Toilet Gator – Chapter 68


Rusty and Burt sat in the break room of the Sitwell Police Department, playing a rousing game of “Go Fish.”

“Got any threes?” Rusty asked.

Burt sat there, staring silently at his cards with a blank look on his face.

“Burt!” Rusty said.

“Huh?” Burt asked.

“You got any threes?” Rusty asked.

“Oh,” Burt said as he handed over a three card. “Sorry.”

“Something on your mind?” Rusty asked.

“Nah,” Burt said. “Well, maybe.”

“Out with it old man,” Rusty said.

“Old man?” Burt asked. “Screw you, Big Red. You’ll get there one day.”

“But not today,” Rusty said. “What’s up?”

“Aww, it’s just, I don’t know,” Burt said. “Maude.”

“Maude?” Rusty asked.

“Yeah,” Burt said. “Kinda miss her being around. Hell, she worked here long before you and your boyfriend showed up.”

“Cole is not my boyfriend,” Rusty said. “He is just my friend who happens to be a boy.”

“Whatever,” Burt said. “But oh my God, back in the day, Maude was quite a looker.”

Rusty set his cards down on the table. “Maude?”

“Yes,” Burt said. “Had an ass like a little candy apple and a pair of perky bazongas that made you want to take up breastfeeding again.”

Rusty looked disgusted. “Our Maude?”

“Yes,” Burt repeated.

“Old stank breath Maude?” Rusty asked.

“Exactly,” Burt said.

“Grungy old sweatshirt wearing, carries a portable oxygen tank wherever she goes, gray haired Maude?” Rusty asked.

“We all get old, son,” Burt said. “We all have lives before we good old. I wasn’t so bad myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, no one cares about you,” Rusty said. “Tell me about young Maude.”

“What else is there to tell?” Burt asked. “She was the office eye candy. Sweet, kind, a pleasure to be around. Made working here much more pleasant. I admit I had a bit of a crush on her but I always felt bad about that, what with her being a married woman and all. Arthur was actually an old poker buddy of mine, so I kept my mouth shut about it because, you know, he’d of shut my mouth for me if I hadn’t.”

“What the hell are you talking about it now for then?” Rusty asked.

“I don’t know,” Burt said. “I’ve been a damn bachelor all my life.”

“Because you weren’t really that good looking when you were young after all?” Rusty asked.

“No,” Burt said. “I have a rare condition.”

“Oh geez,” Rusty said. “I’m sorry, Burt. I didn’t know.”

“Peyrone’s Disease,” Burt said.

“Peyronie’s Disease,” Rusty said. “Holy shit, Burt. That sounds awful. Is it gonna kill you?”

“No,” Burt said. “Just makes life difficult.”

“Fuck me,” Rusty said as he pushed his chair back from the table. “It’s not contagious, is it?”

“I don’t think so,” Burt said.

“Well?” Rusty said. “What the hell is it?”

Burt cleared his throat. “A curvature of the penis.”

“Come again?” Rusty said.

“My man business,” Burt said. “It curves at a right angle.”

Rusty’s eyes widened. “Are you shitting me?”

“I shit you not,” Burt replied.

“How the hell do you give a woman the business if you’ve got right angled dong?” Rusty asked.

“It’s not impossible,” Burt said. “In theory. I don’t know. I’ve never actually…”

Rusty banged his fist on the table. “Shut up!”

Burt’s face turned red. “Bah, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Do you mean to tell me a man as old as you has never once…”

Burt threw up his hands. “I don’t even remembered how we veered so far off topic. All I’m saying is I miss Maude.”

“Damn straight you do,” Rusty said. “You miss her and you wanna give her that curvy old pecker don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Burt said.

“Does it curve in any other directions?” Rusty asked. “Come on, tell me. It’s like a silly straw down there, isn’t it?”

“Enough,” Burt said.

Rusty pulled out his cell phone. “Let me get a picture. I need to submit this to the World’s Record people.”

“It’s not that uncommon,” Burt said. “They say Bill Clinton had it.”

Rusty appeared taken aback. “Bill Clinton? But he was shtupping broads all the time!”

“Yeah,” Burt said. “But he was the President. If you’re the President, then I assume women don’t mind if you’ve got a curved penis. If you’re a bum like me, well…”

Rusty sighed. “You’re not a bum Burt but shit…we gotta get you laid, Burt.”

Burt shook his head. “Aww, who the hell cares at this point?”

“I do,” Rusty said. “You’re an old man. You could go tomorrow without having experienced one of life’s greatest joys and that’d be a sin as far as I’m concerned.”

“Just keep your mouth shut about this,” Burt said. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Burt,” Rusty said. “And mark my words, as soon as shit dies down with this Toilet Killer business, I’m taking you out to Big Ray-Ray’s House of Fancy Funbags and paying one of those girls to go town on that whirligig you got down there.”

“No thanks,” Burt said. “I’d never do anything illegal.”

Rusty raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Why the hell not?”

Burt shook his head in disgust. “Because we’re cops?”

“Oh,” Rusty said. “Right.”

Rusty collected the cards and played a game of solitaire for awhile while Burt perused a newspaper. Within a few minutes, the ginormous frame of Agent Bishop was towering over the redhead.

“May I help you, Bigfoot?” Rusty asked.

“Move your ass,” Bishop said. “We got work to do.”

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