Cole focused all of his attention on getting the chainsaw started. He yanked furiously on the starter cord. Occasionally, this would give the saw a little jolt. It was brand new, but it was wet, so it would sputter for a bit then shut down again.
“Come on!” Cole shouted as he yanked the starter cord. “Start, damn you!”
Cole looked up to see a missile shoot out of Felix’s Javelin, up into the school and then ever so gracefully, it locked onto the toilet gator, following the beast as it moved through the water until….KABOOM! There was an all consuming fireball, followed by a twenty foot wall of water that rose up into the air before quickly dissipating.
Felix gave a “thumbs up” sign to Cole. Cole looked around, searching for any signs of gator life.
“Did you get him?” Cole asked.
“Errm,” Felix replied.
One by one, members of the gang poked their heads over the side of the roof. Walter had never stopped filming and caught superb footage of the explosion.
Cole looked at Sharon. “Do you see him?”
Sharon struggled to look through the rain at the flooded street below. “I don’t see anything.”
Rusty threw up his hands and cried, “Woo! Victory baby! Time to go home and crack open some frosty brews!”
Cole grabbed the paddle and moved the canoe a few feet towards where the explosion had occurred moments earlier.
“Something isn’t right,” Cole said.
“You think so?” Sharon shouted out.
“That was just way too…easy.”
“You’re over thinking it, bro!” Rusty hollered. “That sucker’s dead, ya hear? Deader than the night life in Amish country, he’s deader than Elvis!”
“I don’t know,” Cole said.
“Forget about it!” Rusty yelled. “Let’s go kick back and as soon as this storm is over we’ll find his carcass and use it to make some belts, some shoes, maybe some alligator handbags for the ladies.”
“I could go for an alligator handbag,” Maude said.
“No thanks,” Sharon said. “I only do designer.”
Cole sat in the canoe in silence for another minute or so. “Huh,” he said as he picked up the paddle. “Maybe he really is…
Skippy erupted out of the water and grabbed the side of the canoe with his sharp claws. He snapped his jaws up and down in Cole’s direction, wanting nothing more than to get the great hunter between his teeth, down his throat and into his belt.
Cole thought fast and jammed the oar vertically between Skippy’s jaws, preventing the monster from closing its mouth. This slowed Skippy down, though Cole quickly noticed that the oar was beginning to crack and bend under the pressure.
Cole yanked the chainsaw’s starter cord again. Rung-nah-nah-nah-nah…..
“Come on, God!” Cole shouted at the sky. “If you ever cared about me, please! Make this thing start!”
He pulled the cord again. Rung-nah-nah-nah….
SNAP! The oar broke in two. Skippy spit the pieces out and lunged forward. The canoe was starting to go down. Cole could feel water spilling into his shoes, water that was entering the canoe as Skippy pressed down on it with his formidable bulk.
He gave the cord one last try. Rung-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-NUNG-NUNG-NUNG-NUNG-NUNG!
The chainsaw motor was humming now. The chain turned at a rapid pace, and not a second too soon, for Cole barely prevented himself from becoming gator chow by ramming the blade right into Skippy’s mouth. Sparks flew off of Skippy’s teeth as they connected with the blade.
Up top, the gang watched in horror as their beloved hero staved off the creature.
“You got another missile, Felix?” Rusty asked.
“Errm, errm,” Felix said.
“Shit,” Rusty said.