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May 28 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 64

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“Fetch the stick boy! Fetch the stick!”

Three months later, skippy had grown to the size of a bulldog. He and found Buford had become fast friends, frolicking throughout the trailer park courtyard, playing fetch the stick.

With a retrieved stick between his jaws, Skippy waddled back to the steps leading up to Roxy’s trailer, where Buford was sitting next to his father, who was enjoying an ice cold beer.

“Damn, that thing is growing like a weed,” Beaumont said.

“He sure is,” Buford said. “I’ve been feeding him tacos and soda pop and ice cream and frozen pizzas and rats and I think he might of ate the neighbor’s cat, Daddy. Either that or Fluffy got one look at Skippy, got scared and decided to not come around here no more.”

“Well,” Beaumont said. “Your Momma’s been ragging me about it. Saying he’s been eating all her furniture and biting her…uh…customers.”

“Aww, I’m still training him, Daddy,” Buford said. “But he’s a good alligator. Really, he is.”

“Whatever, boy,” Beaumont said as he swigged his beer. “Just be sure to whack it in the head with a shovel if it ever gets outta control.”

Buford scratched Skippy’s scaly head, causing the creature to emit a joyous, “Raarga, raarga.”

The young man pulled the stick out of Skippy’s mouth and tossed it into the courtyard. “Fetch, boy! Fetch!”

Skippy waddled after the stick once more in hot pursuit, going as fast as his little green legs would carry him.

“Daddy,” Buford said. “Can I come live with you?”

Beaumont crushed his beer can and popped the top of another. “The hell would you wanna do that for? You don’t like your Momma?”

“Oh, I love Momma alright,” Buford replied. “It’s just that, well, she’s always bringing all these fellas over for shirtless wrasslin’ classes.”

“Yeah,” Beaumont said. “I imagine that could be annoying.”

“And I know women are like empowered now and all and I should support her career as a shirtless wrasslin coach, especially ‘cuz without her all those men will never how to wrassle without their shirts on…”

“God damn, boy,” Beaumont said. “You sure do talk a lot.”
“It’s just whenever all those wrasslers come over, Momma makes me go to my room and stay there all night listening to music on my headphones and I don’t even like music all that much,” Buford said.

“Probably to drown out all the noise from all that wrassling going on,” Beaumont said.

“I know,” Buford said. “But I don’t mind wrasslin sounds. I watch wrasslin on the TV all the time. The Rock is my favorite wrassler. He’s gonna be a big superstar one day.”

“Son,” Beaumont said. “If anyone ever hands over a red cent to see that giant lummox in a feature film I will eat a whole heaping helping of crow.”

“Anyway Daddy,” Buford said. “Momma says you got a big ole fancy house and I bet it would be real nice to live there.”

Beaumont blew a raspberry. “Pbbbht. Boy you gotta be kidding me. Sorry son, but your daddy is an important man. I got all kinds of deals and hustles going on. I can’t just drop my business to change your diapers and feed you and do all that woman’s work your Momma should be doing.”

“I’m toilet trained, Daddy,” Buford said. “Like, for years now!”

“Bah,” Beaumont said as he swigged the beer. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Skippy returned and dropped the stick at Buford’s feet. “Raarga.”

“Belly rub time!” Buford shouted.

Skippy rolled over on his back. Buford tickled the beast’s slimy undercarriage all the while saying in a tone that adults usually reserve for their babies, “Who’s a good boy? Who wants a belly rub?”

“Sakes alive, son,” Beaumont said. “I honest to God thought you’d of killed that thing by forgetting to feed it or stepping on it or sitting on it or accidentally dropping it down the garbage disposal or casting upon it one of the fates you bestowed upon your other pets but damn it, maybe you’re starting to grow up and get some wits about you.”

“I love Skippy, Daddy,” Buford said. “I love him to much to forget to take care of him and he’s so big now I could accidentally step on him and he wouldn’t mind.”

Buford swigged some more beer. “Tell you what, boy. If you still don’t like living with your Momma by the time you start high school, then you can come live with me.”

“You mean it?” Buford asked.

“That’s a better guarantee than I’ll ever give any of my customers down at the Slightly Used Car Emporium.”

“Why do I have to wait until high school?” Buford asked. “‘Cuz Momma will be lonely if I don’t stay awhile longer?”

“Nah,” Beaumont said. “I just figure by then I won’t have to clean up after you or do any of that child rearing shit.”

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May 27 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 62

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The year was 1997. Chumbawumba was Tubthumping all over the music charts. The English Patient won best picture despite boring the ever loving shit out of audiences everywhere. Bill Clinton was running around the Oval Office with his pants around his ankles, shtupping everything that moved.

Meanwhile, a perpetually picked on, completely unpopular, chubby little eight year old boy named Buford sat on the floor of his Momma’s trailer playing video games while stuffing potato chips into his face hole.

“Buford,” said a younger, somewhat hotter Roxy. “Quit yanking your joystick stick and go outside. Run around the park a few times and blow the stink off ya.’”

“Can’t, Momma,” Buford said. “I’m about to beat the high score on Karate Fighter 7.”

Roxy blew cigarette smoke all over the room with little concern for the safety of her son’s lungs. “I told your daddy not to get you that machine. You’re going to rot your brain! Go outside and make some friends!”

“But no one likes me, Momma!” Buford said.

“Because you don’t got nothing interesting to say, son,” Roxy said. “Maybe if you’d stop being a little doofus and…”

Ding dong. An excited Buford turned off his game and ran to the door. He opened it only to find…

“Daddy!”

In his pre-mayor days, Beaumont Dufresne was younger and more physically fit, but he still had a cigar in his mouth and a martini in hand. He set a small cardboard box down on the coffee table and picked up his young son.

“Well howdy, boy,” Beaumont said. “Gee whiz, you’re gettin’ bigger than a bull elephant. What’s your Momma feeding you?”

“Chips!” Buford proudly declared as his father put him down.

“Boy, you know I only try to feed you good food,” Roxy said. “You’re the one whose always rootin’ through your Momma’s purse, takin’ all my money to go to that Burp N’Blow store on the corner to buy junk.”

Beaumont took Roxy’s hand and smooched it. “My sweet.”

Roxy took her hand away. “Don’t you ‘my sweet,’ me. Your check was late.”

“Yeah, well, I doubled it, didn’t I?” Beaumont asked.

Beaumont took a seat on the couch next to Roxy as Buford stared at the cardboard box on the table.

“Can I open it, Daddy?” Buford asked.

“Why, sure you can,” Beaumont said.

“Beaumont,” Roxy said. “You’re spoiling the boy. All he does is wreck his brain on that video-ma-jig you got him and now what?”

The boy picked up the box. He could feel something moving around inside. His eyes lit up. “Is it a puppy?”

“Maybe,” Beaumont said. “Maybe something better.”

Buford shook the box. Whatever was inside, it let out a high pitched, “Raarga!”

The boy was beside himself with eagerness and anticipation.

“Go on now,” Beaumont said.

Buford set the box down on the table and lifted the lid. Inside, a teeny, tiny baby alligator scurried around. It was no bigger than an average lizard.

Roxy shrieked. “You have got to be shitting me, Beaumont!”

“What?” Beaumont replied. “You said the boy doesn’t have any friends!”

“And you think that thing is gonna get him any?” Roxy asked.

“Oh my God,” Buford cried as he picked the little beast up. The baby gator fit easily into the palm of the boy’s hand. “I love him so much, Daddy!”

“I’m glad, son,” Beaumont said.

“Where in the hell did you even get that thing?” Roxy asked.

“I stopped at a red light,” Beaumont said. “There was a guy on the corner with a bucket of them, selling them for a dollar a pop. They seemed cute. Figured the boy would like one.”

Roxy puffed on her cigarette. “You ever think about what will happen when that thing grows up? It’ll be too big to live in the trailer!”

Buford playfully wagged a finger near the baby gator’s mouth. The baby gator snapped at it to no avail.

“I don’t know, Roxy,” Beaumont said. “If he becomes too much of a pain in the ass then flush him down the toilet. Do I have to think of everything?”

“Oh sure,” Roxy said. “I gotta be the parent around here. I gotta be the one who’s the bad guy, making all the tough decisions to raise him, putting my career to the side while you’re out there selling cars, raking in money hand over fist.”

“Your career?” Beaumont asked.

“I could be pulling a double shift at Big Ray-Ray’s right now if I didn’t have to watch him,” Roxy said.

Beaumont stood up. “Roxy, I swear, that trip to champagne room with you was the worst mistake I made in 1989, even worse than when I went to see Turner and Hooch because some idiot told me it was a good movie. It wasn’t. It was two goddamn hours of Tom Hanks and a dog that was smarter than he was.”

“You don’t mean that,” Roxy said.

“About Turner and Hooch?” Beaumont said. “I surely do. Tom Hanks is a hack and his film career is destined to fizzle out any day now.”

“I meant the champagne room,” Roxy said. “You know it was nice and…”

Roxy patted Beaumont’s knee. “…it’s not too late for us to be a family.”

Beaumont headed for the door. “You know I’m a free bird, baby! Stop tryin’ to clip my wings!”

As the door slammed, Roxy turned her attention to Buford. The boy was gently stroking the baby gator’s tiny head with his finger.

“Buford,” Roxy said. “I don’t think you ought to get too attached to that little critter.”

“I love him, Momma,” Buford said as he kissed the baby gator. “Every day I’m going to love him and hug him and kiss him and feed him bugs and snakes and rats and whatever else baby gators eat and I’m gonna call him Skippy.”

Roxy sat back on the couch. “Aw shit.”

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May 27 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 61

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Buford was back in his hotel room, snacking on chips and playing video games. He paused the action to call his father.

“Daddy?” Buford asked.

“Whaddya want, boy?” the Mayor asked. “I’m about to do another commercial and I’ve already spent enough time bailing out your sorry ass. If you’d been any kind of a real man you would have been able to have handled those cops on your own.”

“I know, Daddy,” Buford said. “I’m sorry.”

“The hell were you doing out at your Momma’s trailer at that ungodly hour anyway?” the Mayor asked. “Trying to move in with her instead of becoming a damn adult like I told you?”

Buford figured in this instance, a lie was better than the truth. “Yeah, Daddy. That’s it.”

“Yeah, well,” the Mayor said. “I know Roxy was your Momma and hell, out of all Big Ray-Ray’s strippers, I always found her to be the most fun so I know this is a painful time for the both of us. But don’t go thinking that means I’m gonna let you back into the house so you can postpone adulthood. You need to stop being a man child, Buford.”

“I know,” Buford said. “I just called to tell you I love you, Daddy.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Well, that’s sorta gay son but alright. I suppose if there ever was a time where that should be said, it’s now. I love you too, boy.”

“Thanks Daddy,” Buford said.

“Not in a gay way, mind you but in a father-son way, mind you,” the Mayor said.

“I figured,” Buford said.

“Alright, son,” the Mayor said. “I don’t have time for any more of this touchy-feely bullshit. I got work to do.”

“OK,” Buford said. “Bye Daddy.”

Buford hanged up his phone. He laid down in bed and closed his eyes, his mind drifting off into thoughts of Skippy, the pet he’d once considered to be his one and only true blue friend, though now he was having doubts.

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May 27 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 60

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Cole listened to Country Western music while he drove down the highway. Sharon played mindlessly with her phone. This carried on for a half-hour until Sharon attempted to start a conversation.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Sharon said.

“It’s been five years,” Cole said.

“Yeah,” Sharon replied. “But still…”

“People die,” Cole said.

“I wanted to come to the funeral but,” Cole said.

“I know,” Cole said.

There was a brief pause before Sharon finally blurted it out. “Do you hate me?”

Cole’s sigh was long and loud, like air escaping from a hot air balloon. “Let’s not do this.”

“Do what?” Sharon asked.

“Scratch the scab,” Cole said. “Neither of us will like the puss that oozes out, so just leave it alone.”

“We never really talked about it,” Sharon said.

“Not for lack of trying on my part,” Cole said.

“I know,” Sharon said. “That was my fault, but now I…”

“Look,” Cole said. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in four decades it’s that everyone thinks they are right and everyone else is wrong. I think you were wrong, you think I’m wrong, let’s just skip the part where we argue about who was right and who was wrong and just think whatever the hell we want because that’s what we’ll end up doing anyway.”

“Wow,” Sharon said. “I guess you really do hate me.”

Up ahead, there was a Tasty Burger rest stop. Cole slowed down and pulled into it.

“What are you doing?” Sharon asked as Cole pulled into a parking spot.

Cole turned off the ignition. “You want to have this out? Fine. Let’s have this out.”

Sharon was quiet. She began to regret her prodding.

“You were my wife,” Cole said. “We both stood up before a minister and promised to love and cherish each other, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health and so on.”

Sharon looked away from Cole and out the passenger’s window. “I know.”

“I held up my end,” Cole said. “I took every last cent out of my paycheck to put you through law school because I loved you and I wanted you to be happy. Out of the two of us, you were the brains, so it seemed like a good investment in what was supposed to be the beginning of a happy life together.”

“I know,” Sharon said.

“And then you left me,” Cole said. “Out of the blue. No warning. No nothing. On the worst day of my life. I was in the hospital, dying. They took my leg. And your first thought wasn’t to come see me but to get the hell out of town because of…what? You were worried you’d have to take care of me?”

Sharon turned to face Cole. “That wasn’t…”

“I’ve got news for you,” Cole said. “I get along just fine without help from anyone.”

“I know,” Sharon said.

“I get along fine without you,” Cole said.

Sharon broke into tears. “I know.”

Cole felt saddened by the sight of his ex crying. “See? This is why I didn’t want to do this. It’s pointless.”

The pair sat there for awhile before Cole started up again. “Look, I don’t see any point in me shitting on you after all these years, so that’s why I think it’s stupid to rehash all of this. I don’t want to cause you any pain but if you’re expecting me to, what? Tell you that you did right by me? That what you did was great? That I was somehow the bad guy and you were the good one? That I forgive you? No. Not happening.”

Sharon wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffed. She opened the door. “You’re right. This is pointless and stupid.”

Cole watched as his ex stepped out of the car and slammed the door. He rolled his eyes as he rolled down his window.

“Sharon!” Cole shouted. “Come on!”

Sharon waved Cole off as she walked toward the Tasty Burger.

“Let me drive you the rest of the way,” Cole said.
Sharon turned and held up her phone. “I’ve got the Mobo Cab app. I’m fine. Take care of yourself, Cole.”

Cole bonked his head against the steering wheel and closed his eyes, realizing he may have just botched his one and only chance to get back together with his lady love.

“Fucking Mobo Cab app,” Cole muttered.

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May 23 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 58

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Walt jumped behind the wheel of the news van and Natalie was about to hop into the passenger’s seat when she was accosted by a weirdo in a lab coat.

“Pardon me, Madame,” Professor Lambert said. “Do you know where I might find the Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties who reports for Network News One?”

Natalie sighed. “You’re looking at her.”

Professor Lambert blinked. “But…your…and your…”

“Don’t ask,” Natalie said. “I’m who you want to speak to.”

“Very well,” Professor Lambert said. “Madame, my name is Professor Elliot Lambert, an esteemed educator of Animal Biology at Sitwell Community College.”

“Esteemed?” Natalie asked. “I practically got a contact high just from the air at that place.”

“Yes, well,” Professor Lambert said. “College students will be college students, I suppose.”

Natalie scrunched up her nose. “Actually, I’m getting a contact high off of you.”

“Hmm?” Professor Lambert said. “Oh, yes…umm…I’ve been experimenting in my laboratory. Yes, that’s it. Anyway, I have a theory about the toilet murders but the police refused to listen to what I have to say. I thought about letting the matter drop but the public’s safety is too important to leave to chance and therefore, I’m left with no other choice than to alert the media, although I do not relish making the local constabulary look like fools in the process, but so be it.”

“You’re one of those people who likes to hear himself speak, aren’t you?” Natalie asked.

“I’m tempted to say, ‘Takes one to know one,’” Professor Lambert said.

“Touche,” Natalie said. “What’s your theory?”

“A toilet gator,” Professor Lambert said.

Natalie waited for the punchline, but hearing none, asked, “What?”

“A toilet gator,” Professor Lambert said. “An alligator of immense size, which I deduce has infiltrated the sewer system and thanks to an above average intellect, has been able to figure out how to track its victims, locate them and burst up and out through their toilets, grind them into oblivion between its powerful jaws, and then retreat to the safety of the sewer system, leaving the authorities none the wiser.”

Natalie laughed. “You’re putting me on.”

Professor Lambert maintained a straight face.

“You’re serious?” Natalie asked.

“Indeed,” Professor Lambert said.

“What do you base this theory on?” Natalie asked.

“Many years of research,” Professor Lambert said. The professor popped open his suitcase, pulled out the giant stack of papers that comprised a copy of his article, and handed it to Natalie.

Natalie looked the first page of the article over and read the title out loud. “A Concise History of One Scientist’s Investigation Into the Bizarre Phenomenon of Toilet Emerging Animals?”

“I’m the scientist in question, naturally,” Professor Lambert said.

“Naturally,” Natalie said.

“I have studied many toilet animals,” Professor Lambert said. “Toilet Gators have been the most frequent offenders but I dare say, if this is, indeed the work of a toilet gator then he is by far the most intelligent and cunning toilet gator ever.”

Natalie held up the paper. “Has this been published?”

“Self-published, yes,” Professor Lambert said.

Natalie rolled her eyes and shoved the paper back into Professor Lambert’s hands. “No thank you.”

“Madame,” Professor Lambert said. “I’ll have you know that this paper received a three star rating on Slap-it-on, the best site for slapping up self-published works.”

Natalie hopped into the van and looked down on the professor. “Self-publishing is an insult to the written word. I’m sorry, but if the traditional publishing industry gatekeepers did not find your work to be valid, then it deserves to be run through a shredder and turned into confetti.”

“Madame,” Professor Lambert said. “Please, this is very important.”

Walt looked on from the driver’s side but kept quiet.

“What do you want?” Natalie asked. “You want me to put you on air with this crap?”

“It’s not crap,” Professor Lambert said. “I assure you.”

Natalie sighed. She looked to Walter. “Toilet Gator?”

Walter shrugged his shoulders. “Stranger things have happened.”

Natalie lost herself in thought, then turned her attention back to the professor. “Look, he seem like a decent enough person and God knows NN1 will gladly put any crackpot with a harebrained conspiracy theory on air in the name of ratings.”

“I am not a crackpot,” Professor Lambert said. “And there is nothing harebrained about this.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Natalie said. “If I put you on air, you’ll be torn apart. Laughed it. Made fun of. You’ll become the butt of every late night talk show host’s jokes and the Internet’s non-stop meme production machine.”

“If that’s what it takes to get the truth out, then so be it,” Professor Lambert said.

“Yeah,” Natalie said. “But you’ll lose your job. SCC’s a shitty school but I doubt even they’ll want to keep a professor running around, talking about toilet gators.”

“That does not matter,” Professor Lambert said. “The truth is the only thing that matters. I could care less about myself.”

“But I do care about you, sir,” Natalie said. “And I’m not going to let you make an ass of yourself just so I can score points with the network by turning you into America’s next big joke.”

Professor Lambert tucked the copy of his article into his briefcase and closed the snaps. “I can’t believe this. No one will listen to reason.”

Natalie closed the van door and looked at the Professor through the open window. “Listen, you seem like a very smart man. Just lay off the pot and your mind will stop coming up with crazy ideas.”

Professor Lambert sniffed the collar of his lab coat. “Is the aroma that pungent?”

“And how,” Natalie said. “Have a nice day sir.”

Walter pulled out of the Sitwell Police Station parking lot and headed down the road. Natalie smirked.

“What?” Walter asked.

“Toilet gator,” Natalie said. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

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May 23 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 57

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Natalie sat in the back of the news van and pulled off her blonde wig. She then lowered her head into her hands and cried.

Walter wasn’t one for emotion. He bit into a snack cake, then patted his colleague on the back. “Um…there, there?”

The attempt at consolation was of no use. Natalie continued to sob.

“Something wrong?” Walter asked.

“Yes!” Natalie shouted as she pulled the melons from her bra and tossed them on the floor. “These ridiculous things! That ridiculous news station! The way I’m expected to tart myself up like an Amsterdam hooker! The way….the way…”

“That dips hit Kurt Manley spoke to you on air?” Walter asked.

“Exactly!” Natalie said. She launched into her best impression of Kurt Manley’s deep, booming anchorman voice. “Don’t interrupt a man while he’s speaking, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Walter said. “That was rough.

“And I apologized to him!” Natalie said. “I actually apologized to him!”

Walter pulled another snack cake out of the box and unwrapped it. “You didn’t really have a choice.”

“I could have told him off,” Natalie said.

“And then you’d be out of a job,” Walter said. “Nope, you did the right thing. If there’s two things I’ve learned in this business over the years, it’s knowing when to pick your battles, and accepting that you’re going to have to eat a lot of shit with a smile on your face.”

“I don’t know if I can eat anymore,” Natalie said.

“You’re just getting started,” Walter said. “You’ll get used to it. Find a productive way to deal with the stress.”

Natalie rubbed the tears out of her eyes. “How do you deal with it?”

Walter held up his half-devoured snack cake, then slapped his big gut.

“Oh,” Natalie said.

“Not a solution I’d recommend,” Walter said. “Seemed like a good idea when I was young but before I knew it, I had more weight than I could ever possibly get rid of.”

“I’m sorry, Walter,” Natalie said. “Were all the other reporters you worked with that terrible to you?”

“And then some,” Walter said. The big guy pulled a third snack cake out of the box, looked at it, changed his mind, then threw it back in the box. He displayed some rare willpower for thirty seconds until he gave in, retrieved the snack cake, unwrapped it, and chomped on it.

“Screw it,” Walt said. “I’ll just get my stomach stapled with all the dough we’re going to make off our book.”

“If there ever is a book,” Natalie said. “I might go to jail for ripping out Kurt Manley’s hair plugs and feeding them to him.”

Walter smiled. It was the first time Natalie had ever seen him do so. “Now that I’d pay to see.”

Natalie’s personal cell phone rang. She looked at the screen. “KURT MANLEY.”

“Damn it,” Natalie said. She answered the phone and said ever so sweetly, “Hello Kurt.”

“Natalie, my dear,” Kurt said.

Natalie’s face scrunched up in disgust as she silently mouthed the words to Walter, “My dear?”

Walter shook his head.

“You are doing a cracker jack job with this Toilet Killer story,” Kurt said. “And…ungh…oh…oh yeah…and I can tell you the bigwigs upstairs were especially impressed with the way you handled those text messages. They say a reporter should never become part of the story but boy howdy, is it ever good for ratings. NN1’s numbers are through the roof and going up, up, up until they land on Mars and…unghh…holy shit yes…ungh….”

“Thanks Kurt,” Natalie said. “Glad to hear everyone is pleased.”

“I’d…ergh…love to hear your thoughts on this story going forward.”

“Going forward?” Natalie asked.

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “Yeah, yeah, yeah….ohhh…oh God, yeah!”

Natalie looked to Walter and performed the internationally recognized, “He’s crazy” sign by twirling her finger around the side of her head in a circle three times.

“Kurt, are you alright?” Natalie asked.

“Fine,” Kurt said. “Ungh…fuck! Oh, pardon me. Yeah, I’m just enjoying a little down time in my office while that debate show is on, you know the one, where the idiots scream at each other and no one knows what anyone is saying.”
“Idiots Scream at Each Other and No One Knows What Anyone is Saying?” Natalie asked.

“That’s the one,” Kurt said. “Great show. Ungh…oh baby…yes…so this story. What else have you got in mind? Talk to me. Talk to me in detail…long and slow…don’t leave anything out.”

“Well,” Natalie said. “I assume I’ll just continue to interview people who have been impacted by the Toilet Killer’s rampage. The victims’ friends and families. People they knew well. Random citizens who are scared they’ll be the next victim. I actually contacted the CEO of a toilet manufacturing company who says his sales have plummeted. He’s willing to talk about it on the air.”

“Yes,” Kurt said. “Yes, yes, YES! GOD YES!”

“And of course there’s the whole fallout of Chief Walker and Agent Walker being thrown off of the investigation,” Natalie said. “I’ll be asking around to find out what people think of that.”

“Uh huh,” Kurt said. “Ungh…go on. Don’t stop…don’t stop!”

“I don’t know,” Natalie said. “That’s all I’ve got for now.”

“Don’t stop!” Kurt shouted.

“What?” Natalie asked.

“Just say anything!” Kurt said. “I love the sound of your sexy voice!”

Natalie’s face scrunched up again. “Kurt, what’s going on?”

There was a brief moment of silence before Kurt cried out in ecstasy. “Oh! Oh God! Oh yes that was great!”

Natalie was not amused. “What the?”

“Holy shit,” Kurt said. “I need to get that Mexican lady to clean my desk. Looks like someone dumped a gallon of cottage cheese on it.”

The proverbial ignition switch in Natalie’s mind turned. “Kurt…were you…masterbating?”

“Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, sugar tits,” Kurt said. “I have been behind that desk non-stop for nearly two days now thanks to this Toilet Killer son of a bitch and let me tell you, I was backed up like a turn pike during rush hour. Thanks, doll.”

“Kurt,” Natalie said. “That’s…that’s…I don’t even know what to say.”

“Don’t thank me, babe,” Kurt said. “I know, I know. You’re flattered that such a big, important man like yours truly would develop a sexual interest in a little nothing like you. I’m sure that’s got to be messing with your mind, but just be proud of yourself for attracting a big dog like me.”

“That’s not what I was going to say at all,” Natalie said.

Walt scribbled a note on a piece of scrap paper and held it up in front of Natalie’s face. “Put him on speaker.”

Natalie appeared confused, but abided. She put Kurt on speaker. His voice filled the back of the van.

“Yeah, well,” Kurt said. “Most of you bimbos don’t have any idea what to say anyway. Such pretty little things with such empty little heads.”

Walt pulled out his cell phone.

“Um,” Natalie said. “OK, whatever. Is that all?”

“Nope,” Kurt said. “Hey, is it me or is there something wrong with this connection?”

“Something wrong?” Natalie asked.

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “Sounds like we’re on speaker.”

“Speaker?” Natalie said. “Don’t be silly…no….I think it’s just a bad connection.

Walter pulled up the recorder app on his phone and began recording the conversation.

“Ahh,” Kurt said. “Well, anyway, look sweetheart, you are my new toy and I cannot wait to unwrap you and break you in.”

Walter held up his phone to show Natalie what he was doing.

“What’s that now?” Natalie asked. “Break me in?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “Oh I’m sure no one told you but it’s sort of an unwritten rule that each and every one of our Hot Ass Blonde Chick Reporters with Big Titties has to take at least one ride on the wet and wild Kurt slide.”

“Come again?” Natalie asked.

“Oh I will,” Kurt said. “Don’t you worry. Again and again. Maybe you will too, although to be honest, my orgasms will be more of a priority than yours. I can’t go on TV unless Little Kurty has been drained of all his buttermilk.”

“Little Kurty?” Natalie asked.

“My penis,” Kurt said. “My big ole famous news penis, the one attached to America’s Favorite Anchorman. He needs to say hello to your kitty cat.”

“Wow,” Natalie said. “Kurt, listen, I don’t know if you’ve been drinking or something but this is highly unprofessional.”

“Oh it’s not professional at all,” Kurt said. “And I’m completely sober. This is just the way things work here at Network News One. All the big shots in charge of the network know I do this and they’re cool with it. They want me to be happy and for me to be happy, I need to see whats underneath your skirt.”

“Kurt,” Natalie said. “I really don’t want to continue this conversation.”

Walt scribbled down a note and held it up. “Keep it going.”

Natalie looked puzzled but nodded in the affirmative.

“Listen,” Kurt said. “Once this whole Toilet Killer story wraps up, you’re going to be on the first plane to New York. We’ll get together, go to a fancy restaurant. I’ll have a steak, medium-rare. You’ll have a salad that you’ll just play with but won’t eat because God knows NN1 can’t be allowing any porkers on the air and we don’t want you getting chubby.”

“This is…wow…just…wow…”

“Then you’ll come up to my penthouse,” Kurt said. “We’ll have a nightcap, maybe dance a little and then you’ll…lick my taint.”

Natalie was unable to contain herself. “OH MY GOD!”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Kurt said. “But it’s a fetish I’ve had for the longest time. I just love it when my subordinates, whose future careers and livelihoods I hold in the palm of my hand, put their tongues all over that little strip of land between my sticker and my stinker.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Natalie said.

“Well,” Kurt said. “If you want to miss out, be my guest. I’ve been told my taint is quite lovely. FYI, I’m going to need you to tell me my taint is lovely. Really helps build up my ego.”

Walt scribbled down one more note and held it up. “And if I refuse?”

Natalie nodded and spoke into her phone. “And if I refuse?”

Kurt laughed. “Oh, your career will be deader than disco, baby. Dead and buried and gone. You either lick my taint or you’ll never work at Network News One again.”

“I see,” Natalie said.

“And not just NN1,” Kurt said. “I’ll put the word out all over. You’ll be blacklisted. You’ll never work in broadcast journalism again. Hell, you’ll never work anywhere again, period.”
Walt gave Natalie a big thumbs up.

“OK, Kurt,” Natalie said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’ll get back to you.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Kurt said. “I’ve got a line of aspiring news babes lined up for a mile who would gladly fight you for the chance to lick my taint in exchange for a little air time.”

“Ugh,” Natalie said. “Goodbye Kurt.”

“Adios, sexy mamacita,” Kurt replied.

Walter stopped the recording on his phone.

Natalie hanged up her phone and turned to Walter. “You knew he was a pervert!”

“Everyone knows he’s a pervert,” Walter said. “I mean, there have been rumors for years but no one’s ever actually confirmed it…until now.”

“Until now? Natalie asked.

Walter held up his phone. “Congratulations. You own a news network.”

Suddenly, Natalie grinned as every doubt and fear she’d ever had about her career as a broadcast journalist flushed out of her body. “Walter, you genius.”

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May 23 2017
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top ten lists

Top Ten Reasons Why You Should Visit BookshelfBattle.com

Ahh, bookshelfbattle.com – it’s my virtual space, my online hangout, my digital stomping grounds.

If you’re reading this, you’ve already visited.  Congratulations.  You’ve shown excellent judgment and are no doubt a person of great wisdom and fantastic, upstanding moral character.

If you’re not reading this then…well, that’s messed up because if you’re not reading this then how could you be reading this?  #MindBlown

From BQB HQ in East Randomtown, USA, where all the BQB blog magic happens, its the Top Ten Reasons Why You Should Visit BookshelfBattle.com

#10 – You’re already here, so if you leave, it’s kind of rude.

Stick around awhile.  Take off your coat.  Have a drink.  Eat a cookie.  Click on a hundred links on this blog while you’re at it.

#9 – It Will Keep You Off Crack

Do I have any medical or scientific studies to prove the claim that visiting this fine website prevents people from taking crack?  No.

Are you taking crack while you’re reading this?  (Consults my Magic 8 ball.)  “All signs point to ‘No.'”

Therefore, whenever you read this website and don’t take crack while you are reading it…you’re welcome.

#8 – You Can Laugh

Or, learn what doesn’t make people laugh.  I mean, I think it’s all funny but I admit, I could just be stuck in my own personal bubble, oblivious to the opinions, thoughts and feelings of others.

It’s a good way to be, come to think of it.  Who has time to deal with the opinions, thoughts and feelings of others, especially when mine are the best and really, all that matters?

#7 – You Might Learn Something

Occasionally, this blog gets quasi-educational.  You might learn something but note the key word – “might.”

#6 – You’ll Be One of the First Few Humans to Make Contact with an Outer Space Alien

Alien Jones his no joke.  He’s from space.  Want to make all those losers who made fun of you in high school jealous?  Being one of the first few people to comment on an alien’s column is a good way to start.

#5 – Fart jokes.

So many fart jokes.

#4 – Nerds Welcome

No one can give you a wet willy, a wedgie, or a purple nurple here…because, you know, it’s a blog in an intangible written form.

#3 – BQB Will Think You’re Awesome

I really will.

#2 – You’ll Help BQB Save the World from the Mighty Potentate

The more clicks I get, the more likely the Potent One will get off of Earth’s back.

#1 – You Can Be One of BQB’s 3.5 Readers!

Truly, the most exclusive club out there.  Do you know of any other clubs with only 3.5 participants?

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May 21 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Network News One Transcript #5

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Network News One Transcript #5

KURT MANLEY: Witnesses on the scene said the manatees ate every last one of the environmentalist protesters, causing the workers on the oil rig to laugh and laugh and laugh some more. Talk about cruel irony.

(Kurt looks at a different camera.)

KURT MANLEY: Good morning, USA. If you’re just joining us, I’m Kurt Manley, America’s Favorite News Anchor. You’re watching Network News One, the only channel with the hottest blonde chick reporters with the biggest titties. Oh yeah, and occasionally we report the news and shit.

(A graphic pops up to Kurt’s right. It depicts a toilet with a big giant X stamped on it.)

KURT MANLEY: And now for our top story. “America’s Shitting Nightmare.” The toilet killer has struck again, this time taking the life of Adelaide Hotchkiss, an elderly stripper better known to the patrons of the Sitwell, Florida erotic entertainment nightclub Big Ray-Ray’s House of Fancy Funbags by her stage name, “Roxy.”

(An obese man with a long beard, sunglasses, and a stained shirt appears on screen, speaking into a microphone.)

BIG RAY-RAY: Aw, hell yeah it’s sadder than a monkey fucking a football in this joint ever since we learned about Old Roxy. She wasn’t my prettiest stripper, or even my best one but dammit, that gal has never missed a day of work since 1987. From the Reagan Era all through the 1990s and 2000s, if there’s been one constant around here, it’s been Roxy’s big, gelatin filled ass working its way all over the sweatpants clad crotches of all of my discerning gentlemen customers. That’s why, in Roxy’s honor, all lap dances will be fifty percent off for the rest of the day and I’m gonna knock a dollar off the cost of the all you can eat hot wing bar. It’s the least I can do.

(KURT MANLEY, back in studio)

KURT MANLEY: Four grizzly murders in two days. All of the victims evacuating their bowels on the toilet when they met their doom. This has caused widespread panic in Florida, where residents have become so scared of sitting on the crapper that they’ve been coming up with new methods of eliminating their bodily waste. Here’s a Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties with more on this story.

(NATALIE BROCK appears on camera, standing in front of the Sitwell Police Station. She is wearing her blonde wig and her bra is stuffed with ripe melons.)

NATALIE BROCK: That’s right, Kurt. The latest development in the Toilet Killer’s non-stop murder spree is that Floridians are scared too shit! I conducted a series of man on the street interviews to find out why people are so terrified of the toilet. Check out these results.

(NATALIE’S man on the street interviews begin. First, an average looking guy in a polo T-shirt.)

RANDOM MAN: I have had to go for nearly thirty-five hours now, but I’ve been holding it.

NATALIE BROCK: Why?

RANDOM MAN: I do not want to end up like Countess Cucamonga or any of those other people. If I don’t shit then the Toilet Killer can’t get me.

NATALIE BROCK: Thirty-five hours. That’s some amazing sphincter control right there.

RANDOM MAN: Yes, I’m very proud of myself.

NATALIE BROCK: Still, that’s a long time. Aren’t you worried that you’ll eventually lose control and…

RANDOM MAN: No, ma’am. I’m in peak physical condition. I can hold it for as long as I need to and….ERGH…

(The man’s face turns red. NATALIE waves the air away from her nose.)

RANDOM MAN: Nevermind.

NATALIE BROCK VOICEOVER: Yes, while some citizens have tried holding it, others have turned to less traditional methods of shit disposal.

(NATALIE confronts a man wearing a T-shirt from his favorite rock band. He’s standing next to a pile of cardboard boxes and holding one of them up in the air.)

BOX SALESMAN: Get your shit boxes! Get your shit boxes! Fifty bucks for a shit box!

(An old man performs an impromptu “I need to shit dance” as he walks up to the salesman and forks over some cash).

OLD MAN: Give me one of those!

BOX SALESMAN: Pleasure doing business with you, sir.

NATALIE BROCK: Sir, are you profiteering off of a tragedy?

BOX SALESMAN: Are you kidding me? I’m performing a service here, lady. People need to shit. Toilets aren’t safe. A cardboard box is the next thing.

NATALIE BROCK: But fifty dollars for a cardboard box is outrageous.

BOX SALESMAN: I went to a lot of trouble to get these boxes. I had to run around town swiping them from liquor stores and grocery stores all day. Look, people need to shit and I’m giving them a safe alternative.

NATALIE’S VOICEOVER: While concerned citizens are turning to non-traditional shit holding containers, some are just going au natural.

(A young couple walk through a park, holding hands. They cop a squat next to a tree, drop their pants, and let it rip. Black bars appear over their private areas.)

NATALIE’S VOICEOVER: Some are even predicting the end of days.

(A homeless man wearing a trash bag as a shirt walks up and down a street, ringing a bell. Over his trash bag shirt, he wears a sandwich board sign that reads, ‘Repent All Ye Shitters!’”

HOMELESS MAN: The end of the world draws nigh! Shit and be damned!

NATALIE BROCK: Sir, do you really think the Toilet Killer is worth all this fuss?

HOMELESS MAN: Yes! The Toilet Killer is one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse! First, it’s the Toilet Killer, killing you while you shit! Next it will come the Urinal Killer, who will chop off your dick with a butcher knife while you take you a piss!

NATALIE BROCK: That’s a rather grim prognostication.

HOMELESS MAN: Indeed! Next comes the Bidet Killer. He’ll shoot you in the ass while you’re just trying to clean your rear-end and finally, the Bath Tub killer will destroy all who try to tidy up. I haven’t taken a bath since the first George Bush was president and everyone laughed at me but who’s laughing now, huh? Who’s laughing now?! Muah ha ha!

NATALIE BROCK’S VOICEOVER: A handful of residents continue to brave the porcelain throne, but not without taking extreme cautionary measures.

(NATALIE is lead to the bathroom of Freedom Firepower by MOSES. There, she finds Felix on the can holding a twelve-gauge shotgun. His privates are covered by a black bar.)

MOSES: Ma’am, this here is America, land of the free and home of the brave. In 1776, George Washington swam across the Atlantic, cock punched King George and said, “Listen you limey fuck stick, America is ours now, so cut all the bullshit if you don’t want another cockpunch.” George Washington then swam back to America where he then proceeded to round house kick every last red coat in the face until they all begged for mercy.

NATALIE BROCK: I’m not sure you have the best grasp on history, sir.

MOSES: And you sound like a raging liberal cook burger who wants to perform cunnilingus on Hillary Clinton, ma’am.

NATALIE BROCK: Let’s move on.

MOSES: Yes. Anyway, all I’m saying is this is America. King George couldn’t keep it and we’ve defended it from all sorts of enemies over the years, ranging from the Nazis to the damn terrorists and now we’ve got a Toilet Killer out there, running amuck. People, you can’t stop shitting on your toilets because if you stop shitting on toilets then the Toilet Killer wins.

NATALIE BROCK: But what about people who are afraid of becoming the Toilet Killer’s next victim?

MOSES: Simple, ma’am. Come on down to Freedom Firepower and for the low, low price of a thousand dollars, you can take a shit in my customer bathroom, which I have turned into the most secure shit parlor in the land.

NATALIE BROCK: What security measures have you taken?

MOSES: Well, as you can see, my hetero life partner Felix is packing a twelve-gauge. That’s fully loaded and can blow a hole the size of a trash can lid through an assailant at ten paces. We’ll give you one of those to hold onto while you’re taking a dump because when it comes to safety, the first line of defense comes from the shitter him or herself. Yes, I said “herself” because we’re not going to discriminate against you if you’re a woman. The lady folk need protection while they shit too.

NATALIE BROCK: Any other precautions?

MOSES: Yes.

(MOSES points out five different cameras lining the walls, all pointed at the toilet)

MOSES: Five, count ‘em five HD security cameras will capture all the action, so if the Toilet Killer dares show his ugly face in here, we will get a positive ID on the perpetrator.

NATALIE BROCK: Will that footage be erased after your customers use the bathroom?

MOSES: I can’t comment on that but it will not be uploaded on a website called “HD Bathroom Footage” where subscriptions will be sold for $29.99 a month, that I can assure you.

NATALIE BROCK: Anything else?

(MOSES holds up a high-powered assault rifle)

MOSES: Yes, I of course, will be standing watch over you while you move your bowels and any and all intruders who dare to enter into my line of sight will be cut down posthaste. No one is going to kill any shitters on my watch.

NATALIE BROCK: Is that all?

(MOSES flips a switch. A grid of red lasers fills the bathroom.)

MOSES: These lasers are connected to C4 rigged explosive devices that I have packed into the walls, so whatever you do, don’t make any sudden moves.

NATALIE BROCK: But won’t that also kill the person on the toilet?

MOSES: It’s called “mutually assured self destruction,” ma’am. Simply put, if the Toilet Killer tries to kill one of my shitting customers, he will have to kill himself in the process. I’m willing to be good money that the Toilet Killer is such a coward that he would never dare put himself in danger and therefore all my customers will be safe while they shit.

NATALIE: Mutually assured self-destruction, you say?

MOSES: Yes. It’s the same reason why America and Russia have all those nukes. Every country needs to stock up on nukes to keep all the other countries with nukes from nuking them. If everyone has a nuke, then everyone will be afraid to drop a nuke. The more nukes in the world, the safer the world is. That’s just science.

NATALIE: Well, I suppose you can’t argue with science.

NATALIE VOICEOVER: I caught up with Mayor Dufresne to obtain his views on the matter.

(Mayor Dufresne appears in his car lot, holding up a bag of adult diapers next to a porta-potty.)

THE MAYOR: Howdy, y’all! This Toilet Killer really is an insufferable Son of a Bitch, ain’t he? Well, I’ll tell you what, Mayor Beaumont Dufresne isn’t about to allow his constituency to suffer. No siree, Bob! Y’all mosey on over to Mayor Beaumont Dufresne’s Slightly Used Car Emporium and for a hundred dollars, you can take a shit in one of the many ports-potties I have had trucked onto my lot. The Toilet Killer hasn’t struck a porta-potty yet, so I have no doubt y’all will be safe in one of my outhouses.

NATALIE BROCK: Mayor, that’s nice, but what about…

THE MAYOR: The shitter on the go? No problem. I have bought up every last adult diaper in Grover County, so come on down and I will outfit you with some man-sized disposable underpants for the low price of seventy-five dollars a pair.

NATALIE BROCK: Actually, I wanted to get your thoughts on the investigation.

THE MAYOR: Oh, it’s a shambles, my dear. An absolute shambles. Four people have been killed on the John in less than two days, two of those people right here in Sitwell and do you know what that incompetent boob Chief Walker did?

NATALIE BROCK: What?

THE MAYOR: He went in hauled in my boy Buford for questioning. The boy’s simple and slower than a pile of molasses running down hill in January and anyone could take one look at him and realize the kid can barely zip up his own fly let alone plot and carry out a series of toilet murders with cunning precision. Yet, that idiot Walker wasted the taxpayers’ time and money harassing my boy when he could have been out there looking for the real killer.

NATALIE BROCK: So I take it you think the investigation is not going well?

THE MAYOR: Not at all. That’s why this morning I called upon the town counsel and drew up the papers necessary to have all of Sitwell’s police functions transferred over into the very competent hands of Sheriff Hammond.

(The Mayor knocks on a porta-potty door)

THE MAYOR: Sheriff, can you come out and have a word with the press?

SHERIFF HAMMOND: Ungh…one second.

(The Sheriff steps out of the porta-potty and buckles up his belt.)

SHERIFF HAMMOND: Yes, good people of Sitwell, have no fear, for Chief Walker’s reign of terror as the town’s worst ever officer of the law is over. I’m proud to announce that all Sitwell police officers will from here on become Grover County Sheriff’s Deputies.

NATALIE BROCK: Will there be any cutbacks?

(The SHERIFF pulls out a piece of paper and puts on a pair of reading glasses.)

SHERIFF HAMMOND: Yes, ma’am. I hold in my hand here a list of the Sitwell Police Department officers who did not make the final cut. Ahem. ‘Chief Cole Walker.’ That is all.

(THE MAYOR and THE SHERIFF laugh in a maniacal manor.)

NATALIE BROCK: Mr. Mayor, will removing Chief Walker from office really have any impact on this investigation? After all, Sharon Walker is the FBI agent in charge.

THE MAYOR: Yes, and it’s a crying shame she is, because frankly darling, and I don’t mean any offense, but I really don’t think that anyone with a vagina is up to the challenge of bringing in the Toilet Killer. What we need is a man with a big ole’ swingin’ dick to catch this vile fiend. That’s why I am, as of now, calling on President Stugotz to intervene and take Agent Walker off of this investigation. Anyone who married a man with a penis as small as the one that ex-Chief Walker is packing has exercised poor judgment, in my humble opinion, and can no longer be trusted with such a sensitive investigation. People’s lives are at stake.

NATALIE BROCK: That’s a very serious claim.

THE MAYOR: These are very serious times, my dear. Very serious times indeed.

(NATALIE reappears live in front of the Sitwell Police Station.)

NATALIE BROCK: Kurt, ex-Chief Walker refused to return any of my calls for comment, but it seems as though things are heating up behind the scenes, with the investigators themselves coming under heavy fire.

KURT MANLEY: An interesting development indeed, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. By the way, I’m told by our top notch team of attorneys here at Network News One that we are able to reveal a very big secret to our audience, is that correct?

NATALIE BROCK: Yes, Kurt. During the Toilet Killer’s rampage, someone, and I’m fairly certain it was the Toilet Killer himself, texted my cell phone, providing me with updates on his gruesome crimes. Upstanding citizen that I am, I reported this matter to Agent Walker and having been holding back on this information out of fear that publicly divulging it could jeopardize the investigation. However, Agent Walker has confirmed to me as of this morning that the results of her inquiry into the text messages came up inconclusive, and the Toilet Killer is no closer to being captured.

KURT MANLEY: Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties, I am stunned that Agent Walker is fumbling this case big time. I mean, you gave Agent Walker your phone with text messages on it from the killer. What more evidence could she possibly need?

NATALIE BROCK: We can only assume those messages were from the killer, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Don’t interrupt a man while he’s speaking, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties.

NATALIE BROCK: I’m sorry, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: As you should be. I’m just pointing out that Agent Walker seems to be screwing up this case big time and a monkey wearing a Sherlock Holmes hat would probably be better suited to lead the investigation at this point. Maybe the Mayor is right. Maybe it’s time for someone without a vagina to take a look into this matter.

NATALIE BROCK: I’ll be staying on this case as it develops, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Thank you, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. Sticking with this story, while the toilet killer’s rampage has, so far, been concentrated in Florida, people across the country and around the world have voiced their own concerns about shitting.

(Footage is shown of people throwing toilets into the streets and smashing them with hammers and baseball bats.)

KURT MANLEY: Riots have broken out in every major city, with people smashing their toilets to smithereens, too afraid to even keep them in their homes anymore. Meanwhile, our intrepid team of Hot Ass Blonde Chick Reporters with Big Titties have informed this anchor that reports of shitting related fears have been coming in from every continent. Even scientists in Antartica are concerned…

(Footage shows of a scientist in a fluffy down parka with the hood pulled over his head squatting over a hole in the ice while a gaggle of penguins watch.)

KURT MANLEY: The Pope even commented on the situation during a recent mass at the Vatican…

(Footage of the Pope addressing a mass.)

THE POPE: Il poopi di poopi poopi si como ti poopi poopi il shitti shitti….

VOICE OVER TRANSLATOR: As Jesus once said, ‘Let he who is not afraid to take a shit cast the first shit.’ Blessed are the meek shitters, for they shall inherit the earth.

KURT MANLEY: And Sir Alistair Smythe, Official Spokesman for the Queen of England, had this to say.

(Footage of a rather dapper looking British gentleman in front of a podium.)

SIR ALISTAIR SMYTHE: Ladies and Gentlemen, the Queen very much appreciates your inquiries into her water closet related safety but I assure you, this is a non-issue. The Queen is not afraid to shit for the simple fact that Her Majesty has never once taken a shit in her entire life. Everyone knows that members of the royalty do not shit. Rather, their waste spontaneously combusts while a feint scent of cinnamon emanates from their bodily cavity.

(SIR SMYTHE looks around to see if the coast is clear.)

SIR ALISTAIR SMYTHE: But if you can keep it on the down low, then I might be inclined to inform you that Her Majesty will be taking her shits in the corner and blaming it on her adorable Corgis for the foreseeable future.

(Kurt, back in studio)

KURT MANLEY: Back at home, the presidential election is years away, yet President Stugotz’ top 2020 challengers are already turning the Toilet Killer’s wide swath of destruction into a campaign issue. Live via satellite feed, we have Senator Jason Batzengant, who intends to challenge President Stugotz in the next Republican presidential primary, and Senator Elsie Wannadingle, the Democratic frontrunner. Senators, welcome.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Thank you.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: Good to be here, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Senator Batzengant, let’s start with you. President Stugotz’s national approval ratings are stagnant, yet among Republican voters, they’re higher than ever. What makes you think you’d be able to knock Stugotz off the throne?

SENATOR BATZENGANT: I’ve got two words for you, Kurt. “Toilet Killer Insanity.”

KURT MANLEY: That’s three words, Senator.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Don’t try to trip me up with your fancy liberal book learning, Kurt. This Toilet Killer situation is a mess and President Stugotz has done nothing about it. President Stugotz promised to be a law and order president, one who would bring criminals to justice and yet he’s done nothing but play one round of golf after another while Florida residents are being murdered simply for exercising their constitutional right to shit.

KURT MANLEY: I’m not sure there is a constitutional right to shit, Senator.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: It’s in the back, somewhere. Listen, we need a president who isn’t going to be a little pussy boy, coddling criminals while God-fearing, taxpaying Americans are cowering in their bathrooms, scared to death of their own toilets and too afraid to shit. That’s why, when I’m president, I’m going to lock up anyone who has even looked at a toilet cross-eyed. That’s right, I am going to flood our prison industrial complex with people who fit a very distinct potential Toilet Killer profile and only then will it be safe to shit again.

KURT MANLEY: Senator Wannadingle, your thoughts?

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: Kurt, that blowhard conservative jackass has it all wrong.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Don’t call me a blowhard conservative, you commie pinko rug chomper.

KURT MANLEY: Let’s retract the claws, kittens. 2020 is still a long way away.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: All I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted by that jack booted fascist is that it is not very woke to assume this Toilet Killer is a bad person.

KURT MANLEY: But he’s killing people while they’re shitting on the toilet.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: Is he? Or is he expressing his rage at a system that puts the one percent of millionaires and billionaires above the impoverished classes. Maybe this Toilet Killer, maybe he’s a man, maybe he’s a woman, maybe he or she is a bisexual genderqueer other-kin with ambidextrous bilateral gender fluid anti-normative tendencies…we don’t know. What we can only assume though is this human being has most likely had a difficult life and after many years of being put upon by an unjust system, this person is finally lashing out so really, when you really think about it, we all had a role in creating this system so in essence, we are all the Toilet Killer.

(KURT MANLEY stares blankly into the camera.)

KURT MANLEY: Holy shit. Are you two really considered the best and brightest of your respective political parties?

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Yes Kurt.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: You know it.

(Kurt sighs and looks at a different camera.)

KURT MANLEY: Well, there you have it, folks. A Toilet Killer is on the loose and the country’s leaders have officially flushed their brains down the toilet. Don’t touch that dial and stay off the toilet as we’ll be bringing you the latest updates on America’s Shitting Nightmare. Coming up in the next hour, is there a cookie that can make you go blind? We’ll tell you which cookies to remove from your cookie jar after sports and weather but first, these commercial messages.

ANNOUNCER: Network News One. The Hottest Blonde Chick Reporters. The biggest titties. Oh yeah, and occasionally we report the news and shit.

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May 20 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 55

presentation01
The Mayor stormed through the police station, flanked by Sheriff Hammond on his left and a sleazy looking lawyer in an off the rack suit on his right.

“Walker, you horse’s ass!” the Mayor shouted. “Where’s my boy?”

Cole stepped out of the break room with Rusty in tow. “There a problem?”

The Mayor looked at his associates and laughed. “’Is there a problem?’ Son, is the pop of Catholic? Does a frog bump his ass on the ground every time he hops? You better believe there’s a big problem.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Sheriff Hammond said. “I always knew the situation between you and the Mayor was tense, Cole, but I never dreamed you’d be so unprofessional as to use your office to harass the son of a dedicated public servant.”

Cole sipped his coffee. “I didn’t harass the son of a just public servant,” the chief said as he pointed at the Mayor. “Just the son of that useless old drunk pile of shit over there.”

The Mayor was outraged. He turned to his lawer. “Sic em!”

The Mayor’s lawyer was a tall man with a bad rug on his head. He handed the Chief a piece of paper. “Chief Walker, I’m Max Weintraub of the Law Firm of Weintraub, Weintraub, Weintraub and LeFoy and this is a court order demanding the release of Buford Dufresne at once. You have no reason to detain this man.”

“Never was detaining him,” Cole said. “He was always free to go.”

“Oh, no,” Weintraub said. “Don’t think for one second you’re going to be able to fool me with that nonsense.”

“Say,” Rusty said. “Aren’t you that fella on TV with that commercial where you tell people you can get them big bags of cash?”

“No,” Weintraub said. “You’re thinking of my brother, Weintraub.”

“That’s not you?” Rusty asked.

“No,” Weintraub said. “I’m a different Weintraub.”

Sharon, Gordon and Buford emerged from Cole’s office. Buford ran like a little boy to his father.

“Daddy!” Buford shouted.

“Son!” the Mayor replied.

Father and son shared an embrace before the Mayor returned to his old tricks.

“What’s wrong with you people?” the Mayor asked Sharon. “Don’t the Feds got nothing better to do than harass pillars of the community like my boy here?”

“Mr. Mayor,” Sharon said. “We believe Buford is holding out on information that could help us find whoever killed your…I’m sorry, was Roxy your ex-wife?”

“No,” the Mayor said. “She was just a stripper at Big Ray-Ray’s House of Fancy Fun Bags back in 1989 when I strolled in, wearing a spiffy suit with big fake shoulder pads. Some random hair band music was playing and Roxy, why, she gave me the best time of my life for the low, low price of five dollars.”

“Five dollars?” Sharon asked.

“It was the eighties, darlin,’” the Mayor said. “You cold buy a damn house for five dollars. Anyway, we had our fun and nine months later, well…”

The Mayor reached up and put his hands over Buford’s ears. “We never had the heart to tell Buford he was an accident baby.”

“My Momma and Daddy were in love!” Buford shouted as the Mayor removed his hands from the boy’s ears.

“Well,” Sharon said. “Regardless of the relationship, don’t you want to see whoever killed your son’s mother brought to justice?”

“Indeed I do,” the Mayor said. “That’s why I’m gonna offer a big time cash reward for information leading to the Toilet Killer’s capture.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of you maybe talking to your son and getting him to tell us what he knows,” Sharon said.

“Are you kidding me?” the Mayor said. “Lady, the boy doesn’t know shit! Look at him. He’s like a giant fuckin’ man baby. He’s one step away from me having to change his diapers for him. I know what this is all really about.”

“And what is this about?” Sharon asked.

“You,” the Mayor said before he pointed to Cole, “And him used to be hitched until you left him on account of his diminutive penis.”

“I should get my own lawyer and sue you for slander,” Cole said.

“The truth is always a defense to slander, Chief,” Weintraub said. “You sue my client for his statement about your penis and I’ll be left with no choice but to file a demand that you produce your penis in court for a full inspection as to its size and length.”

Cole stepped up to the lawyer and looked him right in the eye. “That’s a challenge I’ll accept any day of the week and twice on Sunday, pal.”

The Mayor threw up his hands. “Look,” he said to his lawyer. “All I know is this police chief has always been after me, threatening me with scurrilous charges because I have been a vocal advocate of transferring Sitwell’s law enforcement needs to the capable hands of Sheriff Hammond here, and now he’s in cahoots with the gal he used to give his microscopic pecker to, trying to frame my boy to get back at me.”

“That’s absurd,” Sharon said.

“It is,” Cole said. “And if you’d just stop drinking and driving, I’d stop pulling you over, Beau.”

“That’s an outrage, sir,” Weintraub said. “One more crack like that and I’ll have a judge put a gag order on you.”

“Good,” Cole said. “Maybe I’ll hire one of the other Weintraubs to defend me.”

“They’re all busy,” Weintraub said as he handed the Chief a business card. “LeFoy’s free though and his rates are very reasonable.”

Cole slapped the business card out of the lawyer’s hand, then looked at the Mayor. “Take your spawn and get outta here!”

Sharon snapped at Cole. “That’s not your call to make.”

“Oh,” Cole said. “Sorry. You want to keep him?”

Sharon shook her head as she looked at the Mayor. “No. Take your spawn and get out of here.”

“You haven’t heard the last of this!” the Mayor shouted. “Sitwell PD is done! All of this, gone! Enjoy the unemployment line, Cole!”

Cole sipped his coffee and watched as the trio leave.

“Might as well cut that little turd loose too,” Cole said as he pointed at Paul, who was still sitting by a random desk. “I don’t think he knows anything.”

“Fine,” Sharon said. “But Cole, does the Mayor really have that kind of juice, enough to…get rid of you?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Cole said. “Sitwell’s changed a lot since you left. All power in these parts runs through, up, and out of that asshole’s asshole.”

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May 20 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 54

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Cole and Rusty had reconvened near the department’s coffee pot, each sipping from a mug.

“The dude was naked?” Rusty asked.

“As the day he was born,” Cole answered.

“And she was in a bathrobe?” Rusty asked.

“Yup,” Cole said.

“Wet hair?” Rusty asked. “Like she’d just been in the shower?”

“Yup,” Cole replied.

“And she was coming back to the room with a bucket of ice and a bottle of wine?” Rusty asked.

“Affirmative,” Cole said.

“That’s the most white trash thing I’ve ever heard of,” Rusty said. “Who puts ice cubes in wine?”

“I don’t know, Rusty,” Cole said. “Maybe the ice bucket was just to chill it.”

“And she got it for him,” Rusty said.

“What?” Cole asked.

“Well,” Rusty said. “Usually it’s the man doing romantic gestures, like going out to get a bottle of wine. But here, you got the woman doing it, so clearly she’s smitten.”

“Smitten?” Cole asked.

Rusty sipped his coffee. “Sharon ever bring you a bottle of wine?”

Cole sighed. “I can’t say that she has.”

“Didn’t think so,” Rusty said. “And I’m sorry to say this but given the circumstances you’ve laid out for me, I can come to no other conclusion than that your ex-wife and that big beast of a man are…”

“Don’t say it,” Cole said.

“…fucking,” Rusty said.

“I asked you not to say it,” Cole said.

Rusty ignored his friend’s plea and carried on. “Deep, down and dirty, hardcore, X-rated fucking.”

“Stop,” Cole said.

“Worse,” Rusty said. “This man has turned your ex into a slave…a slave for his gargantuan dong.”

“It was massive,” Cole said.

“Women pretend like size doesn’t matter but it matters, Cole,” Rusty said. “It totally matters. When a woman is with a man who has been blessed with a King Kong dong, all their talk about feminism and women’s rights goes out the window and they become a slave to the dong, doing all sorts of crazy things, like going out in a bathrobe in the middle of the night in search of alcohol to appease her well endowed master.”

“It was a mistake for me to go over there in the first place,” Cole said.

“Damn right,” Rusty said.

“You’re the one who told me to go over there,” Cole said.

“Did I?” Rusty asked. “Don’t listen to me, man. I say all kinds of shit.”

Maude stepped into the break room and set her oxygen tank down on the counter. She then poured herself a mug of coffee.

“What’s everyone talking about?” Maude asked.

“Nothing,” Cole said.

“Sharon’s getting straight up plowed by her partner,” Rusty said.

“Shut up,” Cole said.

“Dude’s got a damn boa constrictor in his pants,” Rusty said.

“Is that right?” Maude asked as she let a cigarette.

“I don’t see any need for this conversation to continue,” Cole said.

“It’s huge,” Rusty said. “Cole walked in on them while he was banging her into next week.”

“That’s…” Cole struggled to avoid an urge to slap Rusty. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m telling the story better than you told the story so I can keep Maude’s interest,” Rusty said.

“I’m not that interested,” Maude said.

“Aw come on, Maude,” Rusty said. “You’re a woman.”

“Last time I checked,” Maude said.

“Tell Cole to give up and move on already,” Rusty said. “Sharon’s got a damn bratwurst and there’s no way she’ll ever go back to a cocktail weenie.”

Rusty looked at Cole’s face. Suddenly, he knew he’d gone a step too far. “I’m not knocking cocktail weenies. I got one. You got one. Most men are average it’s just…men who are above average live lives of rarified air and when a woman gets a hold of a big ole’ baloney pony she’s never going to let it go, right Maude?”

Maude shrugged her shoulders. “I dumped a man with a big one for my Arnold.”

“What?” Rusty asked.

“It’s true,” Maude said. “When I was a girl…”

“…back when the world was young and dinosaurs roamed the earth,” Rusty added.

“You want the story or not?” Maude asked.

“Sorry,” Rusty said.

“When I was young,” Maude said. “I dated a man who was in a motorcycle gang and this fella was packing a unit that could have served as his very own kickstand.”

“Goddamn,” Rusty said.

“I don’t need to hear this,” Cole said.

“And sure, that life was fun for a young girl,” Maude said. “Drugs and danger and all that but you know what? Larry was a real asshole. Constantly cheated on me and took me for granted. The last straw came when I caught him in a truck stop bathroom with another girl. I walked right out of there and was fuming mad but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have a ride home so I…”

“Called upon your pet brontosaurus to whisk you away,” Rusty said.

Maude clutched her cigarette between her thumb and pointer finger. “I will put this out in your eye.”

“Understood,” Rusty said.

“I met Arnold,” Maude said. “He was a long haul trucker who had stopped for gas. Such a nice, sweet man. I gave him my number and he courted me proper. We went on all sorts of dates. He brought me flowers and the whole bit. And even though he had a small one, I told him I loved him every day until the day he died and I still do today every morning before I get out of bed. I just wish he were there to hear it. Ehh, maybe he still does somehow.”

“How small are we talking about?” Rusty asked.

“Oh,” Maude said. “Way, way below average. Looked like a button that got lost in a pile of wheat grass.”

Rusty chuckled.

“It was like a little mouse that was afraid to peek out of his hole,” Maude said. “But the moral of the story is, yes, women do love big ones, but any woman with half a brain isn’t going to put up with a bunch of bullshit to hang onto one…and she’ll even deal with a small one if its owner is a good egg.”

“I don’t have a small one,” Cole said.

“Whoa,” Maude said as she puffed on her cigarette. “That information is between you, God, and the millions of people who watch Network News One.”

“You get the point, Cole?” Rusty said. “You might still have a shot with Sharon if her partner ends up being an asshole.”

“Ugh,” Maude said.

“What?” Cole asked.

“Nothing,” Maude said.

“No, what?” Cole asked.

A thick trail of ash plopped into Maude’s coffee. That did not stop her from taking a long, vigorous sip. “None of my business, but if you go back to her after what she did to you, I’m going to call you a pussy.”

“That’s what I said,” Rusty said.

“Well,” Maude said as she exited the break room with her tank in one hand and cup in the other, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day, Prince Harry.”

Rusty and Cole stood there in awkward silence for a moment.

“You think she noticed her ash fell into her coffee?” Rusty asked.

“I don’t think she gives a shit,” Cole replied.

The duo stood and enjoyed their coffee for another minute before the loud, obnoxious ravings of the esteemed Mayor of Sitwell echoed through the station. “Cole Walker! Where the hell are you?!”

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