Tag Archives: horror

Toilet Gator – Chapter 107


“Buh bah buh buh bah bah….bah buh buh buh bah bah!”

In the cockpit of an Apache attack helicopter that just happened to fall off the back of a truck, Moses was having his very own Wilhelm Richard Wagner party, playing the great composer’s seminal work, “The Flight of the Valkyries” at full volume on a kick-ass stereo system.

The ex-military man turned gun range owner sang along, or rather, made instrumental sounds to distract his mind from the fact that he was flying straight into the crushing winds of a hurricane. “Buh bah buh buh bah bah….bah buh buh buh bah bah!”

Thick, heavy raindrops pelted the chopper’s windshield, mimicking the drops of sweat that rolled down Moses’ forehead. He had never been one to lose his cool, but he was growing ever more concerned by the fact that he was attempting to point his huey one way, but the wind was certain it should be going another. He gritted his teeth and gripped the stick and pushed as hard as he could, waging a one man battle against Mother Nature.

The chopper’s coms radio squawked. “Pssht…unidentified aircraft……come in…over.

Moses ignored the hail and kept right on singing his Wagner. “Buh bah buh buh bah bah….bah buh buh buh bah bah!”

“Unidentified air craft…this is Air Force central command…respond or you will be blown out of the sky.”

Moses turned down the music and responded. “Boy, who the hell do you think you’re talking to? You sound like you’re knee high to a pig’s thigh.”

“Identify yourself,” the voice said.

“Sergeant Moses T. Malone, United States Marine Corps, retired,” Moses said. “Who the hell are you?”

“This is Captain Barry Bostwick, U.S. Air Force, active duty. Turn back and land immediately. You’re flying an unauthorized military grade helicopter into a civilian area.”

“I’m aware, Barry,” Moses said. “That toilet gator aint gonna blow himself up now is he?”

“Excuse me?” Barry asked.

“There’s no excuse for you,” Moses said. “Son I was running all kinds of special ops long before you had hair on your nuts. Snatch and grabs. Run and guns. You name it. I bailed out Uncle Sam out of more jams than I can count so I won’t hear any more of your insubordinate lip. Let me guess, you got yourself a pretty starched uniform without a speck of dirt on it because you used your connections to rise to the top without wading a single toe into the shit…am I right?”

Barry scoffed. “How did you…look, we’re not here to talk about me.”

“I knew it,” Moses said. “You brass types are all the same. Plenty of brass in the phony medals on your shirt, not one scintilla of brass in your balls.”

“Do you have any idea how many laws you are breaking right now?” Barry asked.

“Can’t say for sure,” Moses said. “Between state, federal and local laws and regulations, I’m willing to wager upwards of 1,098. Am I close?”

“I don’t know,” Barry said. “I didn’t count them all out myself either. How the hell are you flying an Apache attack helicopter?”

“Fell off the back of a truck,” Moses said.

“It fell off a…sir, land that chopper right now or we’ll blow you out of the sky,” Barry said.

“Oh yeah?” Moses said. “You and what Air Force?”

“The Air Force,” Barry said. “The real live actual air force will blow you to bits.”

Moses peered through the rain soaked cockpit window. “I’m calling your bluff, boy. I don’t see a damn thing and Lord knows you all aren’t going to send a couple of multi-million dollar fighter jets into the certain doom of a hurricane just to take out my sorry ass.”

Barry accidentally left his thumb on the call button as he talked to other Air Force personnel in the command center. “Shit, he called our bluff and…oh, shit…is this thing still on? Look man, I don’t care what you have to say, land that thing now.”

“Can’t,” Moses said. “Gotta gator to kill.”

“The toilet gator?” Barry asked.

“Is there another one?” Moses asked.

“Wow,” Barry said. “We’ve been watching Cole Walker fight that gator on TV all day. I put fifty bucks on the gator in the office pool.”

“Well son,” Moses said. “Prepare for your wallet to be fifty simoleons lighter, because I’m gonna rip that lizard a new one…maybe a hundred new ones. Now get off the squawk box and let an ex-marine do his duty.”

“I guess we can look the other way for awhile,” Barry said. “But you’re still in a metric shit ton’s worth of trouble.”

“You know son,” Moses said. “I don’t think I am. All those laws you say I broke? I got a defense.”

“Really?” Barry asked. “Let’s hear it.”
“The Second Amendment,” Moses said.

Barry laughed. “Please.”

“I have the right to bear arms,” Moses said.

“The right to bear arms, yes,” Barry said. “The right to an Apache attack helicopter? No.”

“Well,” Moses said. “I suppose that might be a namby pamby liberal pantywaist interpretation of the Second Amendment, the kind someone who wants to crawl up inside Hilary Clinton’s vagina and take a nap might make.”

“Don’t give me that,” Barry said. “I’m a conservative, sir. I just don’t think the Founding Fathers anticipated the invention of the Apache attack helicopter. If they had, they would not want them in the hands of private citizens.”

“Yeah, well,” Moses said. “The Founding Fathers didn’t anticipate that there’d ever be a thousand pound toilet gator running amuck through downtown Sitwell, Florida, being all impervious to regular gunfire now did they?”

“I suppose not,” Barry said.

“The Founding Fathers wanted us to be able to protect ourselves with force commensurate to the attack being waged upon us,” Moses said. “If you’ve been watching that toilet gator in action, then you know this fabulous flying machine of death, destruction and mayhem is a more than reasonable option to defend against that surly beast.”

“Be that as it may…”

“Son,” Moses said. “Just thank me for doing that job for you. You all are watching the news. You’ve seen what that gator could do. You all should be sending all the fire and are power you got at that thing, hurricane be damned. But you’re all pussies, so just sit back and let a real man show you how it’s done.”

“But I….”

“Shh,” Moses said as he switched off the call. “No more talking.”

Moses turned up his Wagner. “Buh bah buh buh bah bah….bah buh buh buh bah bah!”

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 105



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.

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 99


“Cole!” Sharon shouted. “Are you crazy?!”

Cole gripped the gator’s skin with every ounce of strength he had in him, holding on tight as Skippy pressed forward, bucking wildly to the left and right in a vain attempt to throw Cole off while he chased the Diablo.

A bullet whizzed past Cole’s head.

“Rusty, you asshole!” Cole screamed. “Cease fire!”

The skies opened and the rain poured down heavily. This made it even more difficult for Cole to hold on. Plus, the poor weather interfered with the group cell phone conversation. Cole could barely make out the words that were being spoken to him through the static.

“My bad,” Rusty said. “Bzztt bssshhhkktz…I was aiming at the gator.”

Cole pulled out a long, incredibly sharp combat knife with a jagged edge from a sheath clipped to his belt. He used his left hand to clutch the gator’s hide even harder, while he used his right hand to raise the blade high into the air and bring it down onto the gator’s head.

Snap! The blade broke off as soon as it hit the gator’s head, flew into the air and clattered on the highway below.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Cole said.

“Cole,” came the voice of Maude in Cole’s ear. “Are you ever gonna put on some pants or are you just gonna let your tucas flap in the breeze all day for the entire world to see?”

“Not exactly my top priority right now, Maude!” Cole said.

“Yeah, well, make it a priority to get off that gator,” Maude said. “How in the hell am I going to shove this big rig up his ass when you’re riding him like Seabiscuit?”

Cole turned to the right and looked at the giant, gator-sized dent in the trailer attached to the right Burt was driving. “Doesn’t look like it will work.”

“Won’t hurt to try,” Maude said.

Sharon and Rusty were ahead of Cole. Maude’s truck was to the left. Burt’s truck remained on the right. Behind him? A plethora of fast moving cars that were virtually certain to run him over if the gator didn’t find a way to mangle him first.

Cole spotted a bright, shiny grab bar next to the driver’s side door of Burt’s truck.

“Here goes nothing,” Cole said. With his one and only leg, he pushed off of Skippy’s back, narrowly missed being snapped between a set of gator jaws, and snagged hold of the grab bar with his right hand.
Burt rolled down his window. “Son, you must have a death wish!”

The old man kept one hand on the wheel of the big rig and offered Cole his left hand. Cole grabbed it, shimmied through the open window and into the passenger’s side of the cab.

“Oh God,” Cole said as he struggled to catch his breath. “Oh my God.”

“Looks like killing a toilet gator is harder than we thought,” Burt said.

“You think?” Cole asked.

The Diablo swerved and sideswiped Maude’s rig.

“Whoa,” Maude said. “Watch it there, girly!”

“This thing handles like shit in the rain!” Sharon said. “I’ve got to get off.”

“Take the next exit,” Cole said. “We’ll head downtown and box him in.”

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 94


With the rope still firmly secured around his waist, Cole walked through the bathroom, checking under all the stalls to make sure no one was around. Seeing no one, he entered the spacious handicapped stall and popped a bluetooth headset into his ear. He pressed a button and waited a few seconds.

“Can everybody here me?” Cole asked.

“Yup,” Sharon said. “Setting up the conference call now and…it’s on.”

“Mister Walker?” Professor Lambert asked.

“Hell, Professor, just call me Cole.”

“Very well,” the Professor said. “Cole, I just want to thank you for what you are about to do. I have studied toilet gators my entire life but never had the courage to confront one and alas, I would not be much help to you on the ground. I will, however, be monitoring Miss Brock’s coverage from my office and will be available for any advice you may need.”

“Roger that,” Cole said.

Natalie Brock came on the line. “Thank you for this exclusive, Cole. Walter and I will do our best to stay out of your way.”

“Appreciated,” Cole said. “Maude, you and Burt there?”

“Hoowee!” Maude said. “We got a great big convoy!”

“Sounds like you’re having too much fun, Maude,” Cole said. “Stay sharp, OK?”

“Don’t tell me what to do, sweet britches,” Maude replied.

“Moses?” Cole asked.

Dead silence.

“Moses, you there?” Cole asked.

More silence.

“Shit,” Cole said. “Anyone have eyes on Moses?”

“I haven’t seen him since this morning,” Rusty said.

“Felix?” Cole asked.


“Damn it, Felix, can you make a sound or something?”

“Errm,” Felix said.

“Is Moses with you?” Cole asked.

“Errm?” Felix said in a quizzical manner.

“Oh for the love of,” Cole said. “Felix, have you got the Javelin?”

“Errm,” Felix said.

“Is that, ‘Errm yes’ or ‘Errm no’?” Cole asked.

“Errm,” Felix said.

Cole slapped his head. “OK, Felix, one errm for yes, two errms for no, got it?”

“Errm,” Felix said.

“Is Moses with you?” Cole asked.

There was a brief delay before Felix finally answered, “Errm, errm.”

“Do you know where he want?” Cole asked.

“Errm, errm,” Felix replied.

“Do you have the Javelin?” Cole asked.

“Errm,” Felix said.

Sharon intervened. “I don’t like the sound of this. Maybe we should abort.”

“No,” Cole said. “Felix, do you know how to use that thing?”

“Errm,” Felix said.

“Screw it then,” Cole said.

“But Moses,” Sharon said. “He should be…”

“I have no idea,” Cole said. “Maybe he went and got a beer or found another man to hug or something.”

“Not funny,” Rusty said.

“The mission proceeds as planned, people,” Cole said. “Everyone to their positions.”

Cole lifted his left leg up, then plunged it deep into the wet toilet bowl. He winced as he felt the cold water seep into his sock.

“Damn it,” Cole said.

“Everything ok?” Sharon asked.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “Just, these are my best shoes.”

“We’ll get you another pair, baby,” Sharon said.

“I know,” Cole said.

“We’ll do a lot of things when this is over,” Sharon said.

“I know,” Cole said.

Rusty made a series of gagging sounds.

“Shut up, Rusty,” Cole said.

Cole pulled the Angry Barracuda out of a holster that had been attached to his belt, then closed his eyes and took a deep breathe. “Here, gator, gator, gator…”

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 94


It was sheer chaos at the Sitwell Park Mall. Soldiers scrambled to secure the area as looters ran out of stores carrying boxes, gadgets, gizmos, merchandise and food in their arms.

“You’d think people would just stay home at a time like this,” Sharon said.

“Oh,” Cole said. “You know how it is. Every time there’s a hurricane, a bunch of assholes run around screaming…”

“…I need my bread and milk!” an old lady hollered as she pushed a cart full of food out of the mall’s Price Town store. “I’ll die without my bread and milk!”

“Everyone always thinks they’re going to die in a storm if they aren’t stocked up on bread and milk,” Cole explained.

A random soldier barked orders into a megaphone. “People, please disperse! Vacate the mall immediately!”

“Cole,” Rusty said. “Look at this place. It’s a powder keg ready to go off.”

A homeless man ran out of an electronics store with a flat screen TV. “The end times are upon us! If the hurricane doesn’t get us, the toilet gator will! Repent, sinners! Repent!”

“Hate to say it but Rusty’s right,” Sharon said. “Is now really the best time to go to war with a half-ton eating machine?”

Cole turned his baseball cap around backwards. “It’s now or never baby.”

Rusty shook his head.

“What?” Cole asked.

“Even I know better than to wear a backwards hat after forty,” Rusty said.

Cole had borrowed Rusty’s breakaway pants, and the weather proof fabric made a “swish, swish” sound as Cole walked.

“I can’t believe you used to wear this,” Cole said. “Did it ever get you any action?”

“You’d be surprised,” Rusty said.

The trio stopped right in front of the cherry red Yarikazi Diablo, the one still on display courtesy of the late Mayor Beaumont Dufresne’s Slightly Used Car Emporium. V8 engine, maximum horsepower, capable of accelerating from zero to sixty in ten seconds, anti-lock breaks, automatic transmission…it was fully loaded, not to mention, incredibly shiny.

“It’s a damn shame what’s about to happen to this car,” Rusty said.

“I’ll try to get it back in one piece,” Sharon said.

“Women drivers, no survivors,” Rusty said.

“Bite me,” Sharon replied.

Cole opened up a duffel bag and pulled out a long metal slim jim. He passed it to his ex-wife, then pulled out a rope and clipped one end to his belt. Oddly, the belt was secured around his naked waist, since the breakaway pants didn’t have any loops.

The soldier spotted the trio from across the mall and shouted into his megaphone. “You three! Whatever you’re doing, stop it immediately and leave! That’s an order!”

Cole didn’t have a megaphone, so he shouted as loudly as possible. “It’s ok! We’re cops, here to kill the toilet gator!”

Unfortunately, Cole’s voice barely traveled to the solider’s ear, what with all the commotion going on. “What?!”

Cole held his hands up to the sides of his mouth, forming a cone shape to yell into. “I said, ‘We’re cops, here to kill the toilet gator!’”

The soldier was about to approach when he spotted two women fighting over a pair of high heels.

“They’re mine, bitch!” the first woman cried.

“They’re too small for your fat feet, ho-bag!” the second woman shouted. “They’re mine!”

The soldier ran over to break up the fight, giving the trio the time they needed to complete their car heist. The doors unlocked and Sharon pulled the jimmy stick out from the thin slot between the window and the door.

“Since when do you know how to do that?” Cole asked as he handed the other end of the rope to Rusty.

Sharon poked her hand underneath the steering wheel and pulled out a series of wires, all in an effort to hot wire the car. She used a small blade to splice a few wires together and within seconds the Diablo’s engine began to hum.

“Whoa nelly,” Rusty said. “Listen to that tiger growl.”

Sharon sat up in the driver’s seat and looked up at Cole. “You learn a few things in the FBI.”

“Apparently,” Cole said.

Cole leaned down and shared a kiss with his love. Rusty gagged. “Cough, cough, pussy! Cough, Cough.”

“Whatever,” Cole said. He rested his hands on Rusty’s shoulders and looked the redhead in the eyes. “You’re my best friend, Rusty. I mean that.”

Rusty held back the tears. “Cole, if I could, I’d really like to snuggle you for a moment.”

Cole backed away. “Not on your life.”

The former police chief picked up his end of the room and walked towards the men’s restroom. He turned one last time to catch a glimpse of Sharon, then looked at Rusty. “Keep her safe.”

Although Rusty wasn’t in the military, a powerful feeling of emotion came over him, causing him to salute Cole. “Will do, boss. Will do.”

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Seventeen Weeks of Toilet Gator Sundays

Can you believe I’ve been working on Toilet Gator for so long?

It’s actually winding down.  We’re approaching the climactic final chapters where Cole finally fights the toilet gator.

I can’t wait, can you?


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Toilet Gator – Chapter 89


Night fell over Sitwell as Moses led Cole into the hanger bay of a small, regional airport on the outskirts of town.

Cole looked around. He was surrounded by boxes filled with guns, ammo, and various vehicles covered with tarps. The walls were lined with shelves filled with bottles of protein powder, boxes of energy bars and meals ready to eat.

“How could you possibly afford to rent a place like this?” Cole asked.

“Cole,” Moses said. “I’ve never poked my nose into your personal business before and I’d appreciate it if you’d extend me the same courtesy.”

“I’m just surprised is all,” Cole said.

“Let’s just say I did a lot of shit in my day,” Moses said. “While Uncle Sam had me globe trotting all over the world doing his grunt work, I came up with all sorts of creative ways to cut me off a slice of the pie while no one was looking. People may think I’m crazy for being a doomsday prepper but I only keep this stuff in the event of a rainy day and brother, that toilet gator is making it pour.”

“Well,” Cole said. “What have you got?”

“I haven’t got a handgun that can match the awesome power of your Angry Barracuda, but…”

Moses fished around inside a crate and pulled out a rather menacing looking grenade launcher. “They call it the six-pack. It can launch up to a half-dozen grenades at the pull of a trigger.”

Cole took the weapon and examined it. “Nice.”

“You feed one of those to our scaly friend and he’ll end up with a bad case of heartburn, let me tell you,” Moses said. “I once saw one of those vaporize a man. Like, the dude was a man one second and the next, he was like a mist of soupy blood and guts falling to the ground.”

“Sounds like he was liquified then,” Cole said.

“Don’t play word games with me Cole,” Moses said. “Your fancy two-year associate’s degree from SCC means nothing to me.”

“Sorry,” Cole said. “Where’d you get it?”

Moses smirked. “Let’s just say it fell off the back of a truck.”

“Gotcha,” Cole said.

Moses pulled out a large machine gun. “The M249 Squad Automatic Weapon, better known as the ‘SAW.’ They call it that because it cuts through the enemy like a chainsaw through a piece of rotten wood. You point this at that alligator and it will spit hot lead at that big green prick like hellfire screaming out of the belly of the devil himself.”

“Did that fall off the back of a truck too?” Cole asked.

“You know it,” Moses said.

The doomsday prepper opened up a large metal box. Cole marveled at the site of what appeared to be a large bazooka.

“The Javelin,” Moses said. “The most powerful anti-tank missile capable of being fired from the shoulder of a human. Whoever’s doing the firing needs to line the target up but once it has locked on, God help whatever poor son of a bitch gets in its way.”

“Truck?” Cole asked.

“Truck,” Moses answered.

“Military truck drivers sure are sloppy,” Cole said.

“That they are,” Moses said.

Moses opened up a box to reveal a brick of a white, clay-like substance wrapped in clear cellophane.

“C4,” Moses said. “Plastic explosive. Insert the detonator, blow it up on your terms at a time of your choosing. Fell off the back of a…”

“…truck,” Cole said. “I got it. Everything in here just fell of the back of a truck.”

“I did not steal any of this,” Moses said. “I’m just keeping it all safe until the military realizes they lost it and asks for it back. Not my fault if they’re taking forever to realize its gone.”

In the center of the room, a large object was covered by a tarp. Cole lifted it up a tad to reveal a piece of camouflaged color metal with the word, “APACHE” stamped on it.

“You’re kidding me,” Cole said.

“Nope,” Moses said.

“Don’t tell me that fell off the back of a truck,” Cole said.

“I can’t tell you that it did not, not fall of the back of a truck,” Moses replied.

Cole let the tarp fall back over the metal object and pondered what he had just seen. “Hmm.”

“What?” Moses asked.

“Nothing,” Cole said. “It’s just, that’d be too much, right?”

“Definitely,” Moses said. “Hell, if I take it out of this hanger I’d be breaking about a thousand different laws.”

“Exactly,” Cole said.

“Hell,” Moses said. “I’m in hot water just for having it here.”

“Yeah,” Cole said as he stared at the tarp covered object.

“Yup,” Moses added.

“Let’s forget we ever considered it,” Cole said.

“Entirely forgotten,” Moses said.


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Sixteen Weeks of Toilet Gator Sundays

Sixteen weeks.  Wow.  Time goes by so quickly.

I suppose “Toilet Gator Sundays” is a misnomer at this point.  At first, I pledged that I would only work on Toilet Gator on Sundays in order to give me enough time to finish Zom Fu.

At some point, I began cracking myself up that I just keep speeding through Toilet Gator.  Zom Fu is mostly done.  It just needs an ending.

My plan at this point is to finish the Toilet Gator first draft, then finish the Zom Fu first draft.  Then rewrite both books, get them off to an editor.  I’d like to say they will both be out by the end of this year but if it goes into next year, then so be it.

I have come to accept that writing is a long game.  I don’t like it, but I accept it.


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Toilet Gator – Chapter 72


Three hours into the stakeout, Rusty and Bishop were having themselves a grand old time. There were swapping stories, telling jokes and a bottle of scotch purchased from the liquor store loosened their lips quite a bit.

“And so I says to the lady bartender….get this…I says….” Rusty was beside himself with laughter, slapping his knee.

“What did you say?” Bishop asked.

“I said,” Rusty said between chuckles. “Is that a cucumber in your pocketbook or are you happy to see me?”

Bishop busted out laughing. “Bahhh ha ha ha!”

The big man wiped some tears of joy from his eyes and calmed down. “Shit. You’re alright, Red.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, big guy,” Rusty said.

“When I met you I thought you were just some dumbass hillbilly cop trying to throw his weight around,” Bishop said.

“I am,” Rusty said. “Don’t tell anyone any different. I got a reputation to uphold. Oh and I thought you were some kinda musclebound ex-marine who gets off on intimidating people with his size.”

“Ex-Navy Seal,” Bishop said.

“Get out,” Rusty said.

“True,” Bishop said.

“You were over there in the shit?” Rusty asked.

“You know it,” Bishop said.

“How was that?” Rusty said.

“It was like a really fun vacation to an amusement park,” Bishop said. “What do you think it was like?”

“Sorry,” Rusty said. “Dumb question.”

“Nah,” Bishop said. “It’s alright. It was hell. Saw too many people die. Came too close to dying myself too many times. I was ready to be out.”

“Must have been an adjustment coming back to the states,” Rusty said.
“At first, yes,” Bishop said. “But honestly, ever since I got back, little has bothered me. If you can live through war, then you can live through anything.”

“Good for you,” Rusty said.

The duo clanked their scotch filled paper cups together. “Cheers,” Bishop said.

“Back at ya,” Rusty replied.

The two men sat in Bishop’s car, keeping their eyes glued on Buford’s motel room door. No movement.

“You know though, I gotta say, I feel bad for shooting the breeze with you like this on account…”

“What?” Bishop asked.

“Well,” Rusty said. “Cole’s my best friend and you his ex-wife are…”

Bishop grimaced. “Are what?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Rusty said. “I get that she’s divorced and she’s not Cole’s property or anything it’s just, you know, I feel disloyal hanging out here with you while you’re with the love of my best buddy’s life is all.”

Bishop laughed. “You really are a dumbass hayseed.”

“What?” Rusty asked.

“Sharon and I aren’t together,” Bishop said.


“What made you think we are?” Bishop asked.

“I dunno,” Rusty said. “Cole said he walked in on you two and you were…”

Bishop sighed. “Spit it out!”

“Naked,” Rusty said. “Sans pantaloons as the French say.”

“The French don’t say that,” Bishop said.

“Do I look like I’ve been to Paris?” Rusty asked.

“I was naked because I was doing pushups,” Bishop said.

“Why the hell would you get naked to do pushups?” Rusty asked.

“Clothes are restrictive,” Bishop said. “Being naked helps my body move better. It gives me the edge I need to stay fit.”

“Bullshit,” Rusty said.

“No shit,” Bishop said. “You aren’t going to get your best workout if you’re stopping every five minutes to adjust your pants.”

“What about the wine?” Rusty asked.

“What about it?” Gordon replied. “Sharon has exactly one glass every night. Helps her sleep.”

Rusty was skeptical. “You mean to tell me that two adults in their sexual prime, one of them naked, the other in a bathrobe, and there’s a bottle of wine in the mix and neither of you…”

“Nope,” Bishop said.

“I still call bullshit,” Rusty said.

“Call all you want,” Bishop replied. “Nothing has ever happened between us.”

“Something’s not right,” Rusty said. “How are you gonna run around in your all together in the presence of a woman you work with and you’re not either banging her or getting sued by her for sexual harassment?”

“God man, I dunno,” Bishop said. “Sharon’s been my partner for ten years now. We went through Quantico training together. We’ve been through all sorts of shit, saved each others’ asses more times than I can count. There’s little either of us can do to shock the other at this point. She’s just a good friend.”

“A good friend?” Rusty asked.

“That’s all,” Bishop replied.

“That you don’t want to…”

“She’d have to grow a dick,” Bishop said.

Rusty smiled. “Oh ok.”

The duo sat there in silence for awhile. Rusty dozed off, then perked up when the gravity of Bishop’s last statement hit him. “Wait, what?”

“I’m gay, man,” Bishop said.

“Get out,” Rusty said.

“Why do you keep telling me to get out?” Bishop asked. “Where am I going to go?”
“You’re gay?” Rusty asked.

“I didn’t stutter,” Bishop answered.

“You?” Rusty said. “With all your muscles?”

“Yes,” Bishop said.

“Seems like a waste,” Rusty said.

“How’s that?” Bishop asked.

“Well shit,” Rusty said. “If I had your body, I’d be grabbing more pussy than a crazy old cat lady, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t know if you might have heard,” Bishop said. “But gay men like muscles too and I do just fine.”

Rusty shifted in his seat. “That’s probably more information than I need.”

“Too fine actually,” Bishop said. “Sharon keeps nagging me to find a special guy to settle down with but I don’t know. Life is meant to be lived to the fullest, you know? Each man I’m with, it’s like a whole new, beautiful experience.”

Rusty looked at his watch. “Oh wow, look at the time. We should probably wrap this up. This dipshit probably went to bed.”

“Oh I see how it is,” Bishop said.

“How what it is?” Rusty asked.

“You’re one of those ignorant rednecks who thinks that just because a guy is gay he must automatically want your dopey ass,” Bishop said.

“I didn’t say that,” Rusty said.

“Probably got more red hair on it than Willie Nelson’s beard,” Bishop said.

“I didn’t,” Rusty repeated. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that, is all. It’s a free country man. I’m not telling you to stop being you.”

“Whatever,” Bishop said.

Further silence ensued until Rusty broke through. “It’s actually been nice talking to you.”

“Yeah,” Bishop said. “You too.”

“Cole and I used to talk like this,” Rusty said. “Back when we were younger. But ever since…well, he went through a lot of shit and he just clammed up. I do miss chatting with my friend, I’ll tell you that.”

“I’ll chat with you anytime,” Bishop said. “Just don’t get any crazy ideas about me being interested in you. I can do way better than you.”

“I…shit,” Rusty said. “I don’t even know what to say to that. Am I insulting you if I tell you I don’t want that? Am I insulting you if tell the truth? Can you just be you and I’ll be me? Damn, this is a confusing ass time we live in.”

“Just say whatever you want,” Bishop said.

Rusty took a sip of scotch. “You know it’s just that…”

“What?” Bishop asked.

“Look, I’m not gay,” Rusty say.

“If you gotta declare it…” Bishop said.

“Shut up,” Rusty said. “Nah, it’s just, there have been times in my life where I’ve tried to open up to women about my feelings, you know? Only they have no idea how men work and there were times where, and shit don’t you repeat this…”

“I won’t,” Bishop said.

“There were times back in the day when Cole and I used to talk more where I felt like, if I could just put my arm around him and snuggle for awhile, it would be nice,” Rusty said.

“Interesting,” Bishop said.

“It would be comforting to be held by someone who understands where you’re coming from, regardless of what genitals they got, you know?” Rusty said.

“I hear you,” Bishop said.

“That doesn’t mean I’m gay, does it?” Rusty asked.

“I don’t know,” Bishop said. “Do you think it does?”

“I don’t think so,” Rusty said. “Because I still think about pussy twenty-four seven and titties? Don’t get me started. The bigger the better.”

“Maybe you’re bisexual,” Bishop said.

“I do buy it, yeah,” Rusty said.

Bishop smirked. “No. ‘Bisexual.’ You like men and women.”
“What?” Rusty asked. “Like an AC/DC outlet? Nah. I only go one way.”

“You sure about that?” Bishop asked. “Can’t think of many straight men who would want to snuggle with another man.”

“Well,” Rusty said. “Here’s the big question though. You know that part of gay sex where one dude blasts another dude in the ass?”

“I’ve heard about it, yes,” Bishop said.

“I’m not trying to insult you,” Rusty said. “But I think that’s the most disgusting thing ever. I mean, the idea of one dude jamming his ramrod up my backdoor makes me want to vomit out everything I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.”

“Maybe that’s just because you’ve never tried it before,” Bishop said.

“Yeah, well,” Rusty replied. “I’ve never been hit by an oncoming train but I’m pretty sure I don’t have to in order to comprehend that the experience would be less than enjoyable.”

Bishop shrugged. “To each their own.”

“See this one time,” Rusty said. “I went to the doctor because my stool was coming out red.”

“There’s a turn-on,” Bishop said.

“Nah, it was OK,” Rusty said. “Turns out I was just using way too much cherry drink mix. But just to be sure, the Doctor stuck his finger up my old wazoo and boy, that did not feel good at all. Felt like a burglar was trying to pry a rusty old iron door open with a crowbar.”

“So what are you saying?” Bishop asked.

“I’m saying that I love pussy,” Rusty said. “And I’m not gay. And I still hope to marry a woman one day but…I would really like to feel safe in another man’s arms. Is that even a thing?”

“It’s 2017,” Bishop said. “Everything’s a thing.”

Rusty and Bishop locked eyes. Before he knew it, Bishop was putting his big, strong arm around Rusty and pulling him in close.

“Oh shit,” Rusty said.

“Shh,” Bishop said as he wrapped his other arm around Rusty. “Don’t fight it.”

Rusty breathed a sigh of epic relief as he buried his face into Bishop’s thick neck and sniffed a burly, manly scent. “Aww yeah. That’s the stuff.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Bishop asked.
“Oh God yes,” Rusty said. “Like being a little bear cub wrapped up all snuggly soft in his mother’s arms.”

“OK then,” Bishop said.

“This must be what a baby kangaroo feels like in his mother’s pouch,” Rusty said.

“Sure,” Bishop said.

“It’s like someone just picked me up and shoved me up my mother’s uterus again,” Rusty said.

“And you ruined it,” Bishop said.

“I did?” Rusty asked.

Bishop rubbed his hand up and down Rusty’s back. “No.”

“Bishop?” Rusty asked.

“Yeah?” Bishop replied.

“You think I could ever find a man who would be willing to do this for me on the regular?” Rusty asked.

“I don’t know,” Bishop said. “Anything’s possible I suppose.”

“But unlikely,” Rusty said. “Because sooner or later he’ll want to invade my behind with his heat seeking moisture missile.”

“True enough,” Bishop said.

“No rear entry is like a total deal breaker for male on male relationship?” Rusty asked.

“Maybe not at first,” Bishop said. “But any long lasting relationship of any kind isn’t going to happen unless there’s physical intimacy…of the carnal variety.”

“So two men can’t just get together on a long term basis and cuddle without fucking?” Rusty asked.

“Afraid not,” Bishop said.

“God damn it,” Rusty said. “Men are such pigs.”

“We really are,” Bishop replied.

The sound of a door slamming broke up the party. Bishop and Rusty released one another and turned their eyes to Buford, who was walking out of his hotel room with an assault rifle in hand.
“Holy shit,” Rusty said. “Should we bust him?”

“Nah,” Bishop said. “That’s an AR-15. Legal. He’ll just flash a permit and say he was putting it in his truck to take it to the range tomorrow or something.”

Buford put the rifle into his truck, then got in and started his engine.

“So what do we do?” Rusty asked.

Bishop switched on his ignition. “We find out what he plans to do with it.”

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 48 (Full)


Cole and Rusty stood on top of of Roxy’s trailer and watched as Capt. Rick Roundtree of the Sitwell Fire Department cut into the steel with an ultra-sharp circular saw. Sparks flew everywhere and the Captain had to take periodic breaks every time the blade got too hot.

The Captain flipped open his soldering mask. “What the hell happen here? Buncha drunk kids tip this thing over?”

“Beats me,” Cole replied. “Manager just called saying he heard a big fuss and when he came out, Old Roxy’s place was like this.”

“Weird,” the Captain said as he flipped his mask down. “Because it’s not like its hurricane season so I doubt the damn thing didn’t just blow over.”

Captain Roundtree continued to cut.

Rusty nudged Cole in the ribs. “Hey Cole. Maybe this trailer was a-rockin’ when someone came a-knockin.’”

Cole stood there in silence.

“Get it?” Rusty asked.

Cole did not respond.

“Because, you know, Roxy’s been known to dabble in the world’s oldest profession,” Rusty said.

Still, no response from Cole.

“Roxy’s a hooker!” Rusty said. “You get it?”

“Oh yeah,” Cole said. “I got it but first, if you have to explain it, then it’s not funny and second, there’s a woman’s life at stake here. Does everything have to be a joke with you?”

“I wouldn’t say, ‘everything,’” Rusty said. “But I like to think if the situation were reversed and I was trapped in a knocked over trailer I wouldn’t mind if someone had a few laughs at my expense.”

“Grow up,” Cole said.

“People gotta laugh, Cole,” Rusty said. “People gotta find happiness in this twisted world wherever they can find it.”

The Captain switched off his saw and set it aside. He and a few other firemen then removed a large, square section of steel. Captain Roundtree took a flashlight off of his belt and shined it down into the darkness of the turned over trailer.

“Hello!” Captain Roundtree. “Fire department! Anyone down there?”

A few seconds past before a very weak sounding Paul answered. “Hello?”

The Captain searched around the trailer with his light until he landed the beam on Paul’s face. Paul was slathered with a thick coat of blood, water, and a brown substance which could have only been…

“Shit!” the Captain said as he looked up at Cole. “You gotta see this.”

Cole joined the Captain. He took out his flashlight, squatted down over the square hole and peered down at Paul. “You alright?”

“Are we talking physically or emotionally?” Paul asked.

“Physical’s my main concern at the moment,” Cole answered as he leaned down and shoved his hand into the square hole. “Take my hand, son.”

Paul reached for Cole’s hand but it was no use. He stood up on his tippy toes. He tried jumping for it. The kid was just too short.

“Damn it,” Cole said. “Someone will have to go down there.”

Cole waited for someone to step up, but all the firemen looked away, avoiding eye contact.

“Don’t everyone volunteer at once now,” Cole said.

All the firemen began whistling jaunty tunes, pretending they couldn’t hear the police chief.

“Fine,” Cole said. “I’ll do it myself.”

“No,” Rusty said. “I’ll do it.”

Cole was surprised. “You will?”

“Damn right I will,” Rusty said. “Cole, I never told you this but every once in awhile, old Chief Haskell and I get together and have a few beers and get down on ourselves for not following you into Wade Randolph’s shack that night. Hell, I hate to play the ‘woulda, shoulda, coulda’ game but it’s been hard for the old chief and I to not think about the possibility that maybe, just maybe, had all three of us worked together, we could have taken down that vicious dog no sweat.”

“I have no doubt that all three of could shot that dog dead instantly,” Cole said.

Rusty stared off at the moon, lost in thought. “I know whenever I think about that day, I say to myself, ‘If I’d only manned up, would Cole still have his leg?”

“Yes,” Cole said. “I most certainly would.”

“Would Cole’s wife never have run out on him?” Rusty asked.

“She would not have,” Cole replied.

“Would Cole be a happier man today?”

“A thousand times happier,” Cole said. “Without question.”

Rusty snapped out of his philosophical trance and looked down the hole. “I’m not gonna fail you twice, buddy.”

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