Bookshelf Battle

One month later, Cole and Sharon stood behind the counter of their newly acquired booth at the Sitwell Farmer’s Market. The sign attached to the back of the wall read, “Cole and Sharon’s Fresh Produce. We have Strawberries and Blueberries and Watermelons and Shit.”

Underneath the sign, Skippy’s stuffed head was mounted on the wall for the whole world to see. One eye was out, the other was. His jaws were open, as though they might snap down on an unsuspecting passerby at any second.

“I can’t believe you quit the FBI,” Cole said.

“I can,” Sharon said as she threw her arms around Cole’s waist and gazed up into her lover’s eyes. “If I never work another case again it will be too soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Mrs. Walker,” Cole said.

“Sure thing, Mr. Walker,” Sharon replied.

The romantic conversation was cut short when Maude and Burt bellied up to the bar. “Oh God, get a room you two. You got any strawberries?”

Cole pointed to the sign.

Maude nodded. “Alright then, give me a bushel. This one’s been raw dogging me non-stop and I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”

Burt’s face turned red. “Maude.”

“Oh please,” Maude said. “Sure, it’s more crooked than a Louisiana Congressman, but you can still pound nails with that thing. No small feat at your age. Be proud of it.”

“On the house,” Cole said as he handed Maude a box of fresh, red strawberries.

“You’re the worst businessman ever,” Maude said as she took the box. “You’ll be bankrupt in a week.”

“Then we’ll figure something else out,” Cole said.

Maude handed Cole a bundle of envelopes. “The post office is still sending your mail to the police station. You’re going to have to fill out one of those change of address forms…that is, unless you want to…”

“I’m never coming back,” Cole said.

“But the town council voted unanimously to reinstate you,” Maude said.

“They can vote to reinstate my foot up all of their asses,” Cole said. “They turned their back on me in my time of need. Now I turn my back on them.”
“Poetic,” Burt said.

“Then you do realize the department will be led by…Chief Rusty Yates,” Maude said. “Ugh. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t burn the place down his first day.”

“Somehow he’ll manage,” Cole said. “He’s got you, doesn’t he?

“That he does,” Maude said. “And I’ll be riding his ass like a dime store call girl the second I get back from vacation.”

“When are you leaving?” Cole asked.

“Tonight,” Maude said. “Our bags are packed and they’re stuffed with more dildos and handcuffs than Charlie Sheen’s dresser drawer. Aruba, here we come!”

“Wait,” Cole said. “If you leave this week, you’ll miss the ceremony with President Stugotz.”

“Please,” Maude said. “Like I voted for that turkey or any of the other turkeys who ran for president. I’ve got one vacation a year, Cole, and I don’t have many years or vacations left, so I’d rather spend my limited time getting jackhammered by this tall drink of water here.”

“Maude, please,” Burt said.

“Shut up and own it,” Maude said. “Just like you’re going to be owning my vagina all over the Caribbean soon.”

“Well Maude,” Cole said. “The DC trip just won’t be the same without you.”

“Washington DC?” Maude asked. “No thanks. If I want to be filled with hot air, I’ll just ask Burt to…”

“OK,” Burt said as he pulled on Maude’s arm. “We really should be going.”

“Right,” Maude said. “We’ve got to rest up so we can join the mile high club. Goodbye you two. I’m glad to see you’ve picked up the pieces of your shattered marriage and glued them back together again.”

Cole watched as Maude and Burt walked away. “I’m really going to miss her.”

“I know,” Sharon said.

“She was like the foul-mouthed, abusive, nicotine addicted mother I never had,” Cole said.

Cole fumbled through his mail. Bill. Bill. Bill. Junk mail. Junk mail. Finally, he opened up an enveloped marked “International Adoption Agency.” He read it to himself, mumbling along until he shook his head and muttered, “Damn it.”

“What?” Sharon asked.

Cole glared at the letter sitting on the counter, inviting Sharon to read it herself. She did so:

“Dr. Mr. and Mrs. Walker,

We regret to inform you that processing of your adoption application will be delayed six months to one year due to the high volume of requests we are fielding at this time. We thank you for your patience.”

Sharon rubbed Cole’s back. “I’m sorry baby.”

Rung-nung-nung-nung-nung-nung-nung-nah….nah….thunk!

The chainsaw blade snapped against the toilet gator’s impervious skin. Feeling defeated, Cole tossed the saw into the water and rained his fists down on the alligator’s back.

“Why…won’t…you…die?”

Up on the roof, Sharon aimed her pistol at Skippy. A clear shot evaded as one second, there was an alligator in her field of view and the next, Cole, as man and beast thrashed about wildly in the overflowed street.

Down in the water, an exhausted Cole punched Skippy in the head repeatedly. “Die, damn you!”

Bonk. Cole felt a random object slap up against his head. As he looked up, he saw a rope ladder attached to…an Apache attack helicopter that just so happened to have fallen off the back of a truck.

The blades whipped around and around as the chopper hovered in a still formation, twenty feet above the ground.

“Come on, partner,” came the voice of Moses over the helicopter’s loudspeaker. “Ain’t no shame in retreating when you’re outmatched. Get on up here and live another day.”

Cole didn’t hesitate. He grabbed hold of the ladder and as he began to climb, the helicopter lifted into the air. As it did so, Cole narrowly avoided the gator’s snapping jaws as the monster jumped as far as he could out of the water before landing with a splash.

Moses spoke into the loudspeaker. “Hold on tight, boy! We’re going to strafe him!”

Cole held the ladder with a tight death grip as the helicopter moved forward for a bit. It then turned and pointed downward, giving Moses the angle he needed to turn the craft’s powerful, high caliber machine guns loose. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. Skippy wasn’t phased i the least.

Moses made another turn and hurried back. This time, mounds of gooey, oozy, jellied gasoline dropped out of the helicopter, landing with a series of hot, fiery explosions all over Skippy’s back.

“Hoo-wee!” Moses shouted through the loudspeaker. “I love the smell of burnt toilet gator in the morning!”

“Did that napalm fall off the back of a truck?!” Cole shouted.

“Hell no,” Moses said through the loudspeaker. “Every God fearing American man knows how to make his own napalm. If we don’t educate ourselves on the basics of napalm preparation then the terrorists win.”
Meanwhile on the rooftop, the rest of the gang watched the helicopter in shock.

“Moses has broken over a thousand laws by bringing that thing here,” Sharon said.

“Yeah,” Rusty said. “But ain’t it cool?”

Sharon nodded. “Yes it is.”

As soon as the flames dissipated, Cole peered down at the water. Soon, he saw Skippy’s eyes poke out of the surface of the makeshift river.

“He’s still alive!” Cole shouted as he climbed the ladder.

“Aw hell,” Moses said. “Hold on, I’ll go in for another pass.”

“No!” Cole shouted. “Nothing can kill him! Just get us out of here!”

The chopper bucked through the air as the heavy rain and winds pelted it. The craft turned and Moses fired a barrage of rockets at Skippy. When the explosions ceased, the toilet gator was nowhere to be found.

Moses lowered the chopper closer towards the street river to get a look. “See anything?” he asked through the speaker.

Cole examined the water. “No…I think maybe…”

“RAARGA!” Skippy jumped out of the water and chomped down on the ladder, catching it in a mighty, steel-trap like grip. The enormous lizard was so heavy that he began to pull the chopper down.

Cole scrambled up the ladder. “Pull up!” he shouted. “Pull up!”

Up in the cockpit, Moses wrestled with the controls. “Can’t…he’s too…heavy!”

The helicopter went down…down…down. Suddenly, Moses could be heard arguing with someone over the loudspeaker. “Hello? Hell no professor, now’s not a good time…oh…hold on, I’ll put you on speaker…hey Cole! The Professor’s got something to say!”

Cole looked down to see Skippy’s big, angry yellow eyes staring up at him. “Now’s not really a good time…”

“Mr. Walker!” came Professor Elliot’s voice over the loudspeaker. “So glad I was able to catch up with you. Now then, I have been examining the footage of your fight with the alligator and I believe…”

“Skip to the good part!” Cole shouted.

“You must shoot him in a soft spot,” the Professor said.

“What?!” Cole asked.

“His impeccable genes have obviously provided him with skin that serves as high grade battle armor,” the Professor explained. “So, the solution is simple. Shoot him in an unprotected spot, like the mouth or the…”

“…eye,” Cole said.

“Why, yes, I suppose that would do,” the Professor said. “That would lead to a direct path to the brain.”

Cole held onto the ladder with one hand and drew his Angry Barracuda with the other. With only one shot left, he pointed the weapon at Skippy’s right eye. As he aimed, the helicopter drew precariously close to the water logged street below.

“See you in hell…toilet gator.”

POW! Skippy’s eye exploded. He opened his jaws to cry out in pain, releasing the ladder and allowing the chopper to rise in the process.

As the helicopter lifted up high into the air, Cole watched as Skippy’s limp carcass hit the water.

“Think we got him?” Moses asked through the speaker.

“God, I hope so,” Cole said.