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May 31 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Network News One Transcript Number Six

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Network News One – Transcript #6

KURT MANLEY: Witnesses on the scene report that Congressman Rosenschluntz flipped the House Chamber the bird, then stormed off in a huff, mumbling, and this is a direct quote, “If you won’t send any pork to my state then you can all smooch my butt and call it ice cream. In other news, civil war continues to rage in No-One-Can-Pronounce-This-Shitty-Country’s-Name-istan. Here in the studio to discuss this conflict are two pundits, Network News One’s very own Insane Talking Head Number One and Insane Talking Head Number Two. Lady and gentleman, it’s good to have you with us this morning.

(The screen splits three ways. Kurt’s head appears in the middle. Talking Head Number One, a man, appears on the left hand side of the screen while Talking Head Number Two, a woman, appears on the right.)

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: Hello, Kurt.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Pleasure to be here.

KURT MANLEY: Talking Heads, I have to say, this whole mess in that country the name of which no one can pronounce is really heating up. Do you think cooler heads will ever prevail?

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: I do not, Kurt. In fact, even though I literally know nothing about the topic whatsoever, I’m going to start speak louder and louder until finally I begin screaming at the top of my lungs while I flail my arms to and fro in the breeze like a madman because I have nothing useful to offer on this matter Kurt, but it is still very important that the people at home believe that I have a very strong opinion on this subject!

KURT MANLEY: I believe you do. What about you, Talking Head Number Two? Do you have a strong opinion on the war?

(Talking Head Number Two bangs her fist down on her desk.)

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Yes I do, Kurt! I have a very strong opinion on the war. In fact, my opinion is stronger and better than Talking Head Number Two’s opinion!

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: You take that back you incompetent hag!

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Never, you limp wristed sissy boy!”

KURT MANLEY: Oh, is this the part where you both get in a big fight and everyone at home gets mad because they can’t understand what either of you are saying while you’re talking over one another?

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: It sure is, Kurt. Even a brainless bimbo like Talking Head Number Two would realize that.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: You are a sad, pathetic little man, Talking Head Number One. I’d say I pity you, but I pity your wife more, as I have no doubt she hasn’t received a proper lay in years.
TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: Floozy!

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Butt face!

KURT MANLEY: Whoa, nelly! Break it up, you two. Now seriously, Talking Head Number One, what is your opinion on the war?”

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: I’m glad you asked, Kurt. I think America is the greatest nation in the world, a beacon of freedom that all people who yearn to be free can look to in times of crisis. President Stugotz must assemble a broad, international peacekeeping force to separate the rival factions until this situation simmers down.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Oh please, Talking Head Number One! Your proctologist just called and he said to pull your head out of your ass because that’s his job.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: Bite me, wench.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: I doubt there’s much to bite, loser.

KURT MANLEY: OK, you two. Talking Head Number Two, your opinion, please.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Thank you, Kurt. President Stugotz should steer way, way clear from this one. Like as far away from he can as possible. I mean, sure, it’s sad that way over on the far side of the world, in some shitty country whose name no one can pronounce, people are getting rocket propelled grenades up their butts and machetes slashing up against their taints but really, who are we to get involved in this? You really want to put the President in the position where he has to go up to some poor family and say, “I’m sorry, but your son just got shot because I sent him to fight a war in some Godforsaken hellhole? I think not.

KURT MANLEY: A fair point. Rebuttal, Talking Head Number One?

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: Wow. That was actually a great point. I mean, I hate to compliment Talking Head Number One, largely because she’s a dried up old cow with more spiderwebs in her vagina than a mummy’s tomb but I have to hand it to her on this one. She has convinced me. I no longer believe that President Stugotz should get American forces involved in this conflict.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Oh and what, Talking Head Number Two? You’d be happy to just sit back and let all of those little kids in that shitty country die? “Oh look at me! I’m Talking Head Number One and I’m just sitting around, pulling my puny little pud, while a bunch of kids are dying!”

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: But, you just said…

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: I know what I just said, you dumb horse’s ass! If I told you to jump off a bridge, would you do that too?

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: Why you no good, dirty rotten cu…

KURT MANLEY: Whoa! Alright, let’s cut these two off before we get fined. I mean, we don’t have many standards here at Network News One, but we do have some, and throwing out a “See You Next Tuesday” is not one of them.

(Kurt shuffles some papers.)

KURT MANLEY: Good morning, USA. If you’re just joining us, America’s Shitting Nightmare continues. People across the country and around the world are holding in their shits, or pooping into trash bags, or fertilizing their lawns. As for your favorite anchorman, aka yours truly, he prefers to drop his waste into neat, tidy little packages that he then mails to the anchormen of rival, lesser networks. Sadly, that’s the closest to greatness those dweebs will ever get.

(Kurt changes camera angles.)

KURT MANLEY: Meanwhile, the good people of Sitwell, Florida are not sitting well on the bowl, which means they aren’t shitting well either. We take you to one of our very own Hot Ass Blonde Chicks with Big Titties with a breaking development in the Toilet Killer saga. Hot Ass Chick with Blonde Titties, are you there?

(Natalie Brock appears on screen wearing her blonde wig and stuffed bra. She stands in front of the Network News One van.)

NATALIE BROCK: I’m here, Kurt. A shocking development in the case. Yesterday, there was a shake up in the investigative power structure. Mayor Beaumont Dufresne, the head honcho down here in Sitwell, took the steps necessary to put the Sitwell Police Department under the domain of Grover County Sheriff Buck Hammond. That leaves Police Chief Cole Walker out of a job and off of this investigation.

KURT MANLEY: I’m told that’s not all?

NATALIE BROCK: Far from it. President Stugotz has even gotten involved.

KURT MANLEY: Yes. In fact, the President was in Miami this morning, where he was giving a joint press conference with Florida Governor Brian Graysmith. This is, of course, the first time the Governor has addressed the press corps since his recent incident involving a ridiculous amount of hookers.

(Cut to a podium. GOVERNOR GRAYSMITH addresses the crowd of reporters while PRESIDENT STUGOTZ looks on.)

GOVERNOR GRAYSMITH: Thank you everyone. Thank you. I realize that everyone is very upset that the Toilet Killer remains on the loose, especially because that means that everyone is scared, well, shitless, no pun intended. I would like to thank President Stugotz for coming here to make sure that the investigation is running smoothly. We will now take your questions. However, I’d like to remind you all that we are here to talk about the Toilet Killer investigation and not about the ridiculous amount of hookers found in my hotel suite. OK. Who has a question? Yes, you Gary.

GARY NELSON, SUNSHINE STATE TRIBUNE: Yes, Governor, can you give us a ball park figure on how many hookers were in your hotel room?

GOVERNOR GRAYSMITH: What did I just say? Ix-nay on the pokers-hay, Ary-gay!

(Cut to KURT MANLEY in studio.)

KURT MANLEY: Later, President Stugotz gave a stirring address. Some are already likening it to Roosevelt’s “Day of Infamy” speech.

(Cut to PRESIDENT STUGOTZ at podium.)

PRESIDENT STUGOTZ: My fellow Americans, there was once a period in our nation’s great history when a man’s private time on the commode was sacred. It belonged to him and him alone. I can tell you, when I was a boy, everyone knew that when dear old Dad picked up a newspaper and walked into the bathroom, he was not to be disturbed, for he was a hard-working man and he had earned the right to evacuate his bowels in peace and comfort.

The sanctity of the bathroom extended to everyone. Mom, Grandma, Grandpa, sons, daughters. If you needed to shit, then that was your time to shit, and no one would bother. It did not matter if you were needed right away. The world was willing to wait until the very last pinch, the much needed wipe, and the ever so satisfying flush were complete.

Bathroom rights even carried over to the workplace. Whether you were just another fella on the assembly line, or the CEO of a major corporation, you could enter a bathroom and people knew well enough to leave you alone. There was never a problem that was so important that it couldn’t wait until you were off the pot.

Sadly, at some point, America lost its way. Cell phones, computers, tablets and technology began cutting into our bathroom time. People want to talk to you now…right now…and they don’t care if you’ve got a brown log trying to make its way out of your heiney hole. People watch movies and do work on their computers while they are shitting. The sanctity of the shit is no longer honored. It’s disgraceful, people. It really is. It’s disgraceful.

And I’m not just the one who is saying this, by the way. Believe me. A lot of people are saying this. Why, just the other a friend of mine came up to me and said, “President Vinny Stugotz, do you know what is a shame?” and I said, “No, what?” and my friend said, “That people can’t shit in peace and quiet anymore.” It’s a shame, folks. It really is. It’s a shame. A big time shame.

We’ve put up with a lot of interruptions to our shits over the years, but if you ask me, these toilet murders are the last straw. No one, and I mean no one, deserves to be gruesomely murdered to death while they are copping a squat. Life is too short and much too precious to end on the can with the stench of doody stink wafting up your nose. If it’s not in the Constitution that no one should be eviscerated while they’re trying to squeeze the cheese, then it should be. Really, it should be. Believe me. I just told my super hot wife, who by the way, is a lot hotter than all of your wives, that I’m going to write that into the Constitution with a magic marker. “Amendment Nine Hundred and Whatever – No one dies while squeezing the cheese.”

People, it is time for us as Americans to get back to our sacred shitting roots. Since the inception of our glorious union, great men have come and gone and do you know what they all had in common. Seriously, does anyone know? They all took shits. Each and every one of them.

Abraham Lincoln? He shit many times while he was preserving the union, of that fact, you can be assured. And George Washington? He took a shit just before a crossed the Delaware and he was not about to allow himself to remain in intestinal discomfort just to make those dirty British red coats happy.

General George S. Patton took cast iron shits. I don’t even know how he did it. The man was not just as tough as nails. No. He actually ate handfuls of nails and then shat them out into fully formed, cast iron bricks. The Nazis shit their pants when they saw Old Blood and Guts coming, let me tell you.

Yes, for as long as there has been an America, there have been people taking shits but today, the right to shit in a safe and comfortable environment has been threatened by a madman, a psychopath, a complete and total sad-sack loser face who, quite frankly, I would not be surprised to learn, voted for that raging bull dyke that I totally wiped the floor with during the presidential election. Nanny nanny boo boo.

My friends, fear not. To those who are at home, cowering in a cower, too scared to drop a nugget, I say to you that there is no reason to worry. Your President is on the job and I promise you that I will move Heaven and Earth and bring every last resource within the Federal government at my disposal to bear on finding, capturing, and bringing the Toilet Killer to justice. We will make it safe for you to go to the bathroom again, we will make it safe to fart again and yes, as God as my witness, we will make shitting great again!

(Cut to KURT MANLEY in studio, wearing a red “Make Shitting Great Again” hat with gold lettering.)

KURT MANLEY: FYI to our viewers at home, they can purchase a “Make Shitting Great Again” hat at President Stugotz’ campaign website store. It’s the perfect item to show your support for our Commander-in-Chief’s efforts to make shitting great again. I think mine’s quite fetching, don’t you, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties?

(Cut to NATALIE BROCK. She faces the camera. Suddenly, one of the melons drops out of her bra.)

KURT MANLEY: Um, I think you just lost one of your titties.

(NATALIE BROCK looks at camera with a “deer in the headlights” expression.)

NATALIE BROCK: Sorry, Kurt. That’s the last time I go to a bodega plastic surgeon for cheap implants, let me tell you.

KURT MANLEY: Oh, I always tell myself that but then I always end up going to a bodega plastic surgeon anyway. No one can beat their prices or sell me better jerky.

NATALIE BROCK: Right. Anyway Kurt, my sources indicate that President Stugotz personally intervened with the case, having Agent Sharon Walker pulled off the case so that Agent Gordon Bishop could be in charge.

KURT MANLEY: That makes perfect sense. The penis is the source of all logic and only someone with a penis could possibly solve this complex caper.

NATALIE BROCK: Well, here’s a major development. Agent Bishop’s command of the investigation did not last long as authorities say he died in some kind of bizarre sewer accident last night.

KURT MANLEY: My stars, this story is like a big bowl of milk and I’m a frisky kitty, just lapping it all up until my belly is full.

NATALIE BROCK: Sheriff Hammond told reporters, and I quote, “We don’t know what happened. He was probably blown up by sewer gas or some shit. We don’t know why he was in the sewer either so go away and stop bothering me.”

KURT MANLEY: Sounds like a real man of action. Keep up the good work, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. Oh and go fix your titty.

NATALIE BROCK: Will do, Kurt.

(KURT looks at a different camera).

KURT MANLEY: That’ll do it for this hour. Coming up next, is there a brand of fabric softener that can make your piss razer blades? And by that, I don’t mean it will give you a burning sensation but rather, actual little sharp pieces of steel will emanate from your urethra during the urination process. Better put a hold on that next load of laundry and we’ll tell you which brand do avoid after sports and weather but first, these commercial messages.

ANNOUNCER: The hottest blonde chicks! The biggest titties! Oh yeah, and occasionally, we report the news and shit!

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May 31 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 75

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“I’m telling you…it was an alligator.”

Hammond was furious, and chewed Rusty out royally as deputies and FBI agents scoured the scenes for clues and prepared what was left of Bishop’s torso for transport.

“An alligator?” Hammond asked. “You really expect me to believe that shit?”

“I didn’t believe it either,” Rusty said. “That college girl was telling Bishop and I that she saw a giant alligator the size of a dinosaur just before she passed out on the floor of the sorority house bathroom at Sitwell Community College. We laughed it off, but sure enough, an alligator that big just turned Bishop into a late night snack.”

“You must be out of your mind,” Hammond said.

Members of a heavily armed SWAT team began pouring out of the open manhole. “We searched a three mile radius in every direction,” Captain Russell said to Hammond. “No alligator.”

Hammond glared at Rusty. “See?”

Rusty pointed to Bishop’s torso. “See?”

“What?” Hammond asked. “That? Could have been anything. Sewer gas. Rats. Lot of dangerous shit in the sewer. That’s why people aren’t supposed to be running around underground all willy nilly. You two were morons for going down there.”

“I know what I saw,” Rusty said.

“You know what I think?” Hammond asked.

“I dunno,” Rusty said. “Do you think anything?”

Hammond poked Rusty in the shoulder. “Watch it, Yates. I’m your commanding officer.”

Rusty folded his arms and bit his tongue.

“I think Cole had a hard-on for the Mayor because the Mayor had long been a critic of Cole’s shoddy police work,” Hammond said.

“Cole is the best cop I know,” Rusty said.

“But he’s not a cop anymore,” Hammond said. “Because he carried out his vendetta against the Mayor by trying to frame his son, an innocent bystander in all of this.”

“You think Buford is innocent?” Rusty asked. “Look, I know it sounds bananas, but I heard him talking to that alligator. It’s like they were plotting and scheming together or something. I don’t know how, but Buford and the alligator are in cahoots.”

“‘Buford and the alligator are in cahoots,’” Hammond said. “Will you listen to yourself? Get a grip. Obviously, you’re still loyal to Cole and you’re trying to carry out his sad plot to frame Buford for the toilet murders, only you’re worse at this than Cole. Cole could have come up with a better story than ‘Buford and the alligator are in cahoots.’”

“They are,” Rusty said. “Tell me this, if Buford is innocent, what was he doing in the sewer?”

“I’m not aware Buford was in the sewer,” Hammond said. “I only have your word for that and your word, at this point, is dubious at best.”

“Holy shit, Hammond,” Rusty said. “What does the Mayor got on you? Photos of you in a compromising position with a donkey or something?”

Hammond’s face turned red as he screamed at Rusty. “How the hell did you…damn it! I was in college, it was an experimental time and I…”

Rusty appeared surprised.

“Damn it, Yates,” Hammond said. “You and Cole are like a couple of cat turds in my morning oatmeal.”

Rusty walked away. “To hell with this.”

“Where are you going?” Hammond asked.

“To arrest Buford,” Rusty said.

“On what charges?” Hammond asked.

“I don’t know,” Rusty said. “Conspiracy to commit an alligator related homicide!”

“Stand down, Yates,” Hammond said.

“No,” Rusty replied.

“Deputy Yates!” Hammond barked. “You will stay away from Buford Dufresne. That is a director order. Do you understand me?”

Rusty sighed and turned around. “Crystal sir.”

“You wanna know why I have my job and Cole doesn’t?” Hammond asked.

“Because you and the Mayor sixty-nine each other on a semi-regular basis?” Rusty asked.
Hammond chuckled. “Oh, no. You’re not going to get me this time. There’s know way you could possibly know about…”

Rusty looked at Hammond with disgust. “Wait, what?”

“Nothing!” Hammond said. “I play ball, son. I never swim against the big fish and Mayor Dufresne is the shark in this here pond, you understand? Now you get it through your skull that Buford Dufresne is off limits and you and I won’t have a problem.”

Rusty ripped the badge off his shirt and tossed it down at Hammond’s feet. “No problem at all, sir. I quit.”

Hammond picked up the badge and called after Rusty, who was now walking away. “Good! Spares me the trouble of having to fire your sorry ass!”

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May 29 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 71

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As the day waned into evening, Rusty and Bishop drove around town in search of Buford. They checked his known haunts, mostly his favorite convenience stores where he would often purchase all kinds of junk food. Finally, they spotted him walking out of a Gas n’Pass with two shopping bags full of potato chips.

Bishop pulled his unmarked car into the parking lot of a nearby Pizza Groove and turned around, allowing him to tail Buford’s pickup truck. He was sure to stay two cars behind and avoided making any suspicious moves.

“His mother, I get,” Rusty said. “I mean, not really. Hell I had a few lap dances from her down at Big Ray-Ray’s and she was always sweet enough to me.”

“You got a lap dance from that old woman?” Bishop asked.

“Booty is booty,” Rusty said. “Don’t judge, Jumbotron.”

“I’m not, Damien Lewis,” Bishop said.

“Who?” Rusty asked.

“You know,” Bishop said. “The actor.”

“He has red hair?” Rusty said.

“Yeah,” Bishop replied. “He’s in a lot of stuff. He was in that show, you know the one with the crazy eyed bitch who fights terrorism.”

“I’m drawing a blank,” Rusty said.

“You’d know him if you saw him,” Bishop said. “He’s in everything.”

“Joke doesn’t work if you have to explain it, King Kong,” Rusty said.

The duo sat in silence as the slow pursuit continued. Finally, they saw Buford pull into the parking lot of the No-Tell Motel. Not wanting to be spotted, Bishop pulled into a liquor store parking lot across the street. There they sat and watched as Buford hopped out of his truck and let himself into his room.

“Now what?” Rusty asked.

“We wait,” Bishop answered.

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May 29 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 70

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Britney sat back in her hospital bed, too nauseous to even look at the jello on her tray table. Rusty stood by while Bishop read from his notes.

“So you’re telling me you saw something that was green, at least fifteen feet long, four legs, must have weighed over eight hundred pounds, enormous teeth…”

“And it hissed at me,” Britney said.

“Ma’am,” Bishop said. “I don’t mean to sound rude but had you been drinking that night?”

“No,” Britney said.

“Drugs?” Bishop asked.

“No,” Britney said.

“A little coke, perhaps?” Bishop said. “A little marijuana?”

“No,” Britney said.

“It’s cool,” Bishop said. “I know what college is like.”

“I wasn’t on anything,” Britney said.

“Ma’am,” Bishop said. “I know you might think you have to say you weren’t because we’re law enforcement officers but honestly, I have no interest in busting you for a little bit of drug dabbling. I just need to know the truth.”

Britney grew frustrated. “That’s the truth!”

“That you saw an enormous alligator?” Bishop asked.

“Yes,” Britney said. “No. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Bishop asked.

“It looked like an alligator,” Britney said. “But it was so big. I’ve seen alligators at the zoo before but nothing this big. I don’t think they normally get that big do they?”

“I have no idea,” Bishop said.

“So all I’m saying is it must have been bigger than a regular alligator,” Britney said. “Like it must have been a dinosaur.”

Bishop scoffed. “A dinosaur?!”
Britney closed her eyes. “Whatever. You asked. I told you.”

Bishop nodded. “Have you told me everything?”

“Yes,” Britney said.

“Are you sure?” Bishop asked.

“Yes!” Britney said.

Bishop reviewed his notes. “You and the other kids were arguing while Chad Becker was defecating on the toilet. Next thing you know, wham, you’re on the ground and the last thing you see is some type of prehistoric alligator-like beast, possibly a dinosaur due to its abnormally large size.”

“You got it,” Britney said.

“Miss Chase,” Bishop said. “None of the other kids reported seeing this alleged creature.”

“I don’t know,” Britney said. “I just know what I saw.”

Bishop looked at his notebook. “Then again, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt in that you’re the only one whose head wasn’t pinned under the bathroom stall wall.”

“See?” Britney said. “There you go.”

Rusty looked at Bishop, presumably making a silent request to speak up. Bishop nodded in the affirmative.

“Britney,” Rusty said. “You mind if I call you, ‘Britney?’”

“I guess,” Britney said.

“What are you studying at Sitwell?” Rusty asked.

Bishop looked confused as well as curious as to where Rusty was going with this line of questioning.

“Nursing,” Britney said.

“You putting yourself through school?” Rusty asked.

“Yes,” Britney said.

“Job?” Rusty asked.

“I’m a cashier at Price Town,” Britney said.

“You like that kind of work?” Rusty asked.

“No,” Britney said.

“Why not?” Rusty asked.

“Little old ladies come up to me all the time to bitch me out over the price of everything,” Britney said. “They’re all like, ‘I could get this for half the price down the street’ and I feel like saying, ‘Well, why don’t you move your ass and go down there then, bitch?’”

Rusty smirked. “Family commitments?”

“I’ve got a little brother I have to babysit when he gets home from school,” Britney said. “Both my parents work.”

“So you don’t live on campus?” Rusty asked.

“No,” Britney said.

“That’s kinda sad,” Rusty said.

“It is?” Britney asked

“Yeah,” Rusty replied. “You’re missing out on the party scene.”

Britney shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been to a few parties. Every time I go thinking it’ll be fun. Every time I leave because it’s just a bunch of drunk losers grinding on each other and puking all over the place. That last one, that’s the last one I’ll ever go to. I’m done with college parties.”

Rusty turned to Bishop. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Bishop drummed his fingers across the armrest of the chair he was sitting in. He pondered his next move for a moment before asking a question. “Do you know of anyone with a reason to hurt Chad?”

“To hurt Chad?” Britney asked.

“Yeah,” Bishop asked. “Someone who hated him, despised him.”

Britney laughed. “How much time have you got?”

“The list is that big?” Bishop asked.

“He used women and threw them away like they were nothing,” Britney said. “Pretty much every woman on campus had a reason to hate him.”

“Yourself included?” Bishop asked.

Britney sighed. “I hated him for awhile but then I just started feeling sorry for him, like there must have been something broken inside of him that he could have that much sex with so many different women but still never feel satisfied, you know?”

“Tell me about it,” Rusty blurted out.

Seeing that no one found his joke funny, Rusty slinked back into the corner of the room.

“You kept hanging out with him after the break-up?” Bishop asked.

“Yeah,” Britney said. “I don’t know. That was stupid I guess. I was just hoping that maybe he’d change but deep down, I knew he never would.”

“Anyone else with a grudge against him?” Bishop asked.

“He was rude to practically everyone,” Britney said. “He’d walk down the halls and just shout out insults to people. If you were short, or fat, or ugly or whatever. He’d find something to make fun of.”

“Sounds like a dick,” Bishop said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Britney said.

Britney looked around the room and took a deep breath, apparently scared to mention something else. “He dealt drugs.”

Bishop lit up. “He did?”

“Marijuana,” Britney said. “Everybody on campus knew. He was the guy everyone went to.”

“He have any after him for that?” Bishop asked. “Disgruntled customer? Maybe a supplier he cheated?”

“I have no idea,” Britney said. “I never found out about that until after we broke up. I wouldn’t have dated him had I known. I never asked him about it after. I didn’t really want to know. I just know what I heard around campus.”

“Huh,” Bishop said as he stood up. “Alright then. Take care of yourself, Miss Chase. Hope you feel better.”

Rusty and Bishop exited the room and headed down the hallway.

“What do you think?” Rusty asked.

Bishop pinched his thumb and pointer finger together, then put them up against his mouth and made a sucking sound, as though he were enjoying an invisible doobie.

“You think she’s a druggie?” Rusty asked.
“Of course,” Bishop said. “Give me a break that she didn’t know her boyfriend was a dealer. She’s just trying to cover for herself.”

“I don’t know,” Rusty said. “She seemed pretty solid, a little more mature than the average college kid.”

“How so?” Bishop asked.

“She’s got a job that she hates but goes to anyway because she needs the money,” Rusty said.

“Welcome to adulthood,” Bishop said.

“Exactly,” Rusty replied.

The duo reached the elevator. Bishop pushed the call button. The doors opened and they headed for the ground floor.

“She lives at home and takes care of her brother,” Rusty said. “Probably has parents nagging on her. Probably doing her best to work hard and save up so she can get out on her own.”

“Not one of these kids whose content to sit on Mom and Dad’s couch until they’re forty-five,” Bishop said.

“Exactly,” Rusty said.

“So OK,” Bishop said. “Maybe she didn’t have a drug induced hallucination. Maybe she just hit her head really hard on the floor and it scrambled her brains.”

“You think?” Rusty said.

“Well,” Bishop said. “The only other option is that an actual dinosaur sized alligator jumped up though the toilet and ate Chad Becker. You think that really happened?”

Rusty and Chad stared at each other blankly for a few seconds, then burst out in laughter together.

“Aww shit,” Rusty said. “Toilet gator. That’s a good one.”

The duo reached the ground level. They stepped out of the elevator and walked through the lobby.

“So, what now?” Rusty asked.

“Buford Dufresne,” Bishop said.

“What about him?” Rusty asked.

“He’s our only real lead,” Bishop said. “It was odd that he was at his mother’s house in the middle of the night. Odd that he was screaming about how he tried to warn her about something. We never really got an answer to any of that.”

“That guy’s always been the town weirdo,” Rusty said. “Never really grew up because his rich Daddy always took care of him.”

“Sounds like a guy with a lot of time on his hands,” Bishop said.

“Time to plot something big?” Rusty asked.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Bishop said.

“Aww but,” Rusty said. “I can’t go anywhere near that kid. He’s the Mayor’s boy and Hammond is the Mayor’s bitch. Those two are tighter than a pair of skinny jeans.”

Rusty unlocked his cruiser and hopped into the driver’s seat. Bishop took the passenger’s side.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bishop said.

“I am worried about it,” Rusty said. “He already fired Cole. I don’t need to be sacked too.”

“I’m a federal investigator and I’ve commandeered your services,” Bishop said. “If Hammond gets up your ass, I’ll swat him down.”

“Huh,” Rusty said as he backed out of his parking space. “I like the sound of that. Where to?”

“Let’s look around town,” Bishop said. “See if we can’t find out what Buford is up to.”

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May 29 2017
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Toilet Gator, Uncategorized

Toilet Gator – Chapter 69

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“Why am I here?” Rusty asked as he walked with Bishop down a long hallway through Grover County Hospital.

“Britney Chase,” Bishop said. “She’s out of her coma and able to talk. We need a statement.”

“Didn’t all the other kids give us Jack Shit when they woke up?” Rusty asked.

“Yeah,” Bishop said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t take the statement anyway, Damian Lewis.”

“Shit,” Rusty said. “You’re still making redhead jokes?”

“For as long as you make jokes about me being big,” Bishop said.

The duo reached an elevator. Bishop pushed the call button. After a minute, the doors opened. The agent and the deputy stepped inside. Bishop pushed the button for the tenth floor.

“Like being big is something to even be embarrassed about, Sasquatch,” Rusty said. “I’d kill to have all your muscles.”

“You don’t need to kill anyone,” Bishop said. “Just get your ass to the gym.”

“Ugh,” Rusty replied. “The gym. Now that’s a whole thing. You need to work up the motivation to go there. Then you get there. Then you have to pay your fees. Then there’s always someone sitting on the equipment you want to use. And everything’s covered in a layer of sweat and the whole place smells like old socks. And don’t even get me started about the locker room.”

“What about the locker room?” Bishop asked.

“I said, ‘Don’t get me started,’ didn’t I?” Rusty asked. “Old man balls.”

“Old man balls?” Bishop asked.

“Wrinkly old man balls as far as the eye can see,” Rusty said. “Most dudes, you know, they try to be discrete. Slip off the pants real quick. Slip on the sweatpants just as quick but old men? No. They just lounge around the locker room like it’s some kind of Ancient Roman bathhouse with their geriatric cocks flapping in the breeze and you know none of those things have even been washed since Truman was President.”

Bishop stifled a grin.

“Oh, what was that?” Rusty asked. “Did I make a funny, big guy?”

“No,” Bishop said. “It’s just, now that you mention it, there are a lot of old men at my gym who do the same thing.”
“I’m telling you,” Rusty said. “People get to a certain age and they stop giving a shit about what people think of them.”

“I suppose that’s natural when your best years are behind you,” Bishop said.

“It’s like they say, “OK. I’m sixty,’” Rusty said. “This is my dick, world! Enjoy!’”

The elevator dinged. The duo stepped out onto the tenth floor and headed down another hallway.

“Still,” Bishop said. “You’re just making excuses to avoid exercise.”

“Not wanting to get slapped in the face with a wang that’s been in existence since biblical times is the best excuse I’ve got,” Rusty said.

Both men were quiet for awhile until Rusty chimed in again. “You misunderstood my question, before.”

“How’s that?” Bishop asked.

“When I asked why am I here, you told me the purpose of this visit to the hospital,” Rusty said. “What I wanted to know is why, specifically, am I here?”

“Oh,” Bishop said. “I don’t know the area well. I didn’t know Cole Walker well either, but Sharon vouched for him. You’re his friend. I assume he doesn’t keep untrustworthy people in confidence.”

“You assume right, G-man,” Rusty said. “Fine, let’s do this thing. I’ll be Starsky, you be Hutch.”

“How about we just do our jobs?” Bishop asked.

“Even better,” Rusty replied.

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May 29 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 68

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

“Got any threes?” Rusty asked.

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

“Burt!” Rusty said.

“Huh?” Burt asked.

“You got any threes?” Rusty asked.

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

“Something on your mind?” Rusty asked.

“Nah,” Burt said. “Well, maybe.”

“Out with it old man,” Rusty said.

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

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

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

“Maude?” Rusty asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Rusty looked disgusted. “Our Maude?”

“Yes,” Burt repeated.

“Old stank breath Maude?” Rusty asked.

“Exactly,” Burt said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Peyrone’s Disease,” Burt said.

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

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

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

“I don’t think so,” Burt said.

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

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

“Come again?” Rusty said.

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

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

“I shit you not,” Burt replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up,” Burt said.

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

“Enough,” Burt said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Rusty said. “Right.”

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

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

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

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May 28 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 67

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Adult Buford laid on the motel bed and put on his headset. He adjusted the attached microphone, raising it to his lips.

“Skippy,” Buford said. “You got your ears on? Over.”

Silence.

“Skipford J. Dufresne,” Buford said. “I know you can here me, over.”

More silence.

“Fine,” Buford said. “Then I’ll talk, Skippy, and you listen. Look, I get it. You had a good reason to hate Momma. She didn’t realize how kind and sweet and sensitive and intelligent you are. She thought you were just a dumb man eating animal, so she flushed you. And you ate her, so now you’re even. Do you really feel any better about it?”

Silence.

“I was angry about what happened to me on prom night for years,” Buford said. “I thought Sally would be my special lady, that we’d be together forever on account of how neither of us were much to look at, that she was just some kind of evil bitch for choosing Chad’s looks over my brains and I wanted to make everyone pay for hurting me, even Mr. Hogan. But you know how I’ve felt ever since you ate them?”

Silence.

“Worse than ever,” Buford said. “You know Skip, they say a man who goes in search of revenge should dig two graves because, you know, I don’t know, he’s going to get himself killed while he’s in the process of killing whoever done him wrong.”

Silence.

“This is just how life is,” Buford said. “People are mean. People are rude. People are shitty. People hurt each other. It took a gigantic prehistoric sized alligator devouring my enemies to make me realize that I’m not the only person in this world, that my feelings and emotions don’t matter more than anyone else’s.”

Silence for a moment and then….”Raarga.”

“What do you mean I sound like I should get a shrink?” Buford said. “Shit. Momma said that too.”

“Raarga.”

“Skip,” Buford said. “All I’m trying to say is that sometimes we see a bad side of a person and when that’s the only side we see, it’s easy to think there’s no good in that person but there is. There’s good in everyone. Even the worst, most awful people have some good parts about them.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“I thought Sally was a bad person for rejecting me for a man that made fun of her weight,” Skippy said. “But who knows? Maybe that fumble she had with Chad out in the football bleachers gave her the confidence she needed to lose weight and get eye surgery and finish her orthodontia treatments so she could become Countess Cucamonga, who brought joy to the world with her big butt songs.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“It was fake?” Buford said.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Huh,” Buford said. “She lost more weight than I thought then. But see what I mean? She was bad to me but she was good to the world. She donated to charity and visited sick kids in hospitals and made people happy so you know, she didn’t deserve to end up in your belly just because she hurt me.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“I know it was my bright idea,” Buford said. “No one’s blaming you.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“And Chad was a dick,” Buford said. “But then he ended up spending ten years on a two year degree than even I finished in a year and a half so honestly, now that I think about it, I feel sorry for the guy. Maybe he beat me up because he knew right then and there that he had peaked in high school and it was all downhill from there. He was just venting his frustration.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Yeah, I know,” Buford said. “Mr. Hogan should have helped me but he was getting old and close to retirement. After teaching kids for forty years, he just stopped caring. But is it right to judge him for the one kid he did not help when he helped so many over the years?”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Was it right to eat Momma when she was just worried that one day you’d eat me?” Skippy asked. “Or her shirtless wrassling customers?”

“Raarga, raarga,” Skippy said.

“Yeah,” Buford said. “I know they weren’t really there to wrassle. I put two and two together last year when I rented a film starring Julia Roberts as a prostitute with a heart of gold. But still, Momma let those men do unspeakable things to her so that I could have all the video games and potato chips I wanted and so I don’t think it was fair that you ate her, young man.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“So listen,” Buford said. “It’s time to stop.”

“Raarga?” Skippy said.

“That’s right,” Buford said. “Cold turkey. No more eating humans.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Hell yeah I understand it’s gonna be hard to get you on the wagon but I’ll be with you every step of the way, buddy,” Buford said.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

Buford sighed. “Skippy, do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“You brought the heat down on me,” Buford said. “Sally. Chad. Mr. Hogan. No one would have ever begun thinking about me until you went and ate Momma. By doing that, you got the coppers taking a look at me.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“I know no one told me to go to Momma’s house but I was trying to save her,” Buford said. “And those cops, they grilled me all night.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Snitches get stitches?” Buford said. “What a way to talk to your best friend.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Oh whatever,” Buford said. “If you can find anyone willing to befriend a gator the size of a truck then be my guest.”

“Raarga, raarga, raarga,” Skippy said.

“Skippy, here’s the thing,” Buford said. “Daddy got me off the hook. The cops have hit a wall. You relax, stop eating people, and this whole thing will just blow over. We’ll get away with it. Scot free.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“But if you keep eating people,” Buford said. “You’re eventually gonna slip up and lead the police back to us. You need to come to your senses, quit while we’re ahead, and get your ass back here and lie low with me in this sweet ass, slightly busted up motel room while we rent pay per view porno and charge it off on this credit card I stole from Daddy three months ago and he still hasn’t figured it out yet.”

Silence.

“Skippy,” Buford said. “You do realize that if you eat Daddy, that’ll be two victims with a clear, obvious connection to me, right?”

Silence.

“And then it’ll just be a matter of time before even a bunch of dumb cops start asking around and finds out about the prom incident, connecting me to the other victims?” Buford asked.

Silence.

“If you eat Daddy, then that’s it,” Buford said. “Game over. Prison for me and I dunno…alligator prison for you I suppose.

Silence.

Buford sighed and popped open a bag of potato chips. “Kids. They never listen.”

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May 28 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 66

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Buford picked himself up, limped to the men’s room, and locked himself in an extra roomy handicapped stall. There he stood with his head against the wall, dabbing the various parts of himself that were bleeding with a piece of wadded up toilet paper.

He turned and caught site of the toilet. “Awww, Skippy,” Buford said. “Been a long time, man.”

Buford paced back and forth. “I thought we were gonna keep in touch but then you never came back, boy. I’ve been waiting for so long that I guess I figured, I don’t know…maybe you found a new best friend.”

The young man dabbed some blood off of his cheek. “If you’re out there, Skip, I sure could use a friend right now.”

Buford stared at the toilet for a few minutes and then after realizing the futility of the exercise, he stepped out of the stall and ran the sink faucet.

“Stop being stupid,” Buford said to the reflection of himself in the mirror. “It’s been ten years. The idea that gator would come back now is….”

The sound of a rumbling toilet stopped Buford in his tracks. He stepped back, inching his way toward the door. “Skippy?”

The toilet exploded, sending porcelain shards. The stall walls collapsed and water chugged out of a busted pipe as a wondrous sight appeared before Buford’s eyes.

“Skippy!”

Skippy had grown to an enormous size and weight, practically a dinosaur.

Skippy emitted a fierce roar, then looked at Buford. The beast began to pant like a happy puppy as Buford wrapped his arms around his long lost reptile pile.

“Skippy!” Buford said as he planted kisses all over Skippy’s head. “Where have you been?”

“Raarga!” Skippy said.

“Mexico?” Buford asked.

“Raarga, raarga,” Skippy said.

“Panama?” Buford said.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“You’re a man of the world?”

Skippy nodded. “Raarga.”

“Oh Skippy,” Buford said. “I thought I’d lost you forever but now we can be best friends again!”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“You can just keep living in the sewer and come visit me,” Buford said.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“And I’ll make us a fancy way to talk to each other,” Buford said. “I’ve been getting really good with computers you know.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

A fist pounded on the bathroom door. “Buford!” Mr. Hogan shouted. “What are you doing in there?”

“Nothing, sir,” Buford said.

“You better not be masterbating in there,” Mr. Hogan said.

“I’m not sir,” Buford said. “I swear.”

“I got my eye on you, Buford,” Mr. Hogan said through the door. “There’s something about you that tells me you’re no good.”

“OK then sir,” Buford said before mumbling under his breath. “Crusty old bastard.”

Buford looked around the room, taking in the mess his companion had made.

“Damn, boy,” Buford said. “You better get outta here before someone sees you.”

Mr. Hogan knocked on the door again. “Buford!”

Buford looked to an open window. It was small, but he was sure he could squeeze through it.

“And I better get outta here before this gets blamed on me,” Buford said.

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May 28 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 65

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Ten years later, an eighteen year old Buford was attending the senior prom in the Sitwell High School gymnasium, clad in a hand me down baby blue tuxedo that had once belonged to his father. He was manning the punch bowl because he felt that gave him an actual, legitimate reason to be there.

“Date?” Buford said as he ladled some punch into a glass for Bernice Fuller. She wore a black dress and her hair had been died a fresh coat of pink. “Psssh. Please. I aint got no time for dates, what with me being here, performing a much needed community service by making sure no one here goes thirsty.”

Bernice smiled. “That’s mighty nice of you, Buford.”

“Don’t I know it,” Buford said. “Someone’s gotta set an example for our nation’s youth, what with the Paris Hiltons and Lindsey Lohans of the world getting themselves arrested and all.”

“OK then Buford,” Bernice said as she slinked away. “I have to go be…anywhere but here now.”

“Oh sure, sure,” Buford said. “That’s cool. Go gut a rug. Maybe later when I’m done serving all this punch we’ll boogie down to some T-Pain or some Maroon 5 or something.”

“What?” Bernice said as she tapped her ear. “Sorry! Can’t hear you! Music’s too loud.”

As the sounds of the late 2000s filled the gym, Buford look across the sea of dancing teens to find a young, overweight girl with glasses and braces sobbing alone, up high in the bleachers.

Buford spit into the palm of his hand, used it to wipe down a cow lick, then ladled out two glasses of punch. He took one more look at the young lady, then took a deep breath.

“Just what I need,” Buford said. “Someone as hard up as I am. Thank you, Jesus.”

Buford mustered up all of his courage, marched up the bleachers and handed the girl a cup. She looked up, confused.

“Sorry to bother you, Sally,” Buford said. “But as this social function’s duly designation punch monitor it came to my attention that all this crying you’re doing has most likely left you dehydrated and therefore it is my duty to help you replenish your fluids.”

Sally took the cup and sipped. “It’s good.”

“Made it myself,” Buford said as he took a seat next to Sally. “The key ingredient is extra fruit punch powder.”

Sally laughed and dried her eyes. “OK.”

“Sally,” Buford said. “Might I be so bold as to inquire why you’re up here, looking so forlorn while all the action is down there on the dance floor?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Sally said.

“Oh, you know,” Buford said. “I had many offers to dance but my duties as a punch monitor comes first.”

Sally giggled. Buford was confused by this because he was only being funny on an unintentional level.

“I was making out with Chad Becker…”

“Ugh,” Buford said. “That cro-magnon?”

“Whatever,” Sally said. “He’s Chad Becker. He’s Captain of the football team. He’s hot.”

Buford sighed. “I must admit that if I were the owner and proprietor of a vagina, the sight of him would probably make it tingle or…do whatever vaginas do. I don’t know. I’m not well versed in the gynecological sciences.”

“We were out on the football field,” Sally said. “Behind the bleachers there and we got to talking, sharing our dreams. He told me he wants to be an NFL football player.”

“He’ll be lucky if he gets accepted at Sitwell Community college,” Buford said.

“I told him about my dream to become a pop star,” Sally said.

“You sing?” Buford said. “I had no idea.”

“Mostly in the shower,” Sally said. “I never had the guts to go out for the school chorus or anything.”

“I bet you’re really good,” Buford said.

“I think so,” Sally said. “But Chad laughed at me and called me a whale and told me that no one with a butt as big as mine would ever be accepted as an internationally beloved singing sensation.”

Sally broke out into tears and buried her face into Buford’s shoulder. Buford took full advantage of the situation, rubbing his hand up and down Sally’s back and saying, “There, there” as he sniffed her perfume.

“I’m sorry,” Sally said. “I don’t mean to put all my problems on you.”

“That’s ok,” Buford said, enjoying the first snuggle of his entire lifetime. “Put them all on me.”

“It’s just that,” Sally said. “I’m worried because he’s probably right. I mean, look at me. I’m fat and I have glasses and braces. The world would never love me. I don’t even think any man could ever love me.”

Buford felt his body getting all warm and fuzzy. He pulled out his collar for some air. “Oh, I don’t know about all that. I bet there’s a man out there for you.”

“You think so?” Sally asked.

“I know so,” Buford said. “Maybe closer than you think.”

Sally took the hint. The youngsters pursed their lips and were about to press them together when Buford found himself being unceremoniously cock-blocked by a young, more studly than ever Chad Becker.

“Turdford!” Chad said, using the nickname that he’d saddled Buford with years earlier. “What the hell, bro? You’re reeling in Sally the Whale? Avast, matey! Thar she blows!”

Throughout his entire existence in the Sitwell public school system, Buford had taken Chad’s abuse without offering the slightest amount of a struggle. However, something about this situation was different. Sally’s honor had been slighted, and the young nerd did not care for it one bit.

“Take that back,” Buford said.

Chad began making garbled up whale calls. “What you gonna do, Turdford? Take your date out for a night on the ocean and a side of krill?”

Sally cried. Buford balled up his fist and seethed with rage as Chad dumped the contents of a little nip bottle into a glass of punch.

“Did you just perform an unapproved punch spike?” Buford asked.

“Sure did, whale lover,” Chad said. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Buford took a swing, one that Chad easily sidestepped. This caused Buford to lose his balance and he tumbled down the bleachers, rolling down the steps over and over again until he landed on the gym floor.

The music stopped. All the kids watched as Sally ran down the steps to check on Buford.

“Are you okay?” Sally asked.

“Yeah,” Buford said as he rubbed his aching head. “I think so.”

Chad passed his drink to Sally. “Hold this.”

The football star proceeded to grab Buford by the underpants, which he then pulled and pulled and pulled until the elastic waistband snapped. Kids, teachers, everyone laughed.

A much younger Mr. Hogan walked over. “Break it up, break it up!”

“Mr. Hogan!” Buford said. “Thank God, you’re here.”

Mr. Hogan adjusted his glasses and looked down at Buford. “Oh it’s you.”

“What?” Buford asked.

“You always were a creepy little shit,” Mr. Hogan said. He looked to Chad. “As you were.”

Mr. Hogan walked away as Chad kicked Buford in the gut repeatedly.

“Think you can stand up to me nerd?” Chad asked as he continued his Rockette impression.

“Chad!” Sally said as she grabbed Chad’s arm. “That’s enough.”

Chad stopped kicking Buford. He took his drink back and guzzled it, then threw the empty cup at Buford’s head.

“You wanna get outta here?” Chad asked.

Sally looked around. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Chad said. “Unless there’s someone standing behind you, which is possible, because you know, you’re super fat.”

“But you called me a whale,” Sally said.

“Yeah,” Chad said. “But then I got to thinking, I’ve banged every girl in the senior class but you so I might as well complete the whole set, you know?”

Sally took Chad’s hand.

Ever so weakly, Buford held up his hand. “Sally…”

“I’m sorry, Buford,” Sally said as she walked away with the football star. “But he’s Chad Becker!”

“Aw yeah,” Chad said. “I’m Chad Becker, baby!” I’m gonna be awesome forever!”

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May 27 2017
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Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 59

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A gaggle of Cole’s former police officers, now Grover County Sheriff’s deputies, buzzed around the room that had once served as Cole’s office, packing up and moving out their ex-boss’s belongings. Three deputies carried out the stuffed heads of Cole’s tiger, bear, and wild boar.

Cole stepped out into the main floor, carrying an open cardboard box filled with his possessions. As he did, the officers clapped until Sheriff Hammond whistled loudly.

“That’s enough of that,” Hammond said. “I don’t care what you all did before but there will be no applause for losers on my watch.”

Cole glared at Hammond. “You don’t think the Mayor will turn on you one day?”

Hammond chewed on a piece of gum. “The Mayor plays ball. I play ball. That was always your problem, Cole. You never knew when to sit down and shut up.”

Cole did not feel like prolonging the pissing match. He walked on, only to soon find that Maude was following him, gas tank in hand.

“What are you doing?” Cole asked.

“I only work for the Sitwell Police Chief,” Maude said. “If he’s not here anymore, then it’s time for me to retire.”

“Noble,” Cole said. “But stupid. I can’t let you do this.”

“You’re not letting me do anything,” Maude said. “You think you can stop me?”

The old lady turned around and faced the room full of officers. “This is bullshit! This has nothing to do with the investigation. This is all about sandbagging Cole because that Mayor can’t stop himself from getting behind the wheel while he’s snookered!”

“That’s enough lip outta you,” Hammond said.

“Aww, go sixty-nine the Mayor, flatfoot,” Maude said. “And the rest of you. Are you all going to take this lying down?”

Rusty, who had been standing in a back corner, gulped and stepped forward, joining Cole and Maude.

“This isn’t right,” Rusty said.

“Deputy Yates!” Hammond shouted.

“Cole,” Rusty said. “You say the word and I’ll walk out this door with you.”

Cole stood there silently and said nothing.
“Oh thank God,” Rusty said. “I mean I don’t want you to go but shit, I got overdue bills up my ass, I’m nowhere near retirement age, I’d be throwing away years of contributing to the pension fund.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cole said.

“I won’t,” Rusty said. “Thanks Cole.”

“Pussy,” Maude said.

“Shut up, Maude,” Rusty said.

“Know your place, Deputy Yates,” Hammond said.

“Yessir,” Rusty said as he fell back.

As Cole and Maude reached the parking lot, they found Sharon and Gordon saying their goodbyes.

“It’s not a problem,” Maude said. “You deserve to run lead on this.”

“This isn’t how I wanted it to go down,” Gordon said.

“I know,” Sharon replied. “Buck up. Finish this and before you know it, we’ll be back together in Miami in no time.”

Sharon and Gordon embraced. Cole winced.

“He’s definitely plowing her,” Maude said.

“Thanks Maude,” Cole said.

“Sorry,” Maude replied.

Sharon noticed Cole and smiled at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry about all this. Looking back, maybe it wasn’t right for me to take on an investigation involving your town. I should have recused myself.”

“No,” Cole said. “It has nothing to do with you. The Mayor’s punishing me because I stood up to him and he’s punishing you to get to me.”

Sharon sighed. “America loves to put assholes into office.”

“That it does,” Cole said.

The exes stared at each other for awhile before Cole stepped away. “Goodbye then.”

“Cole?” Sharon said.

Cole stopped in his tracks. “Yeah?”

“What are you going to do with the rest of your day?” Sharon asked.

“The gun range crossed my mind,” Cole said.

“Want to give me a ride down to Miami?” Sharon asked. “Gordon drove me up here.”

Cole felt this was a ridiculously bad idea but he could not help himself from saying, “Sure.”

“I’ll get my stuff and be back and five,” Sharon said as she walked away.

Maude shook her head.

“What?” Cole asked.

“Pussy,” Maude said.

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