Tag Archives: writing

Toilet Gator – Chapter 58


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A toilet gator,” Professor Lambert said.

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

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

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

Professor Lambert maintained a straight face.

“You’re serious?” Natalie asked.

“Indeed,” Professor Lambert said.

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

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

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

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

“Naturally,” Natalie said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Walter asked.

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

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 57


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

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

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

“Something wrong?” Walter asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Natalie said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Natalie, my dear,” Kurt said.

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

Walter shook his head.

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

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

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

“Going forward?” Natalie asked.

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

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

“Kurt, are you alright?” Natalie asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t stop!” Kurt shouted.

“What?” Natalie asked.

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

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

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

Natalie was not amused. “What the?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Walt pulled out his cell phone.

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

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

“Something wrong?” Natalie asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come again?” Natalie asked.

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

“Little Kurty?” Natalie asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Natalie looked puzzled but nodded in the affirmative.

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

“This is…wow…just…wow…”

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

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

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

“I’m hanging up now,” Natalie said.

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

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

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

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

“I see,” Natalie said.

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

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

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

“Ugh,” Natalie said. “Goodbye Kurt.”

“Adios, sexy mamacita,” Kurt replied.

Walter stopped the recording on his phone.

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

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

“Until now? Natalie asked.

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

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

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People Want to Know My Secret!

People always ask me:

“Bookshelf Q. Battler – how did you become the best blogger of all time?  I too want to have 3.5 readers.”

Well, you’re in luck.  I wrote up a handy guide to blogging greatness and you can find it here.

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 54


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

“The dude was naked?” Rusty asked.

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

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

“Yup,” Cole said.

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

“Yup,” Cole replied.

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

“Affirmative,” Cole said.

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

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

“And she got it for him,” Rusty said.

“What?” Cole asked.

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

“Smitten?” Cole asked.

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

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

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

“Don’t say it,” Cole said.

“…fucking,” Rusty said.

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

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

“Stop,” Cole said.

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

“It was massive,” Cole said.

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

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

“Damn right,” Rusty said.

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

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

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

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

“Nothing,” Cole said.

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

“Shut up,” Cole said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Last time I checked,” Maude said.

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

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

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

“What?” Rusty asked.

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

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

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

“Sorry,” Rusty said.

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

“Goddamn,” Rusty said.

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

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

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

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

“Understood,” Rusty said.

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

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

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

Rusty chuckled.

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

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

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

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

“Ugh,” Maude said.

“What?” Cole asked.

“Nothing,” Maude said.

“No, what?” Cole asked.

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

“That’s what I said,” Rusty said.

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

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

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

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

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

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 53


While Paul stewed in silence, Sharon was once again sitting in Cole’s office, behind his desk. Gordon stood off to the right, while Buford was seated across the desk.

“Mr. Dufresne,” Sharon said. “My name is Agent Sharon Walker. This is my partner, Gordon Bishop. We’re with the FBI, investigating a high profile case in the area. Perhaps you’ve heard of it as the media has dubbed the perpetrator as, ‘The Toilet Killer.’”

“Helluva thing those toilet killings,” Buford said. “No one should ever have to go while they’re going, if you ask me. You think the Toilet Killer got my Momma?”

“It looks that way,” Sharon said. “And though I’m sure it doesn’t offer you much consolation, I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Buford said. “Momma was a real ornery spitfire, but a sweet old gal. Hell, she kept her prices low just to keep all the local perverts happy.”

Sharon made an odd face. It was a half-smile, half-grimace. She had no clue how to respond to Buford’s statement, so she moved on.

“Mr. Dufresne,” Sharon said. “Chief Walker has reported to me that when you arrived at your mother’s trailer, you shouted, and I quote, ‘I tried to warn her!’”

“I don’t remember that,” Buford said.

“What were you trying to warn your mother about?” Sharon asked.

“Again,” Buford said. “I don’t remember saying anything like that.”

“Chief Walker stated to me that when he pressed you on this, you said that you had tried to warn your mother about smoking while the pilot light of her stove was on,” Sharon said.

“That’s right,” Buford said.

“So you don’t remember saying you tried to warn her?” Sharon asked.

“Right,” Buford said.

“But you do remember saying that you tried to warn her about smoking?” Sharon asked.

Buford’s face turned red. “Oh Gee Whiz, now you’ve gone and messed with my brain, ma’am.”

“Mr. Dufresne,” Sharon said. “I suppose what I’m trying to get at here is the issue of whether or not you were trying to warn your mother about something more disturbing than a cigarette…”

“What?” Buford asked. “Like one of those computerized vape-o-majigs? Momma didn’t like those, no ma’am. She tried one once and said it felt like she was giving a blowjob to the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz.”

Sharon smiled. “Your mother sounds like she was a real character.”

“Oh yes, ma’am,” Buford said.

“Were you two close?” Sharon asked.

“Sure,” Buford said.

“Did you approve of your mother’s profession?” Sharon asked.

“You mean stripping and prostituting?” Buford asked. “Wouldn’t say I’d go around bragging about how proud I was of Momma for doing that but hell, it paid the bills and it’s not like she had any kind of an education or skills to fall back on.”

“So the idea of your mother and all those men…”

Gordon cut his partner off. He stepped forward and towered over Buford. “If losers were fucking the woman that gave birth to me for pennies on the dollar, I know it would piss me off.”

“She may have had discount rates but I wouldn’t call it, ‘pennies,’” Buford said.

“Not the point,” Gordon said. “The point is that it must have made you mad, the idea of all those dirty, disgusting men, flopping around like a bunch of diseased, out of water flounders on top of your mother.”

Buford’s upper lip trembled. He gritted his teeth. He began to sweat. He took a deep breath and then calmly answered. “No sir. That was between them and Momma. I could care less.”

Sharon shuffled through a file folder. “Mr. Dufresne, when you arrived on the scene…”

“Ma’am,” Buford said. “You wouldn’t happen to be thinking something crazy like, oh, I dunno, that an angel like little old me had something to do with my own mother’s death, would you?”

“I didn’t say that,” Sharon said.

“Y’all seem to be implyin’ it,” Buford said. “I’m in mourning, here.”

“I know,” Sharon said.

“I have lost my dear sweat Momma,” Buford said. “That woman was my rock, my best friend, my whole reason for being.”

“Your whole reason for being?” Sharon asked.

“Shit,” Gordon said. “My condolences.”

“I’m sorry,” Buford said as he stood up. “I can’t think straight what with my Momma gone. I need to go home and lie down.”

Gordon stared Buford down, silently indicating the fact that leaving wasn’t a valid option.

“Y’all can’t keep me here,” Buford said. “I know my rights!”

“Mr. Dufresne,” Sharon said. “No one has accused you of anything.”

“I have a right to a phone call,” Buford said.

“This is all very unnecessary,” Sharon said. “We’re just trying to establish some facts that will help us find your mother’s killer.”

“I want my phone call,” Buford said. “I want to call my Daddy!”

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 52


Cole sat behind an empty desk on the main floor of the Sitwell Police Department. Rusty stood nearby, while Paul sat in a chair across from Cole. The cops had found an oversized pair of sweatpants and a Sitwell PD sweatshirt for the boy to wear in lieu of his wet clothes. However, the sweats were so big and the boy so small that Paul was swimming in them.

“Wrong place at the wrong time,” Cole said.

“Twice,” Rusty added.

“That’s the story you’re going with?” Cole asked.

“Story?” Paul asked.

Cole clicked the button on his pen and jotted a few notes down on a yellow legal pad. “For the official report. Gotta be thorough.”

“You said you were in the vicinity of the bathroom where Chad Becker was murdered?” Cole asked.

Paul sipped a complimentary soda pop Rusty had brought him in a prior attempt to feign good cop. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“You did,” Cole said. “Best not to change your story now.”

“Again with that word,” Paul said. “‘Story.’”

“Again,” Cole replied as he scribbled down some more notes. “For the official report.”

“I’m the frat’s Beermeister,” Paul said. “That’s the guy in charge of…”

Cole held up his right hand to form a “stop” motion. “I know what a Beermeister is. I went to Sitwell Community College.”

“OK,” Paul continued. “So, Chad got wasted. I helped Britney get him to a bathroom because he was puking and shitting all over the place. The sorority house was the closest place with an unoccupied bathroom. Britney and I got Chad there, got him on the bowl and I stepped outside. Then I heard a godawful noise…”

“What kind of noise?” Cole asked.

“A roar,” Paul said.

“A roar?” Cole asked.

“Like a lion,” Paul said. “I heard it at the trailer tonight too.”
Cole clicked the button on his pen a few times. “You on drugs, Paul?”

“No,” Paul said. “I never touch the stuff sir.”

Cole reviewed his notes. “What were you doing at Roxy’s place?”

“I consider myself to be a good citizen,” Paul said. “I like to help out senior citizens and need, so I was helping her redecorate and…”

“Cut the crap!” Rusty shouted.

“Fine!” Paul said. “I met her at Big Ray-Ray’s and she offered to rock my world for twenty bucks. It seemed like a great deal while I was buzzed but as I sobered up I began questioning my decision and was about to leave when…well, whatever happened, happened.”

Cole twirled his pen between two fingers. “I dunno. Just seems odd.”

“What does?” Paul said.

“That you were on the scene at two of the murders,” Cole said. “You ever been to Miami?”

“Once,” Paul said.

“To a Countess Cucamonga concert, perhaps?” Cole asked.

“No,” Paul said. “I prefer the musical stylings of Stank Daddy.”

“Boca Raton?” Cole asked.

“Good God, no,” Paul answered. “They don’t even let you in Boca Raton unless you’ve got an AARP card.”

Paul looked out the window. It was dawn and the sun was rising. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“Just a few more questions,” Cole said.

“I didn’t do it,” Paul blurted out.

“No one said you did,” Cole said.

“You all seem to think I did it,” Paul said.

“What makes you think that?” Cole said.

“Because you’re asking me questions as if I did it,” Paul said. “Plus that redheaded cop is giving me the crazy eyes.”

“Maybe my eyes aren’t crazy,” Rusty said. “Maybe my eyes are normal and you’re the one with the crazy eyes. Ever think of that, hotshot?”

“Can’t say that I have, Rupert Grint,” Paul replied.

Cole flipped through the pages of his legal pad. “So, answer me this, if you were…”

“I’m done,” Paul said.

“With what?” Cole asked.

“This,” Paul said. “All of this.”

“We’re just asking questions to a witness,” Cole said.

“Don’t you want to help catch the guy that killed your friend and your hooker?” Rusty asked.

“Sure,” Paul said. “But I’m not about to get a bunch of bogus charges pinned on me because you pigs are too lazy to get off your asses and find the killer.”

“Pigs?” Rusty said.

“If the oink fits,” Paul said.

“Paul,” Cole said. “You’re overreacting. Everything’s fine.”

“This isn’t fine,” Paul said. “All cops are corrupt. I know how you all operate. I streamed Serpico.”

“Just a few more questions,” Cole said.

“Nope,” Paul said. “Not another word without my lawyer.”

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Toilet Gator Feedback


Hey 3.5 readers.

Stats indicate a lot of you have been checking out the most recent Toilet Gator chapters lately.  Cool.  If you have five minutes, I hope you’ll drop me a comment and tell me what you like and don’t like about it.  I’d love to hear the criticism, positive or negative.

Also, if you’d like to read it from the beginning, you can check it out over on Wattpad.  

If you’re not a Wattpadder, no worries.  You can still read it on this fine site.  You’ll just have to click where it says “Toilet Gator” in the left hand corner of this post (by the title) and then do a lot of scrolling to the beginning.

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 51


Cole stood outside Sharon and Gordon’s hotel room at the Trembley Suites and put his hear up against the door. For a few minutes, he heard nothing until finally…


“Shit,” Cole mumbled.


Cole backed away from the door. The sounds from inside the room intensified. “UGGGHHH!”

“Should’ve known it,” Cole said. “Like a couple of wild baboons.”

Cole walked down an aisle, feeling sorry for himself until much to his surprise, Sharon rounded a corner carrying a bottle of wine in an ice bucket. Her hair was wet and Cole stared as beads of water trickled down her neck into her bosom. It had been a long time since Cole had seen his lady love wearing nothing but a bathrobe and slippers.

“Cole?” Sharon asked.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “Hi.”

“Something wrong?” Cole said.

“There’s been another murder,” Cole said.

Sharon’s eyes widened. “Holy shit! The Toilet Killer struck again?”

“Yeah,” Cole said as he pointed at the room. “Hey, if you’re out here then what was…”

Sharon ignored the question and hustled towards her room. “Come on.”

“Can’t I just tell you out here?” Cole asked.

“Don’t be silly,” Sharon said. “Gordon will want to know too.”

Sharon popped a key card into the handle reader and the door unlocked. Cole followed Sharon into the room, nervous as to what he might find.

Sure enough, Cole quickly discovered he had good reason to be fearful. There on the ground was the most muscular, ripped, cut man but he had ever seen, pumping up and down.


“Gordo!” Sharon said. “Stop doing pushups. Cole has news.”

Gordon sprang to his feet, He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and patted himself down, wiping off his sweaty body. The giant looked at Cole. “Go on.”

It wasn’t that Cole wanted to stare at the massive python dangling between Gordon’s legs, but he couldn’t help it. A) it was like staring at a freak traffic accident and B) Cole became instantly riddled with sadness that it was much, much, much bigger than his or any other average human male’s.

“Could you?” Cole asked.

“What?” Gordon asked as he wiped the sweat from his big bald head. The other one. The one he thought with.

Cole pointed a finger downward.

“Oh,” Gordon said as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “What, you never saw one before?”

Cole cleared his throat. “I try not to make a habit of it.”

“Cole,” Sharon said. “What’s going on?”

Cole tried to blurt out some words but he was taken aback by Gordon’s amazing physique. The man was sporting perfect six-pack abs and a firm set of pecs.

“Jesus,” Cole said.

“Cole?” Sharon asked. “What happened?”

Cole snapped out of it. “Oh…right. Another murder. Roxy. An old stripper. Her real name’s Adelaide Hotchkiss.”

“A stripper?” Sharon asked.

“A stripper,” Gordon said. “An old teacher, a college student, a superstar. There’s no rhyme or reason to this killer’s pattern.”

“We’ve got two suspects at the station,” Cole said. “One’s some kid that was stuck in the trailer. You should have seen it the whole thing was knocked over but anyway…long story. He was babbling on and on about he he had also been on the scene of the Becker murder.”

“Holy shit,” Sharon said.

“Maybe some psycho that likes to stick around too long, admiring his handiwork,” Gordon said.

“Maybe,” Cole replied as he kept his eyes on Sharon, avoiding Gordon’s chiseled frame altogether. “But we also have Roxy’s son at the station. He showed up at his mother’s trailer, saying something about how he ‘tried to warn her.’”
“Warn her about what?” Sharon asked.

“He wouldn’t budge on that,” Cole said. “Thing is though, neither one of them knows they’re suspects yet. We’ve brought them both in on the idea that we’re just really concerned about their well-being but as soon as they wise up, the clock will start ticking on how long we’ll be able to hold them.”

“We’d better hustle,” Sharon said.

“Oh,” Cole said. “And about the victim’s son. He’s Buford Dufresne. The Mayor’s boy.”

“Damn it,” Sharon said. “Now that really complicates things.”

“You know it,” Cole said. “As soon as that horse’s ass catches wind we’ve got his boy…”

“He’ll waltz into the station with every crooked lawyer his used car money can buy,” Sharon said.

“Bingo,” Cole said.

Sharon set her bucket of ice and wine bottle down on a coffee table. “This will have to wait.”

She turned to Gordon. “Put on some pants, studmuffin. We’ve got worked to do.”

Sharon turned to Cole. “Thank you for coming all this way to tell us, Cole. You could have just called.”

“Yeah,” Cole said as he walked toward the door. “Well, you know me.”

“I do,” Sharon said.

Cole walked outside and headed for his cruiser. “Studmuffin? What the…”

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 50

Captain Roundtree counted down while his men pointed a firehose at Paul.


Paul was instantly knocked down by the sheer force of the water blast. The men continued to spray the nerd on the ground until his body was no longer covered with the late Roxy’s blood and fecal matter.

“Not again,” Paul mumbled. “Not…not again…not…not again.”

“What’s he saying?” Rusty asked.

Cole helped the kid up to his feet. Paul wrapped his arms around Cole and held on tightly. “This can’t be happening again!”

The chief pushed the young man back and grabbed him by the arms. “What can’t be happening again, son?”

“This!” Paul said. “All of this! This can’t be happening to me again!”

“What’s happening to you?” Cole asked.

“I was outside the bathroom,” Paul said. “Where Chad was…I don’t know…I heard a roar…and I was here and I heard a roar…it’s all happening again!”

Cole and Rusty traded confused looks.

“You were a witness to Chad Becker’s murder?” Cole asked.

“Not directly,” Paul said. “I only looked into the bathroom after it all happened.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Cole asked.

“I didn’t want to get in any trouble!” Paul said.

A few of Sitwell’s finest milled around, securing the perimeter with yellow caution tape. Burt walked over and threw a blanket around Paul.

“Burt,” Cole said. “Can you take this kid back to the station?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Burt said.

Rusty and Cole followed as Burt guided the youngster into the back of a police cruiser. Once the door was slammed shut, Cole had another request for Burt. “Whatever you do, don’t let him leave.”

“This guy’s that important?” Burt asked. “Looks like a creepy little pervert to me.”

“Just call it a hunch,” Cole said.

Burt shrugged his shoulders. “You’re the boss.”

As Burt pulled away, Cole and Rusty held a meeting of the minds.

“That kid was at both murder scenes,” Rusty said. “You don’t think?”

“I do think,” Cole said.

“Maybe he was just really unlucky,” Rusty said.

“No one’s that unlucky,” Cole said. “Except for me.”

A pickup truck pulled up to the scene. Buford jumped out of the driver’s seat, took one look at the trailer and dropped to his knees. He screamed his balled his eyes out. “Momma! Noooo!”

Buford stood up and ran for the trailer. Cole and Rusty grabbed him, one man on each arm, holding him back.

“There’s no way for you to get in there,” Cole said.

“And you don’t want to see what’s in there,” Rusty added.

“I tried to warn her!” Buford cried. “Momma! Why didn’t you listen to me?! Why?”

“Come again?” Cole asked.

Rusty sniffed and took a deep breath. Seeing that he’d calmed down, the officers let Buford go.

“I tried to warn…” Buford said.

“About?” Cole asked.

Buford came to his senses and dried his eyes with a dirty, booger infested napkin he pulled out of his pocket.

“About smoking,” Buford said. “I told her, ‘Momma, one of these days you’re gonna fall asleep with a cigarette in your mouth and the pilot light on your stove on and blow yourself to Kingdom Come!”

“That’s not what happened,” Cole said.

Buford sniffed. “It isn’t?”

“No,” Cole said.

Rusty rested his hands on his hips. “You always visit your Momma this late, Buford?”

“Maybe,” Buford said. “What, there a law against a being a good son?”

Cole and Rusty traded yet another series of quizzical glances.

“Calm on, fella,” Rusty said as he put his arm around Buford. “Let’s get you back to the police station. Get you a nice cup of coffee.”

“I can drive,” Buford said.

Rusty started walking toward his police cruiser, coaxing Buford to come with him. Cole followed.

“In your condition?” Rusty asked. “Now what kind of an officer of the law would I be if I were to allow that?”

“I don’t really want to go to the police station,” Buford said.

“I know,” Rusty said as he opened the back door to his cruiser. “We hate to put you through this what with you just losing your Momma and all but you know how it is when someone passes on. There’s all sorts of paperwork involved.”

“Paperwork?” Buford asked as he sat down in the back of the cruiser.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Rusty said. “We’ll walk you through it. Easy peasy.

Rusty slammed the car door and pulled Cole aside.

“Holy shit on a monkey stick!” Rusty exclaimed.

“I know,” Cole said. “Two suspects at once.”

“We’re on our way to becoming superstars!” Rusty said. “Gonna have our photos in the paper and everything.”

“You really need to get your priorities straight,” Cole said.

“And you need to get your ass on over to Sharon’s hotel and tell her the good news,” Rusty said.

“What?” Cole asked. “That’s stupid. I’ll just call her.”

“Cole,” Rusty said. “Don’t you want to know if that giant is railing your ex-wife’s vagina?”

Cole looked away. “Please. I’m over it.”

“The vagina that you once thought would never be touched by a penis other than yours?” Rusty asked.

“Stop being stupid,” Cole said. “This case is too important…”

“You’ll never have another opportunity like this again,” Rusty said. “Go on over to her hotel. Put your ear up to the door. If they’re fornicating like a couple of wild baboons in heat in there then you know there’s no hope of you two ever getting back together but if they aren’t…”

“Rusty,” Cole said. “I do not want to get back together with her.”

“Nor should you after what she did to you,” Rusty said. “And I will call you a pussy forever if you do get back together with her but damn it, I can see the way you look at her. It’s the way a fat man looks at a hot fudge sundae. The heart wants what it wants. There’s no logic to it.”

Cole sighed. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to tell her about all this in person.”

“There you go,” Rusty said.

Rusty got into the driver’s seat. Cole started to walk away, then turned around, walked back and tapped on Rusty’s window.

“What?” Rusty asked as he rolled his window down.

“What if they ARE fornicating like a couple of wild baboons in heat?” Cole asked.

Rusty flipped on his flashing lights and siren. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 49

Like a juicy worm on a hook, Rusty dangled from a line that had been passed through the metal hole in the top of the flipped over trailer. The redhead had been outfitted with a harness that was secured tightly around his crotch and waist and wore a miner’s helmet complete with a bright, shining flashlight secured to it.

“Hold me tight, boys,” Rusty shouted up to Cole and the firemen, who were busy holding the line. “I don’t want to fall into any of this…”

Rusty studied the surroundings. The chairs, the couch, all the furniture, all of Roxy’s belongings were scattered all over. It was as if some dark force grabbed hold of the giant tin can and given it a great big shake. Worse, the walls were soaked with blood and…

“Shit,” Rusty said as he turned to Paul. “Hey kid, when this all happened, was Roxy on the pot?”

“Huh?” Paul asked.

“Son,” Rusty said. “I know you’ve had one helluva night but I’m hanging in mid-air from a rig that’s given me a weapons grade wedgie so pay attention. Was Roxy taking a shit?”

“Yeah,” Paul said. The young man was in such a state of confusion that he was having a hard time figuring out what was going on all around him.

Rusty shined his helmet light downward to find hundreds of smashed up pieces of…

“Porcelain,” Rusty said. “Cole!”

“Yeah?” Cole asked.

“We’ve got another one!” Rusty said.

“Another what?” Cole asked.

“Another toilet murder!” Rusty shouted.

Cole groaned. “You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not!” Rusty said. “There’s shit everywhere! Roxy must have been having a big time blow out when the killer…”

Rusty caught himself mid-sentence. He looked around frantically. “Kid, is the killer still here?”

Paul pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?!” Rusty asked. “How could you not know?”

“I don’t know!” Paul repeated. “One second everything was fine. The next, the whole place has been knocked over!”

Rusty looked up at the ceiling, which had previously served as the floor. In the part of the trailer that once served as Roxy’s bathroom, the toilet was missing.

“Get your ass over here, boy!” Rusty cried.

Paul obliged his rescuer.

“Lower me down a few feet more!” Rusty shouted.

Rusty’s feet hit the floor. He tied a rope around Paul’s waist, secured it to a metal ring on his harness with a hook, then tugged on the line.

“Pull us up!” Rusty said.

Cole and the firemen heaved and heaved until Rusty and Paul were safely on top of the trailer.

“Is he down there?” Cole asked as he shined a light into the square hole.

“No,” Rusty said. “He’s gone.”

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