Tag Archives: writing

Toilet Gator Feedback

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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

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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…

“ERGH!”

“Shit,” Cole mumbled.

“UNGH! ARRGH!”

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.

“ERGH!” Gordon shouted. “ONE THOUSAND ONE….ONE THOUSAND TWO!”

“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

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

“One…two…three!”

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

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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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Toilet Gator – Chapter 48 (Full)

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

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

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

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

Captain Roundtree continued to cut.

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

Cole stood there in silence.

“Get it?” Rusty asked.

Cole did not respond.

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

Still, no response from Cole.

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

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

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

“Grow up,” Cole said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Rusty said. “I’ll do it.”

Cole was surprised. “You will?”

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

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

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

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

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

“She would not have,” Cole replied.

“Would Cole be a happier man today?”

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

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

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 48

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

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

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

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

Captain Roundtree continued to cut.

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

Cole stood there in silence.

“Get it?” Rusty asked.

Cole did not respond.

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

Still, no response from Cole.

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

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

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

“Grow up,” Cole said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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BQB’s Big Book of Badass Writing Prompts Coming Soon!

Bookshelf Q battlers for Amazon

Hey 3.5 readers.

Your old pal, BQB here.

I don’t have an exact date yet but the finishing touches are being put on the epic book, Bookshelf Q. Battler’s Big Book of Badass Writing Prompts.

Can you feel the excitement in the air?  I can.  And I think it’s actual excitement and not just bad gas.

I’m thinking early June.  I’m not in a rush but assuming all goes well, I don’t see why it would have to be later than June.

So…it’s going to happen.  Huzzah!

It’ll be out on Amazon and you know, 3.5 readers, I don’t ask you for much but I’d love it if you could buy a copy and help fund my lifelong dream of buying a mansion in Malibu and filling the giant attached pool with beautiful women with loose morals.

Wait!  Did I say I wanted to buy a mansion and fill a pool with women with loose morals?  That was clearly a typo.  Silly me.  I meant to say I want to achieve my lifelong dream of being a writer and spread my love of the written word with the masses.

OK.  It’s a little bit about filling a mansion pool with loose women.

Fine.  I’ll be honest.  It’s 5% spreading my love of the written word and 95% filling a Malibu mansion pool with women with loose morals.

At any rate, that pool isn’t going to be filled with women overnight.  The way I figure it, there’s 3.5 of you, so the way I figure it, if I charge $2.99 per book, and if all 3.5 of you buy one, then I have a cool $10.47 coming my way.

Huzzah!  Sunday night special at the Sizzler here I come!  Or maybe just an order of mozzarella sticks and a diet coke with free refills at Applebee’s.

Wait.  Jeff Bezos gets a cut to fund his army of delivery drones that will eventually be used to conquer the world?

Fine.  Cut out the cheese sticks.  It’s just a diet coke for me but hey, free refills!  Nice.  Gotta have dreams, 3.5.  Gotta dream big.  It’s important.

3.5 READERS: But BQB, we’re broke!  We can’t afford $2.99 for your fabulous book!  We just think you should entertain us forever for nothing!

I understand, 3.5.  The economy has sucked boku butt since 2008 and is only now just starting to show signs of coming back around.  But you’ve been forced to scrimp and save and pinch your pennies.  Maybe you lost your dough in the stock market.  Maybe you lost the job.  Maybe you lost your dream and now you’re cleaning bus station toilets.

I get it.  $2.99 doesn’t grow on trees, even if it is for an awesome book by one of the greatest and most humble writers of all time.

That’s fine.  Here’s some shit that you, my 3.5 readers, can do to help me, BQB, achieve my dream of spending 5% of my time spreading my love of the written word to the masses and 95% of my time in a Malibu pool filled with women of ill repute.

You know what?  Let’s make it a top five list:

#1 – Tweet a link to my book.  Or, share a link to my book on Facebook or your preferred time wasting social media site.

#2 – Write a blog post about my book.  Want to write a review?  I could spare a free copy.  I’ll just have to fill my pool with less morally challenged women.  Or better yet, it is a book full of writing prompts.  Take the challenge and write a little something based on one of my prompts and post it, making sure you tell everyone where you got this fabulous prompt.

#3 –  Tell a friend about my book.

#4 – I shouldn’t assume you have a friend.  Lord knows I don’t have any.  Make a friend, then tell that friend about my book.  It will be a good excuse for you to make a friend.

#5 – Pray for high book sales.  I hate to bother God because he’s got a back log of prayers, many of which are more important than my book sales, but you know, if you don’t get in the cue somewhere then you never get served.   Drop a prayer, mark it low priority and the man upstairs will get to it eventually.

In conclusion, 3.5 readers, I know you all have lives but you know, we all have to prioritize.  Are your jobs and livelihoods and family commitments and so forth more important than helping me promote my love of the written word but more importantly, helping me sell books so I can raise the funds necessary to fill a Malibu pool with morally bankrupt women?

I think not.

In seriousness, thank you for all you do, 3.5.  I’ll let you know when the book is up.

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 46

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It had been a strange day for Paul. In the mere span of a day, he’d gone from being his fraternity’s dork Beermeister to a big time marijuana salesman. Sure, he missed his drinking buddy Chad, but the fat stacks of cash that had been rolling in all day more than made up for it.

Earlier that evening, he decided to celebrate his newfound success with a trip to Big Ray-Ray’s House of Fancy Funbags. He’d intended to purchase the extracurricular services of the prettiest stripper in the entire club, which, by Big Ray-Ray’s standards, usually meant the one that was walking the most upright on the particular day in question.

However, Paul’s father was an accountant and he’d always given his son one important piece of advice – “A fool and his money are soon parted.” Sure, Paul would have had more fun with a lady of the evening closer to his age, but in the end, there’d be the same amount of shame in the morning, so he decided to save a few bucks and go with Roxy.

In fact, the young lad was starting to feel right at home in Roxy’s trailer at the Impoverished Arms Motor Court. Roxy had fixed the boy a good, stiff drink and even cut the tension with a quip about that being “how she likes her men” as well.

Paul played with the ruffles on a throw pillow as he sat on Roxy’s couch. Just a few feet away, the old hooker was sitting in a recliner, wearing a stained bathrobe, puffing on a cigarette as she talked to her son on the phone.

“Buford,” Roxy said. “Slow down. You sound like a crazy person. Uh huh…yeah..that’s…no…son, that’s foolish talk. Yes, I’ve seen the news! Oh, you know how that junk is, bunch of primetime phonies trying to scare everyone so they keep watching the TV….what? No…no….you listen to me, young man, I am your Momma and I will take a shit whenever I damn well please! No…no…you do not get to tell me what to do, Buford! I…I…listen, I got to go, I’m entertaining a paying customer….that’s…you’re being ridiculous, Buford. I’ve got to go! Goodbye!”

Roxy hanged up her cell phone, then got up and took a seat next to Paul. “Where were we, darling?”

Paul sweated profusely. He grew so nervous that he choked up. “Umm…uh…”

The old gal rubbed her hand up and down Paul’s leg.

“Whoa, mama,” Paul said.

Roxy leaned in close. Her breath reeked of cheap booze and stale cigarettes but that didn’t matter to Paul, as this was the most action he’d ever gotten in his two decades of life on earth. A woman was touching him. That’s all that mattered. Still, he tried his best to block the fact that Roxy was roughly the same age as his mother out of his mind.

“You’ve never done this before, have you sweetheart?” Roxy asked.

Paul shook his head no.
“You’re so sweet.” Roxy slapped the boy’s knee and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go!”

“Where are we going?” Paul asked.

“Where do you think?” Roxy said. “To the bedroom. Come on, grab your little bat ‘cuz Old Roxy’s gonna teach you how to knock it out of the park.”

As soon as Roxy stood up, her stomach gurgled. “Uh oh.”

“Are you ok?” Paul asked.

Roxy tapped her smoke out into an empty liquor bottle. “I’m fine but, you know…when I stood up I think it knocked a hot one in the chamber loose.”

The old gal sashayed her way to the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute, lover. Old Roxy’s got to drop the Cleveland Browns off at the Super Bowl.”

“Take your time,” Paul mumbled. The kid was out of his mind. Here’s a synopsis of what was going inside of the kid’s head:

“Really? Am I really going to allow my first time to be with a geriatric hooker who is taking a dump this very moment? Aww, but then again, how long am I supposed to wait? College is almost over and none of the girls on campus will have anything to do with me because I’m a dweeb. But wait! Wait! I have weed, now! Hot girls my own age will do anything for free pot! Huzzah!”

Paul looked for an escape route. He tried to open the front door, but it creaked loudly. Roxy heard this and called out, “Are you leaving, honey?”

The kid knew he should have just run, but damn it, he was too polite. “Uh, no! No uh, just getting some fresh air.”

The sound of Roxy blowing ass into the toilet traveled through the trailer. “I’m sorry, doll. Can you smell it all the way out there?”

He could, for the trailer was small. He pulled the top of his shirt over his nose but still, he was too polite. “Nope! Not at all.”

“Oh good,” Roxy called out. “Because you know kid, between you and me, I’m not as fresh as a daisy like I used to be, you know.”

Paul spotted a window. He opened it slowly and to his delight, it didn’t creak. “Oh no. You’re fine, ma’am. Everything’s fine.”

The kid was about to jump through the open window when a terrifying sound frightened him. “ROAR!”

The next thing Paul new, the whole trailer was being flipped over. Chairs, the couch, the TV, all the furniture, all the knick knacks, it was like they were all raining down as the surface that had once been the ceiling became the floor.

Paul fell and banged his head, knocking him out cold.

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 45

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Ding dong! Ding dong!

Buford pounded the door of his father’s marvelous, sweeping McMansion, located on the outskirts of town. It was a fascinating structure, painted a pure white alabaster with all sorts of fancy columns and porticos. Off in the front yard, a solid marble statue of the Mayor himself stood watch with a cigar in one hand and a martini in the other, a cowboy hat atop its head.

“Daddy!” Buford shouted as he pounded on the front door. “Daddy! Open up!”

A few moments passed before the front light was flipped on. The door opened and the Mayor appeared with nothing but his cowboy hat and boxer shorts on. Sure enough, he held a cigar in one hand and a martini glass in the other.

“Buford?” the Mayor asked. “Is that you? Boy, have you lost your mind? It is one o’clock in the morning!”

“Daddy,” Buford said. “I got something real important to tell you.”

“Boy,” the Mayor said. “If you think for one second I’m going to let you back in this house.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Buford said. “Listen Daddy…”

“No, you listen,” the Mayor said. “I have put my foot down on this, Buford. You will never get back in this house again. It’s too good for you here and you got to get out in the world and learn how to be a man!”

“Daddy!” Buford said. “Listen to me! Have you been doing any shitting?”

“What?” the Mayor asked.

“The toilet!” Buford said. “You been on it?”

“What the hell kinda question is that, boy?” the Mayor asked. “I know you’re my son and all but there are some things that are just too personal too talk about, even between us.”

“Daddy,” Buford said. “You will die if you go to the bathroom. Do you understand?”

“What is this all about?” the Mayor asked as he sipped his martini. “Oh, wait a god dang minute. Is this about all the bullshit on TV?”

Buford scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

“Son,” the Mayor said. “That’s all smoke and mirrors. Yeah sure, there’s some whacko with a screw loose out there, running around gutting people like prized hogs at the county fair while they’re on the pot but the odds of becoming one of his victims is still pretty slim.”

“But uh, it’s still possible,” Buford said.

“Boy,” the Mayor said. “I am seventy years old. I’ve had every surgery ever. The doctors have poked me and probed me and cut me every which way and here I am, still walking around in my all together.”

A duo of Big Ray’s finest appeared in the door way. They both were clad in silky lingerie. They had hot bodies but their faces? They weren’t in danger of winning any beauty contests.

“Mayor,” the first stripper said. “Come back to bed.”

“Yeah,” the second stripper said. “You promised to let me polish your executive branch.”

The Mayor walloped both girls lightly on their behinds. “I’ll be right up, girls. Don’t start without me now!”

The strippers ran back upstairs. The Mayor faced his boy. “Look at me, son. I’m rich and successful and if you put your mind to it, you can end up just like me – flush with cash and able to buy as many discount prostitutes as you please.”

“But Daddy…”

“No, ‘but Daddy’ me, boy!” the Mayor said. “I appreciate this is the first night you’ve ever had out there all alone in the world and it’ll be hard on you but don’t worry. It will get better in time.”

“I’m not even talking about that,” Buford said. “You need to stay off the toilet.”

“Son,” the Mayor said. “I’m no head shrinker but if I were I’d say you being here is just a sad, desperate, pathetic ploy to wiggle your way back into my heart, make me feel all sorry for you and let you have your room back. Am I right?”

“No,” Buford said. “Are you even listening to me? You need to stay off the toilet!”

“Boy,” the Mayor said. “I appreciate you worrying but fuck it.”

“Fuck it?” Buford said.

“Yeah, fuck it,” the Mayor said. “I’ve had a good run. All sorts of things have tried to kill me in my lifetime and I’m still ticking. At my age, ff a madman wants to slice and dice me while I’m pinching a loaf then, well, that’s just God’s way of telling me that my time’s up and it is time for me to come on home.”

“You’re infuriating,” Buford said.

“Don’t try to flatter me with all your fancy Sitwell Community college words, boy,” the Mayor said as he shut the door. “Goodnight.”

As Buford walked away, he could hear his father laughing and cavorting with his discount prostitutes. The young man ignored it and pulled out his phone. He punched in a few numbers, then let it ring.

“Momma?”

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 43

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Cole, Rusty, Sharon and Gordon gathered around Maude’s desk, reviewing the giant stack of reports she’d taken throughout the day.

“This guy thinks the Toilet Killer is an alien from outer space,” Cole said.

“Check this one out,” Rusty said as he read part of a report out loud. “The Toilet Killer is my mother-in-law and even if it is, you cops should feel free to pin it on her and put her away forever because that bitch is cray cray.”

“I can relate,” Cole said.

“I beg your pardon?” Sharon asked.

“Huh?” Cole said. “Nah, I was just saying, in general, most people could relate to that. I can’t, because your mother was great. A saint, really.”

Rusty coughed into his fist. “Cough, cough, pussy! Cough!”

Gordon read from a report in his hand. “The Toilet Killer is a hitman hired by the CIA.”

“Not impossible,” Rusty said. “Although personally, I still don’t think we’ve paid enough attention to the possibility that this might not all be the work of the Al Qaedas.”

“It’s not the Al Qaedas, Rusty,” Cole said.

“We don’t know it’s not, not the Al Qaedas,” Rusty said.

Sharon read from a report. “The Toilet Killer works for the Al Qaedas.”

“Rusty,” Cole said. “Did you submit an anonymous report?”

“How dare you impugn my character, sir?” Rusty asked.

Sharon kept reading. “You may think this is not the work of the Al Qaedas, but keep in mind we don’t know this is not, not the Al Qaedas.”

“This is ridiculous,” Gordon said. “Just a bunch of attention seeking crackpots.”

“Tell me about it,” Maude said as she returned to her crossword puzzle.

“Well,” Sharon said. “The trail’s cold and these are the only leads we have so we better…ow…”

Sharon grabbed her head.

Cole and Gordon rushed to Sharon’s side and asked, “Are you OK?” at the same time.

“I’m fine,” Sharon said. “Just, Gordon and I have been at this mess twenty-four hours straight now. My head’s pounding.”

“You should get some rest,” Gordon said.

“You um, want to crash at my place?” Cole asked.

Sharon hesitated. “Really?”

“Sure,” Cole said. “Why not? I’ll give you my key. You know where everything is.”

Rusty coughed into his hand again. “Cough! Pussy! Cough, cough!”

“No,” Sharon said. “That wouldn’t be right and besides, Gordon needs a rest too.”

“Not gonna lie,” Gordon said. “I could nap.”

“Come on,” Sharon said. “We’ll charge a room off to the FBI.”

“One with room service,” Gordon said. “I’m starving.”

“Wait,” Cole said. “You’re leaving?”

“You’ve got my number if anything happens,” Sharon said. “In the meantime, maybe you and Rusty could run down some of those leads. I’d stay and help but…I’m beat. Come on, Gordo.”

“Way ahead of you,” Gordon said.

The agents walked out of the door. Cole looked around. He’d been left with Rusty, Jeff the computer guy, and a few random agents and officers who were hustling about.

Rusty slapped Cole on the back. “You’re a better man than I am, my friend.”

“What?” Cole asked.

“I know I’d lose my cool if a musclebound jock like that made it clear he was going to plow my ex-wife right in front of me,” Rusty said.

“No one’s banging anyone in front of me,” Cole said.

“I know,” Rusty said. “But he was talking about it.”

“He was not,” Cole said. “No one’s banging anyone. They’re just co-workers.”

“Whatever you say,” Rusty said.

“I do say,” Cole said.

“Fine,” Rusty said. “And I sympathize. If a giant weightlifter was about to repeatedly jam a hog that was much bigger than mine into the only woman I’d ever loved, I’d try to deny it too. The mind has all sorts of mechanisms like that to keep us from flying off the handle.”

“He’s not…” Cole shook his head and sat down. “They’re not having sex. And how do you know his hog is bigger than mine?”

“I don’t have proof or anything,” Rusty said. “And I don’t believe that NN1 report about you having a micro dong but…”

Cole blew up. “Never speak of that report again!”

“Fine,” Rusty said. “But look at the dude. He’s totally built. Like Schwarzenegger in his prime. I’m not saying your hog is below average. I’m saying his there’s a strong likelihood that his hog is above average.”

Cole dropped his head down on Maude’s desk with a thud. “Maude?”

“Yes, dear?” Maude asked.

“Wanna settle this?” Cole asked.

Maude sighed. “You want the truth?”

“I guess so,” Cole said.

Maude reached her old hand out and stroked it through Cole’s hair. “That man has a giant hog and he’s minutes away from giving it to the love of your life. I’m sorry, dear.”

“It’s OK,” Cole said. “These things happen.”

Maude lit up a cigarette. “Coffee, dear?”

“Yes, please,” Cole replied.

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