|
 |
 |
 |
||||||||||||||
 |
 |
|||||||||||||||
|
|
"But where's Rodrick?" Dabunnie asked. | |
|||||||||||||
|
Dinkweed chuckled and said, "Boys, they ain't guns...this is a gun." He pulled out his assault weapon and waved it around. A yellow king-cab truck hauled up with a man who looked like one of The Beetles driving it. The DFO became nervous, and pointed their guns at the man in the truck. "You better not be armed, Stretch! We saw your video about shooting cats, so you'd better get out and come with us." Mark and Felton took him to the DFO building and locked Stretch in a small room. "Now don't be alarmed," the DFO said, "but I gotta give ya one of them there strip-searches. It won't hurt that much, so just try to keep yourself calm." Stretch shrugged and replied, "That's naytcha." One of the DFO officers walked forward. "Now, let's see what you're hiding in your underwear." He ordered Stretch to drop his drawers and warned him there'd better be no doodling around. There was a knock on the door, and Dabunnie braced in. Her eyes widened when she saw her hubby's drawers around his ankles. "So that's why you ain't been givin' me any!" bellowed Dabunnie. She stormed out of the DFO building and down to Striker's to borrow her 'Bob'. Striker asked what was happening, and Dabunnie filled her in. "They have him in a secret room with LobstaMobsta and Jew-Jew. If I could get your 'Bob' braced in the door, I think I could get enough leeway to pry it open. They have guard dogs though, so I want you to run over to Chachi's and get that black woman who was at the Sears boy's house earlier to get naked and scare those dogs away." Striker had a better idea. "Let's get that big bastard from Sesame Street...the one who looks like a horse. He's brown and shaggy, and has a trunk. Snuffaluffagus...that's his name. If he can't rescue the boys, no one can. There's only one key to his cage, and its around Grand-mama's neck, like the fella says. We gotta get that key, and the secret weapon, too. Rodrick has it...he calls it The Redfish Cannon. It fires three-round blasts of redfish cuttings at more than 600 miles an hour to a distance of 500 yards. The spines have poison in 'em, and can pierce steel." "But where's Rodrick," Dabunnie asked. "Last time I seen him," Striker answered, "he was on a five-gallon bucket, headed for Fish Island. Bubble gum spotted him later at that Sears boy's house with a digital video camera. He was dressed in hunter-orange and lookin' in the basement window. He'd heard footsteps, then suddenly that Sears boy was standing behind him yelling, "Rodrick, what are you doing?" Rodrick responded, "Your lights are so bright down here I can't even think straight. I thought I was over at the Superstore or somethin'." "Well, turn off that digi-cam and help me drag the pound for a feed of lobstas. I've got a heavy-set black woman coming ova again lata for suppa and I wanna feed her right." Rodrick asked if he could stay for the mug-up. The Sears boy said he had a full table, but Rodrick could squeeze in between Juicy Lucy and Dinkweed if he wanted. "No way!" Rodrick yelled, and flew out the door with an arm-load of lobsters. "Hey, Robert! Robert Gummit! Stop squealin' them tires and give me a lift up to the bank," Rodrick hollered. "Gotta cash this pogie check that I just got today then go down to Evan 'Pissy-Fingas' to buy me some Up Cola and mince meat wrapped in wax paper." With the remains of his hard-earned EI check he went out and bought three coils of rope for the damn snarls in the trawls and four turkey subs from Subway. BannaBack was coming up the road about that time with four chocolate bars, two bags of scabs, and a two-liter bottle of Diet Pepsi, and yelled, "Rodrick, give me one of those subs before I sow your arse together and start feeding ya and feeding ya!" Then, out from behind Geneva's, came the 300-pound black woman. She said her name was Jamima, and asked if Rodrick knew where she could get five pounds of frozen cranberries and three pounds of salt herring. Rodrick said, "Ain't nary one 'round here." The next thing he knew he was tits-up and a stream of sticky syrup was falling in his eyeballs. He squealed like a girl, pryed his eyes open with his fingers, pushed the overweight Aunt into some bull-rushes, and ran blindly in the direction of Sea Star. Rodrick figured the smell of salt fish would keep her off his trail. A ways down the road, he flagged down Murray Newell who told him he'd give him a ride to Barrington, but first he had to take his 'binos' down to South Side Beach and give them to Fart. Striker told Dabunnie that was the last she'd heard about Rodrick's where-abouts. They left to find me, but didn't know I'd already gone back to the Harbour with Murray. We'd heard Dougie Atkinson was sittin' in a cop car. We stopped and asked Ernie, who joked that he must have set fire to Emery's fish plant. "Ain't no way," Murray said, just as BubbleGum came run-walking towards us. |
|
||||||||||||||
|
|
|
||||||||||||||
 |
 |
 |
||||||||||||||
|
|  |
|
