16

Chapter 16

1:52 p.m.

Mrs. Fussy Pants blew her top. "Again, please, who are you and what are you hoping to contribute to this most horrid and embarrassing situation? This is just rich. I'm supposed to be--right now, mind you!--at a fundraiser for the North Side Orphanage giving the key note address after a glorious meal with important people who make more money in one day than you would ever be able to count in your lifetime, that is, if your species can count! You had better get me out of this roach-infested building and out from in front of this putrid and deplorable man, and you'd better do it right now, whoever you are!!"
She shook her finger in my face as if I were her little pet poodle who'd just gotten caught eating poop. I put my arm around Bufford's shoulder and led him over to the refrigerated drink aisle. I opened the cooler door, and pulled out two Bud Lights.
"Got a buck or two?" I asked.
He fished into his pocket and handed me a dollar and 36 cents in small change. I placed the change on the front counter. No need to expand the delinquency.
"We got us a problem," I said.
"Yup."
"What are we going to do about this, Bufford?"
"I don't know, man. I just wanted a Snickers bar. I walked in to the store and was heading to the candy when I saw her. I thought it was a dream at first. I mean, why would she, of all people, be in our neighborhood? It was, like, fate or something. I just lost the dial and the next thing I know, I've got this Snicker bar hanging out of my mouth, and I'm winding Scotch tape around and around her and she's screaming in my ear---Are they really bringing me a helicopter?"
"Yeah. You don't know how to fly one of those, do you?"
"Never been near one."
"That's what I thought."
"You think they'll throw a pilot in with the deal?"
"No. And I wouldn't expect a substantial amount of fuel, either."
"Yeah." He popped the top off his beer and took a swig.
"You did say that you wanted to do something people would remember for a long time. This would certainly fit the bill."
"I was thinking more like a half-marathon or something. So, what are we gonna do?"
Just then, a voice crackled through the walkie talkie.
"Mr. Hendricks, do you read? Come in, Mr. Hendricks. What's going on in there?"
I pushed the talk button.
"Captain, we're all OK. Mrs. Franklin is unharmed and I'm speaking with the perpetrators right now. I need a bit more time."
"We've lost 3 of our troopers to a dognapping a couple of blocks down, and the hostage negotiator was needed for a jumper on top of the DMV building. We're short-handed here. What's the deal with this crazy neighborhood?! No matter. Anyway, you've now got 10 minutes before we launch 5 canisters of tear gas into that building and solve the problem OUR way."
"Understood, sir. I just need a bit more time, that's all."
"Well, hurry up. The press is beginning to smell up the place and I've got to give 'em something. What'd'ya got for me?"
"I can tell you that the situation is calm and that we're just sitting around drinking a couple of beers, working it out."
"Whatever. I don't want this taking all night. We've all got to get home to our families. Beside, it's lottery number night on channel 4 and I'm feeling lucky."
"I'm feeling lucky, too, Captain, given the circumstances."
"By the way--Can you tell this Ethyl woman to quit messing with the boys' uniforms?"
"Just give her a drink of water and direct her to the nearest patch of grass. She'll be fine. I'm hanging up now." (I don't know how to stop talking on those, officially, so I just said 'I'm hanging up now'. I figured that would get my point across.)
Mrs. Smart Butt was at it again.
"Hendricks, huh? Well, that's the most useful information I've gotten all day. You can expect to hear from my lawyer very soon, Mr. Hendricks. Let me go!!!"
"Hold it. Everybody quiet. What was that?" Edgar made a whimper and rolled back over, intently listening along with the rest of us.
There was a rustling sound that seemed to be coming from the mop closet. Then, something like a saw cutting through tin followed by the familiar whimper of one 17 year-old Australian Shepherd. Help, as it was, had arrived.