Mu Satach
Feb 8th, 2008, 02:17:27 PM
<i><b>Another Exciting Dick Mole Detective Story</b></i>
<center><i>“I just know there is a duck somewhere... watching me.”</i>
<b>Chapter One: Misty Eye'd Moos</b></center>
So there was this cow that ran off into the night from the farmer who adored her a bit too much if you ask me, but then I’m not one to judge the private goings on’s between man and cow. But I digress, her name was Clarabell and she ended up following the rodeo circuit.
Fell hard for a bull named Brutus. Put 10 riders in the hospital he did, but that was before the days of the PETA on Ice protests. Lead by the figure ice skater mafia, they rained down on everyone’s parade.
So I say's to the cow, sitting by the duck, which had clearly drank too much sarsaparilla. "You can't keep torturing yourself like this. Some day you have to realize that he was destined to cheat on you."
The cow continued to sit next to the duck while the soft low soothing music poured out of the jukebox in the corner. It was one of those days when nothing seemed to make sense in the world. I took a sip of my root beer and looked at the duck that merely blinked at me.
The television was on in the corner with the sound turned down. Images of the day’s events passed silently before us. Chickens on rooftops, frogs on lily pads, moose stepping out on mice, the chaos would never end.
It was always bad giving news like this to someone. It didn't matter how much they prepared themselves for it, there was still that bit of shock at seeing the evidence before them.
"You don't need that piece of meat anyway." I said to her, trying to soften the blow. It didn't work as the cow's eye began to gum up and her nose began to shine with that gleam of mucus that makes me all soft inside.
I blinked, looked away and took another sip of my root beer.
At this point the duck got up from his stoop and waddled off towards the men's room. I think, but I'm not sure I heard him quack something about a floatation device. But then who really could speak mandarin Peking duck anyway?
"I need to get out of this racket." I muttered to myself and finished off the glass in front of me. I looked at the cow as she was digging in her Gucci handbag for something to wipe her nose.
Fishing in my pocket I pulled out a pillowcase and handed it to her.
With a shudder and a sigh she said, "Thank Moooo."
I politely looked away as she blew her nose and wiped away the green slime. She offered the pillowcase back to me, "Keep it." I said shaking my head.
I could have told her three weeks ago that things would turn out this way when she walked into my office that sultry afternoon.
I'd been sitting at my desk going over the day's weasel racing form. There was a fine art to picking the right weasel. I almost had it figured out, at least that's what I kept telling myself. Then, there she was standing there in my doorway, the fading sunlight glinting off of her golden hoop ear tags.
Clarabell, clear as a bell Clarabell; I listened to her story and reluctantly took the job. The weasels weren't paying off and the bills still had to be paid.
So here I sat with a weeping Holstein, an empty mug and a guilty conscious. "Look Sweet Cream," I said bluntly, "what's a nice Holstein like you mixed up with a Black Angus like this anyhow? You know these rodeo types are all alike, they move from town to town. Bulls like this," I paused and tapped the photo's sitting on the bar, "are only interested in the thrill of the moment and the accolades in the arena."
Clarabell silently nodded then started digging in her handbag again and started pulling out bills and placing them on the counter. I took the bills and then pushed them back at her shinny hoof. "You get yourself cleaned up and go home."
Her large brown eye looked back at me blinked a few times then she nodded her head. As she left the bar she turned her head back once and weakly smiled at me. Behind her a bus passed by, the reflecting sunlight blinded me for a moment. When my eyes readjusted only the open doorway remained.
Sweet kid, I thought to myself. I heard a rustling beside me and looked to see the duck had made his way back from the restroom and was crawling his way back up to his stool. He peered around me to look at the empty space where Clarabell had been sitting. His beady eyes blinked in rapid succession then stared at me. "Quaaa" he questioningly piped out.
I decided to ignore the question and tapped the side of my glass, signaling the bartender that I needed a refill. "Make it a double, Mic" I said sliding my mug at the approaching gorilla bartender with the cranberry bow tie.
The duck sunk on his seat lowered his head in disgust. "Quaa Whaaa," he spit out at me.
Raising the glass to my lips, I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, "Don't start with me Smitty, just don't start."
<center><i>“I just know there is a duck somewhere... watching me.”</i>
<b>Chapter One: Misty Eye'd Moos</b></center>
So there was this cow that ran off into the night from the farmer who adored her a bit too much if you ask me, but then I’m not one to judge the private goings on’s between man and cow. But I digress, her name was Clarabell and she ended up following the rodeo circuit.
Fell hard for a bull named Brutus. Put 10 riders in the hospital he did, but that was before the days of the PETA on Ice protests. Lead by the figure ice skater mafia, they rained down on everyone’s parade.
So I say's to the cow, sitting by the duck, which had clearly drank too much sarsaparilla. "You can't keep torturing yourself like this. Some day you have to realize that he was destined to cheat on you."
The cow continued to sit next to the duck while the soft low soothing music poured out of the jukebox in the corner. It was one of those days when nothing seemed to make sense in the world. I took a sip of my root beer and looked at the duck that merely blinked at me.
The television was on in the corner with the sound turned down. Images of the day’s events passed silently before us. Chickens on rooftops, frogs on lily pads, moose stepping out on mice, the chaos would never end.
It was always bad giving news like this to someone. It didn't matter how much they prepared themselves for it, there was still that bit of shock at seeing the evidence before them.
"You don't need that piece of meat anyway." I said to her, trying to soften the blow. It didn't work as the cow's eye began to gum up and her nose began to shine with that gleam of mucus that makes me all soft inside.
I blinked, looked away and took another sip of my root beer.
At this point the duck got up from his stoop and waddled off towards the men's room. I think, but I'm not sure I heard him quack something about a floatation device. But then who really could speak mandarin Peking duck anyway?
"I need to get out of this racket." I muttered to myself and finished off the glass in front of me. I looked at the cow as she was digging in her Gucci handbag for something to wipe her nose.
Fishing in my pocket I pulled out a pillowcase and handed it to her.
With a shudder and a sigh she said, "Thank Moooo."
I politely looked away as she blew her nose and wiped away the green slime. She offered the pillowcase back to me, "Keep it." I said shaking my head.
I could have told her three weeks ago that things would turn out this way when she walked into my office that sultry afternoon.
I'd been sitting at my desk going over the day's weasel racing form. There was a fine art to picking the right weasel. I almost had it figured out, at least that's what I kept telling myself. Then, there she was standing there in my doorway, the fading sunlight glinting off of her golden hoop ear tags.
Clarabell, clear as a bell Clarabell; I listened to her story and reluctantly took the job. The weasels weren't paying off and the bills still had to be paid.
So here I sat with a weeping Holstein, an empty mug and a guilty conscious. "Look Sweet Cream," I said bluntly, "what's a nice Holstein like you mixed up with a Black Angus like this anyhow? You know these rodeo types are all alike, they move from town to town. Bulls like this," I paused and tapped the photo's sitting on the bar, "are only interested in the thrill of the moment and the accolades in the arena."
Clarabell silently nodded then started digging in her handbag again and started pulling out bills and placing them on the counter. I took the bills and then pushed them back at her shinny hoof. "You get yourself cleaned up and go home."
Her large brown eye looked back at me blinked a few times then she nodded her head. As she left the bar she turned her head back once and weakly smiled at me. Behind her a bus passed by, the reflecting sunlight blinded me for a moment. When my eyes readjusted only the open doorway remained.
Sweet kid, I thought to myself. I heard a rustling beside me and looked to see the duck had made his way back from the restroom and was crawling his way back up to his stool. He peered around me to look at the empty space where Clarabell had been sitting. His beady eyes blinked in rapid succession then stared at me. "Quaaa" he questioningly piped out.
I decided to ignore the question and tapped the side of my glass, signaling the bartender that I needed a refill. "Make it a double, Mic" I said sliding my mug at the approaching gorilla bartender with the cranberry bow tie.
The duck sunk on his seat lowered his head in disgust. "Quaa Whaaa," he spit out at me.
Raising the glass to my lips, I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, "Don't start with me Smitty, just don't start."