"As the Worm Turns"

[Mu Satach]

<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."

[Mu Satach]

<center><i>"There's doing the worm and then there's being a worm... don't quit know which is worse." <br><b>Chapter Two: The Return of Fat Louie</b></i></center>

Dust particles caught the streams of sunlight as they danced across the room. They swirled and glided effortlessly as I read my racing form. Milton's Mongoose and Daisy Breadbasket were the winners today.

I'd put in a call into Salazar, my bookie later. Of course I could always wait for him to call me, but I had found it was better to place another bet quickly after losing. Even if it was a small one, that way the bookie knew you were still biting the hook.

I flipped the page to the weather report for tomorrow. Crazy Boy Floyd was going to be running and he was a weasel that liked it when the track was wet.

Contented with myself, I propped my wingtips up on the desk and looked over the rest of the paper. The water mains downtown went berserk; several offices were without water for the afternoon. A child was missing on the Upper East Side. And a politician caught with his hand in the cookie jar one to many times. Just another day in the city, or so the paper said.

Just then I heard a commotion in the front office. I was conveniently out for the day working on a case. Or at least that's what Smitty was to tell anyone coming by. I could hear Smitty's voice raise, "Quaaa quaa quaaak whaaa!"

"Nuttin doin'"

“Yeah, we'll wait then."

The door burst open and in walked Buster Rags and Big "Cat" McGraw, two of the meanest bunnies in the city.

Looking over my paper at them, "Hello boys," I motioned to the chairs on the other side of the desk. "Have a seat."

"Well, lookie here Cat, the Dick is in." Buster's deep gravely voice rolled across the floor.

"Yeah, funny hows your duck thought youz was out somewheres." Cat McGraw squinted and turned one eye towards Smitty who stood in the doorway.

Smitty hissed, turned, shook his tail feather at Cat then slammed the office door shut. I could hear him grumbling on the other side of wood and glass as he shuffled papers about.

"He's not my duck." I went back to reading my paper. "So, what's the occasion, you two engaged and stop by to invite me to the wedding or what?"

Cat jumped up on my desk and ripped the paper out of my hands. "Always with you it's the funny remarks, one of these days it's gonna get you dead."

I tipped my fedora back a bit to get a better look at his scrunched up fluffy white face. "I bet you'd look lovely in lace."

Cat grabbed my shirt collar and yanked my face next to his. "And you'd look nice wearin' a pine box!"

"Cat, Cat, Cat... we've got business to do. You know the boss wouldn't like you to mess up his plans." Buster just sat in the chair. "Go down to the car and bring up the case."

Cat jerked me a little closer to him then smacked me up side the head then let go and jumped off of the desk. At the door he paused and looked at me, "One day you're not going to be so funny." he slammed the door and left.

"You's shouldn't tease him like that." Buster calmly said as he adjusted his tie.

"You need to choose better rabbits."

Buster shrugged, "he gets the job done."

"Pour you a drink?" I asked.

"Bourbon, staight with a twist."

"I'm fresh out of twists."

"That's a damn shame."

I pullled out my special stock and poured him a glass and pushed it across the desk. "So what brings you here?"

"We've got a job for youz."

"Look Buster, you know I don't do that kind of work."

"No, no, no, this is strictly legit. Fat Louie just wants you to find somebody for him."

“Fat Louie? I thought he was doing some time up at The Point for that violin shipment mess.”

“He’s been given time off for good behavior.” Buster grinned at me.

“What’s the going price for good behavior these days?”

“More than you make in a year, but back to business Dick. You’re to find-”

“Yeah, who,” I cut him off, “and once I find 'em do they end up floating belly up in a tank of water? I told you I don’t work for-"

"No,” Buster’s deep voice held just a touch of aggravation, “it's the bosses nephew Stanley."

"Stanley, isn't he the one that was going to Stanford?"

"That's the one. Stanley went down to Mexico with a group of friends for spring break a while back, haven't heard from him since."

"Why not just send your own people?"

"The boss is in a delicate situation at the moment considerin' the noise the O'Bannion boys have been makin around town. He's worried about Stanley, but he can't spare anyone. He needs someone he can trust."

I sighed and poured myself a drink. Cat made his way back into the office carrying a satchel. He glared at me then put down the case on the desk.

Stanley was a good kid, but working for Fat Louie was something else. Before you knew it word would be on the street that I was one of Fat Louie’s boys and then life would become difficult. It was best to stay out of these things.
"I'm sorry fellas, but you know my policy."

"But you haven't heard Fat Louie's offer." Buster casually spoke. He motioned towards the bag, "Show the goods Cat."

Cat opened up the satchel and pulled out a plane ticket, a wad of cash and a photograph. He set them all down in front of me. Buster leaned in and tapped the money, "Ten thou, just to go find the kid."

I started shaking my head no.

"Listen, you go down, have yourself a nice vacation, find Stanley, bring him home and you have enough to square yourself with Salazar. Word is you ain’t been too lucky lately with the weasels. So what's not to like?"

"What's not to like is people who do business with Fat Louie end up dead." I replied.

Cat leaned in and sneered at me, "People who don't do business with the boss end up deader."

I looked at Cat, "Deader? Oh yeah Buster... quite the educated fellow here."

Cat reached in and pulled out a pistol and shoved it in my face. "Say one more thing, just one more thing."

I took a deep breath and smiled lovingly at Cat.

"Knock it off!" Buster stood up and smacked Cat up the back of his head. "Put that thing away." He then turned and began placing the cash and tickets back in the bag. "Like I said, this deal is legit. You don't want to do it, fine. The boss will be saddened by your lack of good will."

"Sorry Buster, in my line of business it's best to stay neutral. Word gets out I'm working for Fat Louie half my contacts will dry up." I picked up the photo of Stanley and looked at him. He was a bookish looking fella. Round black horn rimed glasses, red bow tie and an innocent sweet smile. "He's a good lookin worm that Stanley." I passed the photo to Buster.

"Cat, let's go." Buster and Cat made their way to the outer office. I followed them out. Smitty blinked silently as they went to leave. At the doorway Buster turned and tipped his fedora to me. "As always, it's a pleasure seeing you."

"You too Buster." the door closed behind them. Behind the door their voices could be heard for a moment.

"Why'd you stop me in there?"

"Shut up Cat."

"Why didn't you let me put a bullet right between the eyes."

"I said shut up!" *smack*.

"Ow, what did you do that for?"

I turned and was stopped by Smitty. I looked into his eyes as he stared me down and tapped one yellow webbed foot on a pile of bills.

"Oh yeah,” I stomped off into my office "you work for the mob then!"