Olympics Squirrel Style

 

Gill crumpled the paper in his hand tighter.  “Damn you Nestor.  You can’t. . .”

Louie stuck his head out the kitchen door.  “What is the fuss about?”

Gill shrugged.  “Nothing, Louie.  I got ten more minutes on my lunch break.  I’ll unload the supplies from your pickup in a few.”

Louie nodded and went back to work. 

Gill turned back to the television.  “Bet on a sure thing, he tells me.  His cousin is the tree’s best representative.  Right, and I am nuts enough to believe him.  Shit!”

Gill cringed as the second squirrel body-slammed his opponent on the ground repeatedly.  Three more squirrels raced down the tree tossing themselves into the fray.  “Oh you dumbass shit for brains,” Gill screamed.

Louie raced out the kitchen door, meat cleaver in hand.  “Get the hell out of my. . .”  He looked around.  No one but Gill behind the bar greeted his eyes.   He inhaled and exhaled faster than he cared to.  Road kill wasn’t easy to come by.  If he didn’t carve it soon, rigor mortis would have the meal the jackals paid catering prices for.  Their weddings created enough stench to drive even the hyenas away for days on end.   Dead carrion required skillful quick accurate handling.  One more interruption and . . .

“Shit be double dammed!”  Gill tossed something onto the bar.  “I had to listen to that oversized walnut.”

Louie dropped the meat cleaver with enough force on to the bar that he buried part of the blade into the wood.  The handle vibrated with a low hum.  “Gill, you been gambling again, haven’t you?”

Louie reached for the wad near the edge of the bar.   Gill scrambled up on the bar, chirping repeatedly.  Louie leapt toward the item in question.  “I suggest you leave that alone Gill.”

Gill crouched, his hand ready to grab the wad.  Louie vaulted on top of the bar, his arms raised. 

Bettina and Melanie stopped as they entered Rattigan’s.  The only sound emanating from within was the sports announcer’s voice on the television.  “Our opponents are sizing each other up.  One outweighs the other.  Size doesn’t always count.”

Bettina glanced at Melanie.  “I don’t know what this is about.  I think we best make our way to the office. We may need bail money before this is over.”  

Melanie’s wide-eyed stare almost undid Bettina’s composure.  “Louie may be compact, but he’s flexible.  Gill will try his squirrel tactics.  A free-for-all will ensue.  Thus our own freestyle wrestling match.”

Melanie leaned over and whispered, “How do you know the outcome?”

Bettina laughed.  “You don’t until the cops separate everyone.  See, squirrel wrestling gets the audience involved as well as the participants.  By the time the fines and penalties are handed out, everyone is broke or out their winnings.  The brawl becomes liberating, if you catch my drift.”

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HAPPY WEEKEND GANG!

I hope you are enjoying the last of the summer regardless of this screwy weather we're having.  This week in honor of the Olympics and all the hype that goes with the events, I decided what if our shape shifting citizens of Talbot's Peak got their own contests going.  Well the rest is what my muse came up with.  

Remember to share a good book or two with your spice and loves!  

SOLARA