122017

Wake up and smell the coffee

It had been a long day. Heck, it had been a long week. Come to that, the year was wearing a bit thin too. Such were the paths my mind wandered as I lay comfortably back in my chair, feet on my desk, one warm July afternoon. I was too sleepy to get up and get a drink of water, and it wasn't time to go home yet. The glamorous life of the small business owner!

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," I called.

There was no answer.

"Come in," I said again.

Still no answer.

"Come in!" I shouted.

Dead silence.

With a sigh I put my feet on the floor and rummaged in my drawer for my 45. Then I remembered what happened to it during last month's giant fly infestation on Tailor Street. I had been lucky to escape with my life, and if it hadn't been for that brave little tailor I would have ended up as dinner for maggots the size of boa constrictors. Guess that really would have been one maggot; not enough meat on my bones to satisfy two of them. What with one thing and another, I had never replaced the gun. I looked around. An empty bottle of Tecate would have to do. By this time, I was sure no one was at the door. It had probably been a prank, but I couldn't be too careful. I do have enemies. My name is Hasp Deadbolt. I'm a private eye. I flung the door open and leaped out into the hall, beer bottle raised. My foot landed on a box of a dozen eggs and shot out from under me. The beer bottle hit the ceiling and shattered, and I hit the floor, covering my eyes with my hand. I heard shards of glass skittering down the stairwell and I slowly pulled myself to my feet. I went over to the box of eggs. No one was going to be making any omelettes with these. They might have been poisoned anyway. Then I saw the note. I carefully picked it up by a clean corner and took a look.

"Mr. Deadbolt

"I need your help. I don't have much money, but these eggs could be a down payment on your bill. I hope you enjoy them. I do have the best eggs around. Most people fall for them... hard! Anyway, I will come see you soon.

"Sincerely,

"Little Red Hen"

Maybe one or two of the eggs were... no. Oh well. I set them on the table near the door and went back to my chair.

-----

The next morning a chicken was waiting outside my office. She was a pleasing russet bird, rather plump, about twice the size of a football.

"Little Red Hen I presume," I said, unlocking the door. "Do come in. By the way, the eggs were delicious, thank you. Alma made an omelette with chives, onions, and mushrooms."

She hopped up on the chair in front of my desk. "I could not help noticing some pieces of brown egg shell in the hall in front of your door, and a dried smear of albumin on the baseboard. You stepped on the box, didn't you."

She was one smart chick. "You are one smart chick. What do you need?"

"Mr. Deadbolt, I have a problem. My sheep are in the meadow, and my cows are in the corn. No telling how much they've already eaten. I had a little boy watching the sheep and he was supposed to look after the cows too. Usually when the livestock get loose I find him asleep somewhere under a haystack or an apple tree. I swear, sometimes it seems like I have to do everything myself. This time, though, my shepherd is nowhere to be found. His mother is going to be very upset tonight if he isn't home at dinner time. Ever since his sister ran off with a tinker, she's been overprotective. Can you help me?"

I couldn't say no. I have never been able to resist a damsel in distress. Besides, nothing beats fresh food straight from the farm. I went out to the farm to take a look around. "LRH Farms," I read. As the Little Red Hen had called ahead, no one bothered me while I checked out the meadow, the cornfield, and the fields where the sheep and cows were supposed to stay. There were also a couple of barns, and a row of haystacks at the edge of a mown field. I didn't see any boys, just a few pigs and an old tired horse. And the sheep, which were back where they belonged. I didn't see any cows. The cornfield looked like something a lot more destructive than a herd of cows had been through it. I was puzzling over some strange depressions when one of the pigs sauntered over.

"Hey man," he said, a piece of straw dangling from his lips. "What's happenin'?"

"Just trying to figure that out," I said. "You see the little shepherd boy lately?"

"No man, he doesn't hang with us. He was here yesterday morning. I saw him taking a nap over that way." He pointed to the row of haystacks. I rubbed my chin.

"Well, where are the cows? Little Red Hen told me they were all over this field earlier this morning."

"Dunno man. Say, you know what these are?" He pointed at the depression in front of us. It was about 6 inches deep, more than a yard long and nearly 2 feet wide at its widest point. The sides were vertical, and the rich black soil crumbled into the edges of the hole where it was starting to dry out. A string of similar depressions stretched across the field. I followed the trail. Almost hidden in a pile of litter at the edge of the field was a battered iron cow bell. The trail went on, and so did I..

-----

I set the bell down on the Little Red Hen's kitchen table. "Recognize this?"

She paled. "Bossy! That's Bossy's bell! I recognize the little patch of blue paint at the lip. What has happened to her?"

"I fear the worst Ma'am. I followed a trail of very large footprints from your cornfield to the woods over by the river. There I found a pile of fresh bones, which I recognized as the skeletal remains of 5 cows. How many cows did you have?"

"Five." She hung her head and pecked at the tabletop. "What about Blue?" She asked, looking up.

"Ma'am. I'm sure that all five cows were eaten."

She jumped up and started running around the kitchen, wings flapping. She was having a panic attack.

"No! Blue is my shepherd. That's his name. (Strange name for a kid, but who am I to say?) The giant must have eaten him too!"

I made calming motions with my hands. She was making me dizzy. "I didn't find any of his bones. He's probably fine." I just had to find him, preferably with his bones still inside where they belonged.

-----

I hadn't told the Little Red Hen, because I didn't want to worry her unduly, but the trail of giant footprints had ended at a humongous passionflower vine on the riverbank. There was no evidence the giant had eaten Blue, but the boy's disappearance and the cattle poaching had to be connected somehow. I returned to the foot of the vine in the afternoon, armed with a pick, a coil of rope, and a gallon of coffee. I started to climb. I climbed, and climbed, and... you get the picture. Eventually I emerged through a hole in a cloud. Seeing ripe passionfruit bigger than watermelons littering the cloudscape, I figured it would support my weight. It did. Off in the distance I saw a stone cottage. I guess if the clouds would hold giants and a stone building, it was silly of me to wonder whether they'd bear my weight.

The cottage was bigger than it looked. It was also farther than it looked. A lot farther. The sun was just touching the cloudscape, turning the "ground" a disturbing shade of red, when I saw someone coming toward me. It was either a giant, very far away, or a shepherd boy, close. The kid made to run right by me. I blocked him. His eyes were wide, he was panting, his hair was standing up, and he was drenched in sweat.

"Where's the fire, Blue?"

"Run!" he screamed, jerking in my grasp.

"Come on, it can't be that bad. A little misunderstanding. We need to get this straightened out before anything happens." The ground was shaking.

"You don't understand," he screamed again. "Nothing is 'little' up here. And if she catches me, she'll eat me. Probably you too. Our only hope. Get down the passionfruit vine, cut it down so she can't follow."

The ground was shaking more as darkness gathered. "What did you do?"

He stuttered. I couldn't tell if his teeth were chattering or his jaws were being knocked together by the increasingly violent vibrations transmitted through the clouds. "She'll never miss it. That's what I thought anyway." He reached under his shirt and came out with a pearl earring. The pearl was the size of a cantaloupe. "She owes the Little Red Hen for those cows. I figured this would make us even."

"You idiot!" I shouted, stumbling as the ground started bouncing like a trampoline at a kid's birthday party. "That pearl's worth more than the entire farm. No wonder she's angry."

He started to make some lame excuse, but he was interrupted by a very loud, yet feminine, voice.

"Where's the cockroach who stole my grandmother's earring?!"

A rather attractive brunette stood over us, hands on hips. She wore a pair of extremely short shorts and a flannel shirt tied off below her breasts. If she hadn't stood nearly 20 feet tall, the effect would have been adorable. All things considered, the prospect was alarming. Blue cowered behind me, clutching the earring in both hands.

"Ma'am," I said, "I'm sure Blue didn't mean to steal a family heirloom. His judgment was impaired because he was worried about the serious blow you dealt to his employer, the Little Red Hen." I had more to say, but she interrupted me. She reached down and snatched both of us up in one hand almost before I could draw breath. Ah, the impetuosity of youth.

"What are you talking about!?" she growled. Blue's face was turning bright red. I couldn't breathe either. Both of my hands were trapped. I couldn't even gesture. Finally, just before I passed out, she loosened her grip slightly. I quickly explained about the cows. She sighed and sat down crosslegged on the clouds, setting us down in front of her. She leaned forward and looked me in the eye. I tried not to stare at her cleavage, which was larger than some geologic faults.

"That was my brother. He has such an appetite, and no self-control." This from the giantess who had nearly popped my head off like she was squeezing toothpaste out of a tube. Despite our brush with death it appeared we weren't going to be ground up and used as a flour substitute anytime soon. Blue returned the earring. The overwhelmingly well-endowed giantess promised to send her brother down to do chores for the Little Red Hen to make up for the loss of five cows and a corn field. We parted amicably. She even invited us to come up for dinner sometime.

As we were climbing down the vine, Blue told me he was thinking of taking her up on the offer.

"You ought to have your head examined," I said. "She almost killed you. And she's five times your height!"

"Yeah, but she's single. And she's hot." I couldn't argue with any of that. I also couldn't picture the two of them together (outside of the circus), but I know better than to argue with young love. I don't, however, know better than to harass it.

"One thing's for sure," I said. "If you bring her home to visit your mother, it better be on a nice day. I don't think your mother's living-room chairs would be very comfortable for her."

"Mr. Deadbolt, please," he said.

I wasn't done. " If you two get married she better watch where she throws the bouquet. It could be fatal. Finally, whatever you do, if you have children, don't ask me to babysit!" I draw a very firm line. I don't babysit any kid who outweighs me.

I almost forgot. The Little Red Hen offered me a lifetime supply of eggs. I had to turn it down, because I'm watching my cholesterol, but I definitely appreciated the thought.

Reprinted from Nursery Rhyme Noir -- https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/42875