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.
The
end
This story is contained in a collection entitled Nursery Rhyme Noir, which is available from smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/42875
