Cocoa Tales

Episode 22: Chapter 5 - Being a Brief End of the Past

The traffic along Shasta Street was slow, lumbering through the streetlights unfailingly delaying only the most important people in Redding. Parked alongside the logjam of automobiles, Smokey idled, belching out a steady stream of smoke from its rattling tailpipe.

Floyd glanced in his rearview mirror, saw a woman behind the steering wheel pinch her nose in an exaggerated fashion, clearly intended as a message to him. Floyd sighed. Why hadn't they driven Smokey to Shasta High that morning, why?

"This isn't good," Jessica said, leaning on her hand as she stared out the window. The rear passenger-side door hung open, the back of Smokey empty.

Floyd leaned low in the driver's seat to peer through the passenger-side window. "What are we gonna do about this?"

Scratching her head, Jessica slowly shook her head in amazement, silently watching Faber's body as Nibbles pressed it against the glass of a veterinarian's shop.

"Faber," Floyd hollered through the open window, "I mean, Nibbles? Think we can get moving?"

"She's in heat!" he hollered. "There's a kitty in heat in here!"

Jessica took a deep breath. "I don't know how we're gonna get him back in the car."

"Sorry," Nibbles said, "I really shouldn't use gender sensitive terms like 'kitty'. I just can't control myself when I smell one in heat."

"We need to radio for some help," Jessica said.

"No," Floyd said, "we can't."

"You wanna keep this under the rug, I get that. I can subdue him," Jessica stated, "but not without bruises."

"No," Floyd said, "I mean we can't radio right now. The co-dependent garbage men are on."

"Co-dependent what-now?"

Turning to the radio in Smokey, Floyd flipped a switch. The voice, a gruff semi-southernly tone, said, "–'til you make it. She needs to feel like you're still attracted to her, brother."

"But I am still attracted to Carole," a higher-pitched equally southern voice replied. "I just can't seem to convince her she's beautiful. And she is. So bleepin' beautiful to me."

Staring at the radio, Jessica said, "What is this?"

"The co-dependent garbage men," Floyd replied. "They tie up the lines all morning. All the lines."

"Even the emergency ones?"

The higher-pitched voice continued: "She could be four hundred pounds and I'd still love her. A little baby weight don't mean nothing to me. But try to convince her that."

"A woman's self esteem is a fragile think, Mort. Handle it with care."

"Yeah," Floyd replied with a sigh. "Even the emergency lines."

Still pressing his face against the glass of the vet, Nibbles hollered, "I think she's a brunette!"

Limping along the hallway between the cell of Cell Block 'S' I held a stitch in my side, sucking air. Well, I said between gasps, she got...away.

Montgomery Gerald was rubbing his forehead, his eyes closed as he leaned against the cold bars of his cell. As I stepped through his perpetually open cell door I glanced at The Sandman who was eyeing me sidelong. "How," Monty said, "is that even possible, Storyteller?"

Well, I mean, I wasn't always the best runner in school, and my over-developed bosoms tend to bounce up and down, but I just can't bring myself to wear a bra, no matter how discreet–