Confessions of a Demonically Possessed Librarian

Part 11 - Making an Entrance

"You don't have to be so rough with him."

"Ack! Is that a joke at my expense laddie?!"

The words come into my brain muffled and foggy. I start to come to and see my tan-brown Oxford Brogues being dragged along the Sheriff station's floor. That's going to scuff up the heels for sure.

Trying to reach up and dislodge myself I realise my hands are zip tied together. The Sheriff's pulling me across the room by the collar towards the entrance. Wriggling to get free, he only yanks me harder.

His left arm turns at an awkward angle and the beady eyes of Detective Barkinson meet mine.

"I'm sorry laddie, this isny how I wanted things to go down. But given the circumstances..."

The puppet looks to the looping deputies and my discarded knife laying on the ground.

"You've got the wrong idea!" I cry out in desperation. "That was just for protection! Peter told me about the situation with the deputies and I thought I could maybe help to break their curse somehow. A make-good you know. Try to mend fences, before this all gets too far out of hand!"

Barkinson fixes me with a hard stare, well as much as a canine hand puppet is able show stern disapproval anyway. He pivots to the side to look at Peter, who must have turned up in my unconscious interval. The paltry phantasm shrugs.

"I can't lie. No, we were gonna kill them and feed them to the Sheriff in revenge for you taking his car earlier today."

"What the hell!" I admonish the poxy poltergeist. More like poultrygeist considering his lack of back bone in the situation. Should have never trusted him.

"I told you it wasn't the right thing to do!" He lies. Floating there whilst he might as well be slithering on the ground like the little snake he is!

Shoes scraping along the gravel outside now. This Sheriff is ungodly strong. He throws me into Gracie's backseat, and I am not a small man. I impact on the leather interior and her cushioned seats thankfully make the landing only partially painful. Peter materialises next to me, and his face is split open by a bicycle tire before the rubber hits the window next to my face.

If this bastard damages my Gracie, I'll carve out his pig eyes and cut out his forked tongue!

He starts her up and she purrs to life. Hearing the sounds caused by another man is a heartache second to none. How I wish I had simply taken her back when I had the chance!

Logic dictates I would have had to tussle with the Sheriff to get the keys no matter what. However, in a parallel tale, perhaps that might have been a stealth mission where I snag them without waking him. Getting past his bloodhound would have been another matter, but maybe I could have gotten him to fetch them for me and avoided all this bother.

Regrets, I have a few.

"What are you doing?!" I question the monstrous officer.

"You've pushed me too far this time boy. Made yourself more trouble than you're worth. So, I'm gonna take you and this shitty bike and bury you both in the woods!"

"Oh dear." Peter says. Do I detect a hint of mirth in his tone?!

"Then I'm going to dig up that ginger shithead's corpse. Piss on it. And then have Barkinson here bind it to the spot, so he can just stand there exposed for all eternity!"

"Wait, what?!"

"Don't think I don't know your part in all this! This jacked-up bookworm doesn't have the balls to try something like this alone. No way you weren't in on it too!"