Please enjoy the next post in Murdertrout, Chapter 8 of Attack of the Lesbian Activist Squirrels. Comments are welcome. Tips via the PayPal link to the right are also welcome but always optional.
Merry Christmas and happy reading.
Cindy and Brett were so busy cycling through music samples that might bring the hawk/eagle back that they’d forgotten about The Curmudgeon, who’d obligingly wandered off. They were arguing about the parallels between Boy George from the 1980s and Marilyn Manson from the 1990s.
“They’re both sexually ambiguous freaks.” Cindy shouted.
“”Wildlife cannot be attracted to an asshole like that!” Brett countered. Cindy was about to eviscerate his bias that wild animals had some sort innate soulful beauty when The Curmudgeon interrupted.
“Showtime!” He announced.
They both looked over at The Curmudgeon. He was sniffing the air. He’d detected a faint scent. Axe Body spray combined with socialism! That meant only one thing. The river was about to go into “stupid mode”!
“What!?!” Cindy barked. She’d formulated a devastating riposte to Brett’s bullshit and was upset she’d missed the moment.
“Stupid mode! The time is now.” The Curmudgeon announced with satisfaction. He tossed a pine cone in the water. Whoosh… a trout struck at it. The Curmudgeon beamed. “So, you doubt my theory that stupid gullibility is somehow transmitted from its source upstream? Watch this!”
While they’d been distracted he’d dispensed with his willowy fly rod. He was now holding a generic and far more stout spinner rod. He speared an M&M with a bare hook and cast a line. Almost immediately the line went taut. The Curmudgeon set the hook and reeled. Soon he had a trout in his hand.
He removed the hook and tossed the fish back. Then he slathered his hands with Purell. “Got no idea how communicable stupidity really is.” He explained as he wiped his hands clean and baited the hook with another M&M. Cindy wished he’d save some for her. As if reading her mind, The Curmudgeon tossed a bag her way.
He cast again and landed another trout within seconds.
“Trout. Do. Not. Eat. Chocolate.” Brett stammered.
“I agree, any trout that wants chocolate is an insult to piscine honor.” The Curmudgeon nodded vigorously. “But they’re in stupid mode, so it’s a lock.”
He cast again and landed a trout effortlessly. The water was literally frothing as fish charged to and fro in a sort of frenzy.
“I’ve been working on audio clues.” The Curmudgeon added. He was consulting a little notebook on which he’d scrawled notes. “If I say the right phrase I seem to increase the size of the catch. Watch.”
He baited another hook and took a deep breath. “Universal Basic Income!” He shouted at the water. Brett and Cindy both noticed a slight increase in the froth and looked at each other. The Curmudgeon cast into the maelstrom and immediately landed another fish. Cindy and Brett stared at each other. They were flummoxed; uncertain whether they were witnessing a new and heretofore unknown fact of the universe or falling for some weirdo’s magic trick.