Through Darkest Suburbia With Gun And Camera
Part One
by Jeff Baker
Lord Alistair Hacking-Cough stared at the assortment of weapons. His face was grim as he perused the rifles, blowguns and even a bazooka leaning against the wall in the Game Room. Many of the weapons were fixed with telescopic sights on the barrels.
The name was pronounced “Hockking-Cogg” but had been misspelled on a land grant from His Majesty James II centuries ago. His Lordship stood six-foot-two with the reddish-tinged mustache of a big-game hunter in a Tarzan movie. He was muscular, keeping himself fit in his middle fifties and he was attired in Khaki shirt and pants, with thick boots and socks ready for jungle duty. Topping off the ensamble was a pith helmet,
And, he was upset. Genuinely anoyed.
“Dash it all!” He exclaimed. “Some of these would work against a charging bull rino, but they would be useless against our current quarry, eh?”
Behind him, a skinny man bearing a striking resemblance to a junior partner in an undertakers firm in an old English movie. Like His Lordship he was dressed in khaki shorts, matching shorts and pith helmet with thick boots and socks.
The skinny man who went by “Clive” shook his head.
We don’t get a call about something like this every day,” Clive said. “This creature has proven to be a danger to the locals. And the pay should be good.”
“The pay doesn’t matter,” Lord Hacking-Cough said. “This creature has proven to be a danger to the locals. It may be the most dangerous thing we have yet faced here in America. Aha!”
He reached into the row of rifles and pulled out an exceptionally long tree trimer with a combination clipper and saw blade at the tip, as well as a laser sight mounted on the rod.
“One can never be too cautious facing a dreaded Kite-Eating Tree.”
Clive nodded sagely, wishing he was in London. Or Cardiff. Or Madrid. Or even Livermore.
—end of part one…
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
This exciting story of danger, exxo-botany and lawn-care concludes next week! (Because I’m lazy!) See you then!
—-jeff
