Short Stories To Tickle Your Funnybone (9 page)

It was time to get to work. I checked the
mirror to make sure Joyce wasn’t following and
pulled to the curb to look at our first file. The FTA
was Winnie
Taggert, a
single
woman with a
history of shoplifting busts. I thought the next
statistic had to be a misprint. It said she weighed
300 pounds. Her M. O. was to wear loose baggy
clothing under which she would hide her pilfered
merchandise. This last time she was nailed at the
Piggy Wiggley she was caught with a slab of
bacon tucked under each breast. “WOW!”

Winnie lived in a small apartment on the
second floor of a dingy walk-up. The front door
opened into a foyer with apartment doors on each
side and a staircase directly in the middle led to
the second floor. Lula and I decided that her being
a single woman with a history of smalltime busts,
she would know how the system worked and
would cooperate with us. We decided that the
direct approach would be best.

I got my bounty hunter gear out of the back
seat; pepper spray clipped to my belt, stun gun in
my pocket and cuffs looped over the back of my
pants. As we walked up the sidewalk, I happened
to notice a UPS truck parked a few spaces ahead
of us. The
driver was loading
some heavy
packages on a two-wheeled dolly to deliver around
the neighborhood. He smiled and waved and I
waved back

We
entered the
foyer
and climbed the
steps.
We stopped at the door of apartment 2-B
and knocked.
“Whadda you want?” came from within.
“My name is Stephanie Plum. I’m a bond
enforcement agent. Winnie, you missed your court
date and I need to take you down to the station to
get another court date and get rebonded.”
“Screw you and the horse you rode in on,”
she yelled. --- So much for cooperation.
I looked at Lula. We rolled our eyes and
thought, “Here we go again.”
I tried the doorknob and was surprised to
find it unlocked. I cautiously pushed the door open
and stepped aside. On a previous bust we had been
greeted with a blast from a shotgun. See, we were
learning.
I peered around the corner and there was
Winnie, all 300 pounds of her, sitting in a recliner
with a giant size bag of Dorito chips and a diet
coke. Go figure.
I entered the room with Lula right behind
me.
“Listen Winnie,” I said. “You know the
system. You know what’s going on. You know we
have to take you back to the station. How about
we just get it over with.”
“How about you take a flying leap out that
window over there,” she replied with a sneer.
I could sense that this was not going well.
What a surprise. “Well Winnie, here’s the thing.
We’ve got to take you in. It’s our job. We can
either do it the easy way or the hard way. It’s your
choice.”
“You can try and do it any damn way you
want, but I ain’t going nowhere,” she said as she
stuffed a handful of Doritos in her mouth.
I had noticed Lula start to bristle and I
figured her time of the month was starting to kick
in. “Put that bag of chips down. Quit stuffing your
face and get your fat ass out of that chair,” she
yelled.
“You’re one to talk,” Winnie yelled back.
“Your ass ain’t so petite either.”
“What you talking about?” Lula fumed. “I
just happen to be a full figured woman. You just
FAT.”
I could see this was going nowhere fast. I
knew we could get the cuffs on Winnie, but if she
refused to get up on her own, there was no way
Lula and I could lift her. As I was pondering our
situation, I glanced out the window and saw the
UPS driver returning to his truck with his empty
dolly. A light bulb went on in my head and I made
an executive decision. I whipped out my stun gun,
flipped it on, walked over to Winnie and gave her
the shock of her life. She slumped in her chair and
the bag of Doritos fell to the floor.
“That’s a damn waste of good chips,” Lula
remarked. “Now what?”
I pulled the cuffs from my pocket and
tossed them to Lula. “You cuff her and I’ll be right
back.”
I took the steps to the first floor two at a
time. I didn’t want to miss the UPS guy. He was
just getting in his truck when I waved him down.
“Pardon me, Sir,” I said. “I know this is an
unusual request, but I wonder if we can borrow
your dolly for just a few minutes?”
“Sorry ma’am,” he replied. “It’s against
company policy. I could get fired.”
I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I was
prepared. Although most of my skills as a bounty
hunter aren’t very sharp, I am a fantastic liar. I’ve
found it often comes in handy.
Like now.
I reached into my back pocket and pulled
out my fake badge that I had bought at the dollar
store and flashed it in front of his face.
“Let me explain,” I said. “My name is
Stephanie Plum and I’m a bail bond enforcement
agent for the City of Trenton and I need to use
your dolly in the apprehension of a fugitive.”
Sounds good doesn’t it?
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never heard
of anything like that before.”
“Sure you have,” I said. “You watch TV
don’t you?”
“We’ll sure,” he replied. “Who doesn’t?”
“Then I’m sure you’ve seen police officers
chasing a criminal and stopping a motorist to
commandeer his car?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen that before,” he said.
“Well, this is the same thing only I need a
dolly.”
“I--I just don’t know. This seems kinda
weird,” he stammered.
“I understand,” I said. “Let me clear this
up for you. I’ll just call my Captain and have him
give your supervisor a call and we’ll get the OK
from him. What’s your supervisor’s name and
number? I’m sure we can get this cleared up in the
next half hour to forty five minutes.” I whipped
out my cell phone.
He turned and looked at the mountain of
packages yet to deliver, grimaced, did some
mental calculations and said, “How long would
you need to borrow it?”
“Ten minutes tops,” I replied.
“Well OK, but hurry,” he said as he
unstrapped the dolly from the truck.
I
pushed
the dolly
up the sidewalk,
propped open the screen with a rock and drug the
dolly to the second floor.
When I entered Winnie’s apartment, I
found
Winnie
cuffed and Lula scarfing down
Doritos.
“These are damn fine chips,” she muttered.
“What we gonna do with that thing?” she asked
eyeing the dolly.
“This,” I replied, “is our mode of
transportation for Winnie.” I laid the dolly on its
back next to Winnie’s chair. “Here, help me get
her onto this thing. We’ll just roll her out of the
chair and on to the dolly and roll her down the
stairs and out to the car.”
Easy—Right!
We huffed and puffed and pulled and then
gravity took over and Winnie toppled out of the
chair, but she hit the dolly and rolled off. Gravity
was on our side but inertia was not. We each got
next to Winnie, me at her shoulders and Lula at
her butt and we pushed and pushed some more
until she was finally on her back on the dolly.
“Whew,” Lula gasped. “Please don’t let
me eat no more of those chips. I don’t wanna get
like that.”
We then realized our next problem. Winnie
wasn’t going to stay on that dolly by herself. We
needed something to tie her on with.
At this point, rope was not part of my
bounty hunter gear and I made a mental note to
visit the local True Value. We started looking
around the apartment for something to use as a tie
down. I was rummaging through her drawers and
pulled out a pair of black pantyhose. You can only
imagine how big a pair of pantyhose has to be to
fit a 300-pound woman.
“Jesus,” Lula exclaimed. “These babies are
big enough to seine fish!”
We
took a
sniff and
concluded that
someone
already
had.
But they
were
perfect.
When spread out from toe to toe there was ample
material to go around Winnie and the dolly. We
found
two more
pair
and proceeded to wrap
Winnie to the dolly like a mummy.
“OK, now what do we do?” Lula asked
eyeing our handiwork. “You think we can move
this tub of lard?”
“Well sure,” I replied, “I’ve seen guys
move refrigerators by
themselves with one
of
these things. It can’t be too hard.” Right?
Lula and I each grabbed a handle and lifted
with all we had.
“I better not get me a hernia over this,”
Lula gasped.
We
finally
got her in a
semi
upright
position with the weight balanced over the wheels,
just like I’d seen the refrigerator guy do it. We
wheeled her out the door to the head of the stairs
and looked down.
Oh oh! Gravity and inertia again.
We eased the wheels to the edge of the first
step, held on with all our strength, muttered a
prayer,
and
forward we
went.
WHUMP! The
wheels dropped to the second step and held. So
far, so good. Encouraged, we went for number
two. WHUMP! Hey, this isn’t so hard. One step at
a time. WHUMP! Rest, WHUMP! Rest.
We were about four steps from the bottom
when all hell broke loose. We heard a dog bark.
We heard a cat screech and suddenly a big yellow
cat comes busting through the open door and leaps
through the air landing on Winnie’s big tummy.
The cat’s next leap was right between our heads.
We ducked, Lula screamed and let go of her side
of the dolly and gravity took over. WHUMP!
WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!
As fate would have it, just as Winnie hit
the foyer floor, Joyce Barnhart walked in the door.
We could see the sheer terror in her eyes as she
looked up and saw 300 pounds of Winnie and 50
pounds of dolly coming straight for her.
One more WHUMP! and a bloodcurdling
shriek as Winnie
and
Joyce
collided in the
doorway. Good old inertia
gave
Winnie
the
advantage
of forward momentum. We
hurried
down the steps to find Joyce spread-eagled on her
back with the mummy Winnie directly on top.
“Get her off! Get her off!” Joyce screamed.
Lula and I each grabbed a handle and lifted
with everything we had. We had just lifted her
high enough to get the weight off of Joyce when
we heard a gurgle and a rumble and Joyce looked
on in horror as a stream of orange bile erupted
from the depths of Winnie Taggert. A half of a
bag of chips and who knows how many diet cokes
covered Joyce from head to toe.
“UGH!” Lula said. “Guess I won’t be
eating any Doritos for awhile.”
We
finally
got Winnie upright again
leaving poor Joyce in shock, gagging and crying
on the front step.
The poor UPS driver who had witnessed
the disaster rushed up to us as we got to my car.
“I hope my dolly is OK. I need it back
NOW,” he said.
“Look buster,” I replied. “If you want your
dolly back, help us get our fugitive into the trunk
of my car.” and I popped the lid. My car may have
its shortcomings, but it has a huge trunk.
As we looked at Winnie and at the trunk
Lula remarked, “Good thing we took your car. Her
fat ass wouldn’t of fit in my trunk.”
We untied Winnie and the three of us
rolled her into the trunk. WHOOSH! The shocks
dropped to the springs and the back end of the car
came to rest with the tailpipe touching the ground.
The poor UPS guy looked at his dolly that
was covered with orange glop. “What am I gonna
do with that!” he wailed.
I reached into my pocket and handed him a
quarter. “There’s a carwash three blocks away.
Here, it’s on me. The City of Trenton thanks you
very much for your help.”
Boy, will he have a story to tell back at the
garage.
We closed the lid, jumped in the car and
took off. All the way to the police station sparks
shot out of rear end of my car as the tailpipe
dragged along. A big brown turd, rolling down the
street with sparks coming out its ass. So much for
being inconspicuous. Lula hunkered a lot on the
way back.
We pulled into the police lot. I parked and
went into the booking desk. Carl was on duty.
“I may need a little help with this one,” I
said. “Any chance we can get a couple of uniforms
out there?”
The officers came out. Most know me and
delight in giving me a hard time. Today was no
exception.
“Whatcha got in the turdmobile,
Stephanie?” Murphy asked.
“A little present for you guys,” I replied,
and I popped the trunk.
“JESUS! What’s that smell?” Murphy said
as he gagged. “You bounty hunters can bring ‘em
back dead or alive. I think this one’s been dead for
awhile. I’m not touching that.”
“I just bring ‘em in,” I said. “After they hit
this parking lot, they’re all yours.”
I went back to the booking desk and picked
up my body receipt. ONE DOWN!!

Encouraged by
the fact that we
had
actually brought in an FTA the first time around,
we were ready for round two.

I pulled the next file. The FTA was Wally
Beaker. A single guy, 32 years old who had been
picked up for indecent exposure and urinating in
public. He ran a small bookkeeping office and
lived in a small efficiency in the back.

“Sounds to me like we got us one of them
Pee Wee Herman types,” Lula said. “Let’s go get
the little pervert.”

We pulled up in front of the bookkeeping
office and a sign on the door said ‘OPEN’.
“We’re in luck,” I said. “Let’s get this over
with, and please, let me do the talking.”
We entered the office. It was a large room
with two chairs for clients and a small divider that
separated the client area from an office desk. A
small bell sat on the counter with a sign that read
‘Ring bell for service’. I stepped up and gave the
bell a couple of dings. No answer. I dinged it
again and from somewhere in the rear of the
building a wavering voice came back, “Please
have a seat. I’ll be right with you.”
A few minutes passed and a small neatly
dressed man appeared from the back room. Lula
wasn’t far off from her Pee Wee Herman
description although on second look
he
more
resembled
Mr.
Peepers.
Your
typical
CPA/bookkeeper.
“Good morning ladies,” he said. Then he
grimaced, bent forward, grabbed his back and let
out a low moan. After a few seconds he tried to
stand upright and managed an obvious
forced
smile. “How may I help you today.”
“Wally Beaker?” I asked and he nodded
yes. “My name is Stephanie Plum and my
associate and I are bond enforcement agents. It
appears that you missed your court date. We’re
here to
help you set a new
date
and get rebonded.”
His head drooped, he sighed, and again
doubled over, grabbing his back.
“Are you OK?” I asked.
“Not really,” he replied. “I’m having a bit
of a medical situation. Nothing life threatening,
but really uncomfortable. I’m really sorry about
missing my court date. I run a respectable business
here and I was just too embarrassed to go. If it gets
around that was arrested for indecent exposure,
my business will suffer.”
“Well it’s your own damn fault,” Lula
barged in. “If you’d keep your business zipped up
in your pants, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“See,” Wally replied, “already you have
prejudged me as some kind of sexual deviant. I’m
just a bookkeeper, for Chrissake. I’ve never had so
much as a parking ticket. --I’m –Ugh – Ugh, just
going through a personal crisis right now.”
“Wally, let me explain how the system
works,” I said. “You’re a CPA. If a client tells you
he won’t pay his taxes, will the IRS just forget
about it?”
He shook his head.
“Well it’s the same thing. You were
arrested and given a court date that you skipped.
It’s like missing an IRS audit. Get the picture?
You can’t just ignore this. It will only get worse. If
you don’t reschedule, the judge will issue a bench
warrant for your arrest. How would you like to be
sitting here with clients and have the police come
and take you away in handcuffs? How would that
be for business?”
He started to respond, but as he did his
eyes glassed over, he bent double again, emitting a
low moan.
“What in the world is wrong with you?” I
asked.
“It’s kind of personal,” he replied. “I’m in
the process of passing kidney stones and its really
messed up my life.”
“Oh shit,” Lula said. “When I was a ho, I
had a pimp who had them stones. He moaned and
groaned for days. We had to pump him full of
Valium to keep him from screaming. He finally
passed them. It was like shooting BBs out his
pecker.”
“Isn’t there something we can do to make
this go away?” Wally asked. “Let me tell you what
happened so you won’t think I’m a pervert. I
started getting these severe pains in my back and
side and I
had to pee
almost constantly
and
sometimes without warning. The doctor sent me
for a CT scan that confirmed I had kidney stones.
There is nothing to do but tough it out until they
pass. I was leaving the doctor’s office which is
downtown when my bladder started screaming at
me and I knew if I didn’t relieve myself I’d be
wetting
myself right there
on the street, so I
ducked down an alley, got behind a big dumpster
where no one could see me, pulled my pants down
and begin to urinate. Just then a back door from
one of the offices on the street opened and a girl
came out with a bag of trash for the dumpster. She
saw me there fully exposed, dropped the bag of
trash and started screaming.”
“Well I can dig that,” Lula said. “If some
Dude was standing by my trash can with his
wanger in his hand, I’d scream too.”
“That’s not the worst part,” Wally moaned.
“Just when she started screaming, a cop was
walking by the entrance to the alley. As he ran up
to us, the girl pointed to my private part, still
straining to find relief. The cop tackled me, cuffed
me, and stood me up. There I was with my hands
behind my back and my winkie still hanging out.
It was so embarrassing.”
“I think I may have a solution for you,” I
said. “You’ve never been arrested and have no
previous history of sexual perversion. What we
have here is a case of extenuating circumstances--actually a medical emergency.”
“That’s right,” Lula chimed in. “I’ve heard
of pregnant women riding a bus and their water
breaks and they go into labor. There they are with
their
legs all
spread out and their
doodah all
hanging out for everyone to see, but thereain’t no
one
arresting
her
cause
its,
like
she
said,
extenuating circumstances, a medical emergency.”
“Do you think that would work?” Wally
asked.
“I’m sure it would,” I replied. “You should
get a
letter
from your
doctor explaining
your
condition. What happened that day has a logical
explanation. I’ll bet the charges will be dropped.
But you will have to go to court to explain. I think
your clients will understand and forgive kidney
stones. But now, we’ll have to take you downtown
to reschedule.”
“Shall I cuff him?” Lula asked.
“Doesn’t look that dangerous to me,” I
replied. “Let’s give him a break. He’s been
through enough embarrassment.”
“Hang on a second,” Wally said. “I have to
get a few things and lock up.” He came back a few
minutes later with a set of keys in one hand and a
strainer in the other.
“What the hell you gonna do with that
strainer?” Lula asked.
“Until the stones pass, I have to pee
through this strainer. It will catch the stone and the
doctor will send it off to be analyzed. Apparently
there are several kinds of stones.”
So, Wally locked up, we all piled in the
turdmobile and headed
for
the police
station.
Wally’s office was just across the river from the
downtown area. It wasn’t a long bridge, but it was
narrow. Just wide enough for one lane of cars each
direction. We had just reached the bridge when a
scream erupted from the backseat.
“ OH GOD, it’s coming, I can feel it!”
Wally screamed. “Quick pull over. I’ve got to get
out of the car. Oh God, my pecker’s on fire! I’m
gonna piss all overmyself and the car if you don’t
let me out.”
I quickly reviewed my options and decided
my poor car had enough problems without the
back seat smelling like a urinal, so I flipped on the
flashers and pulled to
the side of the
bridge.
Unfortunately there wasn’t enough room for the
traffic behind me to pass, so the whole bridge full
of cars came to a grinding stop. Wally jumped out
of the back seat, strainer
in hand and started
working on his zipper.
So there we were, a big brown turd stopped
in the middle of the bridge, traffic honking up a
storm behind us, and Wally on the side of the road
with his flinger out, pissing through a strainer.
So much for being inconspicuous.
We
heard
a
blood curdling
scream, a
pause, and Wally exclaiming, “I got it, I got it. It’s
out!”
Wally tucked himself back in and headed
for the car proudly carrying his strainer and kidney
stone. The car directly behind us suddenly laid on
his horn startling Wally and the strainer fell from
his hand and the precious stone rolled under the
turdmobile.
“Oh no,” Wally shouted, and he was down
on his hands and knees under the car retrieving his
errant kidney stone.
Lula was hunkered down and I have to
admit, I had hunkered some myself. We looked at
each other, rolled our eyes and Lula muttered, “He
outta name that damn thing Mick Jagger, cause it
sure as hell is a Rolling Stone.”
All’s well that ends well. We got Wally
back in the car. I called Connie at the office and
had her meet us at the station to bond Wally out.
Connie took Lula back to the office and I drove
Wally home.
On the way back, I had a very satisfied
feeling as I reflected on the day’s events. We had
delivered two FTA’s without anyone getting shot
or maimed. I had two paychecks in my pocket, and
Joyce
had gotten slimed with Dorito
puke. It
doesn’t get much better than that.