Chapter 7

Red thought this was fairly humorous, seeing Squiggy shooting at a car in the Bank of Langford's repo lot.

There was just one thing she didn't understand.

"How come you're shooting that Corsica?" she said.

Squiggy paused for a second. Across the street, house lights were coming on. A light was coming on in the car parked behind his truck, not that he noticed.

"I'm a shootin your car, Red," Squiggy said.

"That ain't my car, you doofus," she said. "Mine's the one over by the shed."

It was a small Plymouth with the front end smashed in and all the glass shattered. "That your car?" Squiggy said.

"Yep."

"You shoulda been glad the bank hauled it off for you and saved you the wrecker bill."

"That ain't nice, Squiggy."

"Naw, but it's the truth."

"Shoot my car!"

"It ain't worth wasting a bullet on. I'm a gonna take out that fancy truck over there."

Squiggy pulled the trigger, but was out of ammo. Darn the luck. He started filling up the gun with more bullets, whistling an old Billy Ray Cyrus tune in the process.

"Ugh!" Red said. "That's a Cyrus song!"

"So?"

"I thought only homos liked him?"

"It ain't that I like him, I just heard this song earlier and it's been on my mind."

"He's got it in his CD player," Mule said.

Squiggy cast his new buddy a dirty look. That just wasn't very good backup. He shook his head and took aim at the Ford truck in the middle of the lot.

Mule was the first one to notice the visitor. "Uh, Squiggy..."

"Don't bother me," he said. "I'm fixing to shatter me a windshield."

"I'd just as soon you didn't do that," the man said, emerging from the dark.

He was a short man with an immense belly. The shield pinned to his shirt was shining brightly thanks to the street light. The man had his hand poised over the pistol in his belt. He had on a new cowboy hat that was too big, causing it to constantly slide down over his eyes.

"Squiggy, it's the cops!" Red said.

"So, tell em to kiss my hind end."

"I think you just told em," Mule said.

"Which cop is it," Squiggy said, without lowering his gun.

"Some fat one," Mule said.

"Hey, I ain't that fat!" Police Chief Arnold argued. He had an immense chaw of tobacco in his left cheek, one so big that Mule was surprised he didn't have stretch marks on his face. "I got problems with my thyroid."

"Whatta you want, Porky?" Squiggy said.

"I can't have you firing a loaded weapon at the cars in the bank's repo lot," Chief Arnold said.

"Would you rather he fired an unloaded weapon?" Red said.

"You betcha."

"He couldn't break no windshields without a bullet," Mule said.

"That's kinda the idear," Chief Arnold said. His words were badly slurred. He spit out enough spit to fill up a coffee cup.

"It's fun!" Squiggy said. "Come here and give it a try."

"I can't do that, Squiggy. I could lose my job."

"Who's gonna tell? You can trust us."

Chief Arnold looked around. He knew Squiggy wouldn't tell anybody, but wasn't too sure about the others. The red-haired chick had been in a lot of trouble while the tall dork looked too stupid to ever blackmail anybody.

"Is it fun?" he said.

"A blast," Squiggy said and handed over his rifle.

"This here's a nice weapon," Chief Arnold said. "I remember the last time you pawned it I had my eyes on her, hoping you didn't come back and get it."

"I ain't gonna lose the deerinator," Squiggy said.

"Your what?"

"The deerinator, that's what I calls my gun."

"That's kinda a dumb name," Red said.

"Shut up, Red, or I'll tell Porky here what you did earlier."

"Don't do that, Squiggy! I'll shut up."

"Good, go sit with Mule in the truck. Maybe he'll let you get frisky."

"I'd rather you not call me 'Porky'," Chief Arnold said. "That's a sign of disrespect."

"I thought you liked that name."

Chief Arnold leaned close. "I don't care if you call me that if it's just us, but not with other people around. I don't want everybody in the dang town callin me that."

Squiggy leaned in close. "Okay, Porky."

"Much better," Chief Arnold said. "Ain't nobody heard you that time. Ever get your dirty books back?"

"Naw, the turd says he doesn't have a clue where they are."

Chief Arnold sighted in the windshield of a Dodge Dakota and fired off a round, shattering the windshield.

"Whooeee!" he said. "Let me shoot another!"

"They's all broke now," Squiggy said.

"Dernit! Hey, I bet your dirty books are in that shed."

"The one the bank has in the back?"

"Yep."

The two men stared at the shed at the back of the lot. A tall fence with a locked gate standing between them and visions of women minus their clothes.

"I got me a cutter," Chief Arnold said.

"Ain't that against the law?" Squiggy said.

"Son, I's the law round here." Chief Arnold laughed as he headed back toward his car.

Squiggy thought this was too cool. The town's police chief was going to help him break into the bank's repo pen to try and rescue his Playboy collection.

"I thought you liked the bank?" Squiggy said.

"Naw, they nabbed my boy's four-wheeler the other day," he said. "Right before huntin season!"
"That ain't right," Squiggy said. "Is it in there?"

"Naw, I saw the banker with it loaded up in the back of his truck heading to the woods."

"That's bullcrap, Porky! You shoulda arrested him."

"I gave him a ticket," Chief Arnold said proudly.

"What for?"

"Reckless drivin. He had to swerve to avoid a puppy."

Squiggy nodded. "Hurry up and get them cutters. I need a beer."

"Got some whiskey in the car," Chief Arnold said. He was rummaging around in the trunk.

"Really?"

"Sure, it's under the seat."

"Mind if I take a horn?" Squiggy said.

"Knock yourself out. I got another bottle in the glove department."

"Compartment?"

"Whatever."

Squiggy found several bottles of whiskey, vodka and rum in the floorboard.

"Where'd you get all this booze?" he said.

"Drunks."

"They just give you their booze?"

Chief Arnold pulled himself out of the trunk with the cutters. He snapped them together for practice. "Naw, it's either they give me their booze or I bust their butt."

"Man, that's just too cool."

The police chief looked over at Squiggy's truck. The windows were a little fogged over and only one head was visible.

"Oy, I think they's gettin busy in your truck," the chief said.

"Yeah, Red's been wanting a piece of that all night."

They continued walking toward the huge gate. There was a round lock on the gate, one that is almost impossible to cut.

"That boy really got a big unit?" Chief Arnold said.

"Big ain't the right word for it," Squiggy said. "It scared me more than some of the chicks I've woke up with."

"Must be bad," the chief said. He tried to cut the lock, but had no luck. "Ain't gonna work."

Squiggy stepped back and thought about the problem for a few seconds. "We could cut the fence."

Chief Arnold considered the suggestion. Finally, he nodded. "Let's do it in the back."

"That's probably what Red's telling Mule."

That comment slipped over the chief's head for several seconds. Then, he started giggling slowly before it proceeded into a laugh so intense that he doubled over and had to grasp the fence for support.

"Ooh! In the back, aw, crap, I think I peed myself!"

Squiggy looked down. "Does look like you dribbled a bit."

They started walking around toward the back of the lot. He noticed the truck was rocking heavily. Psycho was a little concerned and was barking. The two men made their way back behind the shed and started cutting the fence.

"Ain't this fun?" Chief Arnold said.

"A blast," Squiggy said. "Boy, I hope my Playboys are in there!"

"You gotta let me borrow some."

"Okay, just as long as you promise not to mess up the pages."

"I won't." The chief finished cutting a huge hole in the fence, one large enough to almost drive a vehicle through.

They climbed into the repo lot and walked over to the shed, It had a lock on it, also. The bolt cutters were way too big for such a small lock.

"Darn the luck!" Chief Arnold said. "Whatta we gonna do?"

"Shoot it."

"Shoot my willie?"

"Naw, Porky, the lock. You gotta pistol."

"Oh yeah, I forgot." He pulled his pistol out of the holster and aimed at the lock. "Step back, Squiggy!"

The first shot was a good six inches off, despite shooting from less than two feet away. The second one was even worse.

"Man, Porky, you can't shoot for..."

"Think you can do better?" Chief Arnold said, interrupting Squiggy.

"Heck yes, gimme the gun."

Chief Arnold handed over the pistol. Squiggy examined it for a few seconds. "Not a bad weapon. If I was a cop, I'd get me one of them Dirty Harry guns."

"I tried. The city manager wouldn't let me."

"What an anus. Here we go."

Squiggy fired once, shattering the lock. He pulled the lock away from the hinge, freeing the door. The door swung open on its own.

"Lemme get my flashlight," Chief Arnold said.

"I'll just use the lights," Squiggy said. He turned the overhead light on and the two men's jaws dropped open. They had just stepped into their own personal hog heaven.

Chapter 8