by Douglas Cobb
He was glued to the T.V., watching the election results intently when I walked in to see how he was doing--or, so I thought.
"What are you doing watching 'When Pets Go Bad,' Fuzzy? I thought you just wanted to watch the mayoral election results, not pick up tips on bad behavior from animals even Cesar Milan would throw his hands up in frustration trying to reach!" I said to him.
"Oh, that," Fuzzy Wally MacGee said. "I'm kinda bored with all that yimmer-yammer stuff, and 'I promise dis if I be electrified,' or 'I promise dat.' I just want to be plain ol' me, Fuzzy Wally MacGee, and help out with PAWS whenever you need me!"
"Well, that's nice to know on the night of the stinkin' election!" I roared. "How are the results coming along, though? Are you still ahead of Kit Jorgenson?"
"The results?" Fuzzy asked, confusedly. "Didn't you hear yet, Lily?"
"What?" I asked. "Hear what, Fuzzy? Tell me this second, or I swear I'll--"
"Hold on to your britches, girl fri-end! Never mind; you're not wearing any--anyway, Lily, the election is technically over. I did end ahead of Mit Burgerbun, but someone got a ton of write-in votes and beat me, Lily, by a landslide," Fuzzy Wally MacGee said.
"Well, who, dawg?" I demanded. "Tell me who!"
"There was something about blah, blah 'Man of the Year,' blah, blah 'a credit to his community,' blah, blah 'donated more money to worthwhile causes than anyone else in Centralia, including potentially millions of dollars in solid gold Spanish tresaure,' blah, blah--um--Quentin Quintilius Quince, whoever he is! At least I came in second--"
"Wha-wha-what?" I asked, dumbfounded. Smoke was practically pouring out of my ears. It was fantastic, stupendous new, but totally unexpected by me. I also felt bad for Fuzzy Wally MacGee--he really had tried so hard. But, he didn't seem distraught about it--in fact, he seemed actually glad he hadn't won, because now he wouldn't be stuck with a job he thought was dull and boring.
I roared and roared, in exultation. Celeste, Clare, Triple Q, and all of Celeste's friends came running into my best-est friend's bedroom to see what the matter was, thinking that possibly some of the Scarlet Mafia were attacking. I was jumping up and down, watching the big news story about the election continue to unfold.
"Well, I'll be!" Triple Q said, startled. Then, the phone started ringing, probably the media calling to interview him, or someone telling him that the results were official, and asking him how it felt to be the new mayor of Centralia.
"That's right," Clare said. "It looks like you will be--the new mayor!" She laughed and gave him a hug and kissed him.
"I don't think I'm going to be getting much sleep tonight, or for a long time to come," Triple Q said. "The people of Centralia have spoken, and it seems as if I have a new job!"
"So you're taking the job?" Celeste asked. "You're not going to turn it down?"
"Yes to your first question, and no to your second one," her father said. "For the better or worse, you're looking at the new mayor of Centralia!"
Everyone there cheered. The phone didn't stop ringing for the rest of the night. What a day, the most memorable Valentine's Day in my life...that is, it was, until...but that's a story best left for another day. Benny the Beak turned our lives upside down; with Celeste's advice, we discovered a treasure trove of solid gold hearts in our backyard; Benny crashed Celeste's Valentine's Day party; Fuzzy both won and lost an election, and Triple Q did win one.
Chapter Eighteen
Irish Spring
March didn't roar in like a lion; it roared more like a terrier-dactyl. The weather was unseasonably warm, Spring was in the air, and Centralia was being hit by the stormy remnants of Hurricane Danielle. "Dani Girl," as the hurricane has come to be known (after the song "Danny Boy"), had caused extensive flooding and a high death toll in the panhandle of Florida, Alabama, and Louisiana, before finally reaching Arkansas as a tropical storm. Still, there were at least six tornadoes that developed, three of which touched down in Arkansas, and the Arkansas River was in danger of breaching the dam that barely held it at bay.
I was riding the storm out, listening to Adele singing "Someone Like You," on the stereo while Clare Clooney-Quince was showing Celeste pictures in her photo album of some of Cel's Irish relatives, which she had on both sides of her family, the Clooneys and the Quinces.
"I didn't know I had so many relatives," Celeste said. "but, as much as I like looking at these pictures of them, Mom, I don't really actually know most of them, so if it's okay with you, can this be the last photo album we look at today?"
"It's important you learn about your past, though," Clare said, "your heritage. Some of these relatives--most of them--are still living in Ireland, and have never left there in their lives. You may never get to see them in person, so this is the only way you can learn about them."
"Who's this very short person dressed in green with a buckle on his hat?" Celeste asked.
"Why, uh, that's your Great Uncle Shane O'Finnagan, Cel. The family usually doesn't talk much about him, because, you see...there's no other way to put this...he's somewhat eccentric. He believes he's a Leprechaun, dear."
"He believes he's a--a Leprechaun?"
"Yes, that's right; a Leprechaun. His favorite holiday, other than James Joyce's birthday, is St. Patrick's Day. He just loves March 17th. He plays his fiddle, drinks his green beer, searches for rainbows, and he loves watching the St. Patrick's Day Parade."
"And, what about his pot o' gold, Mom?"
"His what now?" Clare asked. "Oh, very funny, Cel! You shouldn't belittle a crazy person, especially one who's your own relative!"
"I don't have to 'belittle' him, Mom--he's already little enough!"
"Oh, snap!" Clare exclaimed.
"Mom, don't ever say that again!" Celeste indignantly said. "Whatever became of Shane?" That's Great Uncle Shane to you. I don't think that anyone really knows for sure, but he just sort of disappeared from sight one day and wasn't heard from again."
"Are you sure he 'disappeared'? It would be easy to misplace someone his size. Maybe he was swept down a rain gutter and got washed out to sea."
"That's just being disrespectful, Cel. For all we know, he might be dead. You shouldn't talk like that. Or, who knows? He might turn up tomorrow. He was always that type of person--always full of little surprises," Clare said.
"What other kind would he be full of?" Celeste asked.
Just then, I heard a screeching noise from the backyard that sounded like a cat being skinned alive. I went to investigate, and just before I found myself in a burlap sack, breathing in something that made me almost instantaneously unconscious, I thought I saw (but maybe I imagined it) wee tiny green shoes with buckles on them. Then, all was black.
That is, all was black until I woke up, bound to a stone table, alongside my good friend, Fuzzy Wally MacGee, who was bound to another one next to me. Yes, and we both had maple syrup over us, that SNURFLES had undoubtedly poured on us, and there were very wicked-looking sharp scythes over our necks that were slowly approaching closer and closer. And, don't forget the red fire ants, Dear Readers--I know I didn't. And the scene still haunts me to this very day.
The cat that had squirted me and Fuzzy Wally MacGee with eau de skunk perfume months ago, when the Case of the Scarlet SNURFLES began, had been the one who lured us both into being captured. The situation was bleak, and all hope seemed to be lost. At least, we hadn't also been gagged. The scarlet SNURFLES had probably thought it didn't matter much, as we wouldn't be around much longer to say anything, anyway.
Not to disturb an incredibly dramatic moment, but "In your face, scarlet SNURFLES, wherever you are!" I and Fuzzy Wally MacGee, of course, survived, or I wouldn't be writing these words now. Despite a persistent rumor that got picked up and blown all out of proportion by FATE magazine (generally a very reputable news and celebrity gossip source), I did not die to be replaced by an exact double, like what happened in the case of Paul McCartney of the Beatles and Wings. Not to say that Paul was ever tied to a stone t
ablet.....
But, I'll admit there were some rather shaky moments, until....
Have you ever been stung by a single red fire ant, my friends? Let me tell you if you haven't, it sucks! If you're either allergic to their painful stings or you get stung by maybe a thousand or so of them, you can possibly die from their venom. They cling on with their mandibles, and sting a person maybe seven or eight times in a circle. I wouldn't recommend getting stung by them as one of the most pleasant ways to shuffle off this mortal coil, to take a one-way ride on the Marble Bus, to visit the Marble Orchard, to push up daisies, to--the heck with it--die.
Of course, getting your head sliced off your neck by a razor-sharp scythe is not exactly my idea of the perfect way to spend a fun weekend, either.
"Don't be afraid, Lily," my friend Fuzzy said to me. "We'll be rescued before the angry ants swarm all over us, and sting us until we swell up, go into shock, and die horribly. We'll be rescued before the sharp knifey thingamabobs go slicey-slicey to our throats and spill our life's blood onto the ground. We'll be--"
"Hold on to that train of thought, Fuzzy--I don't think I can stand to hear any more about how we'll 'be rescued'--just what is it that makes you so certain that will happen?" I asked.
"Why, because of the Leprechaun who told me 'help is on the way, so don't worry.'" Fuzzy replied, confidently.
"Fuzzy, I hate to tell you this, but it could very well be that Leprechauns are exactly the people who kidnaped us, tied us to these stone tablets, and left us to die!" I roared.
I couldn't help it--I didn't want to get mad at one of my dearest friends, especially when these might be our final moments alive on this earth; but, sometimes it's a tad difficult to try to maintain one's composure. Like, for instance, when you're about to kick the bucket.
"Oh, no, Lily--it tweren't the Leprechauns that did this to us--though some evil ones were involved in getting us here--it was the Scarlet SNURFLES and the Scarlet Mafia, workin' together to destroy PAWS and rob the Centralia Museum of Ancient Antiquities of the Spanish treasure of solid gold hearts. They just wanted to get to it before the Leprechauns did, and try to trick the evil ones out of gettin' any of the gold."
"And how can you be so positive about that, Fuzzy? Just tell me how!"
"Well," Fuzzy said calmly, as if he wasn't mere inches away from dying, "because, Number One, a Leprechaun told me that 'help was on the way,' and B, Frankie Sinister mentioned to some other Macaws about their plan as they were bringing me here in their nice Travel Sack."
"Travel Sack?" I asked.
"That's what they called it, yes sirree, or pardon me, yes, Lil-y, and they said they were taking me on a trip, and of course, I got all excited, and thought they were trying to be my friends. Um...but, they weren't, apparently. If I didn't know any better, Lily, I might think that they were lying."
"That's because they were lying!" I said. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"
"You didn't ask," Fuzzy said.
****
Later on, Celeste informed me about what happened when she, Clare, and Triple Q discovered I was missing. They searched for me all over the neighborhood, yelling my name, and they became increasingly worried when they couldn't find me anywhere. Celeste's Mom called the Centralia Animal Shelter to see if I'd been picked up and taken there, while Triple Q kept searching, but they told her they didn't have any "dog" matching my unique description.
Then, crying on her bed in her bedroom, Celeste heard a tapping at her window. She thought at first it might be Frankie trying to spring Benny the Beak from his cage, but that actually had already occurred, though she wouldn't learn that until a short while later.
"Pssst!" came a voice. She glanced up, and saw that the voice belonged to a Leprechaun, and not just any Leprechaun, but one who she recognized immediately from having seen his photo earlier in the day. You guessed it, it was her Great Uncle Shane O'Finnagan!
Startled by the sudden appearance of a person she'd never seen in person before, and who claimed to be a Leprechaun, and whom her own mother had said had 'disappeared,' and whom she'd thought she'd never see except in a photo, she gasped. Then, she cautiously headed to the window and said: "Great Uncle O'Finnagan?"
"Well, I ain't chopped liver!" her Great Uncle Shane O'Finnagan said. "It's nice to see you--you're a sight for sore eyes, indeed! I didn't think I'd see my niece this side o' Paradise, Cel, but I guess that's what I get fer thinkin'!
"I'd like to stand here and gab with ye all day, Cel, dearest, but I be havin' news fer ye concerin' a certain pet of yers, a terrier-dactyl, I believe she be called, by the name of Lily, and his friend, Fuzzy Wally MacGee."
"You have news about them? Are they safe?" Celeste asked through the window.
"Come on out here, and I'll tell you all about it, Cel--but you have to hurry! There's not much time left!" O'Finnagan said to her.
"'Time left' for what?"
"Time left for Lily and Fuzzy to live," her Great Uncle Shane O'Finnagan replied.
After she grabbed a light blue jacket and joined him, O'Finnagan told her they had to be hurrying to get to the place where Lily and Fuzzy where, but it might be good if they picked up a couple of "reinforcements" along the way. Those "reinforcements," of course, were Prince Alphonse Saed and Lucy Marmoset Higgins.
How did Shane and Celeste get Lucy and Prince Alphonse Saed to agree to go with them, and how did they reach us in time to save us? I've found from past dealings with the Fae that it's not wise to question them too closely about their magic. But, Fonz was reluctant, initially, to go with Shane and Celeste, as he is not very fond of Leprechauns and likes to chase them down holes (the kind with sharp pointy sticks at the bottom of them). Or into fires. Or into deep pits of water they can't climb out of--places like that. He "yowled," his Mountain Lion rage at Shane, and tried to catch him, until Celeste used her martial arts skills to restrain him and tell him that this was one Leprechaun that was on their side, and one who, they had to trust, if they wanted to ever see Lily and Fuzzy alive again.
And, indeed, Great Uncle Shane was the only way they could get to us--either him, or some other Leprechaun who happened to be on the side of Law & Order and somehow managed to restrain his lust for gold long enough to save us. So, that's what I mean when I say Shane was the only Leprechaun who could save us. He only offered his help because of his Grand Niece, Celeste--blood is thicker than water, you know. We were being held in a dimension or realm outside of our own. That's because some evil Leprechauns had teamed up with the SNURFLES and the Scarlet Mafia. This explained why I had thought I'd seen a pair of Leprechaun shoes when I was waylaid and found myself in what Fuzzy Wally MacGee called a "Travel Sack." No human nor animal could have managed to cross over to where we were and have rescued us--not without the aid of a magical being like a Leprechaun.
"Quick, here's my knife, Cel--use it to cut the ropes and set Lily and Fuzzy free!" her Great Uncle said the very second they materialized through whatever doorway, wormhole, vortex, or cosmic portal they'd come through, "while your other friends and I take care of a very personal score!"
Celeste hacked away at the thick ropes while Shane, Lucy, and Alphonse battled the five evil Leprechauns and ten agents of SNURFLES who had been left to make certain there was no chance we could escape our planned cruel demises.
Alphonse kept the nasty Leprechauns at bay with his expertise at twirling and using his nunchucks. Shane and Lucy were always up for a fight, as well, and Celeste's Great Uncle proved he had earned the Leprechauns' version of the Golden Gloves for boxing that he later told me about by battering his opponents unmercifully. Lucy swung her powerful forearms and paws like clubs, delivering haymakers with the force of ball peen hammers, and shouting things like: "Boo-yah!" and "Another one bites the dust, suckers!"
And then, the ropes parted, and I was released, and I unleashed my fury on the wee evil cabbages (pardon my foul language) and the scarlet feathered fiends who'd almost killed me and my friend, Fuzzy (after us
ing my pyrokinetic powers to burn the ropes that confined Fuzzy to his stone table, of course--I didn't want to cheat him of either his life nor the pleasure of getting his revenge). While a singed the tail feathers of several of the scarlet Macaws and made them take flight, I also noticed Celeste pulling down the hats over a couple of the Leprechaun's eyes and punching their noses, sending them to the ground. I roared: "Way to go, Celeste! Whoop, whoop! Hit them again, chica!"
When Fuzzy was also freed, he said: "No more Distractin' for me!" and did his famous Rhino Charge he'd perfected while playing rugby, knocking Leprechauns and birds flying like they were bowling ball pins hit by a cannon ball. Needless to say (but I will), we made short work of the guards, even though we were outnumbered. The Leprechauns, with scarlet Macaws on either shoulder, Zapped! themselves away before we could do any more damage to them, through dimensional gateways they'd opened.
That was the end of them, at least for now. Fuzzy and I thanked our rescuers profusely, and then Shane transported us all back to our individual homes. But, before he did, he told us: "The evil Leprechauns, scarlet SNURFLES, and scarlet Mafia were trying to get rid of you so you wouldn't be able to interfere in their upcoming plan to happen on March 17th
"That's correct, boys--er--and gals--as we Leprechauns are fond o' sayin', in order to not have our pots o' gold stolen, we need to 'Be Ever Vigilant'! On March 17th, they are goin' to attempt the audacious crime o' both stealin' the Spanish solid gold hearts from the Centralia Field Museum of Ancient Antiquities and kidnapin' Bono from U2, when they perform at the grand openin' o' the Centralia Events Coliseum!"
"Banana-nana-fana, fi-fe-rama, banana-nana Bono!" Fuzzy sang.
"Hmm...bananas..." Lucy said. "I sure could use one right now! All that fighting gets a girl hungry!"
"Bono's the singer for U2!" Celeste told them.
"U2? I can sing very well on my own, Celeste!" Fuzzy exclaimed.
"She means Bono is the singer for the band called U2, not that he will sing for you, two," I explained.
