completely surrounded, with anchorpersons and reporters all shouting questions at the same time.
"Where's the snake?" cried Laurie Brigger.
"What are you doing with Mr. Wonderful?" intoned Harley Cronman.
"When's the cataclysm set for? Did you find the secret disaster plans?" Kris Kintoja wanted to know.
"Move away!" Officer Biggs shouted, and Officer Hahn joined in as the two tried to push their way down the steps and to the street, but the cameramen and soundmen and talking heads were hemmed in by the cars and vans and a fire engine parked in the street and the tent in the driveway and the circle of ultimate reclaimers. They too were in the midst of some sort of disturbance as there was pushing and shoving coming from inside the big tent, and the white-haired men were shouting warnings or instructions to the couple inside, which turned out to be Blair Hayward and Clarissa Simpson Martel.
Clarissa came rushing out of the tent, stark naked, with her blindfold removed and one slipper dangling from her right foot, screaming that she'd been duped and the whole thing was a setup and they weren't going to get rid of her that easily and they'd be hearing from her lawyer. She was followed by Wyatt's brother-in-law who still had his blindfold attached and staggered into the tent's front flaps, falling down and pitching the whole thing over on its side. The white-haired men struggled to help him to his feet and right the tent, when over all the commotion came the blast of the fire truck's sirens and a voice over a loudspeaker announcing,
"The snake's been caught! The snake's been caught! Everybody to the snake!"
The church members flung off their blindfolds and rushed to the front of the house where Officer Biggs had finally lost her hold on Mr. Wonderful, whose voice it was now blaring from the microphone. She was holding the decoy above her head as the crowd grew thicker around her and various hands began reaching for it. Officer Hahn blew her whistle as loud as she could and called for backup on her walkie-talkie but the crowd only pressed in further.
"Our prayers have been answered," Mr. Wonderful was saying. "The ritual is being fulfilled. Now you must claim the beast. Claim the beast! Claim the beast!"
"Claim the beast," the crowd caught up the chant as even the white-haired men now joined the throng at the door. One of them fought his way through to Officer Biggs and planted himself at her feet.
"I am Archbishop Kantor," he told her. "I am in charge here.”
"No," she told him. "That would be me, so back off.”
"We will not relent," he informed her. "We are here to claim the beast.”
"That's nice," she snapped. "You can all claim your beasts downtown while you're sitting around in County.”
"It must be now," he warned her. "It must be done right away. The snake must be destroyed. It must not get away again.”
"Don't worry," she had to shout to make herself heard from even a foot away. "This thing ain't going nowhere.”
But she spoke too soon. From behind her one of Mr. Wonderful's foot soldiers made a bold leap and grabbed the fake snake from her hand. He tried to dash to the fire engine parked in the street but was brought down like a gazelle by a surprisingly agile white-haired man. Practically before Officer Biggs realized the thing was gone from her grasp, it was already in the hands of Archbishop Kantor, who was oozing it down with some sort of quasi-transparent semi-liquid substance, while the other white-haired men moved in with candles. They were preparing to set it on fire.
"Wait, wait," came the despairing cry of Kris Kintoja, the intrepid reporter from the Frantic News Network. "Don't do anything until we get set up". The Archbishop sighed, and tapped his feet impatiently.
"Okay, go," Kintoja yelled, as she found herself well situated to narrate the entire sequence of events.
"At last the snake will meet its doom," she proclaimed. "From the mighty hands of the Archbishop and his suitably ordained Deacons. So it is written, the snake shall burn in holy flame ..."
"No, no," came the voice of Mr. Wonderful, breaking into the circle of deacons and snatching at the snake, while the Archbishop kicked at him and parried his thrusts.
"The snake is mine," Mr. Wonderful proclaimed. "See this note?"
He waved the little slip of paper in front of the cameras. Somehow he had managed to steal it from Officer Biggs, who by this time had given up and was merely watching from the steps, along with her colleague and Wyatt Lorenzo. The news cameras focused in on the note saying "Property of Mister Wonderful" as he shouted that he had reserved the rights to a one-hour television special featuring the snake, which would of course be impossible if the thing was set on fire.
"Stop this man!," the Archbishop pleaded. "Why is he trying to save the snake? Does he say the snake belongs to him? Is he the Serpent Master then?"
"Of course not," Mr. Wonderful replied, "I'm a talk show host.”
"He's the devil," cried someone in the crowd. Kris Kintoja echoed the sentiment as a query.
"Are we indeed in the very presence of the Evil One?" she gasped. "What a night! What momentous events! We'll be right back after a brief word from our sponsors.”
"I'm not the devil". Mr. Wonderful insisted. "I just want to talk to the thing.”
"Too late!," cried the Archbishop. "The flames of hell will now consume the beast!," and he put the decoy into a little red bucket that one of his deacons was holding out. Another deacon dropped in a lighted match, and whatever the substance was they had smothered the thing in, it was highly flammable. Flames burst from the bucket nearly singeing the Archbishop's fine white hair. The crowd began to cheer and chant a psalm while two other deacons managed to restrain Mr. Wonderful just long enough, and then it was over. The Archbishop dropped the bucket onto the driveway, where it rolled into the street, emptying its contents of ashes along the way to the curb.
News crews hurried to the street to focus in on the now defunct device while church members clapped and laughed and started heading for home. They were getting a bit cold in their pajamas and most of them had completed their part of the ritual. Those who hadn't hung around a bit, hoping to get their turn, but the white-haired men were done for the night, and no more numbers were called.
Within the hour nearly everyone had packed up and left. Officer Biggs and Officer Hahn lingered to make sure that no further crimes were committed and then, after admitting to Wyatt that they had no reason to detain him any longer, they let him go back into his house, declining his offer of a cup of tea or coffee or something. Mr. Wonderful and his entourage were the last to leave the scene. The poor man was worn out and shuffled off in dismay. He had tried, he had tried very hard and he didn't like to lose, but for once in his long and distinguished career, failure was indeed an option.
Seventeen
Later, Wyatt had to admit that all of his friends had been right all along. The whole thing really did “blow over."somehow. He had to move – his landlord was not thrilled with the publicity or the pink paint job – but even that was for the best. He liked where he was living now even better. It was just as quiet and even more convenient for work. True, he didn't get his old job back. The City was understandably reluctant to put him on a different crew, what with the “chump."label and all of that, but Cecilia did come through for him, as Jalopy had promised.
Wyatt wasn't quite as happy as those two, who really did seem meant for each other, as he stood there holding the ring as Jalopy's best man at their wedding. After all, Cecilia had turned out to be Wyatt's special dream girl, the one Jalopy had promised to find, and actually did, even though he kept her for himself. Wyatt just had to move on, and he did, following his Bilj Burnjurd's advice to look up that friendly Officer Hahn. The two were getting along just fine so far.
Wyatt now worked for City Parks and Recreation. He still had to wake up bright and early and drive around, now in an orange truck rather than a blue one, and tend to various infestations, typically in the form of weeds and other such undesirable creatures. Lake Wilhelm was on his regular route, and there were no video cameras tap
ing him when he happened to stop, every now and then, beside a stand of sunflowers or a small scrubby bush, and have an interesting conversation with his mechanical best friend, the former so-called renegade robot.
THE END
Thanks for reading! Reviews and comments of all kinds are always welcome and appreciated. For more Pigeon Weather Productions, please visit https://pigeonweather.wordpress.com
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