Uncle Brucker the Rat Killer by Leslie Peter Wulff

Author:Leslie Peter Wulff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Uncle Brucker the Rat Killer
Publisher: Night Shade Books
Published: 2017-06-26T04:00:00+00:00

64

I saw Kip driving alone on Center Street and I followed him to Mid-City Lanes. He parked his little Mazda 3 in the lot. I parked the Eagle on the street where he couldn’t see me. I watched him get out and when he walked across the lot I came up behind him.

He heard me and turned around. I socked him in the jaw first thing and tried to get him in a headlock, but that didn’t work and he tripped me and knocked me down on the concrete but I flipped him and now I had him face down with my knee on his back.

“Time out! Time out!” Kip said. “Let me up, will ya? I ain’t fightin’ you no more.”

“You don’t have a choice,” I said.

“No more fightin’ till I know why we’re fightin’,” he said. “It’s dumb fightin’ somebody you don’t know what for.”

“My Uncle’s War Medal, that’s why. You were lookin’ at it at the party and I want it back.”

“Lookin’ ain’t no crime.”

“You were lookin’ to steal,” I said. “Hand it over.”

“Listen, dude. If I took that Medal I’d get up and punch your creepy face in. But I don’t see no point in fightin’ over somethin’ I didn’t do. You wanna fight, find out who took it. Or come at me for what I did do.”

I let Kip go and we got up on our feet. He was breathing hard, making wheezing noises as he tried to catch his breath.

He sat on the fender of a silver Accord and wheezed and looked me over.

“You put up a good fight for a little guy,” he said with a smile.

“I ain’t little, I just look little. Man, I’m hungry.”

“You ain’t hungry like me.”

“I could eat a medium pie with extra cheese,” I said.

“Dogs are good too,” he said.

Around the corner, we ate Texas footlongs at Scotty’s Dog House. I dumped on a heap of kraut and squeezed out lots of mustard. It’s the way I like it. Kip squirted mustard on his dog and he put ketchup on it too. I never heard of ketchup on a dog before, but Kip got around. He was an OK guy and no longer a suspect. Last year he went to Paris with his parents for two weeks and he got to know the country. Ketchup and mustard, it’s how they eat their dogs in France.

What happened to my Uncle’s Medal? He didn’t know, so quit asking. But he knew someone who’ll help me out and ten bucks an hour ain’t a lot to ask.

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