Fairfax & Glew number seven.

This series is somehow still going.

Make it stop.

Or just read it.

The Rooster Brewster show was playing, although it must have been a recording since Rooster Brewster’s Morning Bacon came on every morning on the local Hookville TV station. Rooster was standing there in his suit coat and red bow tie that seemed to droop, almost like the beard on a rooster. A giant picture of bacon slices adorned the wall behind Rooster was he spoke. He said, “And that brings me to Treat Beat Epic. Now, I’m sure some of y’all have played this little game at your leisure now and then when you have a little bit of down time.” Then the camera focused hard on Rooster’s face until it was nearly up his nose where he said, “Oh, yeah right. You play it all the time. Don’t you, you fiends? You spend every spare second smashing those treats and raising your levels while sacrificing precious sleep and social activities. You must get to another level! The fate of the planet depends on it! Muahahaha!!”

The camera panned back out.

“Anyway. A recent study indicated that people have much more trouble sleeping now and that could be linked to the game. What do you think, Hookvillians? Is this pastry-packed pandemonium keeping you up to the wee hours? Be sure and post your answer to the survey on our website. And in closing, as always, please take a few extra bucks and give to the finest organization there is- the Benevolent Endeavors for the Needy Defeated. These folks work tirelessly to help out those who have been defeated by society and fate and life itself. So, please, take a stand for BEND.”

Rooster ended his show with, “Now get out there, folks, and get to…makin’…that…bacon…oink…oink…oink…”

Fairfax bowed behind a bush on the side of Glenn the Friend’s house. He waited there, keeping quiet. No one could eliminate distractions like Fairfax. His focus…he could probably move things with his focus. Maybe not a mountain or even a house or perhaps a bath tub, but probably a Darth Vader…action figure. “Well?”

Glew leaned back. “What?”

“What’s the smell? A new cologne?”

“I visited Cindy last night for a follow-up and some things happened that-

“Yeah. All right.”

“What? A follow-up consultation with a client insures additional business.”

“I’m sure it was a purely professional exchange.”

“That sounds dirty, stud.”

Glenn the Friend pulled his car into the driveway, the tires crunching over a Red Bull can. Fairfax ducked down. Glew followed suit. Flashdance’s “She Is a Maniac” jumped from the car speakers. Glenn stepped out of his car and swayed his large hips to the music. Then he turned it off and let out a huge burp that somehow found its way to Glew. Glew winced from the stale coffee stench. Glenn toyed with his keys and slurred, “Sandy…stupid dumb…that woman…that Sandy…stupid…”

Fairfax crept behind Glenn with Glew following. Once Glenn got the door open, he entered his house, swaying. He turned back toward the door. Fairfax lunged in and shoved Glenn back with his boot. Glenn landed in his recliner which rocked back. Glenn jumped back up. Fairfax drove him back into the recliner with another kick. Glenn rose up and said, “I’ll put you in a-

Fairfax cut him off with another kick to the gut, forcing him back into the recliner. Glenn tried again but Fairfax kept repeating the cycle as if Glenn served as an exercise machine. Instead of reps, you could say Fairfax performed Glenns.

Five Glenns later, something struck Glew in the leg. He turned toward the corner. A man emerged from behind the entertainment center. Glew studied him. Then he looked at the object on the floor- peanut butter. Glew picked the jar up off the floor and said, “Dudley?”

Fairfax kicked Glenn down again who tried to get up again but then collapsed into the recliner, wheezing. Fairfax took after Dudley who sprinted down the hall and entered the last bedroom with Fairfax on his heels. A female voice said, “That’s where you stop. Right. There. Get Wally in here.”

Oh God.

Glew kept a few car-lengths between Litterello’s convertible and the gray bull. Litterello only drove twenty over the speed limit. A patrolman sat parked behind a sign in front of a dive on the highway. Glew was only going five over. The patrolman watched Litterello pass by him at least twenty miles over the limit. He yawned. Glew scoffed. “Some law we have around here.”

Fairfax said, “M-hhmm.”

“I thought he would hit the blueberries.”

“Do what?”

“The blueberries. You know how in old movies, they’d say ‘hit the cherries’ since the lights on police cars were red. Now, they’re blue. So they hit the blueberries.”

“Are you still yapping?”

“Whatever, stud.”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe he just doesn’t want you bothering him. He tipped us tonight and he’s always a gentleman. He wears the cool clothes and he drives the Citroen 2CV.” “It’s a French Bug.” “Come on, stud. It’s got style.”

It’s been a good while, but it’s time for another entry into the series! Woohoo!

A nice little promo for Volume Tew!

Glew resumed his seat beside Nicodemus as if they were roommates. He held a box of Goobers toward Fairfax. He shook his head. An episode of The Loins of Our Lives played on the TV where a woman in a black dress and mismatched shoes and sunglasses spoke to a man in a flashy suit and bow tie in a mansion. She said, “But what do you mean, Trucker?”

“Trucker” said, “I cannot help you, Calista. You are blind.”

Calista lowered her head. “Yes.”

“You refuse to see any of your problems- the divorce or the failed merger. You just won’t see.”

“But I can’t see!”

“Exactly.”

“I really cannot see.”

“Yes.”

“No. I am physically blind!”

Trucker removed Calista’s hand from his chest and held it there, saying, “And I am the only surgeon in the world with the powers to heal you, thanks to your ex-husband’s research. But now he’s dead, poisoned accidentally by his own vaccine. Only I can fix you.”

“Please do it!”

“No.”

“But why not?”

“I have eyes for another.”

“I don’t care. You can have her. You can have me, too, even just when you want. I don’t care. I just want my sight back.”

“No. I have physical eyes for another. They will match her but not you. Someday we will find a match for you, too.”

“Oh, and then you’ll fix me.”

“I can…but I won’t.”

Calista drew back. “Why?”

Trucker stepped back from Calista and made a funny face. Calista waited for an answer. He twisted his face into another funny expression. He giggled to himself. She kept waiting. He stuck out his tongue at her. A voice over in Trucker’s voice said, “She can’t know about my secret love for making faces when no one is watching. If I give her sight back to her, I can’t make my funny faces. The world will laugh at me again.”

Calista placed a finger to her mouth and giggled.

“Wait a minute. Why is she giggling? Did she get the operation? Can she really see?”

Calista wore a wide smile now. Then a commercial for glasses came on.

Fairfax huffed and took out a wad of cash along with the keys to the car outside. He snapped his fingers at Nicodemus, who blinked a few times and turned to him. He said, “Oh, hey.”

Cathy pulled her truck door open. The old girl groaned. So did the truck door. She plopped on the driver’s seat and started the engine. The vents belched hot air onto her cheeks. She took off her Fistfiller cap and set it in her lap. She closed her eyes. The heat poured through the beer smell from the plant. She wiped her nose and shut the heater off. She rested on her steering wheel. A few ladies dressed in skirts and heels strode toward their cars. They bounced and giggled and laughed like conspirators. They probably planned to meet up at the Dope Club tonight and party it up. Cathy rubbed her stomach.

Oh, sweet Salon Paus patch…

She shifted the truck into Drive. Someone tapped on her window. She turned and watched the guy standing there. He wore his Fistfiller cap low over his eyes. She rolled down her window and said, “Hey…”

He said, “Chet. How’re you doing?”

“Tired, Chet. You still liking the job?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chet rolled his sleeves up and flexed his arms and said, “With all this exercise, I’m getting bigger than ever.”

She pinched his bicep. “Not bad, youngster.”

“I wanted to thank you again for helping me get on.”

“Well, you can thank George for that. I hear you’re doing good. Keep it up, young buck.”

“Okay. I sure will.”

“I’ll see you later.”

Chet flexed for her again. She drove away. She made it to the stop sign at the end of her street a few minutes later. Stew waved to her from his front porch. She waved back and accelerated. She slowed and looked up at Stew. He smiled toward her. She pulled into his driveway. She drew in a deep breath and dragged onto his front porch. He sat on one chair and offered her the other one. He held a cup of coffee toward her. She said, “Let me see that.”

Stew handed it over and Cathy took a long smell of it. “Lord. Your coffee always smells so good. I try not to drink any after the morning, though.”

“It’s all in my coffee-maker. I designed it myself. I get just the right flavor and oh my goodness. I hook a coffee IV up to my arm every night while I’m asleep.”

She chuckled. “Yes. It’s quite nice.”

“You’ve seen it?”

Dang you, George.

“Um, yeah. You showed it to me one time.”

“That’s right. I’m planning on a heart attack in the next few years. I’ve got my medical bracelet and everything that I sleep in. Once it hits, I’ll back off but until then, I want to maintain my brown blood.”

“Good lord, you’re a mess, Stew.” A couple of teenage boys cruised down the street on skateboards. One jumped up on the skateboard’s edge but he fell off with a bump. The other one laughed at him. They both stared at Cathy. She grinned.

Stew said, “So what’s with you?”

Cathy turned to him. “What?”

Stew set his cup down and pointed at her. “Girly, you’re gonna have to rent them bags under your eyes to me for my next vacation. I carry a lot of primping products because it takes effort to look this good.”

She raised her voice. “Thanks a lot.”

“What’s got you so tired?”

“I don’t know. Work’s been busy. We went to that funeral last night.”

“For that Nuckerbuck fellow.”

“Nate Nuckerbuck, yeah.”

“I heard he wrestled a python.”

“No, it was a crocodile.”

“Ain’t that just like life. One minute, you’re wrestling a python and on top of the world and the next minute, you’re pushing up daisies while some joker robs your house.”

“Yeah, it’s…what?”

Stew sipped his coffee. “Last night, according to one of our fine neighbors. They took the TV and a stereo and some tools and some jewelry and a few other things. A couple of jackets, I think. It’s a real shame.”

Cathy bit her lip. Stew stared at her. She swallowed. “Stew, I need to get. Enjoy your coffee.”

“I’m opening up my vein shortly.”

Cathy got in her truck and drove down the street and stopped in front of a house far down from her own. She made a call. The recipient said, “Yeah?”

“George. How are you doing?”

“I’m rubbing my toe. I stumped it today.”

“Your middle toe?”

“No…why?”

“Never mind. Listen, you heard about Nate Nuckerbuck.”

“Ugh…no, I don’t guess I did.”

“He died.”

“Do what?”

Cathy filled him in on the python- no, crocodile- death. He said, “Old Nuckerbuck always was a wild man, not to mention a dumb ass.”

“That’s fine talk.”

“But true.”

Cathy said, “At Mama’s birthday party-

“When was that?”

“Last week. The same day it is every year.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway. A guest there named Ernest Brighterbulb-

“Brighterbulb? That sounds made up.”

“I agree. He was making a good impression, though. Says he’s in securities. Somebody there talked about Husqvarna lawn mowers and then Mama asked Brighterbulb if he knew the Nuckerbucks who ran the lawn mower store on the highway and he said he didn’t know them but last night he was at the visitation, claiming that he went way back with Nate and the whole family. And then, Stew told me today that Nate’s house was robbed last night.”

“Hhmm. That does sound fishy.”

“I thought maybe you and that handsome partner of yours might want to take a look.”

“Don’t start.”

She chuckled. “What? He is handsome.”

“We’ll get on it. You go tend to your Ham.”

Swim and Bear it…