The Walrus of Death: A Short Story Read Free Page A

there had been a stench to him the entire time and it just took me leaving the room for a moment to notice. Either way, I decided to wait for the police on the front porch with a glass of water and a comic book.
    I’d have preferred coffee over water, but considering the pot lay in sharp little pieces all over my kitchen, I’d have to make due with whatever else I had on hand. Which was water.
    I felt the loss of the coffee deep within my soul; you might even say I went through the five stages of grief as I stood there at the kitchen sink filling a glass from the tap. The logical side of my brain fought back, telling me that coffee wasn’t out of my life for good, I could always make a run into the Quick Shop and purchase a cup. Heck, I had a coffee maker in the office in town. That shone a little brightness into my soul. Once the Walrus was carted off, I’d head on in to the office and partake. Until then, tap water would have to do. The comic would help.
    Feeling a little better about the whole affair—going about heeled sure helped—I took my water and comic book and headed out to the porch. I sat in an old rocker and took in the morning: the smell of the dew on the grass, and the sound of the birds in the trees. Once in a while a car would wind lazily down the gravel road past the house. I sipped my water, frowning at the lack of heat and bitterness, and I read my comic book.
    A squirrel hopped up onto the porch from the grass below and stood on its hind legs looking at me with its head cocked slightly to the side in the way that animals do, like they’d just asked you a question.
    “You the back up?” I asked the squirrel. “You here to finish me off since your pard ain’t up to the task?”
    It just cocked its head to the other side and continued to stare at me, its nose twitching.
    "Well?" I said. “You got something to say, then say it. Otherwise, get.”
    The squirrel remained. Its little nose flicked up and down. It didn’t talk, and it didn’t move. It just stared at me. I don’t know that I actually expected it to start speaking, but after arguing with a walrus, nothing would have surprised me.
    "If you ain’t got nothing to say then get!" I snarled.
    I tried to ignore the squirrel, but it wouldn’t stop staring. I raised the comic book, blocking the squirrel from my sight, but after about five minutes, I found myself skimming through the comic instead of actually reading it. I kept looking over the top at the squirrel. The squirrel met my eye every time.
    “You best get if you know what’s good for you,” I said.
    The squirrel didn’t move.
    I sighed and went back to the comic.
    I’d actually read three full pages before glancing over the top of the book again. The squirrel was still there, only he’d moved six or so inches closer.
    “Get!” I yelled and then I tossed the glass of water at it.
    The squirrel stood its ground as the glass sailed uselessly over the thing’s head. It continued to stare.
    "Dang it!" I stood. "Quick staring at me you dern tree rat!" I tried to kick the fluffy little rodent, but it hopped nimbly to one side, so I missed and fell off the porch.
    I rolled about a bit in the grass, the dew soaking my bathrobe.
    That’s when the rage took over. I’m not an easy man to anger, but once I am, watch out. It’s not a quality I’m proud of, but it’s there all the same.
    I jumped back up to the porch and did my best to stomp the squirrel into the wood grain. It just danced back and forth, dodging each stomp as I cursed and fumed.
    “Stupid tree rat!”

-STOMP-
    “Get off my dern porch!”

-STOMP-
    “Don’t make me kill you!”

-STOMP-
    The squirrel remained. I had but one choice left.
    I drew both pistols, thumbing back the hammers as I cleared leather.
    The squirrel blinked.
    I smiled.
    "Norman?" a voice said from behind me.
    I turned in surprise. A woman in a Stetson hat and the khaki uniform of a Eudora Police Officer stood at the bottom of the three steps