“Like, just a little more, man,” he said as he squirted one last stream across the completely submerged and overflowing hot dog.
Slowly making his way back down the aisle, Ziggy focused intently on his delicious possession, trying desperately not to leave a dribbling trail of mustard in his wake.
“She’ll go to Baylor over my dead body,” said a large man to his wife, who was sitting directly behind the girls and Kip. “No daughter of mine is going to a school that don’t allow dancing. How’s she going to meet a husband?”
“Honey,” his wife calmly replied, “they changed that rule years ago.”
“Still don’t matter,” the large man answered. “She needs to go to A&M. They got lots of boys in the Corps at College Station. Better odds she can find a man there. Plus, the Aggies have a better football team.”
“Darling, she won’t go to A&M. She says maroon makes her look fat.”
“Well, for Pete’s sake, Gladys, she is fat!”
“Shut the hell up!” Miss Pearl exploded, as she turned and glared at the couple behind her. “I’ll come back there and brain both you and your fat little hussy if you don’t pipe down so I can hear my numbers!”
“Who are you calling a fat little hussy, you gnarly old toad?” Gladys stood up, facing Miss Pearl with her hands on her hips. “Nobody talks about my sweet little baby girl like that.”
“You wanna go?” snarled Miss Pearl, standing up and raising her clenched fists. “You wanna go now?”
“Ladies, please!” Polly cried as she moved to separate the two women. “Can’t we all just act like mature Christian ladies? There’s no need for violence.”
At the same moment, Ziggy, fighting to maintain his balance, passed the commotion. Looking up, he saw Polly with her exploding mane of curly red hair between the two ladies. Terror filled Ziggy’s mind as he stumbled with his mustard-soaked hot dog.
“A flaming Medusa!” Ziggy screamed as the hallucinogen made Polly’s wild hair look like fiery red serpents hissing and weaving in all directions. “I’m done for!” he wailed as he lost control of his hot dog, sending it flying directly at Miss Pearl. The dripping foot-long arced through the air and crashed into Miss Pearl’s baby blue dress with a wet smack, sending a spray of mustard over her and her bingo cards.
“Oh, no, you didn’t!” Miss Pearl said as she examined her splattered dress. Picking up her huge white purse by the straps, she used both hands to whip the bag around her head and slugged Ziggy right in his face. The heavy bag made a dull thump as it smacked the side of Ziggy’s head, sending him crashing to the floor like a sack full of hammers. Reaching into the purse, Miss Pearl produced a huge chrome-plated .357 Magnum handgun. She clutched the enormous pistol in both hands and stood over Ziggy, pointing the gun at the lizard-like man curled up in a fetal position.
“Pearl, stop!” cried Polly.
“Make one move, you freaky little tie-dyed gecko, and I’ll clean your ear with a lead Q-tip!” Miss Pearl commanded. “I mean it. I know how to use this shooting iron!”
“Jesus, Pearl!” Jolene cried. “Where in God’s name did you get that thing?”
“What? It’s my hand cannon,” Miss Pearl replied. “I got a concealed-carry permit last month.”
“Shoot the Medusa!” Ziggy pleaded as he rolled in agony on the floor, peering through the fingers of his hands as they covered his gaze. “Just don’t look her in the eyes!”
The bingo hall erupted in panic as the other patrons noticed the commotion, particularly the frail, mustard-stained black woman brandishing an enormous chrome pistol nearly half as long as her arm. People scampered for the exits, knocking over chairs and tables in the process. Bingo cards and daubers flew through the air in the chaotic stampede.
“Miss Pearl!” implored Little Esther. “Please, put the gun down!”
“Don’t look in her eyes!” Ziggy repeated. “She’ll turn you to stone! Just shoot the Medusa!”
“Quiet!” demanded Miss Pearl. “Quiet, all of you! You’re making me crazy!”
“Miss Pearl, please,” pleaded Kip who had slipped down the row toward the enraged little woman. “It’s going to be okay. Let me take that for you.”
“Boy, don’t you dare touch my hog leg!” Miss Pearl snapped.
“Noooo!” Big Esther cried as she sobbed into her man-sized hands.
“Shoot it!” cried Ziggy.
“Quiet!” Miss Pearl again bellowed in the midst of the screams and shrieks of terror as bingo players climbed over each other, fighting their way to the exit. “I can’t hear myself think!”
“Just shoot!” Ziggy screamed as he flopped about in his hallucinatory state. “Just shoot!”
A thunderous roar exploded through the bingo hall, the echo reverberating off the concrete walls. A thin curl of dark blue smoke swirled from the barrel of the gun Miss Pearl held above her head with both hands, pointed at the ceiling. Bits of plaster floated down from the dinner plate–sized hole in the ceiling above her, flecks of plaster and dust sticking to the mustard on her dress.
Everyone in the hall froze in place. Silence filled the room. No one moved. No one even breathed.
“B-eleven.” Old Man Handlebaum broke the silence, having failed to notice the commotion.
“Eleven. Chicken legs,” said Miss Pearl, lowering the massive pistol.
Half an hour later, a handcuffed Miss Pearl stood in proud, defiant silence as a police officer prepared to take her to the station. Ziggy lay nearby on a gurney, receiving treatment from an EMT for the wound to his head.
“Kip,” said Aunt Polly. “I’m so sorry, honey; I can’t take you to meet your little friend. I’ve got to go straight to the station and figure out how to bail out Miss Pearl.”
“Don’t worry,” replied Kip. “I understand. You go and help Miss Pearl. I’m only headed about six blocks from here. I know the way. I don’t mind walking.”
Kip gave Aunt Polly a hug and said a quick goodbye to the still shaken girls, who stood in a small circle, holding hands.
“When you get to the holding cell,” Kip said to Miss Pearl as he walked past her heading to the exit. “Find the biggest, meanest-looking woman in the room and punch her in the nose. Then they’ll know you mean business.”
Miss Pearl nodded in agreement.
“Not so bad,” Kip said to himself as he walked past the police cruiser and ambulance parked outside the bingo hall and pointed himself toward downtown. “Not nearly as boring as I thought it would be.”
Back in his room, Avery furiously typed away.
To: President and CEO
TummyTuck 9000
Dear Sir,
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