CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Police department, what’s your problem?” Buddy Wilson the dispatcher asked in his down home small town sarcastic voice.
Buddy was thirty-three and your average likeable fellow for the most part. Never married, yet still taking care of his mother was why most folks saw him as a devoted mama’s boy.
Short and pudgy, with thinning black hair and yellow stained teeth, which didn’t help matters much when it came to the ladies. Plus, he seemed to have a peculiar smell about him; not much of a bather, so it would appear. Yet he did have a magnificent sense of humor, to be sure.
“This is Mable Zeeks, I want to report a catnapping,” she said in an obviously distressed tone of voice.
“Mrs. Zeeks, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it’s not against the law for your cat to take a nap; but should your furry little friend get itself stuck up in a big ol’ persimmon tree, why I’d be more than delighted to call out the volunteer firemen to help you get it down,” he said knowing full well it would rile her up.
Mable was married to Nigel Zeeks who was the owner and operator of ‘Zeeks Barber Shop’ on Main Street. Nigel was a good natured gentleman of sixty-two, same age as his wife. Squat and weighty with only tuffs of grey hair over his long ears. Always clean shaven and neat in appearance nevertheless, and nary seen without his solid ivory pipe which he smoked his cherry-blend tobacco.
Mable on the other hand was just the complete opposite. Lean and a foot taller than he, with the disposition of a rattle snake; always poised to strike. Dyed black hair which made her blue eyes look dark gray. They never had children, it was rumored Mable had female problems of an unknown nature. She never held a job, just another housewife, as so many were expected to be in those days. She was known throughout the township as ‘Mad-Dog-Mable’ and many a joke were forthcoming, but only spoken behind her back for fear of her unrelenting wrath.
“Listen up dumbass! I know who you are, you little tub of dog crap. The little gray aliens have taken Mandrake! You put the Chief on the phone right now or I’ll have your job!” She yelled into the phone with her screeching barn owl voice.
“Please hold while I attempt to locate the Chief.” Buddy said undaunted by her insult and threat, as he seemed to enjoy tormenting her.
“You damn well better…” Buddy pushed the hold button as Mad-Dog-Mable was in mid-sentence knowing full well she’d most likely pop-a-vein, or so he wished. Laughing for several minutes as he pretended to search for the Chief, he finally buzzed the Chief’s desk.
“Yes?” Chief Hudson’s pleasant voice came through the receiver.
“It’s Buddy sir, Mad-Dog-Mable is on line one, and she’s hopping mad.”
“Oh good grief, so what’s her complaint this time?” Chief Hudson has had many strange calls from Mable Zeeks over the years. So there’s not much she can say that would surprise him; everything from trash cans levitating high into the air and then crashing to the ground, to naked leprechaun’s chasing her cat up into trees and so forth.
“Well sir, it would seem a little green Martian has kidnapped her cat.” Buddy chuckled softly after announcing the catnapping.
“Very well then, I’ll handle it. And by the way Buddy, in the future please don’t refer to Mrs. Zeeks as ‘Mad-Dog-Mable’ nor do I appreciate the giggling in the background. Is that clear?” Chief Hudson had called Mable ‘Mad-Dog’ on many occasions, but he never did it while on duty; and he didn’t appreciate anyone else doing so either.
Buddy picked up immediately on the Chiefs professional tone and knew to stop his horseplay, “Yes sir, I do rightly apologize.”
Chief Hudson answered the phone as Buddy transferred the call to his desk. “This is Chief Hudson, so Mable, what’s all the fuss about?”
Mable launched into her frightful attack at once, “I’ve been waiting on this line for fifteen minutes, and thank the good Lord it wasn’t an emergency or I’d surely be dead by now, no thanks to you and your keystone-cops!”
“Mrs. Zeeks, please stop and take a breath. Now tell me what happened to your cat?”
After a brief pause, “I was sitting in my porch swing and Mandrake was…”
“Mrs. Zeeks?” The Chief politely interrupted.
“What!?” She said miffed that he had the audacity to interrupt her.
“Who is this Mandrake person?” In true sincerity he asked.
“Are you kidding?! Mandrake is my cat for god’s sake!” Her voice was strained with exasperation.
“I’m sorry, I thought your cat’s name was ‘Peaches’ or something like…”
“What’s the matter with you people down there, Peaches died over two years ago. For Christ’s sake, why can’t you idiots stay on top of things? Everyone knows my cat’s name is Mandrake! Can we move on now Chief Hudson, or am I going too fast for you?! And you were not my first choice for Chief-of-Police, just so you know!”
“Sorry I interrupted you Mrs. Zeeks, you were saying...” The Chief held his left hand to his forehead as a slight headache was now making its presence felt.
“As I said, I was sitting on my porch swing, it was around five in the evening last night when all of a sudden this tiny spaceship appeared. It was hovering only ten feet or thereabouts over my back yard. It was silver and oval shaped and had a bubble on top. It was only about fifteen feet around and maybe seven feet high. There was a little gray alien sitting in the bubble…”
“Did you say gray alien? I thought it was a green Martian?” The Chief interjected; he too enjoyed yanking-her-chain from time to time.
“Gray! Gray for heaven’s sake! What in god’s name is wrong with you nim-rods?!” She screamed into the phone.
“Oh, sorry, please continue.” His little grin momentarily paused the ever increasing headache that was steadily progressing.
“As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me; the spaceship landed and the gray alien, yes, gray alien got out and grabbed Mandrake. I ran in the house and grabbed my big broom, and chased after him trying to swat him so he’d drop Mandrake, but the little runt was just too quick for me. I was just so upset that I passed out. I’ve been unconscious until just a short bit ago when I awoke. I found poor Mandrake crying his little heart out. The alien had brought him back and dumped him in one of my big trash cans; he was so mortified.” She now feigned a pitiful, helpless voice for effect.
“Mrs. Zeeks, have you been sampling your home-made wine again? You remember the last time you…”
“You know I stopped making my watermelon-wine! I swear I don’t know why I bothered to even call you incompetent people!” She slammed the phone down on the receiver with a thud.
The Chief sat quietly as he rummaged through his desk drawers looking for some headache powder; for he knew full well he’d be hearing more on the subject of Mandrake, and the little silver spacecraft from Mad-Dog-Mable. As far as he was concerned it was all just so ridiculous.