SpankysBeachside.com | 912-786-5520
TYBEE BEACHCOMBER | MARCH 2020 31
He gets to the kitchen and slowly opens the door. “Psst. Anyone in
there?” When he doesn’t hear anything, he opens the door the rest of the
way. “Hmmm. I don’t see any Joe T!” he shouts back over his shoulder
before venturing further into the kitchen. “Wait a minute, here’s one,” he
says, as he finds a rather large rat on a sticky trap under the stainlesssteel
prep table. “Ahh, and you’re still alive. Very good. Joe T won’t eat
anything unless it’s squirming.” He collects the rat and heads back to the
bar where Joe T is tied up.
Joe T begins to squirm wildly in his bindings and foam starts to form
in his mouth like a demonic version of Pavlov’s dog as Richie holds the
rat above his head and begins to slowly lower it toward him.
“I really hate this ritual, dude. But I suppose a rat a day takes the rot
away. Here you go buddy; airplane is coming into the hangar.”
Joe T bites at the air between him and the rat, making a loud clanking
sound. He snarls with frustration when the rat is just out of reach, and
he begins to shake like a junkie who desperately needs his fix. Richie
lowers the rat just enough for Joe T to snag its head with his teeth. He
rips the rat’s head off with one chomp, swallows it, and then slurps on
the blood pouring from the rodent suspended above him. Richie lowers
it a bit more and Joe T snags the rat from his grasp. Richie stands there
and watches, making sure Joe T gets the whole thing down. Joe T, when
he’s done eating, lowers his head as if he’s enjoying the feeling of fresh,
warm meat in his belly.
“Well buddy,” Richie says, “Maybe when I get back, there will be
another one stuck to the trap in the kitchen for you.” He takes the last
few swigs of his beer and tosses it into the trash can behind the bar. “I
suppose I’d better head out and check on that explosion then. Probably
someone left the stove on or something stupid like that. Hey man,” he
says, as he looks around the bar, “Have you seen the extra magazines for
my Glock? Nothing? Not a word? So ungrateful. I feed you and you ignore
me.”
After a few minutes he finds all his supplies and gets himself together.
He grabs two magazines and secures them in his utility belt, walks over
to the front door of the American Legion Post 154, and peeks out the
window. He doesn’t see any undead walking around between him and his
2018 Dodge Charger police cruiser. Before he heads to his car, he peeks
his head back in the door and, in his best dad voice, says, “Don’t you get
into any trouble while I’m out or you’ll go to bed without dinner.”
As he settles into his car he muses under his breath. “I really have to
find him a better source of food. Too bad someone let our prisoner out of
jail. That would have been perfect for him.”
To be continued…
Open 7 Days a Week | On the Strand Across from the Pier
Take Out Available | Full Menu Online
/SpankysBeachside.com