Kimbo and Wade
When Kimbo met Wetzelina, it was love at first sight. Wade had brought her to the Springtucky Tug of War and Fried Chicken contest. The Fire Department won that year. But, the Police Department won the Godzilla Run – for adults. When Witzelina spotted Kimbo she wiggled out of Wade’s arms and ran up to her. She tried to bark, but nothing came out.
“What happened to your dogs bark?” Kimbo asked as she picked up this wire-haired Duschand, and gave it warm cuddly hugs.
“She lost her voice in the raid on the Mendoza Cartel. We had to use a lot of tear gas. They were a large family. On top of that, I think she was traumatized. She has seen a lot of crime and mayhem. I know she wants to talk about it, but, she can’t. Did I tell you I was a horse-whisperer after I dropped out of Harvard and went to work at the Pendleton Round-up?
All of a sudden Witzelina spotted the toy chicken hanging from Kimbo’s purse, took hold of it, and began to make it squeak. Then there was a avalanche of squeaks that went on for five minutes. Kimbo squealed with delight!
“My name is Kimbo! That’s right. You got it! What’s his name?” Kimbo asked, pointing at Wade. What? Puff&Fluff? Because……..? He’s full of Harvard stories after he smokes his funny cigarettes?”
Wade was giving Kimbo his long wrinkled nose look, of disdain (because he quit smoking weed back in 1967) when Witzelina bounded from Kimbo’s lap and chased a squirrel up a tree. The whole squad looked over to see what the commotion was. Witzelina was really getting some sounds out of her rubber chicken. When the chief approached, she charged at him. She was back at the compound, doing her job. The chief had cop written all over him.
“Squeazle! Squeazle! Squeazle!” she yapped, then dropped her chicken and took little nips at the Cheif’s tennis shoe!”
“Hey, Wade, call off your wiener dog, or I’ll put him on the grill and feed his to the boys!”
“She! He’s a she!” growled Kimbo, and called to her dog; for, it was her dog now. Now that she found her voice, Witzelina began to tell Kimbo about the horrific life she had lived since she was brought to the compound as a puppy.
“Squeazle- squeazle! Squeazle! Squeazle……………..Squeazle-squeazle!”
Wiping a rare tear away from the corner of her, Kimbo asks;
“What’s her name?”
“What does that mean?” Kimbo cautiously inquired, knowing she was playing into Wade’s strong suit, because he is the world’s foremost etymologist, toponymist, who had majored in onomastics……………at Harvard. When she first learned this, she broke out in hysterical laughter.
“Boy! You sure didn’t want to amount to anything! Are you afraid of success? ”
This is when she heard Wade’s sad story. His father was a boilermaker in Connecticut, who worked two jobs in order to send his only kid to Harvard. He worked himself to death.
“Witzelina means ‘the good witch of white mountain’. ” Wade said, then lowered his head because he didn’t do well under the look Kimbo gave him at times. She wondered if he was full of shit, and was putting her on.
“You did that to her? ” Kimbo said, with her best scold.
“That was my grandmother’s name. She was the only one who was there for me growing up.”
“Why were you on the Mendoza case?”
“There were photo albums, galore. I have a knack for assigning names to folks photographs. Genealogy is my hobby. I knew the second son was usually named Juan, and the first son was named Jesus. Things like that. I figured out who slept in what bedroom. I was able to tell who owned what toy and automobile. I listened to their music on their cellphones. I got in their head. I pretended I was a member of the family. Stop looking at me that way. I know I’m a fucking freak!
Then I saw her. Someone shoved her in the wine cooler. She looked – chilled!”