He was known only as The Beast, and yet he was by far one of the most attractive men that anyone has ever seen. His chestnut brown hair blew about in the breeze, yet despite its length, which hung to the shoulders, never obscured his vision nor kept anyone from seeing his striking face, which somehow managed to be both smooth and rugged at the same time. His eyes were the piercing color of glass cleaner and had been known to make Clint Eastwood weep with just a look. He walked with an athletic grace that would make a panther green with envy and his smile could make Cleopatra rise from the dead.
The Beast dressed simply in black leathers, from his boots and pants, to the vest he wore over a black, button up, cotton shirt. On his back rode a two-handed broad sword in a fur covered scabbard. On his right hip was a revolver that looked a little too big to believe. Other weapons were surely secreted about his person, but you did not want to see them if breathing was the kind of thing you were keen to continue with.
The man known only as The Beast was a warrior, a tracker, and a hunter, among other things. His keen, tactical mind was reputed to be as cold and unfeeling as the bitter Arctic nights, and it was a well know fact that The Beast is happiest only among blood, death, devastation, war, and horror. The Beast was an army unto himself. He has toppled governments and ended revolutions. He has abducted queens and defended presidents. In the most general of senses, The Beast was the one man you didn’t want to mess with, and he was now in the town of Grimmelton, Kansas for only one purpose. To find Goldilocks.
The Beast stood in the middle of Walter Road, gazing at the structure that was the Brick House Gas and Groceries. He sniffed the air curiously, ignoring the cars that honked as they sped past him, missing him by inches. Goldilocks had been here. He followed her trail through the parking lot and up to the squat little store. He stopped and sniffed the air again. He could sense that Goldilocks had entered the store. He could also sense that she didn’t stay long. He’d need to determine what she was doing in the Brick House Gas and Groceries and where she went from here. Her scent leaving the store was already starting to fade, which meant she left fast. He knew the direction, but it would speed the process up a bit if he also knew the destination. The Beast would need to see if the clerk knew anything. And if the clerk wasn’t willing to talk … well, they were always willing to talk … eventually they all talked in the end.
The entire front of the store was glass and so The Beast paused, standing off to the side of the entrance, and scanned in the interior. The lot was empty of cars, but he wanted to make sure that he would be alone with the clerk. An electronic ping sounded in the store as The Beast walked in through the double glass doors and went directly to the counter where a pig stood. The pig had his back to the store and seemed to be crying.
“You got a restroom in this place?” The Beast asked.
“In the back,” the pig replied without turning around.
The Beast did a quick check of the restrooms and found them unoccupied. Then he returned to the pig at the counter.
“You alone in here,” The Beast asked.
“What?” the pig turned and looked up at The Beast.
The two stood staring at each other for a moment. The Beast pulled a pack of Lucky Strike non-filtered cigarettes from his pocket, shook one out, plucked it into his mouth, and lit it with a Zippo he produced from another pocket.
“There’s no smoking in the store,” the pig said before blowing his nose.
“Where’s the girl?” The Beast asked.
“You can’t smoke in the store.”
The Beast smiled. Of all the things for the pig to be concerned about, his gun and sword to name but two, the pig was worried about secondhand smoke. But, no one ever said The Beast wasn’t reasonable, so he threw the cigarette to the floor and ground it out with his boot. The Beast continued to smile as he pulled the pistol, pointed it at the pig’s face, and thumbed back the hammer.
“I’m in no mood for killing today,” The Beast said, his voice like gravel being drug across a road of sandpaper. “Why don’t you just tell me what the girl wanted, and where she went, otherwise I’m eating bacon tonight.”
# # #
Colin W. Pig certainly wasn’t the brightest of the three Pig brothers, though he did have more ambition. He even had more imagination than his younger brothers. Colin spent a lot of his free time coming up with new product ideas and money making schemes. He just lacked the brain power and motivation to do anything with his ambition and imagination. This usually meant that his new product ideas were unrealistic or items that no one in their right mind needed, or even wanted. And his money making schemes tended to land people in jail.
It was Colin’s idea to manufacture and sell prefabricated houses made of straw. His thought behind the idea was that you could load more of the materials on trucks due to the lightweight properties of straw, thus you could move more product at one time and save on shipping costs. Additionally the building material was rather easy to come by and was also a bit cheaper than wood or bricks. In the end he only sold one house, and that was to himself. He soon discovered that the lightweight material didn’t do an adequate job of standing up to strong wind. Colin had put everything he had into Pig’s Straw Houses, and now he was broke, which was how he found himself working for his brother, Larry, at the Brick House Gas and Groceries.
Colin didn’t mind the job much. He got to hit on chicks, and had all the tortilla chips he could eat. But some days it just didn’t seem worth the bother.
For example, those days when a smoking hot chick comes into the store, acts like she wants to start a little something, but instead just steals his one prize possession … his precious … his Camaro. And if that wasn’t enough to make a pig feel a little down on himself, some dude with a sword comes into the store and sticks a gun in his face.
Life can just be such a complete and total pisser at times.
# # #
“Hey, pig,” The Beast said. “I’m talking to you.”
Colin just stood there, transfixed, staring down the barrel of the revolver. Colin couldn’t speak. A deep fear of death had caused his body to go rigid and his mind to escape to a better place.
“Piggy-piggy!” The Beast yelled.
Colin was immobile.
The Beast noticed a small set of thick wire shelves full of candy bars and single serve bags of potato chips. They were within reach, so The Beast snatched a bag of chips with his free hand, and threw it at Colin.
The bag of chips bounced harmlessly off of the top of Colin’s head.
The Beast grabbed up a candy bar, a hefty and dense Chunky bar, which was less of a bar, and more of a solid square paperweight with nice, sharp corners. He flicked it at Colin like it was a throwing star. It too bounced off the pig’s head with no apparent harm.
The Beast swore. Colin remained a statue. The Beast began scooping up chips and candy bars and hurling them at the pig. Colin was resolute.
This continued for a full ten minutes - The Beast yelling obscenities, calling Colin various offensive names, and pelting him with candy bars and bags of potato chips - Colin standing stock-still as candy bars and bags of potato chips bounced harmlessly off of him.
Two customers came into the store during this ten minute time frame, and though the two came in a few minutes apart, both had the same exact reactions. From the start there was confusion as their brains tried to process exactly what it was they were seeing. From confusion came a quick moment of clarity followed by understanding. At last came fear. These emotional reactions lasted no longer than ten seconds as each customer walked a pace or two into the store, froze, looked back and forth between Colin and The Beast, then turned and walked back out.
After the ten minutes The Beast determined that he was either going to have to shoot the pig or try a different tactic. He couldn’t get anything out of a dead pig, so shooting him was out of the question. He needed what information the pig had. The Beast had easily tracked Goldilocks to the store, and he could see, sense actually, that she left. He could sense her right up to a certain point in the parking lot, where her trail just simply disappeared right where a pair of burnt tire tracks started. She obviously got into a car. He couldn’t sense a human’s trail once they were in an automobile.
So The Beast put his gun away.
“Look, friend. I do apologize for all that just now. It was quite rude of me to just barge in on your place of business, point a gun at you, and then start pelting you with your own product,” The Beast managed to sound contrite. “I’ll tell you what. How about I pick all this up, then you and I can have a little talk? I just need to know where the girl went.”
“The g-g-girl?” Colin stammered.
“That’s right. Blonde. Smoking hot. Maybe a little manipulative?”
“Goldilocks,” Colin was starting to come out of it.
“That’s the girl.”
“The witch stole my baby.”
“I’m sorry?” Confusion showed on The Beast’s face, this was quite unexpected.
“She stole my baby.”
“She actually
stole your baby? Your, uh … piglet?”
“No, my car. The witch stole my car.”
“Ah, okay. Your car. You said she stole your baby and I thought ... well, it doesn’t matter. Which way did she go?”
“East. She took my car east, toward Griswold House,” Colin had begun to weep again.
“Rest easy, son. I’ll find her, and your baby.”
“You really mean it, mister?”
“You bet your curly tail I do.”
And with that, The Beast was gone and heading east.
