Page 33 of Statler

Tonk was already hoofing it toward his bungalow when he thought to ask, “Anybody else want anything?”

Everybody did. Of course.

When he returned, Tonka had a tote bag full of snacks that would most likely only barely get them through the fifteen-minute trip. Still, the bagged-appetizers were for the best. With this group, going into a grocery store hungry was a no-no. If stomachs were empty, they were bound to buy far more than was necessary.

Not that their purchases wouldn’t get eaten, but Statler, at least, felt like he didn’t need the extra calories of impulse buys. Even though he worked out or ran every morning, one couldn’t be too careful after reaching the age of forty-one.

Extra weight certainly seemed to materialize out of thin air.

* * *

The trip to Caribou was uneventful, with the exception of seeing a moose. But since they were all from Maine, no one was overly surprised to spot the large beast, since rutting season was in full swing. They also knew enough to hang back as the large animal crossed the road. He was clearly more interested in finding a female than messing with their trucks, but it always paid to be safe.

Their shopping trip, underway shortly thereafter, didn’t take long thanks to Eliza having already stocked their cottages with most of the staples they’d need.

Each person picked up their personal favorites, after which they headed to the hardware store.

That visit went even better than Statler had imagined. It being September, the few gas grills that were left were display models that had all been marked down to bargain basement prices. They gleefully picked the biggest from the small array, got a propane tank filled, then carefully secured both in the back of Sherbert’s truck.

That chore having been completed, the search was then on for a nearby bar that looked promising.

After visiting three—making nice with the bartenders and asking casual questions—they found the one that seemed to be the most likely hang-out for factory folk from Liminal. Filing away that information, Stat determined that tomorrow would be a good day to begin their undercover work. It being Friday, with paychecks in hand, factory employees with a thirst would probably be hitting this place right after clocking out.

“Who wants to volunteer to work the bar, first?” Statler asked as Sherbert drove four of them back to their home-base.

“Ooh. I have an idea. Why don’t you ask Eliza if she’d like to make the trip with you?” Pipes put in, cheekily. “It would be great cover, going in with a date.”

Statler scowled. Not because he wasn’t already thinking about taking Eliza out. But in this case, the logistics didn’t fit.

“Wrong,” he refuted. “No worker-bees are going to open up if there’s someone from the upper office present.”

“Damn, you are too easy, boss,” Pipes snickered. “I’m not an idiot. I’m fully aware that Eliza would be a deal-killer. I was just yanking your chain.”

“Asshole,” Statler huffed out the expletive that never failed to roll off his tongue numerous times every day, especially where Pipes was concerned. “But since you’re the first to speak up, I’m taking that as you volunteering,” Stat ordered.

“Fine,” Pipes easily agreed. “I’m probably best for the job, anyway. Chick-magnet, you know.” He puffed up his chest. “If I make nice and come home with a lady in tow⁠—”

“Then I’m bunking with Tonk,” Dizzy decried, interrupting. “There’s no way I’m going to listen to you getting busy all night.”

Blue snickered. “That’s if any woman gives him the time of day. Think about it. Have we witnessed any whoredom from him in a while?”

She turned to the man who was sputtering, and kept poking the bear. “You know, Pipes, I saw some gray strands in your hair today while we were out in the sun. It’s clear to me that you’re not getting any younger.” She gave an aggrandized sigh. “When your roots start to turn like that…” She trailed off with a shake of her head.

As if on cue, Pipes’ hand went to his high and tight, and he looked appalled. “Are you shitting me? I’m only thirty-six. I can’t have gray hairs. I’m still in my prime.”

While he grumbled, they pulled up in front of the cottages.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Blue chortled, getting out first before things escalated.

Statler ignored them as he also emerged, his boots sinking comfortably into the bed of soft pine-needles that was ubiquitous in these parts.

Cripes. It was like dealing with a bunch of middle-schoolers.

“Are we grilling tonight, boss?” Sherbert asked, joining Statler at the tailgate behind which their new purchase sat. They lowered the tail and smoothly lifted it out.

“Nah. Not tonight. If the casserole in my fridge is what Eliza provided for everybody, it looks really good. We’ll save grilling for tomorrow night after work.”

They’d purchased a bunch of steaks, but the personal-sized dish of comfort food Eliza had left was calling his name.