Page 70 of Venomous as a Snake

“Around six or seven, and not for very long,” Forrest answers, pulling two more round grenades from the bird’s pouch. “Their sack isn’t meant to store things. It’s meant to capture.”

“Their pouch?” Collin corrects.

“Same thing,” Forrest replies.

I shrug. “I get what you’re saying, but I’m wondering how many can fit, not how many they can fly with.”

“They can hold around three gallons of water, which is twenty-five pounds. The average grenade weighs two pounds… So, twelve and a half,” the rhino rattles off.

Collin and I stare at Forrest as he takes the sixth and final grenade out of the pelican’s pouch.

“What?” he asks.

“That was one hell of a word problem,” Collin tells him.

“Why do you know so much about pelicans?” I inquire.

He opens the door, and our bird friend trots away, taking flight as soon as it can spread its wings.

“When we were kids, our neighbor was a pelican. My older brother used to tell me he carried body parts in his pouch and buried them in his backyard. I got in trouble for digging a hole in his garden to search for bodies, so I studied the bird while I was grounded.”

I giggle, then cover my mouth to stop myself. “How do you know there weren’t body parts in the backyard? I’ve seen weirder shit than that while growing up in a gang.”

He frowns. “I don’t know if it’s true or not. I still think about it.”

“Is that what keeps you up at night?” Collin asks before chuckling. “I don’t know why it’s funny, but it is. Your brother is an asshole, Forrest. He was probably trying to get you in trouble.”

“No doubt about it,” the rhino says with a smile. “But I got him back.”

“What did you do?” I ask, laying out cloth and ziplock bags.

“He talked about this long-distance girlfriend he had in Canada, so I made a bunch of phone calls on our landline. Ran the bill up. Then I sat in my room and listened to our parents chew him out over it.”

I wrap the grenades in the cloth and tuck each one in a separate baggie before putting them in my oversized purse. A purse I’ve only ever used to carry larger weapons… But it does the trick.

“What are you doing?” Forrest asks, a little sing-songy, like he’s confused.

“Making sure the pins don’t get snagged on anything in my purse,” I confess. “I don’t want to blow up. Do you?”

“You’re carrying those in your purse?” Collin inquires, wide-eyed.

I pat my pockets and give him a flat look. “Where else would I put them?”

“I don’t know…” He flails his arms around. “Like a foam-filled suitcase?”

“That would look suspicious.”

“At least they wouldn’t blow up,” he mutters before his eyes bug out. “Jesus. Do you have a fucking gun in there too?”

“Where else—”

He cuts his arms in the air, making a big X. “Not with the grenades! That’s not where you put it.”

“Okay. I’ll carry it.”

“Is the safety on?” he asks as we walk out the back door of the club.

I shrug. “Probably.”