Revenge of the Moles©
It was the month of October. But at the Desperate Wayfarer’s Club it was sizzling hot. There was I for months on the move trying to beat the heat. Global warming it was whispered at first and none would believe it then. From look of it no one seemed to believe it either. It was killing time and the travelers were all there. They were asking the bar tender for ice to make their hooch sound high class. None was getting any. You see the proof was right there. It melted even before it could be served. Yet drinking the undrinkable they were craving for ice! The bar tender whinnied,’This heat is killing me and ice is melting dear sirs, Between the two I ain’t sure if I will see end of the day.’ The travelers snorted and it was hooch, with no ice.
I was seated among well heeled travelers. It was obvious. They were all sitting on the lounge chairs with their part of feet missing. Heat made the asphalt like it was a trial run on the halls of Lucipher. How people everywhere bought branded items! Some even tried cucumber! Cool as cumber was one expression that was left as useless! While sale of Gucci, and Adidas fell nothing made their feet protected. Those who were on the run to escape the city lost their standing. The crooks who beat the system did not carry their loot no more than their poor feet could. But no they were all holed up at the club somewhat in a dither unable to down their constitutional. I gulped mine down and said,’ I can find my feet again.’
Obviously fellow travelers didn’t take kindly to the expression.. They looked not at their feet but at my empty glass. One asked, ‘My dear sir, You drink and say finding your feet.’ You have even got shoes on.’
I looked at my feet and smiled. ‘Ah it is story time. I know my moleskin shoes are wonder shoes. I saved the wonder of..’
“Shoes?” asked one. Sitting next to him I said, “No, my story. It has to do with moles and I had a capital idea of going into business of making shoes.” I would have launched into it capital outlay and production cost and the whole rigmarole of setting up a factory and so on. But as one who loved to tell stories I knew these were of no use at the moment. I knew it was the story of moles what brought me there and not what I do with their skin.’ One traveler immediately thrust a bumper of hooch onto my hand and said, ‘Here this is one me. Only make the story smooth and as silky as your shoes.’
I thanked him and said,’I am Dr. Fix-It and I have just come after saving the world. In order to do that let me briefly touch upon my job. I fix whatever problems there may be. This story hangs on a little hiccup called Nuclear Waste. And it is what I intend to tell you right now. You heard of spent fuel rods?’
‘Oh yes, something nuclear I believe.’ one said brightly. I explained as quickly as possible the difficulty in getting rid of the high-level waste. In a flash I moved on to its disposal. ‘Bury them under the ocean floor, storing it underground, and shooting it into space. I had to fix the problem. Then I set my assistants to search high and low for a solution. But I found a mole right in front of the lab. A mole was messing up a flowerbed for a week. I hit upon the idea of using moles to solve it for us.’ The travelers must have noticed the strange cunning smile and said, ‘Oh Dr. Fix-It drink up your whiskey. You look like one in need.’. How could I refuse them? I said,’Oh yes. I set up a mole farm where I fed them with nuclear waste little by little.. The moles were soon hooked on to the stuff. It was better than “deep geological disposal!” ‘
Like Dr. Victor Frankenstein I had a problem. But moles wanted to eat the world away. Their appetite was gargantuan. I think something in the nuclear waste disagreed with their hormones. They developed gigantism…’ I was sweating and the fellow travelers looked at me with alarm. ‘What size are we talking here?’ the bar tender was asking me. Of course he had to know the measure of beer he poured and he was spot on. I said,’ Forget the spatula you use to wipe the foam. The comparison requires much more.’ A pause and I continued, ‘What if I had told you some three moles could sit down to eat up the Empire state building? And at the end of it got up with a smirk to say, the dinner was just about. James you get me clear. Don’t you?’ James was so confused that he let the tap run for a while.
‘How did you save the world?’ the fellow traveler from Montana asked me. ‘With great difficulty’ I replied. Of course I was being too optimistic. But what the hell I’m Dr.Fix-It. It was as good as done. I paused and took the thread of my story again, ‘Oh yes the nuclear waste was buried under Yucca mountains. When the whole pile caved in I knew the moles were behind it. There were frantic calls from Homeland Security. They had discovered suspicious tunneling below Pentagon and under the Fort Knox. The went for the Alert Red. Soon it was clear that there was no Un-American activities engaged by the citizens. But the tunnels were caused by some devilish critters. I knew what they were. But I wasn’t going to give myself away. I managed to persuade the President to call off the drones. The problem was to smoke these dreadful critters out. I held such power in my hands and I insisted absolute free hand. It was thus the government called off the drones.
My assignment took me go in search of these elusive moles. I went all the way to the Marianas trench in the Pacific. While I paused there was a great clamor among the fellow travelers. One Indian stood up and said, I intend to punish the moles for what they did to Agra. Taj Mahal collapsed since the moles had tunneled under the World Heritage Center. That brought one who said he was all for killing the Moles for blasphemy. Didn’t these infernal critters bring Mecca into a pile of rubble?’ It brought the Shi’ia factions to rouse themselves saying the moles need to be exterminated. ‘No mercy!’ In fact the great assembly of travelers were desperate for action. ‘We shall kill all the moles!’ they cried. It became a battle cry. The noise was spiraling into ear deafening cry. I got up on the counter and cried for a hearing. I said,’ If you are ready for action I am just going to tell some news.’ It took a while for them to quiet down. I said, ‘The moles are elusive creatures. All those nuclear stuff also made them very cantankerous. They know I am after them.’ Pointing to my moleskin shoes I said, ‘These shoes must alert them of my existence. If they were to come after me, there is going to be a shoot out, like that shootout in the High noon.’
“ Show us the irons you have packed?’ the fellow from Montana asked me. ‘No I shall not give away my secret’. Before it sank in sure enough there was an earth shattering piercing cry. Imagine some thousand moles each a mile high and of a mile girth, breaking out of the ground! It was incredible. I said, Each of you try standing and pee for all your worth. Many simply fell and wretchedly crying, ‘No we already peed in our pants! I asked,’ James, never mind. Just open all the beer barrels as soon as they come within striking distance’.
I must say James kept his cool. He let go the beer flooding in a stream and the phalanx of moles stopped their nostrils burning. It was a searing hot afternoon. I do not know if it was beer or the heat that did it. The moles simply folded up. James asked, ’Is it a beer dream?’
‘No the sun made your beer lethal. Next time don’t serve us your beer. Unless a mole comes in for a pint.’
benny
