The Daryl Chronicles: Episode 5
Daryl Gets Found Out.
Daryl had a busy morning ahead of him. While he was running around in orbit he had neglected to tell Mrs. Junkins that he couldn’t come over to fix her leaky roof, and she was pretty hot.
“Chester I just got a call from Mrs. Junkins and I have to get out there quick, do you want to come along?”
“Nah, that’s OK Daryl, I’m tired and I think I’ll lie around here while you do your work, after all I’m supposed to be the pet remember.”
“Worthless,” Daryl thought to himself as he drank the last slurp from his cup.
Mrs. Junkins had threaten to “sue his butt if he didn’t do what she paid him to do,” and Daryl didn’t want the extra attention getting your butt sued off would bring. He had to get out to Mrs. Junkins’ house quickly before she did something rash.
As Daryl walked outside the fresh smell of his vegetable garden swirled around his nose. He stood there for a moment and breathed in the aroma of basil and tomatoes. Visions of pesto danced in his head and a short lived smile came over his face. The moment was shattered by the beeping of the phone in his pocket. He looked at the caller ID. Mrs. Junkins! Daryl quickly pushed the answer button.
“I’m getting in my van right now, and will be there in five minutes.” Daryl said into the device.
“You better be on your way you lazy good-for-nothin, I’ll sue your butt!” Daryl half smiled when he heard that. He really liked Mrs. Junkins, she was in her 80s and had a big cotton ball for hair, and she made the best oatmeal cookies with raisins he had ever tasted.
“I’ll be right there don’t you worry,” and with those words he jumped into his van, fired up the engine, and sped on his way. But in his haste Daryl forgot a thing or two, and left his garage door wide open, giving the perfect opportunity for snoopers to walk right in to get a good look around.
Meanwhile next door, Hoss and Floyd were watching Daryl’s yard from Fred’s living room window. They had just finished breakfast and were picking grits from their teeth. They watched as Daryl burned rubber coming out of his driveway.
Floyd snapped the suspenders of his tattered overalls then looked at Hoss. “Whacha think, should we go lookin at Daryl’s place now?”
Hoss popped the top of a can of Old Milwaukee and started to chug. “Glug, glug, glug…. BURP! OK, I’d rather walk through a furnace in a gasoline suit, but we gotta do it.”
Floyd grabbed the flashlight that he gotten for free with a coupon from the “El Cheapo China Tools” chain store, and they headed out the door.
Floyd started looking all around to make sure nobody was spying on them as they headed across the driveway to Daryl’s yard. Out of the blue Hoss elbowed Floyd in the ribs.
“OUCH! Watcha do that fer?”
“Look natural you idjet, we need to look like we belong here.”
“Oh, OK but stop hitten me in the ribs.”
The two overall clad men stepped cautiously into Daryl’s yard and were greeted by a wide open garage door that was begging for exploration.
“watcha think Hoss, should we go in?”
“Of course you idjit, why ya thing were here?”
The two men crept cautiously through the garage door into the shadows of the garage. They started poking around looking at the tools that were hanging on the walls. Rakes, a shovel, a large red tool chest full of sockets, screwdrivers, and wrenches. The slight smell of grease wafted through the air. Floyd and Hoss didn’t notice, it would have taken skunk stink to make it past their own body odor and the smell of squirrel droppings.
“Hey Hoss, look at this!” Floyd held up an electric staple gun and tried to shoot a staple at Hoss. Nothing happened.
“Damn thang must be busted.” Floyd said as he slammed it into the top of his thy trying to get it to work.
“Ka Chunk” went the staple gun as it made contact.
“YEOWWWW!” Floyd screamed as he dropped the staple gun on the floor.
Hoss looked over at Floyd jumping around the room trying to remove the staple he had shot into his leg.
“Looks like you forgot to pay your brain bill again Floyd.”
Hoss stood there watching Floyd pick the staple out of his leg then went back to looking around the garage. He tried the door going into the house but it was locked. Then he saw something that caught his eye.
“WOW! It’s a can of Billy Beer!”
Hoss walked over to a shelf that also had black plastic bottles of engine oil and grabbed at the can. The can didn’t come of the shelf to Hoss’ surprise. The can was a lever and the walls of the garage started to rise.
“What’s happening Hoss? What’s goen on?”
“I dunno Floyd but it looks like we’re sinken.”
And sinking they were. As they both looked up they saw a floor slide into place where they had come from. The walls were slick, and illuminated by strips of yellow light.
“Where are we goen Hoss? I’m afraid!”
“Whatcha gonna do Floyd, pee yer pants, you big sissy? Why don’t you grow a pair, obviously this is some sort of elevator.”
The elevator was large enough to move a large vehicle underground, and after a few minutes it stopped at about fifty meters down. They were staring at a large grey door, then *ding* and the door slid open. Lights started popping on, and the men stared in wonder as the door opened into a room about the size of an airplane hangar. It was filled with things that looked out of this world, and things that looked ordinary. The two men stood there with their mouths wide open like they were inviting flies to come in and land for a party.
“Move out of the elevator please.” A mechanical female voice said out of nowhere.
Hoss gingerly stepped into the room, and Floyd followed closely like a child hiding behind his mother.
Hoss was looking around the room, and then turned to Floyd, “Holly sheep crap!”
What lay before them was hard to wrap your brain around. A warehouse with shelves filled with just about anything you could think of. Old things, new things, and work benches in different areas. The truth was that Daryl had been on earth for a long time, and Daryl was a collector. Daryl had been trying just about anything to get himself home with the material that he had at hand, but industry on earth was just to primitive, and he wasn’t having much luck.
“I knew that Daryl was up to sumtin Hoss, this here is a secret labatory, I saw one on TV in a James Bond movie. Do ya think this Daryl is trying to take over the world?”
“Floyd did you hit every branch when you fell out of the stupid tree? It’s obvious what Daryl is, he’s a just a big thief. He had to a stole all of this stuff. Look at that big claw thing lying there, who has one of those? Well I’ll tell ya, nobody but a thief mastermind, that’s who.”
“That’s a big claw Hoss.”
“Shut up for a moment will ya I’m thinken.” Hoss snapped his fingers, he had a brilliant idea; he reached up into his deep pocket and pulled out his pay-as-you-go cell phone. “Hey this thang here has a camera!”
“Wow those will be some great pictures Hoss, but them tiny pictures will be hard to show to people with that little screen.”
“You idjit Floyd, you put these pictures on a pooter, we have to find someone with a pooter.”
Hoss started walking around the room snapping pictures on his cell phone. He took pictures of books, he took pictures of gizmos, and he even took pictures of pictures, with Floyd tagging along behind him.
At about the time our hillbilly friends entered the warehouse Chester’s collar started flashing.
“Ah shozbot, someone is poking around in the warehouse. Daryl must have left the garage door open and monkeys with pants must have gotten in. Sigh, I guess I better do something.”
Chester strolled over to a small control panel located near the floor in a closet in the hallway. Chester hit his paws on the multicolored screen several times and a red box started flashing.
“Good that will take care of them.” Chester pawed the control panels several more times and a small door slid open next to it.
“Here I go!” Chester jumped through the door and was suddenly slipping down a long slide going down and around, and down some more when after a couple a minutes Chester spit out. He popped out of another door at the bottom of the slide into soft cat bed sitting on top of a tall filing cabinet. The opening slid closed behind him and Chester took a moment to let his head to stop spinning.
“I almost forgot how dizzy that thing makes me.”
Chester looked around from his vantage point (trying not to barf) and saw Hoss and Floyd walking around in the distance to the east, and to the west he saw the guards he had alerted. Two rolling eight armed robots were making their way through the maze of shelves to intercept the intruders.
Chester sat back on his rear foot and thought to himself. “You just can’t buy entertainment like this.”
Tuned in next time for: “It Ain’t Gonna Be Pretty.”
Tags: Aliens, Dan LaFollette, Eugene, hillbillies, Oregon, robots, The Daryl Chronicles