by Kat Lind
The forms seemed to be in order, but protocol demanded a personal interview with an agency professional. Liability claims from potential lawsuits were to be avoided at all costs. The proprieties must be observed as Mr. Scott0 would suggest. Most days, Lynn hated her job. Today was one of those weeks.
In Mrs. Hedgehog’s case, Lynn wanted to exhaust all alternative, less violent, solutions. Once HOLE approved a request, the results were permanent, as one can imagine.
“Mrs. Hedgehog, please come to the counter,” announced Lynn. A moment later, two tiny paws appeared over the edge of the counter followed by a pair of brownish squinty eyes. Lynn leaned over the counter to stare into the face of Mrs. Hedgehog. “Hello, I’m Agent Katt and will be assisting you today. That’s a lovely frock you are wearing.”
The government insisted all workers undergo extreme customer service training to avoid potential violent unpleasantries. The course, taught by hostage negotiators, revealed ways to diffuse tense situations. In Mrs. Hedgehog’s case, the choice of attire could be the most dangerous thing about her.
“Thank you so much, Agent Katt. As soon as my situation is squared away, I’ll need to find a replacement for Mr. Hedgehog. I want to look my best in case I run into a suitable candidate,” Mrs. Hedgehog proclaimed. Then her voice dropped to a near-whisper as she continued, “I noticed a dandy honey badger in the waiting room. Do you know if he’s single or soon will be single?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Hedgehog, I have no idea if the honey badger is available or not. Why don’t we take care of your request before we get ahead of ourselves, shall we?”
Lynn led Mrs. Hedgehog down the hallway to an interview room where they could discuss in private the possible untimely demise of Mr. Hedgehog. Lynn helped her client settle onto a stool before asking, “Why don’t you just divorce your husband instead of taking such drastic measures?”
“Oh, dear, I couldn’t divorce him or any husband! Honorable hedgehogs do not sully the family name with such scandals. I simply don’t believe in divorce,” replied Mrs. Hedgehog in her most dignified voice.
“Forgive my confusion, but you think it’s more honorable to exterminate your husband?” Lynn tried to hide her surprise and keep the smarm to a minimum.
“My dear Agent Katt, simply put, I don’t believe in divorce. I do, however, believe in being a widow. There’s no shame in being widowed. It can work in one’s favor, you know.” Mrs. Hedgehog winked at Lynn and mouthed “honey badger” as she pointed in the general direction of the waiting room. Hedgehogs looked fearsome when they smiled.
Agent Katt couldn’t argue with that logic. She approved the initial request and asked Mrs. Hedgehog when they could catch Mr. Hedgehog gambling. The rules demanded that an objective observer witness all deviant acts for legal compliance in case testimony is required. The agency retained a dozen or so licensed contractors for just such purposes.
“That’s why I’m here today. My husband is gambling away our fortune tomorrow morning, and I’m beside myself. Right after breakfast, he’s racing the local hare, a disagreeable and rude rodent. Can you send someone to settle the matter before we lose everything?” Mrs. Hedgehog was clearly distressed as she bounced up and down, nearly flying off the stool.
“Not to worry, Mrs. H. I believe we can accommodate your request. Someone will be at your den first thing in the morning. Once our representative observes the behavior noted on the extermination form, your request will be approved. You simply sign the form, and Mr. Hedgehog will cease to be a problem.”
Lynn escorted Mrs. H. back to the waiting room where the honey badger was still waiting. Mrs. Hedgehog smoothed her dress and stared at the badger until he noticed her. She tilted her head, winked, and scurried out the door as quickly as her stubby legs could manage. The honey badger blushed and buried his snout in his armpit. Interspecies dating conventions were complicated.
In cases where the remedies are severe, procedures are followed to the letter to reduce petitioner complaints when “buyer’s remorse” sets in. Fortunately, two of the HOLE Agency’s top contractors were on deck for the next assignment, the chinchilla sisters, Digger and Dogger.
The lovely and talented Chilla Ds, like most operatives, have a particularly useful set of deadly skills honed to perfection over time. Also, like most operatives, they have an interesting tale of how these imaginative skills were discovered and developed. Their story starts long ago in a quaint Peruvian hamlet nestled in the foothills of the majestic Andes Mountains.
The chinchilla herd was living a serene, uneventful existence when a group of unscrupulous scientists captured the colony to use in experiments. One particularly cruel researcher took great delight in tormenting the Chilla Ds. She would blast the knick-knack-paddy-whack song nonstop for weeks at a time to test their whisker vibratory responses given specific auditory stimulation. Scientists can be total jerks.
Eventually, the sisters were rescued by an assassin during a freak encounter. The female assassin’s mark was that same cruel scientist, who, incidentally, died in a painfully ghastly manner. When the assassin discovered the captive animals, she freed them. The Ds escaped in the assassin’s pockets and convinced her to apprentice them. In time, the sisters earned the new moniker of the Double Deadlies, or simply, the Double Ds. No more would they fall victim to human cruelty.
Chinchillas by nature are peaceful cuddly creatures. The Double Ds were a welcome chilla aberration to the HOLE Agency’s cadre of competent contract exterminators. They were more than merely deadly. Dogger relentlessly hunted suspects to acquire all evidence of malfeasance. Digger efficiently excavated graves. She could assess a subject’s dimensions and dig a precisely sized hole to accommodate his or her corpse. The diminutive Double D’s were a competent killing team. Only the unwise underestimated them.
The chilla sisters gleefully accepted the assignment. Agent Katt could not tell them apart over the phone, particularly since the Double Ds often responded in unison. “Sounds like an open and shut case,” they chimed. “Easy one to handle as hedgehogs pose no threat. We’ll be in and out. No fuss, no muss. Count on us.”
“Be sure the paperwork is in order. We’re already getting calls from headquarters about errors. Soon they’ll send henchmen to whip us into shape,” sighed Lynn. “One more thing, ladies, no collateral damage, if you please.”
“It’s not our fault!” The Ds protested. “Only after that student ate an entire wheel of brie did he announce, ‘Cheese gives me gas.’ He caused the explosion when he got too close to the fire. Then that fairy Gentille got killed in a stampede because she put a whoopee cushion on the prince’s throne, and he yelled ‘OMG! A snake!!’ Again, not our fault. This last time, we switched places with that tower girl, and the ogress screamed ‘Betrayed! I have been deceived!!’ and threw a fork at us. We ducked, and the fork sailed through an open window where it speared a dragon in the keister. The ogress got incinerated, while we barely escaped with our furry little hides intact.”
Lynn already knew the particulars from the countless retelling of the stories. Nevertheless, events seemed to take dramatic and sometimes traumatic turns when the Double Ds were involved. “I totally understand your situation. Just take caution when bystanders are in the vicinity. You two are our best operatives. The agency doesn’t wish to sanction you for violating your contract.”
“We’re on it. Have no fear, we’re up to the task!” The Double Ds proclaimed as they saluted and bounced out of the HOLE Agency as only chinchillas can bounce. Lynn was only slightly worried that the girls would botch the mission. After all, the case involved one little hedgehog. What could go wrong?
The next day, the chilla sisters arrived at the hedgehog den promptly at dawn to set up surveillance and prepare to carry out the contract. Digger shimmied to the window and peered inside to size up Mr. Hedgehog who was enjoying a tasty breakfast of snails and mushrooms.
Dogger completed paperwork, noting the date, time, and location on the requisite form while Digger
dug the perfect hedgehog hole. When their tasks were completed, they took a few spins in a dust pile. The Double Ds believed one could be a deadly assassin and still look good plying the trade. A girl must keep up appearances if she is to be taken seriously.
Mr. and Mrs. Hedgehog finally exited the den and walked to the garden. They placed a pile of treasure between two furrows. The missus removed her frock and tossed it into the bushes. She stepped down into one of the furrows and scurried to the other end where she hunkered down, completely out of sight. Mr. Hedgehog nodded and waved before turning back toward the forest.
At first, the Double Ds thought he had seen them, but he just glanced around and sat down as if he were waiting for someone or something. The hedgehog was pensive but oddly excited as he stood fidgeting and shuffling his stubby legs.
Minutes later, although it seems like an eternity when you are two dusty chinchillas with a dandelion and sunflower-seed salad screaming “come eat me,” the hare arrived. He, too, had a tidy treasure which was added to the Hedgehog’s pile. Digger was happily snapping photos on her trusty ACME discount spy camera while Dogger was jotting furiously to document the scene on the proper HOLE Agency form, LTK-007. The long name of the form was Licensed to Kill—007. Someone in the government form printing office had a sense of humor.
The hare possessed a keen sense of smell and inhaled the distinctive dusty chilla bouquet. He scanned the woods and said, “Hello, chinchies? I know you are there, I can smell your dustiness. Would you mind helping us, please? We would like to race and require a proper countdown.”
The Double Ds sputtered and spoke over each other for a few moments before finally blurting out, “We heard some burrows opened up nearby, and we were just scouting the neighborhood. It’s a lovely glen and seems to be quite safe. We see no killers in sight. Nope, not a one. We did not mean to intrude. However, we would be happy to assist you.”
The chilla sisters plastered disarming smiles on their otherwise mischievous faces. They strolled near the mountain of treasure and tried to appear completely harmless. The Ds knew dusty chinchillas can be a fearsome sight and didn’t want to scare anyone, yet.
The gamblers shook paws before jumping into their respective racing furrows. The Ds lined up at the end of each furrow and yelled in unison, “Eeny-meeny-miny-mo. Get feisty, get mad, and go, go, GO!” The racers took off. The hare’s form was magnificent. He practically glided down the furrow exhibiting sublime grace and speed. The hedgehog, however, hobbled for a bit before flopping to the ground where he sucked in the air trying to recover from his strenuous one-meter jaunt.
The race was lost. Or so the Ds thought. Just when the hare reached the end of his furrow, Mrs. Hedgehog jumped up and declared herself the winner. To the untrained eye, all hedgehogs look alike. Unfortunately, the hare had two untrained eyes. By all accounts, this was indeed the very same hedgehog who entered the furrow with him just a few short moments ago. But how could it be? Far be it for the chilla sisters to point out that only an idiot would mistake curvaceous Mrs. Hedgehog for a mister. Men were so funny.
The hare pitched a fit and demanded a rematch. Mrs. Hedgehog, who was not winded in the least, calmly agreed. Once again the Double Ds, who were thoroughly enjoying the races, delivered the countdown, “Don’t waddle, don’t dawdle. Walking is fun, but run, run, RUN!!”
Putting his luckiest foot forward, the hare shot down the furrow very much like the rabbit he was. He went so fast, it took a split second for his tail to catch up with the rest of him. Surely he had beat the stubby-legged hedgehog this time. The victory was his! But, alas, no. Just as the hare reached the end of the furrow, the hedgehog popped up and declared himself the winner.
Much to the great delight of everyone, save the hare, racing continued for more than two hours. The hare would not admit defeat. He would not give up. He ran with bloody feet. He ran with bursting lungs. He ran with determination until his furry heart gave up, and then he ran no more. With his last breath, the hare whispered, “Curse all stubby-legged varmints.”
Too bad no one was near enough to hear the hare’s dying words. The hedgehogs were busy scooping up booty and heading toward their den. That’s when the Double Ds remembered the mission and called out. “Excuse us, Mrs. Hedgehog, we’re from the HOLE Agency and here to approve your request. If you would just sign this LTK-007 form, we can tidy up and be on our way.”
Mrs. Hedgehog stopped abruptly, dropping a few trinkets from the winnings clutched in her greedy little paws. She slowly turned her head toward the chilla sisters and squinted. She stared at the Double Ds and then looked at Mr. Hedgehog. She eyed the treasure, glanced at the Double Ds again, and finally studied her husband. “I’ll be right back. Stand there and don’t move,” she warned. Everyone stood. No one moved.
The Double Ds turned slightly away from Mr. Hedgehog and planned in whispers how best to maneuver him closer to the freshly dug grave. As soon as Mrs. Hedgehog returned and signed the form, the Ds would spring into action. Sometimes the Ds had too much imagination for the task at hand. This was one of those times.
They were so busy planning Mr. Hedgehog’s demise that they neither saw nor heard Mrs. Hedgehog return. That is, they never saw it coming.
Back in the day, before Mrs. Hedgehog met Mr. Hedgehog, she was simply Stone Hedgehog, a second alternate on the all-forest hockey team. She played in one game before getting benched for chronic misuse of her hockey stick. Stone spent more time in the penalty box than any other player before her. Her record stands to this day.
The broom kissed the back of the Double Ds furry little heads with all the force Stone’s little paws could muster. The force was considerable. The Ds sailed in tandem through the air and into the branches of a fir tree, where they stuck. They chittered as only annoyed chinchillas can chitter. “Why are you brooming us? We’re on your side,” barked the Ds in their finest conciliatory voices.
“You saw what happened. We won. We’re rich,” said Stone Hedgehog, dropping the broom in horror at what she had done. “Please tell Agent Katt that I’ve changed my mind and am quite satisfied, thrilled even, with the recent turn of events. The agency may keep the deposit. I’m sorry I broomed you.” Stone scooped up the rest of the riches and scurried into the den on her stubby little legs.
The Ds didn’t exit the branches until they heard Mr. Hedgehog holler, “She’s gone. I think it’s safe to come out now. Sorry about the missus. She can be a trial at times. But still, she’s a wonderful mother and delightful wife.” Two chinchilla noses poked out tentatively, followed by the rest of their slightly bruised furry selves. They failed to see any delight in Mrs. Hedgehog’s broom bashing technique.
“Danger is nothing new to us, Sir. It’s part of the job. Have no fear, we are hale and hearty.” Although the Double Ds did not complete their assigned task, the client was happy, and that would satisfy Agent Katt. Overall, the HOLE Agency staff aimed to appease.
“I don’t suppose you kind ladies would help me with the poor hare. I’d give anything to be done with him and this day,” pleaded Mr. Hedgehog. The Double Ds looked at each other and nodded.
“We will help if you swear to forget you ever saw us. That means your broom-wielding wife never beat us. We know nothing about any hares,” explained the Ds in striking the bargain.
Mr. Hedgehog stood as tall as his stubby legs would allow, held out his paw, and vowed, “I paw promise to forget this entire day happened or may I never eat mealworms again.” The Double Ds watched as he dropped to the ground and rolled over three times. The hedgehog stood up and pretended to zip his mouth, throwing the key onto the ground and stomping on it.
A paw promise was the most solemn vow any self-respecting hedgehog could take.
Satisfied that the hedgehog would keep his word, the chinchilla sisters said, “We’re on it. Have no fear, we’re up to the task.” The Ds cheerfully sprang into action. In short time, the chilla sisters buried the hare, packed up their gear, and headed back to the agency.<
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When the Double Ds arrived back at the HOLE Agency, they were surprised to find the waiting room filled with all manner of forest creatures. Apparently, the Home Office Licensed Extermination Agency was having a blow-out bash with music, drink, food, and excessive party paraphernalia.
Agent Lynn Katt was mopping up a spilled drink when the Ds finally pushed their way to the counter and asked, “Hey, boss, what gives? We’re gone a few short hours, working hard, while everyone else is making merry. Mrs. Hedgehog sends her regards. She has canceled her request and wants you to know she is completely satisfied with the stellar performance of the HOLE Agency’s top operatives. That would be us. ”
Lynn rolled her eyes, a mannerism found charming by many forest denizens who were incapable of effective eye rolling, and replied, “Well done. But the party wasn’t my idea. You wouldn’t believe the morning we’ve had. Our supply truck was delayed, and the driver took a short cut down a one-way lane to get back on schedule. He was speeding when a spiteful fairy flew right in front of the truck. She didn’t look both ways before crossing the lane. Why would you on a one-way lane? Maintenance is still trying to remove the embedded wings from the windshield.”
Unbeknownst to the HOLE Agency staff, the untimely demise of the spiteful fairy set off a series of totally unrelated events that ultimately ended with a forest-wide celebration. It was all due to a misdirected delivery truck carrying a gross of toilet paper.
Years ago, the fairy was shunned by colleagues when she fell in love with a human. In those days, tolerance for non-conventional, or unnatural, love connections were virtually non-existent. Her love object, wealthy Prince Martelle, implored the fairy to retire her wings so they could live happily ever. She sacrificed her magic and strived to thrive under non-magical conditions. She really tried. Without the magic, the prince lost interest in the fairy and banished her from the castle. His last words dripped with spite, “My love for you has waned. We have lost that pure freaking magic feeling. I bid you farewell.”