Trail of the Chupacabra: An Avery Bartholomew Pendleton Misadventure (The Chupacabra Trilogy - Book 2)

by Randel Stephen

  “I’m running out of what little patience I have left, Ziggy. Where in damnation is this place?”

  “It’s, like, got to be right around here, man,” Ziggy replied as he turned his primitive map upside down and looked back down the street they had just come from.

  “Give me the map!” Avery demanded as he ripped the small piece of paper from Ziggy’s hands. Avery pondered over the hastily scribbled directions. “Nothing but gibberish, you good-for-nothing insolent little fool of a pigmy.”

  “Now, what you two fine gentlemen looking for?” a voice asked from the shadows of a stoop behind them.

  “None of your business,” Avery replied to the voice without looking.

  “Come on now,” the voice replied. “I can tell you just about everything. Sho ’nuff. In fact, my tied-dyed little friend, I can tell you something special about you right now.”

  “Like, what, dude?” Ziggy asked the lanky black man wearing a plaid vest and timeworn black bowler hat as he stepped out from the shadows.

  “Like what?” the man asked. “Like how about dem shoes you got on.”

  “Like, my shoes?” Ziggy looked down at his sandaled feet.

  “Yeah, brother. Like, about dem shoes you got on,” the man said as he removed his bowler and fanned his face with it. “For ten dollars, I can tell you where you got dem shoes.”

  “Like, I don’t even know where I got them, man.”

  “That’s the point, my man. Everyone should know where they got they shoes. You got ten dollars on you?”

  “Like, I don’t know, man,” Ziggy said nervously.

  “Come on now,” the man implored. “I know you got ten dollars on you, and I’ll bet you ten dollars of mine that I can tell you exactly where you got ’em.”

  “Well, like, okay, dude.” Ziggy pulled out a ten-dollar bill from his shorts.

  “You got dem shoes on your feet!” the man said, quickly snatching the money from Ziggy’s hands. “Sho ’nuff, you got dem shoes right on your feet!” The man cackled as he stuffed the bill in the front pocket of his vest.

  “Like, wait a minute, man,” Ziggy protested.

  “Shrewd investing, you pathetic chump,” Avery said to Ziggy.

  “Now, where you looking to go?” The man put his hat back on.

  “Ignore this man, Ziggy,” Avery said. “He’s already halfway to robbing you blind.”

  “Oh, now don’t be sore, little fellow,” the man said as he patted the crestfallen Ziggy on his back. “I was just teaching you a valuable lesson ’bout the streets in this part. Got to be careful with that bankroll, my brother. Don’t go waving it around like a string of Mardi Gras beads. Now, where you heading? It’s the least I can do.”

  “Sonesta Royale,” Ziggy mumbled.

  “The Sonesta Royale,” the man said. “Why, that is a hard place to find. In fact, you is definitely going to be needing Jasper’s help for that one. By the way, that’s me. Jasper. Pleased to meet you.” Jasper shook Ziggy’s limp hand. “Now, for just another ten dollars, I’ll take you there myself. Walk you right in the front door. What ya say?”

  “Do not give that man any more money,” Avery said to Ziggy.

  “Come on now,” Jasper replied. “Going to be getting dark soon. And when it gets dark in this part of town, it gets real dark. Like, pitch-black dark. You’ll be stumbling around here for hours. Not exactly the safest place to be toting dem bags of yours around once the sun goes down.”

  “You promise?” asked Ziggy.

  “Give you my word, my brother. Folks ’round these parts know Jasper’s word is money. I’ll even carry yo bags.”

  “Like, only if you promise, man.” Ziggy fished another ten dollars out of his pocket.

  “Promise.” Jasper grabbed the money from Ziggy and picked up their luggage. “Follow me,” he said as he disappeared back up the darkened stoop behind them.

  “Like, where you going, man?!” Ziggy called out as he and Avery followed Jasper into the darkness.

  “Come on now,” Jasper said over his shoulder as he pushed open a rickety old wooden door at the top of the steps. “Right this way.” Avery and Ziggy stepped through the door and into a dimly lit room with a small reception stand at the end. Jasper set their belongings by the reception desk and turned around to face Avery and Ziggy. “Gentlemen,” he announced grandly. “I give you the Sonesta Royale! It’s the oldest, finest, and not to mention, most affordable luxury accommodation in the Big Easy. Gentlemen, it’s been my pleasure to assist you this fine afternoon.” Jasper removed his hat and bowed deeply.

  A woman’s voice came from a room behind the reception desk. “Jasper! Quit bothering the guests. How many times do I have to tell you to stay off my steps?” A squatty black woman said as she waddled up to the desk.

  “Just assisting the customers, Momma Dee, just assisting the customers.”

  “Like, how come there’s, like, no sign out front?” Ziggy asked the woman.

  “Our celebrity guests don’t like the notoriety,” Momma Dee replied.

  “Celebrities, like, stay here?”

  “Oh, sure,” the woman replied. “Why, Madonna stops in all the time. Now, you must be the Pendleton party.”

  “Like, how’d you know that?” Ziggy asked.

  “You’re the only reservation I have. I’m going to give you the best room in the house, the Louis Armstrong suite. Twenty-nine a night plus tax, the first two nights in advance. Complimentary café au lait served in the lobby between seven and seven-thirty, weekdays only. And Momma Dee goes to bed at eight in the evening sharp. If you need anything after that, make sure it’s something that can wait until morning. Second key opens the front door after hours, so don’t go banging like a fool on it in the middle of the night, ’cause I ain’t answering.”

  “Room service?” Avery asked hopefully as he paid for their first two nights.

  “Anything you want to serve yourself in your room is fine by me, unless it’s illegal. Immoral, that’s no problem, just not illegal. Jasper!” Momma Dee snapped. “Since you already up in here, make yourself useful and help these guests with their luggage. Room three-oh-two, top floor.” She handed two brass keys on a ring to Avery. “Now, Momma Dee is getting back to her Sudoku. I got this one by the balls.” She ambled back into the office behind the front desk. “Room phones don’t work,” she said over her shoulder. “If you need to use one, just come on down. I’ll be here until eight.” Ziggy and Avery exhaustedly followed Jasper up the stairs toward their suite.

  “Like, Louis Armstrong actually stayed here, man?” Ziggy asked as he touched the peeling and slightly damp wallpaper in the stairway.

  “Hell, no!” said Jasper as he lugged the roller bag and lawn sack up the narrow staircase. “That man had class.”

  • • •

  To: The Administrator

  National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA)

  Dear Sir:

  I’m writing to inform you of a recent change in galactic title regarding a specific stellar object. Three years ago, through a well-known and highly regarded international registry organization, I purchased the naming rights to a star. This particular celestial object resides at Right Ascension 14 hours, 45 minutes, and 8.42 seconds and Declination 41 degrees, 11 minutes, and 32.22 seconds. Since obtaining the naming rights, this star has been known as Averius Maximus. Now, after three years of “open and notorious possession,” I’m claiming full title and complete and unequivocal ownership of this astronomical object under the State of Texas Adverse Possession laws. As the rightful owner of this star, I am willing to grant your organization the opportunity to post an image of my star on your website’s “Image of the Day Gallery,” along with a detailed press release that I will happily provide. After one day of free use, any attempt to utilize photographic or written descriptions of Averius Maximus will need to be licensed through my holding company Averius Maximus, Inc.

  Sincerely,

  Avery Bartholomew Pendleton />
  P.S. – Redirection of any available telescopes or nearby research satellites in order to provide a detailed analysis of solar mass, luminosity, radius, and chemical composition for Averius Maximus would be greatly appreciated and will factor significantly in favorable future image licensing terms.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Our House Wine Is Wild Turkey

  Avery shut down his laptop as another marauding drop of dank rainwater dripped from the ceiling and landed on his head. He’d already moved around the small, dingy hotel room three times this morning in search of a safe place to compose his latest correspondence. Avery wiped his nose and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. The combination of humidity, mold, and occasional gunfire had played havoc with him all night. However, from Avery’s perspective, the worst feature of their lodging arrangement was the constant scratching sound of something mysterious moving behind the hotel room’s walls. He’d tossed and turned more than he slept. His rolling and kicking had ultimately pushed Ziggy out of their shared bed sometime in the early morning hours. Ziggy now lay curled up in the corner using his plastic trash bag as a makeshift blanket and a pile of spare clothes as a pillow. Avery ambled across the room and turned on the television. It had sound but no picture. He turned it off.

  “Like, yeah, baby,” Ziggy mumbled in his twitching sleep. “Like, don’t stop with, like, the whipped cream. Like, more whipped cream, baby.”

  “Wake up, you lazy deviant.” Avery kicked at Ziggy.

  “Like, what?” Ziggy sputtered as he bolted upright. “Dude, you, like, foiled my awesome dream,” he said as he rubbed his face. “Bummer, man. Like, total bummer for the Zigster.”

  “Get ready, pervert. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. The conference starts at noon. I don’t want to be late.”

  “Like, are we still going to the voodoo shop first?” Ziggy asked as he pulled on his sandals.

  “No time for that,” Avery replied as he changed out of his bathrobe and into his tracksuit. “One must prioritize.”

  “But, like, you promised,” Ziggy moaned.

  “I rarely keep the promises I make to myself. How can you possibly expect me to keep the ones I make to you?”

  “But, dude,” Ziggy complained. “I really, like, need to check that place out that Pappy was talking about. It’s the, like, the real deal, man. No fake stuff. It’s all legit.”

  “Out of the question.”

  “Then I’m, like, out, man.”

  “Out of what?”

  “Like, this place, dude. Where’s the bus station?” Ziggy crammed his belongings back into his trash bag. “This bites, man. You, like, lied. That’s bad karma, man. Like, really bad karma.”

  “You’re going nowhere,” Avery said as he slid into his black high-tops. “A manservant never abandons his master.”

  “Hey, man. I’m, like, your wingman. Not a slave. Like, no wonder you don’t have more friends.”

  “I don’t require friends.” Avery strapped on his fanny pack. “In my experience, friendship tends to clutter an otherwise perfectly good relationship between two people. Keep people at arm’s length at all times. It keeps them away from your wallet.”

  “Like, fine then.” Ziggy sat down cross-legged on the dirty hotel room’s carpet and inhaled loudly.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Holding my breath.”

  “Why?”

  “So you’ll, like, change your mind,” Ziggy replied.

  “Why would that change my mind?”

  “Like, if they find me dead they’ll, like, blame you,” Ziggy said as he suddenly exhaled and then took another deep breath.

  “You’re not doing a very good job with this plan of yours,” Avery said as he watched Ziggy’s face slowly turn scarlet. “I suggest you avoid pearl diving.” After a few moments, Ziggy began to shake. “Knock it off, Ziggy!” Avery barked. Ziggy continued to hold his breath. In addition to trembling, he emitted a high-pitched whining sound. “Enough!” Avery yelled as he began pacing back and forth. “You’re the last person on the planet who can afford to lose any more brain cells!” Ziggy’s face was beginning to turn purple. “Okay, fine!” Avery exploded. “We’ll stop at the damn voodoo shop on the way.” Ziggy collapsed sideways onto the floor and proceeded to cough uncontrollably.

  “Like, you mean it?” Ziggy asked after a few moments.

  “Yes, but only for a minute.”

  “Far out, man. This is, like, going to be awesome.”

  “Only for a minute,” Avery repeated as he headed for the door.

  “Right on, man.” Ziggy launched himself up and followed Avery into the musty hallway. “You know, for minute there, I think I, like, crossed into the afterlife.”

  “Really?” Avery asked sarcastically. “Did you find God?”

  “I, like, didn’t know he was missing,” Ziggy replied with a puzzled look on his face. “Seriously, though, man, it was, like, the afterlife and everything.”

  “Amazing,” Avery replied with a yawn.

  “Totally, dude.”

  “What did it look like?” Avery asked as he lumbered down the hotel’s staircase.

  “Like the world’s largest music store, man. Except everything was, like, eight tracks only, dude.”

  “Did you see an eight-track player?”

  “Like, no, man.”

  “You know why?”

  “Why?” Ziggy asked.

  “Because they don’t make them anymore.”

  “So?”

  “All the music in the world, but in an unusable format. Congratulations, Ziggy. You’ve just seen a glimpse of your afterlife, and it’s in hell.”

  “Bummer, man,” Ziggy said dejectedly as they reached the bottom of the staircase and entered the hotel lobby. Momma Dee sat behind the reception desk, working on a crossword puzzle.

  “Innkeeper,” Avery said, announcing his presence. “Where would someone find food in this less than gentrified neighborhood?”

  “Ain’t much round here unless you head back towards the Quarter,” Momma Dee said without looking up from her puzzle. “After the hurricane, most places in these parts never opened back up. What’s a three-letter word for a large antelope?”

  “Like, why did you stay and everything?” asked Ziggy.

  “Because I’m, like, spearheading the gentrification and everything,” Momma Dee said with a sneer. “There’s a small market two blocks down,” she said as she pointed vaguely in the direction of the street out front. “You can get a bite to eat there.” She turned her attention back to her crossword. “Ain’t nothing fancy.”

  “Fine,” Avery said. “In addition, we require use of your telephone.”

  “In the office.” Momma Dee pointed behind her. “No long distance or nine hundred numbers, or I’ll throw your pasty butts out. Antelope, three letters?”

  “A gnu. Ziggy,” Avery commanded. “Contact that babbling cab driver. Tell him we’re in need of transportation immediately. I’m off in search of sustenance. I shall return shortly.”

  “Like, okay.” Ziggy searched his pockets for Pappy’s phone number. “Hey, man, I could, like, really go for some granola and soy milk,” he said as he looked up, only to see that Avery had already left. “Drag, man,” he mumbled as he went in back to use the phone.

  A few minutes later, Avery spotted the small convenience store. It was the only business open on the block. The rest were locked or boarded up. A bell on the front door jangled as Avery pushed his way inside. An old black man behind the counter seemed to ignore his entrance. Avery snatched two bottles of Mountain Dew from the beverage cooler before noticing a hot dog warmer near the counter. He approached it. Three shriveled hotdogs turned slowly on the cylindrical heating rods. They looked as weathered as the old man behind the counter.

  “How long have these suspicious meat tubes been sitting out?” Avery asked.

  “A while,” the man replied.

  “Today?”

  “No, sir. Can’t get the flavor in
one day.”

  “What flavor?”

  “The right flavor. It takes time, you know?”

  “Not really,” Avery replied as he took a cardboard container and placed three stale buns in it. Avery searched for some tongs to pick up the crinkly sausages from the slowly spinning warming rack. “Utensils?” he asked hopefully.

  “Ran out. Just use your hands. Don’t bother me none.”

  “Hands?”

  “Good Lord gave you two.”

  “You sure?”

  “Boy, just grab them wieners,” the perturbed man said. “They don’t bite. Once them hogs go in the grinder, they lose their hostility right quick.”

  “Gross,” Avery groaned as he fished out the hot dogs and placed them in the buns. “Mustard packets?”

  “Ran out. Snatch that mustard off the shelf over there and dress them up how you like.”

  “Fantastic,” Avery said sarcastically as he pulled a plastic container of mustard off a shelf containing a variety of condiments and hot sauces. He broke the seal and gave each hot dog a healthy squirt. “What do you want me to do with this?” Avery held the mustard container toward the old man.

  “Put it back on the shelf. It’s still good.”

  Avery paid for his meal and wandered back down the deserted street toward the Sonesta Royale. Waiting in front of the hotel, Ziggy and Pappy leaned on the hood of Pappy’s cab. Pappy was waving his arms emphatically as he lectured the wide-eyed Ziggy about the difference between New Orleans and African voodoo. Avery approached the cab and handed one of the grisly-looking hotdogs to Ziggy.

  “You, like, got to hear this Avery,” Ziggy said excitedly. “Pappy’s got this, like, trippy place for us to check out. I’m, like, totally stoked, man.”