Officer Goongola

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, hanging out with the kids, watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, when the doorbell rang. I sighed. Who would dare interrupt family time?

"I'll get it!" Makani ran to the door, two little sisters right behind her.

From my comfy nest in the living room, I heard a deep voice. "Is your mother home?"

Great. Just great.

At the door, I found myself face to face with a tower of a man in a black suit, broad shoulders and large meaty hands, too wide and too tall to see all of him through the door. One of those big hands could've encompassed most of my throat. Eyes smoldered from a face that looked like it was chiseled out of stone. A chill ran down my spine.

"Ms. Webb?" he said. "I am here to ask a few questions."

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"Officer Guindaloon, ma'am." He flashed a badge, but so quickly I had no time to see what department he worked for, let alone if the picture matched. "I want to know what you can tell me about the Sandbox."

"You have a warrant?" It was a delay tactic; my mind raced. How was I going to get out of this mess?

"I'm a Fed." He sneered. "I don't need a warrant, ma'am. Not cooperating will be assumed as hostile behavior, and we will take you into custody."

"Officer Goongola, did you say?"

"Officer Guindaloon." The mountain pouted. It's hard to watch such a big man act like a baby.

"Look, Goongola," I said, peeking out onto the street. You never knew who might be listening. "Why don't you come in for some coffee? I don't think this is an appropriate place for this kind of conversation."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~


The giant dwarfed my kitchen table, and the mug looked like a toy in his hands. He took a sip and I put a few cookies on the plate.

Rita: What type of donut do you eat? Do you dunk it in milk or coffee or nothing?
Officer: Boston cream is my favorite. I don't dunk at all. feds
don't dunk, too messy. Everything must be tidy.

Rita: Why haven't the Feds caught the terrorists yet?
Officer: Well, having 7 doppelgangers, we were chasing spooks, but that number is dwindling down. We're getting close.

Rita: I have 3 kids, officer, and we've already had an unwelcome Christmas Eve guest. What kind of measures are being taken to prevent any further terrorist attacks?
Officer: That information is classified right now.

Rita: What is your favorite color?
Officer: black and blue...which is what the terrorists will be when we're through.

Rita: Will the feds work in cooperation with the Sandbox? Or will they oppose this rogue group?
Officer: The Feds will accept any help whatsoever in conjunction with this investigation. However, if we find that The Sandbox or any rogue group withholding information; that will be considered as obstruction of justice. To which, we take very seriously and will prosecute any who do so.

Rita: What do you see when you look at this blot of ink?
Officer: Breasts, sumptuous breasts.

Rita: What do you know about the alleged ring that GergisKhan wore?
Officer: Looks like something that opens up a portal of such... we're investigating the ring...

Rita: Thank you for your time, Officer.
Officer: No, thank you. I WILL need some DNA for identification purposes, as you know.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~


And here I thought I had pulled the wool over his eyes. At least, I didn't have to answer any questions about the Sandbox or CJ or Rico.

However, he took a blood test, and the results were inconclusive. They cuffed me and put me in the back of a dark gray truck.

Once again, I found myself driven around town and thrown into a lab. Where, I don't know. They took another blood sample, a patch of skin, a bit of hair. Then they left me in an examination room for hours. The door was locked; the cupboards were bare, not even an old bone to chew on; and no place to sit but the cold, hard floor.

The only thing to do was to read a copy of a book titled Ménage à 20, Tales with a Hook. Rather an entertaining book, I might add. I highly recommend it.

Finally, the doctors determined I was safe and sent me home.

"We'll be watching, Ms. Webb," Officer Goongola said before he left.

"Big Brother usually is," I grumbled as I unlocked the door. Whatever surveillance they had on me probably picked that up. Oh well.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~


Disclaimer: This is a fictional story, written by reader input. To read more, click here and start at the bottom.

Thanks to those who have cooperated and added to this story. Thank you, Officer Goongola Guindaloon, for a great interview.

This story is dedicated to the online Goodreads group On Fiction Writing and the authors of the Ménage à 20.

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