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Tomda 11) An apple a day, isn’t enough to keep the cops away.

The creature had come out of nowhere. It grabbed the top of the cart from the front, pulled itself up as it jumped, and then kept going right toward me. Teeth first.

I lifted my hand up high to try to block it, and I remembered the half empty package of hot dogs as they crinkled up in my hand.

Without thinking about it, I shoved the package, and my hand past its teeth, and right down its throat.

It jerked back and made a “Hork” sound as it clutched at its neck while balanced precariously on top of my groceries. It didn't bite down on my hand, but it still left three deep cuts in my skin as I pulled myself free from its mouth, leaving the plastic hot dog package behind, lodged deep in its throat.

As I stumbled back and it choked, Chubby bit at its foot, Blue wiggled away from it deeper down in between the grocery bags, and Mama Coyote popped up to chomp down on the Lasherl’s arm and pulled it off the cart.

My first concern was... are there any more? But I didn’t see any. Second concern. How badly am I hurt? Blood was flowing down my arm. Flowing, not spraying. It was going to hurt like hell once the shock wore off, but I had time.

Third concern. Kill it.

I had put the putter across the top of the basket just in front of the handle, and the palm of my bleeding hand was still dry as I grabbed it by the handle. Even though I was now feeling the pain from getting my hand scrapped up by the Lasher’s teeth, I was still able to get a good grip on the putter.

Pain is something an old man like me is used to, and something I work through every day just to get out of bed. I raised the working end of the putter up over my head…

And tottered over four steps to catch up to where Wylina was keeping it from getting to its feet or clawing at her by dragging it continuously along the pavement. The Imp was alternating between weakly trying to roll over and claw at her and cutting up the inside of its mouth with its claws trying to get the package of hot dogs out of its throat so it could breathe.

What? Are you too good for mostly chicken hot dogs? Go ahead and choke on them you vile… thing.

I caught up with it and smashed it in the chest with the putter with all my feeble old man strength. I was trying to hit it in the face, but Wylina was still jerking it along keeping it from getting its feet under it.

She had swung her butt around to give her the whole length of the street to drag it down, and it would probably suffocate on the plastic before she ran out of room. But I wanted to kill it myself.

It’s… wrong. It doesn't belong in my world, my neighborhood, and I didn’t want to drag this out until more of them showed up.

I beat on it with the putter a few more times before its whole body shuddered and went limp. I don’t think I was the one to kill it so much as the three hot dogs and the wrapper down its throat, but beating on it had to have helped put it down.

Grining at Wylina, I told her “I guess processed meat is bad for you. Huh, huh?” She yawned and began to trot back to the cart and her pups who were whining at us.

Should I try to get the hot dogs back? After all, it isn't going to finish them, is it?

...Hmm. …No. Maybe if the package was still sealed, but now it’s got the thing’s spit all over it. Darn shame, it cost a buck fifty, which with three left would be… fifty six some cents of my money worth of meat.

“Damned evil monkeys. Those were for special treats. I’m glad you choked on it.”

I made it almost all the way home without any more problems, only to see a cop car waiting in front of my house and the same two cops from before getting out of it.

The older fat guy was looking over at me, while Wylina and the younger guy were both looking around for any dangers, but then both cops began staring at the coyote.

Fat Cop seemed confused, and the younger cop looked concerned.

I keep rolling the cart in the direction of my house, each step getting me closer to a run for my front door. As I reached my driveway I gave them a friendly nod.

“Austrian Kennel Hounds. I rescued them from the pound.”

The fat one nodded after a moment, not wanting to think about it too much. The younger guy started to say something, then stopped to look at the pups who were looking back at him from where they were hiding in the grocery bags.

He pointed, “What happened to that one’s face.”

I pointed at Chubby. He shook his head and tried to indicate it was the other pup, so I then pointed at Wylina, and he frowned. Oh well, games up. "Tangled with a wild cat. Lost an eye. Very tragic.”

The fat cop waved dismissively at his partner and took a breath to begin to talk, but then jerked his head forward with a shout of pain.

He looked down at the big fat yellow and red apple that someone had beaned him in the back of his head, his partner had whipped around with his hand on his gun and was frozen in place. Staring gap jawed at who threw it.

The dryad was not a nubile fey seducer of men, not yet anyways. But she was stark naked as she stood there completely out of her tree. All scrawny seven year old sized and developed three feet ten inches of her.

I guess I gave her enough juice last night… I am so glad I only said that in my head.

Fat Cop turned around and also began to stare before he averted his eyes, then turned around to look at me with a "What the hell?" look on his face, catching me just as I had begun to turn the cart towards my backyard.

And I nearly would have got away with it if it wasn’t for that kid not wearing any clothes not keeping up the distraction.

“My niece. Grand niece. She has a skin condition.”

Fat cop gave me a look and asked me "Really?" in a tone of disbelief.

Younger Cop also turned around and began to say something, just before he took an apple in the back of his head as well.

For someone two days old, and a girl, she had a heck of an arm.

Turning around to glare at her, the younger cop was able to see her press her hands together, then twist them with a cupping motion before she pulled them apart to show off another apple that had appeared in her hands.

She began tossing it up and down in one hand while glaring at the two cops.

The younger one gave me a side glance, not wanting to look away from her entirely.

I shrugged. “What can I say? She doesn't like cops. After all. She’s colored.”

The young cop, the young black cop, began to protest before the fat guy waved him into silence again.

“Can you call her off Mr Bright, we’re just here to talk about you, and your class. We ran your address and got your records with your birthdate. We know you got a class.”

I frowned, considered making a run for it, decided that even the fat guy could catch me with both of us on foot, and then waved at the dryad. “It’s okay… Applecrisp.” No, too long. “AC. Just go back into your tree, these nice jack booted thu… police officers are just going to help with my groceries.”

She frowned at me. Then carefully set her apple on the ground, pointed at me, then at the apple, before she turned around and walked seamlessly back into her tree.

Hm. I guess she is going to pay rent.

Or she wants me to be armed with produce. Either way, I appreciate the sentiment.

The two cops looked at the tree, and then at me.

“What? You are going to help carry in my groceries? Right?