Gimmy Wolf (part 2)
Graham and Gotcha made plans to get out of the house as soon as they could – anything to get away from Gimmy.
Gimmy’s parents threw up their paws as well. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, every meal after every meal, “I’m gonna eat what I can eat, take what I can take. And, I’m gonna get what’s coming to me.”
Graham went off to acting school where he majored in grandmas. He played some minor roles in short stories and got a couple of leads in novels written by a guy from Oak Land. He eventually landed a gig on a reality show with a foxy chick named Redd and a drop dead good looking prince dude, Woody the Cutter.
Graham was really just happy to be away from Gimmy.
Gimmy, meanwhile, gnawed on stones, even chewed up a lamp post once to sharpen his teeth. He sure liked to eat. Gimmy was happy Graham was gone, too. He could eat even more without Graham around.
Gotcha finally left home, too. He skipped college and got a job terrorizing neighborhoods, which as it turns out he was very good at… very sly.
He ate little boys who couldn’t get any protection from loved ones or friends for whatever reason.
Gotcha never went hungry again. He was happy, too, because he didn’t have to share with Gimmy anymore.
He wrote a book on how to cook little boys, his most famous recipe being for boys in berry pie. You can get free samples at farmer’s markets in some small cities in California.
Gimmy stayed home and continued to do what he did best … eat and eat and eat and eat. Mama and Papa were at a loss. Even with Graham and Gotcha gone, every meal it was the same.
“Gimmy! You gotta learn to share. Gimmy! Stop taking everyone’s food.”
Gimmy’s response was the usual, though sometimes you couldn’t make it out because his mouth was full, “I’m gonna eat what I can eat, take what I can take. And, I’m gonna get what’s coming to me.”
Then one afternoon, actually it was every afternoon, but this one particular afternoon Gimmy got a special hankering for a snack. Mama, however, had nothing to offer for she hadn’t been to the market yet.
“Mama,” Gimmy said, “I heard we had some new neighbors move in. And Mama, I think I heard someone say them neighbors were pigs. And didn’t you say that you usually saw a little pig at the market? You know what, Mama? I think I’m gonna go get me that little pig and eat her. Cuz’, I’m hungry.”
“You’d better watch out, Gimmy. How many times do I need to tell you? You can’t just have whatever you want anytime you want.”
“Mama, ain’t you learned by now? I’m gonna eat what I can eat, take what I can take, and I’m gonna get what’s coming to me.” AGAIN!
Off Gimmy went. He’d grown up even more by now and was downright ferocious looking. His ears were tall and pointy like his brother Graham’s – the better to hear you with, Graham used to say.
Gimmy’s eyes, one hazel and one sky blue turned glossy when he knew he was going to get something to eat. His snout was long enough to nibble on his hind legs without straining his neck. His nostrils doubled in size - he could almost triple the size if he tried - when the scent of food was in the air.
And when he was really really hungry his dark red, almost maroon colored tongue hung down like a hangman’s noose and he drooled uncontrollably.
Gimmy came upon a house made from grass, that hadn’t dried out completely and was tied together with some tall weeds.
Gimmy knocked on the door. There was a SLAM around the back of the house. Gimmy’s nose jerked to the left and the rest of his body followed. He saw a little pig run out the back door crying,
“WE will die! WE will die! WE will die!”
But Gimmy could only make out the ‘WE” part clearly. Just as he was about to make chase he heard a little voice squeal from inside the house,
“You little coward!
“You can’t always run home when you are afraid!”
“Weeee….!” The little pig cried …all the way home.
Gimmy smirked and his nostrils grew real big. He knew then that there was still one more pig inside; the fat one that mama always saw at the market.
Gimmy started slobbering all over himself.