Detective Waffle Butter and the Orphan

Waffle Butter

Beating his face into red submission, the sun glared at the only man in a vast lonely field. The coolness of the shadows overtook the heat brought by the tyrannical rays of sunlight by a brave cloud riding the wind. The defeat of the wind gave way to the unforgivingly dry heat of the south despite the clouds' efforts to stop the sun. Wiping sweat from his brow, determination surging life into him, he kept up his search into the afternoon.

Cunning eyes shifted from side to side scanning for traces of a very certain group of monsters. Ever since he had become a detective Waffle Butter had heard whispers and rumors of a brutal mob of all mobs running loose in the south. His thick auburn hair graciously wisped in the reawakening of the wind.

He slowly scanned the ground once more, walking around the perimeter of the field and slowly making his way to the center of the seemingly endless sea of weeds and grass that had overgrown due to neglect. As he treaded closer to the center he stumbled over a small object. He looked down at the strange object, frowning, he picked it up, doubling it over in his hands. The object looked like a disembodied head with a noose composed of snakes devouring each other.

Waffle Butter heard rustling in the field and he leapt backwards as a rattle snake lunged at him with lion-like ferocity. The combat accustomed man stumbled backwards in surprise, piercing a precise hole in the head of the snake with his now smoking pistol. I'm getting a tad jumpy.....I should take a vacation he thought. With a sigh the detective headed home.

As he reached the town in the middle of nowhere the sun rosily blushed a reddish glow into the town. Though the town was small and in the middle of nowhere, it was still bustling. Carts full of pickled beets, fresh vegetables, bread, and more, and there in the center of the action standing tall next to two slouching buildings was the saloon. The building to the left of the saloon was the bank, usually well protected due to the sheriffs' office being right across from it. At the saloon's right stood detective Waffle Butters' office where he solved crimes. After a long day of hard work the detective liked to go to the saloon and have an ice cold drink, but today was far from over. The sun was setting, and the work was starting.

Detective Waffle Butter slowly walked across the street to get to the sheriffs' office.

"Dagummit I darn lost my teef again...... hey dat you detectif." In a drunken stumble the town drunk Rowan approached the detective.

"What now?" Waffle butter sighed tiredly.

"I lost mah teef and I don't know where I putem?" Rowan said

Waffle Butter stared into the old man's blank, hazy eyes sighin--g loudly, and saying the same thing he said every week, "Are they in your pocket."

Rowan fished around in the pockets of his grimmy trousers, and pulled out two crusty old fake front teeth, and popped them into his mouth. Gagging, the grossed out man watched the drunk old man stumble back into the saloon. The detective tiredly shuffled toward the sheriffs' office, occasionally waving to civilians enjoying the nightlife. The tall man pushed open the door just in time to see the sheriff slide right out of his chair with a loud thud. Other than the unconscious Sheriff on the ground, the place was rather tidy. On the sheriff's desk were some papers stacked neatly in a stack on the left corner of his desk, and a bottle of whiskey on the other. His musket and pistol neatly placed in a gun rack next to his keys to the cell in the corner of the small room. "What wan." The sheriff absently slurred.

"I got something for you first sober up, can't have my partner waltzin around drunk." The frustrated man answered as he tossed a flask of water into the sheriffs' stomach.

After the Sheriff finished the flask and could comprehend what reality he was in, Waffle Butter got down to business. " The gang I've been trackin-" Waffle Butter began.

"Is a hoax. I've never seen anything that shows they exist." The sheriff half grunted, half slurred. The detective tossed the medallion he had found on the desk. The sheriff's eyes seemed to grow bigger and bigger with every rotation of the slow spinning medallion.

"Has a medallion like symbol I'm not sure why.." Waffle Butter explained triumphantly.

"My God," The bug eyed man on the floor gasped, "if they truly do exist. Then all the rumors?"

"Haven't been rumors. They've been true events." Waffle Butter concurred.

"This doesn't bode well for this town or the United States huh?" The now standing officer asked almost to himself starkly.

"That sobered, you mighty quick didn't it." Waffle Butter chuckled, desperately reaching for some comedy in the situation.

The moon was fully overhead in the thick field of grass; the only thing missing was a howling wolf in the dead air to make this place that much creepier. Waffle Butter couldn't place where this feeling came from, but something was definitely wrong. He walked through the field without much thought for where he was going; Waffle Butter was too busy thinking. Suddenly the ground swept out from under him.