under cover goose on the Titanic

Part 17 - The Beaver Terminator

I almost broke a leg on the way school the next morning. It was raining hard and the sidewalk was a frictionless channel of water on top of ice. Skating would have been easier but I had outgrown my skates and Grandma had given them to the Salvation Army. A school bus roared through the icy pools on the road spraying me with water. It was full of grinning grade three kids, their faces pressed against the windows. I was thoroughly soaked and cold by the time I got to school.

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When I got home, Pacman was sprawled on the couch but he turned around and opened his jaws in a huge yawn of welcome.

'How come you never bark?' I asked although I already knew the answer. He considered barking so juvenile. He was working on his wolf howling. It still sounded a bit feeble but he was improving.

I noticed a bag of dog biscuits on the kitchen table and wondered if they were any good to eat. They would make a change from bananas. Pacman heard the rustle of me opening the package so I tossed him a biscuit. It landed on the couch and he sat on it. I guess he was still dreaming about filet mignon.

'It's about time for your hair cut,' I told him. 'I can't tell which end is which.'

For desert, I found a long forgotten bagel in the fridge. I popped it in the microwave for ten seconds, to soften it up, and dropped it into the toaster.

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Soon afterward Grandma arrived from work accompanied by two elderly ladies carrying several plastic shopping bags. I had a sudden flash of hope that they might contain food.

As they took off their coats, Grandma introduced her two friends, Emma and Beryl. They were small, ancient women who might have been twins except Emma was plump and Beryl looked frail enough to float away in a light breeze. Emma had long grey hair but Beryl looked like a character from The Rocky Horror Show with spiky orange hair, black boots, net stocking, black mini skirt and a leather jacket.

I fell in love with Emma when she gave me a friendly smile and a paper bag. 'Ziff, I made some cookies for you.' She even got my name right.

'Thanks, very much,' I said happily as I munched. Beryl dumped the rest of the bags on the kitchen table and they all sat down.

Emma and Beryl need a place to stay,' Grandma announced. 'They're going to couch surf for a few days.'

'The couch is too small,' I joked.

'I'll let them have the double bed,' Grandma remarked sharply. 'I can sleep on your bed and you can sleep on the couch.'

'We had a fire at our apartment building,' Emma explained. 'I tried to warn the neighbours but Beryl insisted I help salvage her gun collection before the police arrived. She was worried in case the ammo started exploding.'

Beryl laughed. 'We've been camping out at my Kung Fu club but the club manager was worried I would turn it into a biker club hangout so we had to leave.' They all giggled.

Beryl took off her black leather jacket, spread a plastic garbage bag on the kitchen table and started taking black metal objects from her shopping bag. She arranged them neatly on the table as if she were setting up a chess board. Grandma put the kettle on the stove to make tea while Emma unpacked the grocery bag.

Pacman, attracted by the aroma of machine oil and old fireworks, hopped up onto a chair for a better view as Beryl carefully assembled the objects like an intricate jigsaw puzzle. She patted him on the head. 'What a ferocious wolf you have Ziff but he really is a darling.' Pacman hopped with delight at the compliment and instantly adopted Beryl as a full member of his pack.

'Is that a toy gun?' I asked.

'Yerse.' She grinned at me sardonically. 'A Uzi is an Israeli designed, urban assault weapon. It fires nine millimetre rounds at ten per second, weighs four kilograms and is only 65 cm long so, with the stock folded, it fits into my purse.'

She might have been knitting socks for all the notice Emma and Grandma paid. They were busy chopping up food, chatting and cooking. I watched, fascinated, as Beryl dismantled the gun with the skill of long practice.

'But, isn't it an illegal handgun?'

'Yup.' She grinned again. 'But I do have a hand gun licence . . . for hunting beavers.'

'You need a machine gun for beavers?'

Beryl looked pained. 'We gun nuts prefer to call it a semi automatic. It sounds nicer when you cut a beaver in half.

'But how can you kill a beaver? It's a national icon.'

'They get really nasty when you blow up their dams.'

'But they're really cute.'

That's what the owners of waterfront properties say until the cute beavers start cutting down their beautiful old growth maple trees. Then they call in the Beaver Terminator, me.'

'Where did you get it?'

'At the Bank Street pawn shop. The pawn broker said it was a replica but I could tell he wanted to get rid of it fast. He let me haggle him down to three hundred dollars . . . including the suppressor and ammo. He figured a little old lady like me wouldn't embarrass him by robbing a bank. Heh! Heh! Heh!' She giggled as if that was her next project.

Beryl, snapped an empty magazine clip into the pistol grip, screwed a suppressor onto the barrel and pointed it at the ceiling. 'Brrrp,' she made a sound like a machine gun. 'Now, if the Americans find out where Canada is, I'm ready for 'em.'

She quickly dismantled the Uzi, neatly wrapped each part in a rag, packed it away in a shoe box and went to the bathroom to wash her hands.

I was not happy about sharing the couch with Pacman but I was consoled by the delicious smell from the kitchen stove.

It was the best supper in months. I was stuffed with Emma's delicious pork chops, peas and mashed potatoes followed by frozen cheese cake. Feeling warm and sleepy and stuffed, I curled up in on the couch whilst Emma, Grandma and Beryl sat at the table chatting. Grandma was saying, 'That's when my foolish son-in-law got himself lost in China and my dim-witted daughter insisted on looking for him.'

I started falling asleep but I woke up as Beryl yelled, 'He's been kidnapped by one of those global economy biker gangs. Mark my words, one of these days, the Americans are going to find out where Canada is. Then we'll be in trouble!'

I woke up again later when I heard my name. 'I warned Helen about spoiling that kid,' Grandma was saying. 'He's just like his foolish father. He has too many ideas for his own good. If she doesn't put a stop to it, he'll turn into an engineer or something equally dangerous.'

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 Uzi machine gun with stock folded