Gator A-GO-GO

City.

An empty wine cooler glanced off his forehead.

“Ow!”

In the bedroom, Country tried catching her breath after going off like a string of black-cat firecrackers. She wiped sweat from the blond hair matted across her face. “That was beyond incredible…”-still panting hard-“… The best I ever-”

“Just wait till round two.”

“Round two? I don’t think I can take any more.”

“You’ll take it and like it.”

He jumped up and went across the room in the dark.

“Where are you going?”

“To get more inspiration.”

Country strained to see in the blackness. “What are those sounds?”

“Shhhhhh!”

He returned to the bed, immediately picking up where they’d left off.

“… Oh, God!… Yes!… Yes!… Oh-… Hold on. Time out! Time out!… What the hell’s hitting me in the face?”

“Uh… nothing.”

More thrusts.

“Shit! You got me in the eye!” Country rolled over and clicked on the bedside lamp. She stared at Serge’s chest, then up at his face.

“What in the fuck?”

“Is something the matter?”

“What’s all that crap hanging from your neck?”

He looked down. “Oh, Tarzan’s five gold medals.”

“Gold medals?”

“From the Olympics.”

She looked at his chest again. “They’re just those chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil that you taped string to.”

Serge looked down again. A pause. “No, they’re not.”

“Yes, they are!” Country snatched one off a string, peeled the foil and took a bite.

A gasp. “The hundred-meter freestyle!”

“Sorry…” She set the coin on the nightstand. “Didn’t mean for you to have a cow.”

“No…,” said Serge, breathing quickly. “Heritage…”

She looked him in the eyes and dropped her voice a sensual pitch. “That turns you on, eh?” She grabbed the coin and took another bite, this time running her tongue around the edge first.

Country almost choked on it as Serge lost control and harpooned her deeper than ever before.

Her chin snapped up toward the ceiling. “… Yessssssssssssss!…” She snatched the rest of the coins from Serge’s neck and swatted the lamp off the nightstand, shattering its bulb on the floor.

On the other side of the wall, Coleman pointed at the TV with the remote. “No, you see, that’s why it’s so funny: The frog only sings and dances for the construction worker.”

“Frogs can’t sing and dance,” said City.

“This one can.”

“Hold it,” said City. “Turn down the volume.”

Coleman did, and they both listened to new sounds from the wall.

“… Yes!… Faster!… Harder!… Chocolate, mmmmm!… I’m unwrapping another one… ”

“… Eat the history!…”

LATER THAT NIGHT…

“Development, development, development!” said Serge. “Will they never stop with this state?”

“What are you going to do to me?” asked Miguel, a gun pressed to the middle of his back.

“Construction sites everywhere!” said Serge, carrying two large monkey wrenches over his left shoulder. “On the other hand, I love construction sites, especially at night. Ever since I was a kid, poking around with a flashlight to see how things are made and what’s going on inside walls. I’m naturally curious that way.”

“You’re the one who whacked Pedro, aren’t you?”

“No, that was gravity, the senseless killer.”

“You’re going to fire me into the air?”

“Negative.” They walked past a pallet of bricks. “But you will be facing gravity, so I suggest you start thinking of a counterstrategy. I always am. Like a jet pack. You wouldn’t know where I can get one?”

Miguel shook his head.

Serge began to smile as they stepped through the wire mesh of a concrete form. “There isn’t much security at construction sites, because who’s going to walk off with sheets of drywall and twelve-foot rebar except me? And that was just to take care of another jerk…”

Miguel began to weep.

“… Plus this place is totally unguarded, lucky for us. Well, for me. There’s luck for you, too, but it’s not the right kind.”

Weeping became racking sobs.

“Buck up,” said Serge. “You weren’t too misty when your gang was trying to kill Andy. He’s just a kid, for heaven’s sake.”

“That wasn’t my idea,” said Miguel. “I was going to try and stop it. You have to believe me!”

“Really?”

Miguel nodded furiously.

“Then I guess the only fair thing is to show some mercy.”

“You’re going to let me go?”

“I said some mercy. Jesus, you give people an inch…“ Serge tucked the gun in his pants.”Now lie on your stomach right there. And don’t try anything. I’m a pretty quick draw.”

Miguel flopped down. Serge clamped the monkey wrenches on a circular metal hatch and pulled in opposite directions.

Creak.

“Wow, that was easy. Probably didn’t even need those things.” He tossed the wrenches in the dirt and unscrewed the loosened hatch the rest of the way.

The gun came out again. “On your feet.”

“I’ll give you money.”

“Get in.”

Miguel stared through the opening, then back at Serge. “In there?”

“It’s a two-foot hatch, but you should fit.”

“Isn’t it full of-”

Serge shook his head. “Completely empty. They don’t fill until ready for use. Otherwise it destroys the works.”

“But I’ll suffocate.”

“Not a chance. It’s deceptive, but there’s a ton of room once you’re inside, more than enough air till morning.” Serge pulled a flashlight off his belt and held it together with the gun, sweeping its beam through the hole. “Loads of space. The real trick is the blades.”

“Oh my God! I’ll be chopped to pieces!”

“Will you stop making everything worse than it is?” Serge aimed the flashlight through the hole again. “You must be a real treat on long trips… See? They’re just generally called blades, but the edges are completely dull. And