Groundhog of Doom

By Arlan Gerig

Andrea bit her lip, watching the dangerous groundhog sit on its hind legs, sniff the air, and exhale a wisp of smoke. Then it resumed eating grass.

Whenever Andrea needed repairs or a project done, she called Joe Enza before anyone else. He was dependable and always ready to help. That’s why she liked Joe, but only as a friend.

On more than one occasion, her parents had nagged that an attractive young woman like herself should find a man to settle down with and give them grandchildren. But Joe, with his affinity for hiring unreliable help that quit when things got tough and working long hours that resulted in him acquiring strange diseases, was not that guy. Joe was just a helpful friend.

She glanced at his rusty pickup parked at the curb. Right now, she needed him to remove the fire-breathing groundhog living under her shed. That pesky beast had nearly burned down her shed twice before Joe set up flame-retardant foam dispensers hooked up to smoke alarms.

She would never settle for that damnable creature holding power over the existence of her riding mower, weed eater, and other outdoor items.

Andrea waited, holding her breath, while the groundhog waddled toward her precious shed. The last straw came when the groundhog stopped and winked at her.

She sprinted toward it, yelling any epithet that popped into her head, with the unfortunate effect of driving the groundhog even faster toward her shed. Blasts of flame singed the grass as it disappeared into one of its holes.

Andrea rounded the shed and plowed into Joe, knocking him over. She grabbed his shirtsleeve, but he landed with a grunt. She had only succeeded in getting his long hair tangled around her fingers. Ironically, none of that hair grew on top of his head, making him look like a weird monk in mechanic’s clothes.

Joe groaned as she helped him stand. “Ya know, Andrea, ya can’t just scare groundhogs away. And the flaming kind are liable to light up the whole neighborhood and stuff.”

“I’ve heard you say that before.” Andrea’s cheeks warmed. “Sorry.”

Joe spit and examined the groundhog hole. “Dang critters don’t realize what a menace they are. Wouldn’t be quite so bad if they hadn’t gotten that genetic abnormality from those Louisiana fire ants. Guess it was only a matter of time till it spread to fireflies and the flowers they pollinated.”

Andrea nodded. Once flowers contained pollen filled with the abnormality, it didn’t take long for that gene to spread to groundhogs and other species that caught it through eating infected flowers and vegetables.

“Joe, what are you going to do? Can you try trapping it again?”

He smirked. “Almost fried me to a crisp after it broke free last time. Don’t worry, Andrea. I’ll get rid of it.”

Andrea chewed her nails while she watched him drive a crane across her yard. He hooked up chains to the end of the shed and gave a thumbs up.

“Once I lift your shed, it should skedaddle, and we can fill the holes with dirt and stones and stuff. Then no more groundhog.”

“Will that keep it away? It doesn’t behave like a normal groundhog.”

Joe scratched the bald top of his head and stared at the crane.

“Yeah, they’re as predicable as that bird attack I had a couple years ago. One moment I’m relaxed, enjoying an ice cream in Burbank, next moment I’m dive-bombed by vicious seagulls pecking me to death.”

“What’d you do?” His unusual stories were a welcome distraction.

“’Course I dropped my cone and high-tailed it for the nearest enclosed area, which happened to be a pet store. Probably where I picked up salmonella and stuff.”

Andrea wrinkled her nose. “Salmonella from a pet store? You shouldn’t let strange dogs lick you, Joe. Well, do what you have to.”

In their brief conversation, smoke had formed around the base of her shed, and with it the acrid odor of burning wood. Andrea choked and backed away.

Joe cursed, lumbering toward the smoke alarms situated on the opposite end of the shed. “Wouldncha know I turned off the alarms, since I’m moving your shed. Dang critter really doesn’t want to go. Kind of like those mice that invaded a cheese warehouse I was repairing—”

“Joe!” Andrea coughed and pointed to the smoke cloaking her precious shed.

Joe grabbed a fire extinguisher from the crane and sprayed the foundation. Andrea shrieked. The groundhog emerged and hacked a volcanic burst of flame. Wood crackled as the blaze crept up the side. Joe thrust the doors open and coughed as sparks and black, billowing plumes poured out. Andrea gasped as he dashed into the shed.

Andrea screamed his name, seeing nothing through the murky haze. She glanced at the mocking animal preening itself next to her fence.

“You miserable brute!” Andrea bellowed. She grabbed a fallen tree branch and ran at the groundhog.

It scampered through a burrow under her fence, spitting flames all the way. The grass charred. The fence crackled and smoked. The shed disappeared inside a billowing inferno, and Joe had still not emerged.

A loud puttering sound made Andrea turn. Joe appeared on her riding mower, careening it safely away from the burning catastrophe.

She rushed to give him a large hug. He reeked of smoke and gasoline, but she didn’t care. Losing her shed was terrible, but losing Joe would have been much worse. She tightened her hug.

“You shouldn’t have risked your life for a stupid mower.”

“Aw, anyone would’ve done the same.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Kind of reminds me of a time when crows nested in an old car I barely drove. It was twenty years ago…”

Andrea smiled, no longer listening to his tale. Knowing her faithful friend was safe was all she needed.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Arlan Gerig has stories published in Havok, Every Day Fiction, and the Animal Kingdom anthology. Arlan recently fulfilled a goal: a Bahamas mission trip to help Haitian refugees. When he’s not reading a great book, writing flash fiction, or bringing wizard apprentice Gwynfar to life in a YA fantasy novel, Arlan enjoys walking his two pit mixes around his Ohio neighborhood.

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