The Easy Way or the Heart Way
Mr. Porcupine pulled up in an oversized monster truck flying a Texas flag. Across the back was a giant sticker: EVERYTHING IS BIG IN TEXAS EXCEPT PORCUPINES.
The monster truck was so large that Mr. Porcupine couldn’t parallel-park it anywhere near the house.
He pulled alongside the curb.
Backed up.
Pulled forward.
Backed up again.
After several attempts, the truck was still sitting diagonally across the street.
Eventually, the entire crew had to climb out.
Mr. Porcupine sent the koala to knock on one of the neighbors’ doors.
A woman answered.
“Excuse me,” the koala said. “Would you mind moving your car forward?”
She looked past him at the monster truck occupying most of the street.
“How far?”
“Preferably into the next neighborhood.”
“We need enough room for him to parallel-park,” the koala explained.
The woman stared at the black cat holding a coil of rope.
“What exactly are you people doing?”
“Heart repossession.”
The woman slowly closed the door.
A moment later, her car moved.
Once the monster truck was finally badly parked, Mr. Porcupine adjusted his shredded cowboy hat and strutted toward the house, the enormous heels of his pointed cowboy boots striking the pavement with every step.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
He planted himself on the porch, stretched as tall as the boots would allow, and knocked.
When the man opened the door, Mr. Porcupine lifted his chin and cleared his throat.
“Mr. Porcupine,” he said. “Texas Heart Repossession Division.”
“We’re here,” Mr. Porcupine said, “to repossess one witch’s heart and return it to its original owner. Her name is Cin.”
Cin?” the man said. “Is that short for cinnamon? cinematic?”
“Both,” said Mr. Porcupine.
“Doesn’t sound familiar at all.”
Mr. Porcupine showed him a photograph of the heart.
The man studied it closely.
“I’ve collected many hearts,” he said, “but I’ve never seen one like that.”
“That’s because it’s a witch’s heart,” Mr. Porcupine explained. “They’re extremely rare. There are only a few of them left in this dimension.”
“It’s understandable that you might not remember. Some people suffer from emotional amnesia. Fortunately, we have a locator.”
He pulled out a small device.
“The signal leads directly to this property.”
He pointed dramatically toward the garage.
“So,” he continued, “we can do this the easy way or the heart way.”
The koala shifted awkwardly.
“Boss,” he said, “we already did it the heart way.”
Mr. Porcupine turned.
Behind him, the black cat was emerging through a huge hole in the garage wall, dragging the witch’s heart across the floor with a rope while carrying a case of popsicles in his other paw.
The man stared in horror.
“You destroyed my garage just to take back that witch’s heart?”
Mr. Porcupine narrowed his eyes.
“Aha,” he said. “So you do know exactly whose heart this is.”
The crew loaded the heart into the monster truck.
“You’re going to pay for this damage,” the man said.
Mr. Porcupine looked over at the enormous hole in the garage.
“No, I’m not.”
“Your crew did that.”
“Exactly,” Mr. Porcupine said. “My crew did it. I didn’t.”
“They work for you.”
“That doesn’t make me responsible for everything they do.”
The man pointed at the ruined garage. “I’m pressing charges.”
Mr. Porcupine gave a small shrug.
“Then you’ll have to come to Texas.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s where I live.”
“And even if you do come,” Mr. Porcupine continued, “California has no jurisdiction over Texas. They’ll throw the whole thing out.”
“I merely traveled here from Texas to recover stolen emotional property.”
Mr. Porcupine turned and strutted back toward the monster truck in his pointed-toe cowboy boots. The enormous heels struck the pavement with every step.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
His exit took much longer than expected.
“Good luck proving anything.”
“Wait,” the man said. “How much is she paying you to recover the heart?”
“You know what? Whatever she’s paying you, I’ll add another zero to it.”
Mr. Porcupine stared at him.
“If you could just give it back,” the man said.
Mr. Porcupine pulled out his calculator and added another zero.
“That works,” he said. “You owe me one hundred dollars.”
“That’s no problem.”
The man pulled out a roll of ten-dollar bills.
“You know what?” the man said. “I really don’t care about the garage anymore.”
Mr. Porcupine paused.
“You don’t?”
“I just remembered that I have rodent-damage insurance.”
“So thank you,” the man continued. “You’ve basically paid for the renovation of my garage door.”
Mr. Porcupine looked back at the enormous hole.
“We did?”
“Yes. You’ve been extremely helpful.”
The black cat started choking on the stolen popsicle.
The man smiled.
“Honestly, you’ve been a blessing sent from Texas.”
“And don’t tell her I bought the heart back because I care,” the man said. “It’s simply a rare specimen for my collection.”
Mr. Porcupine nodded while running a counterfeit pen across each ten-dollar bill.
One bill.
Then the next.
“If she wants the heart,” the man continued, “she can get on a plane or a boat and come claim it herself. I get airsick, carsick, and seasick.”
Mr. Porcupine held another bill up to the light.
“Understood.”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Of course.”
“What did I just say?”
Once again, the thought of money had completely porcupied Mr. Porcupine’s mind.
He marked the final ten-dollar bill with the counterfeit pen and completely ignored the man.
Earlier, Mr. Porcupine had made one of the neighbors move her car so he could parallel-park the monster truck. But while he stood at the door negotiating the return of the heart, someone else had parked only inches behind him.
When Mr. Porcupine finally turned to leave, he stared at the tiny gap behind the monster truck.
“Who parks like this?” he demanded.
Then demanded that the man helped him keep watch while he back up.
Once the monster truck was clear, Mr. Porcupine lowered the window.
“How do I get to the freeway?”
“Go straight, follow the street around, and it’ll be on your left.”
By the time they finally reached the freeway, the koala had started muttering to himself.
“It still makes no sense,” he said. “Accepting one hundred dollars when the witch was going to pay you a thousand.”
Mr. Porcupine whipped around.
“What did you say?”
“She offered you a thousand dollars.”
“I don’t remember her saying any of that.”
The koala stared at him.
“She did say it.”
“When?”
“When she gave you the ten-dollar deposit.”
“How did I miss that?”
“She said she would pay you the remaining nine hundred and ninety dollars after you delivered the heart.”
“I would remember that.”
“You were distracted.”
“By what?”
“By checking every dollar for counterfeits.”
Mr. Porcupine blinked.
The koala leaned forward.
“While you were counting them, she explained that the ten dollars was only a deposit. She said she would pay the rest after delivery because she didn’t trust you.”
Mr. Porcupine looked offended.
“She didn’t trust me?”
“Exactly. She said you’d already stabbed her in the back once at some acupuncture place.”
Mr. Porcupine thought for a moment.
“I remember her talking.”
“That was the payment agreement.”
“You told us to stay out of all negotiations.”
“She gave us a gas card and even packed lunches for us” the koala said.
Mr. Porcupine turned toward him.
“What lunches?”
“For the drive to California. Lunches, snacks, and refreshments.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Where are they?”
“They fell.”
“Where?”
“In our mouths.”
Mr. Porcupine looked toward the black cat.
“You gluttonous fat cat. Gluttony is a deadly sin!”
Then he turned back to the koala.
“So I lost nine hundred and ninety dollars?”
Mr. Porcupine pressed one tiny paw against the brake button on the controller.
The monster truck stopped.
Everyone flew forward.
The frozen popsicles shot from the backseat and punched through the windshield like projectiles.
One struck the hood of a nearby sedan.
A father ducked behind the steering wheel and pulled his son down with him.
“I didn’t know we were at war.”
His son looked out at the popsicles raining across traffic.
“America is always at war.”
Right after the popsicles went flying, Mr. Porcupine tried to make a getaway.
Unfortunately, California traffic was barely moving.
He pressed the controller forward, lurched ahead a few feet, and immediately stopped behind a line of cars.
Red and blue lights flashed behind him.
Mr. Porcupine looked in the mirror.
“Damn California,” he muttered. “You can’t even flee properly in this traffic.”
The officer approached the monster truck, practically rock-climbed his way up the side, and tapped on the door.
Mr. Porcupine lowered the window.
“License and registration.”
“Don’t you know who I am?”
“Are you a celebrity?”
“No. I’m a Texan. Ever heard ‘Don’t mess with Texas’?”
The officer nodded.
“Ever heard ‘Don’t trash California’?”
Mr. Porcupine frowned.
“We just watched frozen popsicles launch out of your vehicle and scatter across the freeway,” the officer said. “That’s littering.”
“As you may not know, Officer Cop, I happen to understand the law. I’ve spent enough time around courts to know my rights. Crimes committed by Texans in California cannot be prosecuted in Texas.”
“That may be true in Texas,” the officer said. “But here in California, crimes committed by Texans get double the penalty.”
Mr. Porcupine stared at him.
“And California loves overcrowding its prisons,” the officer said. “So everybody out. You’re all going to Alcatraz.”
“Wasn’t that prison condemned?” Mr. Porcupine asked.
“For everybody except Texan criminals.”
Mr. Porcupine demanded his phone call.
When they finally handed him the phone, he passed it to the koala.
“Call the witch,” he said. “Ask her how the weather is, then tell her we failed the mission and ask her to bail us out.”
The koala stared at him.
“But I don’t have the heart to tell her we don’t have her heart.”
“Just do it.”
A few minutes later, the koala hung up.
“What did she say?” Mr. Porcupine asked.
“She already knew we don’t have the heart.”
Mr. Porcupine froze.
“How does she know? Is she psychic?”
“No. She has access to the same app. She can see that the heart is back in the freezer and that he tossed a bag of frozen peas over it to hide it.”
Mr. Porcupine looked down.
“What else did she say?”
“She said she’s bringing the raven out of retirement to recover it.”
Mr. Porcupine gave a cautious nod.
“And she said he’s going to peck your eyes out.”
“His eyes?”
“Your eyes.”
Mr. Porcupine squealed like a pig and squeezed his eyes shut.