Cache of Ammo

My daughter and I went for a walk to the market, right down the street. We had a package to mail at the pharmacy / post office culminating with a stop at the grocery store to check out the super cereal price wars that seem to be underway.

On Puente St., the final stretch to the shopping center, the south side of the street is lined with a white fence running parallel to the sidewalk all the way down the street. We were talking, enjoying the mildest of sprinkles, when we observed a tan duffel bag on the other side of the fence, the side with the tall weeds and untended native growth.

“Hey, think we should see what’s in that duffel bag,” I asked.

“Yeah,” was all the encouragement I needed.

“OK, you stay here,” removing the backpack containing the package to mail and a reusable shopping bag to be employed at the market.

I walked around the fence, about 30 feet back from whence we had just come. Maybe this is the bag of cash I’ve day dreamed of finding through much of my adult life. The weeds were tall and I purposely chose my steps to topple the bulkiest to minimize my interaction with the unwanted growth. There it is, the duffel bag at my feet.

I notice immediately that it had been a recent acquisition, observation based on the manufacturer’s tag still attached. I also note that the bag had probably been there at least overnight, an observation based on the numerous rabbit turds on top of the bag. [What gives, I thought, a rabbit bothered to crest the bag for a bowel movement?] Regardless, I reach for the zipper of the main compartment and pull. This will require more than one point of contact, the other hand will be needed to provide the necessary counter force of holding the bag in place. With that I feel the heft of the bag and hear the contents clatter. With some degree of sadness I realize, based on the sound, this is not the aforementioned bag of cash. I also find reassurance that the noise renders the possibility of this being a sack of snakes to near nil. The zipper pulled, the flap released, I pull it open to reveal contents I do not immediately recognize which activates the caution alarm in my brain. This is so far outside the realm of expectation that it just did not register. Rather than reaching inside I shift the weight of the bag to move the contents. They appear to be ammunition magazines! Not magazines, the written word publications, but actual firearms hardware, about 10 of them plus additional paraphernalia! Some of the magazines are rectangular shaped, others are of the curved variety. No weapons were observed, but at this point my curiosity had been extinguished.

“I think we need to call the police,” I utter before returning to the pedestrian side of the fence and call 911.

“What’s your emergency,” asked the operator.

“I’m in San Dimas and I’d like to speak with the San Dimas Sheriff, please.”

“This is the San Dimas Sheriff. What’s your emergency.”

“I found a duffle bag of what appears to be ammunition. It’s possible it’s just for paint ball guns, but I don’t think so.”

The operator is furnished with our coordinates and advised that we’d remain on site. Within minutes a police car arrived with two officers.

One officer walked to the bag while the other remained with us. My contact information and ID were requested and provided.

“Did you touch anything,” asked the officer by the bag.

“Just the zipper.”

“I was hoping it was a bag of cash,” I told the officer nearest us yielding absolutely no reaction.

The officer opened the bag. Finding the contents of interest he then opened the other pockets. He quickly looked around the hillside and scoured the immediate vicinity for any additional firearms hardware. Finding nothing, he zipped the bag, tossed it over the fence toward the car. 

“I guess it’s not paint ball gear,” I mentioned to the second officer again yielding no response.

The first officer returned to where we were and he was looking very serious. I thought he going to frisk me, search my backpack and arrest me. I didn’t like the look he was bearing down with.

“Put the bag in the trunk,” he said to his partner, “we have another hot call to get to.” With that they left.

My daughter and I continued our walk down the street. Our lucky finds were not yet done for the day. At the grocery store we came across a sale on Kellogg’s brand cereal and they had the rare find of Chocolate Frosted Flakes! Can’t wait for breakfast tomorrow.

[An actual event that occurred on 5/26/2018.]

Coyote Conjurer

She was magnificent with her long, flowing, strawberry-blond hair and eyes as blue as a cloudless spring day. When her ire had been sufficiently raised because of a wrong waged by humanity unto nature, her hair would become seemingly aflame with her sensibilities bent by the observed infraction. It was in such moments on the cusp of enragement that she would conjure and command her pack of coyotes. With two fingers she rubbed the top of her right ear, at the very top where a cluster of empowering freckles lay, the pack would be summoned and unleashed.

The first time her coyotes appeared it was accidental. Or, at least, she didn’t know at that time she had such powers. Three kids, adolescents in their mid-teens, hiking in a National Park had strayed from the trail. Signs were abundantly posted specifically warning people to stay on the trails to minimize humanity’s deteriorating effects. It was during this off-trail frolic she saw the boys and said aloud to her hiking partner, “They shouldn’t be over there. They need to stick to the trail in this area.” She had been rubbing the top of her right ear when she spoke. That’s when the coyotes made their impeccably timed appearance.

It was a pack of seven stunningly beautiful animals, five adults and two pups. They made their approach quickly and without warning. The chase ended almost as fast as it started when the adolescents ran back to the trail near where the blonde-haired conjurer stood. The largest coyote was only a few feet away staring at the three delinquents issuing intimidating growls. The other four adult coyotes remained behind howling, the pups’ efforts yielded only high-pitched yelps. The situation under control, the lead coyote slowly approached the conjurer, offered a low bow, then made a chuffing sound as if to say to her, “Hello, my friend, it’s good to see you.” The coyotes then turned all at once and ran away.

“Miss, those coyotes were dangerous, weren’t you scared,” asked one boy.

“They looked like they were waiting for you to give them orders,” said another of the reprimanded youths.

“I wasn’t scared, I didn’t do anything wrong. They just wanted you to stay on the trail. Stop being dorks,” she responded and kept moving.

A few months later she was on a date when it happened again. The young man, doing an amusingly poor job of trying to woo, had suggested a picnic at a local park [that was a good idea] but then proceeded to regale her with talk about his favorite baseball team [that was a silly idea]. The park was beautiful, as was the coyote-conjuring young lady. The park boasted of numerous No Smoking signs posted throughout. One of the park patrons, however, did not abide by the rule, had sparked up a cigarette and was defiling the grounds with his smoke and ash. With her date blabbing on about baseball he didn’t notice that her attention had turned to this other developing situation. Recalling the hiking incident she reached for her right ear and rubbed it with her thumb and forefinger. She tapped her prospective boyfriend to gain his attention and pointed toward the smoker. There was the pack of coyotes, her pack, running toward the offending smoker. They chased him and nipped his heels tumbling him to the ground. The lead coyote appeared to growl directly into the man’s face, then at the cigarette until the smoker put it out by mashing it with his hand. With the mission complete the pack approached the conjuring beauty. Her date suggested that they should get out of there and do so quickly. “Shhh,” she calmly said to him holding out the palm of her hand issuing the unspoken command of stop, a request to which he acquiesced with no delay. The main coyote approached her, bowed and made chuffing noises to her while standing just beyond her blanket. She smiled at the coyote while the others stayed back howling, then they ran off from whence they had come. Her image swelled in his eyes. Thankfully for her, he was inspired to change the topic of conversation from baseball. 

She came to understand clearly that these were her coyotes! She treasured these mighty beasts and would not call on them unnecessarily. They would not be conjured for playful scenarios like cuddling up with the pack to watch movies, for example, no. Having become convinced of humanity’s deteriorating affect on the environment, she decided to use the coyote pack to combat what infractions she could.

Some weeks later, she was enjoying a walk in the chic downtown area near her condominium. She saw an adult taking a walk with his family when he threw a candy wrapper to the ground. Broad daylight with a garbage bin only feet away! She rubbed her right ear and there they were. The largest ran headlong into the litterer’s rear end knocking him head first into the ground. With the lead coyote growling at him while he sat slumped on the ground, one of the coyote pups came up with the discarded wrapper and dropped it near him. The pup trotted to the litterbug’s baby stroller, licked the fingers of the giggling baby and scampered off. The main coyote stared at him, then at the litter, until the litterbug retrieved his garbage. Mission accomplished, the leader chuffed to the conjurer while the remainder of the pack howled. With that, they ran off. She continued her walk passed the litterbug, turned and said, “You need to set a better example for your little baby.”

“I will, sorry,” he said, embarrassed by his behavior.

There was also the drone incident in her neighborhood, a drone-free zone. She didn’t know who was controlling the drone, but it was up there buzzing around where it should not have been. She rubbed her ear, then waited. Within a minute the drone seemed to have lost control and fell to the ground. She heard a screech and crunch, and assumed it had been run over by a car. The coyote pack’s howling that followed was beautiful with the deeper vocals of the leader.

Then there was the foil balloon incident. A party at the local park was being arranged. One of the party planners had committed a foul causing immeasurable rage, a pair of foil balloon bouquets were on display. It was early, the partying had not yet commenced, and only a few people were present setting up the festivities. The coyote conjurer had been walking her dog, a rowdy huskie shepherd mix, when she saw the offending balloons, five in each bouquet. The balloons are problematic because they are occasionally swallowed by unsuspecting ocean-based animals which may result in their death. Plus the balloons sometimes get caught in electrical lines potentially causing damage, but that is a human inconvenience and is, therefore, tolerable. Well, these foil balloons would enjoy no such opportunities at mayhem. Her hand went to the right ear and her pack of coyotes was on the scene. She was on slightly higher ground yielding a good visual as to what transpired. The balloons were numerous, but when you have five adult coyotes under your command the powers you wield are great. Their attack was swift and elegant like a well timed ballet. All five were active in this mission leaping at, and popping, the foil balloons. The coyotes popped the balloons but refrained from tearing them to pieces to minimize the clean up effort. They didn’t touch the other types of balloons, nor cause damage to the cakes or refreshments. The four howled with the leader running ahead to bow in the conjurer’s direction before issuing a powerful, frightful to anyone else, howl. The coyotes then departed as rapidly as they had arrived.

Her conjuring was always to the betterment of nature and the environment. The targets were always well deserved and only those who had initiated wrongdoing, never any collateral damage. Her enragement continues today as a conscientious force for good in the world.

[Inspired by the cover of a graphic novel where a character had a team of polar bears under his command.]
-klem