ds_flashfiction | Chicago Holiday Challenge

Talk about your quick responses... Thanks to

heuradys for the look through and giving me a notion of what to title this bit of silliness. 510 words

A Cheeky Story

The smoking crater that had once been the Gold Mine Water Park stared back at him accusingly. Renfield ducked his head with a sigh. His bright red swim trunks with the fashionable stripe of black maple leaves running down the legs gave him no comfort. He was surrounded by crying, wailing, and above all, wet children. Teenagers sulked and sneered beyond them in the rubble strewn parking lot. Inspector Thatcher stood next to him shaking with rage. The wet and somewhat disheveled Detective Vecchio crouched on the ground at Ren's feet still trying to get his breath back. Ren couldn't even enjoy the view of the pale, muscular shoulders and glistening blond spikes. Renfield looked over at Constable Fraser. He was still holding a small boy in his arms trying to soothe the heavy sobs coming from the child.

"I didn't mean to," Ren whispered to whom he wasn't sure.

"What the hell were you thinking!?!" Inspector Thatcher suddenly exploded.

Ren cringed away from the eruption. Ray quickly bobbed to his feet and took position between them.

"Back off, Meg!" Ray yelled, knowing full well how much she disliked him using her nickname.

Ren whispered, "Oh dear."

"You, Detective, can just get out of the way! I am reprimanding my subordinate and that has nothing to do with you!"

"You can't reprimand him for something he did on his day off, lady!"

"He is a Mountie, and in so, represents us all, on duty or off! Now move!"

"There's no way in hell he could have known there was a bomb!"

Ren stepped away from the arguing pair and moved over toward Constable Fraser. His superior managed to somehow look dashing in his own set of bright red trunks, though they failed to have the fashionable stripe. The boy in his arms had calmed, and, in fact, seemed curious about the arguing adults behind Ren.

"I am so terribly sorry, sir."

"It's alright, Turnbull. It was merely a fluke shot. If the boy hadn't dared you with the boomerang... we might not have discovered the bomb."

"If the boomerang hadn't hit it, you might have had time to disarm it, sir."

"Well, those cans of gasoline nearby didn't help, but no one was injured, Turnbull. We should be happy about that."

"Yes, sir. I'm just glad Detective Vecchio and yourself managed to dive into the pool before that fireball got you."

Fraser looked vaguely uncomfortable as he put the boy down.

"Well, I think Ray's a bit singed, but please don't tell him. I'd hate to embarrass him further."

The two Mounties glanced over at the Detective and noticed the two rounded holes that had burned away on the back of Ray's black trunks. Two pale cheeks quivered at them as Ray shook his finger in Thatcher's scowling face. Both Mounties blushed and looked away.

"If it makes you feel any better, Turnbull," Fraser continued, "ironically, almost the exact same situation happened to me once. Of course, it was a real gold mine, but that's not important at this juncture."