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    Gremlin’ Hunting Essay (686 words)

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    Per. 1 Creative Writing Monday, November 06, 2000Brandon thought that he could take a swig of beer safely. But when helifted the bottle of Miller to his still-grinning lips, he caught a glimpseof Chester, whose fat face was also grinning like a kid’s Halloween jack o’lantern, and that happened just when the swallow of beer was going downBrandon’s throat. The result was a loud choke, gurgle and spray of beeracross a table already littered with bottles, caps, cigarette butts, andspoiling pretzels.

    “Ah, shit!” Chester yelled, jumping quickly out of his chair to avoid thesticky shower. “C’mon, Bran. You gotta wear a god damn bib or something’?”On the other side of the table, Henry laughed uproariously, turning aparticularly beetlike shade of red. Brandon wiped beer and spittle fromhis face and let more laughter flow unabridged. “The-look-on his face!”His ribs began to ache.

    That caused Chester to break up again, and Henryto plead soundlessly for air, begging them to stop. “The look,” Brandon said when he could catch a breath, “of the mightywarrior – the mighty gremlin hunter, off to bag his fine catch!”Chester held his stomach as if afraid his intestines would leap away fromthe hysterical body that contained them. “Poking him full of those storiesabout these woods. That was the best part.

    “Henry beamed proudly. It was he who had told them all-including Georgie-about the wooded area called Peach Cove on Lake Fausse Point. The headlesswoman, the squirrel that screams like a man, the six-foot hog. . . all thelocal nonsense that he had heard when he purchased the camp along thatdeserted canal deep in the swamps of south Louisiana.

    The fact that theFrench, from whom Henry and the rest were descended, had learned about thelocal area from the Indians from whom Georgie was descended only madethings all the funnier. They were all city folks, Georgie included. He hadbeen put up for adoption when he was a child and was raised by non-Nativeparents. He didn’t even know his tribe. “I shoulda told him the one about the black panther with a baby’s head,”Henry said.

    “That woulda got him!””How long’s he been gone?” Brandon asked. Chester looked at his watch. “Three hours. “”Sun went down an hour ago. “Henry and Chester smiled, nodding. “I hope we don’t have to go find poor Georgie, the great gremlin hunter,and bring him back to camp,” Brandon noted matter-of-factly, and all threeburst into laughter once again.

    After that storm was over, Chester asked, “So. . . who gets the honors?””Honors?””Of telling Georgie there’s no such thing as gremlin in these woods.

    “Brandon and Henry shrugged, considering to whom this great honor wouldfall. But at that moment, the door to the makeshift camp opened, and Georgiebarreled in. “What a deal!” he proclaimed, standing there in his olive-drab army greenhunting clothes and florescent orange cap, the shotgun slung over oneshoulder and his bag over the other. He looked triumphant, like Crazy Horseor somebody, Brandon thought.

    And Brandon noticed the bag didn’t look empty. Must have got a rabbit, hethought. “Guys,” Georgie said, “I don’t know why you didn’t let me in on thisgremlin hunting business a long time ago. What a deal!”The three men eyed Georgie suspiciously. Was the little restaurant owner,who had never been out into the swamp before, trying to turn the tables onthem?Henry tried, “So.

    . . how many did you bag, Georgie?””Just one,” Georgie said, coming forward and opening his bag. “How many didyou guys get?”He loosened the cinch of the bag and tumbled its contents onto the table. Dead and bloodied with buckshot, the thing’s glazed red eyes stared up atthem blindly.

    Its body was hairless, black skinned, and the powerful legsfore and aft were tipped with ivory white claws still tainted red with dryblood from some kill of its own. A tail, ridged, fleshy, and ratlike, layover its leathery wings. It was the size of a small dog. “So?” Georgie said proudly as the three veteran hunters stood a safedistance from the dead, staring monstrosity. The fire in his eyes was likethe devil. “Am I the only one who got lucky tonight?”

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    Gremlin’ Hunting Essay (686 words). (2019, Jan 12). Retrieved from https://artscolumbia.org/gremlin-hunting-essay-69064/

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