TOY CRIME STORY EPILOGUE

 

FIRST EPILOGUE

That Christmas season, Wally and Mimi chose to get a divorce. They couldn’t stay in this place, and the memories of Joey were too strong. It grew to the point where they couldn’t stand to look at each other. They still loved each other, but the reminders were too strong. A divorce seemed to be the only solution.

It was very amiable, as much as it could be. They argued over nothing, and the lawyers breezed through it. They split the price of the house and after they packed everything up, they went their separate ways. They sent each other cards for the holidays and their birthdays, and every once in a while talked to each other on the phone, but they never saw each other again.

Wally couldn’t bear to hold on to the toys. He packed up the remaining ones. When he put Felix in the box, the cat seemed almost sad. The first movie he’d ever owned was a Felix the Cat cartoon on VHS. He felt tempted to hold on to this one, but he just couldn’t. He could see Joey reflected in Felix’s pitch black eyes.

He closed the box. It eventually wound up at Goodwill. In the back room, they deemed several of the toys were too dirty for kids, so they were tossed. Among them was Felix. His wives and kids found new homes, though.

They puzzled over the Donald Duck stuffed animal with a paper bag face. It was a topic of discussion over many lunches, but they tore the face off, and he wound up being a birthday present for a five year old.

Angel and Spike were in good condition, so they sold them as a pair to a thirty-one year old geek who never took them out of their boxes. Spike continued being a pain in Angel’s ass.

No one lived happily ever after.

SECOND EPILOGUE

Cat glided into the Catacombs, ecstatic over how everything ended. He couldn’t be more pleased with himself. His machinations worked out perfectly, just like always.

He went down the stairs, eager to fuck with the dead toys that Man-E-Faces watched over. He jaunted until he saw what remained of Man-E-Faces. He’d been torn limb from limb, his remains scattered on the cold stone. Cat stopped, tail twitching. Who could have beaten Death?

He eased down the steps until he saw that the dead toys were more plentiful. One of them, however, stood out from the rest.

Nightbeat.

He’d been put together hastily, but he was still Nightbeat. Cat should have seen this coming.

“Oh hello!” he said. “Nightbeat! How unexpected!”

“Cat,” Nightbeat said. “Enough with the pleasantries. You know why I’m here.”

“No, I assure you I don’t.” Backing away slightly.

“Come on. You can’t possibly think I would overlook what you did with Don Snowy and the goombas. You tore us apart.”

“Not I. You’ll have to prove it, detective. Beyond a reasonable doubt, naturally.”

“We’re beyond that,” Nightbeat said. “Waaaaay beyond that.”

“Oh my,” Cat said. He turned and ran.

And Nightbeat followed.

THE END