Season 3 – Episode 35 (The Witch’s Broom)
Remember the submerged vault…. The coffer discovered by Too Tall and Shorty Short…. The lockbox under the boathouse that Hazel Brown and Too Tall pulled up floorboards to expose…. The military-grade waterproof case that Australian secret intelligence, led the Three Eagles to believe there were Kraken eggs within its interior??? Yep, that one.
“Well—Here’s the tournament Sally,” began Ellie Waylayer. “While Rusty and Tawny and Cos were making you cozy here by the fire…. Hazel and I went to the boathouse and popped the frickin’ case with the quadruple biometric locks. And then we found zip. Yep, zip… As in ZIPPO. As in, what the hell, HQ.”
“So, I guess you could say that technically, we found the box that was supposed to be housing the eggs, but there were no eggs.”
“Am I involved in some sort of weird Easter Egg hunt?” questioned Rusty aloud to the fire pit crowd.
One—Two—Yep, count ‘em…. Three eye rolls. One from each of the Three Eagles before Sally explained, “Honey, Rusty, we’re potentially going to need you to keep a lid on some fairly dicey international special ops intel. But for now, yes, let’s just say we’re on a special Easter Egg hunt.”
“So, this could also be like a mushroom hunt? You know Sally, mushrooms, I’m pretty good at mushroom hunting.” Rusty quipped with helpful enthusiasm.
If Rusty Flathers had five-bucks for every time he got lost in the woods as a kid…. He would not be starting up a Canadian fishing camp in NW Ontario in effort to make a dollar. His bank account would already be full. As in FULL-FULL.
Example: When he was thirteen years old it took him two days to find his way out of a spring mushroom hunt. “Morel” of the story? Keep your trails clearly taped with ribbon, and do not lose sight of the lake shore when you are exploring potential mushroom ridges. Truth be known, Rusty could barely find his way out of the woods, let alone find a morel mushroom.
Consequently, Sally was like a morel…. She could be hard to find, a little dirty if she needed to be, and could mess you up if you didn’t handle her properly.
“We are all going to look for the eggs, Rusty.” Sally continued. “But if you want to think of it as a mushroom hunting party, then that works for me.”
“Great! Where do we start?”
“There are some old abandoned mine shafts in this area,” offered Tawny Bishop. “I could lead us around, if you thought you wanted to explore those sorts of options.”
“That seems random,” infused Ellie. “And I’m not being a downer here, but maybe we’re overthinking this? Maybe there’s another place right here on the island?”
“Hard to tell what that witch Ophilia Barnacle might have done with those eggs,” commented Professor Cosmoid Scale. “And while where asking a bunch of questions in this little group chat session, I’d like to know which one of you was responsible for putting her in this septic tank, that started the whole domino effect with our current EGG situation, as you call it!”
“Easy Cos,” countered Ellie. “Remember, we’re all on the same team here.”
“Are we really? Seriously? We’re all on the same team?” questioned Tawny Bishop. “Because I can remember SOMEONE, not too long ago, that wasn’t much of a teammate.”
Obviously, she was referring to Sally and their abysmal ending in the bass fishing tournament. Then she continued, “And you know what Ellie, my idea might be random, so why don’t you and Ms. Drowny McDrownalready figure it out on your own. I’m outta here!”
“Seems about par…. You…. Still talking,” snarked Sally. “I thought bitterness died along with your dreams of ever winning a fishing contest.”
“Whoa! —Whoa! —Whoa!” pleaded Rusty. “Can you two NOT start this again.”
“Careful Flathers…. It’s not me….” countered Sally.
But before she could continue, Rusty stood from his chair and shouted to the skies, “Enough!! Everyone!! Enough!!” And that’s when he saw IT.
IT was beyond the boathouse—far to the west, the peak of the ridge at the furthermost distance from the main lodge at the camp. There IT was.
Rusty Flathers may not be able to find his way out of forests…. But being lost in them on numerous occasions gave him a strong base for identification of trees. And the tree he was now seeing was a huge Norway pine.
This was no ordinary tree, mind you. This hundred-plus-year-old creation had a massive Witch’s Broom at its peak. Rusty stood viewing it as strangely dense, with a tangled cluster of branches that were big and snarly and creepy looking.
But he also considered it to be an EGG!!! A perfectly molded, yet chaotic, dark looking singular egg, formed out of this weird growth, most likely shaped by some crazy genetic mutation.
His timing seemed appropriate. There was too much cursed energy happening in Rusty Flathers world. So, he made this announcement, “I know where your goofy-ass-eggs are hidden, but I’m only going to lead you there if everyone shuts the hell up and then gets the hell off mine and Cos’s Island!”
“Even….” Sally started to say. As in EVEN ME but was quickly cut short when Rusty shot her a look with two raised eyebrows and some laser shooting pupils.
“I am taking you all to The Witch’s Broom, and then this tournament (as he recalled Ellie referencing) will be over, for good,” he exclaimed.
Then, with Cos proudly patting his confident business partner on the shoulder, Hazel started to portray some self-assurance, albeit wildly inappropriate. Her head was flinching to the right, and her left eye was twitching uncontrollably.
“Yeah—you go Rusty! Let’s kick some witch’s ass!” she offered (overly enthusiastic / borderline freaky). “Let’s keep chasing these eggs—maybe I can get a third kill for the day—get me classified as some sort of jacked up Golden Eagle.”
Next, she looked blindly into the most heated embers at the base of the fire and smiled faintly, her voice dropping to a low guttural monotone, “Maybe we could start committing some war crimes too…. Get us all a medal from the RAN (Royal Australian Navy). You think they give medals for war crimes?”
Ellie turned to Cos, mouthing silently: “Should we be worried?!” The she checked the pulse of the rest of the viewing audience with a quick side to side glance—then again side to side—while muttering “WHAT IN THE ACTUAL—”
–To Be Continued—
Rusty Flathers 