"Stoker Gets Stoked"

Chapter Three

John Gage was thirsty. He crossed over to the kitchen counter and reached up to grab a glass. He spotted the piece of wood that had been 'curing' in the cupboard, for the past month. "Hey, Mike. It's been over three weeks."

Mike, and four of his fellow firefighters, were seated at the kitchen table.

Stoker looked confused for a moment, but then his face lit up. "I forgot all about it." He slid his chair back, got to his feet, crossed over to the open cupboard, reached in and pulled out the little Y-shaped stick he'd stuck in there. "Feels good," the slingshot expert announced. "It'll just take me a few minutes to attach the sling."

Mike started heading for the garage. He stopped and turned back to flash his five friends a sickeningly smug smile. "And then, I'll prove, once and for all, that old-fashioned slingshots are not as accurate as the newfangled fiberglass kind!"

Gage stared after him for a few moments, then turned to the rest of the men. He set his foot up on Mike's empty chair seat, and rested his folded his arms on his bent knee. His dark brown eyes narrowed into devious slits. "I don't know about the rest a' you guys," he spoke, just above a whisper, "but I personally feel that anyone as overconfident about winning as Mike seems to be, ought to be taught a lesson. For his own good, of course," he added and smiled innocently.

The rest a' the guys glanced at one another and grinned.

Captain Stanley leaned forwards in his seat and gazed up at Gage, looking equally shrewd and devious. "Just what did you have in mind?"

The rest a' the guys leaned in, too and waited, expectantly for his reply.

"You guys remember me mentioning my friend, Gary Woolen?"

DeSoto looked thoughtful. "The stuntman. Right?"

"Ri-ight."John nodded in his partner's direction and began to lay out his little…scheme.

The conspirators congregated out in the parking lot behind the Station.

Stoker stepped out of the apparatus bay and up to where his friends stood. He was carrying two slingshots. The Engineer noticed that they had set a row of cans up on the top of the brick wall, at the far end of the lot.

Captain Stanley motioned to the targets. "As you can see, everything's all set for Station 51's first Official Slingshot Shoot-Out."

Mike looked extremely pleased with himself. "No contest!" he stated and stood there, radiating confidence. He held up the bright yellow fiberglass gizmo in his left hand. "This baby can outshoot this relic—" he raised the Y-shaped stick in his right hand, "—any day of the week!"

His crewmates just stood there, looking completely unimpressed.

Stoker passed his Captain the old-fashioned slingshot. Then he took his 'baby' over to the farthest corner of the lot. He loaded the newfangled model's ammo pouch and drew a careful bead on one of the cans. "This thing has twice the range of …that thing." He shot the wooden stick a disgusted sneer and then squeezed the trigger mechanism.

None of the cans moved.

"It's pulling a little to the right," Mike explained and made a minor adjustment. Then he loaded, aimed and fired again.

This time, the can furthest on the right went flying and dropped out of sight behind the wall.

His audience appeared mildly impressed.

Stoker looked even more pleased and confident. He stepped back up to his Captain and exchanged slingshots. "I know I can't possibly reach the targets from here, using this thing," he predicted, on his way back over to the far corner of the lot, "but I'm gonna take a shot from here anyways. Just to show yous."

"Hey, the bet was about accuracy," Chet reminded him. "Nobody said anything about distance."

Mike drew the rubber sling back as far as he dared and then let it go.

The stone hit the pavement ten feet in front of the wall and went bouncing off across the lot.

"You just didn't pull back far enough, is all," Marco quickly determined.

"Yeah," John joined in. "It just stands to reason if you want the stone to go forward further, you gotta pull the sling further back. Go ahead. Try it again."

Stoker's smugness gave way to disbelief. "Huh! I'd have to defy the laws of physics to hit those cans at this range. No matter how far back I pu—"

"—All right. Hold it right there!" Gage turned to his Captain. "Cap, I protest. We can't possibly hold a fair contest, when Mike, here, is already convinced the old-fashioned slingshot can't do the job." He turned back to Stoker. "You're underestimating the thing just because of its simplistic design and construction, and I demand that it be given another chance to prove itself."

Stanley turned to his Engineer. "Sounds reasonable enough to me, Michael."

Michael quickly overcame his astonishment. "I'm not gonna waist my time, but, if John's so convinced it can do the job, I think he should be the one to try it." He held the little Y-shaped stick up and dangled it in Gage's direction.

"Why not?" John conceded. He sidled over to Chet and slipped him a small black box.

Kelly palmed the device, then, in the process of stretching, placed both of his hands behind his back.

Gage strode over to Stoker and snatched the old-fashioned slingshot and a stone from him. "I had one just like this when I was a kid," he announced and pretended to load the little ammo pouch.

Mike's smug smile reappeared. "If you haven't had one in your hands since then, you should probably take a few practice shots. You're bound to be a little rusty."

"Thanks, but…" John turned toward the wall and pulled the strip of inner tube back as far as he dared, "using a slingshot is a lot like riding a bike." He made a big point of taking careful aim. "Once you get the knack—" he let the sling go.

Chet waited a moment or two and then pressed one of the buttons on the box behind his back.

This detonated one of the small explosive charges packed inside each of the tin targets, and caused a can to jerk and fall off the wall.

"—you never lose it," Gage finished. He, and the rest of the guys, turned to witness Stoker's reaction.

Mike's amused look had vanished. "But…that…that's not possible," he muttered.

The rest of the men pursed their lips and looked away.

John eyed the wooden stick approvingly. "Yes sir. Plain and simple and every bit as accurate as the newfangled kind."

Captain Stanley sobered, somewhat. "The score stands at one all," he announced. "John, your turn to go first, pal…"

Gage grabbed another stone from Stoker's pocket and pretended to load it into his sling. Then he strolled casually up to the outside mirror of his car and swung it towards the targets. He turned his back to the wall, pulled the sling out and away and used the mirror to sight in on a can. Several seconds later, the sling was released, propelling an imaginary stone back over his right shoulder.

The guys glanced at each other and rolled their eyes.

Kelly hit the detonator button.

One of the cans jerked and went toppling down behind the wall.

Stoker just stood there, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

The guys kept their lips tightly pursed and gritted their teeth to keep from grinning.

Mike managed, somehow, to overcome his amazement enough to be able to comment. He stared wonderingly at his opponent. "Incredible! I can't believe you actually hit that!"

"I can't believe it either," John confessed, in an amazing display of self-control. He stared down at the stick in his hand, feigning confusion. "I was aiming at the can next to that one."

The men had everything they could do to keep from laughing.

Gage glanced up, saw the look on Stoker's face and nearly lost it.

Captain Stanley cleared his throat. "It's, uh, your turn there, Mike."

Mike just stood there, too dazed to move.

Hank strolled over to his stunned Engineer and handed him his high-tech weapon. "You're up."

"Huh?" Mike inquired. He snapped out of his dazed state and crossed over to Gage's car. Somehow, he managed to load his slingshot. He spent a lot of time adjusting both his sights and the mirror. Finally, he fired…and missed.

"The score now stands at one to two," Hank determined. "Your turn to call the shot, Mike."

Mike didn't move.

Gage put forth another dazzling display of self-control and sauntered right up to his dazed opponent. "Here. Use this," he held out the Y-shaped stick. "I'm tellin' yah, Mike, yah can't miss with this thing!"

But Stoker still didn't budge.

Chet exhaled an impatient gasp and stepped up to his still-stunned shift-mate. "While you're thinking over your next shot, allow me to demonstrate the principle of Computed Trajectory." He traded the little black box in his hand for the Y-shaped stick in Gage's. He palmed the stone he pulled from Mike's shirt pocket and pretended to load the sling. "It's simple." He aimed straight up into the sky. "Just take the distance between you and your target…divide by four…and then multiply that number, according to the table of wind direction and velocity." He licked his right index finger and held it up. "Feels like an eight." He made a big thing about getting the proper 'Computed Trajectory'. At last, he seemed satisfied and let the sling go.

The guys watched Chet, as he followed the path of his imaginary stone.

When Kelly's gaze drew level with the wall, John pressed the detonator button. Another squib exploded.

Another can jerked and toppled over.

His fellow firefighters pursed their lips once more, and stared down at the pavement beneath their feet.

No one, not even John, dared to witness Stoker's reaction to that shot.

"Like I said," Chet gloated, "Simple. With the right amount of skill, of course." The Irishman blew on the tips of his skilled fingers and then brushed them on the front of his shirt.

The guys finally chanced a glance in Stoker's direction. They grinned, seeing that Mike couldn't look any more confused—or amazed—if he tried.

Or, could he…?

Marco snatched the Y-shaped stick from Chet and pulled two stones from Mike's pocket. "Not bad. But watch this one…" He held the two stones up for John to see.

Gage rolled his eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up, slightly.

Lopez palmed the stones. Then he pulled the sling back…closed his eyes…and fired.

John pressed the detonator button twice.

Two cans jerked, fell forward off the wall and went clanking down onto the pavement.

Stoker did a beautiful double take.

Seeing Mike's look of amazement was now quadrupled, Captain Stanley and the rest of the men could no longer contain themselves. They glanced at each other and then cracked up.

Stoker just stared back at them, looking totally lost.

The Station's alarm sounded.

The firemen struggled to replace their amused expressions with more sober ones…but weren't entirely successful.

"Truck 123…Battalion 14…Station 51…" the dispatcher's voice echoed out from the garage. "Structure fire…"

Gage pulled the little black remote control box from behind his back and pressed the main detonator switch.

The rest of the squibs exploded.

The remaining cans jerked and fell from the wall.

Stoker stared at the little box…and then at Gage, looking positively stoked! "You cheated!"

"Yeah," the paramedic came clean. "But it was for your own good," he assured him. He and his co-conspirators swapped unrepentant grins.

The Engineer's arched eyebrow was proof he wasn't buying any part of that excuse. Suddenly, Mike realized something that caused his countenance to brighten…considerably. "I knew it wasn't possible! I knew that relic couldn't possibly be that accurate! Never in a million years!"

The guys groaned and started trotting toward their trucks.

So much for the lesson in humility. If anything, the Station's 'Slingshot Ace' sounded smugger and cockier than ever.

Hank couldn't help but smile. 'Yup!' he reminded himself. 'It's always the quiet ones,'

The End