Scatman Dues (Freaky Florida Mystery Adventures Book 6) by Margaret Lashley (interesting books to read .TXT) 📗

“Barbeque?” I asked, my mind numb from lack of sleep.

“No, no, no,” Grayson said, reaching down to pet Tooth’s head.

“Bbblllbbrrt,” Tooth repeated.

Grayson laughed. “Exactly, my canine friend!”

He looked up at us, his green eyes twinkling like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. “Bacteria, people. It’s bacteria!”

Chapter Forty-Five

Of all of Grayson’s lame-brained ideas, this one had to be the absolute lamest.

Bacteria was driving these guys crazy?

I got up and sprinted to the side door of the RV and gulped in a lungful of flatulent-free air. Then I turned back to Grayson, who had sat back down in the banquette.

“Let me get this right,” I said. “You think bacteria is turning those robed rednecks into Pillsbury dough zombies?”

“Yes,” Grayson said. “You appear shocked. I’m curious. Why would that surprise you?”

I sucked in another breath of outside air and turned to face him. “Why wouldn’t it?”

Grayson studied me from his perch at the banquette, while Garth, Jimmy and I studied him as if we were the hapless, doomed crew aboard The Ship of Fools.

Maybe we were.

Grayson seemed to sense we were about to mutiny. He raised his arms and said, “Gather round and let me explain.”

“Yes, please do,” I muttered, then reluctantly scooted my ass into the booth.

“You see, the human body consists of roughly thirty trillion cells,” Grayson said, spreading his fingers like two fans. “But our intestines are home to over forty trillion bacteria, give or take a recent defecation.”

I closed my eyes, not at all sure I wanted to know where this conversation was leading.

“Let me demonstrate,” he said.

Dear lord, no!

My eyes flew open. Grayson scooted out of the booth and placed both spidery hands across his stomach.

“You’re not gonna—” I gasped.

“Please! Hold all questions to the end,” Grayson said, then began rubbing his belly. “Now, my fellow associates, it’s not widely known, but up to a trillion bacteria reside in each gram of intestinal content. That means the major component of feces is bacteria.”

“Ugh!” I groaned. “We get it, okay? Poop is full of bacteria. Is there a point to all this?”

Grayson’s eyebrow rose like Spock’s. “I thought I just made it.” He glanced at me, then at the two brothers, who appeared as confounded as I was.

Grayson’s Spock eyebrow collapsed. “Don’t you see? Cellularly speaking, we’re actually more bacteria than human.”

My lips curled downward in disgust.

Well, there goes kissing anyone—ever again.

“Is that for real?” Garth asked, his eyes two bloodshot boiled eggs behind the thick lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses.

“Absolutely,” Grayson said. He patted his belly. “On any given day, each of us is carrying around up to four and a half pounds of bacteria in our digestive tracts.”

“Whoa!” Garth said. “That’s like—sixteen Big Macs!”

“I said no disruptions,” Grayson said. “Now, most of our gut bacteria belong to thirty or forty species, but there can be up to a thousand different kinds inside us, each struggling to survive within our individual microbiomes.”

“Microbiomes?” I sneered. “You make it sound like our guts are bacterial Thunderdomes.”

“An excellent analogy,” Grayson said, “because what goes on in our guts is truly a matter of life or death.”

“Phew,” Jimmy said, pushing Tooth away. “It sure smells that way.”

“Yeah,” Garth said, crinkling his red nose. “How could Tina Turner stand it?”

I shook my head.

If I had her money, I’d be sooo outta here...

Grayson’s brow furrowed. “I think you’re missing the point here, men. You see, when it comes down to it, our gut is actually key to our body’s survival. It’s constantly sending messages to the brain that are critical to our ongoing health.”

“Really?” Jimmy asked, looking down at his stomach.

“Yes,” Grayson said. “If our stomach is empty, our brain needs to know that—so we don’t starve. On the other hand, if we eat something poisonous or rotten, the brain needs to know that, too—so it can make arrangements to rid itself of anything threatening to our well-being.”

“Yay,” I said dully. “Our guts are important. But Grayson, what has any of this got to do with the way Earl’s been acting?”

“I’m getting to that.” Grayson lowered his hands. “I never told you this, but back in my research days, I was involved in studies related to the brain-gut-enteric microbiota axis.”

My weary brain skipped like a needle on a record. “The what?”

Grayson sighed. “For you laymen, it’s the study of how gut bacteria influence psychology and behavior. During our clinical trials, we discovered that bacteria in the intestines can activate stress circuits by directly stimulating the vagus nerve.”

I ground my teeth. Forget that stupid vagus nerve thing. Grayson was on my last nerve.

I curled my fist and started counting down from thirty. Grayson had half a minute to make his point, or I was gonna knock him unconscious and make a dive for the sofa-bed coffin.

“Like I said, when necessary, the gut can communicate directly with the brain,” Grayson prattled on. “If you’ve ever eaten a bad burrito, you know what I mean.”

“Ooooh,” Garth said. “Point taken, Mr. Gray!”

“So our gut talks to our brain?” Jimmy asked.

“Yes. Through the enteric nervous system,” Grayson said. “Our gut has over two-hundred million nerves in it. That’s about as many as in a dog’s cerebral cortex. Looking at it another way, our gut is about as smart as the average dog.”

Garth grinned. “You mean my poop shoot is as smart as Tooth here?” He patted the dog’s massive, dumb-looking head.

“Yes,” Grayson said. “In fact, some call the gut ‘the second brain.’”

Garth grinned. “Cool!”

“It kind of is, isn’t it,” Grayson said, a dimple forming on his right cheek. “Actually, the enteric nervous system in our gut could be considered the original brain. It developed when we were basic organisms—mere primitive digestive tubes, if you will.”

“You mean like Earl is now?” I grumbled. “I hope there’s some point to this biology lesson, Mr. Professor. We need to do something about Earl, and soon.”

“Patience, Grasshopper,” Grayson said, making my fist curl tighter.

“Now, here’s my point.” Grayson said, directing his gaze my way. “Besides regulating bowel