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

results on the donut hole weren’t conclusive!”

“Not completely, no,” Grayson said. “But the white stuff to which I refer isn’t cocaine. It’s sugar.”

My mouth dropped open. “You think Earl’s gone nuts over sugar?”

“No. It’s only the catalyst,” Grayson said.

“Huh?”

Grayson locked eyes with me. “Drex, if the bacteria infesting the donut wafer sample follow the traits of most known harmful bacteria, sugar is their food of choice.”

I blanched. “Sugar?”

“Yes.”

I swallowed hard, unable to fathom what Grayson was saying. “Okay. Let’s say sugar is this alien bacteria’s food of choice. How does that translate into Earl becoming a flatulent lunatic?”

“The bacteria are in control of his actions now,” Grayson said. “And what they need to replicate is more sugar. So they’re compelling Earl to go out and find it.”

“Like some kind of zombie? I’m sorry, but I just can’t wrap my head around that.”

“My theory is not without precedent,” Grayson said. “Take the case of Toxoplasma gondii.”

I closed my eyes. “Do I have to?”

“I thought you wanted an explanation—”

Earl let out another wail. My eyes flew open.

I grabbed Grayson’s hand. “I do want an explanation, Grayson. Please. Go on.”

“Toxoplasma gondii is a parasite that prefers to live in the guts of cats. The best way to arrive in a feline colon is to be eaten by the cat. So, what does it do?”

My nose crinkled. “Climb into a box of Meow Mix?”

Grayson’s cheek dimpled. “Close. It gets inside of mice and messes with their minds.”

“What?”

“It’s true. The parasite lives in cats’ guts and is expelled in their feces. In lab experiments, it’s been proven that mice who ingest this infected cat feces lose their fear of cats. Some mice even become sexually attracted to felines.”

I blanched. “So, you’re saying this plastic Gandhi parasite knows what it’s doing?”

Grayson shrugged. “Single-cell sapience. What other explanation is there? Survival of the species is prime directive number one, Drex. And now, here we are, standing on the edge of a new frontier.”

“New frontier?”

“Yes. A microbial one. We are the new cats, Drex. And this new bacteria is making humans crave sugary foods—to suit their ultimate survival needs.”

“Oh, come on, Grayson. Any reasonable person can control themselves and not eat a stupid donut!”

His left eyebrow arched. “Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely!”

“Okay. Let’s put your conviction to the test.”

“Huh? How?”

Grayson reached into his pocket and pulled out something near and dear to my heart.

“Roberta Drex, I hold in my hand your very last Tootsie Pop.”

Uh-oh.

I straightened my shoulders. “Yeah. So?”

“If you can control yourself and not eat this blue-raspberry lump of caramelized sugar for twenty-four hours, I’ll clean up the bedroom after Earl gets out.”

I grinned and reached for the Tootsie Pop. He pulled it away.

“But if you can’t,” Grayson said, “you have to do the dirty work.”

“Ha!” I laughed confidently. “Deal!”

Grayson’s cheek dimpled. “I suggest you order yourself a bucket and some rubber gloves. I’m wagering that, given the sugar-loving bacteria you’ve been cultivating in your gut all these years, you won’t last a whole day without one.”

I sneered. “You’re on, professor nerd man!”

“Excellent.”

Grayson turned and walked into the main cabin. He pulled open a kitchen drawer by the stove. “I’ll put the Tootsie Pop right here for safekeeping.”

“Fine,” I said defiantly. “Suits me.”

Grayson stuck the Tootsie Pop deep into the drawer behind the rubber tray holding the forks and spoons. He glanced at his cellphone. “It’s now seven minutes past noon. If the sucker’s still there at 12:07 tomorrow, you win. If not, you’ve got an unenviable date with Mr. Clean.”

“Or you do,” I quipped confidently.

But as I watched Grayson shut the drawer, I began to feel an itchy paranoia.

My gut gurgled.

All of a sudden, there was nothing in the entire universe I wanted more than that damned blue-raspberry Tootsie Pop.

Chapter Forty-Nine

After another hour of monitoring my bacteria-ridden cousin flailing and moaning in the back bedroom, Earl suddenly stopped pounding on the door. His wails ceased, and he became eerily silent.

I peeled my ear from the bedroom door and went and got Grayson. He leaned in and placed his stethoscope cup to the steel panel.

“Is he dead?” I asked.

Grayson let the stethoscope drop. “Not unless the dead snore.”

“He’s sleeping!” I whispered with relief. “Is that a good sign?”

“I don’t know.” Grayson pulled the stethoscope from his ears. “Earl’s either eliminated the enemy within, or it has eliminated him.”

My mouth fell open and my gut dropped four inches. “Be honest with me, Grayson. Do you really think bacteria has taken over Earl?”

He pursed his lips. “Unfortunately, that’s the working theory.”

I glanced worriedly at the door. “So, what do we do now?”

“Fill him with bacteria again. But this time, the good guys.”

“Probiotics?” I asked.

“Yes. But we need an inducement.”

“Inducement?”

“Yes. Something to make him take the capsules.”

I followed Grayson back to the kitchen. He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out his favorite snack.

“This ought to help,” he said, holding up a quart-sized tub of plain yogurt.

“Seriously?” I asked. “You’re the only person I know who would consider plain yogurt an ‘inducement.’”

Grayson stared at me. “I eat it all the time—for my health.”

My nose crinkled. “I thought you just kept that stuff around because you knew I wouldn’t touch it.”

“It’s full of natural probiotics,” Grayson said, looking slightly offended. “But I plan on adding some of these, to boost the dosage.”

Grayson picked up a bottle of probiotic capsules from the counter and shook it.

“Seriously?” I said. “You think a tub of sour milk and some bacteria pills are gonna cure Earl?”

“According to the studies I told you about, it’s indeed possible,” Grayson said, pulling the lid off the yogurt.

He opened the probiotics and started cutting into the capsules, then pouring the powder into the tub of flabby, white yogurt. “These little guys should help balance out Earl’s moods.”

I blew out a breath. “I sure hope this dumb plan works.”

“We need to replenish his microbiome,” Grayson said, glancing down his nose at me. “It’s been shown that lab mice void of gut bacteria act brashly and take a