It was all over the front page, the six o’clock news, even the ten o’clock news and early morning show the next day.

For Norman Wellington, it couldn’t be over soon enough. His star candidate’s wife’s face was plastered everywhere, and not just in promotional billboards.  It was all the town could talk about.

And it all started when Dallas Jean refused to give up the piglet smuggled in her purse…

***

As the irate petting zoo owner shrieked into his phone, Dallas Jean shoved baby chicks into her jacket pockets.  The piglet in her purse squealed in dismay as she shoved a small rabbit next to him.

“Dallas, what are you doing?” Adelaide asked, twirling her wild red hair.

“Saving the animals in this filthy petting zoo,” Dallas Jean calmly replied, raising an eyebrow as if her dearest friend was daft.  “Here.”  She tossed the keys to her hot pink VW bug to her friend.  “See if that llama will fit in the trunk, won’t you?  It looks malnourished.”

Adelaide’s eyes gleamed as she shoved the keys in the back pocket of her pleather turquoise pants.  “I bet we can get that miniature pony in the back too.  And if we put the hood down, one of the goats.”

“Oh, good.  I forgot about the goats,” Dallas Jean agreed, wiggling her fingers as she chased a piglet around a chicken coop.  Larry, Curly and Mo, her dachshunds, circled around the other side, growling at the terrified piglet.   “Good babies!  Good babies!”  Dallas Jean sang as she scooped the piglet up in her arms.  “Sugar!” she cried to the wailing, squirming bundle of pink snout. “Don’t you want to come to the land of milk and honey?  You can live in our guest house and eat all the disgusting things you want.  What do pigs eat?” she wondered aloud, barely audible over the pig’s screeches.

“I’m taking the calf too!” Adelaide called, yanking a lead rope as she dragged a llama, calf, miniature pony, goat and pair of ducks over to the VW bug.  “The dogs are going to have to sit on your lap!”

Larry, Curly and Mo were pleased to hear that.  They took great naps curled up in Dallas Jean’s lap.

“See?” Dallas Jean told the piglets.  “You’ll have a friend.”

The piglets snorted.

As Adelaide shoved the ducks in the front seat, the sheriff pulled up the long dirt drive.  From a discrete distance away from the petting zoo, Clementine Jane groaned and lowered her head until it smacked until the steering wheel.

“Dad is going to kill mom,” she muttered, grabbing her bag with her recorder and camera.  “But if anyone’s going to get this scoop, it’s going to be me!”

As Clementine Jane barreled down the driveway, barely glancing at her godmother shoving against a unwilling llama’s butt into her mother’s car, the sheriff strolled up to Dallas Jean.

“Hello, Dallas,” he greeted her, warily standing back a few feet.  “I’ve gotten a complaint that you’re trying to ruin this man’s business.”

“She is!” Billy shouted from his office, his bald head gleaming.  He pointed a trembling hand at Dallas Jean.  “She’s stealing my animals!  She’s shutting me down, man!  Thief!  Thief!”

“I am not a thief,” Dallas Jean replied arrogantly.  “I am a concerned citizen who is rectifying this abominable situation.”

The sheriff scratched his head.  “Huh?”

“Sheriff, this man is mistreating these animals!” Dallas Jean announced.  Larry, Curly and Mo howled in agreement.  “Just look at that goat,” she said, pointing.  “It’s got sores all over it, you can see it’s ribs and it’s drinking out of mosquito infested water.  These chickens are rolling about in their own filth.  And the pigs–don’t even get me started on the poor pigs.”

“My animals are healthy!” Billy howled from his rickety office.  “Lies, all lies!  I’m suing you for slander!”

The pigs in her purse squealed indignantly.  The rabbit wiggled his nose and the chicks in her pockets chirped.

“Dallas, I understand,” the sheriff said soothingly. He took a few steps toward her.

“You do?” she replied, raising an eyebrow.  “What do you understand?”  She took a step back, clutching the piglet in her arms.

“I understand that  you’re a bleeding–a compassionate type,” he finished smoothly.  He took another step closer.  Behind him, Clementine Jane rushed up with her recorder, holding up her cell phone to record the exchange.

“Clementine Jane, what are you doing here?” her mother frowned, ignoring the sheriff.  He crept closer.  “Shouldn’t you be home?  In fact, how did you get here?”

“The bus,” Clementine Jane lied.  “I’m sorry, mama, but as a reporter, I need to get this scoop for the papers.”  The sheriff crept closer, reaching out for the piglet in Dallas Jean’s arms.  The piglet’s eyes widened and his curly tail plastered to his rear.

“The papers?” Dallas Jean snarled.  “More of that liberal hogwash?  Clementine Jane, I’ve told you.  That dratted newspaper business is only good for animals to do their business on.  Why, I’ve never seen–AHHH!”  Dallas Jean jumped back as the sheriff jumped toward her, clawing at the piglet.  “Assault!  Assault!  The sheriff is assaulting me!”  Dallas Jean planted one pink heel into the sheriff’s chest and heaved.  He fell back in the mud and dirt, scrambling to get to his feet as she rushed towards her car.

“Adelaide!” she bellowed.  “Start the engine!  Clementine Jane, go home right now and do your homework!  Sheriff, take her for me, would you?”

“Thief!  Thief!” the petting zoo owner cried, rattling about in his rickety, rusty office. “She’s stealing my equipment!  How can you have a petting zoo without anything to pet?  Get her, officer, get her!”

“Mom, you’re going to get arrested and Dad’s going to get mad!” Clementine Jane shouted, forgetting she was recording as she followed her mother.  She pulled out her camera and snapped a picture:  her mother, blond bouffant blowing in the wind, clutching a piglet and barreling down the driveway in three inch heels as baby chicks peered out from her pockets and Larry, Curly and Mo followed behind her in a single line.   “My editor is never going to believe this,” she muttered, snapping another picture.

“Dallas Jean Lee, by order of the law of Corsicana County, I order you to stop and give me those animals!” the sheriff bellowed, stopping to catch his breath.  Sweat poured down his blazing face as he glared at Dallas Jean’s retreating form.  “Dallas, I’m not kidding.  Grayson is my friend, but I’ve still got to arrest you!”

“You’re just bitter because she didn’t go to homecoming with you junior year!” Adelaide bellowed out the window as Dallas leaped into the car, pulling Larry, Curly and Mo onto her lap and slamming the door. “So long, “Saucy Sal!”  Cackling, Adelaide floored it.  The little pink bug groaned and peeled off, with a bewildered llama, calf and goat staring out from the back.

“There ain’t no reason to bring up that kind of history with the press around,” the sheriff wheezed, stumbling toward his car.  Flipping on the lights, he glared at Clementine Jane.  “You ain’t going to print that, are you?”

“Not if you don’t arrest me for driving with my permit without an adult,” Clementine Jane replied, eyeing the sheriff as she pulled out her car keys.

The sheriff shook his head.  “Your poor daddy has enough trouble with your mother right now.”  Leaning down, he spoke into the radio.  “This is Sheriff Solomon, calling all units.  Calling all units.  Please be advised we have a robbery suspect on the run.  Suspect is Dallas Jean Lee, and her friend Adelaide.  Stolen goods include, a llama, calf, goat, pigs, rabbit…”

“Baby chicks,” Clementine Jane supplied.

“Baby chicks,” the sherriff added.

“Not Dallas Jean!” an officer’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Bring your helmets!” another groaned.

“Sheriff, I’m sick,” another cop replied, faking a cough that didn’t even sound real over the speakers.

“ALL units report.  Suspect heading south on Evers Road, probably to her home.  Please be advised she is dangerous,” the sheriff commanded.  Glancing at Clementine Jane, he said, “You might as well get in.  You can have a front seat to the whole thing.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Clementine Jane replied, hopping in the car.

“Suspect is now driving around town square in circles,” an officer reported over the radio.  “Apparently, she’s trying to find a parking space for the feed store.”

“Report of goat being loose in Gillman’s Grocery store!” another officer shouted.  “10-4!  10-4!”

“We have 768 in progress at the pharmacy,” another officer reported.  “Apparently, some ducks are tearing through the aisles and scaring the guests.  One suspect is chasing after them.  Tall, red hair, female, Hispanic.”

“Adelaide,” Clementine Jane murmured.

Without another word, the sheriff turned off the radio.  Blaring the sirens, he sped down the road.

***

That evening, Norman and Grayson sat on the veranda, sipping on coffee and eating one of the dozens of cookies Dallas Jean had baked.  Well, Grayson was eating them.  Norman was terrified he would chip one of his veneers.

“You know, I’m glad Dallas wanted to help,” Norman said, stirring his coffee.  “I’m surprised.  I figured she’d be trying to sabatoge you every step of the way.”

Grayson beamed and bit into a cookie, hiding a grimace.  “I told you she would be great,” he boasted as the cookie cracked and crunched in his teeth.  “She even had some great ideas for the campaign, she said.  She’s really jumped into this.”

“Ideas?” Norman cleared his throat.

The phone rang.  “Excuse me,” Grayson said, ever the gentleman.  Setting his coffee down on the patio table, he rose and slipped inside the house.  A few minutes later, he came back outside.  His face was frozen, yet polite.   The perfect politician’s face.

Instantly, Norman knew something terrible had happened.

“Would you mind watching Hunter for me?” Grayson asked.  “He should be finishing his homework in his room.  I won’t be long.  Dallas Jean and Adelaide are in jail.  I must bail them out.”

Norman pursed his lips.  “Charges?”

“Assaulting an officer, robbery, fleeing police, property damage, trespassing, battery…. should I continue?”

“No, no,” Norman murmured.  He buried his face in his hands.  “And Clementine Jane?”

“She’s the one who called.”  Grayson’s face showed no emotion.  “She’s at the newspaper right now, finishing up the front page article for tomorrow’s paper.”

Norman peeked through his fingers.

“You don’t want to know what it’s about,” Grayson answered, though Norman’s lips had ever moved.   “Excuse me.  I’ll be back shortly.”

As he hurried out the door, Norman Wellington threw his coffee off the veranda.

If this campaign was ever going to be a success, he had to find a way to take care of Dallas Jean Lee.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have a new creative woman and a week of more fun!  Stay tuned!