Cujo II - The Return of the Buzzsaw

Chapter One

Hello, dear readers. Here is the follow-up Cujo story I'd promised several centuries ago. Those of you who may remember the first one, are probably old enough to be in a 'home' and may not be remembering much of anything these days.

This one will be a little darker than the first one. My 'Shecky' muse has deserted me and, at the moment, it's harder to find the humor in life. Let me know what you think of the attempt.

As usual, the mistakes are mine. Don't let them give you nightmares.

Disclaimer: Don't own any part of the 5-0 franchise. Don't make any money from this attempt to entertain myself. Just admiring them from afar. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to wipe the drool off my television screen.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

A Small Territorial Dispute

The day was as perfect as were most all the days here in the land some call a tropical paradise. The sun shone brightly, the birds chirped in the koa trees. Though it wasn't actually visible from here; he was sure the ocean was as blue as the post cards depicted it. Everything was just freakin' peachy!

The very epitome of un-peachiness sat staring at him from the middle of his desk with unblinking yellow eyes and a smirk . . . yes, definitely a smirk . . . thought the detective, on its furry little face.

This was another showdown. One of the many over the past few months since 'The Spawn of Satan' had become a permanent fixture at 5-0's headquarters.

"Steven!" yelled Danny Williams, "Come get your damned cat off my desk!"

"Just shoo him off." Came the voice from an office further down the hallway.

"Yeah, right. I'm not the freakin' 'cat whisperer' and, unlike someone I know, I'm also not suicidally reckless. I have a kid to raise!" retorted the blonde man caught in only the latest 'O.K. Corral' moment in his glass enclosed office.

"Oh, come on D! You're bigger than he is, not by much, mind you, but you've got the height and weight advantage. My money's on you this time big guy."

"Enough with the height remarks you overgrown giraffe, just get your psychotic little pet out of my office, dammit!

"He's not my pet, Danny. He's our official mascot and rodent control device. I don't have pets as you call them." Came the voice again.

"Yeah, whatever, cat lady. He's on my last nerve. You want me to just shoot the little fucker, 'cause I will. If he spills any more of my blood, get ready to donate some of your own, McGarrett!"

"All right, all right. Don't get your undies in a bundle. I'll come rescue your ass . . . again." said the tall, dark haired man who'd appeared in the doorway; corded arms folded over his chest and amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Cujo!" he said "Stop bothering the man. He's sensitive, you're going to give him a complex."

The cat turned his head to look up at his chosen human and then back toward the man sitting behind the desk, as if weighing his options.

Hmm . . . Danny could almost hear the fierce little creature thinking . . . Fresh blood or a time-out locked in the kitchen . . . decisions, decisions . . .

"Sensitive, my ass! If your demented little piranha doesn't get his mangy tail off my desk, I'm gonna break a two-by-four over his head! No, no, I take that back. It would only give him a concussion and, since he's just like you, you ninja freak - with a head thick as a block of granite, he'd just pop up and meow the equivalent of 'I'm good'. You know what? Why even bother, I'll just shoot him!"

At that moment, the cat made its decision and with a meow that may have meant, Later, asshole!, jumped down from his adversary's desk to wind itself around the leg of Five-0's resident badass and (according to his very annoyed partner) - world's biggest sucker.

Said badass, AKA, Commander Steven J. McGarrett laughed and bent down to pick up the small, grey cat and scratch it behind its ears as it purred loudly in his arms.

"Daniel, I don't know why you're so afraid of a little half-grown kitty." he said trying to keep a straight face as he could see his partner's face redden as he wound himself up for a proper rant.

The blonde man's nearly legendary outbursts, somehow, entertained the man who happened to be his boss, (in a less formal way than one would think), friend and partner.

McGarrett couldn't even explain it himself. Witnessing one of Detective Danny Williams' infamous rants was like watching a combination of stand-up comedy, fireworks display and helicopter landing.

The head of 5-0 had even gotten good at tuning it out when it was no longer amusing. He suspected Danny had begun to catch on that his partner was mentally channel surfing but, he hadn't, so far, called him on it.

"My life turned to shit the moment this whacked out buzzsaw walked in the door McGarrett!" said the height challenged detective, his hands starting to whip the air.

"I thought your life was already shit, D. At least that's what you tell me every day you spend on, and I quote: 'This godforsaken pile of steaming volcanic caca'. One of your more creative descriptions I might add."

Danny wasn't really at full RPM yet; the display was going to get more animated. McGarrett stood calmly; holding the still purring object of his partner's wrath. He schooled his face to reveal none of his fascination or amusement at the drama of it all. This is going to be a good one. I could sell tickets.

"Are you even listening to me!" huffed the more than agitated detective at his tall, annoyingly calm, partner who nodded back gravely that he was, indeed, listening.

"Someday, that little piranha is going to pick on the wrong person and someone's gonna shoot his fat little ass!"

"His ass isn't fat." defended the tall man.

"That's what you're getting from this? That this is a discussion of that psychotic little asshole's physical fitness?"

"Uhh, no?"

"Do you even have a clue as to what could happen if he bites someone like, say, the fucking Governor of fucking Hawaii!"

"You're the only one he's ever bitten, Danny. Well . . . except, of course, that dead drug dealer and a couple of his henchmen but, Cujo didn't actually kill him; I did."

"That's your criteria for deciding if El Gato del Diablo is a dangerous animal . . . if he actually kills somebody!"

"You know, it's very sexy when you speak Spanish." said the man now trying not to explode in laughter.

"Get out! Just get out! Take your cat from hell with you!"

The blonde man was now beyond rational speech as he stood and whipped his hands and arms in fierce gestures meant to urge his irritating partner and his pet shark to vacate his office.

McGarrett turned and went out Danny's office door, his laughter trailing behind him.

He heard his partner banging things around on his desk; muttering something about "fucking, brain damaged Neanderthals and their fucking psychotic, blood-thirsty pets!"

Way better than T.V., thought McGarrett.

...

Things were pretty much as they usually were. Cases were resolved by paperwork or gunfire, sometimes both.

The last one had been a little hairy. It took the governor's special task-force, SWAT and Animal Control to deal with the smugglers who'd managed to import several types of exotic and poisonous snakes and other creatures; along with brightly colored and even more poisonous frogs from South America.

It was a very profitable business if one could pull it off without being caught by the authorities or bitten by one's own merchandise. The State of Hawaii was especially vigilant about protecting its native environment from anything that didn't belong. Its beauty was a delicate balance of factors the government couldn't afford to jeopardize because someone wanted an exotic pet or two and was willing to spend large sums of money to acquire them.

The smugglers themselves had been dangerous enough when they decided to fight it out rather than surrender. As a distraction, (a really good one), they'd turned loose all manner of creatures in the warehouse that held their living stash of inventory.

Dodging bullets and the bites and stings of whatever was crawling around in the dimly lit building was more than nerve wracking for them all.

There were the beautiful but deadly poison dart frogs from the rainforests and bird eating tarantulas big as dinner plates among several other deadly and/or creepy critters.

Danny had yelled just in time to keep his partner from being bitten by a very large and very annoyed snake that had dropped down behind him from one of the opened crates stacked on top of one another all around them.

McGarrett had leaped aside while flipping another crate down on top of it to trap it. He didn't shoot it because the zoo people had told him how valuable some of the animals were and Danny said they may also be needed as evidence. He'd still rather have shot it.

When everything was over and done; the criminals were rounded up with no fatalities for man or beast. It was time to go back to the office, write their reports and try to put that creepy-crawly feeling to rest.

The four of them decided to not even go home to clean up. Showers were available at HQ and they took advantage of them, putting on whatever clothing they'd had in their lockers or scrounged from others. All of them, Kono included, wound up with one of the stock of T-shirts their slightly OCD boss kept in a drawer in his desk. He was always changing into a clean shirt when they'd come back from anything that had gotten him dirty or sweaty.

At first, Danny thought it was just his arrogant partner trying to show off his amazingly cut physique but, as time went on, he realized it was just the habit of needing to feel as squeaky clean as possible, (a somewhat neurotic one, thought the blonde man but, not for him to judge).

The little detective also realized that while his partner sometimes seemed smugly confident about his abilities, he wasn't really one who traded on his physical appearance. Of course the man knew he had no problem attracting admiring females and, if rumor was to be believed, the admiration from afar of a male aid to the new governor but, he really wasn't a vain person. At times, he could even be completely unaware of the stir he'd cause among the fairer sex.

Danny Williams was no slouch in the attractiveness department himself. Sea blue eyes, thick blond hair and an athletic build served him well. He had the swagger of a man used to making an impression on the ladies. It was a little more difficult to pull-off in a place that prided itself on its casual way of dress. The detective still hadn't abandoned the dark slacks and shiny leather loafers he regularly wore. He'd, finally, been convinced to leave the tie for more formal occasions.

When they'd become more comfortable with each other after the rocky beginning of their working partnership, McGarrett had chided him; saying he had no idea how Danny had ever attracted the stunning woman who was his ex-wife.

Rachel was a beauty but, not necessarily the best choice for the spouse of a dedicated policeman. It was a long story but, suffice to say, she was a little too emotionally high-maintenance, to make it work.

The team had decided to celebrate the closure of the case by gathering at their usual watering hole. The restaurant; with its large but cozy and dimly-lit bar was a good place to drink away the leftover willies of their most recent case. McGarrett, for one, intended to get as plastered as possible without actually passing out before he could get home. Being inebriated in front of his 'subordinates' wasn't kosher but, being sloshed in front of his ohana was acceptable.

He didn't usually go about his relaxation with the laser-like focus for which he was both renowned and reviled. Alcohol was nice but not a necessity in his life. This was a special occasion. The creatures they'd recently encountered had given him industrial strength heebie-jeebies. Brave man though he was, he had his limits.

The sentiment seemed to be the popular one that night. They all had the next two days off. Everyone was more than ready to let their hair down a little this evening.

Earlier, when all criminals and critters had been secured, and the team had returned to the palace, they'd actually put down a tarp in the parking lot and laid all of their vests, weapons and whatever else had been used in the op to make sure there were no stowaways. Only after everything had been carefully inspected was it put back in its rightful place.

Danny had learned from one of the people sent over from the reptile house at the zoo; the snake that had almost landed on Steve was a Fer de Lance. It was most likely from the jungles of Bolivia or Brazil and one of the most poisonous snakes in the world. That alone was more than enough reason for the blonde man and his partner to have an extra drink or two.

"Steven, I just want to know one thing." said Danny as he draped his arm around his partner's shoulder, knocking him momentarily off balance; the two of them nearly tumbling off the stools on which they sat.

"What's that D?" asked McGarrett, his eyes red and slightly glazed.

"How come you put up with that crazy cat? He's psychotic, almost as psychotic as you are, my fine human communications challenged friend."

"OK Danny, say that last part five times fast." giggled Kono who'd paused in downing a tequila shot so she could watch her boss and her co-worker interact in their sometimes hilariously funny way. At least it was hilariously funny tonight, as was pretty much everything at this point in their evening.

"I'm not communi . . . what you said." defended the tall man who was beginning to sway slightly and blink at his partner; trying to focus so that there was only one of him. "I talk to people all the time."

"Yeah, Steven but, when and with whom do you have conversations that don't include the words: gunfight, ammo, ops or . . . classified.?"

"All the time. I talk to you. I talk to Cath . . . I really miss Cath. I wanna go visit her tonight."

"Didn't you say she was stationed somewhere in the Middle East right now?"

"Oh . . . yeah. I guess it'll have to wait."

"That's a good possibility Steven."

...

At the end of the evening, no one was feeling any pain. Since no one had volunteered to be designated driver, they'd all piled into one cab to take them to their various homes.

Steve had elected to go back to the office, saying he could sleep it off on his couch and then he'd have his truck available to him first thing in the morning. He and Danny had arrived at the restaurant in the Camaro which was still there in the parking lot.

He'd pick up Danny in the morning, (or early afternoon, depending on the size of the headache and they'd, in turn, pick up Kono who lived next closest so that she could also retrieve her car from the restaurant parking lot. She'd then fetch Chin and give him a ride back to HQ to get his bike.

They had it all worked out. It was a plan. Well, you know the saying about best laid plans . . .

...

Steve groaned and rolled off the sofa, hitting the floor with a thud.

"Oh God"

He felt as though each follicle on his scalp had it's own little jackhammer just pounding away. He reluctantly opened his eyes, blinking furiously at the painful intrusion of light. When he actually managed to open them all the way and keep them open, he found himself staring into large, yellow eyes only inches from his face.

"Oh, yeah" he croaked out "Forgot you were here. Give me a minute and I'll get up and feed you . . . don't look at me that way. Haven't you ever had a hangover?"

He sat up carefully, holding his head to keep it from rolling off his shoulders and dropping to the floor to break into a million aching little pieces.

The cat looked at him and meowed expectantly. Hangover or not, it was time for breakfast dammit.

"Hey, buddy, why don't I just give you kibble this morning, huh? I can't handle the smell of that canned stuff right now. Danny's right, it is pretty disgusting."

He managed to stand without incident. Once he was actually upright, it wasn't so bad; though anything more strenuous than just breathing and walking wasn't a good idea.

His mouth felt as though the cat had actually slept in it last night and his stomach rolled at the thought of anything other than water, cold, clear, gallons of water.

He went into the lunchroom, opening a cupboard to get the sack of kibble. He managed to pour the dry food into Cujo's bowl, the one with 'Attack Cat' written on it. Danny had bought the matching water bowl that was labeled 'Flea Bag'.

Anything with an odor of any sort was nauseating. He held his breath as the dry pellets plinked into the earthenware dish but made the mistake of reading the printing on the side of the bag . . . Tuna and Egg Flavor. That did it.

He made a dash for the men's room, making it just in time before his stomach expelled what ever was in it and kept on going. When he was finally done with the dry heaves, he flushed the toilet, wincing at the sound of it and went to the sink to throw some water on his face and head.

When he, finally, exited the men's room, there was a small animal staring up at him almost reproachfully.

"Sorry" muttered the tall man.

He walked slowly and carefully back to his office, trying not to jostle his brain which was pounding in his skull as though trying to escape through his ears. He carefully lowered himself into his chair and reached for the phone.

He called Danny but, there was no answer, he hung up before the voice mail feature kicked in. Just as well. Even the thought of venturing into the daylight was painful. Actually, 'thought' in general, was pretty much painful at the moment.

Whose stupid idea was it to drink that much last night? He thought as he draped an arm over his face and lay back down on his uncomfortable office couch with a groan.

...

An hour later, he felt marginally better and punched number one on his speed dial. A scratchy sounding voice answered. It had to be his partner but, it certainly didn't sound like him.

"Steven? Whose idiot idea was it to drink that much last night?"

"I think the drinking thing was a mutual decision. We're probably not the only ones in pain."

"I hope you're right. I want my misery to have company. Chin and Kono better be feeling as crappy as I do or I'm gonna be pissed. I think squirrels have set up a nest in my mouth."

"You kind of sound like they're still in there Danno."

There was a groan then a long pause and squeaking springs and rustling fabric as it sounded like Danny was trying to untangle himself from his bedding. Even though he'd managed to find a place to live, the hefty deposit had eaten up any money he'd set aside for a new bed. He was still camping out on the world's most uncomfortable sleeper sofa.

"Now, what was I saying?"

"Something about squirrels sleeping in your mouth?"

"No, not that you idiot. Why do you only remember things like that Steven? Do you remember to wait for back-up? No. Do you remember to . . . "

"Danny?"

"Oh, yeah."

There was another pause and then an intake of breath. "Snakes!" suddenly remembered the man on the other end of the line.

"Among other creatures." said McGarrett, losing patience with the guessing game.

"Well, at least I could sleep last night . . . make that, this morning. I don't think I'd have been able to if I hadn't gotten plowed. Those bastards at that warehouse . . . that was just so wrong."

"Did you get enough sleep 'cause you sound like you're still in la-la land."

"Does passing out count as actual sleep? I'm not sure."

"Me either. You ready to go get your car?"

"Yeah, give me a couple minutes to find my ass and throw it in the shower. I know I left it around here somewhere."

"Take your time, D. I'm gonna stop at home first anyway. A shower sounds like a good idea and clothing that doesn't smell like a bar. I don't have any T-shirts left here for some reason."

"It was all for a good cause. After crawling around in that warehouse with whatever else was crawling around in that warehouse, I'd have gone naked if I had to."

"Please don't."

"Don't what?

"Give me a picture in my head of you parading around in the altogether."

"If I did, it would just be to show you what to aspire to."

"You've always been my inspiration Danno." chuckled his partner

"Yeah, whatever. See you in a few minutes."

...

It took only a few minutes for the tall man and his furry passenger to pack up and begin the drive toward home. It was Cujo's turn to haunt the McGarrett home instead of the halls of the Palace as he did during the week. Weekends were spent exploring the house with the world's biggest litterbox as its back yard.

For the little cat, it was an enjoyable vacation from all that sleeping on the desks, tables, shelves and window ledges; the in-boxes and out-boxes, cupboards and drawers of the 5-0 headquarters.

The life of a cat is never easy. Finding just the right sunny spot in which to take a nap can be exhausting. For the moment, he dozed on the seat of the Silverado as it traveled the familiar road.

It was a pleasant late morning drive. If Steve McGarret hadn't been so hungover, he might have noticed the dark sedan trailing him through the city.

*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*

TBC