Lemon Curry?
© 2025 by Walter Reimer

Bernie Phlute ©  eocostello
Titles by  marmelmm
Music by Ferde Grofé
Suits by ‘Rick’ of Altoona

Thumbnail art by  karno

Part Twenty-seven.


Before the referee could bring his paw down for the first slap, El Peludo twitched his right shoulder clear of the mat before arching his back. He brought his legs up, booted feet clamping on either side of the wolf’s neck. Another twitch to the right and the opponent was thrown off while the crowd in the gym cheered.

The referee retreated as El Peludo stood, took a moment to adjust his mask, and charged at the wolf as the lupine staggered to his feet. The bigger mel collided with the opponent, his momentum driving both into the ropes. El Peludo twisted as the pair rebounded and hurled the wolf across the ring and through the ropes on the opposite side, causing the lupine to land on the floor and crash into the first row of benches to the cheers and applause of the crowd.

El Peludo backed up against the ropes and used them to help him run across the mat. He leaped, diving between the ropes to crash into the wolf before picking himself up. Grabbing the wolf by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his pants, El Peludo tossed his opponent back into the ring.

“Wow,” Phlute said, lowering his soda bottle from his beak. “Pretty flashy moves.” He glanced at Dorpf, who was growling while glaring at the action in the ring. “Gee, you’re getting into the spirit of things, aren’t you Jacob?”

The Boston terrier didn’t reply, staring at the fight as his paws fumbled with his suit coat in search of his pistol.

The wolf regained his footing just as El Peludo finished climbing to the top of one of the corner turnbuckles, and the larger fur launched himself at his opponent. He struck the wolf solidly, knocking him to the mat and pinning him.

However, El Peludo rolled off the wolf rather than completing the pin. He reached down and grabbed the dazed lupine, hauling him to his feet and delivering a trio of hard forearm strikes to the wolf’s face and upper chest before turning him around, grasping him by the scruff of the neck and driving his head into the turnbuckle. He jerked the wolf’s head back and looked at his face.

A pair of yellow eyes glared at him, and the wolf’s fur and outline seemed to waver.

El Peludo spared a glance at the crowd. “¡ABRID LAS VENTANAS!” he roared.

Several of the gym’s staff leaped to obey, pulling away curtains and pushing windows open to admit the bright afternoon sunlight. The wolf began to struggle, hissing and growling as his lupine guise began to fade.

Despite his resistance, El Peludo dragged the creature into the sunlight, putting him into a full Nelson before jerking his face up to meet the glare of the sun.

Dazed, terrified and no longer having the willpower to maintain his disguise, the chupacabra screamed, several of the onlookers crossing themselves as it writhed in El Peludo’s grasp, its cries fading as it evaporated in the radiance and left only its red and blue singlet and boots behind, along with a musty odor reminiscent of stagnant water.

El Peludo dropped the singlet and took a step back, crossing himself piously as he caught his breath. Others in the gym crossed themselves and muttered as the wrestler wearily left the ring. He paused and walked around the ring to face where Phlute, Dorpf, and Enrique were sitting.

The young goat was mopping his brow, his ears straight down. “Dios mio, El Peludo! Are you all right?” The larger fur nodded and Enrique gave a relieved sigh. “Thank God. I – I never truly believed what the Professor was afraid of, until today.”

El Peludo nodded. “But now you see what we are fighting.”

Enrique nodded mutely. Dorpf had sat back down, breathing a little heavily as he composed himself, wringing his paws.

Phlute applauded and said, “That’s a great performance! You going to work that into your usual act?” The stork looked around. “I don’t see any mirrors, though; really super job.”

The bigger fur gazed at the stork before giving a tiny shrug. “It is no matter,” El Peludo said. “Are you going back to the home of Professor Ortiz?” he asked Phlute.

The stork nodded. “Yeah.”

“Bueno. I shall wash up, and I shall go with you. I must speak with Professor Ortiz, and with both of you.” The wrestler turned, accepted a towel from a staff member, and walked off.

Phlute started to get up and looked down at Dorpf. “Hey, Jacob? You okay?”

“Huh?” the Boston terrier asked in a curiously vacant voice.

“You okay?” the stork repeated. “You looked a little, um, feral earlier.”

Dorpf shook himself and put a paw to his forehead. “Don’t know,” he said. “Don’t know what came over me. It was like . . . when I saw those two wolfesses . . . “ His ears went back.

Phlute shrugged. “Probably nothing,” he said. He and Dorpf gathered up their empty bottles and other trash, putting the bottles into a box with other bottles to be turned in, and stuffing their trash into a nearly-overflowing garbage can.

As the stork and the terrier stepped outside, Phlute asked, “How do you think he did it?”

“Huh?”

“Made that wolf disappear.”

The terrier furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. “Professor Ortiz said they couldn’t stand the sunlight – “

“Pfft,” Phlute waved the suggestion away. “Hocus-pocus from an old book. Honestly, Jacob, I wonder how you get these notions in your head sometimes.”

Dorpf raised a finger and started to say something, paused, and shut his mouth as Enrique and El Peludo came out of the gym. “Come with us, mi amigos,” the large fur said. “Time is short,” and he began walking with a fast, purposeful stride that caused Dorpf to nearly trot to keep up.

They entered the grounds of the Ortiz house as the gardener, Eduardo, finished locking up the garden shed. The wolf averted his eyes as he tried to walk past El Peludo, but the luchador reached out an arm and grabbed the gardener by the shoulder. He yanked the wolf toward him, making Eduardo stumble. He leaned close and said something that the others couldn’t hear, but Eduardo’s ears flattened and his tail tucked between his legs.

“Go,” El Peludo said, and the wolf took to his heels. “Come, my friends.”





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