Chapter 184: Poodle
The man stood up, casually put on a shirt and walked towards the bathroom. If Ron remembered correctly, the man should be called Phil, and he was the most reckless one in the group of four.
"Don't go, don't go!" The heavy guy was still jumping around like a caged monkey, and a big fat monkey at that.
"ROARRR~" The tiger let out a deafening roar.
"FUCK! There really is a tiger in there!"
Phil quickly slammed the door shut, and Ron was concerned about only one question: "Is there really a tiger? Are you absolutely sure it's not some Cirque du Soleil performer in a tiger costume? And what's with the black stockings? Did the tiger think it wasn't sexy enough so it raided a Victoria's Secret?"
"My brain is totally fried," Leonard shook his head. "I don't care if there's a tiger wearing lingerie in there. I just want to know where Howard and Raj are."
"And Doug, our groom - he's missing too." The dentist with glasses chimed in.
"Okay, guys, let's think this through," Ron said, rubbing his temples. "First, your groom is MIA, and so are our Jewish engineer and Indian astrophysicist, right?"
All four heads nodded.
"Then we have a tiger in designer hosiery. Whatever fashion statement it's making, it's definitely making one. By the way, did anyone else hear dogs barking? I think there's more than one yapping in the next room. Can someone check if one of our missing buddies is in there?"
Heavy-set Alan opened the door, was stunned by what he saw, and quickly slammed it shut.
"Yo, what's the deal in there?" Ron asked curiously.
"There's a dude in there!" The big guy covered his eyes. "You better see for yourself! I swear on my mother's meatloaf, I've never seen a man in such a sorry state!"
"A guy?"
First of all, it definitely wasn't their missing groom, or Alan would've recognized him. So it had to be either Raj or Howard.
Either way, it was at least progress - they'd found someone.
Unfortunately, when Ron pushed open the door, he found the man inside wasn't Raj or Howard, but a pathetic-looking Latino guy.
Why pathetic?
He was tied up and chained to the bed, face down. Apart from a ball gag to keep him quiet, all he had on were strips of fabric that could barely be called clothing.
And that wasn't the worst part.
Even Ron, a man of considerable experience, had never witnessed such an elaborate form of interrogation. "JESUS! Who the hell came up with this setup?! This is some next-level creativity!"
The man's body shook violently when he saw Ron enter. The guys behind Ron couldn't bear to look at his condition, so Ron had to untie him himself.
Since they'd apparently been together last night, this guy should know something.
"I was wrong! I promise to tell you everything! The whole truth! I'll answer anything you ask!" But as soon as the man was freed, he dropped to his knees before Ron, sobbing uncontrollably.
Ron was speechless: "Whoa, slow down there, buddy. I haven't even asked anything yet. Who are you?"
"My name is Rodriguez. I'm from El Paso, and I'm a... pharmaceutical distributor. Please let me go! I swear I'll pay every penny in back taxes! You can call the DEA to arrest me, but please, don't torture me anymore! I never want to see another dog again, especially not a poodle!"
Everyone looked at Ron with newfound respect and terror. So you're the mastermind behind this twisted interrogation technique?
"Alright, I don't remember jack about yesterday. Start from when we first met." Ron, ignoring the tiger situation for now, found a chair and began his questioning.
Hearing the interrogation begin, everyone gathered around, eager to learn what had happened the night before.
The man had no intention of running. Seeing Ron sit down, he quickly knelt before him, as obedient as a Sunday school kid. Ron couldn't believe this drug dealer's complete submission.
"Yesterday..."
From the man's description, Ron and his crew had encountered him around 11 PM. After Rodriguez had cleaned them out at a high-stakes poker game at some underground casino, Ron had confronted him, and a bag of drugs had fallen from his jacket.
Ron had immediately gone into IRS mode, demanding he pay taxes on his illegal earnings. The dealer had naturally refused and called in his muscle. They couldn't handle Ron's crew, so Ron had knocked all his guys out cold and taken Rodriguez hostage, forcing them to collect the "tax money."
Ron rubbed his temples. This definitely sounded like something he'd do.
"I'm America's most dedicated tax collector. Even blackout drunk, I'm still collecting revenue. That kind of dedication should earn me at least a $50,000 performance bonus from the Treasury Department, right?"
"So how many people were with us when you met us last night?" Leonard asked.
"There were eight of you total," the Latino man replied quickly, watching Ron's expression carefully.
"And then what? Where did they go?" Phil asked eagerly.
"Then you guys hit up a pet store, grabbed those poodles for the interrogation," the man said, looking traumatized. "But before you all passed out, it seemed like you went out again, and I swear I heard a tiger roaring."
So the missing guys must have disappeared during that second outing. The clue still lay with that tiger.
Frustrated by the lack of concrete answers, Ron shifted in his chair, causing the man to flinch. "My guys will have your tax money ready by 8 PM - every last cent, I swear on my abuela's grave!"
"Gag him and stick him in the closet," Ron irritably kicked the drug dealer aside, and the heavy guy quickly began tying him up again.
"Hey, could you please put on some pants first?" Ron said helplessly, then opened the bathroom door.
"ROAR... whimper~" For some bizarre reason, the tiger that had been roaring ferociously suddenly let out a pitiful whine the moment it saw Ron, and cowered in the corner like a scared house cat.
Ron could've sworn he just heard it meow.
No way. No freaking way. It was clearly a 400-pound Bengal tiger. Ron felt like this morning was getting more surreal by the minute.
(End of chapter)
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