Chapter 10

I have never been embarrassed to have Squiggy as a friend. I would rather some people did not know it, but in all the years we have known each other, I never wished he lived somewhere else.
A lot of other people did, however. Like my mother. She thought Squiggy was disgusting, something she shared with many others. My mom, just like most other mothers, preferred their children keep company with people who had good morals and knew the advantages of frequent bathing.

Squiggy didn’t have either of these two attributes high on his “To Do” list. He knew a lot of people didn’t like him. I’m sure it must have bothered him, but he never showed any remorse.

He tended to do and say the wrong things at the worst possible moments.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise that he waited until we got to my mom’s house to give me the scoop on Trevor Adams. He revved his engine to a higher decibel while driving through the residential areas and almost blew out the pipes once we parked in the driveway.

I wanted to find out what Squiggy knew about Trevor, but also wanted the Reader’s Digest abridged version, knowing my mother would not be happy about this beast parked in her driveway. Mom had pretty much given up worrying about what most of the neighbors thought since the ones she liked or worried about had died or fled to the countryside.

Squiggy couldn’t even get the story started before my cell phone rang.

I answered it, knowing what was coming.

“Michael, if you’re in that THING, I want it out of my driveway!” she practically yelled, skipping all greetings. “Somebody might drive by and see it!”

“Okay, Mom, nice talking to you,” I responded and flipped the phone shut.

Squiggy opened the door and hopped out, followed by Psycho.

“Uh, Squiggy, what are you doing?” I hollered. “Get back in the truck!”

“Hold your horsies,” Squiggy replied. “Psycho’s gotta wee and so do I.”

This was not good. I tried not to watch as Squiggy walked over next to a maple and relieved his beer-bloated bladder. Psycho was also about blitzed by now and staggered over to the flower bed and did nature’s business, adding an extra helping of fertilizer that I doubted Mom wanted mixed in with her pansies.

The phone rang again and I ignored it. First, Squiggy parked this thing in her driveway and was now using her yard as a public restroom. This was more than Mom could handle. I saw her looking through the mini-blinds, madder than a swarm of South American bees.

Squiggy walked back to the truck, followed by Psycho. I could swear they were both smiling, especially the dog.

“Git yer butt in the truck,” Squiggy hollered. Psycho took a running start and tried to jump in the truck. I heard a loud thud that shook the truck, then that little “hee-hee” of Squiggy and knew the dog failed.

Psycho let out a yip that could barely be heard over Squiggy’s laughing.

“Aw, is okay, girl,” Squiggy consoled his dog, leaning down and petting her. For just a second, I forgot what a foul creature he was. He lovingly picked her up, took her over to the entrance and heaved her inside, right on top of me.

The force of Psycho hitting me caused my head to thump against Squiggy’s sniper rifle. I saw stars for several seconds and wasn’t wakened out of my daze until Psycho started licking my face.

“She’s a startin to a warm up to you now,” Squiggy commented.

“Ugh,” I responded and pushed her away. I looked at the house and saw Mom standing at the doorway. “Tell me what you knew about Trevor Adams. Mom’s about to have a cow.”

I shouldn’t have put it that way. Squiggy looked at my mother and tried to figure out how that was possible.

He finished the last two-thirds of a beer in one swig then hacked up the massive chaw and tossed it in the yard. I made a mental note to get a shovel and remove that from the yard. It looked like it could bend a mower blade.

“Trevor Adams moved here last March from Yale,” he said, speaking with a clarity that almost made him sound like a normal person.

“The university?” I asked.

Squiggy looked at me like I was an idiot.

“Naw, the town up near Stillwater.”

“Why’d he come to Langford?”

“I’m gittin to it if you’d be patient.”

“Sorry,” I said. I should have known better than to rush one of Squiggy’s stories. You just have to let it develop and ferment, just like the homemade beer he used to keep in the bathtub.

“Anyways, our football team’s pretty much stunk the last five years or so,” he continued. “The school board finally got rid of the old coach and they hired Trevor.”

“You’re kidding?” I asked, knowing he wasn’t. “That man is a leader of our youth?”

“Naw, he’s our football coach,” Squiggy countered. “There’s a big difference. He’s hired to win some football games, not make good citizens of our boys.”

“Were all the good coaches hired?” I asked.

“Pretty much. Either that or they didn’t wanna come to Langford since most of the boys around here’d rather chase the chicks or hunt and fish.”

At one time, Langford was a powerhouse in all sports, especially football. I can’t remember the exact numbers, but only remember losing five or six games while we were in high school. Even Squiggy was a stud, a nose guard who took great pleasure in physically mauling the other team’s players. His personal record was sending four players to the hospital in one game thanks to his trademark ankle twist in the bottom of a pile and his groin gouging.

“Is he a good coach?” I asked.

Squiggy shrugged, eyeing his sack of beer.

“I ain’t real impressed with him,” he stated. “He was a dadgum assistant coach at a school smaller than Langford.”

“I can’t believe Langford would hire him,” I added, almost putting in “we” instead of “Langford”.
“Their teams been winning some ballgames so maybe somes of that’ll rub off on the boys.”

“I doubt it. How’ve they done so far?”

Squiggy shook his head and sneered at me.

“First game’s tonight against Vian,” he said. “Ya wanna go? It’s here.”

“I doubt it. I’ve got a lot of other things to do.”

Not that I did, but surely I could find something better to occupy my time instead of watching my old high school play football with that idiot coach.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, then climbed down from the truck. I didn’t tear any ligaments or break any bones, so I was happy.

Psycho moved to the door and stared down at me. I reached up to pet her. She growled and slobbered at me, so I pulled my hand back.

“I’ll sees you later,” Squiggy hollered as he revved up the engine and flew out of the driveway. I didn’t know if it was a promise or a threat.

Mom was waiting for me as soon as I entered the house.

“Please don’t allow that man near my house,” she requested.

“He just gave me a ride home,” I told her.

“You left with Sandy and return home with that thug,” she shook her head and looked disappointed.

I tried to explain what happened but she wouldn’t listen.

There was some loud ruckus in the back of the house.

“What was that?” I asked.

“It’s your father,” she answered. “He’s watching the Wheel.”

“He must be feeling better.”

“Your father always perks up a little this time of the day. I think it’s cause of Vanna. Go talk to him.”

It was either that or a continued tongue lashing from Mom about Squiggy so I decided to check on my father. Every few seconds, I heard him holler something. His door was open so I walked in. Dad didn’t notice me until I sat down.

He was sitting up in his bed, a little of the color had returned to his face. Dad was staring at the television with an intensity that bordered on maniac.

I turned to see what was so important and saw he was watching Vanna and Pat on the Wheel of Fortune.”

One of today’s contestants started to spin.

“Bankrupt!” Dad hollered. “Land on bankrupt!”

I had almost forgotten the joy Dad got from cheering against the contestants on this show. He watched it every night and went through the same ritual. I never saw him happier than he was when one of the contestants with a lot of money landed in the bankrupt slot.

“Yes!” he hollered. Some dorkey-looking guy had just hit bankrupt. While the contestant’s world looked like it was coming to an end, I had seldom seen Dad happier. “You deserved it, you commie!”

I had no idea why Dad was against this little fellow or considered him a “commie”, not that I really wanted to know either.

Back in my younger days, I used to get pleasure messing with Dad. The “Wheel” was always aired on two different channels, one out of Tulsa and the other out of Fort Smith. The Tulsa channel aired the show about one minute earlier. Dad always watched the Fort Smith channel since the reception was better.

I would figure out the answers and walk in the family room and solve the puzzle. There would be some long answer with a bunch of letters and I would solve it with only two or three letters showing.

He never figured out how I did it, but it severely hacked him off. Dad actually bought the Wheel of Fortune board game to try and teach me a lesson but I beat him bad. We only played once, since I won so easily, and the game was forever banned to the hallway closet.

I waited as Pat told the millions watching on television that they would be right back after this message from one of their sponsors.

“Are you feeling better?” I asked.

“A little,” he answered and took a drink. “What was your mother screaming about?”

“Squiggy.”

Dad needed no further explanation. He stared at me long enough that it made me feel uncomfortable.

“What?” I asked, fearing he would jump on me for something.

“Nothing.”

We watched a commercial talking about how Bob’s confidence is increased by taking some obscure medication and how Missus Bob was much happier now.

“What do they mean by that?” Dad asked.

“You got me,” I say, deciding my father doesn’t need to know about natural male enhancement. He has lived this long without them, or at least I hope he has, and can continue down that path.

A car commercial for a Chevy dealership in Fort Smith comes on, offering zero percent interest on select models for qualified buyers. The ad forgets to mention it is only for the cars nobody wants to buy.

“I almost forgot, you need to do something for me,” he said.

That was “said”, not “asked”. It was a statement.

The “Wheel” came back on and he told me what it was, something I wished he never remembered.

Chapter 11