Chapter 28

My father has always been the type of person that when he tells his sons to do something, they should do it at that exact moment without asking any questions.

I followed along with this for many years, until I reached the end of my rope. I was eighteen, knew everything there was to know and didn’t have to put up with him anymore. He didn’t like to hear us use the word “no”, unless it was a yes or no question.

There is a part of me that still has trouble telling him “no” when he asks me to do something. That was pounded into me hard when I was but a young lad and it will never change. But I have rejected him many times since then.

I don’t know who felt worse afterward, me or him. Now, my father was making a request of me, probably the hardest one he had ever done.

“I need you to take over the paper,” he said. I was floored. That would mean everything I had worked for all these years would be thrown away. I was comfortable in my life. I liked my job, the lack of stress and basically having no worries.

Now the people in this town that I thought were out of my life forever, were jumping back in and doing their best to mess up what I had.

What really stunk was that it was almost impossible to turn them down. My second ex-wife, April, wants me to take care of some kid she named after me that I did not father and my father wants me to captain a sinking ship.

“Dad, I can’t do that,” I said.

“You just need to do it until the paper sells," he said. "I’ve called a broker and he’s going to list the paper.”

“That could take a long time.”

“Yeah, but it might be sold next week, too.”

Yeah, and if my aunt had testicles she would be my uncle.

“I don’t think you can sell it for enough to pay off the house and the paper,” I suggest.

He did not want to hear that. Dad knows it, but would rather not listen to me say it. Some of the old anger is visible on his face. He wants to say something along the lines of, “if I’d wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it”. I heard that line too many times while growing up. It’s on the tip of his tongue, just dying to come out.

But Dad suppresses it, knowing he has to be nice. This isn’t one of those “Would you run down to the store and get a gallon of milk?” kind of requests. Nope. This one is rather big.

Dad doesn’t want to talk about it, but I do. He got us into this mess and needs to help get us out.

“So, let’s say we do sell the paper,” I suggest. “What do you think it can sell for?”

He shrugged. Dad had no idea.

“You’ve decided to sell the paper, but have no idea what it is worth?”

“Not really,” he said, again staring at the wall. It must be a nicer view than the disgusted look I know is on my face. “The, uh, broker is supposed to help me determine that. He does these things all the time, you know?”

If I was supposed to be comforted by that, it didn’t work. There are many good brokers out there, I have known and dealt with many. But there are others out there who make Squiggy seem intelligent and honest. Just like some newspaper reporters and bankers.

“When’s he supposed to be here?” I asked.

“Sometime next week.”

I heard the rumble coming in the hallways again. The bed banging against anything in the way, and some things that weren’t. Mule and Squiggy were laughing and hollering. They had apparently given the security the slip. All of a sudden, the noise stopped.

Dad and I stared at the door, hoping it wouldn’t open. Just when we thought it was safe, the door flew open. Squiggy was first, staggering in, carrying a beer bottle in one hand and a sack full of its brothers in the other.

He was followed by his girlfriend for the weekend, the one that was picked up at The Last Call. She was showing even more cleavage tonight, not that I thought it was possible. There was no way to wear a bra and show that much of her assetts so she had obviously decided to go without one.

That was not a good choice. She was wearing a tight shirt, but it did not have enough strength to keep those things in order. I was surprised she hadn’t blacked both eyes when she was running in the halls.

Mule brought up the rear. He seemed to be even drunker than the other two. He was wearing an old pair of jeans that were stained badly, hopefully not from when Mule puked outside. His shirt was an old dress shirt with the sleeves removed and only buttoned halfway from the bottom. Mule saw the empty bed next to the one my father occupied and headed straight for it. He dove on it face first.

Dad was watching all this, then turned to look at me. I knew he was thinking if these are the kinds of friends I have, there was no way I could save the house.

Mule didn’t move for a few seconds. Then, he started snoring. I have heard some loud snoring in my life, but nothing that compares with his. His head was facing toward us. Mule’s mouth was wide open. His intake of air sounded like an air horn going off, several times. When he pushed it back out, it sounded like a tornado bearing down on the hospital.

I stared at Squiggy. He thought it was funny. So did the girl. Her opinion of Squiggy had obviously changed since I suggested she turn her attention toward him. Now, Squiggy was the apple of her eye.

I hated to think of what happened between them since their passionate romance started last night. Some things are better left unsaid, but I knew Squiggy would want to share every disgusting detail as soon as we were alone.

My father was not enjoying these visitors, but was more worried about the woman’s breasts falling out of the shirt and bouncing off the floor.

He wanted to say something but had apparently lost the ability to communicate.

Squiggy looked around the room, then at my father.

“Old dude, you look like crap,” he said, drawing the last word out way too long.

“People tend to look that way when they’re in the hospital,” I said.

“I gotta pee!” the woman exclaimed. We were all overjoyed to learn this.

“Good for you,” Squiggy stated. “Ya better use the bathroom this time.”

This time? I didn’t want to know. Squiggy and Mule had relieved themselves in the parking lot. There was no telling where she went.

“Okay,” she replied and leaned over to kiss him. He pulled back and sneered at her. “Sorry, Squiggster.”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “Don’t be kissing me in front of the old man.”

I made the mistake of looking at Squiggy. He looked like one big hickey. There were suck marks all over his neck and cheeks.

“Where’s the toilet?” she said. Now, I made the mistake of looking at her. There were two big twin hickeys, one on the upper base of each bosom.

I pointed at the bathroom. She walked by Mule and checked him out.

“How much longer they givin you?” Squiggy asked my father.

“Do what?” I asked.

“How much longer’s he gonna live?”

My father looked horrified. That was not the proper way to check on an ill person.

Squiggy finished a beer and tossed it toward the trash can. It rimmed out, hit the floor and broke.

“Dadgum!” he said. “I’ll git her to clean it up.”

He grabbed another beer out of the sack and held it out to my father.

“How bout a brew?” he said. Apparently Squiggy had never learned that hospital patients usually abstain from drinking alcoholic beverages. I remembered that Squiggy told me that he had a recent stint in the hospital from some accident, but that didn't keep him from drinking.

“I do not think so!” my father said. Since the large-chested female left the room, his ability to talk had returned. We heard what sounded like a flowing river coming from the bathroom, then a heavy sigh. I realized she had not bothered to shut the door.

“Shut the dang door!” Squiggy hollered, loud enough to be heard throughout the hospital. “We don’t wanna hear you pee!”

She grunted and it sounded like a bowling ball had fallen into the toilet.

“Oops!” she said and giggled.

Squiggy glared at the bathroom.

“Where’s your dadgummed manners, woman?” he shouted, almost as loud. “We ain’t got no air freshener in here!”

“Sorry, Squiggy.”

“Shut the dang door!”

The door slowly closed. Squiggy was shaking his head violently, only stopping long enough to take a gulp.

“Y’all sure you don’t want no beer?” he asked. “They’s just a little warm.”

Ah, warm beer, friends you wished would disappear and hospitals. What a combination.

“Dadgum,” Squiggy said, staring at the other bed. “Mule sounds like Big Uns does when she’s a sleepin.”

“Who?” I foolishly asked.

“Big Uns,” he answered, and nodded toward the bathroom.

“You call her ‘Big Uns’?”

“Yeah, she don’t seem to mind. I think she kinder likes it.”

“Don’t you know her name?”

“She told me, but I forgot it.”

Dad was lying on the bed, his mouth open. He had never shown any open disdain for Squiggy prior to today, unlike my mother, but had never spent any time with him. I was sure he would share my mother’s opinion after tonight.

“You got one of them things that lets ya pee and not go to the toilet?” he asked. “A carpenter?”

“It’s a catheter, Squiggy,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant. You got one of them?”

My father nodded, slowly. He turned to look at me, pleading for help.

“That must be nice just bein able to stay in the bed and go without havin to git up.”

The woman emerged from the bathroom, looking quite perky.

“Shut the dang door, woman!” Squiggy exclaimed. “You born in a barn?”

“Naw, in the back seat of a car,” she answered while shutting the door. “Why?”

Squiggy was about to tell her when the door opened. My mother led the way, followed by some guy wearing a fake cop outfit. He had a little patch on his shoulder, telling the world that he was “Hospital Security”.

He was a short guy, skinny as a t-post. His hair was cut short, trying to go for the commando look. He strolled past my mother, both arms held out like an old time gunfighter. I saw that he had attempted to grow a fu manchu, but his beard wasn't thick enough and the hairs didn't connect.

“What seems to be the problem here?” he said, briskly. I had never heard anybody talk so fast. It was almost like that sentence was one long word.

“What’d you say?” Squiggy asked, looking at me for a translation. "Hee hee, you like the runt of the litter."

"What! It's not the size of the dog in the fight, mister, it's the fight in the dog."

"You don't look like you got much size or fight in you, ya little banty rooster."

“He asked what the problem was,” I said.

“Aw, she went to the john to pee and made a deposit while she was in there. I wanted her to shut the door so we wouldn’t smell it.”

“Squiggy!” she shouted. “You’ve been a fartin all day. You smell like a backed up septic tank in a mobile home without any air conditioning in the middle of the summer! Did you ever hear me complain?”

“I ate some beans for breakfast," he told me and my father, then turned back to her. "I admit some of um kinda had an odor, but you smells like a…”

“You!” the rent-a-cop said, pointing at Squiggy and thankfully interrupting him. “Are you supposed to be in this room? Visiting hours are over!”

“Huh?”

“They were just fixing to leave,” I said.

The rent-a-cop happened to notice Mule, sprawled out on the bed, still snoring away.

“He doesn’t look like a patient!”

Gosh, that guy could talk fast. Now he had both hands on his hips, trying to look tough.

“You talking about Mule?” he asked.

“Mule? Is that his name?”

“I think it’s more like a nickname.”

“Why do you call him ‘Mule’? Is it cause he’s strong?”

“Naw, it’s cause he’s got a…”

“You don’t want to know,” I interrupted. “Squiggy, you guys have to go.”

“We just got here!”

The rent-a-cop noticed the broken beer bottle and the one in Squiggy’s hand.

“What is that?” he said.

“Why it’s a beer," Squiggy said. "Ya want one?”

“You cannot have alcoholic beverages on hospital grounds.”

“Huh?” Squiggy said.

The rent-a-cop pulled out a walkey-talkey that was almost as big as him. He pressed the button and started talking into it.

“I just called the proper authorities,” the fake cop said. “I’d advise you to leave the premises promptly!”

“What’d he say?” Squiggy asked me.

“We better be goin,” Big Uns suggested.

“Okay, what bout Mule?”

“Just let him sleep it off,” she added.

“I don’t think so,” Dad said. “I don’t want to hear that all night.”

“He’s gotta go!” added fake cop. “We can’t have drunks just sleeping wherever they so choose.”

“Wake im up, then,” Squiggy said.

The fake cop sized up the situation, then realized that would not be easy.

“We can roll him out in the hall until he wakes up.”

Now that was just a brilliant idea. I watched as they rolled Mule out into the hall. The fake cop, my mother, Big Uns and Squiggy walked outside. I noticed Squiggy had forgotten his sack of beer and knew he would be back.

He came staggering back in, sniffed, then got a disgusted look on his face.

“Smells like something died in here,” he said. “I wasn't a talking bout you, Mister Hunt.”

Squiggy grabbed his sack of beer and started walking toward the door. He stopped just short, then turned around.

“Some guy’s outside a wantin to talk to you,” Squiggy added.

“Who was it?” I said.

“Heck if I know. He looked purdy rough.”

Chapter 29