Chapter 49

I find it hard to believe how mean some people are on this round orb that we call the planet Earth.

There are murderers, rapists, child molesters and even redneck cowboys who punch innocent guys in the bar and give him a black eye that everybody has stared at all week.

Then, there’s this guy or guys who is obviously upset with something that was in the newspaper. He has shot at me, cut my tires and took M.J. We were fortunate that he only took M.J. for a little while and returned the boy safely, sending him back with a chilling message.

M.J. had already told us that the guy would not miss next time or return the little guy. Those were bad enough. But the final message convinced me that we were dealing with somebody who was really unhinged in the thinking department.

“He told M.J. that if there’s another word in the paper that next time he’ll cut me a lot worse than he did your tires,” Mom said.

She was scared, not that I could blame her. Heck, I was scared, although I must admit getting shot seems to be a better way to go than getting your throat cut.

I looked for our tireless civil servants to see their reaction. They were too busy shoving food in their mouths to show much outrage.

“What are you going to do about this?” I asked.

“We’re gonna go arrest him,” Chief Arnold said.

Those words made me feel a lot better.

“Yep, right after we figger out which nut’s doing it.”

That probably would help. “Can you watch my mother or anything?”

“When she’s a dressin?” Squiggy asked. He had snuck up behind me. That was really gross. “No, Squiggy! Watch and make sure nobody comes around who isn’t supposed to be here.”

“Our boys will come around,” Chief Arnold said.

“We could always move Mule in,” Squiggy offered. We weren’t that desperate yet.

“Yeah, I’ll watch em!”

I could just picture Mule sitting on the front porch, right after he moved my father’s recliner out there. He would have a shotgun in his lap, a beer in his hand. I doubted my mother would allow him to move the refrigerator out on the porch, though. There would be beer cans scattered amongst the shrubs and flowers.

The grass would have brown spots from where he urinated instead of actually using indoor toilets. I know the neighbors would enjoy that about as much as my mother.

“That man’s taking another leak in the yard!” one of the male neighbors would say.

The wife would show outrage, while secretly enjoying it.

“Oh my!” she would add, echoing the words of my mother after seeing Mule peeing in the hospital parking lot.

No, that would not be a good idea. Mom did have to live with these people. Plus, if M.J. ever caught Mule taking a leak, the poor child would never recover.

“Aw, you cain’t live here,” Squiggy said, saving me the trouble of saying it. “Ya got a job!”

Mule brightened up for a second. “I do!”

Everybody looked a little surprised. Apparently, miracles did happen.

“Where are you going to work?” I asked.

“For dat Jay’s Septic Service. I know it’s a crappy job but somebody’s gotta do it.”

I started laughing, alone I might add. Nobody else seemed to get what Mule just said about septic and crappy. Oh well, life goes on.

“You laughin cuz I got a job?” Mule asked. He looked hurt, much like he was earlier while pouting that he had not engaged in premarital sex in a few days.

“Of course not!” I feigned outrage. “I liked the way you said that about working for a septic service and how it’s a crappy job.”

“Oh yeah!” Mule said, then faked a giggled. He turned to Squiggy. “What’d he mean by dat?”

Squiggy shrugged. “I’m just glad you ain’t no drain in society anymores.”

“He’s a workin man!” the sheriff pitched in.

Mule’s smile was slowly fading away. “I’ll miss riding around wif Squiggy drinkin beer.”

“Maybe this Jay guy will let you,” I suggested. Everybody within thirty feet glared at me. “What’s wrong?”

“Jay’s a chick,” Chief Arnold said.

“You’re kidding!” I practically shouted. Some woman goes around driving one of those trucks and sucks all the fecal material out of a septic tank? Ugh.

“What’s wrong wif dat?” Squiggy asked. “She ain’t bad lookin. Right Mule?”

Mule smiled. Apparently he had done more than empty septic tanks with this Jay woman.

“Aw, I’ve been wif uglier uns,” he admitted. Mom looked like she was going to yack. “Once ya git past the smell and turn the lights out, she ain’t bad.”

Okay, that was not information that needed to be discussed, especially in the presence of my mother.

“Squiggy, I need to get back down to the office,” I said. “How about a ride?”

“You betcha!” Squiggy looked happy. While we were here, he was having to sneak off and drink, something Squiggy just didn’t like. “Let’s roll!”

We started to walk away. Mule stopped and turned around.

“Y’all got some paper towels or sumthin?” he asked.

“I have a towel,” Mom answered. “What do you need it for?”

“I’d kinda like to ride in de front but there’s all this puke everwhere and I was gonna clean it up.”

“Let me find you some paper towels.”

Mom rushed off into the house, trailed by her little shadow named M.J. She returned with the quicker picker upper and handed it to Mule.

“Thank you,” he said. “Ya know, fer an older woman, you ain’t all that bad to look at. Maybe sometime…”

“Let’s go, Mule!” I shouted, interrupting his pick-up line for my mother.

He fell in line and trailed us back to the truck. Mule got the door open, crawled in and started picking up vomit chunks and throwing them in the ditch. I hoped Sandy would not drive by. She would never dump Trevor and come rushing back into my arms if she knew I was waiting for Mule to get vomit out of a truck so we could sit in the front.

“Der, I’m frew,” Mule announced.

Squiggy climbed up on his side and looked in. “Naw, ya missed a chunk right der!”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” Mule started to grab it.

“I’ll gives youse a dollar if ya eat it.”

“You want me to eat dat vomit for a dollar?”

Squiggy nodded. He had a mischievous look on his face.

“Lemme see the dollar first,” Mule requested.

“Eat the yack and you’ll see it.”

“I don’t trust you. Remember when you told me you’d give me a buck if I ate a cockroach? Ya never did pay me.”

“I will, dis time.”

“Show me the dollar!”

“I ain’t actually got one. He’ll give me one.”

Squiggy was pointing at me. Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate at all to loan a friend a dollar bill. But when it was to bet somebody they wouldn’t eat a vomit chunk, well, that was where I drew the line.

“No way,” I said.

Squiggy looked hurt. “Yer just chicken.”

“I ain’t chicken!” Mule argued. “I just don’t wanna eat part of Chili Dog’s vomit. You eat it!”

“Heck no. Then we’d have to clean up the Squigster’s vomit.”

I didn’t want to do it, but also didn’t want to stand next to this truck all night listening to them talk about eating somebody else’s throw up. I grabbed a paper towel, climbed up into the cab and grabbed the last of the hurl. I tossed it outside.

“Now we can go,” I said.

“How come ya did that?” Mule asked. “I was gonna earn a dollar.”

“I’ll give both of you a dollar if we can go and not talk about eating vomit again.”

“Make it a six pack and ya got a deal,” Squiggy countered, that heartless negotiator.

“Okay, let’s go.”

We finally got to leave. I was surprised the neighbors didn’t start clapping. As we got to the highway, Squiggy turned right, instead of left. We just passed Langford’s newest convenience store.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To git sum beer,” Squiggy shook his head. I was just full of stupid questions.

“We just passed the store.”

“We’s goin to Hodgen.”

“Why aren’t we buying it here?”

Squiggy grimaced, but wouldn’t answer. I looked to Mule.

“He’s banned from all de stores in Langford,” he said.

I wanted to ask why, but then decided that was not something I cared to talk about for the next fifteen minutes. So we started out of town. We cruised down the four-lane highway that runs to the edge of town. The stoplight was red and Squiggy was in the right lane. As we waited for our turn to proceed, some guy pulled up next to us in a truck that actually looked like it was in worse condition than Chili Dog’s.

Squiggy revved his engine. The guy in the other truck slowly turned his head in our direction. He nodded his head and revved his truck up. It was like some mating ritual for animals in the wild. This went on for several seconds. It was our turn to go, but they were too busy revving up their motors to care.

There was a line of traffic behind both trucks, ready to move. They started honking and hollering, not that Squiggy or the other driver cared. Finally, Squiggy stuck his head out of the window started the countdown.

“Five , fer, tree, uh…”

“Two’s next,” Mule suggested.

“I knew dat,” Squiggy said, but didn’t act all that convincing.

“Two, un, go!”

The other truck revved its engine to a new height. It squealed its tires and flew away from the stop light, leaving behind a cloud of smoke. Squiggy eased ahead slowly, getting a lot of enjoyment out of that.

“Psych!” he hollered out the window, not that the other driver could hear him since the other truck was a good quarter mile down the road.

“Ya got im, Squiggy!” Mule professed with much admiration.

We watched as a highway patrol car flew up from behind and passed with its lights on. The trooper had apparently seen the truck speed off. Squiggy scooted the truck over to the road’s shoulder and drove slowly. It was almost like he was a normal law-abiding citizen.

“Tee hee!” he laughed. It was that irritating giggle of his that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

Right before we got to the baseball fields south of town, Squiggy turned left and got on the old highway.

“I thought you were going to Hodgen?” I asked.

“Shortcut,” he answered.

“This isn’t a shortcut.”

Squiggy slowed down to almost a turtle’s pace in front of an old run-down house. There were catfish heads on the fence post, not that it surprised me. In the yard there was pipe welded together to form a stand to hoist engines or deer.

Squiggy was looking into the house and licking his lips. I looked inside and didn’t see anything.

“What’re you doing?” I asked.

“Watch!’ Mule said.

Squiggy had stopped on the road. Fortunately, this was a road that few people take, just the people that live out this way.

“Der she is!” he shouted. I turned to look and see what had him so excited. Inside the house, I saw a rather large woman walking around in what appeared to be a bedroom. She was without clothing. The word “large” was not a good description. If she was lying on the beach of an ocean, concerned citizens would start trying to roll her back into the water.

The woman appeared to be one big fold, lard everywhere.

Mule and Squiggy were getting to much enjoyment out of this.

“She does dis ever night bout dis time,” Mule informed me.

The woman looked in the mirror and raised her arms over her head and tried several poses that super models used. It didn’t help. I was afraid my stomach was going to revolt if we didn’t get going.

“Call her!” Mule shouted. He was excited and jumping up and down. Mule was hitting his head on the roof, not that it seemed to bother him

“Okay!” Squiggy said. He elbowed me in the arm. “Gimme yer phone!”

“No, use yours.”

“I cain’t. Sumthins wrong wif it. I cain’t git no reception.”

“I thought ya told me dat the phone company cut her off cus you ain’t paid yer bill?” Mule mentioned.

“Shut up, Mule!”

Mule would have started pouting again, if he wasn’t enjoying this.

“C’mon, lemme use yer phone!” Squiggy almost sounded desperate. I did not want my number showing up on her caller ID, but knew that the only way we were going to get out of here was to let him use my phone.

I reluctantly handed over my phone. The inventers of cell phones obviously never planned on them being used this way or they never would have made them.

Squiggy called the number and waited. Inside, the woman stopped her posing for a second, turned her head and walked off.

“Is she through?” Mule asked, acting too disappointed.

“Naw, ya idiot, she went to git the phone.”

“Okay!” Mule said, then remembered what Squiggy just said. “Squiggy, if you’n calls me anymore bad names tonight I’m gonna throw down.”

Squiggy waved his arms, wanting Mule to be quiet.

“Hey yeah, dis is Squiggy!” he practically hollered. “What? Naw, I’m usin a friend’s phone…Huh? Hang on, I’ll ast im. Did ya like de show?”

Squiggy covered up the mouth piece and waited for my reaction.

“Not really, I’m going to get sick,” I said.

He shook his head and put the phone back to his mouth. “He said you was a purdy filly!”

“I did not!”

“Can we’s come in?”

Mule was nodding his head and appeared to be drooling.

I started hitting Squiggy on the arm. “No! No! No!”

He turned to me and once again put his hand over the phone. “Dat hurt. Quit.”

“Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” Mule was practically floating in the air.

“What?” Squiggy said. “Tell im to come later! I don’t care if he is yer boyfriend…Naw, dis is yer only chance.”

He hung up the phone and sagged his shoulders.

“She’s got some guy comin over,” he announced.

“Good,” I said. They ignored me.

Mule looked heartbroken.

“Cain’t he come later?” he asked.

“It’ll be okay, Mule. I’m going to buy you some beer!”

He brightened up for a minute, but the need for some loving was more important than more beer.

We slowly drove around the big bend of the road and made it back on the highway. The highway patrolman had that other truck stopped, but there was no glee from Squiggy and Mule.

Squggy got back on the highway and drove off into the night. Right before we got into Hodgen, there was a car stopped in the middle of the road with its hazard lights on.

“Somethings wrong!” Mule said.

“You think?” Squiggy asked, rather sarcastic like.

He stopped behind the small white import. We climbed down from the truck and walked toward the car. The front end was badly damaged. Inside the car were a woman and a small boy. She was in her mid-30s. Her brown hair was all messed up and her glasses were tilted. The boy appeared to be about five, or so. He had long blonde hair, was skinny and also upset, almost frantic. The woman rolled down the window.

“You ran over Bambi!” he shouted.

“I didn’t mean to, Honey!” she shouted back.

Squiggy stuck his head in the window. “Did I hear sumthin bout youse hittin a deer?”

“Yeah, it was a small one.”

“Good, them’s better eatin!”

“What?” the boy asked. “You aren’t going to eat Bambi, are you?”

“No, we won’t eat Bambi,” I said, and turned around to make sure that message got through to Squiggy and Mule.

They were almost frantic now, like the boy, looking for the deer.

“Where is dat sucker?” Mule shouted.

“Lookie there!” Squiggy hollered. He started jumping up and down. “Git it, Mule!”

Mule walked over into the ditch and picked up the deer’s carcass. It was a mess, bloody and broken, not that it seemed to bother Mule.

The boy was having a fit. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna eat Bambi!”

“We’re not,” I tried to assure him. “Are we, Mule?”

“You might not but I plan on smokin and eatin im tomorrow night!”

“Deer meat’s better when theys young,” Squiggy added.

“They’re just kidding,” I said. “We’re going to go bury the deer at the cemetery.”

“Okay,” the little boy said. This seemed to calm him down.

I saw Mule load the deer into the back of the truck. He was not sad about missing out on visiting the large woman now, not when there was a deer to be gutted and cooked.

“Have you called the police?” I asked the woman.

“Yeah, they’re on the way.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, we were both wearing our seatbelts. The deer came out of nowhere! I tried to stop and…do you know that guy?”

“What guy?” I asked.

“The guy in that white truck?”

I turned and saw a truck approaching from the south, driving rather slowly.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Cause this is the third time he’s drove by since you guys arrived.”

The hairs on the back of my neck were rather alert. This wasn’t right. I could tell it was a newer truck, a fancy one bought by somebody who wanted to look the part but would never use this for work. The truck came toward us and stopped. The window was tinted so black that it was impossible to see inside.

Slowly the window started down. I could not see the face, just heard the voice.

“Get in, Hunt, we need to have a little talk.”

Chapter 50