Showing posts with label We Work for Cheese. Show all posts
Showing posts with label We Work for Cheese. Show all posts

Friday, February 28, 2014

Until We Meet Again...






Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty


If you are just now tuning in to 30-2 Days of Writing, you are 28 days too late! Good luck with all the reading you have to do to catch up. As much as this challenge is a pain in the ass, it is also a blessing. It makes me write which makes me right. So instead of cursing Nicky and Mike of We Work For Cheese like I did for the first 27 days of this challenge, I shall praise them today. Thanks guys for the swift kick in the ass. I needed that.

Now, my characters from this year would like to do a curtain call until next season. Can we hear a round of applause for the narrator, Cooter, Buck, Ethyl, Brother Bob, Sadie,Vera, Bobby Lee, Barbara Sue, Jorge, Gouda, Nacho and Velveeta.

They will be back. Bigger and better. Same place. Same station.


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Chapter Twenty-Two


Jorge and Gouda quickly settled into their wing of the Whiting Estate. They claimed one of the guest rooms for their bedroom and placed the the crib for the twins at the end of the bed. Vera had insisted that Jorge move one of the rocking chairs from the front porch into the room across the hall from their bedroom. Vera said that the sunny room would make a perfect nursery when the babies got a bit older.

Jorge was amazed that Gouda and Vera had become instantly bonded and he was feeling a bit of guilt about the way he had more or less blackmailed Vera to force her to allow them to move in her house. He tried to rationalize his actions based on the years he suffered abuse from his tyrannical boss, but his gut told him that he had not done the right thing. Jorge had rightfully earned his reputation as a good man with a big heart. He couldn't bear the thought of people thinking less of him. He had only spent one day in the house and he was already having trouble looking at himself in the mirror.

While Gouda and the twins slept peacefully on their first night in the house, Jorge found himself pacing the bedroom floor. His heart was telling him that he was the luckiest man in the world with Gouda and the babies about to become his family. He heart told him that he should provide his new family with the very best because they deserved it.  But his gut was telling him that he should quit imposing on Vera and  tell Gouda the truth. 

As he was pacing around the dark bedroom, he passed by the crib and leaned down close to check on the twins. His heart stopped beating when he saw that the crib held only one baby.  He lifted the covers. No second baby. He ran to the bed to see if Gouda had fallen asleep while nursing the baby, but he only found beautiful Gouda sleeping like an angel.  Jorge was in a  full blown panic.

Then he heard a small movement outside the door. He left his bedroom and saw a soft light coming from the room across the hall. He tiptoed to the light, observed for a brief moment and returned to his bedroom without a sound. 

Jorge quietly crawled back into his bed, took Gouda in his arms and whispered his prayer.

"Dios te salve, María. Llena eres de gracia: El Señor es contigo. Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres. Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amen."

Jorge quickly fell to sleep to the sound of the chair gently rocking as Vera quietly sang to the baby sleeping in her arms in the room across the hall.


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The next morning, Jorge returned to his normal routine of doing the chores around the Whiting Estate. When he finished with his household chores, he approached Vera to ask permission to go into town.  He found Vera and Gouda in the kitchen chopping vegetables, talking and laughing. The babies were propped up in their carriers watching all the activity in the kitchen. Jorge was taken aback. In all of his years working for Vera, he had never seen her cooking or laughing.

"Ms. Whiting, I need to run to town for a few minutes."

There was no reply. Vera and Gouda continued with their conversations about avocados.

"Ms. Whiting, I  hate to disturb you, but I need to go to town for a few minutes. Is that okay with you?"

Vera looked at Jorge with a confused look on her face.

"Of course, you can run into town. You don't have to ask me."

Jorge closed his eyes and opened them again to determine if he was dreaming, then he headed out the back door only to be interrupted by Gouda.

"You get your butt back in here and give me a good bye kiss! Don't you ever leave me without a kiss. Understand?"

Jorge cut his eyes toward Vera to make sure that she would not have a conniption fit.

"Jorge, kiss the girl! Oh, and while you are in town, would you pick up some tequila? We are making guacamole and want to make margaritas. Hurry home."

The last thing Jorge heard was Gouda asking Vera, "Oh, let's have a party! Who do you want to invite?"

Jorge felt lower than a gopher hole. He had to tell Vera the truth before the day was over.


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After making a quick stop at the liquor store to get a bottle of tequila, some limes and a bag of ice, Jorge walked into The Rack'n Roll Pool Hall to find Cooter. He needed to ask him if he, Gouda and the kids could move in with him at the Shangri-La-La-La Trailer Park. Before he had a chance to ask Cooter the big question, Buck called them over to the crowded bar. All eyes turned to Jorge as he approached. Bobby Lee hopped off of his stool and patted the seat indicating that he wanted Jorge to sit down. Buck opened a cold Lone Star longneck and pushed it over to Jorge. 

"Spill the beans, Jorge."

Everyone at the bar fell silent and leaned in to hear what Jorge had to say.

"About what, Buck?"

Everyone laughed.

"No. Seriously. What am I spilling the beans about?"

"C'mon, Jorge!  That woman has treated  you like a dog for years. Quit protecting her and tell us about what you saw at the crime scene at Brother Bob and Vera's den of iniquity."

Jorge looked at Buck with real sorrow in his eyes. "How did you find out?"

"How did I find out? The way everybody else in town found out. That bus full of school kids are still talking about Brother Bob flapping around in the road buck naked. Then he got on the bus and started screaming that he had killed Vera Whiting with his big one-eyed monster. He was covered in mud and blood and the kids were terrified that he was Big Foot. The school has had to call in counselors from all over the state to help those poor kids."

Jorge got up off his stool. He knew what he had to do. 

As he was running out of the pool hall, he heard Buck ask, "Is it true that you had to throw a bucket of cold water on them to get them unstuck?"



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When Jorge walked into Vera's house, he was greeted with the smell of freshly fried tortilla chips. Vera was tearing individual corn tortillas into four equal triangles as Gouda dropped them in bubbling, hot oil. A big bowl of guacamole sat waiting on the cabinet. Jorge deposited the items from the liquor store on the kitchen counter and asked Vera if he could talk to her in private.

"Jorge, anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of Gouda."

Jorge guided Vera from the room by placing his hand behind her back.

"Ms. Whiting, what we need to talk about does not have anything to do with Gouda. It's about you and me and it is very personal."

Vera walked no further than the dining room before she sat down in a chair. 

"Don't you want to go into the family room so we can talk more privately?"

"No, I don't, Jorge. This is far enough away. I can still hear the babies from here in case one of them needs me." 

In a low voice, Jorge recounted the story he had heard in the pool hall.  He expected Vera to fly into a rage and berate him for not taking Brother Bob directly to his house like she had instructed him. He expected that she would run to her room to hide in shame in for days. He was  a bit surprised when she did neither. He was more than surprised by what she said.

"So?" 

"Ms. Whiting, aren't you upset what people might be saying in town?"

Vera got up to head back to the kitchen. 

"Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."

Jorge stopped her and made her sit back down. 

"There is more I have to tell you, Ms. Whiting."  With his head hung in shame, Jorge confessed how he had taken advantage of her vulnerability and how bad he felt for forcing his way into her home.

"Can't say that I blame you for doing what you did, Jorge. I did act like a jackass for years."

"Well, I'm sorry, Ms. Whiting, and I'll be moving my family tomorrow."

Vera shot up out of her chair as fast as a scalded cat. 

"You will not! You and your little family are staying right here. I want you  here. And I'm paying for the wedding. No questions asked. Do you understand?"

Jorge felt his eyes watering up.

"Yes, Ms. Whiting. I understand."

"Just one more thing, Jorge. Just call me Vera."

Vera jumped up from the table when there was a knock at the back door.


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My brains had been scrambled since Cooter won the mayor's election. First I had to deal with the fact that I had a sister-in-law and her twins living right here in town. Then the next day I find out that she has plans to marry Jorge after knowing him for one night . I was having trouble dealing with so much change. I was pushed over the edge when Cooter came home and told me that Jorge, Gouda and the twins had moved in with Vera Whiting. That was it. It was officially too much. I wasn't sure if I knew the difference between "come here" and "sic 'em" at that point.  

I was looking in the paper for ads about houses for sale.  I was trying to let my brain rest when the phone rang.  It was Gouda.

"Girl, come on over to Vera's house. We're making guacamole and homemade chips. When you get here, we will whip up a pitcher of margaritas."

"Really? Is Vera out of town?"

Gouda laughed, "No, silly. Vera is standing right here cuttin' up some jalapenos."

"Are you telling me that Vera Whiting wants me to come to her house?"

"Yes, that is what I am telling you. Jump in the car and get over here."

"Do I need to put on some Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes?"

I heard Gouda repeat my question to Vera and they both laughed. Vera grabbed the phone.

"Just wear your flip flops and a smile. Come to the back door."

Cooter had taken my car over to City Hall, so I jumped in Genevieve and headed out in the country to the Whiting Estate. If I didn't look bad enough to start with, now my hair was a mess having been whipped around in the dust  that Genevieve kicked up while travelling down dirt roads. I had never been to the Whiting Estate before as a guest. I had driven by it plenty of times when I was a kid. I had always been amazed by the enormity of it all.  Before I left the Willys Jeep, I checked in the rear view mirror to make sure I didn't have any bugs in my teeth.

When I knocked on the back door, I was greeted by Gouda who was quickly followed by Vera and Jorge.  Gouda gave me one of her now famous bear hugs. I offered my hand to Vera.

"Thank you so much for inviting me to your lovely home, Ms. Whiting."

Vera pushed my hand away and put her arms around me.

"I want a hug too. And please call me Vera."

Jorge waved me in as he offered me the first margarita. The first of many.

We moved the babies, the guacamole and the pitcher of liquid gold to the family room where we sat and talked for hours. At first I was too shy to say anything in front of Vera, but with Vera's warmth and several margaritas under my belt, I found myself becoming comfortable. We all shared stories about our lives and eventually all ended up laughing about the adventures of Brother Bob.

When the twins started fussing, Gouda and Jorge left the room to put the babies in their crib. It was then that Vera offered to take me on a tour of her house. I was astounded at the size, the workmanship and the furnishings.  We walked from room to room with Vera telling me stories about family heirlooms and pointing out things she had collected while travelling around the world. I suppose I was showing my small town innocence that people actually lived in such luxurious places because Vera started chuckling a bit.

"I see that you are impressed by my home."

 "Oh, yes, Vera. This is the most beautiful house I have ever seen."

Vera took  my hands in hers and looked in my eyes.

"Well, I'm glad you like it because it will all by yours one day."

I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at her in total confusion.

"You see, I am your birth mother and Buck is your father."

And then my brain exploded.


























Thursday, February 6, 2014

Three Can Keep A Secret If Two Are Dead




Want to know a secret? It's time for 30-2 Days of Writing sponsored by Nicky and Mike at We Work For Cheese. Want to know something else? I suspect that Nicky and Mike secretly work for the alcoholic beverage industry. I think they get a bonus for every bottle we participants buy. We Work For Cheese my ass. They Work For Booze is more like it.
Anyway, head over HERE to read the works of the other participants.

My story today is the latest installment in a continuing story line. If you need to catch up, good luck!

Chapter One




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Since the tornado, Cooter had been as busy as a one-armed paper hanger. He had too many obligations in addition to volunteering with the clean-up efforts and running for mayor. Cooter couldn't focus on his work. He was making mistakes on the job and at home. His mind wasn't sharp. It wasn't like him to be so scatterbrained.  But most of all, Cooter was exhausted from the dangerous little game of cover-up that he had been playing.

Cooter thought he had it all under control until the tornado hit. He had been successful in keeping his little secret under wraps which was nothing short of a miracle in a town where everybody knew everybody else's business. 

Cooter's normal routine consisted of getting up at the break of dawn and pointing Genevieve in the direction of the No-D-Lay Cafe where he would eat a hearty breakfast with the rest of the rough necks in town. After a hard day of work on the rigs, Cooter always headed to The Rack'n Roll Pool Hall to unwind for a few hours before he made his nightly visit to Buck's house. Buck had reluctantly agreed to let Cooter use his old family home to hide away his little secret until the election was over. Buck spent most nights at Ethyl's house anyway.  After Cooter's nightly visit at Buck's house, he would head home to his honey at the Shangri-La-La-La Trailer Park.

But since the tornado, Cooter's routine was thrown off kilter. Cooter felt obligated to help the townspeople clean up the rubble and repair their homes. At the end of the workday, he no longer had free time. He showed up with his tool belt and worked on damaged houses until he was exhausted. His visit to Buck's house became quick stops. As hard as he tried, he couldn't get home early enough to keep the missus happy. He had even offered to buy her a house in order to save the marriage.

Cooter was at the breaking point. He was grateful that the election for mayor was about to happen. He didn't think he could keep his secret life secret much longer.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

The Day of Reckoning






I guess you know by now that many of my posts for 30-2 Days of Writing will be on a continuing theme. However, my continuing theme is carried over from last year's 30-2 Days of Writing, so newcomers may not know my characters and the continuing plot line. I am going to give newcomers a link to the old posts if they are interested in checking out the lives of Cooter and the gang. When I went back and reread the  posts, I became aware of some inconsistencies in the story line as the characters developed from post to post. I was very tempted to edit those mistakes, but decided to leave them as they were for now. 

So if you need to catch up, here you go. I hope I can tempt you to come back. Chapter by chapter. Day by day. I hope it never gets old for you.




Speaking of catching up, I shall now attempt to catch up with Day 4 and Day 5. 

If you are not too worn out after all this reading, be sure to go to We Work For Cheese and read the works of the other participants. They are much better than me. Really. They're all cheesy.
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Ethyl knew the day of reckoning would come. She just didn't know when. 

She was too busy to think about it as she and Buck had been busy putting The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall back together after the tornado. Luckily, most of the damage was broken glass and could be swept right out the door. Buck had loaded up the pink Philco refrigerator and returned it to Doris Upham. Ethyl was still perplexed how in the world Buck knew that the pink monstrosity belonged to Doris.  Buck did most of the repairs on the building himself. He didn't have to look far in either direction to find sheets of corrugated tin which Mother Nature had blown in his direction the  day of the big blow.  He patched the holes in the walls and roof with the tin while Ethyl tidied the interior of the pool hall.  The only major expense involved in the repairs was replacing the plate glass windows which had not survived the storm. Buck had called in help from Peeping Tom's Windows and Shades to replace the glass.  

Tom had been one of Buck's classmates in Ima Hogg High School and he had received his nickname of Peeping Tom for very good reasons. He knew everything that was going on in town. He spent his nights walking the sidewalks and alleys of the town. Tom was intrigued by the warm amber light escaping through open curtains. He was drawn to the light like the other flittering insects in the Texas nights.  More than one angry father had tried in vain to catch Tom in his nighttime antics, but Tom was fast. It was a common belief among his teammates on the IHHS Javelina track team that Tom's first place win in the state track contest had originated from all those nights of outrunning screaming fathers and outraged husbands in dark alleys.  As if his habit of window peeping wasn't bad enough, Tom had a loose tongue. He liked to tell his teammates all the secrets that he witnessed during his nightly visits. Peeping Tom saw it all and told it all. 

Ethyl received the phone call from Brother Bob at the First Baptist Church right after Tom replaced the windows in The Rack'n Roll Pool Hall. She was summoned to an emergency meeting with the Women's Prayer Circle in Brother Bob's office. Ethyl had not seen Brother Bob since she and Cooter had left him standing knee deep in quick sand in the Brazos River, so she was not real excited about attending the meeting, but she agreed to attend since she assumed the meeting was about helping the victims of the tornado.

Like the other members of the prayer circle, Ethyl arrived in her work clothes. The women were tired from cleaning up the tornado damage in their own homes, but they all agreed if their help was needed with the less fortunate in the community, they were willing to give their time to help. The women were chatting among themselves, speculating where their charitable work would take them, when Brother Bob walked in.

"Ladies, thank you for rushing over here for a very urgent matter which needs to be handled this very moment."

The women nodded their heads affirming that they were ready to charge to the rescue.

"Ladies, I know that you are all up to your armpits in cleaning up your damaged homes, but there is a home in this community more damaged than you can possibly imagine

The women joined hands to comfort each other as Brother Bob continued.

"Ladies. Ethyl Johnson is living in sin!"

Ethyl felt all the ladies eyes on her. She realized that the prayer members on both sides of her had suddenly let go of her hands.

"Ethyl Johnson is living in sin and she is not a spy at The Rack'n Roll Pool Hall. She is one of them!"

Ethyl looked around the room at the faces of her lifelong friends. She was pleasantly surprised to find that they were puzzled and not believing everything being said by the preacher.

"That's not all, ladies! I have heard from a good authority that Ethyl Johnson may be involved in a sexual relationship with a certain man who shall remain nameless."

A few of the women in the group snickered at that ridiculous thought. Ethyl knew that she had the women doubting the preacher's words now. It was time for her to stand up and take up for herself.

"Listen here, Brother Bob! What Buck and I do in the privacy of our own bedrooms is no business of yours!"

Ethyl quickly realized that she had let the cat out of the bag. There was a collective gasp in the room. Ethyl was surprised that there was any air left in the room at all. 

"Did you hear that, ladies? Did you hear it with your own ears? Did you just hear Ethyl Johnson confess?"

The prayer circle members nodded their heads in acknowledgement. 

"Ethyl Johnson, as pastor of this church, I demand that you resign from the FBC Prayer Circle . I demand that you leave this building and never return!"

Ethyl stood up and confronted her accuser.

"Brother Bob, I'll do that when hell freezes over."

As she slammed the door behind her, she heard a few of the women applauding. She assumed that the applause was for the pastor until she stopped and listened outside the door.

"Way to go, Ethyl!"  

"You go, girlfriend!"

"Buck? Really? Buck? That man is a stud."


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I had been worrying about Cooter. He just hadn't been acting right. There was just something wrong and I couldn't put my finger on it.  

Things had been going good with his campaign for mayor. Ethyl and her group of volunteers had plastered the town with signs and had been campaigning door to door. There had even been some ridiculous rumors floating around town that Cooter might have a chance to win the race. 

When the tornado hit town, Cooter was like a one man wrecking crew. He was all over town helping people. He didn't do it for the publicity. He just did it because he believes in helping others. He evidently had a good upbringing in his youth. Cooter never shared much of his earlier life with me. All I knew is that he came into town with that oil drilling company from Dallas and he was cuter than all get out. We fell in love, spent a drunken weekend in Juarez and came back married. That was enough for me. 

But since the tornado, I found myself pacing the floor in the single wide trailer we call home.  Since we got married, I've hinted to Cooter that I would like to live in a house, but he has never given into my requests. He seems attached to the Shangri-La-La-La Trailer Park and all it's glory. When the tornado spared our trailer, I was sure that Cooter would take it as a sign from above and never leave this place, but the opposite happened. A couple of days ago, Cooter announced that he wanted me to be happy and it was time to start house shopping.

That's not all that had me worried. Cooter started staying out later and later at night. I guess I was worried that Cooter might be paying me back for my little indiscretion with Bobby Lee, but he swore he wasn't. Besides, Cooter had been working so hard to win his mayor race, I didn't think he would do anything to hurt his chances.  I believed that until I found the item rolling around on the floorboard of  his beloved  Willys Jeep, Genevieve.

The empty bottle. The empty baby bottle.




Thursday, February 28, 2013

Adios, Motherscooters!





On the last two days of 30-2 Days of Writing, I find myself not being able to contribute the last two installments of my stories. It makes me so sad. I've hung in there for a whole friggin' month, but have to end without a bang. And, believe me, there haven't been many incidents where I didn't end with a bang. Get it? Never mind.

I want to thank Nicky and Mike of We Work for Cheese for making me, forcing me, threatening me inviting me to participate in this painful exciting writing extravaganza! I didn't want to do it because I have a lot going on in my pitiful life right now. But I jumped in with both feet because I love Nicky and Mike. And you know what happened? They awakened my creative side again. So those two are responsible for anything that happens in the next year. If I get arrested, sued or photographed in a compromising situation, it is their fault. Congratulations, Nicky and Mike! This is like being a God parent. You get to pay my fines, bail and lawyer's fees. 

I wanted to end 30-2 Days of Writing with a big ending. However, it is not gonna happen. I have spent the last two days on the road and will spend all day tomorrow at a funeral. 

So with that being said, the stress of not writing for two days has gotten to me and that's why I got drunk and leaves you with the question is that all

Do not fear. Cooter, Buck and Bobby Lee are in deep shit and will be back.

Now, go have a shot of Wild Turkey and a cold Lone Star Beer. 

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Sister Mary Pissed Off of the Immaculate Ass-Whuppin



If you haven't been reading my series of stories, this post may not make much sense to you. Maybe you want to catch up with my country fried tale? Of course you do. I'm not pressuring you or anything (but you better catch up). You can go back if you want (and you do) and read the first story HERE, the second story HERE, the third story HERE, the fourth story HERE, the fifth story HERE, stories six-ten HERE, the eleventh story HERE and the twelfth story HERE

I want to thank John Fugelsang for inspiring this segment of my chicken-fried series. 

Now, go read all the other participants' stories. We only have two more days! I don't know whether to shit or go blind. I think I'll just have a drink.

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Ethyl and Buck were trying to stay out of everybody's way. Buck had lined up the shot glasses on the bar and Ethyl had filled them all with generous shots of Wild Turkey. Buck left the bottle on the bar so that Cooter could help himself. He was probably going to need it. Buck guided Ethyl over to the table near the bar.

"Buck, I wanted to stay at the bar."

"This isn't our business, Ethyl."

"Then let's go check on my house and see if the twister left it standing."

"Naw. I think I ought to stay right here to help referee this crew. Cooter is pretty strong and he's had a pretty rough day."

Barbara Sue's mini van came to a screeching halt in front of The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall. She didn't even bother to close her car door as she ran through the front door. Her three young towhead boys were hanging out the window yelling at their mother. 

"Where is Bobby Lee?"

Buck stood up and met her at the door. He was taking his job as referee seriously. He didn't need any more damage done to his pool hall.

"He is gonna be okay, Barbara Sue."

"Let me see him."

Barbara Sue stopped short as she saw Bobby Lee squirming underneath the giant neon cross which had landed right on top of the pool table. 

"Bobby Lee!  Are  you alright?"

"Barbara Sue, get me out of here!"

"Buck, Cooter, help me get this cross off of him!"

Cooter motioned for Barbara Sue to join them at the bar. There was a  hushed conversation before Barbara Sue became very animated.

"He said WHAT?"

Then she walked back to her husband who was still underneath the heavy cross and stood staring at him in his ridiculous situation. Barbara Sue started laughing.

"Buck, you sure he's okay under there?"

"I think he is fine."

Bobby Lee started squirming frantically and started shouting.

"Buck, you son-of-a-bitch, get me out of here."

"He sounds fine, Buck. Just leave him where he is."

Barbara Sue walked back to the bar, grabbed a shot of Wild Turkey and sat down with the others  to join in the conversation.

Buck sat back down at the table with Ethyl. He had one eye on his woman and one eye on the group at the bar.

"Buck, I've been thinking..."

"Oh, shit."

"Don't say that, Buck. It's a good thing."

"The only time you think good thoughts, Ethyl, is late at night under the covers."

"I've been thinking that I want to become a nun."

"Oh, yeah? You know you can't have a sex life, right?"

"I'm not sure about that, Buck. Don't you read the papers? Priests seem to be a horny bunch."

"Ethyl,  you are a Baptist. You can't be a nun if you are a Baptist. You have to be Catholic."

"I don't know if you know this, Buck, but the glass ceiling has been broken. Women can be anything we want to be."

"But you have to be Catholic, Ethyl."

"I can convert."

"Why in the world do you want to be a nun?"

"I've been watching the news about the pope retiring and I think that a woman needs to be pope. I'm their woman."

"So what would you do if you were pope, Ethyl?"

"First of all, I would clean house. There would be no more single men running around in robes. Those men need to get some pants and get out in the real world."

"Well, I can't disagree with you on that one."

"Then I would round up all the child molesting priests and cut off their wienies."

"I think that might be against  the law, Ethyl."

"So is raping little boys."

"You have a point."

"Then I would turn the Vatican into a refuge for the poor and homeless."

"Oh, you are going to be real popular, Pope Ethyl."

"A church is supposed to help the poor and downtrodden. The Pope doesn't own the church just like Brother Bob doesn't own the First Baptist Church. You opened my eyes to that, Buck."

"What can I say? You are right, Ethyl."

"And all that gold, jewels and art is going to be sold for money to help people. Just think about it, Buck. The Catholic church is worth billions and billions of dollars. What if that money was spent on people in need?" 

"I hate to break the news to you, Ethyl, but I don't think a Baptist girl from Texas is going to be the next pope."

"Oh, I know that, Buck. I was just messin' with you. I just think those Catholics  need to consider a woman for pope. It sure couldn't  hurt."

At that moment, all hell broke loose at the bar.

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Barbara Sue, Cooter and I were having a calm conversation at the bar until Cooter started  blaming me for messing everything up. He did not understand that I was fed up with hearing the stories about me breaking Bobby Lee's heart. He couldn't understand why I would put my reputation and marriage on the line to teach Bobby Lee a lesson. Cooter just couldn't understand any of it.  Or he didn't want to.

Surprisingly enough, Barbara Sue totally understood my rationale. She was fed up with Bobby Lee's sad stories too.  She was not happy when Cooter pointed his finger at me and raised his voice.

"None of this bullshit would have happened if you hadn't agreed to go with Bobby Lee to that damn football field."

Barbara Sue stood up, grabbed my  hand and we stomped out of that pool hall. Barbara Sue unloaded all three of her boys out of the car, took them into the pool hall and sat them in and around Buck's lap. She grabbed Ethyl by the hand and led her out to the mini van to join us. Buck jumped up, scattering boys everywhere, and ran to the door.

"What are we supposed to do with these kids?"

As the mini van peeled out, Barbara Sue stuck her head out of the window.

"Deal with it!"




Monday, February 25, 2013

The Truth Will Set You Free. Or Will It?



The moment I heard the train coming, I knew I was in deep shit. You can't grow up in this part of Texas without experiencing tornadoes. In fact, my first memory in life centered around a tornado. I was only a year old when it happened, yet I clearly remember bits and pieces of that dreadful day. The tornado siren was wailing and the dark clouds were literally boiling overhead. My mother had me in her arms and she was running to a neighbor's yard to join the other women and children who were already safe in the storm cellar. We lived next door to  Barbara Sue and her mother was the self-appointed neighborhood tornado watch. Barbara Sue's mother was yelling for all the neighbors to run to the cellar. I remember my mother being scared which made me scared, so I was crying as I was carried  into the safety of the cellar.  Since it was the middle of the day, all the men were at work except for Roy, an elderly gentleman who had no children of his own. Roy mistook my cries  of fear for cries of  hunger and in hope of ending my crying, offered to get me a snack from his house across the street. All the woman begged Roy to stay in the cellar, but he would have none of it. He was going to be the man who was in charge of the neighborhood women. Several of the women stood outside and held the cellar door open so they could keep watch over Roy in his mission of mercy.  Just as Roy stepped off his porch with a small, red apple grasped firmly in his hand, a funnel dropped from the menacing cloud and touched down just yards from Roy. The women began screaming at Roy to run for his life. Roy reached the cellar just in time to slam the cellar door and grab the rope to anchor it shut as the freight train passed overhead. When the tornado had passed, Roy proudly walked down the steps to put the apple in my tiny hands. I never hear a tornado siren without thinking of Roy.

But this time there wasn't a tornado siren. The twister caught the town by surprise. Once I heard the freight train, I knew I had to get out of my trailer park. To say that trailers are tornado magnets would be an understatement. Cooter had left home earlier in the pickup truck, so my only means of escape was in Cooter's '47 Willys Jeep which he had converted into his hunting vehicle. Genevieve was the name he gave to his precious Willys Jeep. Although Genevieve was his pride and joy,  he never got a roof for her because Cooter claimed that he liked all his women topless. But I didn't have a choice. Top or no top, I had to get out of that trailer park.

It had already started raining so I grabbed a plastic WalMart bag and pulled it over my head as I jumped into Genevieve. I had gotten no further than the exit of the Shangri-La-La-La Trailer Park when the hail started. Neither Genevieve nor I needed more dents in our bodies, so we hauled ass down the dirt road looking for cover. We finally found shelter at the Washed in the Blood of the Lamb Church. I steered Genevieve under the awning which covered the old gasoline self-service area of the converted convenience store. Those neon crosses covering the old gas pumps were like beacons in the night guiding us to safety. The hail was pelting the old plastic awning so hard that I couldn't hear the sound of the freight train. When the baseball sized hail stones started falling and the plastic awning started breaking, I crawled under Genevieve for safety. It was at that very moment that the freight train arrived. I held on to Genevieve for dear life as the noise level became unbearable. I started praying to be saved when one of the neon crosses was ripped from the gas pump and flew through the air. Then just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. 

When I crawled out from underneath Genevieve, all I could think about was finding Cooter.  I had to make sure he was alive and well. I had no idea where to look for him, but decided that The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall was a good place to start. Genevieve and I slowly made our way down the street weaving around uprooted trees and downed power lines. My heart was pounding fast as I got close to the pool hall and saw a smashed pickup truck  lying greasy side up on the sidewalk in front of the pool hall. Then I saw my dog, Buster, limping around the truck. It was then that I realized that the crumpled piece of metal was my truck. I jumped out of Genevieve and ran to the truck to see if Cooter was trapped inside. I couldn't breathe until I saw the truck was empty. I walked around the truck to verify that it was mine. I was sure it was mine when I saw the bumper sticker.


Don't drink and drive...
You might hit a
bump & spill some.

I picked up Buster and held him in my arms. He was so scared that he was shaking like he was trying to shit a peach seed. I put Buster in Genevieve to calm down while I headed into the pool hall.

I was relieved to see that the pool hall was in relatively good shape. There was broken glass and debris laying everywhere and, oddly enough, an old, pink icebox was sitting in the middle of the room, but the pool hall was intact. My eyes were trying to see through the dust hanging in the air when I saw Buck and Ethyl standing by a pool table in the corner with their heads hung as though in prayer. I felt as though my heart had stopped beating as I approached the pool table and saw the giant, neon cross from Washed in the Blood of the Lamb Church laying on top of a person. All I could see were fingertips and the toes of a pair of cowboy boots. My knees buckled. I looked at Buck and Ethyl.

"Cooter?"

"No. Bobby Lee."

A flood of relief washed over me followed by an intense feeling of guilt. Cooter wasn't crushed under the cross, but the man who was under the cross had been the object of my recent revenge. I approached the pool table.

"Bobby Lee, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I shouldn't have run to Barbara Sue to tell her what happened. I'm so sorry I threw you out of the truck. I shouldn't have gone with you to the football field in the first place. But if you will come back, Bobby Lee, if you will come back...I will go back to the football field with you. Please come back, Bobby Lee."

"Will you put out this time?"

I almost peed my pants when Bobby Lee spoke and the cross started to move.

"You sorry son-of-a-bitch!"

I turned on my heels to storm out of the pool hall when Buck stopped me. He put his arm around me and spoke in a fatherly tone.

"Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves."

When Buck said those words, I realized that he knew what I had done. I was humiliated and scared. I started crying and heading toward the door while Ethyl started questioning Buck.

"Buck, did you just make that up?"

"No. Confucius made that up."

"How do you know that, Buck?  I don't ever remember studying Confucius at Ima Hogg High School."

"I know more than you could ever possibly imagine, Ethyl."

"Did you read that in Reader's Digest, Buck?"

I had almost reached the front door when I heard a noise that made my heart stand still.

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"Get back in here."

I froze. It was Cooter's voice. I hadn't seen Cooter.  I turned around and saw him getting up from his sitting position on the floor in the corner.  I ran to him and helped him up.

"Oh, my gosh! Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?"

"Not physically."

It was then that I realized that Cooter had heard my conversation with Bobby Lee.

"Come on, Cooter. Let me take you home. I have Genevieve outside."

"No. I want us to stay here and make sure Bobby Lee is alright. We were having a real interesting conversation right before the tornado hit. If he feels up to it, I would like for him to finish his story." 

"Cooter, you have been through a real traumatic experience. I think you probably need a drink and a nap. Let's go."

"A drink sounds like a good idea. Hey, Buck, if a bottle of Wild Turkey survived that big blow, pour us all a shot. Hell, pour Bobby Lee two."  

Cooter started picking up overturned bar stools and setting them upright at the bar as Buck lined up the shot glasses.

"Baby, why don't you call Barbara Sue and have her get over here. She needs to see Bobby Lee before we get that cross off of him. She might find some humor in all of this."

Cooter handed me his cell phone as he sat on a stool, patted the stool next to him and knocked back a shot of Wild Turkey.

"C'mon, baby. Come sit down and tell me your side of the story. Just don't make the mistake of making me wonder if it's fact or fiction."

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Indigo threatened me if I skipped a day on my story entry, but it's like this, Blue Man...
there was this big bucket of ice cold beer and big tray of spicy, steaming mud bugs that came between me and my computer. You understand, right? Do you have crawfish in the UK? One of the benefits of living in the South.

So here I am catching up once again. What a surprise. Would anyone be shocked to know that I'm not good at deadlines? Oh, well. I'm determined to catch up on all my comments tonight. You are not really expecting that though, are you?

If you haven't been following the saga of Cheesy Mike's friends, Cooter and the gang, you need to do so. When you get through reading, go over to We Work For Cheese and read today's stories from the other participants of 30-2 Days of Writing. You won't be sorry.