Moonlight Hollow

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Will This Party Never End?

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

It's Day 20 of 30-2 Days of Writing. I feel like doing a cartwheel. Wait. I don't do cartwheels. How about I just say whoopee? Whoopee! There. That's over.

In my usual fashion, I am late and have included three writing prompts in my story today. I have to admit that it is hard for me to quit writing once I get started. I have to make myself stop. I know you people didn't sign up to read a novelette every night. I apologize. Not really.

So, if you've just joined us, you are damned late. Go to the office and get a tardy slip. Sorry. Old habits die hard. After you get your tardy slip, open your computer to We Work For Cheese and read your daily assignment. Make comments at the end of each reading passage. Does everyone understand? Get your hands down. You should have listened the first time.

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Vera Whiting watched the beating of Brother Bob in complete silence. She was crushed. Totally defeated. First the election and now the rejection by the love of her life, Buck. Once Cooter had pulled Gouda off of the whimpering preacher, Vera marched over to Brother Bob and kicked him in the side.

"Get up, Bob. It's over. Everything is over."

The badly beaten preacher got half way up before he collapsed into a pitiful pile back on the floor. She kicked him again.

"Get up! I mean it. I'll have Jorge drop you off at your house."

Vera walked to the Cadillac and Brother Bob stumbled along behind her. It was then that Vera realized that Jorge was not in the waiting car. She began to scream his name.

"Jorge! Jorge, where are you?"

There was no answer nor was there a sign of where Jorge might be.

"Jorge, you get in this car right now or I'm gonna fire your ass!"

Silence.

"Get in the damn car, Bob. Looks like I'm driving."

Brother Bob looked at her pitifully.

"How does it feel to eat crow, Bob?"

Brother Bob laid his head against the seat and closed his eyes.

"Tastes like chicken."

And with those words, Vera pushed the accelerator to the floorboard of the Cadillac and left a cloud of dust behind her as she speed away from The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall.

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Cooter was holding the blonde woman in his arms to try to settle her down. He motioned for me to join them.

"Gouda, this is my wife."

I looked at her with fire in my eyes. She returned my hateful glare with a big smile.

"And this is my sister, Gouda."

Gouda grabbed me and hugged me tight. She was a strong woman. My mind was reeling. I had never met any of Cooter's family. I've heard plenty of stories about the rowdy herd of kids, but I had never seen photos or seen any of them in person. But as I looked at Gouda, I could see the family resemblance. And judging by her strength, this young blonde woman had handled many a bale of hay and worked in the fields right along side her brothers. But how could I be sure that this attractive woman was actually Cooter's sister? From my experience with men, I knew that most of them were liars.

"I don't understand this whole thing. Why is Gouda here? Why did Brother Bob bring her in like that? Why did he call her your harlot? Can someone please explain what is going on?"

Cooter kicked the toe of his boot against the wooden floorboards a few times while he was trying to figure out where to start with his story.

"It's like this. Gouda got kicked out of my parents' house and she didn't have a place to go."

"Why did she get kicked out?"

Gouda jumped in with her loud country voice. "Because I got knocked up."

I expected to hear judgmental remarks and clicking tongues, but to my surprise, most of the townspeople just chuckled and remarked how times have changed. This beautiful, country girl seemed to be winning people over with her innocent charm.

"But that's not the real reason that they kicked me out. They kicked me out because the babies' daddy is a Mexican."

From the corner of the room, Jorge spoke up. "Don't know what's wrong with that. Some of my best friends are Mexican."

I spoke up. "Jorge, Vera is looking for you. If she finds out you are in this pool hall, she might just have a coronary."

Jorge's response got a big laugh from the crowd.

"A man can dream, can't he?"

Bobby Lee nosed in our conversation so that he could get a better look at Gouda. I saw him looking her over with those roving eyes of his.

"Forget it, Bobby Lee. You know what Barbara Sue would do to you."

Bobby Lee shot me a drop dead look and continued to get closer to Gouda as he started up a conversation.

"Gouda, did your parents really kick you out of the house for marrying a Mexican?"

"Oh, we weren't married. And they weren't mad because he is Mexican, they were mad because he is from Mexico and was here illegally. The priest over at the Sacred Lone Star Church of the Immaculate Conception had him smuggled in to Muenster to do the yard work around the church. My daddy said I wasn't going to be married to no foreigner. The next thing I know, the green US Border Patrol van pulled up at the church and hauled Pedro away."

Bobby Lee moved in for the kill.

"That is so sad, Gouda. Do you need a hug?"

Cooter stepped in between them. Gouda continued telling her story to her rapt audience.

"They took away Pedro, but they can't take his babies!"

Gouda rescued the babies from the arms of the woman she had handed them to.

"Everybody, I want you to meet my beautiful twin babies."

The crowd oohed and aahed and pushed closer to see. Gouda was pleased with her acceptance.

"In keeping with traditions, I gave the babies names like mine, but with a Mexican twist.
So, without further ado, y'all meet Nacho and Velveeta."

People started laughing and clambering to hold the babies. I looked at Cooter and he just shrugged his shoulders. I wasn't through with him. He had a lot of explaining to do. But before I had a chance to ask another question, chaos broke out over at the bar.

I turned to look. Buck had his hands full of an angry Ethyl. She was none too pleased about the kissing incident with Vera. Ethyl was talking too fast for Buck to get a word in sideways. Her arms were flapping around like wings as she talked. In her state of rage, bar stools were flying. I saw a couple of the ladies from the FBC Prayer Circle join hands and start praying for her.

Monday, February 17, 2014

Hell Is Empty and All the Devils Are Here

Chapter One

Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen

Oh, another marvelous catch-up day! Three prompts, three prompts, three prompts in one. Double mint, double mint, oh never mind.

The election is over, but I think the excitement is just beginning. Hope you enjoy! If you aren't too pooped after you read my post, head over to We Work For Cheese and read the other talented participants' stories.

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Bobby Lee ran in The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall totally out of breath.

"It's over."

The drinking stopped. Deviled eggs came to a screeching halt just inches from waiting mouths. The band quit playing in mid-song. All eyes turned to Bobby Lee.

"It's over, Cooter."

Cooter grabbed a cold Lone Star and handed it to Bobby Lee.

"It's okay, Bobby Lee. I knew I didn't have a chance in hell against Vera Whiting."

Bobby Lee broke into a big grin and started shouting.

"You won, Cooter! You won! Brother Bob is foaming at the mouth and Vera Whiting tucked her tail and ran. You won!"

Cooter scanned the room with his eyes until he saw me. He started making his way over to me. I was just as proud as could be. Cooter did it. He actually won. And now I would be known as the mayor's wife and not as the woman who broke Bobby Lee's heart.

Somebody in the crowd started chanting Cooter's name. Pretty soon, the whole party joined in the chant until the noise was almost deafening.

"Cooter! Cooter! Cooter!"

Suddenly, Dr. Butts and the Hemorrhoids started playing Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead and the crowd broke out in laughter. Some of the party goers even burst out in song. Ethyl grabbed Cooter and they started dancing right in the middle of the pool hall while people were laughing, clapping and cheering.

My ears were ringing from the rowdy festivities when I heard a car coming to a screeching halt right in front of the pool hall. I guess no one else noticed because they kept right on singing.

"Ding dong, the witch is dead.

Which old witch?

The wicked witch!

Ding dong, the wicked witch is dead."

The front door of the pool hall was thrown open and there stood Vera Whiting.

It took a while for everyone to notice the newcomer. Those around the front door suddenly fell silent and I felt as though I was watching a wave of reckoning wash over the celebration. Finally everybody stopped in place and all eyes turned toward the front door.

Vera Whiting did not glance at any of them, nor did she even pretend to notice that they were in the room at all. She walked straight to the bar, sat on a stool and motioned for Buck. He hesitantly obliged. When Buck was right in front of her, she grabbed him around the neck and kissed him with all the passion she had been keeping bottled up inside her.

There was a gasp in the silent pool hall. I couldn't move. I was riveted to the spot. My eyes sought out Ethyl and I was happy to see that Cooter was holding her by the arms to prevent an ugly scene.

Buck unlocked Vera's arms from around his neck, pulled away from her and addressed her in his best Shakespearean English.

"A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age."

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Vera Whiting had been raised in a bubble. Her parents and grandparents wanted the very best for the only child who would carry on their lineage. They certainly didn't want her to attend a public school where she might meet a common boy and fall in love. She was shipped off to the best boarding schools each year. Although Vera was allowed to come home during the summer, she was never allowed to socialize with the town's children. For Vera, there were no tea parties, no games of red rover, no neighborhood games of hide and seek and in her later years there were no phone calls, no dates, no proms, and no one with whom to share secrets. There were no secrets.

However, in the summer of her 16th year, Vera had taken her mother's convertible out on one of her lonely rides around the countryside. She had to endure the usual lectures about keeping the head scarf on her head to prevent ear aches and about not talking to anyone while on her outing.

Vera liked to drive on the dirt roads on the outskirts of town. Going into town and seeing other teenagers only made her more hungry for companionship. She had just stopped at a stop sign on what she thought was a deserted road when she heard rumbling mufflers approaching. She glanced in her rear view mirror and saw a black and turquoise Chevy El Camino driven by a handsome young man. Before she knew it, the El Camino was right beside her on the road and the young man was speaking to her. Following her mother's directions, she remained face forward while ignoring the driver.

"Hey, Stella, you ready for some action?"

Vera was startled that the boy had called her mother's name. She turned to look at him and lost her breath. It was love at first sight.

"You must have me confused with my mother. I'm Vera. I just took mom's car out for a drive because it is such a pretty night. How do you know my mother?"

Buck stammered for a while before he thought of a logical explanation.

"Well, you see. I'm a bookie. You mom likes to play the horses and I place the bets for her. But you must never mention this. Ever. Your mother would be in trouble and I would get arrested. So this is going to be our little secret."

Vera blushed at the idea that someone wanted to share a secret with her. She would take that secret to her grave. She would be the best secret keeper ever.

As the summer progressed, Vera had many more secrets to keep. She and Buck made nightly rendezvous on dirt roads all over the county. Buck trusted Vera with his secret and she trusted him with her virginity. Of course, Buck's secret was not real and Vera's virginity became fictional before the summer was over.

Vera felt alive for the first time in her life. She was in love and nothing could change that. Nothing could change it until Stella got involved. Stella was still stinging from being dumped by her plaything, Buck. How dare he dump someone of her caliber! When Vera's occasional outings in the car became a nightly ritual, Stella became alarmed. One night, she followed Vera and discovered who had stolen her affection from Buck.

The next morning, Vera was shipped off to a year round boarding school. There would be no more visits home. In fact, Vera did not return home until after her parents had died. She couldn't stand their scrutiny. She led a life devoid of pleasure as she had been raised to do. She had grown used to the idea of dying alone. Then one day when Jorge was driving her to town, they passed by the pool hall and she made an trivial comment.

"Jorge, when I was young, that pool hall was Cool Breeze's Domino Parlor and I had a very special friend who liked to go there."

"I remember, Ms. Whiting. After Cool Breeze died, it sat there empty for a long time until Buck came back to town."

Vera caught her breath and she wasn't sure she had breathed again since hearing those words.

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Vera was standing perfectly still and looking at Buck in disbelief. She had just turned to go when there was big disturbance at the front door.

Brother Bob had entered the pool hall and he was pushing a beautiful, young, blonde woman in front of him. She was sobbing and holding two small babies, one in each arm. Her head was down in shame. He began shouting in his righteous voice.

"Let's see how long Cooter is your mayor when you see his dirty little secret!"

All eyes went to Cooter and then all eyes turned to me. As much as I wanted to scream, I understood that I was now the mayor's wife so I faked it. I smiled. It was a weak smile, but it was a smile. I was trying to hold myself together in front of all these people. I hated for them to witness the assassination of their newly elected mayor. Or castration. Maybe that would be better. My smile became stronger.

People were very uncomfortable. Some of them were looking at their feet. Others were looking at Cooter for an explanation. The women of the FBC prayer circle were trying to hide behind others so that Brother Bob's eyes would not fall on them.

Brother Bob could see Cooter's popularity melting away right before his eyes.

"I warned you people about Cooter and this pool hall. But did you listen?"

Cooter was looking at me shaking his head and then he addressed the crowd.

"There is a perfectly good explanation for this..."

Before Cooter could get out another word, Brother Bob started shouting louder.

"Here is the proof, people! Who are you gonna believe? Are you going to believe the lies that spew from Satan's lips? Look at the real life evidence I brought you. Look with your own eyes at Cooter's harlot and bastard children!"

Before I could get to Cooter, the blonde woman handed her children off to a woman standing close by. Then she turned and knocked the holy hell out of Brother Bob. When he went down, she jumped on top of him and kept swinging. His face was a bloody mess. I was about to do the same thing to Cooter when he yelled out to the young woman.

"Gouda, stop!"

Friday, February 14, 2014

Pass Me a Deviled Egg and Cold Lone Star

Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen

Happy Valentine's Day to everyone. I will always remember the high school student who made a wooden plaque for me in woodshop class. He saved a bit of wood by abbreviating the words, Valentine's Day. He proudly brought me the plaque to hang on the wall of my classroom. I tried to keep a straight face as I held it up and shared it with the rest of the class. The plaque simply said, HAPPY VD.

He wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Speaking of sharp knives, keep them away from the participants of 30-2 Days of Writing. We are all getting a bit desperate these days. We are not to be trusted. Don't believe me? Just go to We Work For Cheese and check out the stories of the other happy campers.

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The mayor elections were held in the City Hall which was located in the old, original Whiting National Bank building. When Cooter went in to vote, he had to grin at the irony of the word Whiting chiseled into the granite door surround. He felt it was an omen as to how this election would turn out. His opponent was a pillar in the community. It was her town. It was her building. It was her election.

People filed into City Hall all day to mark their paper ballots with pencils stamped with the words Courtesy of Whiting National Bank, Your Hometown Choice. The voter turnout was larger than expected. The townspeople patiently waited in line for their turn to to enter the curtained cubicle. The voters were unusually quiet with no chit chat to promote their candidate of choice. The only excitement of the day was when Vera Whiting made her entry into City Hall. Jorge had driven her to the polling place in her freshly washed Cadillac. When he parked in front of City Hall, he quickly jumped out of the car to open the door for Vera. After helping her from the car, Jorge began to walk into the building with her when she suddenly stopped.

"Where are you going, Jorge?"

"I'm going in to vote, Ms. Whiting."

Vera looked at Jorge as though he had slapped her.

"You most certainly are not going to vote right now. You are on the clock, Jorge. Vote on your own time."

Jorge returned to the car while Vera stopped to admire the beauty of her name scrawled across the doorway.

When she entered City Hall, she walked right past the people waiting in line and walked to the front of the line. She considered it her right. She never waited in line for anything. She paid people to do that. After she had voted, she exited the building with little regal waves to the people still waiting to vote and made her way to the exit where Jorge was holding the glass door open for her.

When the polling place closed, the doors to City Hall were locked and a big chalkboard was rolled into the front window. As ballot boxes were emptied and votes were counted, Sadie Sprinkle would hobble over to the chalkboard and post updated election numbers. Sadie was 83 years old and hadn't missed working an election since she buried her husband fifty years ago. Sadie could barely walk, but that didn't stop her from puttering back and forth from the ballot boxes to the chalk scoreboard. Sadie could hardly see and she wore the same pair of coke bottle glasses that she bought in 1957. She was hard of hearing and wore a hearing aide that squealed at the most inopportune times. Sadie had long ago lost what sense of humor she may have had. She was tired and cranky and often mumbled and cursed as she walked. Sadie had long ago declared herself the electoral committee queen and nobody would dare try to take that Whiting National Bank pencil from atop her ear. She took election day seriously and there was no room for mistakes around Sadie Sprinkle.

Most of Cooter's supporters were already gathering at The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall. Buck was busy icing down Lone Star longnecks while Ethyl was in charge of arranging the food on the pool tables which had carefully been covered with blue tarps. The local bar-b-que champs, Tate and Bobber, had set up their pits outside and the smell of brisket cooking on an open fire was filling the pool hall. Ethyl was tickled to see a whole group of women from the FBC prayer circle bring in plates of deviled eggs and bowls of lime green jello salad. Cooter was greeting people at the door and shaking hands. A lot of those hands belonged to people who had never been in The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall.

Bobby Lee had volunteered to be the runner between the City Hall and the pool hall. He had stationed himself in a lawn chair outside the big window so he could watch as the vote tally was posted on the chalkboard. When a new vote total was posted, Bobby Lee would run to the pool hall and announce the standings.

"Vera Whiting, 232. Cooter, 199."

Then he would run back to the City Hall before Brother Bob took over his lawn chair. Brother Bob was there in the official capacity as Vera Whiting's runner. Vera sat in her Cadillac and ordered Jorge to turn the air-conditioner up or down or change the direction of the vent or change the radio station. She never seemed to be happy if she wasn't barking orders. From time to time, Brother Bob would knock on the car window and Vera would instruct Jorge to lower the window. Brother Bob would announce the standings in a very reverent voice.

"Vera Whiting, 232. Cooter, 199."

Then without response to her adoring pastor, Vera would instruct Jorge to raise her window.

"Roll up the window, Jorge. There is enough hot air out there without that idiot, Brother Bob, breathing into the car."

It went on like that for hours. Bobby Lee running to the pool hall and Brother Bob running to the car. The music from The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall got louder and louder while the traffic to the pool hall got heavier and heavier. There was a celebration going on even before the results of the election were announced.

Brother Bob was watching Sadie slowly erase the totals one number at a time. He was really getting annoyed at the jovial festivities over at the pool hall. He had even seen one of his deacons walking in that direction. He watched Sadie slowly scrawl the words FINAL SCORES. Sadie saw him with his face pushed up against the window. She didn't like him. Never had. Never would. She tormented him by writing each number slowly. He was fogging up the window with his heavy breathing. She wanted to walk over and and thump the window glass. As she finished with her writing, Brother Bob started jumping up and down and hollering. He knocked on the window and pointed at the chalkboard. Sadie couldn't take it anymore.

"Don't mess with me, you smart ass punk preacher!"

Brother Bob ran to the car and started banging on the car window with his fists. Vera rolled her eyes and instructed Jorge to roll down her window.

"It has to be aliens! It has to be," Brother Bob was shouting.

"What in hell are you talking about, Bob?" She was not amused by his antics.

"The score! It has to be the aliens! Didn't you see that big group of Mexicans walk in to vote at the last minute?" Brother Bob was indignant.

"Are you talking about illegal aliens, Bob? You are such an ignorant dufus!"

Jorge could no longer hold his tongue. "Brother Bob, those men are not illegal aliens. They have lived in this town longer than you have. And they are not Mexicans. They were born right here. They are Texans."

"Roll the window up, Jorge, and take me home. Drive by The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall on the way. There is someone there I need to see."

It took Sadie a good ten minutes to find the chalk and figure out the numbers scribbled on the paper in her hands.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

It's Time To Cast Your Ballot

Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen

There are so many good stories being written at the 30-2 Days of Writing event this year! You must go check them out at We Work For Cheese. What else do you have to do during these cold, wintry days?

If you are new to my blog, you can catch up on Cooter and the gang by reading the "chapters" listed above. Kick back, relax, enjoy!

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Cooter was feeling pretty good about the election. The last posters had been hung. Ethyl and her group of volunteers had knocked on every door in town. Some of them twice. Cooter wasn't sure he could shake another hand or kiss another baby. Truth be known, he was pretty sick of babies right now.

Buck and Ethyl were hosting Cooter's election night party at The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall. As election day drew near, Buck hung red, white and blue bunting outside the pool hall and strung multi-colored Christmas lights in patterns on the roof to spell out Cooter's name. Inside, Ethyl and her volunteers spent hours draping crepe paper streamers across the ceiling and hanging mirrored disco balls from the rafters. Buck had dug out some of the old black lights he had from his high school days and had placed them around the room. Ethyl had her crew glittering everything in sight which did not thrill Buck one little bit.

Since they were hoping for a big crowd of supporters, Ethyl sent a couple of volunteers over to the First Baptist Church Activity Center to borrow some extra fold-up chairs for the big event. However, the volunteers were greeted by an agitated Brother Bob who informed them that his chairs would not be attending any event at the pool hall and, furthermore, he would be hosting the election party for Cooter's political opponent, Vera Whiting, at the church's activity center.

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Vera Whiting was hometown stock. Her great grandparents had built the first bank in town and Vera still ruled the bank board. Vera belonged to every woman's club in town. She very seldom attended a meeting nor socialized with any townspeople, but she knew how to pull out her checkbook when necessary. Vera didn't have an election committee because she knew she didn't need one. This was her town and her name was her ticket to being elected. Vera had balked when Brother Bob offered to host her election party at the church activity center. She had no intentions of celebrating her win with anybody much less with a gaggle of common hens sipping punch and slipping cookies into their purses. But she remembered that her grandfather had always told to her be nice to the little people. Vera always attended church on Christmas Sunday where she would place her yearly tithing check in the pastor's hand. If Brother Bob ever suspected that her love offering was carefully based on the amount of tax deduction she needed at the end of the year, he never showed it. Vera grudgingly decided that a few minutes with admiring townspeople would not kill her, so she agreed to attend the election party.

Cooter had met Vera quite by accident when he first arrived in town. He was working on a drilling site in one of the Whiting's pastures when he saw a Cadillac covered in dust racing down the rutted dirt road toward the rig. When the car skidded to a stop only feet from him, Vera stuck her hand out the car window and beckoned Cooter to her car.

"I'm Vera Whiting and I need help at the main house immediately."

Cooter jumped in the car and grasped the car handle as Vera drove like a bat out of hell toward the house. He jumped out of the car breathlessly when they arrived at the house.

"Where do I need to go, mam? Where is your emergency?"

Vera stepped out of the car in no hurry. She pulled off her leather driving gloves.

"Take out my trash, young man. It's by the kitchen door. You'll find the dumpster out in the field by the side of the house."

Cooter stopped in his tracks.

"You need me to take out the trash? That is your emergency?"

Vera walked by Cooter on the way to the house.

"Yes. Jorge didn't show up for work today. He fell off the ladder yesterday while he was
dusting the chandelier in the dining room. I don't care if he's been with me for 20 years, if Jorge doesn't show up tomorrow, I will have to let him go." She turned and dismissively waved Cooter off.

"And when you are finished with the trash, you can walk back to the rig."

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Cooter laughed when he heard about Brother Bob hosting his opponent's election night party. He knew that Vera Whiting would probably have Brother Bob emptying trash and washing her car.

Cooter had every intention of enjoying every minute of his election night party. Win or lose. Buck and Ethyl had planned a welcoming, festive event. Buck had even managed to book the town's proctologist and his weekend band, Dr. Butts and the Hemorrhoids, to play for the party. Cooter wasn't sure if he was going to win the title of mayor, but he was sure that he was going to have a good time on election night.

His wife was happy with house shopping. The campaigning was almost over. The election night festivities were under control. Now if he could just keep his secret held incommunicado.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Shelter From The Storm With An Order of Fries

Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen

Where have I been, you ask. What? You didn't even notice I was gone? Sigh. For those of you who don't know my ongoing real life story, I have my house on the market so I can move on and start a new chapter in my life. We got a sudden offer on the house, but one condition is that they would need to take ownership in two weeks. Yikes! So after much scurrying around in panic, the deal fell through. All for naught. So I have tried to catch up without making you read six pages of posts. You will notice that the last portion of my post includes five prompts. Yes. Five. But I'm caught up and it feels good.

If you don't know the continuing story of Cooter and the gang, you can catch up by reading the above posts. Cliff Notes are available for $29.95. I'm taking orders now.

If you would like to read the submissions by the other participants of 30-2 Days of Writing who have been keeping up like good boys and girls, go to We Work For Cheese and read to your heart's content.

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Brother Bob took to the pulpit with a vengeance. Cooter and Ethyl had tried their best to make him look foolish, but he was determined to expose them for the evil doers they were.

Those church members in attendance on the Sunday before the mayoral election were on the receiving end of a hell fire and brimstone sermon about sin, alcohol, fornication, pool halls and elected leaders.

Brother Bob spared no words on that hot, sunny Sunday morning. With sweat running down his face, he ranted and raved, pointed fingers and beat his fists upon the pulpit. Those in attendance at the First Baptist Church squirmed in their seats and tried not to make eye contact with Brother Bob. This type of preaching had never been heard in their church. They had come to the service to share in worship and practice brotherly love. A few of the church goers were fanning themselves with their church bulletins and contemplating moving their memberships to the United Methodist Church.

At the time church would normally have been ending, Brother Bob was just getting wound up. The crowd was getting restless. Stomachs were growling. Children were beginning to kick the seats in front of them. Husbands were looking at their wives in desperate fashion. Almost everyone in town ate at the No-D-Lay Cafe after church on Sunday. There was a competition among the multiple churches to dismiss the earliest so that their church members could get seated at the cafe first. Now with thoughts of chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy running through their heads, a few of the fathers in the congregation took their children's hands and headed to the door as though they were taking their children to the bathroom. What they were actually doing was getting in the car and starting it up to make a quick escape to the No-D-Lay Cafe when mother showed up at the car.

Sensing that he was losing his audience, Brother Bob began to talk louder and faster. He escalated his sermon by screaming about how the devil had arrived in their town. He talked about the devil drinking beer and playing pool at The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall. He even told a wild story about how the devil had tried to drown him in the Brazos River. He ended his sermon by raising his hands in the air as he shouted.

"The devil is living among us and he is not using the name of Beelzebub. He calls himself Cooter!"

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Cooter was sitting on a stool at the front counter at the No-D-Lay Cafe finishing up his meal of enchiladas and french fries when the church crowd starting pouring into the cafe racing for their favorite tables and red naugahyde booths. Most everyone spoke to Cooter as they filed in past him. Some of the men patted him on the back and congratulated him on the upcoming election. Many of the women fluttered their eyelashes and promised to vote for him. When the church goers from the FBC arrived unusually late, the cafe was full of Methodists and Church of Christ and they were forced to wait in line while those dining glanced up and laughed at their late arrival. The Baptists were hungry and were in no mood to be messed with.

Cooter turned on his stool to check out the crowd waiting in line. He had just raised his hand to wave when one of the waiting children recoiled in fear.

"Look, Mommy! There is the devil and his name is Cooter!"

A few mothers pulled their children closer to them, while others rolled their eyes at the dramatic mothers and waved back at Cooter. A few of the men approached Cooter and recounted the sermon delivered by Brother Bob before returning to stand in line with their waiting families.

Cooter thought about what he had been told for a few minutes as he drug a french fry potato through the grease left on his empty plate. He paid his bill, talked to the owner of the cafe for a few minutes and stopped before the group of Baptists waiting in line.

"I hear that y'all had a very exciting sermon this morning."

People nodded their heads and grinned. Some people even laughed out loud.

"I find it strange that someone, whose name I won't mention. but whose name starts with BB, hint hint, chose to call me the devil right before the mayor's election. Well, I don't believe in mixing politics with religion and I don't believe in saying negative things about other people. Most of all, I don't believe in out and out lying. Do you?"

The crowd became more animated in agreeing with Cooter.

"I can't promise you a chicken in every pot, but I can promise you a chicken fried steak today. Dinner is on me! Chicken fried steak for everyone!"

Cooter turned around and walked out the front door. He couldn't help but grin as he heard the applause and his name being shouted chanted by the members of the First Baptist Church.

"Cooter! Cooter! Cooter!"

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Brother Bob had been up all night after he got the phone call from one of his deacons telling him about Cooter's antics at the No-D-Lay Cafe. He had tried to sleep but only tossed from side to side. He had walked the floor in anguish. He had cried. He had pulled his hair as he promised revenge. When he had worn himself out, he went to wash his face so he could pull himself together. With his hands full of water, he looked into the mirror and jumped back in surprise at his appearance. With tufts of hair sticking out all over his head and with eyes almost swollen shut from crying, he was amazed at his appearance.

"Damn, I look like Bob Dylan!"

As he was reeling from the thought, a lyric from the only Dylan song he knew started playing in his head.

"When the deputy walks on hard nails
And the preacher rides a mount,
But nothing really matters much,
It's doom alone that counts."

Brother Bob smiled. He had his plan. It was time for a few people to meet their doom. Cooter and all those soulless zombies who frequented The Rack 'n Roll Pool Hall had to pay for the pain they were bringing to the town. And Ethyl, that wicked succubus, had to be stopped before she turned the whole prayer circle against him. Their little town had been a perfect Garden of Eden until Cooter had come along and Ethyl had taken one bite of the forbidden fruit.

With all that sin going on, surely he could undercover a secret that would bring them all down. He could be the savior. He could give the townspeople safety from the storm.

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.

Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve

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.