…then again, if they could see the doctor now…
It’s true that some things are best left alone.
131.1 FM
“Lucy can you stop that tapping?” insisted Johnny.
She did so without a change in her sarcastic expression and looked over to see how Rick was getting on with his rollie, dropping in Golden Virginian without much care. Corey, the most talkative of the bunch, was riding shotgun and currently having one of his quiet periods which was up to an impressive forty minutes. Johnny flashed occasional glances in the rear-view mirror to check (to hope) his friends were not brooding their way towards a speech about how “all this has been a bad idea.” No arguments had occurred but he suspected nobody had really enjoyed themselves either. Save for Johnny’s highway altercation a couple of days ago which ended with his suggestion to “Go suck your mom’s cock!” there had been no big laughs. The temperature wasn’t helping.
Inside Johnny’s Cadillac there was no air-con. The two choices were to either sit still and endure or wind the window down which created that annoying, roaring noise. Johnny watched Lucy go through the familiar pattern and felt like he should say something. “Three more hours till we hit Arkansas!” It wasn’t really an announcement but he tried to say it in a jolly way. Lucy didn’t react. Rick gave a little nod without looking up. Corey took it as a cue to start talking again. “Right then!” He rubbed his hands together and fished through the glove compartment. “What about some music?” It was a question that had implications so he got answers. “We’ve already listened to everything, haven’t we?” asked Rick, dipping into his bag of tobacco. A mixed Bob Marley CD was advertised over Corey’s shoulder. Rick was indifferent and looked at Lucy who Johnny was also checking. She wiped her forehead before replying. “I just wanna get out of this car. Grab some food.” Johnny suspected the other two were fine but that didn’t matter. “Good idea. I’ll take the next exit.”
This west coast to east coast road trip had reached Oklahoma. All four passengers were from Southern California and in search of pleasures typical for 20-somethings who had yet to know what they wanted from life. Johnny didn’t mind taking in a bit of culture but usually bent to the will of the majority. Checking out the Grand Canyon was short-lived while a plan to check out Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, something he assured them would “be really cool” ended up turning into a drinking session. Now was no time for beer. Aside from obvious reasons from Johnny’s perspective they were running low on water. Current scenery was flat and featureless, no houses, no bison’s, even the grass was short and patchy, so there was nothing to distract Johnny before the next exit.
As he banked left off the highway he drove towards one of many little towns, basically a crossroads with a few buildings that must have a population around the 200 mark. To these urbanised passengers they couldn’t understand how people lived here. “Do they even have the internet?” wondered Corey as he turned his head in either direction, always the more energetic of the bunch. Johnny did the same in a calmer manner, to first determine which one was a petrol station and then if it was open – everything looked like it was sleeping. Actually, there was one guy outside the resident station. Johnny cruised beside the lone petrol pump and noticed Lucy as she spied a little shop where she could buy spirit-lifting refreshments. “Fill her up for ya?” asked the stranger in a southern accent. Johnny counted his notes and reminded Rick he needed to chip in more with this one.
With that sorted Rick got out and walked into the dusty road to finally smoke that rollie. Johnny got out for a stretch. Corey followed Lucy into the shop though they had to wait until that guy was done refuelling the car as it was a one man show today. It was probably a one man show every day. In the meantime he amused Lucy by trying on different shades, trying to find the most ill-fitting one. He did it until laughs became smiles. Lucy grabbed a big bottle of water for everyone, some crisps and chocolate. There were no sandwiches but she wouldn’t have trusted them anyway. When the station man came in the shop Corey quickly loaded up on high-caffeine drinks and everything was paid for.
Outside Rick took the last drag of his rollie and walked back to the car. He hadn’t asked for anything but was happy to accept what Lucy offered. They would have all favoured a proper meal. After a few snacks they were content to idle, looking about with some curiosity. “I reckon we drive up a bit further before getting back on the highway,” suggested Corey, “May as well check out some more rural areas if we plan to just burn through this state.” He checked everyone’s reaction. Johnny asked Lucy if she was cool with that who seemed much more upbeat now. “Sure,” she replied. Johnny nodded to himself. “We’ve got a full tank, shouldn’t be a problem. Just keep that map handy.” They got back into the four-wheeled oven, opened the windows and cruised out of “Foss?” said Corey. “What kind of town name is that?”
Making sure to stay within a mile of the highway they drove another five. “I’m not sure we’re gonna see anything, Corey,” said Rick. “There are more tractors than people.” Lucy laughed at the comment which was more to do with her being overtired, laughter that set the others off. Corey didn’t need any encouragement as he guzzled his 500ml can of PRIMAL – the nutritional information of which read like it should be poured into vehicles, not people. He began fiddling with the radio. There was a whole heap of channels…a whole heap of rubbish. Trying to find music in between endless religious stations was tough. “Gotta be something,” mumbled Corey, dedicated to a task that could annoy everyone. He twisted the search nob to 131.1 FM and static was replaced with a twangy guitar riff. Then came a voice in a really southern accent. Nobody in the car liked Country but Corey left it on with a silly grin. “Wait! Listen to this.”
Baby keeps my motor a runnin’
Tell my buds she’s really somethin’
But keep ya damn hands of her
That’s my sweet pussy go find your own!
Lucy didn’t believe what she heard at first. Johnny’s grin said she heard right. When the chorus came around again everyone was in stitches. Corey was crying with laughter. “That last part doesn’t even rhyme!” On the third and final lap he joined in with a competent southern accent for added effect. Johnny had to slow down. Once everyone had recovered Rick insisted Corey left it on this station. The song ended and the DJ came in.
“Thayat was the controversial Mick Boogey with She’s Really Somethin’. Next in this non-stop hour we got The Hoochie Boos.”
That sent Corey off again. “The Hoochie Boos?! Surely he just made that up!” Everyone listened to see if it was funny but it was pretty tame. So was the next one and things settled. Corey took the edge off the volume and watched the abundant fields turn from green to parched brown. “Yep,” he said after a moment, “we’re definitely in Hicksville.” Rick laughed out of his nose, mainly at Corey’s abrasiveness but it reminded him of something. “Y’know, in the 10th grade we had a girl come into our class, Angie I think her name was, yeah, Angie McWilliams. I’m sure she came from Oklahoma, a real country bumpkin. She got a lot of shit.”
“That’s not nice,” said Lucy.
“She wasn’t very nice herself, always picking fights instead of making friends, always causing drama.” Corey made an I-have-something-to-add noise while having a swig. “Sounds like she probably represented the majority of a place like this – no culture, no intelligence.” Johnny, often the voice of reason felt like he should moderate the last opinion. “There’s the chance her parents were no good. Did anyone know her story?” Rick shrugged. “I don’t think so, but she was very defensive. I bet she would have told you to fuck off.” Corey nodded like he knew her. “I bet on average there are more dickheads here. Even that guy who filled the car up, he gave us that distant look like ‘what the fuck you doin’ ere boy?’” Johnny didn’t disagree with that observation. All the while 131.1 FM had been twanging away. This latest one was repetitive and had to go, but before caffeinated Corey started fiddling again the DJ cut in.
“We can just go around,” said Corey dismissively.
“I’d prefer to stick to the highway. Plus one of the others is a toll road,” replied Johnny.
“Aynd, as always, if anywown is nearby we’d love to chat. Don’t have to be ‘bout country, even if you’re just passin’ baa. We’ve had some real characters over the years. For first time listeners we’re just off state highway 73, about a half-mile west of Clinton.”
Corey opened up as much of the map without it getting in Johnny’s face and traced their whereabouts with a finger. “Ha-ha! We’re really close to this radio station y’know?” Lucy and Rick gave each other an open look. Corey looked at Johnny with a grin. “I reckon we say hello, especially if you’re gonna wait for the highway. We got hours to kill.” Johnny saw the logic but first did his customary look in the review mirror to check the passengers were cool with it. “If you know how to get there without getting us lost then-”
“It’s literally just a couple of clicks away,” assured Corey, a bit hyper.
Johnny actually liked the fact they were doing something different. Maybe it would pardon missing Carlsbad Caverns. Okay, no, it was a bitch missing that. Maybe it could begin to make up for it. Five minutes and the scenery became even more barren which actually helped. Before going down a narrow dirt track they could see a large white wooden building with acres of space around it. Were it not for the soaring antenna you’d think it was a farm house. A series of parked cars suggested activity but the closer they got revealed how out of condition they were. Lucy observed a tower-like section of the building where the sun reflected into her eyes. Then she saw a small window close. “I think we’ve been spotted.”
As they pulled up and got out to replace humidity for direct sunlight they felt even more at a loss than they did at the petrol station though in a good way, good in the sense that this was would be too random to forget. They spread out and looked around before deciding which out of two doors they should knock on. The sound of one hitting a wall got everyone’s attention and from it came a man of average height with that diminished musculature which suggested both age and activity. He wore old jeans, brown cowboy boots and a black top that bannered his station frequency in white writing. He shot a “Howdy!” before they got a look at his face. When he got close enough they could see a greasy pony tail with dark streaks in it. His over-tanned face looked like it had taken a few and was covered in stubble that grew into his cheeks. Johnny felt like he should introduce everyone and what they were doing.
“We’re all from Southern California and travelling right across to New York. We heard your advertisement – to come and say hello – so here we are.”
The old DJ beamed with his thumbs hooked over his belt as if they had done him some great service. He kept smiling and nodding at them individually until Corey got in there. “You’ve got one big pad here.” The old DJ puckered his lips and nodded without saying anything. “So what’s your name?”
“Name’s Jim.”
“And a big fan of country I take it?” said Corey.
“Yeyp.” He squinted with his smile. “I’m guessing you kids ain’t the biggest fayns?” His smile encouraged them to be honest. “Not really,” said Corey while the rest shook their heads with little grins.
“Ha-ha! Ain’t no problem. Well then, you wanna speak on aiyr? No use prattlin’ in this heat. Y’all follow me.” Jim began walking assertively and the rest, after looking at each other, followed suit. Corey trailed with Johnny at the back to whisper, “How did I know he was going to be called Jim?” Johnny smiled and shook his head. “Don’t start saying shit like that.”
It was nice to get out of the sun. Inside the house were dark, well-polished wooden boards and chequered wallpaper, real ugly was the shared thought. There were a good number of crosses and before they went up a couple of floors Rick peered into the lounge where he saw the head of a bison trophy sticking out. The speed at which Jim was moving suggested he had other duties to attend to. Noisy feet went over a big landing. Everyone was welcomed into an average-sized, dusty room with radio equipment and head phones. A couple of windows allowed them to see the dirt track they had driven along and the featureless horizon. Corey and Lucy took the available seats. Rick and Johnny leant against the wall behind them.
“Sorry theyr ain’t enough pews. No worries, this won’t take long.”
The old DJ pulled out a clipboard on which were a series of questions and put on his head phones, signalling for those seated to do the same. He did a subliminal count while tapping the air, hit a button and pointed at his guests. “It’s three O’ clock in our glorious state, a real scorcher, and we have with us a group of regular travellers whose names are…” He pointed at them. Corey and Lucy gave theirs while Johnny and Rick had to quickly lean into the mic which made them laugh.
“And before they carry on awwwl the way to the big apple, we’re gonna put them through Old Jim’s quick-fire round.” They flashed a look at each other, smiling. It wasn’t what they expected.
“Okay, so how’s Oklahoma treated you so far?”
“You’re the first one we’ve spoken to, so good I’d say!” responded Corey. A ringing noise went off which made them all laugh.
“Good aynswer! What is our state animal?”
“C’mon, we just got here!” said Corey.
“Gotta be the Bison?” said Johnny. The ringing noise went off again.
“Yes Sir! What’s the best breakfast a mayn can wake up to?”
The question made the other three look at Lucy who answered, “I’d say a stack of waffles in syrup.”
“Dang, that sounds good, but,” a honking noise went off, “I’m gonna have to say grits, bacon and a six pack of beer.” Cue big laughs. “Okay, are you folk’s football, basketball or baseball?” Johnny and Corey said “Football” in stereo. Rick said “Probably basketball.” Lucy shrugged. “If I had to choose then football.”
“Ayyynd finally, what’s your favourite baynd?”
Lucy got in there first with “Razorlight!”
“Aphex Twin,” said Rick. “Affects what?” responded Jim, causing more laughter.
“Zeppelin,” said Johnny.
Corey blurted out “Dolly Parton!”
“Dolly Parton!? She was in no baynd, great tits though a-heh heh. Oops.” Jim nodded in Lucy’s direction. “Pardon me mayam. Well, that about wraps it up. Let’s give a big thanks to Rick, Lucy, Johnny and especially Corey. It’s time for another non-stop hour of Oklahoma’s finest, and we’ll kick things off with Teddy Dour.” Jim took off his headphones and turned to them all. “Well, I thought I might have some time but it just twigged I got chores to do!”
“That’s not a problem,” said Johnny, “It’s been fun.” Having said that he did wonder what the audience was like for this station, if anyone was listening at all. As Rick stood up he noticed a framed picture of a military man. “Prv. Karl Brooks” it read. They all left the dusty room, nodding and smiling at Jim as he followed them downstairs for a formal goodbye. “Thanks agaiyn for showin’ up. If you wownt some good chow Gill & Turner’s is just a couple miles up if you take a left out here.”
“Cool, I could do with some proper food. Thanks again!” said Corey. They all waved bye to Jim who quickly went back in and ran back up the stairs. Once they got near the car, parked a good twenty metres away from the house, they briefly reflected on what just happened. “Very random,” said Lucy and let out another laugh. “Ah, you see, he didn’t seem so bad did he?” said Johnny, directing his comment at Corey. “Hey! I never say they were all dickheads…he was called Jim though which was a bit ridiculous.”
“If they do burgers at this Gill & Turner’s I’m all over it,” said Rick. “Right then, Shall we get going? My skin can’t take this sun,” insisted Lucy. They all got bac
k in Johnny’s Cadillac which had only gotten warmer. He hit the ignition and something hit them. BANG! The car jolted and the left front tyre began to sink. “What the fuck?!” Johnny’s instincts were shouting private property but that did make any sense. Lucy noticed that same glare in her eyes as when they approached this building and looked up at that tower to see a little flap close. “Okay, okay, okay.” She knew what might have happened but didn’t want to put it in words that could threaten to make it true. Rick, though frightened to silence, was being his observant self and saw Jim reappear with a rifle hanging from his shoulder plus a sawn-off shotgun in his grasp - that quickly made him say something. “Fuck! That radio guy is coming! Put your foot down Johnny!” Rick and Corey started to yell the same thing which made for a great racket. “I’m fucking trying!” said Johnny. BANG! That one was louder and did more than pop the tyre of the left rear wheel. They weren’t going anywhere.
Jim walked up with a swagger and lowered his gun. He leant over to get a good look at his most recent guests and smiled as they trembled. His ruddy, unshaven face had a real know-it-all look. “Name’s not Jim!” he projected. He smiled and shook his head, “And you, weren’t, even, on, aiyr. Who’s the stupid fuck now?” A moment of staring followed in which the man who used to be Jim got a kick out of the worried expressions. The sawn-off was put in a holster and the rifle was taken from his shoulder. It was actually a sniper rifle. “Do you know what thiys iys!?” he asked while pointing to an expensive looking scope on top of the rifle. This one was directed at Corey who quickly shook his head. “Let me enlighten you. This is a hiiiiighly advanced sound amplifier, a modern prototype, able to pick up what people are saying from up to two miles away.” He smiled and backed up to let that one sink in. The sawn-off went into his hands again. “I’ve heard every fuckin’ thing, now get out this car!” Strangely enough nobody moved. The armed DJ tapped the barrel of his shotgun against the glass next to Lucy. “If y’all don’t get out she’s not gown have a brain leyft.”
Dare to Read: 13 Tales of Terror Page 13