by William Bebb
After he set the basket of marijuana buds on a table, made out of an old wooden cable spool, he opened his jug of home brew whiskey and had a sip. He hummed as he hung the fresh buds on a fishing line with wooden clothes pins. When they dried out he would store them in some large plastic bags. His storage shed was almost half full and he planned on seeing Hector soon to do some trading. After hanging the last of the buds he went to the other line and removed the dried out ones. When he finished collecting them he sat slowly down in his lounge chair and looked in his basket of buds. It was a good haul and he inhaled the aroma as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the moon. He rolled a joint and lit it inhaling deeply.
Charlie was feeling old and tired. As he smoked, he wished himself a happy birthday. Most people his age would consider it depressing to be celebrating their fifty sixth birthday alone in a dark deserted canyon, but he smiled slightly. Long ago he decided that people weren't worth a damn as a rule and planned his future so that he'd have as little contact with them as possible. Before he found this place he'd told those few friends he had his plan for life- it was as simple as it was ingenious. Find a little piece of land where no one ever came, build a fence, and grow what food he needed, and just enjoy life alone. They'd laughed and said he sounded like he wanted to be a hermit. Charlie would just smile and nod his head as he meticulously made his plans.
He wasn't stupid then and still wasn't twenty five years after he secretly had his trailer delivered and set up at night. Having hired day laborers to install the fence around his acre and a half of paradise he felt safe and secure. He planned to spend the rest of his life alone, well, alone except for his friends. He bought Skynyrd back in 1990, it was a cute Burmese Python weighing only twenty pounds. It was just six foot long when he brought him home, but Charlie was uncertain how long or how much it weighed today. Skynyrd was a good friend who earned his keep by devouring rats and rabbits that would occasionally invade his garden. He didn't even chase or try to eat Charlie's only other friend Cha-ka any longer.
Oh sure the snake liked to play games with both him and Cha-ka, but he knew how to tickle the python with his prosthetic arms metal pincers in a way that always made Skynyrd behave. And Cha-ka always scurried away when the snake was in a hugging mood.
Cha-ka was a Capuchin monkey he'd had for ten years. She was very sweet and loved to eat tomatoes from the garden and also enjoyed smoking marijuana with him from time to time. The only problem was she loved to wander away and explore the neighborhood. That often made Charlie worried when she would disappear sometimes for days at a time. As he smoked he saw the monkey curled up in her basket under the stereo by the front door of the trailer.
Sometimes, he liked to think of himself as a modern day Adam from the garden of Eden only without an Eve. If he ever thought too hard about lacking a woman he'd just remember all the trouble women had caused him in life and be thankful to be alone again. The only thing Charlie remembered with clarity about the garden of Eden was the fact that it was paradise until a woman fucked it all up.
He tried to relax, and couldn't. His mind lately had been filled with thoughts of rabbits. It was almost like an invasion and the situation seemed to be getting serious. Having always grown vegetables, in addition to his marijuana, he'd gotten used to an occasional rabbit intrusion. However, lately the rabbits had been invading his garden in alarming numbers. They had almost decimated his tomatoes and had now moved on to his corn which he used to make whiskey with a homemade still.
Generally, he liked the rabbits because without their frequent visits he would have had to turn to vegetarianism decades ago- a thought that made him nauseous. In the course of an average week his snares might catch three or four of the long eared meals, yet ever since the neighbors decided to take up screaming as some sort of social activity he'd been swamped with rabbits. His snares had caught nearly a hundred in just four days, but the worst part was the way the little furry farts had terrorized his gardens without mercy.
Saturday they had eaten all his tomatoes and some of his corn. Sunday they had destroyed almost all his corn and moved on to attack his marijuana plants. He never realized rabbits could get stoned on marijuana until yesterday when he went out and found over a dozen of them scattered around the garden in a dazed nearly comatose condition. On the plus side that made snapping their necks easy, but the loss of two pot plants still infuriated him.
He was sure it was whatever shenanigans the Mexicans were up to and their resultant screams that were making the rabbits migrate. Plus the screams had been making getting mellow impossible.
“There's only one answer for annoying neighbors.” He said, turning on his stereo and cranking the volume to its highest setting. Pulling out his favorite album, he smiled and set it on his record player and flipped the power switch. The record began rotating on the turntable, and after a few hisses and pops Lynyrd Skynyrd began playing Sweet Home Alabama.
Charlie remembered the concert he saw them at in 1974 and felt the years melt away as his little moonlit valley echoed with the sweet sounds of classic southern rock. He had come back from the war missing both legs below the knee, and his right arm from the elbow down, but that night he felt more alive than ever before. Everyone was getting high and drunk as the concert went on and Charlie was no exception. He didn't remember the little brunette girl’s name, but he did remember her body and how she could move it as the concert went on that night. She was drunk and had lost track of her friends at the concert. Always the gentleman, he had offered to give her a ride back to his hotel when it was over. When she agreed he drove his specially equipped van back to his hotel in less than twenty minutes with her giggling and enjoying a joint the whole way there.
As he stared at the moon, he tapped his prosthetic arm that ended in a pair of metal pincers in time with the music and sang along as he remembered how things had gone that night after they made it back to the hotel. She was an adventurous and energetic girl who didn't mind trying new things, like sex with a triple amputee for example. She let him do things with her that he'd only read about in magazines. The only bad part was the next morning as they laid in bed naked watching cartoons and smoking a breakfast joint when she asked about his missing testicle. The landmine he stepped on in the war took the right one, he had lied, but left the potent one. She giggled as she got out of bed and started getting dressed.
“Where you going?” he asked, as he watched Bugs Bunny outwit Elmer Fudd once again on the hotel's color TV which had been thoughtfully chained to the wall. It was a classy hotel.
She smiled, leaned down and kissed his forehead as he sat up in bed. “You're sweet Chuck, but you know it was just a one night kind of thing right?”
“Do you have to go today? Now? We could just goof off, have some kicks today, and maybe come back here tonight for an encore performance.”' He said looking at her as Bugs Bunny loudly chewed on a carrot and asked “What’s up Doc?”
She pulled on her torn blue jeans. Turning off the TV she looked at him with a thoughtful expression. He noticed for the first time as she looked at him that her eyes were a sparkling bright blue. She was still topless when she finally broke the silence and asked him, “Chuck you're not falling in love with me are you?”
In love? He rolled the words around in his head, while glancing between her beautiful breasts and almost equally beautiful eyes, but didn't say what he felt. He said what he thought she wanted to hear. And not a day had gone by since then that he didn't wonder if he should have told the truth.
He had laughed and said “Come on baby, I'm not a love sick puppy. I just thought we could have another day of fun unless you've got somewhere you need to go. If that's what’s got you upset it's cool. I understand.” He looked at his wheelchair and added “Love? No way I'm falling in love with you. I just like you a lot.”
She slipped on her t-shirt that had the words Free Bird on the front and looked troubled for a moment then said “Okay Chuckles one more day.”
The day had been warm, and everything felt right with the world, as they went shopping. He had been receiving disability payments since he got back from the war and hadn't spent much money aside from the custom equipped van. It was retrofitted with brakes and accelerator controls on the steering wheel. Almost as good, was the new quadraphonic stereo system he had installed. The van also had two carrying cases full of great eight track tapes as well. It was truly one sweet ride.
After she'd gotten him to buy her quite a few new clothes they drove to the beach late in the afternoon. He watched her change clothes in the back of the van. She slipped into a new bikini, he'd bought for her, and felt like the luckiest man in the world. Until he got his wheelchair out and sat in the parking lot watching her run across the beach with her beautiful long hair flowing back in the wind. He sipped on a beer as she chatted with some other kids her age. After his third beer, she finally looked in his direction and gave him a brief wave when none of the others were looking. He was a patchwork of emotions as he watched her play on the beach.
Sometimes he was furious with God for having left him legless with only one arm and unable to play with his new girlfriend. Then on those occasions she'd give him a furtive wave he felt lucky to be alive and with a beautiful sweet woman who cared for him. Eventually he got back in the van and listened to his stereo while watching her run and play. He woke up when she knocked on the window smiling at him.
She came back after sunset smelling of weed, sand, sweat, beer and though he tried to dismiss the thought, she also smelled like sex. He pushed the idea away and agreed to let her drive the van back to the hotel after she begged to try. He had given in to her as her eyes sparkled in the reflection of the setting sun. They got back to the hotel, ordered a pizza, and she showered and tried on some of her new clothes for him. He liked all of the outfits, but his favorite was the bright red silk teddy nightgown he'd bought her.
They ate pizza and watched a movie about giant rabbits called Night of the Lepus. She got excited when she recognized an actor named DeForest Kelley in the movie. After it was over they smoked some weed and she rambled forever about the TV Star Trek series and how it was a travesty it was canceled.
After thirty minutes of meaningless talk he finally leaned over and kissed her. She flipped off the light and they had a nice, albeit much too brief, exchange of bodily fluids then she kissed him on the cheek. In the dark room, as trucks could be heard roaring down the nearby interstate, she said she was just really worn out from all the goofing off she'd done on the beach and rolled over to get some sleep.
“You think we could do some things tomorrow?” he asked, as she laid facing away from him.
“We'll see Chuck.” Were the last words he ever heard her say.
When Charlie awoke the next morning she had left and taken everything, except the TV that was still chained to the wall and his wheelchair. She also left a brief note that was framed under glass today hanging from his living room wall. He kept it as a reminder never to trust anyone again. The note read-
Charlie,
I wish I could say I'm sorry, for taking your van and everything else, but I needed them, so I can't. I will thank you though. You're the nicest and most trusting man I've ever met. And I know things will work out for you in life. Just one bit of advice, DON'T BE SO TRUSTING! Sincerely yours, B. D. B.
At least she left him enough weed to get high while he wept the day away. It was the worst day of his life, including the day he stepped on the mine. At least then the medics gave him morphine for the pain, but marijuana couldn't compete with that when it came to the agony of a broken heart.
He eventually dozed off, as the songs kept playing, and didn't notice the screams were much louder and closer while he dreamed of a little blue eyed brunette who he still thought about every day. Usually he wondered what she would have done if he'd said YES when she asked him if he'd been falling in love with her. In his dreams they lived happily ever after, together.
“Wake up Issac. Wake up.” Jeremiah was shaking him as his friend snored softly. At first he thought he must be dreaming, but the music kept playing as he heard Issac snoring.
“What’s? Where am-.” Jeremiah held his hand over Issac's mouth.
“Shush, just listen, do you hear that music?”
Not too distant they both heard someone singing outside. The music was hard to make out and neither young man knew who played the song, yet they both clearly understood some of the words- I got to go Lord.
“It’s a sign Issac. Come on, get up, I got a table leg for you too. Let's follow that music and do what we can.”
“Jeremiah it's just a song, not a sign. We can't go out there with all those things wandering around, plus its dark outside how would we see where to go?” Issac said, leaning back against the hemorrhaging bean bag chair.
“Well then, I guess this is goodbye.” Jeremiah stood up and walked to the door holding his club that formerly served as an oak kitchen table leg. “God Bless you, brother Issac.” he said, opening the door.
“Wait a minute. Wait damn it.” Issac stood up and walked to the door feeling a cool breeze, as he looked at his young friend. “Swear to me you really believe this is the sign and I'll come with you.”
Jeremiah looked around, outside for anyone, and finally whispered “I swear it. I might be wrong, and yet I really believe we were meant to not just hear this music, but to follow it. And no, I can't begin to guess what we'll find out there but I'm going to find out- with or without you.”
“Alright, I believe you, but please do one thing with me before we go out there. As we were riding into the valley this afternoon I felt the Twenty Third Psalm running through my mind over and over. Pray it with me and we'll go.” Issac said, as he looked at the moon.
They spent a few minutes reciting the Psalm then followed the music into the night.
“It’s actually quite good music.” Jeremiah said, holding his club over his right shoulder.
“I was thinking the same thing.” Issac said carrying an identical club over his left shoulder.
“When we get out of here and everything is back to normal, I am definitely buying some of their CDs.” The music got steadily louder, as they walked in the moonlight, until they found a tall chain link fence.
“It’s pretty high. Maybe there's a gate somewhere. Which way do you want to go?” Issac asked, as one song ended and the next began. Free bird started playing and Issac turned and grabbed Jeremiah's shoulder. “I know this song. I know it. It's called Free Bird. My cousins, who like to think of themselves as musicians, would play it a lot when I would visit them. I know the band’s name too, just give me a second.”
Jeremiah looked frustrated. “Let’s go find the gate. And you can ask whoever is playing it what the name of the band is.” He then turned left and followed the fence.
“I really do know the band's name. It’s right on the tip of my tongue.” Issac said, as he followed.
CHAPTER 9
The old lady snored in the lounge chair as Maria poured a few drops of gasoline into the carburetor, like she had seen her father do when she was a little girl. Whispering a prayer, she got into the car and turned the key. The engine made cranking noises and then there was a tremendously loud backfire as it rumbled to life. Blue and white clouds of smoke billowed out of the tailpipe.
Mrs. Remlap screamed when she heard the backfire and grabbed the shotgun she had propped nearby. She'd never fired it, but knew it would work if she needed it. It was an old double barrel shotgun her husband had used many times to run off coyotes and scare an occasional salesman in the good old days. Maria had looked inside when she had first seen it, and confirmed there were shells in it and had asked many times since if she knew where any more ammunition was. She had only looked confused, shrugged, and asked Maria if she wanted more lemonade.
The car rumbled unsteadily, yet the engine was definitely running. When she pressed the gas pedal gently the rumbling evened out into a loud roar. She got out o
f the car, coughed on the exhaust fumes quickly filling the garage, and smiled as the old lady got unsteadily to her feet wiping sleep out of her eyes.
“Want to go for a ride?” Maria asked, finishing off her glass of lemonade.
Mrs. Remlap grabbed her purse, and a folded multicolored umbrella she used as a cane, but forgot the shotgun on the floor next to her chair. She slowly tottered over and got into the driver’s seat while the eight track tape deck played Jerry Reed singing When you're hot you're hot.
“The garage door is too sturdy to just run the car through, so I'm gonna have to open it. You stay inside and when I get back we'll get out of here, okay?” Maria asked, coughing. The exhaust fumes made the air a smoky bluish white fog bank. The headlights were on so she could see her way to the garage door.
Looking at the padlock holding the doors shut, she was willing to bet the key was on the ring with the car's keys. But, afraid to turn off the car, even for as brief a time as unlocking the padlock would take, she instead used a long screwdriver and pried at the screws that the padlock was attached to on the garage doors. She feared the roughly rumbling car might not start again. The wood was old and the screws popped out easily. As the last screw fell to the dirt floor of the garage she started pushing the heavy door on the left side open.