Picaro

by West, Terry M.

  “What? How can you say that?” Cecil said. He was nothing but stunned.

  Reginald sighed. He didn’t want to inflict this type of pain on his boy, but the lid was pried off of it now. It was something that needed freeing.

  “You have been nothing to me but a disappointment,” Reginald continued. “You have no ambition, shame or drive. Your work is shabby and has to be triple-checked. None of your coworkers likes you much. I’ve lost some quality employees because of my loyalty to you. You have never excelled at anything your entire life. I can’t recall a single moment of pride given to me by you. And what really bothers me the most about all of this is how oblivious you are to the huge failure you call your life. I find you a disgusting thing, most of the time. You have the moral values of an alley cat. You seldom bathe. You are something lowly and not deserving of respect. The very sight of you sickens me more often than not. You are my greatest mistake, and I apologize to the world for fostering you upon it.”

  Cecil strained to keep from crying like a baby. When he could finally speak, he said, “So, why do you keep me on here, then?”

  “Every village needs its idiot, I guess,” Reginald said coldly.

  “Damn,” Cecil said, reeling from the remark. He could feel hot tears boiling behind his sockets. “I quit being your responsibility at eighteen, man. So just fire me, if I put you off that much.”

  “I promised your mama on her deathbed that I would take care of you,” Reginald explained. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with his shirt. “You are a thirty year- old child, and I resent spending so much of the little time I have left on your care and well-being. But, like I said, I promised your mama. You are my burden.”

  Cecil’s eyes finally betrayed him and he counted the tears as the least of his humiliation that night. “Damn, man. Don’t spare my feelings now.”

  “Your sister is going to get the garage when I step down or die,” Reginald informed his son. He returned the glasses to his face and refocused his solemn attention on Cecil.

  “Janie gets the business?” Cecil scoffed. “But what does she know about the business?”

  “Your sister is smart, industrious and she has blessed me with two grandsons and two granddaughters. She’s a hell of a lot more deserving, Cecil,” Reginald insisted.

  “So, she’s in and I’m out.”

  Reginald nodded. “Yes. But don’t worry. You will always have a job here. It’s in my will, and your sister will respect my wishes. You’ll always have family here to work under. When I am gone, there will be your sister. Then, who knows? Maybe you’ll work for your nieces and nephews. I just hope you don’t weigh them down. You have a tendency to do that.”

  Cecil looked at his father. Reginald’s face was made of tired stone. Cecil wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere and die.

  “I know these are harsh words, Cecil,” Reginald said, putting his windbreaker and hat back on. “I have hoped and prayed for you and I have pushed and threatened you but you’re thick-headed, son. It’s just not getting through. And I think we’re both too old and set to see a positive change in the matter.”

  Reginald walked to the entrance of the mini store and paused. He turned back to Cecil. “Son, this estimation of you would have died with me and I would have let you live your life like the blissful idiot you are. But believing you have it in you to run this place? It’s just foolish thinking on your part. You have to see that.”

  Cecil wiped his face dry and scowled sadly. “Yeah, okay. The message is received; loud and clear. Your thick-headed idiot of a son gets it now, Daddy. You hate me.”

  “No. That ain’t the case. I love you with all my heart. I’m just not very fond of you is all,” Reginald admitted, turning to leave.

  His father froze at the door, and Cecil could tell the man was searching for something else to say. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t undo the heartbreak or hurt Cecil any more than he had already been hurt. Cecil would never see his daddy in the same light again. He would always feel like the albatross; the cross to bear.

  “Have a happy Halloween, Cecil,” Reginald finally managed for a farewell. He didn’t look back as he left the store.

  Cecil sat there silently on the stool.

  After a few minutes, a couple of trick-or-treaters in their early teens came into the store. One was dressed as a pirate and they other wore a ninja turtle costume.

  “Trick or treat!” they announced, encouraged by the homemade sign on the building’s window that told them to come inside for free candy.

  “You want candy!” Cecil bellowed angrily. He scooped the candy bowl up into his hands and tossed the entire contents of the bowl at the children. “Here! Here’s your candy, you fucking mooches! Get the hell out of here!”

  The children screamed and ran out of the store. Once they were gone, Cecil shuffled sadly to the door. He flipped the store sign over to CLOSED, and then he turned off the lights. He helped himself to a six pack and drank it alone in the dark.

  ***

  “Eat my pussy, Bubba!”

  “I’m sorry, come again?” Bubba said, craning his head nearer to Lydia, one of the dancers at the Busty & Lusty strip club. It was loud in the joint and he had obviously misheard her.

  Lydia, dressed in a sexy little black cat outfit, stood pluckily in front of him. “I said eat my pussy!” she repeated, bringing a plastic cake dish from behind her back. She pressed it into Bubba’s hands.

  He smiled and tilted the lid up. A lopsided chocolate cake in the shape of a black cat sat there.

  “Oh, wow, man,” Bubba said, grinning. “You made this?”

  Lydia nodded. “It’s a Halloween cake. Now you can go home and eat my pussy!” she joked, laughing energetically.

  Bubba blushed slightly and nodded. “Well, thanks, Lydia. That’s awful sweet.”

  Lydia tugged at a strand of black hair that rested on her shoulder. “So are you working tonight?”

  “No,” Bubba said, patting the breast pocket of his flannel, where an envelope was stashed. “Just came in for my check.”

  “That’s a nice shirt,” Lydia said, pressing her hand against Bubba’s stomach.

  “Oh, yeah,” Bubba said, admiring it himself. “My mama gave me this one.”

  “How is she doing?” Lydia asked.

  “She’s good; happy as a clam. She sent me a text this morning. She finally got her handicap plates.”

  “Cool, rock star parking!” Lydia said, impressed. “She’s so lucky.”

  Bubba nodded.

  Lydia reached up and took Bubba’s cap off. She smiled playfully and put it on her own head. She touched Bubba’s hair.

  “You have such great hair, Bubba. What is it, dark blonde? It’s hard to tell with the lighting in here.”

  “Sandy brown, actually,” Bubba said, gently taking his cap back and returning it to his head.

  “You take care of your hair. A lot of guys don’t know how. But you use product. I can tell,” Lydia said. “I just don’t know why you cover such a great head of hair with that hat.”

  Bubba shrugged and smiled. Lydia started playing with her own hair again and stared at Bubba expectantly. She cocked up her hip and rested her palm there. She waited for him to make some kind of move, he suspected.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t like Lydia. She was a looker. A little pale for him, maybe, and with that pitch black hair; Bubba didn’t have a tremendous fondness for those goth types and she definitely had that rich and dark flavoring. But still, he enjoyed the flirtation that existed between them. It was sweet, and it made him feel desirable. He didn’t want that to go away, but he had no intention of encouraging anything further from it. Hell, he couldn’t take Lydia home to meet mama.

  He was particular about the women he associated with and bedded. Just because he worked at a jiggle joint didn’t mean he would screw anything that would grant him access. And besides, Lydia was a bouncer groupie. She had screwed every other strongarm at the door. He didn’t know why she had
this fetish. Daddy issues, he figured.

  Seeing that Bubba wasn’t being led to the water, Lydia decided to take the ball from his hands. “You want to have breakfast with me?”

  “Well, Lydia, I’ve got something cooking tonight. But rain check me on that, okay?”

  Lydia nodded and gave him a smile, but he could tell that she was disappointed and not used to being turned down. “Yeah, great. I mean, it’s no big deal. We all got to eat. Figured we could just do that together, you know?”

  “Absolutely and I am down. Just not for tonight,” Bubba assured her.

  “Well, I’m up soon. Enjoy the cake,” Lydia said, turning away and heading for the back.

  “I’ll wash this and bring it back to you!” Bubba said, holding up the cake container.

  Bubba looked around the club. It was packed and the girls wore outfits even more flamboyant than their regular sexy work garments. The Busty & Lusty always did it up big for Halloween. There was an all night Witches Brew drink special at the bar, and a larger than normal crowd of nicely dressed businessmen and good old boys in more casual, tough attire crowded the area.

  Bubba walked over to the DJ booth and peeked inside, giving a nod to the shadow behind the microphone.

  “How they hanging, Taylor?” he asked the shadow in the booth.

  A young Hispanic male face wearing headphones peeked out into the light. “What up Bee Bee?” Taylor said.

  They whipped their fingers around in the air as if reacting to something too hot to touch before slapping palms. It was a little juvenile, but Bubba always got a big kick out of their secret handshake.

  “Busy tonight, huh?” Bubba said, watching as a stripper picked up dollar bills from the stage floor as her music faded.

  “Yeah. Hey, we got some fresh blood in. Have you seen the new girl? She just started today. Finest piece I’ve ever seen, bro,” Taylor said, tapping a button on his console.

  “She that sweet?” Bubba asked.

  “I’m bringing her out now. Check it,” Taylor said, stretching back into the booth and grabbing his microphone.

  “That was Amber burning bright on stage for your pleasure, ladies and gentlemen,” Taylor was obligated to say ladies, though there wasn’t but one female customer Bubba could see. “And we’re going to keep the fires raging as Red comes out now on stage. This is her hot debut, so let’s give it up for Red!”

  Taylor hit the music. Burning down the House by the Talking Heads blared from the sound system. Bubba smiled, and waited for the silhouette behind the flimsy stage curtain to strut out into the glow of the colored foot lights. At the sight of the new girl, Bubba dropped the cake Lydia had given him.

  “Shit on a shingle, man,” he muttered, and he wasn’t smiling anymore.

  ***

  Cecil woke with a start, nearly falling off of the stool behind the register. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what was happening. It all came back to him, and a fresh bout of depression circled.

  There were eight empty beer bottles in front of his eyes and he had fallen asleep with tobacco under his lip. He noticed the sticky brown stain on the counter that had drooled out of his mouth. Looking around, he spotted a half used paper towel roll near the register. He tore off a few sheets, and cleaned his chin and then the counter.

  Bubba stepped into the dark store. “Hello?” he called. “Cecil? You in here, man?”

  “Yeah,” Cecil replied, spitting the flavorless chaw from his mouth and into a wastebasket near him.

  Bubba found the light switch near the door and turned it on. He then flipped the store sign back over to OPEN. “What’s going on in here? Why were the lights shut off and the closed sign up?”

  “Took a shit break,” Cecil said, rubbing the back of his neck. Slumping to sleep on the counter had given him a nasty crick.

  “You left the door open,” Bubba noted. “Anyone could have come in and stole from you.”

  “Well, everything looks pretty much the same as before,” Cecil said, clearing off the bottles.

  “What are you doing drinking on the job?” Bubba said, counting the empties gathered before him. “Man, your daddy is gonna have your hide if he finds out.”

  “Let me let you in on something, Bubba,” Cecil said, with a cheerless little grin. “My daddy thinks I am a waste of space. He told me what a piece of shit I am tonight. Far as I’m concerned, I got no daddy.”

  “Cecil, come on, man,” Bubba said, resting a pudgy hand on Cecil’s shoulder. “There ain’t nothing more important than family. That’s all some of us got.”

  Cecil moved Bubba’s hand away. “Your family ain’t nothing but Jesus freaks and drama queens, brother. But at least they take you for what you are. Shit, I thought my dyke cousin Sandra was the black sheep of the McGee clan. Bet my Daddy would promote her to run operations before me.”

  “No offense, Cecil. I’ve met Sandra. The gal looks like a little workhorse,” Bubba said, drawing ire from Cecil’s eyes. “Well, maybe that ain’t a fair comparison,” Bubba threw on top of it.

  Cecil looked at the store clock. It was ten pm. “Where the hell you been? I thought you were getting your check and coming back to keep me company.”

  “Yeah, that was the plan,” Bubba said, still trying to settle on the best way to bring up his words. “I had a little hiccup. Ran into someone we know.”

  “Yeah, and who would that be?” Cecil said, tearing open a fresh bag of chew and reloading his lip.

  “You gotta promise me something first, man,” Bubba said. “Give me your word you ain’t gonna freak.”

  “I ain’t promising you shit,” Cecil said, distrustfully. “What’s going on here, Bubba?”

  “Best probably if I just show you,” Bubba said, going back to the store entrance.

  He pressed the door open and stuck his face out into the night. “It’s okay. Just come on in here.”

  A woman walked into the store. She wore brand new jeans that had a firm grip of her ass and a tourist tee shirt with the phrase DON’T MESS WITH TEXAS emblazoned on it, stretched wide by her generous bosom. She had lush red hair and bright green eyes. Sun freckles were lightly dabbed on her cheeks. It was Hattie Mae Reynolds. She smiled apprehensively at Cecil.

  “Hello, Cecil.”

  Tojo Smith has a serious problem. He is the number one heel for a small wrestling promotion in Texas. He is also an earthbound demon and his mission is to inspire hatred in people. This is his service to the greater evil. But suddenly, the wrestling fans start to cheer for Tojo. He goes from the most hated villain of his promotion to the most cheered antihero. And no matter how loathsome his actions in the ring become, his popularity soars. When Hell notices this imbalance, Tojo is given an ultimatum: get the hate flowing again or be sent down into the fiery pits!

  Buy Turning Face!

  Please enjoy this preview of Turning Face!

  1.

  "The art of living is more like wrestling than dancing, in so far as it stands ready against the accidental and the unforeseen, and is not apt to fall."

  -Marcus Aurelius

  Tojo Smith was an earthbound demon in service to Hell, but that didn't make him a bad guy. He had no more control over his heritage than anyone else. Little on this earth scared him, but he was afraid that summer day. He sat in his double wide trailer on a recliner that was grooved to his heavy form. He was positioned between the cross current of two oscillating fans. They chilled his sweaty human skin. Country music played softly on his clock radio.

  He was getting a visit from down below. Tojo had received the message telepathically and it was the first time he had ever gotten one from down there. He was taking a leak in his trailer when the message came. The jolt had caused him to piss all over himself and his bathroom. A supervisor from the pits named Mr. Blickenderfer was paying him a visit, and Tojo was absolutely terrified. The date and time had been set for the following Saturday at 1:47P.M.. He had gotten the message on a quiet Sunday morning, and it gave him nea
rly a week to fret over it. The demonic administrative assistant had also instructed Tojo to have a pack of filter less cigarettes, a pound of raw hamburger meat and a bottle of red wine prepared for Mr. Blickenderfer.

  Tojo knew what this meeting was about; his current troubles in fulfilling Hell's needs.

  Now, before we get to the predicament Tojo was in, we need to shift gears here slightly and travel back to the beginning of it all so you can fully appreciate the turmoil that was boiling inside the Eden-born, earthbound demon.

  Tojo was birthed (topside, mind you) in 1960. His parents were hate demons from the lowest circle. Tojo figured that they must have shown potential, because they were joined and sent in human guise to man's realm. They conceived Tojo and had him privately at their small house in Tyler, Texas. This had been the most practical recourse seeing that Tojo would be born with red scales and orange eyes. He would grow smooth, pink skin and his eyes would darken because of the climate, but Tojo's existence was kept quiet until he was two and could pass as a being of the human variety.