Bubba and the Curse of the Boogity

by C. L. Bevill

  There was a loud complaining noise and his mother obviously added to that person, “Well, you are.”

  “Ma,” he said again more loudly.

  “Now you’ve got my attention,” Miz Demetrice said. He could imagine her smoothing her white hair into place and attempting to regain any lost composure.

  “You spoke to highfalutin friends who might invest in the movie to keep it afloat,” he said.

  “I did?”

  “And they’re comin’ to Foggy Mountain tonight at 8:00 pm to see the film set,” he added. “It’s a big deal for shore, and it’s real important to the film on account of the whole caboodle goin’ south ifin they don’t invest.”

  “Tonight?” she repeated.

  “Tonight at 8:00 pm,” he reaffirmed. “It’s a secret. Eight. Secret. You.”

  Miz Demetrice didn’t respond for a long moment. Definitely his mother wasn’t stupid by any means. “So I shouldn’t tell people who might repeat it,” she said.

  “Of course not,” he said. “Then it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?”

  “Should I tell your wife?”

  “Good Lord, no, and ifin a group of folks dressed to the nines came around Foggy Mountain about 8:00 pm in Delmont Huckleberry’s limousine, then it would be a secret, too, right?”

  “Delmont Huckleberry rents that limousine out to high school students for prom night, and it’s from 1980. He also lets the funeral home use it, you know. Ifin someone was to use it, I’d have to spray it with Germ-X. A gallon of Germ-X.”

  “Delmont owes you a favor for the time you got his wife, Baylee, out of jail,” Bubba said.

  “The judge owed me, and it was simple vandalism for which Delmont paid,” Miz Demetrice snapped. “Three hundred seventy-six dollars and fifty-seven cents was all. It wasn’t like Baylee murdered anyone.”

  “Wasn’t that on one of the Pegramville Women’s Club nights? And wasn’t Baylee gambling with all y’all at the time? Wasn’t it a dare from one of the Mercer sisters?” Bubba asked politely. “Just to clarify.”

  “Does it have to be today?” his mother whined. “Today?”

  “Yes, today,” Bubba said. “Why do you ask?”

  His mother said a slew of swearwords that weren’t really swearwords. They included, motherforker, son of a damaged beetle, and fahrvergnügen, and in various arrangements. “8:00 pm and no later than 8:30, do you agree?” She said some more unusual swearwords that Bubba wasn’t aware that she knew because she generally did not swear.

  Miz Demetrice finished with, “Great fudging tuna fish!” She sighed loudly and in a manner that suggested that she was not happy with anything. “All right, anything else, child of my loins?”

  “Real important like that you keep that secret,” Bubba said. If he could have done the air quotes on the word secret, he would have, but he knew his mother understood.

  “I hope a camel poops on your head,” his mother said. “Really I do.” She disconnected, and Bubba was left with dead air. He absently stuck the phone in his pocket.

  Bubba glanced at Brownie, Dan, Thelda and Jesus. Jesus was blessing what they were doing. Thelda was avidly listening to Brownie, and Dan was staring at Bubba. A moment later the taller man abled over, obviously having heard all of this side of the telephonic conversation he’d just had.

  “I don’t reckon that 8:00 pm thing is a real secret,” Dan said.

  “It might not be,” Bubba said.

  Dan gestured at Brownie. “Are you for shore about this?”

  “I got to work with what I have,” Bubba said with gritted teeth, “else this goes on and on, and you know, I’m tired. I just want to go home, put my feet up, rub my wife’s back, and watch something on television that don’t have nothing to do with murders, dead bodies, or anything that makes me think.”

  “And et ice cream,” Dan added, chuckling.

  “I’ll be eting ice cream until Doomsday,” Bubba said.

  “Ifin it’s a not-secret,” Dan said, “then I think you should tell some of the biggest mouths in Pegramville.”

  “I already tole my mother,” Bubba said immediately.

  “Well, you’ve only got hours to git the word out, and you’ll need someone with a little bigger mouth.”

  Bubba stared at Dan.

  “I think you should call 9-1-1,” Dan suggested. “Them po-lice don’t like me much, but it ain’t them I’m thinkin’ about.”

  “You don’t reckon that would be too obvious?”

  “Obvious is as obvious does,” Dan said sagely, but Bubba was confused.

  “Oh!” Bubba said. “You mean Mary Lou Treadwell.” He nodded. “That would do it.”

  Dan rubbed his hands together. “Let’s put lipstick on this here pig.”

  Chapter 24

  Bubba and the Road to Purgatory,

  Which Wasn’t Really the Road at All

  It turned out that time passed at the drop of a hat. If Bubba had had a hat to drop, it would have dropped quickly, but he didn’t have one and he wouldn’t have dropped it if he had, so time was on its own passing quickly.

  Brownie was all too good at doing what he’d proposed, and Bubba had both helped and watched with a degree of trepidation. Brownie tied, twisted, wrapped, and engineered with the accomplished zeal of an expert’s expert. They’d even tested it on an unsuspecting Jesus, who turned out to have skipped wearing the jockstrap with the tiny crosses on it.

  “Oh, I could have done without seeing that,” Dan said as they all looked upward. “Even Buddha wouldn’t have wanted to see that. They do have underwear that goes with sheets. All kinds. There’s boxers, briefs, tighties, mankinis, jockstraps, and tangas.”

  Jesus shrieked loudly. “Who said you could do this to the son of the Lord? I shall smite thee! He shall smite thee! What’s a tanga?”

  Brownie grinned broadly as he let Jesus down. “I’ve been smitten before. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Plus, I have a whole new arsenal that I’ve created. That’s what happens when you have lots of time on your hands and access to the Internet. And a tanga is kind of like a G-string for guys except fancier. Guess how I know that?” He proceeded to free Jesus even while Jesus muttered several invectives and threats in biblical forms.

  Bubba didn’t want to guess how Brownie knew that factoid, and more importantly, he was getting hungry. He checked his watch and realized it was past the time when Henry said he would have the order delivered. He walked down to where the gate opened up to the dirt road leading up to the Hovious place. Thelda and Jesus trailed behind him while Jesus muttered about smiting and smitedness until Thelda said, “Thee shall let it go, clay-brained whey face!”

  Jesus was taken aback for a moment. He finally waved a hand over his face as if fanning it. “I don’t believe I’m clay-brained or whey faced,” he said, “but I’ll try to let it go. Can we nooot do that aaagain, Bubba?”

  “Not to you, anyway,” Bubba said. He was pleased to see that a car from My Fat Big Italian Pizza was parked at the gate as evidenced by the oversized, magnetized sign announcing its affiliation to the restaurant. The driver sat at the gate twiddling his thumbs, chewing bubble gum, and listening to ‘Sister Christian’ by Night Ranger playing on the car radio. The young man blinked at Bubba and, based on the way his body jerked, very nearly got back into his battered 80s-era Ford Mustang without leaving the order.

  “Piiizza,” Jesus said satisfactorily. “I shall turn the water into wine. Or maybe I should leave it as water because I’ve been somewhat dehydrated lately.”

  “Mark Evans,” Bubba said. “Thought you were working at the five-and-dime.”

  “That’s my other job when I’m not doing classes and them is starting soon,” Mark said in a nervous fashion. “Let me get the pies,” he said as he opened his door. He threw the driver’s seat forward and started pulling out the specialized carrying bags that held the order. The hood of the Mustang made a convenient area to set things while he pulled boxes from the insulated bags. He followed up
by extracting plastic bags full of bottled cokes and water. “That’s ten of them, plus wings, chocolate brownie pies, and drinks. Oh yes, Henry sent along cups, napkins, and plates so those are with the drinks in the plastic bags. We don’t have any plastic utensils, so you’ll have to use fingers, but the dessert is precut like the pizzas. So…bon appétit!”

  Bubba passed some of the boxes to Thelda and some to Jesus so that the bounty was divided among all of them. Then he slung the handles of the plastic bags over his arms and paused briefly to look at the deliveryman.

  Mark looked at where the dirt road disappeared into the woods. He craned his neck as if trying to see into the shadows. “Y’all see anything lately? There was that bit on the news and well, I saw it first because the guy who took the footage is my bestie.”

  Bubba remembered that Mark and Mike Holmgreen were two unlikely peas in a pod. “How did Mike just happen to be around at the right time?”

  Mark scratched the side of his head. “He got an anonymous tip. Someone texted him and asked if he wanted to get something that no one else had on digital. How do you suppose they knew that?”

  That was probably Marquita and/or Risley, Bubba thought. Setting it up so that someone else let it into the wide open. Wait til that comes out in the wash.

  Bubba waved at Mark as he climbed back into the Mustang and tried to start it. The click-click-clicking noise gave proof that he shouldn’t have been listening to the 80s station out of Dallas while the engine was off. Therefore, Bubba and Jesus put their food down in order to give the Mustang a push so that Mark could pop his clutch into second gear. That worked just fine, and the young man gunned the engine in a rush to get away from Foggy Mountain and from Bubba, too.

  Bubba and the others returned to the clearing and had a makeshift picnic. Then more work needed to be done. At one point Bubba offered to take the others back to wherever they needed to be (Dan, Thelda, and Jesus to the S.S. Stormspike and Brownie to the Snoddy Mansion) but all declined. Brownie was the only one who Bubba truly was concerned about, but the boy wouldn’t budge. (Stubbornness was a well-known Snoddy family trait.)

  Therefore, Bubba sent Dan and Jesus down to move his truck so that it wasn’t obvious that anyone was around the film set and the Hovious place. When they returned Dan said, “I found a little hunter’s trail to park your 3100 on, and there’s a dark blue Chevy Tahoe parked there. All hidden like. Maybe we already have company up here.”

  “No, I know who that one belongs to.” That was Hornbuckle’s vehicle, and he knew exactly where the former FBI agent was presently located. Bubba glowered. Obviously, she hadn’t retrieved her SUV because she was spending a mandatory 72 hours in Dogley’s psychiatric ward until the doctors there could determine her level of competency in the felonies she’d committed. (Thelda and Jesus might be persuaded to give her some pointers, but Bubba wasn’t going there.)

  That was one more thing to do on Bubba’s list. It was only right that he recover the vehicle and park it somewhere safe until Hornbuckle made it through the system. Otherwise, folks were going to come by and vandalize it or steal it. He could also tell Sheriff John about it and let Willodean’s boss deal with it. Later, he told himself.

  Brownie’s phone kept making its notification sound. The sound sounded like someone twice knocking at a door, and it began to irritate him. Finally, Bubba pulled the device out of his pocket and looked at it. There were thirty-five text messages from Virtna Snoddy, two from Demetrice Snoddy, two from Janie Gray Redgrave, and one from Pierce Nordwall who Bubba did not know.

  “Your mama is concerned,” Bubba said to Brownie. He looked at the two from his mother and saw that she was proceeding with the plan and thusly had convinced Delmont to allow them the use of the limousine.

  Brownie stuffed three pieces of chocolate brownie pizza into his mouth while he clearly thought about what to say to that. He finally said in a very innocent tone, “I can’t imagine why,” except it sounded like “Ah ayyn ahinne ai.”

  Thelda stared at Brownie with evident disgust. She passed him a napkin and said, “Thee art a pernicious dry cheese and a toad-spotted flap dragon, as well.”

  Brownie sneered eloquently while swallowing, which secretly impressed Bubba, although he would have never admitted it out loud. “Dang, that’s good dessert,” the boy said.

  “Should I call your mother?” Bubba asked Brownie, but mostly he asked it of himself. Should I call Brownie’s mother and git my metaphorical butt lashed into infinity? Should I just send her a text and say everything’s peachy keen and hope for the best? More importantly, should I ask if Virtna kin track me down? He looked at the iPhone with some alarm. Isn’t there a doohickey that shows where the phone is located?

  Brownie shook his head. “You should just text her. Let me have the phone, so I kin disable the GPS part before we have company besides the kind you want. Ifin my ma shows up, the Boo might flee to South America.” He added in a near mumble, “I might go with him.”

  Bubba handed over the phone with such speed that he nearly dropped it. All this technology made him get a headache. Give him a good book from the library and all was just peaches and cream. (Not ice cream.) However, thinking of ice cream reminded him about Willodean and the fact that he hadn’t called her in about two hours.

  “Great! My best friend, Pierce, has the mumps combined with head, foot, and mouth disease, and he can’t attend school for a whole month! Wow, why cain’t I git two diseases at once?”

  “Dan,” Bubba said, “kin I borrow your phone?”

  “And Janie’s here!” Brownie said loudly. “Kin we go git Janie?”

  “No,” Bubba said. “Ain’t got time for that. Plus, her mother will kill me. So will yours, but I think I kin run faster than Virtna.”

  Dan produced a Samsung Galaxy S9 from a jeans pocket. “Don’t break it, Bubba,” he said. “‘Forgiveness is an aptitude of the strong,’” he quoted. “Gandhi.”

  “I should forgive you for letting me use your phone?” Bubba asked, mildly confused. It was all well and great that Dan was so committed to his religion because it truly seemed to keep the big man on the straight and narrow, but it was a perplexing religion and sometimes Bubba didn’t know what to say. However, that was normal with Bubba.

  Dan smiled and showed the gap between his front teeth. “Just call Willodean before she sends out the cavalry and some other people we don’t wanna meet.”

  Dan unlocked the phone and handed it to Bubba. Bubba pressed the digits for Willodean’s cellphone. She answered with, “Dan? What are you all up to? Have you seen my husband? You’re not at Bazooka Bob’s again, are you?”

  “It’s me, darlin’,” Bubba said. “I’m gittin’ things done here at Foggy Mountain. How are you?”

  Willodean was silent for a long moment so long that Bubba said, “Willodean?”

  “Yes, I’m here,” Willodean murmured. “There are all kinds of whispers about something happening out there around 8:00. Like there’s some kind of VIPs coming through, people who might invest in the movie.”

  “Who tole you that?”

  “My sisters are here. They heard from a police lieutenant who happens to be friends with Parthenia Wilson. She was a temp 9-1-1 dispatcher but John hired her permanently when we got some extra funding. I don’t know who told Parthenia. Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Is it on Facebook?”

  “Maybe, but I haven’t looked for a while.” Willodean trailed off into an uncertain quiet that bothered him.

  “You ain’t worried about me, are you?” Bubba asked anxiously. “I don’t reckon I’m in any danger. The Boo ain’t et no one in years, mebe decades, and I think those were just rumors. How many times have I bin here without being et?”

  “It isn’t that,” Willodean said. “I suppose you kind of forgot something.”

  “Your birthday? Our anniversary? Some childproofing I forgot?” Bubba was aghast. What hadn’t he done? How could he make it right and soonest? “I’ll do it r
ight away. I swear it!”

  Willodean giggled at his evident sincerity. “No, it isn’t that. And I think that everyone kind of deserves this, as they wanted you to solve Marquita’s problem. They didn’t really think it through, did they?”

  Bubba didn’t know the right answer to that. “I don’t imagine they did,” he said, and he honestly thought that sounded pretty good. “Tell your sisters to take some ice cream with them. As a matter of fact, take some for all them people they arrest, too. Ifin they don’t like Häagen-Dazs, then something be wrong with them. And I should be home no later than 9:00, I think. We ate pizza. You want I should bring some home for you? Or I might have time to bring you something now. Also, I could have My Big Fat Italian Pizza delivery something to you. That kid Mark Evans will carry it right up to your room ifin I ask him nicely. He might even dance a jig while he’s at it.”

  Willodean was silent again. She made a little noise that was part sigh and part groan. That little noise sent a chill down Bubba’s spine like a knife that had been left in the freezer overnight and then stuck into his back. “Willodean, honey?”

  “9:00 sounds fine, darling,” she said. “I’ll call this number if I need you, all right?”

  It was Bubba’s turn for silence. He was trying to understand if Willodean was sending him a message. “I’ll come right now,” he said instead.

  “No!” she said immediately. “Everything is fine. Precious is lying on my feet, and Anora is bringing up iced tea and Häagen-Dazs. I ate some barbeque from The Hogfather’s, and it’s sitting pretty well on my tummy. Hattie and Mom are helping your mother out so they’re around. Dad just ran out for ice. Even Janie’s here. She wants to know where Brownie is and why she wasn’t invited to participate in the ‘secret’ party.”

  Bubba blinked. It was just as he had said before. If Janie helped to figure out the whole mystery of the Boogity-Boo, then her mother, Anora, who was a police officer, would likely shoot him and bury him in a shallow grave. “Brownie’s okay,” he said lamely. “Just fine as a matter of fact. You wouldn’t believe how much pizza that boy kin put away. I’ll bring him back with me unlessin’ Virtna finds us first.”