by C. L. Bevill
“Sit down you durn fool! Your privates are showing!” someone else yelled at Ralph.
Ralph spun around to face that person, and the gown lofted again. Bubba saw the Boomer parents covering the younger Boomers’ eyes. It didn’t work because there were too many children and not enough hands to cover all the curious eyes. Lissa was covering Mortimer II’s eyes with her hand while she peeked through her mother’s fingers.
As if Ralph’s outraged nakedness wasn’t enough, a group of elderly women who weren’t part of the Pegramville Women’s Club abruptly jumped out of their seats. (That was, as much jumping as a group of eighty-plus year olds were able to do; one of them had a walker and another two had canes. And those were the heavy duty canes with the four-legged bases.) In unison, as if they had practiced, they raised up signs and started yelling, “Bazooka Bob’s is a STRIP CLUB! No strip clubs! Stripping is IMMORAL! Ban the boobies!”
Bubba glanced at his mother who appeared faintly appalled. For some reason it sounded like something she would have done, but in this case, it wasn’t her handiwork, and Miz Demetrice had never been a prude.
A significant number of people booed and hissed at the last declarative. “Ain’t nothing wrong with boobies!” someone yelled from behind Bubba.
“Stripping ain’t immoral!” yelled one of the dancers. Bubba thought it was Tomi Knockers. “Go back to church! We’re not bad people! We pay our taxes! We tithe! I ain’t never went through the ten-items-or-less line at the grocery store with more than ten items!”
Ralph started to argue with one of the elderly protesters. Furthermore, Bubba didn’t recognize any of them, but one of their signs said they were from a nearby town called Nardle and a church that was also unknown to Bubba.
“GO BACK TO NARDLE!” yelled Forrest Roquemore, an elderly man who Bubba had met before in the pursuit of finding a missing Willodean Gray. Forrest, no relation to Ranger Forest Ranger, actually lived in Nardle, and since Bazooka Bob’s seemed to be one of his few enjoyments, he unmistakably didn’t like folks from his own town protesting it.
Of course, the whole shebang was starting to slip sideways like California will do after the big earthquake that might happen any day. Granny Goodbang and Queen Vajayjay came prancing out onto the stage carefully trotting in stiletto heels around the Jell-O-filled ring and the other exotic dancers. They held signs that said “UNIONIZE exotic dancing! Support your local stripping union!” “GIRL WALKERS!” yelled Queen Vajayjay, which was quickly echoed by Destiny and Diamond.
Some of the audience started to echo the sentiment. “GIRL WALKERS!” Kiki screamed. Dougie yelled, “GRRR WA!” because he was always the type to mumble. Leelah Wagoneer, who once worked at Bufford’s with Bubba, took up the mandate. At her table was Herbert Longboom, owner of the five and dime, and Edward Minnieweather, a local process server. The three of them bellowed in unison, “STRIPPER UNION! STRIPPER UNION! STRIPPER UNION!” They slapped the table with their palms in time with the words.
Bubba sighed and saw that Bam Bam sat down on the far end of the stage and put his face into his hands.
It could have been said that at that moment the excrement truly made physical contact with the oscillating air-distribution device, but that wasn’t exactly true because there was lots more to come.
Dan stood up, all seven feet and incremental change of him. People all over the room turned to stare at his rigid shape that fairly radiated outrage like a broken nuclear power plant. He glared at the stage as if something there had truly aggravated him. Bubba followed his gaze and settled on the dancer known as Jade Sparkles. Bubba hadn’t recognized her before that, but he did then, and he understood why Bam Bam had nervously asked about Trixiebelle’s tattoos. Jade Sparkles wore a glittering costume of brassiere and French cut undies. She had been tossing out handfuls of glitter on the nearby crowd but stopped straightaway as her eyes came into contact with Dan. Her hair was supposed to be auburn, but it was covered by a platinum-blonde wig embedded with more sparkling bits. In fact, her entire body glistened with some kind of oil embedded with glitter. Regardless, the glitter didn’t cover up the tattoos; on her stomach were an array of flowers surrounded by a flaming heart.
Jade Sparkles was Trixiebelle, who was supposed to be in Dallas with her sister. And Dan wasn’t supposed to go to a gentlemen’s club at all. Consequently, neither one was very happy. In fact, both were progressively getting more and more unhappy.
“Uh, Dan,” Bubba said. “Remember all that Buddhist stuff. Love your brother. Keep calm and the like.”
Dan growled at Bubba, and Bubba decided that he wasn’t getting in the middle of that. He knew Dan wouldn’t hurt Trixiebelle, but the table and chairs were in mortal danger of being smashed to smithereenies.
“TRIXIEBELLE!” Dan roared. At that moment, Ralph, all the elderly protesters, and all the exotic dancers shut up instantaneously.
Trixiebelle yelled, “We needed money, dumbass! It ain’t like I have a degree in underwater basket weaving or such! And you ain’t working!”
“Jobs is hard to get!” Dan bellowed. “But ain’t no need to be flinging your girl goodies about!”
“You think stripping is easy?” Trixiebelle bellowed back. “You’ve got lipstick on your cheek!”
“That was INNOCENT! How long has this been goin’ on?” Dan demanded.
“It’s an honest living, dammit!” Trixiebelle threw at him. “I am covered with sparkles! I even have sparkles on my—”
Dan snarled loudly and what Trixiebelle said was inaudible.
Someone behind Bubba murmured, “Where does she have sparkles?”
Bubba took a breath. He looked up. He thought that a meteor might come through the roof at any time. He might even have to go buy a lottery ticket. It was that kind of day. Furthermore, as interesting as this all was, it didn’t have anything to do with the Department of Homeland Security or the deceased John J. Johnson the Third.
Dan stepped back, and his chair hit the floor. There was a collective gasp as everyone unquestionably registered that not only was Daniel Lewis Gollihugh’s water getting ready to boil, but that there was no way to turn off the heat.
“Dan, podna,” Bubba said. “Ain’t like she did something illegal. She was just trying to support you both.”
“That’s right,” Trixiebelle said. “I was just trying to support us!”
Dan gritted his teeth and a sound like enamel cracking occurred. Somewhere an orthodontist was saying, “Hey.” “Stay out of this, Bubba!” he yelled.
“Okay,” Bubba said, raising his hands.
That was the point when Granny Goodbang dropped her union sign, reached into the plastic-covered ring, scooped up a mound of red raspberry Jell-O, and gleefully slung it at Dan. (Bubba knew that Granny was gleeful because she was cackling so hard she nearly bent over double.) The red-colored-gelatin glob hit him directly in the face, and just after that, there was another collective gasp of disbelief from the crowd.
The red stuff dripped from Dan’s face, and his mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water.
Granny said, “You’re nothing but a ridge-crawling, knuckle-dragging, swamp turd!”
“Hey!” Trixiebelle said. “No one talks to my man like that.”
Bubba was about to launch himself to his feet to prevent Dan from throwing the closest table through a wall when the front doors suddenly slammed open. Everyone stopped and insults died straightaway. Even Dan turned his head to see what else had just happened.
Big Joe Kimple stood at the door with gun drawn, pointing it at the floor. His lackeys, Smithson and Haynes bracketed him. They were backlit from the parking lot lights, and it was almost like a scene from a movie when something penultimate occurs just before the big event. The only thing that was missing was the dramatic music because the DJ had stopped playing tunes.
For a very long second, no one even breathed.
Big Joe sighed gustily and said in a voice that carried across the room, “I’m here for Ralp
h Cedarbloom. He done stole an ambulance. Ain’t worried about nothing else. Don’t care about all this here nonsense.”
“Just as well because this is out of your jurisdiction!” Miz Demetrice called. Bubba wished that he could have put a gag on his mother, but alas, she’d already spoken.
A clod of bouncy Jell-O hit Big Joe right between the eyes. Bubba looked over his shoulder to see Trixiebelle staring determinedly at the ceiling while whistling. Her hands were behind her back as if she was a schoolchild hiding the evidence.
“Ain’t no need for none of that,” Big Joe boomed, scraping red stuff from his features.
Of course, that was like inviting starving people to a banquet and then telling them they couldn’t eat. Bubba didn’t see who did the next one, but it hit Big Joe in his big gut, and Big Joe squealed like a hog that’s been poked in the posterior with a pitchfork.
Bubba saw the front row scrambling to put their ponchos on, although a few had already done so in anticipation of the show.
There was a volley of Jell-O that was launched across the bow of the room like a tremendous naval battle. The cascade arced like missiles being launched from the Korean peninsula and thuds echoed through the room as they hit various endpoints such as the top of Smithson’s head and the walls to the sides of the three Pegramville Police Department officers. One even hit Brother Jacob in the head as he was sitting at a table near the exit. Bubba winced because the Methodist pastor was probably at Bazooka Bob’s supporting the cause for Miz Demetrice.
Bubba looked and saw David throwing hand over hand of Jell-O in the direction of the law enforcement while he yelled, “Pew! Pew! Pew!” as if his hands were space lasers shooting at bad guys.
Gummi Worm was pelting Bam Bam with fistfuls of Jell-O while shrieking wordlessly.
The other dancers were aiming at the three local police officers.
It was inevitable that the Pegramville Police Department did not remain the only target of note for any length of time. Someone yelled, “FOOD FIGHT!” and the buffet was quickly employed as a source of ammo. Everyone became fair game.
Bubba saw his mother duck under her table. Miz Adelia rapidly followed, and he thought that action was a fine idea. Except that before he could follow suit, someone hit him in the face with a handful of mashed potatoes. He was going to need a special tool to get some of that out of his ears. That was followed by a volley of Jell-O from the stage as David yelled, “GET HIM, GIRLS! He’s got a white shirt on!”
Ralph jumped onto the stage and showed his derriere again as he fled for the stage door blatantly intent on utilizing the back exit. He slipped in Jell-O and slid about five feet before knocking over Tomi Knockers and Alotta Fagina. Then the three of them tangled up in a heap as each scrambled to regain their feet.
Bubba couldn’t look away.
Ralph made it to his feet again, looked over his shoulder, and made an “Eeep!” sound. Bubba glanced to where Ralph was looking and saw that Big Joe, Smithson, and Haynes had waded through half the room, although they were now liberally covered with red Jell-O, mashed potatoes, and pork chops. (No churros, Bubba lamented.) Ralph dove for the door, using the slippery quality of the Jell-O to slide about ten feet on his belly like a penguin on ice. He managed to knock over Cayenne Pepper who shrieked with outrage.
Bubba’s gaze went back to Big Joe, and he watched as a barrage of country fried steak and chicken wings nailed the Pegramville chief of police from head to toe.
“Some of that stings!” Big Joe protested.
Bubba’s eyes went back to the stage. Trixiebelle was dunking Granny Goodbang’s head into the pool of Jell-O when she caught sight of Dan. The large man finally escaped his state of shock and moved toward the stage. His wife yelped as he slipped in some of the mashed potatoes and fell heavily on three nearby people.
“CAYENNE!” someone yelled, and Bubba saw that it was Leslie the chef. “Are you hurt, mi amorcito, mi cielo?” His Texan accent had transmogrified into something from Latin America. Leslie shoved people aside to rush to Cayenne’s side. He jumped on the stage easily for a heavy man and took Cayenne in his arms, speaking Spanish to her all the while.
That was when the agents from the Department of Homeland Security melted in from the woodwork and arrested Leslie.
Nevertheless, it wasn’t before most of them were beaned mercilessly with handfuls of Jell-O and deep-fried okra.
Chapter 27
Bubba and the
Ending of Endings
Wednesday, August 23rd
The food fight died a natural death simply because everyone ran out of things to throw. Dan forgave Trixiebelle because she had defended him from Granny Goodbang, and once he calmed down, he thought that was just peachy. Big Joe and his boys arrested Ralph and handcuffed him to within an inch of his life, or within an eighth of an inch of his wrists. Everyone in the room dabbed and sponged away at their faces and bodies, but the Jell-O and various foodstuffs weren’t going to merely fall off. The Department of Homeland Security agents secured Leslie AKA the Book Man AKA General Buchman with wrist cuffs, leg cuffs, and waist cuffs, and went to remove him from the premises.
“Wait,” Bubba called to Agent Peterson. “Leslie is the guy you wanted?” Leslie didn’t look like he could be a terrorist. He had sounded like he was from Texas, although that aspect had vanished as soon as Cayenne had been knocked over. Then he sounded like he was from somewhere in South America.
“He’s a terrorist from Argentina,” Peterson said. “He’s wanted in ten different countries. He’s a bad, bad man. He dyed his hair and shaved his beard and mustache. Also he’s gained like, thirty pounds. It took us awhile to recognize him because we only have grainy shots of him, but it’s him.”
Leslie piped up. “I only wanted to retire here in rural Texas. I’m a good chef! I trained in Paris…Texas! Cayenne, I love you, mi amor!”
Bam Bam moved to Bubba’s side. “I reckon I should have checked his references better,” he remarked, as if hiring a terrorist by accident happened on a daily basis.
“I reckon,” Bubba agreed.
“Did Leslie kill your agent?” Bubba asked Peterson.
Peterson shrugged. “Maybe Leslie figured out that we were on to him. Took Johnson out before he got him.”
And then Leslie just stayed and continued to cook and make yummy foodstuffs? Bubba asked himself. That didn’t seem likely. In fact, it seemed less than likely.
Bubba was suddenly reminded that Leslie had looked familiar to him. He wondered if it was because he’d seen the same grainy photographs that Peterson had used, which were the ones that were broadcasted occasionally on the nightly news and likely displayed on the walls of Post Offices.
“No more shows for today?” Miz Demetrice asked Bam Bam.
Bam Bam glowered at the Snoddy matriarch. “Don’t you think there’s been enough, Miz D.?”
Miz Demetrice shrugged delicately. It was an act she was awfully good at performing. If Bubba had to put words to the action, they would have been “Up yours.” His mother was very, very good at saying that without actually using the specific words.
“Who’s goin’ to clean this up?” Bam Bam asked plaintively.
“Jell-O should be easy to clean,” Bubba opined.
“Ain’t really Jell-O,” Bam Bam said. “If you use real Jell-O, it melts into water in about five minutes. This is something else that lasts longer and costs a lot less than Jell-O. Hey, kid—” he called to one of the Boomer children— “don’t eat that. This Jell-O ain’t edible! Don’t want to be sued!” He muttered out of the side of his mouth, “Bin known to cause cancer in test mice, I do believe.”
Bubba halted his hand from sticking a fake Jell-O laden finger into his mouth. He heard, “BUBBA!” He glanced toward the door and saw Big Joe leading a triangular-shaped formation with himself in the front. Haynes on one side and Smithson on the other came next. In the middle of Haynes and Smithson, being dragged through copious amounts of food, was Ralph Cedarbloom.
As he walked, Big Joe ignored Ralph’s cries and read him his rights.
“You have the right to swing first,” Big Joe said. “Anything else you do can and will lead to a butt whomping.”
“BUBBA!” Ralph yelled.
“You have the right to a minister and an EMT present at your butt whomping,” Big Joe went on.
“Bubba, there’s something I need to tell you!” Ralph yelled. He dug his heels into the floor, and the hospital gown and robe wafted up again, revealing just about everything a proctologist would have seen in a regular visit. Several watching people made loud noises of distinct disapproval.
“If you don’t have a minister, then one will be appointed to you to read you your last prayer,” Big Joe concluded. Then he added, “Do you understand these rights as I’ve explained them to you?”
“It’s okay,” Ralph said. “Brother Jacob is right there. He’s my minister.” Brother Jacob used a napkin to scoop the rather sticky Jell-O like substance from his shirt and cast Ralph a doubtful glance.
Bubba caught up to them and asked, “What is it, Ralph?”
“You know that thing I tole you from before,” Ralph said even while Smithson and Haynes tugged at his arms.
“There was a list,” Bubba said. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“About who I done saw that night,” Ralph called over his shoulder.
“Shuddup,” Big Joe snarled.
“It was the one throwing Jell-O at Bam Bam,” Ralph said just before the doors shut.
The doors unexpectedly opened again and in came Willodean and Sheriff John. Both stopped when they caught sight of Bubba and everyone else who had been liberally soaked in red-raspberry fake Jell-O and the copious contents of the buffet. He peeled a chicken wing off his shoulder and dropped it to the floor.
Willodean watched the action with twitching lips. “I take it you didn’t duck.”