by Robert Ocala
butcherin' hogs either. So what'd be your dark side, Ms. Leek?" Jeez, listename. Rappin' here like I knowed her all my life. Willie looked down at his cup. Empty. He held it out, gave her his sad waif look. "Got any more, Ma'am?"
"You've had enough, young'un. You kin barely keep your eyes open. Git some sleep. We'll talk later."
No hint of treachery in her voice. No phone either to call the cops that I can see. An' I am beat. An' the old bags real understandin', almost sympathetic even. So, what the Hell, take a chance? Catch some zzzzzzs, then out knife and to work.
Yeah. No way Chooch an' Bolo are having it this good--warm, fed, dryin'--wherever the hell they are. Gutsy guys though. Give 'em that; balls of brass. An' nerves of steel when the warden braked to ask the gate guard how his family was. Excruciating minutes spent crushed together in his trunk, breathin' in each other's faces, still as church mice waiting out all the palaver. No hesitation holding the warden either while I slit his throat when the dumb bastard stopped for gas. Thank God for self service. Not a soul out in the storm. But brains, three convicts traveling together, stupid, stupid, stupid. An' Bolo wantin' to hitch a ride dumber yet, roads being the first place they'd look. Splitting up was the only way. Odds were bad enough as it was. Traveling alone one might make it.
Good lucks all around and into the woods he'd run. At first he felt grateful for the storm. Rain covered tracks, washed out scents, made dogs useless. But after a while, trudging through sucking mud, soaked to his socks, feet squishing in his shoes, getting slapped silly by wet whippy branches; brambles tearing at--
"Suiee, piggy, piggy, piggy."
Huh?
"Suiee, piggy, piggy, piggy."
There it is again.
"Up, Willie!"
Willie opened his eyes to see he'd slumped over, fell asleep cheek to rug. And the room?something about it looks-- The lamps are out, Jesus, candles flickerin' all over the place. What the hell?? And what's this I'm hearin', something about evil things in robes of doom?
He strained to catch the words:
"And round about my house the glory that once bloomed, is but a saddened story now of bygone times? entombed.
"I said up Willie."
Same voice, more harsh maybe, but coming from?? "Where are you?" Dark shape raising a candle to face.
"Right here, Willie."
Jeez, could this be? Long white hair fanned out over shoulders. Pink cheeks now green, craggy as a walnut. Nose so hooked it almost touches her lips. All the old bat needs to complete the picture is a wart and broom. Still, the eyes look the same. Am I dreamin', maybe having one of those unexpected trips junkies get from dropping too much acid? I was warned this could happen, suddenly everything looking weird. But these trips always ended so?.
What the hell, enjoy the--"Oww!"--a boot right in my ass. The bitch!
"I said, up!"
Oh, lady; when my turn comes?. But for some strange reason Willie felt compelled to obey. He rolled onto his feet, and that, too, felt strange. What the?? I'M standin' an' the rug's just a foot under my eyes. He looked down at his legs, squat little animal legs, then at his feet. Jesus,hooves? Some crazy trip this is. Then he noticed his skin, all bristly, and realized he was naked as a jay bird. No more LSD for you, buddy boy--ever!
"Come along, Willie."
Opening the back door; wavin'me out.
Down off the porch steps Willie waddled, grunting with the effort. Trotting along behind swishing black robe across muddy back yard.
At least the rain's stopped; sliver of a moon out now.
"Keep going, Willie; into the barn."
Willie waddled through the wide open door, watched the old hag touch her candle to an oil lamp; light slowly rising revealing stalls, hanging tack, dirt-packed floor.
"Set your hind feet in that there loop of chain on the ground, Willie."
What, ya wanna play games now? Crazy old bat. Oh, man, when my turn comes?. Willie waddled his hind feet around into the loop.
Suddenly he felt his ankles clamped, his hind end being yanked up off the ground. Yieee, pain! Whirr of motor, clank of chain rattling through pullies, and Willie found himself swaying upside down two feet over hay-strewn dirt.
Fuck this game. "Oink!" he squealed. Huh? Did that come from me? Am I trippin' I'm a pig? If this is the way the old bat treats her pigs she don't deserve to have any. Oh, will you ever pay, lady. At least she's stopped my swingin'. What now, kickin' a washtub under me? Does she think I'm gonna york?
Then Willie caught the glint of a blade coming toward his throat, and roaring back out of memory came: "Gracious, I'd never kill a person; butchered some pretty big hogs though."
"Oink," he shrieked, "oink, oi--"
It was a sunny eight-thirty by the time Aurora had washed up and started breakfast. She'd just taken the eggs out of her refrigerator when the knock came.
Tarnation, now who can that be? She strode to the door and peeked through its hole. Gracious, a scruffy lookin' policeman.
Curious, she tugged the door open and peered up; "Yes, officer?"
The officer smiled down at the pink-cheeked old lady. Face fit for a cake commercial if ever I saw one. "Excuse my appearance, ma'am,"--arms spreading wide to acknowledge his disheveled appearance--"been out in the woods all night tracking an escaped murderer from Mattawan."
"That prison for the criminally insane?"
"Yes'm."
"Heavens!"
"Orange threads on thorns indicate he came this way;"--peeking over her bun into the living room--"see or hear anything suspicious last night?"
"Sorry, can't help ya there, officer, but if you're of a mind ta eat I'll fix ya some ham an' eggs."
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Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, won't you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?
Thanks!
Robert Ocala