“Keep goin’, Storky… I’m listenin’.”
“Okay… do you know what fluoride is, Willy?”
“It’s that shit they put in toothpaste, right?… gets ridda bad breath an’ makes your teeth white or somethin’… right?”
“You’re close, Willy… that’s a good guess. Fluoride is a chemical compound that’s been known to reduce cavities. That’s why they put it in toothpaste.”
“But wha’s this floor-ride got to do with th’ Packywhack? I don’t get it.”
“I’m coming to that part… so, in addition to putting fluoride in toothpaste, some places also put it in the water supply… in very small amounts… and PAGWAG believes that this fluoride, in addition to cellular radiation, is threatening our water.”
His frustration growing, the ex-con frowns, then interrupts, “But what’s wrong…”
“Hang on, Willy, I’m getting to the weird part. Do you have any idea what one of the main sources of fluoride is?”
“How would I know where that shit comes from?”
“Tea… fluoride is found in tea, Willy.”
“TEA! I never drink that crap… I don’t drink nuthin’ but coffee… instant Maxwell House…”
“Uh, yeah… stay with me, okay? So what PAGWAG plans to do is dump thousands, hundreds of thousands, of tea bricks into the Colorado River, which would then greatly increase the fluoride content of L.A.’s water.”
Displaying a look of pained confusion, the old man stammers, “But… but why the fuck would they do that? I mean, the Packywhacks are all about clean water… right?”
“You got it! That’s what’s so weird about this, Willy. PAGWAG is both in favor of pure, clean water AND wants to pollute the Los Angeles water supply with massive amounts of fluoride.”
Graves’ expression is one of total dismay, “But, but…”
“I know it’s confusing, Willy, but it’s all spelled out in PAGWAG’s manifesto right here on their Facebook page. From their perspective, the population of Los Angeles is primarily made up of celebrities and other parasites, who they see as scum… the underbelly of our culture, but they also understand that this celebrity class is highly influential. Okay, here’s the deal… while a little fluoride is good for your teeth, too much of it creates a condition called dental fluorosis, which makes your teeth turn brown. So the purpose of this fluoride contamination is to give BAD TEETH to everyone in L.A., and once that happens, the parasites will support PAGWAG’s agenda of cleaning up and protecting the water supply. I mean, their plan is completely demented, but it’s not without a certain twisted logic. Think about it—whoever heard of a celebrity with brown teeth? It’s kind of fascinating.”
“But you’re gonna report ’em, right? They can’t get away with this shit… can they?”
“Well, they haven’t actually done anything illegal yet, but even so, there’s really nothing to worry about. It’s like I said before, PAGWAG’s agenda may be a little more creative than most of the whack jobs out there, but in one sense, they’re all the same… they never have any money, so they’re ineffective. Unbalanced, sure, and maybe even crazy, but they’re ultimately harmless.”
Continuing his story, Hendricks said the next day they pulled their final robbery.
Stopping outside a liquor store, Willy speaks, “This shud’n take long, kid. Just wait out here with the motor runnin’ an’ I’ll be right back.” The tech worker watches as the old man struggles to remove himself and his oxygen tank from the car, then, standing outside the door, he pulls out his pistol, takes a deep breath and enters. No sooner does the ex-con disappear inside the small building than a huge pickup drives up and parks next to the Honda. As the young tech worker watches, a very large, overweight man exits the truck and immediately enters the liquor store no more than sixty seconds behind Willy Graves.
Sensing trouble, Hendricks leaves the car, its motor still running, approaches the store and peeks through the window. Peering into the dark interior, he’s horrified to see the big man standing near the door pointing a gun at Willy across the room; Graves is positioned by the cash register, his pistol also drawn and aimed at the clerk. Shouting voices can be heard through the window, but the sound is too muffled to be clearly understood.
Anxious, Hendricks pauses for a moment then quickly retrieves his iPod and headphones from the Honda. Convinced that the man hasn’t seen him, the tech worker places the headphones on his ears, playing the music loud enough that a distinct buzz can be heard by anyone nearby. The music is “Constantinople,” a song by The Residents, and Hendricks immediately begins to sing along as he enters the liquor store, blithely swaying to the music. “Here I come, Constantinople, here I come, Constantinople…”
As the tech worker enters the room, both Willy and the big man are screaming, each demanding that the other surrender and drop his weapon. Terrified of finding himself in the line of fire, the clerk cowers behind the counter. Deliberately looking away from the ongoing conflict, Hendricks appears oblivious to the tense standoff as he casually approaches a large display of liquor bottles still singing, “All the leaves are off of the oak and all the sheep have followed…”
As soon as the big man sees the tech nerd, he yells, “HEY BUDDY! HEY! THERE’S A ROBBERY GOING ON! WE NEED YOUR HELP!” Seemingly unaware, the content screener sings louder as he casually picks up two half-gallon bottles of bourbon and heads toward the checkout counter, “HERE I COME, CONSTANTINOPLE, HERE I COME…” Increasingly tense and frustrated, the fat man continues screaming, “HEY! HEY BUDDY! LOOK OUT! WE GOT A SITUATION HERE! HEY! BUDDY! HEADS UP!”
Looking up as he nears the anxious man, Hendricks, pretending to suddenly grasp the situation, stops singing and cries out, “OHMYGOD!! WHAT’S HAPPENING!!” The tech worker then drops the liquor bottles, causing the glass to shatter around the big man’s feet, soaking his pants and shoes with bourbon. Shocked, the fat man jumps back, losing his balance and falling awkwardly, giving Ted Hendricks just enough time to lunge forward and grab the man’s gun.
Shaking as he holds the pistol above the fallen fat man, the neophyte gunman screams, “STAY DOWN! UNDERSTAND!?! DOWN ON THE FLOOR! FLAT!” then raises the revolver and fires it, creating a deafening roar and shattering three liquor displays. At the same time, the recoil from the pistol causes Hendricks to lurch backwards, tumbling into yet another stack of bottles, scattering booze and broken glass around the room. Jumping to his feet, the tech worker quickly regains his composure, aiming the gun at the big man and yelling, “DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, FATSO!” Stunned, the big man lays quivering on the floor, his clothes speckled with blood and drenched in whiskey.
Standing on the other side of the room, both Wilmer Graves and the store clerk watch in stunned silence as the unexpected scene chaotically unfolds before them. After a moment of shock and awe, Willy quickly regains his composure and shouts, “WOOHOO! STORKO! YOU THE MAN! WOOHOO!”
Shocked by his own bravado, Hendricks’ reaction is noticeably restrained compared to Willy’s ecstatic response: “Uh, well, something, uh, had to be done, Willy. I mean, I looked through the window and… well, you were in a hell of a mess.”
Moments later, the pair is speeding away as the adrenalin induced by their near disaster begins to ebb. Still shocked at his comrade’s audacity, Willy chuckles, “Stork, my man, where you been hidin’ all them balls, dude? Woowee! You shudda seen the look on that fat guy’s face when you snatched his piece an’ then KABOOM!”
Still reeling from stress, the young tech worker is tense and edgy. Regardless, he can’t suppress a slight smile as he responds, “Well… you said to let them know who’s in charge.”
Remembering their stickup of the formal wear shop, Graves laughs, filling the car with his raucous heehaws. “Yessiree! You done that, Storky… you sure as hell done that!”
“I felt kind of sorry for the fat guy though. I mean, you were robbing that liquor store and he was just trying to help. He probably goes in there all the time.”<
br />
The Honda grows quiet for several minutes as they drive along the interstate looking for a motel. Graves finally breaks the silence, but when he does, the tone and subject of his words have changed dramatically. “Hey Stork, I keep thinkin’ about those Packywhacks, and you know… I don’t like ’em, no siree. I mean it just ain’t right to be fuckin’ around with folks’ water.”
Dusk quietly announces the end of the day as lights twinkle on and the sun slowly disappears. Reflecting the mood of his companion, Hendricks speaks, “I agree with you, Willy, but like I said, they’re probably harmless… nuts maybe, but harmless nuts.” He pauses for a moment, remembering something, then continues, “That reminds me… I’ve been checking out the PAGWAG website and I think their base might be right around here somewhere.”
“No shit! Maybe we should find ’em… straighten ’em out a little.” Willy holds up his pistol and smiles.
“Well, I don’t know about that… They’re fairly secretive so I don’t exactly know where they are, but they do mention ‘The Kingdom’ several times and they also refer to some nearby landmarks, like Greer Spring in the Ozarks.”
“So you really think the Packywhacks are close by?”
“I think there’s a good chance. A few years ago Callaway County, less than fifty miles away, got a lot of attention for having the third best drinking water in the country, and… the nickname for Callaway County is ‘THE KINGDOM of Callaway.’ I don’t know but it seems like the kind of place where you might find a group like PAGWAG.”
“But what about Beasley? I thought you were gonna talk about where he fits into all this.” The kid’s story was interesting, but he seemed to be losing focus.
“Just hang on, okay? I’m getting to it but I wanted to give you some background first.”
Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut… I mean, he was talking and that was great, but I didn’t have a clue as to where this was going. We sat in silence for a minute, then I remembered something that had been bothering me. “Ted… I hate to change the subject but something you said earlier keeps bugging me. I know this has to be a sensitive subject so if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay but… I gotta ask.”
Since I interrupted him, Hendricks had grown quiet again. A moment later, his eyes rose to meet mine. The kid was smart. The odd expression on his face made me wonder if he already sensed what was coming. Speaking slowly and deliberately, the baby-faced young man replied, “So… what? What is it?”
I took a deep breath and jumped in. “Uh, well, it’s about your girlfriend, Margo. I mean, what makes you think she would fuck a chimp? She’s fucking gorgeous… the most beautiful woman I ever saw. If she wants to get laid, there’s no way she has to…”
The sight of Hendricks’ utterly crestfallen face made one thing devastatingly clear: I had blindsided him like an anvil abusing an ant. I felt like a jerk… but then I’d never let that get in my way before. “Look, Ki…, uh, Ted, I’m sorry if I upset you… if it’s too painful, don’t talk about it.”
As Ted Hendricks slumped back on his bunk, shadows surrounded his face making him look much older than his twenty-eight years. He pondered my question briefly before finally responding, and when he did, his voice was slow and cautious, “No… I probably should talk about it. I haven’t spoken of this to anyone else and…” As the kid begin to choke up, I reached out and touched his shoulder, but he shrugged me off. “It’s okay… no, it’s not okay, but I need to get it out, even if it’s just to a jerk like you.” He paused again, staring hard at me, then continued, “You see, Margo has always liked animals… okay, considering what I already told you, that has to sound ironic but she REALLY likes animals. I’m sure you remember Archie, our chihuahua… well, sometimes I thought she loved that goddam runt way more than me… and then there was her hamster… and her turtle… and her parakeets… I knew she loved me, but the competition for her attention was fierce… but when she aimed her love light at me, it was like sitting in the sun on a rainy day… and when that happened, I was THE ONE… the ONLY one… and nothing else mattered… but then the light began to dim… I don’t know why, but she grew distant… detached… unavailable… Margo is a lab assistant for a pharmaceutical company that experiments on chimps… she’s totally conflicted about her work. She hates seeing the animals in cages, separated from their mates and family groups, but she also thinks it’s great that someone like her can be there to take care of them, make their lives better… but then lately… around the time she grew distant, she began to talk about this one chimp… he’s a full-grown male and she said there was just something really special about him… a kind of warmth and intelligence… she said she could see it in his eyes… eventually, she talked about the goddam monkey so much, I started feeling kind of jealous… OF A FUCKING CHIMPANZEE!” Composing himself, Hendricks paused again, then continued, “Then that video showed up on YouTube. Okay, I know you can’t totally recognize the woman… but who would shoot a video like that… and then post it on YouTube… and the camera’s static, like it’s on a tripod, so she must have shot it herself, BUT WHY?… I know I’m obsessing on this but I can’t help it… I can’t help it…”
At this point I was pretty much in shock myself. When Hendricks first told me about Margo and the monkey, I couldn’t believe it. I almost cracked up, but the kid was serious. Now, hearing Hendricks talk, he almost had me buying it. I mean, this was fucking nuts. I wanted to offer some sympathy or support or whatever, but what do you say: hey-Ted-I’m-so-sorry-to-hear-that-your-girlfriend’s-bonking-a-dumbfuck-chimp? Somehow that seemed a little inappropriate, but I needed to say something, so I blurted out, “So the whole deal with the spycams was all about clarity… finding out, one way or another?”
“It… it was the only thing I could think of. I mean, I couldn’t confront her on it. What if it’s not her? She’d never speak to me again… and I couldn’t blame her.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, each mulling his own unique and twisted version of reality, when the back door of the jail suddenly opened. It was lunchtime as served by Deputy Dawg. Things were looking up.
Missouri is not noted for its jailhouse cuisine, but the break was welcome. My head was still swimming. The freakish affair continued to tease my mind but sharing more feelings with Hendricks on the subject of primate interbreeding was a no-go. Maybe I could point him back toward Beasley. “So, Ted… did it turn out that PAGWAG was headquartered around there?”
“Huh? Oh yeah.” With little hesitation, he took me back to a few hours after the liquor store robbery.
The young techie and his ex-con companion are driving through a small town when Willy spots a grocery store. “Hey Stork, let’s stop at this Piggly Wiggly. I could dig some barbecue chips and Dr. Pepper.” It’s the middle of the day and the parking lot of the small shopping center is busy. After looking for a spot near the store, Hendricks finally pulls into one next to a conspicuous and oddly painted car. With darkly tinted windows and covered with a desert camo design, the stretch Hummer is so striking that Ted and Willy are compelled to take a closer look, and as they do, both men are immediately struck by a single distinguishing feature: a bold PAGWAG logo emblazoned across the car’s door. Riveted by the now familiar design, they look at each other in silence, their mutual recognition obvious.
Willy Graves is the first one to speak, “That’s it, ain’t it? The Packywhacks… they’re here.” He looks around suspiciously. “What’re we gonna do?”
“I don’t know, Willy. I mean… what can we do?”
Standing together in the parking lot, they watch as a third man, slowly pushing a shopping cart, advances toward them. The man, appearing to be in his mid-fifties, wears a Desert Storm jacket and pants, combat boots, and wraparound sunglasses, while protruding between his lips is a camo-colored cigarette holder. Completing the look is a black beret covering his freshly cropped military haircut; a government-issue M1911A .45 caliber automatic pistol conspicuously rests in a holster
strapped to his waist. Drawing closer, the man inserts a cigarette into the holder, and as he does, the clenching of his jaw reveals a set of dark brown and mottled teeth. Standing next to Ted’s ten-year-old Honda, the pair continues to watch as the man opens the rear hatch of the Hummer, places his groceries inside, then turns back to face the smaller car. With a look of disdain frozen on his face, he steps up to the Japanese car, strikes a match on its roof and lights the cigarette. Pausing to inflate his chest, he then snorts, spits in the general direction of the small car, climbs into the Hummer and drives away, never acknowledging the two men still standing in the parking lot.
Willy is the first to react: “C’mon… we gotta follow that fucker.”
Hendricks quickly slides in behind the steering wheel as Willy struggles into the seat next to him, laboring to move the oxygen bottle onto the floor in front of him. As soon as the car door closes, the old man yells, “Let’s go, Storky! The asshole’s gettin’ away!”
Shifting the Honda into gear, the young tech worker pulls out of the parking lot and speeds off in the direction of the Hummer. Soon the large and highly visible SUV can be seen up ahead. Maintaining a discreet distance, they follow for several miles until they pass a sign proclaiming “Kingdom City.” A few miles past the tiny village, they watch as the Hummer turns in to a dirt driveway and stops, allowing a large iron gate to open. Moments later the car disappears, the gate closing behind it. Stopping just outside, they survey the ominous and clearly secured compound surrounded by a razor wire-topped chain-link fence. Arching across the entrance is a large sign loudly displaying a now familiar logo, PAGWAG.
The Brickeaters Page 13