by David Kersey
Trip. That was the third generation nickname given to Daniel David Demerit. The second generation nickname was Triple D, but that handle was too much effort to say for his gangsta buddies in L.A. Trip, much easier. For most of his seventeen years he was called Danny, and he hated that. He hated a lot of things, the second most of which was the annual visit to his grandmother’s house in the hill-jack backwoods of Kentucky. A full week of absolutely nothing that interested him, including his grandmother, who he called mawmaw. He hated the week in Kentucky more than he hated school. At least he quit school soon after beginning ninth grade. He would love to quit Kentucky, but it was court ordered that he stay with mawmaw while his absentee, strung out, no count mom did community service time back in Trip’s hood. Trip wanted to kill his mom, and had it all planned out when he got ratted out by his own dad. The dad was hated too, but dad provided a slummy roof over Trip’s head. L.A. thought it best that Trip get out of Dodge while mom was close by.
Mawmaw was actually better known around McCreary County as Beulah Moorehead. No one called her mawmaw other than the creepy, Goth looking, leather bound slime bucket that came around once a year. People made sure they crafted a way of avoiding the black lipped, spiked hair demon, and Beulah too, during the week long embodiment of terror in their midst. That was a shame, really. Beulah was an upright, God-fearing Baptist, and a long running stalwart of the 12:15 Sunday Pizza Hut clan. The kind folks of Whitley City avoided Trip like he carried the bubonic plague. Sadly, Beulah skipped church and Pizza Hut for the one Sunday during her grandson’s annual visit.
Anything to do with church, with God, was what Trip hated the absolute most. No holds barred…..that false institution, that archaic abomination was loathed more than anything else could possibly be. He hated mawmaw for hanging on to the revulsive superstitions of those that clung to the sweet by and by nonsense. You’re born; you die. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. Lame. At least America was waking up to the real truth by disallowing manger scenes, and God references in public buildings, and the like. He would do his part when the time was right. He wouldn’t shoot up a school. No, it would be a packed church house. His time would come. His Lords of Doom bros would help him get what he needed to get it done. Just a matter of time.
He stood behind Beulah’s overstuffed chair that had prehistoric doilies supporting her liver spotted arms, watching mawmaw lean forward to better idolize some overweight chick talk to some hippie throwback. “Oh, Danny, isn’t he wonderful? Would you look at him? He lives right here in our midst.”
He could snap her neck in a nanosecond. It would be so easy. On TV, the hippie freak was making a plea to young, angry people, offering the typical televangelist deceit by holding up a moonshine jar. It was soooo Kentuckian. NIL, yeah, that’s about right, nothing, nil, nada. Mawmaw hung on his every word. Disgusted, Trip went to his room and clamped on his earphones. He was done for the night. Three more awful days and nights to go.
Beulah looked behind her chair. Danny must have gone to his room. She copied down the toll free number shown on her television, then stepped over to the wall phone and dialed the number. She was determined to help poor Danny get his life in better shape. She would get some of that NIL even if it killed her.
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After changing into more suitable work clothes, Joshua, Namanda, and Shreya busied themselves in the workroom. Joshua didn’t get much work done. His phone rang incessantly.
“You done good, kiddo.” Adele seemed in better spirits than earlier. “It was me that got Pat to put in her two cents. Pretty darn good show. And listen, it wasn’t even going to show here, but they pre-empted what they had planned at WLEX and ran your interview an hour later than in Somerset. That’s not all. Louisville and Cincinnati also picked it up and ran with it. Joshua, there was no mention of a price per jar on the show. Surely you don’t intend to keep giving it away?”
“That’s incredible. All I can say is, we don’t have enough product to branch out any further. I am trying to make more now but my old phone is buzzing right now as we speak. As far as the price, I have called the station and quoted them a price of twenty dollars per jar. I apologize for the omission, but the show concluded much faster than I realized it would.”
“Call me later. My phone is ringing too. Get to work.” Adele was gone in a flash.
Joshua answered the incoming call before it disappeared.
“Hello, is this Joshua Meadors?” Soft voice, southern, low pitched.
“It is, to whom am I speaking?”
“My name is Jackie Bingham. I work for the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Surely, how can I help you?”
“Earlier today an email was sent to us from your lieutenant governor up there in Kentucky. It eventually landed on my desk, and I’ve tried to call you before this, but got no answer.”
“I was probably driving. I don’t take calls when I’m behind the wheel.”
“Good for you. Seriously. The email indicates you’ve developed something that might help us out with a few issues we are currently facing. You may know, because all the major networks jumped on it tonight, that the avian flu is starting to rear its ugly head in a few states.”
“Yes, I know about it.”
“Do you think you’ve got something that can help us out?”
“I certainly do. We’ve already had testimony that it may have played a role in an avian flu recovery up here in Somerset, Kentucky.”
“I already know about that. Believe me, we are on the phone with everybody and anybody with flu like indications. You are talking about, let’s see here, Charlie Mayes. He was in isolation at Lake Cumberland Hospital, then released today. So, what is it that you have? Tell me about it.”
“How do I get an email sent directly to you? I will send you a file that will include what you will need to examine. Then call me back if you’re still interested.”
Jackie provided her private email. “I will do that. How soon can I expect it?”
“Ten minutes or less.”
“Fantastic. Thank you Joshua. I hope we have something to talk about a little later.”
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