Kenneth Tingle - Strangeville (5 page)

I was doubly disoriented. Not only was I just waking up, but I couldn’t remember where I was. Daylight was just breaking and the room started to become visible around me. I could hear something scratching around on the floor next to me, moving closer.

“Cock-a-doo-del-doo!” boomed through the room, reverberating off the walls and through my skull. It was a big, menacing rooster and he was staring at me lying on the hay. I didn’t move and this seemed to anger him, like I was supposed to jump to attention at his command. “Cock-a-doo-del-do” thundered again, making me wince.

The bastard was only a few feet away and he moved closer, staring me in the eyes, glaring, like some sort of showdown in an old cowboy western. I thought he was going to peck my face with his beak. “Cock-a-doo-del-doo!”

“Get out! Go mount a hen or something,” I screamed back.

We were interrupted by the sound of boots coming up the stairs, and then Leatherface burst into the room,

“Git yer arse out of bed! Yer wastin’ daylight!”

Between him and the rooster, I felt like I was going to snap.

“You call this a bed? It looks like a pile of hay to me. What’s up with that rooster? Is he on steroids or something?”

“Yer lucky he didn’t peck yer eyes out an have em fer breakfast. Now git yer arse up before ah steps on yer head.”

I stood up sluggishly and brushed the hay off of my clothes.

“Can I take a shower first?”

“A what? Ya must be kiddin’ wit yerself. There’s some vittles on the kitchen table. Ya gut two minutes ta finish em and be in the truck wit a shovel.”

I went down through the barn into the kitchen. There was a bowl with some kind of oatmeal stuff sitting there, a spoon next to it, and a fly circling around with a buzzing sound. I brushed him away just before he landed on the white mush. It tasted like just bland oats of some kind. There was no seasoning or butter to add any flavor. The dirty, blood stained blender was sitting on the counter next to the stack of dirty dishes, and the sight of it killed my appetite instantly. I quickly forced down my oats knowing I would need the energy. There was a small bathroom off the kitchen with a dirty plunger next to the toilet. I used it, ran my hands under the hot water, scrubbed my face, and walked out to the driveway. 

Leatherface was already sitting in the pick-up truck with a nasty scowl on his face.

“It’ll be sundown before ya gets yer arse movin’, boy.”

The pile of cow shit was rising out of the back like a muddy volcano. There was a swarm of flies circling it. I wondered if one of those flies landed on it, ate some, then flew into the kitchen and landed on my oatmeal. Leatherface leaned over and opened the passenger’s door for me, and we drove into a large freshly plowed field.

He stomped on the brakes and the truck stopped instantly. The sudden jolt thrust me forward and my forehead lightly bumped the windshield.

“Owww, did you really have to do that?”

“Quit yer groanin’ an grab the shovel. After we spread this here dung, we gonna git some more.”

I grabbed the shovel and climbed into the bed of the truck, standing in the only spot without cow shit piled there.

“Just throw it anywhere?” I asked.

“Jes pitch it into the field all around ya. It’ll work its way through the soil. Now quit yer yappin’ an start shovelin’, boy.”

I glared at him as I held the shovel, fighting off the urge to hit him with it.

The blade sliced into the pile of brown slop and the stench exploded into the air. I heaved the shovelful into the field around us. Over and over I dug and heaved. The pile got smaller bit by bit, and cow shit splattered on the ground in a ring all around the truck. When it was finally finished, I awkwardly stood straight, my back tight with spasms.

I wiped the sweat from my face, and asked, “You got any water in that canteen?”

No answer.

“Mr. Varmint, I finished the pile. Do you have any water?”

Still no answer.

I jumped down from the bed of the truck and walked over to the driver’s side. Leatherface was leaning back, his head resting against the top of his seat with his mouth wide open.

“Zzzz,weee-weee-weee, zzzz, weee-weee-weee.”

A fly was circling his open mouth, going up and down with his snoring breath like a surfer riding a wave. He tossed and turned a little.

“Zzzz, mumble mumble, ah’ll take a stick ta ya, zzzz, mumble, mumble, weee-weee-weee, oh ya needs a good thumpin’, zzzz, weee-weee-weee.”

Most men dreamed of beautiful girls, tropical islands, and of coming into great wealth. But Leatherface only dreamed of giving people a good thumping with a stick.

I reached inside the truck and grabbed the canteen, being careful not to wake him. I chugged down the cool water and let some run down my face and neck. He didn’t wake up as I put it back. I needed a break so I walked over to a pile of hay a short distance away and sat down next to it. I glanced at the barn and thought about hanging myself there. But Leatherface would probably get some kind of sick pleasure from it, and I didn’t want to give the bastard the satisfaction. The air was fresh, and cows were mooing in the distance. I placed the shovel to the side and leaned against the hay.
How the hell am I going to get out of here?
I thought. I leaned my head back and looked at the brilliantly blue sky above.

I was walking towards the truck with the shovel in my hand. As I came to the driver’s side, Leatherface was still snoring away.

“Zzzz, weee-weee-weee, ah’ll give ya a beatin’ ya never forgets, mumble, mumble, weee-weee-weee.”

I opened the door, grabbed his shirt, and shook him from side to side.

“Get up! Get your old nasty ass up!”

He snapped to consciousness. His facial expression looked angry, but confused.

“What in the hell do ya think yer doin’, boy?”

I pulled him from the truck and pushed him so hard he stumbled forward and fell face first into all the cow shit I had just tossed there.

He got up to his knees, his face was covered in brown-like make-up with flies circling all around his head.

“What the…oh, yer gonna pay fer this.”

“Shut your yapper, you nasty old gizzard. You’re going to your grave,” I yelled and lifted the shovel to hit him.

“Ya ain’t man enough,” he answered, staggering to his feet.

I swung the shovel sideways and it struck the side of his leg, making a metal “clang” sound. He dropped to his knees.

  “Ohhh, ma leg is busted,” he groaned.

“Good, time for the rest of you,” I said with an evil grin.

I swung the shovel again and it connected with his shoulder. His arm went limp.

“Ohhhh, ya busted ma shoulder,” he groaned again, his face wincing in pain.

“Any last requests?” I asked, lifting the shovel above my head to strike the final blow.

“Ohhh, ohhh, um all busted up. If ah gets a last request, ah guess ah jes settle fer givin’ ya a good thumpin’, that’s all.”

“Sorry, I don’t have time for all that.”

I brought the shovel down hard on top of his head with a loud metallic clanging sound. His eyes rolled back and he fell face down into the cow shit. He lay there motionless, not breathing, and dead as a doornail. I stood over his lifeless body.

“That’s what you get, Leatherface. Ah ha ha ha, that’s what you get.”

“Git yer arse up ya lazy son-of-a-bitch! Ah never seen such a useless critter in all ma days!” Leatherface was standing over me as I lay comfortably in the hay.

“I guess I must have fallen asleep,” I said, standing up.

“No shit ya fell asleep, ya useless critter!”

“But I did have a great dream,” I said with a grin.

“Ah ain’t payin’ ya to lay around dreamin’, boy.”

“I’ve had it! Take this job and stick it up your angry old ass! Give me what you owe me. I’m out of here!”

The old man’s face grew beet red.

“Stay put. Ah’ll git yer wages an drop yer useless arse back off ta Klemm.”

He stormed over to his truck, drove up to the house, and was back in a few moments with my suitcase in his front seat. I jumped in and he stomped on the gas pedal, spinning the tires in some cow shit. The truck shot forward so hard my back bounced off the seat.

“Why don’t you settle down and give me my money?” I said calmly.

“Yer money? Ya ain’t worth shit, but here,” he snapped, throwing two dollars at me.

“Two dollars?” I said incredulously.

“Shut yer yapper! Ya lucky ya gut that.”

The truck bounced up and down as Leatherface sped angrily over the rough terrain of the field. He turned onto the dirt road, passed the wooden sign that read VARMINT FAMLY FARM, and accelerated faster as the road became smoother. We drove into town, passing the old movie theatre and the mayor’s office. The truck screeched to a halt in front of Klemm’s Diner.

“Git out!” he snapped at me.

“Gladly,” I snapped back.

I grabbed my suitcase and stepped out of the truck. Leatherface began to speed off, but came to a stop and stuck his head out of the window.

“Ya needs a good thumpin’, boy,” he yelled, and then drove off.

I stood there for a moment looking at the town. It would be a little embarrassing to walk into Klemm’s, considering I had lasted a whole sixteen hours at this job. I grabbed my suitcase and walked to the door—no closer to getting out of this place; right back at Klemm’s Diner.

I entered sheepishly and waved to Klemm behind the counter.

“John, ol Mr. Varmint gave ya a day off already?”

“Not exactly,” I answered with a grin.

I sat in a booth and waved to the old toothless guy, Cleetus, who was sitting in the last booth.

“It’sssss good ta ssssee ya,” he said, the air whistling through the toothless space.

“You, too,” I said politely. It was just the three of us.

“John, what brings ya back so quick?” Klemm said as he turned away from the grill he was cleaning and faced me.

“Well, truthfully, that old farmer is a son-of-a-bitch. He worked me like an animal and swore at me the whole time. He didn’t even want to give me a drink of water.”

“Ah have heard that ol Jeb Varmint is a hard man,” Klemm said sympathetically.

“It’ssss true, heard it messself,” the old man joined in. “That feller can’t finish a ssssentence without cussssin a buncha timesss.”

“So here I am. I’m not sure what to do next.”

“Well, ah got somethin’ ta tell ya,” Klemm started. “Cleetus, can ya give us a bit of privacy?”

“Sssure thang,” the old man answered.

He put a John Deere cap on his head and walked out.

“Listen, John,” Klemm continued, “Biff says he has a plan ta git ya out of here. He wouldn’t tell me much, jes that it’s through the woods er somethin’ of the kind.”

“Are you serious? That’s great! When can I talk to him?”

“He gits done workin’ in the coal mines round four o’clock or so. Ya can jes stick around till then. He’ll be by. Biff always comes by,” he said, rolling his eyes.

I grinned, and replied, “Seems like you’ve had a little too much of Biff.”

“Biff’s a good feller, but he can wear ya down a little.”

Klemm looked over my shoulder a second, and then squeezed my arm.

“Someone’s comin’. Not a word about Biff’s plan.”

I spun around just as the door opened. A young woman in a colorful dress came in. The scent of her perfume was like a pleasant aroma in the air. Her long brown hair curled on each side of her face and she flashed a beautiful smile.

“Hello, good mornin’ Klemm. Ah sure would fancy a cup of coffee.”

Her voice sounded like music to me. I jumped quickly out of the booth.

“Abigail! My God, what are you doing here?”

“Excuse me?” she answered shyly.

“Abigail, it’s me, John Campbell.”

She looked confused.

“It is you, Abigail, isn’t it?”

“Ma name is Delilah. Can’t say ah know who Abigail is.”

I felt like I was going crazy. She looked exactly like Abigail. My heart was pounding, but it was an excitement I hadn’t felt in years.

“I’m so sorry. It’s just that you look exactly like someone I once knew.”

“Oh,” she smiled again. “It must be ma long lost twin sister.”

Klemm laughed politely behind the counter.

“My name is John Campbell. I got lost on my way to Lynchburg. I’m not usually this dirty,” I said, looking myself over, hoping I didn’t smell like the cow shit I had been shoveling.

She shook my hand,

“Delilah.”

Her skin was soft and I didn’t want to let go. She walked over to the counter where her coffee was waiting, picked it up with both hands, and sipped it quite ladylike.

“So, Klemm, jes what have ya been doin’ wit yerself?” she asked.

Even with this peculiar southern slang, her voice was like the most beautiful symphony ever composed.

“Oh, can’t say very much,” Klemm answered shyly, like he was awkward around pretty women.

I went back to my booth and sat down. I didn’t want to come across as some desperate stalker. Besides, she hadn’t invited me into the conversation. They talked quietly for a few moments. She took her last sip and placed a quarter on the counter.

“Thanks, Klemm. It was jes what ah needed. Keep the change.”

“Much obliged, Delilah. Anytime,” Klemm said humbly.

She turned to walk out but looked over at me as she passed.

“Pleasure ta make yer acquaintance,” she smiled.

“Likewise,” I smiled back.

She opened the door, glanced at me one more time, and caught me staring at her. Then she grinned and closed the door behind her.

I sprang out of the booth.

“Klemm, who is she? I have to know who she is!”

Klemm had a concerned look on his face.

“Oh, boy…” he started, and then stopped himself.

“Oh, boy, what?”

“Well, John, Delilah is the mayor’s daughter,” he said somberly.

“I don’t care who’s daughter she is! I have to get to know her. Now I know why I’m here. I’m getting a second chance.”

“A second chance at what?” Klemm asked curiously.

“A second chance at the one girl I ever loved.”

“John, lots of fellers have tried to win Delilah’s heart. Not a one could do it. An even if ya could, ya have ta deal wit the mayor.”

“I don’t care. I have to try. Tell Biff to hold off on his plan for awhile. Right now I need a job and a place to stay. Can you help me one more time?” I pleaded.

“Well,” Klemm sighed, “Ah guess Biff can probably git ya on at the coal mines. He’ll probably let ya stay wit him, too. But Biff’s a peculiar feller. But ah guess ya can make up yer own mind.”

“Klemm, you’re the best! Now how about one of those amazing breakfasts?” I said, slapping a dollar on the counter.

I ate quietly, savoring the biscuits and gravy, the fatty sausages, the eggs and toast. My mind was racing with thoughts of a whole new world, of things I had never thought possible. Klemm seemed to know I was deep in thought so he just went about his cleaning and other chores.
The hell with my dead end job!
I hadn’t seen my aunt for ten years anyway;
did she really
even care about me
?

After my parents died she just left me, only nineteen years old, alone to face the world. Back home, I was at the point of suicide.
Could Strangeville be any worse
?

When I saw her it made me want to live again, like getting a second wind during a long run.  Life was giving me a second chance at what I wanted more than anything—to love someone more than myself. Somehow, someway, I would win this woman’s heart!