dontravis.com blog post #375
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| Courtesy of Pixabay.com |
Last week, Jim Heightly's little world was turned on its end by a new man in town. A burly, handsome Arkansan who caught Miss Lily's attention. Let's see what happens next.
*****
JIM HEIGHTLY AND MISS LILY
For a while, it looked as if nothing was going to change,
and for Jim that was about as bad as having something change. He kept
waiting for it… whatever it was going to be. Then the day, or to be more
accurate, the night arrived when the world tilted. At two o’clock closing, Jim
started up the stairs, but Miss Lily’s hand on his arm put a halt on him.
“What?” he said.
“Other plans tonight.”
“What other plans.”
“I’ve invited a gentleman friend upstairs. You’ll have to
go home tonight.”
Jim turned, stared into Pistonrod’s dark eyes, and
croaked, “Gentleman?”
“Now don’t make a fuss, Jim. I’m thinking on hiring Mr.
Peston as a bouncer. We need to talk over turns.”
“You never had a bouncer before. Why now?”
“Ain't you noticed things getting a little wilder? Had
two fistfights just this one evening.”
“In the parking lot. You have people busting heads every
night. Never needed a bouncer to handle them.”
Miss Lily laid a pale hand on her bosom. “We don’t want
the Stateline to get a reputation, do we?”
“Rep—”
“Now, Jim. Don’t make a fuss. Go on. Skidoo. See you
tomorrow night.”
“Miss Lily, you don’t wanna do this. This fella’s never
gonna be more’n a grease monkey in somebody else’s garage. Heck, I bought you a
new Jukebox and put that new neon sign up. I—”
“Honey, it ain’t always about the size of a man’s wallet,”
Mis lily said with a blink of her big eyes.
“If you’re just gonna talk about a bouncer’s job, it
oughtn’t take long. I’ll hang around and—”
“Now, Jim. You go on home. Scoot. Shoo!”
His ears steaming, Jim stalked out of the now empty
honky-tonk into the cool night air. He didn’t know why, but he took a seat on a
stump underneath Miss Lily’s bedroom window as the parking lot emptied of cars
and pickups… and a bike or two. Pretty soon he was sitting in the dark not much
relieved by the new red neon sign he’d bought.. How long did it take to make a
deal to hire a bouncer?
Then he heard sounds that let him know Pistonrod was already auditioning for the bouncer's job… by bouncing up and down on a mattress.
Pretty soon came the sounds that sometimes caught the ear of passing motorists, except
this time it was Miss Lily doing the moaning and screeching.
“Oh, baby, gimme more of that piston!”
Right then, Sasquatch, a big, shaggy dog of uncertain
origins hit the fence separating Jim from the back of the place and raised a
ruckus. If Big Foot walked on all fours, he might well have been one. Friendly
until now, old Sas turned on him. Just like Miss Lily.
A harsh voice came from the upstairs window. “Who’s
there? Jim, is that you? I already told you to get outa here. You don’t
skedaddle, I’m gonna call the sheriff. Go on, git!”
Jim did, but he took the time to kick out the headlamps
on Peston’s black Ford-150. For good measure, he did the same to Miss Lily’s
brand-new Buick LeSabre. He got in his panel truck and tore out of the parking
lot, screeching and leaving burnt rubber on the asphalt as he made a hard right
toward town. And somewhere on that nine-mile drive, as he was seeing red and
mouthing threats, the fuse blew or the circuit-breaker tripped… whichever. He
almost wrecked the truck pulling a U-turn in the road and scorching pavement
all the way back to the Stateline. He roared into the parking lot and skidded
to a halt, bailing out of the seat with a 30-30 in his hand. Without even
thinking about it, he shot out all the downstairs windows. Then he took out the
neon bar sign he’d paid good money for.
Miss Lily’s voice screeched from the upstairs window. “Jim
Heightly, have you gone plumb crazy?”
Jim noticed old Pistonrod didn’t make a sound. Neither
did Sasquatch, for that matter. Two peas in a pod. All show and no go. Yellow
right down to the quick.
Finding he was out of ammunition, Jim rummaged around in
the back of the panel truck and found several jugs of the unadulterated stuff
he sold… damned near pure alcohol. He pulled out a couple and jogged to
Peston’s truck. Emptying the contents of a jug all over the cabin of the
pickup, he tossed in a lighted match and stepped back is it caught and flared.
Still not finished, he repeated the process on Lily Stopperscale’s Buick. How
about that… she wasn’t Miss Lily no more.
“I’ve called the cops, Heightly!” she screamed from the
upper floor. “Now you’ve done it. You’re going to jail.”
His cork totally popped now, Jim yelled back. “And you’re
going to hell.” With that he flung his last jar against the side of the
building and tossed a whole book of flaming matches. The wall went up like it
was just waiting for the chance. Lily let out a real yell then, and Jim thought
he caught a more masculine screech. Should he go round back and set fire to the
back entrance?
A wailing siren in the distance made up his mind for him.
He jumped in the panel truck and roared out of the parking lot. Hesitating just
a second, he turned east and crossed the state line into Arkansas. That’d stop
the country cruiser for the moment, but he was just delaying things. They’d get
him sooner or later.
And Lily Stopperscale? Hell, she had insurance out the
gazoo. She’d build the Stateline bigger and better than it was before. But
she’d sure as hell have to find a new supply of liquid goods.
*****
I hope we all learned one thing from this story. Never--but never--plug a 150-watt bulb in a 50-watt socket.
Until next week.
The following are buy links for the recently released The Voxlightner Scandal.
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-voxlightner-scandal-don-travis/1132632844?ean=9781640809260
Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!
My personal links: (Note the change in the Email address because I’m still getting remarks on the old dontravis21@gmail.com. PLEASE DON’T USE THAT ONE.)
Facebook: www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982
Twitter: @dontravis3
Buy links to Abaddon’s Locusts:
See you next week.
Don
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