The Town and People of Beetlebottom
[ images by ChatGPT and Mike Pearson ]
Installment 1.
These people and this town are unknowingly affected by small amounts of noxious gas emanating from a fissure in the earth. Where once upon a prehistoric time, hot volcanic fury poured out of a crack in Mother Earth...now just a silent trickle of stupid juice ( a blend of nitrous oxide, methane, carbon monoxide, radon and the gas from partially rotted dinosaur teeth) oozed out and settled about ten feet deep in the atmosphere of a small town called Beetlebottom.
It took about 10, sometimes 15 years for a resident of Beetlebottom to be fully affected by the low concentrations of mind altering emissions.
But for sure, after 15 years of exposure, the DNA and brain fibers of all humans in the area were forever altered...and not for the better.
The residents of Beetlebottom were completely unaware of the effects. They had no clue that the long arc of increasing stupidity and dense thinking was caused by a curse from below ground.
The magic of the ground gas was that as the residents of Beetlebottom got truly stupid and backwards, they got much happier and very much sure of themselves. It was a rare combination arrogant morons...happy, deliriously arrogant morons.
The township and surrounding district were all similarly affected by the tiny concentration of odorless invisible gas emissions.
From Scruffynutts Cove to Rattsnest Bay, and all across to Woodsplinter Rd... the entire adult and young adult population of Beetlebottom was forever affected.
Now...this was a problem for the new borns and young children... because they were completely clear and unaffected. Though inexperienced in the ways of the larger world...they instinctively knew that something was so very seriously wrong with almost every adult they came into contact with.
Children in grade four would stare in disbelief at the Beetlebottom town sheriff, Hoodsdigger Fussfutter and compare him to his twin brother, the acknowledged village idiot Abraham Fussfutter. As far as they could see and calculate, there was no discernible difference between the two men.
The two men would meet at the Beetlebottom coffee shop " Haz Beans" and get in arguments with regular patron Deezil Dan ...every goddamned day. Yelling and fist pounding, eyes rolling so hard that they barely stayed in their heads.
They fought like intoxicated billy goats, until 4 times married ( currently engaged for 3 years) owner of Haz Beans,Lili Swivelhips tosses them out.
The Beetlebottom town career criminals, Slim Jim and Lanky Pete. Though they kinda somewhat looked like brothers, maybe cousins, they were not. Both very tall and very skinny and long legged, they dressed in ragged old hand me down clothes or thrift store rejects. The two raggedy men perpetually in need of a shave and haircut, were always several days past needing a shower.
The two men were of unknown age. They could have been really tragic and pathetic looking 30 year olds, or road worn and exhausted 50 year old drifting losers.
The Beetlebottom town legend of Slim Jim and Lanky Pete.
Lanky Pete and Slim Jim were doubly disadvantaged. First, due to heaping piles of bad luck, bad choices and karmic debts, they were both born already stupid and thick, behind the 8 ball as they say.
Then...they spent their formative years living in the silent, odorless stupid juice atmosphere of Beetlebottom.
They were affected thusly... by the time Lanky Pete and Slim Jim were in their early 20's...they had been kicked out of Beetlebottom high school for trying to burn it down. But this came about only after they stole the donation jar from the Beetlebottom High book club bake sale fundraiser.
For that petty crime of opportunity, they received a fairly complete beating from the Beetlebottom High principal, Monty Johnson. Monty was a boxer when he was in the Army for a couple years before becoming a teacher. Monty didn't take crap from anyone.
When the tearful and shaken book club president reported the theft of the donation jar, Monty lit off immediately to track down Lanky Pete and Slim Jim in the hallways and corners of Beetlebottom High.
The obvious first place to look was " the Pit". The unofficial, unapproved smoking area for all the rebels, thugs, grade 10 gangster wannabes, plus girls that had crappy home lives and were attracted to seriously flawed young men...there were also the male teachers that hung out at the Pit trying to get sex from 15 year old girls.
At any rate, Monty opened the back door of Beetlebottom High.
The Pit was around the corner to the left , between the parked cars, overflowing garbage cans and the badly spelled graffiti stained walls.
Lanky Pete and Slim Jim were hunched over the spare change that they had spilled onto the blacktop, and were trying to count. They couldn't agree on how much they had. Having counted the loot 3 times, Lanky Pete said they had five dollars and twenty five cents, while Slim Jim claimed to have counted eight fifty.
They were arguing about the amount when Monty Johnson walked up behind them. Monty grabbed Lanky Pete by the collar and pulled him up from a crouching position. Monty took another grip on Lanky Pete's dirty jean jacket and proceeded to punch the shit out of the shocked and bewildered young thug while hanging on to Lanky's jacket with his left hand.
Slim Jim was still mired in the recount of the stolen fundraising money. ( it was actually four dollars and eighty five cents, but they would never get to know that)
Slim was trying to organize the spilled change into piles, so that a final count could happen. He didn't realize that a stack of five quarters wasn't a dollar.
That didn't really matter much now. School principal Monty Johnson let go of Lanky Pete and let him drop rag dolled to the ground. Monty swiveled around and started kicking the crouched over Slim Jim in the ribs with great enthusiasm.
In the thick dull soup of Slim Jim's brain, it took a bit to process the difference between counting stolen money and getting shit kicked by a high school principal. A few delayed brain signals told Slim Jim that he was getting beaten by his drunken Uncle Stick Jones. Those beatings were mostly for sport, and had the added benefit of removing all the hope and dreams from Slim Jim's misfiring brainpan.
But no, this was different. There was something else about this particular beating that felt very off.
This assault had meaning, there was a definite purpose here. There was extreme prejudice and willfulness in these kicks and punches that Slim was barely enduring.
When Slim detected a small opening, he peeked up between his elbows to see the Beetlebottom High School principal getting wound up for another round...which was promptly released with a flurry of fists and scuffed brown shoes that hadn't seen shoe polish since they were purchased years ago.
After that last flurry, Monty drew back away from the pummeled, slumped over on the ground young thugs.
You've heard of the old term " idiot savant"?....well Lanky Pete and Slim Jim were mostly just " idiot idiot"
They whimpered and moaned out weak protests of " we didn't do anything" "what was that for"
Lanky Pete made a bad choice when he was still on the ground, on all fours trying to get up and muttered/ spit out a weakly vengeful "asshole"
Oopsie. Wrong thing to say to an already pissed off Monty. Really wrong.
Even if you are a certified moron, a known idiot, maybe even a career buffoon... calling ez boxer and current school principal Monty Johnson an asshole was a bad move.
Lanky Pete was too fucking stupid to know this. Lanky thought he was being tough and rebellious.
Monty , somewhat out of breath, a bit disheveled and untucked turned to face Lanky square on, fists tight and down at his side.
Right then, the 10 am bell rang. Monty's focus went from vindictive brawling to the meeting he had scheduled with a bank manager about a second mortgage.
He ambled over to stand between the two stunned and bleeding fools and said with great precision and intent..." Pick up ....All the goddamned money...all of it...every goddamned penny... and return it to where you got it...and do it ....now"
Monty about faced, adjusted his soup stained tie and tried to tuck in his ancient white shirt that struggled to hold back his increasing paunch. Before he stepped into the school he ran, Monty paused enough to say " I would hope that you've learned that stealing from others isn't really worth it"
Unfortunately, Lanky Pete and Slim Jim didn't learn a goddamned thing from this beat down.
All they knew was that their heads hurt, a couple teeth were loosened up, they could taste blood and their ribs hurt when they tried to stand.
Lanky and Slim got up to a just about standing position, holding their ribs and probed loose teeth with their tongues to assess the damage.
Now, I would tell you that sometimes, in the right conditions, rebellion against authority is exactly the right thing to do.
Sometimes, it's the only way forward.
However, misplaced and ill timed rebellion... is just the heartbreak of the world....like shooting arrows into the ocean to stop the tide.
Lanky Pete and Slim Jim made a contract with their future selves and promptly decided to gather up the loot, and head over to the bootlegger to buy beer...at 10 am on a Wednesday morning.
They were not done with Monty Johnson.
Monty Johnson was not done with Lanky and Slim.
And...the Karmic Wheel of life groaned in disbelief at what it had to churn out for all these men.
Lanky and Slim picked up all the change and the single one dollar bill and stuffed it in their pockets.
Slim took the glass donation jar and threw it against the school back wall, where it smashed into shards and fell onto the parking lot.
They stalked off southward down the single main street of Beetlebottom.
They stopped by the backyard of Uncle Stick Jones to steal his garbage bag full of empty beer cans from the shed. This treasure would yield more cash ...more cash means ..more beer.
On their march to the Beetlebottom bootlegger, Lanky Pete and Slim Jim started weaving through the web of back roads that crisscrossed the flatlining town. One street took them past the two bay auto shop where Abraham Fussfutter worked part time.
Abraham had the reputation as " village idiot", even though the contest for ultimate stupidity was truly unsettled, and anyone of 10: residents could claim that post on any day.
Abraham's reputation came mostly from the taunts and announcements of his brother, Hoodsdigger, the sheriff of Beetlebottom.
Hoodsdigger was a real son of a bitch, a mean and stupid man, who did not know of compassion, morals or ethics. Hoodsdigger just knew about inflicting pain and tossing out comments that embarrassed others.
Hoodsdigger thought it was funny when people got hurt and dogs got hit by cars.
Hoodsdigger tortured his younger brother Abraham forever, since Abraham was born.
When Abraham was just a baby, still sleeping in a white pine wooden crib, a six year old Hoodsdigger gotva box of matches and tried to light baby Abraham's blanket on fire.
Luckily, the old brown family dog started barking out a loud , concerned alarm, that somewhat alerted Mr and Mrs Fussfutter, who were playing crib and drinking home brew beer and Lamb's Navy Rum in the kitchen.
Mother and father Fussfutter were disturbed from their crib playing, beer buzz and rum intoxication by the barking dog in the next room.
Irritated and vengeful they lurched towards the noise with roll your own cigarettes firmly planted between their crooked lips.
Mrs Fussfutter started to raise her tobacco stained hand to swat the old brown dog, while Mr Fussfutter focused on the box of matches the Hoodsdigger has in his hand.
The scene looked like this...
Mama Fussfutter with hand raised towards the old dog.
Old brown dog started to recoil back, knowing full well what's coming.
Papa Fussfutter lurching forward and down towards the box of matches in young Hoodsdigger's six year old hand.
Baby Abraham still deep in his deep baby sleep, unaware.
A curling wisp of burnt plastic smelling smoke from the failed attempt to light Abraham's blanket on fire. Hoodsdigger couldn't quite get the blanket kit because the matches he stole from his father's coat pocket were damp.
Six year old Hoodsdigger Fussfutter stood his ground definitely and smirked calmly at the flurry of drama and action that he had set into motion.
But... today, years later... Abraham Fussfutter was a tall, thin young man with a part time job at a two bay auto repair shop.
Abraham was focused on sweeping the floor of the auto shop, getting it just right.
The large wooden doors of the shop were open to the dirt back road of Beetlebottom.
Abraham looked up from the floor, up from the old corn broom. Up from the pile of swept dirt that held cigar wrappers, shipping labels, a couple nuts and bolts, and a few cigarette butts and beer bottle caps.
Abraham saw Lanky and Slim walking by. They seemed to have a purpose, they were laughing and pushing each other as they moved along the country back road.
Lanky spied Abe looking at them, and called out without hesitation "hey dummy, you missed a spot...ha ha ha..you dumb shit"
Slim thought that was hilarious.
Abraham looked behind him at the shop floor and returned with..." No I didn't, I just haven't done that part yet"
Slim said to Lanky, loud enough for Abraham to hear " Jesus, that guy is stupid, he doesn't even know you're screwing with him"
Lanky spit out " Dumbass"
They had slowed their walking to taunt Abraham.
Abraham could plainly see the dried blood on Lanky and Slim's faces, torn shirts and the dirt and mud patches on their jeans. Lanky was carrying a dirty black plastic garbage bag full of something that rattled like tin cans and glass bottles.
Abraham vaguely knew it must of been a school day and school hours when he asked the boys, " where you going, whatcha up to?"
Lanky came back with " none of your goddamned business"
Slim in that moment, and to his credit came up with " we're on a special mission"
There was a lot of things in Abraham's world that didn't make any sense, no matter how long he pondered them.
This situation with Lanky and Slim wandering by the auto shop at this time of day...was one of those forever puzzles.
This action all passed as Lanky and Slim moved by the shop doors and Abraham saw more of their backs moving away than he saw their front side and bloodied faces.
The old German that owned the repair shop called out from under the hood of a 53 Studebaker four door car, " Yah, I don't pay you to gawk out the door, I pay you to clean up, godammit"
Abraham spun around and was reawakened to his world inside the shop walls, the floor with the pile of sweepings that waited for his full attention. The adventures of the outside world clicked off and disappeared.
Lanky Pete and Slim had moved on, turned onto the more remote and seldom used by decent people, Woodsplinter Rd.
The dirt road curved around and upward into more dense bush and trees that hung over the roadway. The road was rutted out from cars trying to clamber up and around washouts.
The brief climb uphill caused Slim and Lanky to struggle with their breathing, and legs not used to working hard were burning a bit as the boys approached the bootlegger's old house.
Lanky and Slim knew right away that they were at the right place.
The house itself was old and rundown. It had a front porch with a lean-to roof that was falling down on one side due to rotting support posts.
The front lawn hadn't seen a mower in ages. Long grass and dandelions hid old tires and rusty engine parts strewn about the yard.
Contrasting this was a brand new shiny car in the gravel driveway. Deep blue, dual exhaust, chrome wheels and a pair of fuzzy eight balls hanging from the rearview mirror.
All the shiny bits glinting in the afternoon sunlight.
Lanky and Slim eased up beside the gleaming, sleek, hunk of Detroit iron.
Lanky was first to move in and attempt to have a look inside.
From the house's, crooked porch, a pair of leather motorcycle boots dropped onto the planks.
Inside those boots was an angular, bearded man wearing jeans and a black t-shirt.
He bellowed out, "get the fuck away from that car"..." Da fuck do you two morons want here anyway?"
Lanky and Slim jerked themselves back and looked up at the man leaning on the porch railing.
The man glared down. Large veins bulged in his arms. He held a cigarette burning in his left hand... smoke lazily swirling away.
The man's face showed a mix of hate, contempt and a thirst for violence.
Anybody with eyes and ears would have sensed all this. This would be a good warning shot to the average joe. Like a snarling junkyard dog, maybe this isn't the right place to be.
Lanky Pete and Slim Jim were so desperately lacking in common sense and social skills, that they thought they heard an invitation. Or maybe it was the dirt and grime in their ears that blocked the message.
Lanky Pete boldly stepped forward a bit and in cock sure manner and with squinted eyes announced ..* we came up to buy beer. We was going to the the lake. We need beer."
The chunk of raw beef that was the man standing on the porch went silent for a second. You could tell he was recalculating.
" Shouldn't you two shitheads be in school"?
Slim Jim took a turn. " Naw, we got time off for food behaviour " Slim Jim thought that was the best thing he had ever said.
"Huh" said porch man. Did that blood on your faces come with that good behaviour... or did you do that to each other?"
That took Slim Jim and Lanky Pete by surprise. In their excitement about the fancy car, and the prospect of swilling bootleg beer on a warm Wednesday afternoon, they just plumb forgot that they had recently been beaten by the school principal.
They readjusted, and Lanky Pete, with his thumbs in his front belt loops declared ," yeah, so about the beer, I heard we could buy offsales here. Is this the place, are you the guy?"
Porch man stood up straight and took a long drag from his cigarette.
He half muttered, and half out loud just said " wow"
Slim piped up. " We have cash, and a good haul of empties."
Porch man's faced slackened for a second, then tightened up real hard.
"Did you fucking bring empties here... do you think this is the fucking garbage dump? Holy shit, this is fucking unbelievable "
Slim, completely undeterred, oblivious and lacking oxygen to the brain, came back with..." Feels like almost ten bucks worth." Slim rattled the bag up and down for effect.
Porch man cut short the negotiations with .." You know what....I haven't shot anything today yet, I'ma gonna start with you two.
Right about then, a woman's voice from inside the house. The screen door squealed open , and a robust woman with harshly dyed red hair planted two solid legs on the porch.
" I'ma trying to watch my programs, I can't hear a goddamned thing with all this ruckus out here.
She swung around to take notice of Slim and Lanky in the driveway.
" Well by Jesus, are these two idiots trying to steal my car, cuz I'll whip em if they are!"
No Mama, they're telling me that they want beer, wanna know if they can get offsales here "
"Goddammit, did they say that?" Mama quizzed .
"Offsales?"
" Yup... exact words"
Slim Jim and Lanky Pete took this moment to feel all heroic and quite manly in doing this bit of business and serious negotiation.
They puffed up a bit and took a more serious stance than the stunned and scared shitless look they had a second ago.
Mama inquired to porch man, ( we all know by now that porch man is obviously mama's grown son, but Lanky Pete and Slim Jim can't manage the calculations for that leap of logic)
“ Do they have money?”
“ Shit, Mama , they got a bit of cash and a garbage bag full of empties I shit you not”
Mama came back indignantly with “ you talk to me with a mouth like that again I'll cuff you one upside your head”
“ Sorry Mama, I didn't sleep good last night, I ….”
Mama stopped that line of bullshit with ..” you were out whoring again is what you were doing. More work and less screwing around is what you need to pay attention to “
Mama swung back around to Lanky and Slim. The boys were getting parched right about now with all this fighting, trudging up dirt roads and negotiating.
“ We got money and a good haul of empties “
“How many beers were you looking for?” Mama asked.
Porch man looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Lucky for him , she didn't see that.
Mama took her turn to lean on the wooden porch railing.
What you boys want, liquor, pot , maybe a baggie or two of Happy Dust?”
“Jesus, Mama, these is school boys, well school age anyways, these dumb fucks probably couldn't pass janitor school.”
“Well” Mama sermonized…” we are in business, and these are future customers.”
Lanky Pete came back proudly and defiantly with, “ beers, we'd like beers. It's hot, and we are headed to the lake. Beer would be just the ticket”
Mama asked gently, "Well boys, how many beers do you need today?”
“An even dozen” piped up Lanky.
“Hmm…I'll give you six. Six beers, that's it. I'll take whatever cash you got there, and then you'll still owe me ten bucks, understand? “
Slim calculated and puzzled a bit too long before he said…” No no, we have empties, we don't need to pay ten dollars.
Mama gently and sternly said, “ Boys, does this look like a garbage dump to you? We don't take empties, we don't do trades, we take good old fashioned cash. You boys will get six beers right now, and owe me ten dollars, that's the deal.
Mama gave a head nod to porch man. He dutifully went inside the house to retrieve 6 cans of discount shelf piss water beer.
Porch man came back out and muttered “ you sure, Mama?”
Mama nodded in the affirmative with a small sly smile.
Porch man came down the wooden stairs, with his heavy black boots announcing every step. At the bottom he turned towards Slim and Lanky, careful to walk on the paving stones, so as not to dirty the boots.
As he handed over the brown paper bag full of cheap beer, Porch Man said to the boys, “ I don't know anybody dumber…or ..luckier than you two fucking idiots.”
Lanky Pete took the bag and said, “ thanks man. I appreciate that.”
From the house, Mama said, “ remember boys, that's 10 dollars you owe me, now don't be strangers, ya hear?”
By now, the afternoon was growing long and Slim and Lanky were thirsty and a bit weary. Instead of heading to Beetlebottom Lake, they decided between them to saunter over to a nearby abandoned property that had old fruit trees to provide shade and cover from the sight of school boys drinking beer on a Wednesday.
