Beetlebottom #3 Lanky Pete, Slim Jim and Warm Piss Water Beer.

Meanwhile, Lanky Pete and Slim sat on the ground below an old apple tree. Just off an old dirt side road,where nobody hardly ever drives by.

Slim and Lanky pulled two beers out of the paper bag and fumbled with opening them.

They toasted each other by reaching over and clinked the bottles together and then…took their first pull on the bootlegger's cheap, but pricey beers.

Now recall, Lanky Pete and Slim Jim had been through a lot today, with the theft of the donation jar, the embarrassing beatdown by Monty, and the bold illegal purchase of alcohol.

All this leading up to the reward of sitting under an old fruit tree, on a Wednesday afternoon, facing towards the warm sun. 

The beer was warm. At first gulp, the beer mixed with dried blood from lips and loose teeth as it fell to the back of their throats.

The taste was, hops, sugary sweet, some kind of citrus peel and arm pit sweat.

Slim Jim and Lanky Pete didn't have much experience with beer, but somehow knew this wasn't good stuff.

However, it was important to keep up what appearances they could, so neither one commented to the other about the shitty arm pit juice beer. They took more and more pulls on the bootlegger's backroom home brew concoctions.

Lanky and Slim had not eaten since breakfast. Neither one had drank water, juice or  chocolate milk all day.

The bootlegger's beer was much needed liquid refreshment, mouthwash, nourishment and analgesic for the body and soul.

The boys killed off the first beers quickly, mostly from thirst and trying to fill a vacant spot in their hollowed out lives.

As the boys swilled, gurgled, swallowed and spit the Wednesday afternoon bootlegger beer, the alcohol did what alcohol does, and started seeping into the brain cells and nerve endings of two stupid and aimless lunks.

Their stories, plans and bragging got louder, bolder and more profane.

At the end of two beers each, the pain from the beating was a distant memory, and the energy of a beer buzz pumped through their veins.

Big ideas, big plans, big victories, virtual kings of Beetlebottom.

At the far edge of that same orchard field, Abe Fussfutter was done work at the auto shop and stepped across the ditch and low wire fence to start crossing the field on his way home.

Abe was chewing on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, leftover from his lunch.

He had his favorite possession, a cassette tape Sony Walkman and foam covered headphones. He had his favorite cassette in, Johnny Horton's Greatest Hits.

Abe played it over and over, flipped the cassette over and back again for hours at a go.

Abe felt good, sandwich in hand, favorite music blasting, warm afternoon.

As he crossed the field, he didn't notice Slim and Lanky sitting below a tree about 100 feet to his right. Abe couldn't hear the howls, laughing and guffaws from the two liquored up delinquents because Johnny Horton was singing and twanging directly into his ear holes.

Lanky spied Abraham first. "Hey, hey look, its idiot boy, check it out!"

Slim took a second to look and then slowly focus..

Lanky fixed his alcohol gaze at Abe silently crossing the field, Abe was smiling contentedly to himself, deep into “ Sink the Bismarck”

An idea clunked into a slot in Lanky's head, and he went to stand up.

But standing up wasn't happening as easy as planned. Lanky's legs didn't cooperate at all. Tired and sore, now numbed by beer, his legs only took him half way up, before they quit and dropped him back to sitting in his ass. Slim immediately thought this was the funniest thing he had ever seen.

Slim made a move to stand up, as Lanky was setting himself for a second attempt at standing.

Slim tried to use the old apple tree for support, but his legs folded as he tried to stand up. His feet slipped on the sun dried grass, and Slim's dull and belligerent face hit the bark of the tree.

100 feet away, Abe had his back turned to this unfolding act of afternoon intoxication and buffoonery.

On his headphones, the Sony Walkman had Johnny Horton at full drum beat drama

“We gotta sink the Bismarck 'cause the world depends on us

Hit the decks a-runnin' boys and spin those guns around”

The afternoon sun was warm., the yellow grass talk and dry. Work was over, Abe had two more bites of peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Lanky Pete laughed at Slim's scuffed up face. He laughed but, it was the laugh of him enjoying Slim's misfortune and injury.

Slim felt his face for blood and any loose bits that might have come off.

Lanky swung his gaze around towards Abe, who by now was no longer walking by, he was getting away…making distance.

Lanky Pete was born with a weak mind and a mean streak, time and age only honed his dull edged skills as a bully and all round dickhead 

Lanky scanned the ground at his feet, for what exactly, he wasn't sure.

And there they were, a smattering of small brown rocks laying on top of the farm soil.

He bent over to pick up about four of the roundest ones, almost falling on his face in doing so. The cheap Wednesday afternoon beer swirled Lanky's brain, creating fog and numbness.

Abe's Walkman cried out 

“Ten hours away from homeland the Bismarck made its run

The admiral of the British fleet said "turn those bows around

We found that German battleship and we're gonna cut her down”

Slim saw what Lanky was doing and was more concerned that he himself was going to get pelted with rocks at close range for unknown reasons.

Slim stashed three rocks in his left hand, and placed the most round and perfect one in his right throwing hand. He studied the distance between him and Abe, which got larger by the second. In Lanky's muddled thick thinking, he was gonna plant a perfectly aimed shot right square in the middle of Abe's back. It's be hilarious…scare the crap outa him.

Full of beer bravado and dreams of sidewalk bragging glory, Lanky wound up and launched his missile. The rock left Lanky's throwing hand and immediately and without warning went so far off to the right, that it almost landed on the side road, missing Abe, and the field itself by a mile.

Slim burst out laughing, "Holy shit Pete, you throw worse than a blind girl, that's the worst throw I've…"

Slim Jim stopped right there, when Lanky swung around and raised his throwing arm to fire a rock at at him.

Having shut down the peanut gallery comments, Lanky turned towards Abe, now getting pretty darn far away. He launched the rock with so much force that he fell forward and had to catch himself before doing a faceplant.

The rock fell way short and way , way off to the left of Abe.

Slim piped up, “let me try a couple”

Lanky spun around and with no real intention or forethought pushed Slim right square in the chest, causing him to skitter backwards, arms windmilling around trying to keep balance.

That felt good to Lanky, he felt all inflated and taller.

Lanky loaded another rock into his right launching hand. To make up the bigger distance, he stepped forward a bunch.

Lanky maneuvered the round brown rock to curve of his fingers and fired his shot in a high arc towards Abe.

Abe's Walkman had Johnny Horton at full steam

“We had to sink the Bismarck 'cause the world depends on us

We hit the deck a-runnin' and we spun those guns around

We found the mighty Bismarck and then we cut her down”

Abe loved Johnny Horton, he loved the way “Sink the Bismarck” made him feel, all energized, pumped up and dramatic.

The little brown rock fell out of the afternoon sky and pinged Abe right square in the back of his head. It felt sharp, fast and very hard. Abe fell forward a bit, but not down. He was confused as Johnny Horton blared in the headphones, the new and unexpected pain went from the outside of his head, deeper inside where the thinking parts were.

Abe reached around to feel where the pain was coming from. He felt dizzy and a bit sick all of a sudden.

Over at the nearest apple tree, Slim Jim and Lanky howled at the idea that a lucky shot from that distance had pegged Abe right in the noggin.

Johnny Horton was just on the last few chords of his song, so he couldn't hear the hyena laughs, but at the same time, he wasn't really listening to Johnny anymore.

Abe reached to the back of his head and found a small impression in the back of his head, and a lot of blood when he brought his hand back around for a look. 

Lanky Pete and Slim Jim absolutely marvelled at Abe's confusion, and laughed harder, and pushed each other in celebration.

Slim had the bright idea to hide behind the tree so that Abe wouldn't see where the rock missile came from .. that'll make it just that much more hilarious.

They stumbled behind the old apple tree looking like two drunken Keystone cops falling over each other and giggling.

Abe took his headphones off and felt his wound again, it was definitely bleeding and there seemed to be a divot or maybe a hole.

Abe pondered “ did I just get shot?”...or did a bird just fly right into the back of my head?”

Abe turned to scan the field…nothing, nobody there, no cars, no bird on the ground, nobody with a gun telling him to get of their property…just field, trees and an old dirt road .

When Abe turned back to look the other way, his body stopped the turn but the insides of his head kept going right around…Abe's head felt like a balloon full of sweet hot air that was lifting him right out of his shoes.

The light switch in Abe's head clicked to the “ off position” and Abe fell face first into the yellow grass and brown soil below.

On the headphones that lay beside him Johnny Horton started up with the first few lines of the song “ Comanche”, but Abe wasn't there to listen.

Lanky Pete and Slim were bent over double with laughter, it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. The way Abe kinda spiralled a bit and then fell forward without putting his hands out…this was better than they could have ever imagined.

Then it clunked into Slim and Lanky's heads that ,you know what…we might be in deep shit for this…godammit shit shit shit…whadda we do now? Fuck .!..

Let's get outa here before someone sees. C'mon let's go!

Slim grabbed the last of the beers and chased after Lanky who was making tracks away from the scene of the crime at top speed, leaving Slim in his dust…to either catch up or not.

Lanky and Slim ran down the dirt road as best their cheap beer intoxicated legs could take them. They never felt so alive, full of fear, excitement, hearts pumping, that whole body rush of getting away with something scot-free. Their general direction was back towards the main street of Beetlebottom.

Abe was face down in the soft brown soil of the orchard field while Johnny sang, “Comanche you fought hard

Comanche you tried

You were a good soldier so hold your head up high

For even the greatest sometimes must fall”.

Lanky and Slim got around the first bend in the road and then slowed their pace to a more leisurely saunter, casual, cocky, kings of the world. Lanky pulled out the last two beers from the bag and handed one to Slim. As they drank the warm piss water and rehashed the story of pinging that rock offa Abe's head, and heroically buying beer from the bootlegger…all in the same day…Lanky stopped in his tracks…when the memory of getting walloped by Monty at the back of the high school plonked into his head.

"Huh", Lanky said out loud to nobody in particular.

Slim turned, his weak little brain turning into beer mush. 

“What?”

“Nothing shithead…hey let's go stop over at the auto shop, I gotta get something.”

"What…whaddya you need there…besides..it's closed by now."

"Shut up and follow me…I got an idea ."