Beetlebottom #14

Running in Circles and Meeting Yourself Again 

Lanky Pete was really enjoying the warm detached feeling that those two little white pills provided. 

As he stood up beside his bed, a bit hesitant, a tad wobbly, all the pain in his body got real small and distant.

The inside of the doctor's house made Lanky feel like he was still asleep and dreaming of magical and impossible places.

A clean bed, a clean and tidy room. A washed bowl with hot stew.

Napkins! Of all things. Lanky never knew anybody that had…or used clean white napkins at meal time.

 Mostly he was used to using his t-shirt to mop up stray bits of food from his chin.

There was no dirt on the floor, the paint on the walls wasn't peeling, this was all too weird and unusual.

Lanky could hear that the Doc and his wife were in the next room watching some sort of talent show on TV.

 Lanky could smell the doctor's pipe smoke, and heard low murmurs of quiet conversation. Lanky calculated that there was something seriously defective with these people…if in fact they probably weren't even real. 

No yelling and throwing kitchen utensils. No holes in the wall. Everything oddly clean and sanitary.

Yup, there was something really, really wrong with this place and these people.

The little white pills erased the pain of Lanky's injuries, burns, cuts and bruises. 

At the same time, he felt like he was moving inside a clear plastic bag, partially removed and separate from true Beetlebottom reality.

It was obvious to Lanky that this was no place for him.

 These people were so extremely odd and weird, treating him nice, and talking all gentle. 

Lanky just knew, he knew that at any minute, once he let his guard down, the old Doc and his wife would shapeshift into the monsters that they really were.

That's when the morphine enhanced Lanky hatched his escape plan.

The TV show blared away in the other room, that gave Lanky cover to tiptoe around his room.

Just outside Lanky's room was a hallway that went to the front room where the TV was.

The other direction went past a couple rooms, and on to the back door.

In the hallway, was a small table that had the little bottle of magic white pills, fresh bandages and a glass pitcher of clear, clean water.

Lanky had to command each leg separately to move him forward, it didn't help much that the room wouldn't stay still and the floor was made out of some sort of liquid goo.

Lanky quietly pocketed the bottle of magic pills and eased himself out the back door to make his escape from the weirdos.

It was way safer for Slim Jim to be at school rather than back at home.

At home, there was no food, and his parents didn't pay the power bill, so the house was always dark cold.

His mom took turns, yelling, crying, laughing and sleeping, Slim was never sure what was coming next.

Slim's dad was the janitor down at the Beetlebottom cheese plant.

Slim's dad left work everyday and went directly to the veterans hall to play the pull tabs.

He would tell stories about the war as if he owned the whole army. 

Slim Jim's dad worked in an army kitchen, scraping pots after mealtime. 

To hear him tell the tales, you'd think he was driving an armoured tank with one hand while flying a fighter plane with the other.

After Slim's dad got home from leaving all his money at the veterans hall, he would make sure to inform Slim that he was a loser and the entire system was stacked against him. He had no chance.

With all this in mind, Slim went into a side entrance to the school.

The main doors were too crowded with chattering girls, basketball heroes, and worst of all , teachers.

Slim had half an idea to actually show up at class.

Slim navigated a few hallways, head down, hands in pockets, shielding himself from the looks and whispers.

It was all, just too much, Slim knew that even if he did step into a classroom, he wouldn't understand the words or numbers, the names or dates.

The teacher would never ask him anything, because she knew that Slim barely knew what day it was.

So, with all that, Slim Jim ejected out the back door of Beetlebottom High School…right out to the Smoke Pit.

The scene of the crime.

There stood, school principal Monty, the school maintenance man, and the boot licking student council president 

( In fifteen years, Slim Jim and Lanky Pete will be at the peak of petty criminality, and the student council president will go to jail for bank fraud and sexual abuse of farm animals.)

“Holy shit, Holy shit!” Slim panicked.

 He just naturally assumed that everyone already knew that Lanky ( and by direct association) , Slim had tried to burn the school down.

And really, that was kinda true.

When Monty spotted Slim pop out the back door, he immediately thought that of course that little bastard was involved.

Slim turned about face and ran back inside the school. 

He ran down the hall, banging into students, careening off lockers and crashed into the fire exit door at the other end of the school.

Slim hit the outside ground at full gallop and headed towards the trails behind the ball field.

Abe was sitting up in his hospital bed looking at the pictures in Life magazine and National Geographic, while enjoying a ham and cheese sandwich.

The doctor and nurse were nice to him.

 Abe had been up and walking around, exploring his corner of the hospital.

Abe's head hurt some, but the ice pack treatments definitely took the edge off.

The nurse told Abe that the doctor was going to keep him in until tomorrow morning, just to make sure everything was good.

The doctor wasn't sure exactly what had hit Abe in the back of the head, but the wound was enough to pay a little extra attention to.

Abe's brother, Sheriff Fussfutter left his house at midmorning.

He was about 2 hours late after falling back asleep when Lilli called him.

To put on a good show for the citizens of Beetlebottom, the sheriff drove straight to the hardware store on main street.

He parked his patrol car a bit askew, and away from the curb a bit.

This way, people couldn't help but take notice, the Sheriff was up and about. He was at work and on duty.

As usual, the coffee was on, behind the counter of the hardware store, several men milled about telling tall tales just generally shooting the shit. The Sheriff stepped right up to take his place in the group.

Back at the bootlegger's house, the Old Man and Mama were going at it.

Mama, “ So your serious…that mechanic guy is your brother? This is all news to me…and…because he says so…were gonna pull up roots and move? Am I hearing you right? Son of a bitch, tell me I'm wrong!”

“ And..and, what about my boy? …He ain't come home yet, we can't be leaving without him. Ain't no way.”

“Mama, shut your trap and listen.” 

"Grab me some more ice for my knee.”

 “That brother of mine is a real son of a bitch when he's all worked up.”

“I don't know what he told David Lee this morning, or how they found each other…but I know what I'm doing…and I am leaving.”

The Old Man hobbled around the room holding his newly hammer bashed knee and teetering on the previously smashed knee.

“ Grab that godamned ice, and bring me a whiskey while your at it. I'm in serious bloody pain here.”

 Mama pleaded, “We got roots here. We got a good thing going on. My son is a good boy, he can take over real soon. Then we can sit back and just collect. C'mon this ain't right, it ain't right.”

“Mama, sorry to tell you this, but your kid is good for fuck all. He's just a weight around our necks. Plus…he ain't here, and I'm making the call.”

“Now go pack up your shit, and start loading the car.”

Mama had tears in her eyes and sobbed quietly. She went to the cupboard underneath the kitchen sink.

She made sure the Old Man was still moaning and hobbling about in the front room.

Mama pulled out two coffee cans.

One can had eleven thousand dollars in cash, the other had seven hundred dollars in loose coins.

Mama squirreled the cans into her suitcase, while the Old Man moaned and cursed his life.