By Brett Matthew West
"What are you reading you little mischief maker?" Sheriff Daniels teasingly asked Cody noticing the boy kept reading the same line in his book over and over again.
"What's wrong with this picture Dad?" Cody wanted to know, "It says, and I quote, "The needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many." He paused a breath then remarked, "Somehow Dad, that does not seem right to me."
"Come over here and sit on my lap Little Man," the Sheriff replied, "and I'll try to tell you in words you'll understand."
Cody climbed down off his chair at the reading desk. He bounced across the room to where Sheriff Daniels was seated in his favorite recliner and crawled up to where the Sheriff told him to go. He placed his arm around the back of the Sheriff's neck and looked him in the eye. He was all ears.
"Well," Sheriff Daniels began, "let's pretend you're the king and you have all the food in the kingdom."
Cody's sparkling blue eyes grew bigger. He liked that idea.
"Now, let's say all the people in your kingdom are starving," Sheriff Daniels added to his scenario, "would you feed them or let them go hungry?"
Cody half-grinned. "Let'em starve! At least I'll be fed!" he replied.
"So, you're telling me Little Man, you'd let all your subjects go hungry as long as you could eat?" Sheriff Daniels questioned him, "That's not very nice of you," he said gently tracing the length of Cody's nose with his forefinger.
"And it's awful selfish too!" the Sheriff told the boy, "But it shows you the needs of the one, namely you, are more important to you than your subjects needs are, the needs of the many."
"Uh-huh," Cody agreed with the Sheriff's assessment. "That's the way I see it Dad," he remarked.
"Oh you do, do you?" Sheriff Daniels wondered.
"Yes I do Dad," Cody replied matter-of-factly.
"Okay, now let's say you're in my kingdom and I am the ruler," Sheriff Daniels told Cody.
He caught an enjoyable whiff of something pleasant and said, "Boy, that fried chicken Beth's fixing out there in the kitchen sure is smelling good isn't it?"
"It's YUMMY! for my tummy!" Cody chimed in telling the Sheriff, "And I'm starving too! I haven't eaten all day!"
"I control the food in this castle," Sheriff Daniels reminded Cody, "and the needs of the one, me, outweigh the needs of the many, you. So all that fried chicken you smell cooking out there in the kitchen is all mine!"
Cody did not like the sound of what Sheriff Daniels was telling him. He looked hard at the Sheriff trying to figure out if he was being serious. He hoped he was not.
"Go on. Get down and go to your room!" Sheriff Daniels firmly instructed the boy to do.
Crestfallen, Cody hopped down off the Sheriff's lap. He could not believe he was being sent to his room without supper. He really was hungry. On the verge of tears, and with his book in his hand, Cody slowly started up the stairs leading to his room.
Sheriff Daniels allowed Cody to climb four steps then called him back to him. Cody turned around and walked back to where the Sheriff stood. His chin almost on the floor.
The Sheriff raised Cody's head by lifting the bottom of his chin with his fingers.
"And the moral of this story is?" he asked the boy wanting to see if Cody learned the lesson he was trying to teach him.
"The needs of the one do not outweigh the needs of the many," Cody responded. Then he said, "It is better to share what you have with others than be selfish and keep it all for yourself."
"Good boy!" Sheriff Daniels exclaimed mussing Cody's blond hair. "That's your ticket to dinner tonight. Now, go put your book away, wash your hands, and let's eat us some fried chicken!"
A big smile creased Cody's face. He placed his book on the shelf where it belonged then walked into the kitchen. There, he lathered his hands with soap at the sink, rinsed them off, and dried them on a paper towel Sheriff Daniels provided him with.
"Sure smells good in here!" Cody complimented Beth.
It was at that time Cody felt a firm swat on the seat of his jeans.
"Aren't you supposed to be sitting up at the table Little Man?" Sheriff Daniels asked him.
"Yes sir," Cody responded.
"Then get there!" the Sheriff broadly smiled back at him, saying, "And don't forget, in this house we say grace before we eat."
| Author Notes |
After asking the Sheriff what "The needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many" means, Cody learns a valuable lesson in selfishness from Sheriff Daniels.
This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to compliment my story. So, thanks Lilibug6, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my little story. |
By Brett Matthew West
"I was only trying to help! I didn't mean to flood the kitchen floor!' Cody told Beth. Big droplets of water rained down his face from his diamond blue eyes as he spoke the words.
Cody sniffled a couple of times before continuing with, "Now the Sheriff is so mad at me over what I did he won't even talk to me!"
Trying to be sympathetic, Beth looked Cody in the eye and replied, "Your Dad's not mad at you, Cody."
"Oh yea?" the boy demanded, asking her, "Then why did he snap at me like he did?"
"He was just frustrated about the whole situation," Beth attempted to tell him, assuring Cody, "it wasn't anything you did wrong."
Without waiting for any further explanation from her, Cody grabbed the wooden handrail fastened to the wall. The decorative trimming ran the full length of the staircase. He glanced back at Beth and ran up the steps leading to his bedroom. Beth watched as he flew out of sight.
Cody sat down on the chair at his desk in the far corner of the room reflecting on everything that happened. "Was it his fault the stupid sink dripped in the first place?" he asked himself.
"No it wasn't," he responded to his own question.
Cody wiped the tears from his eyes. He recalled how, while pouring himself a glass of water to drink, a wet spot suddenly appeared on the floor at his feet. Opening the cabinet door to see where it was coming from he noticed the leak. Immediately he informed Sheriff Daniels about the situation. At the time, Cody thought he was doing the right thing.
In the middle of reading a case file about a bank robbery that occurred at the PNC Bank on Cassandra Boulevard earlier that morning, Sheriff Daniels observed Cody reach under the sink. When the boy pulled his hand back out it was wet from the water leaking from the pipe.
Cody knew Sheriff Daniels, a very busy lawman, often worked at home so he could spend more time with the boy. It had always been that way since the Sheriff first fostered Cody after he became an orphan.
Only half-seeing what was transpiring, Sheriff Daniels asked Cody to explain his actions. "What are doing underneath that sink, Little Man?" Then he reminded the boy to, "And, make sure you dry your hands on a paper towel, not a dish rag."
Cody informed the Sheriff water was leaking under the sink.
Looking perturbed, Sheriff Daniels laid his folder down on top of the dining room table. It seemed something was always interrupting his work.
"How many times have I told you not to disturb me when I am working on something?" he angrily demanded of Cody, "Now I have another one of your little messes to stop what I need to be doing and clean up!"
Cody could not believe what the Sheriff said to him. It wasn't his fault water leaked from the pipe. Attempting to reply he said, "Dad, I didn't do anything..."
"Just leave everything alone!" Sheriff Daniels snapped at the boy. Slowly, he rose up from the table and said, "Go find something constructive to occupy your time with. Like maybe doing some homework for a change! That would be a big improvement! I'm sure you have plenty of things you could be doing!"
The words stung Cody. He reached for the roll of paper towels and grabbed one to dry his wet hands with. Afterwards he wadded the towel up and threw it into the trash can at the end of the kitchen counter. Without another word, Cody speedily departed the kitchen. That was where he encountered Beth at the bottom of the stairs.
Cody looked over and saw his bedroom window still open. He often left it that way. Allowing the cool night breeze to blow into his bedroom. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. He knew what he would do. He would run away. That way he wouldn't be a burden to anyone any more. Not even Sheriff Daniels.
Wearing a purple pullover shirt, his faded blue jeans, and sneakers on his feet, Cody climbed out his bedroom window. Being careful to avoid the sharp thorns the species is known for, he shimmied down the sturdy mesquite tree found there. Lightly touching on the fresh mowed grass, Cody was on his way out of Astatula.
(To Be Continued)
| Author Notes |
After Sheriff Daniels snaps at Cody, the boy runs away from home. Only to encounter a much worse situation.
This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to compliment my story. So, thanks Lilibug6, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my little story. |
By Brett Matthew West
Cody headed for the Historic District of Astatula. The train tracks lay on the outskirts of town. He knew the Flying Eagle freight train's scheduled afternoon run to Dallas departed soon. If he hurried, he could catch a ride in one of the boxcars.
Cody had never gone all the way to the "Big D" before. However, this was not the boy's first time riding the rails, either. Cody had hopped onboard lots of times. When he lived in Palo Pinto.
Arriving at the train depot at 3:06 pm, Cody was right on time. He saw the silver-white plume of smoke. It billowed out of the stack on top of the coal-black train engine. Soon he would sneak aboard.
The train slowly started to leave the station. Cody ran alongside it. He could feel the chuga-chuga motion the Flying Eagle made as it began rumbling down the track. Reaching up with his left hand, Cody grabbed the metal handrail on the outer wall of the boxcar. This was his ticket out of town.
Swinging his legs up, Cody entered the container. No sooner did he land on all fours in the middle of the boxcar than Cody heard, "My! My! My! Lookie what we have us here. Where did you come from you sweet-looking little cutie pie you? You sure 'nough look delicious. I want to eat you all up!"
Cody was startled by the perverse way the man spoke to him. He nervously withdrew as far back as he possibly could away from the stranger. It wasn't far enough to make Cody feel comfortable.
The hobo's clothes were dirty and well-worn. Chocked full of holes. His grey beard was scraggly and bushy. Unkempt, the thin hair on top of his head looked like it had never seen a comb. Cody could smell the stench of booze on the hobo's hot breath. And his body odor was rampant.
"Now come on over here Sugar and give Uncle Moe-Moe a little bit of lip-lock!" the hobo coaxed Cody, saying, "I bet you just taste so yummy!" Then he kissed the air twice.
Cody thought he would throw up. He remembered the last time he found himself in this type of danger was when Earl Anthony Schroder performed unspeakable acts on him. Cody still suffered from the nightmares his father created by these actions.
Rigorously shaking his head from side to side, Cody adamantly replied with a crystal clear, "NO!"
Then he saw the hobo's .38 Special in his hand, "I'm not gonna harm you little boy," the bum said.
Cody sensed that was a flat-out lie. As the train raced down the tracks Cody's eyes cut over to the open door of the boxcar.
Noticing Cody looking for an escape route, the hobo solemnly warned him, "Don't even think about it. There ain't a-no doubt you'll get carried out dead if you bolt for that door, darling!"
Cody had been in tight places before and knew he must remain calm to have any chance of surviving this predicament. He wished Sheriff Daniels was there to protect him. But he wasn't. Cody was on his own. The thought made him sad. He wished he'd never run away.
"Now, me wee little leprechaun. You just settle back and enjoy the ride until we get to where we're going," the hobo told Cody in his best thick Irish accent. He looked contented. Like he'd found his pot of gold. Giving an elfin laugh a slight smile creased the hobo's face.
"Where's that?" Cody unhesitantly demanded to know.
"I got's me a little camp on down the line a piece," the hobo answered him, "and, I am a-gonna take great pleasure in all the things I'm a-gonna do to you."
Cody swallowed hard. That was news he did not want to hear.
(To Be Continued)
| Author Notes |
After running away from home, and hopping a ride on the Flying Eagle headed to Dallas, Cody encounters a hobo with evil on his mind.
This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to compliment my story. So, thanks Lilibug6, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my little story. |
By Brett Matthew West
"Don't be so afraid of your own shadow, Cody," the hobo responded in a calmer tone.
Surprised by what the bum said, Cody quickly asked him, "How did you know my name was Cody?"
"Well, after getting yourself all shot up by the Astatula Assassin. And almost fricasseed alive by BeeBo The Clown. Not to mention all the other escapades you've gotten yourself mixed up in the middle of since coming to Astatula, who in these parts don't know who you are?" the hobo replied. He paused to catch his wind and finished his comment with, "Hate to tell you this, Kiddo, but your reputation precedes you far and wide."
"And, who are you?" Cody wanted to know.
"I'm just a free spirit blowing with the breeze," the hobo responded, "so, don't go getting no fancified ideas that we're a-gonna be buds or something. Cause we ain't. I got big plans for you, gorgeous."
The Flying Eagle sped on. Cody tried to keep his life from flashing before his eyes. He had so much of it left to live. He hoped. Although right now he was stewing like a pickle with no way out of the jar. And, Cobra Switch was not too far in the distance.
"Then you know I live with Sheriff Daniels," Cody boasted.
"Aw, so true. Or so you did. Until you runned away. Now you live with me," the hobo countered Cody's comment, then queried, "and-a, big, bad, Sheriff Daniels ain't here to save your bacon no more is he?" Quickly he menacingly added, "But I am! And, believe me. It ain't your bacon I want, small fry!"
"You do something to hurt me my Dad will hunt you down like the rabid dog you are! And, you'll be sorry you ever laid a hand on me!" Cody strongly warned the hobo hoping his bravado didn't ring hollow.
The hobo simply scoffed and remarked, "I'll be long gone and lonesome long before he even knows what I done."
Cody didn't reply.
The speeding bullet crossed the trestle over Cottonwood Creek. Then raced through the dark Diamond Downs Tunnel. Cody knew the area well. Watching the greenery fly by he realized they were nearing Cobra Switch, where the hobo told him they would disembark the train. All they had to pass now to get there was Cedar Junction.
The bum started to stir from his stretched out vantage point, in a seated position, on the floor of the boxcar. He looked at Cody and said, "Get yourself into a squatted position at the door. When I say the magic word "froggy" you jump. But, don't try nothing funny. Like escaping. Cause I'll shoot you in the back if you do."
Cody did exactly what the hobo ordered him to do. Looking ahead he noticed a clearing just off to the side of where he would land when he jumped out the door. Patiently he waited for the hobo's command.
Standing up, the bum positioned himself behind Cody. The moment of truth was near. Cody sneaked a peek at the hobo. He saw the bum was slightly off balance. That's all Cody needed to make his move.
He leaped up into the surprised hobo. The force with which he did so knocked the bum out the open door on the other side of the boxcar. The hobo fell flat on his back. He tumbled, feet over head, down the embankment running along that side of the tracks. When he did, his .38 Special flew out of his hand and splashed into the Mason Reservoir at the bottom of the hill.
Carefully steading himself, Cody caught his balance. He half-rolled onto the floor of the boxcar but remained inside. Collecting his bearings with several deep breaths. Feeling like the lost little boy that he was, Cody wanted to go home. With Sheriff Daniels. Where he belonged. How he missed his Dad! Tears began welling up in his blue eyes.
(To Be Concluded)
| Author Notes |
After fighting with the hobo, Cody realizes how much he misses his home.
This is Evan, by Lilibig6, selected to compliment my story. So, thanks Lilibug6, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my little story. |
By Brett Matthew West
In deep contemplation, Cody sat with his feet flat on the floor of the boxcar. His knees curled up. He tightly hugged his legs with his arms. Slowly he lowered his chin onto the back of his wrist. He would ride the train in this position until it stopped in Cobra Switch. Dallas no longer appealed to him.
He knew it would be a long walk back to Astatula. If only he had his prized bicycle the journey would be completed a lot faster. But he didn't. He also knew danger still lurked out there somewhere between the two little towns because he had to pass the place he'd pushed the hobo off the train.
Was the tramp hiding in the woods out there...waiting? Cody thought he would be. The boy knew where the camp the bum told him about was, and tried not to allow fear of the unknown bother him.
Sheriff Daniels once told him, "Why worry about things you can't control? You only get warts dwelling on things like that." He was right.
Hearing the Flying Eagle's brakes come on, Cody listened closely as the train came to a screeching halt. Standing up, he stepped down off the train and began his long trek back home. Once he passed the nine cars that made up the train he would walk down the wooden ties between the rails.
Noticing white rocks laying beside the tracks, Cody bent down and selected several fairly round ones. He stuffed them into the front pocket of his jeans. If he had his slingshot with him he could occupy himself blasting a variety of targets as he strolled merrily along his way.
Cody knew there would not be another train heading back towards Astatula until midnight. Which was way past his bedtime. And a growing boy like him needed all the beauty sleep he could get. He also wondered how many steps twelve miles would be? A lot!
With nothing better to do, he started counting them, one at a time, with each railroad tie he approached. Now where was his pedometer? Oh yea, that's right, Cody remembered. He let his best friend Matt Cochran borrow it.
Cody hiked about two miles, he guessed, when he saw the hobo standing in the middle of the tracks with a sinister sneer on his face. He needed a weapon. The rocks in his pocket weren't much, but they would do.
"GO ON! GET OUT OF HERE AND LEAVE ME ALONE!" Cody screamed at the top of his ample lungs. His words echoed down the valley.
Cody was itching to have a little fun. The first rock went flying. Hard and fast. It found its mark. Right in the middle of the hobo's forehead. Cody pulled another one out of his pocket.
The hobo reached up with his hand and felt the sticky blood seeping from the cut Cody opened in his head. "I'll kill you! You little motherf _ _ _ _ _!" the hobo loudly retorted. (It was the first word that came to mind).
Cody's next rock caught the hobo in the middle of his chest. He fired it as hard and as fast as the first projectile had been launched. Again, Cody's aim was true. Immediately it began raining rocks. All over the hobo.
Cody screamed with each rock he threw, "LEAVE ME ALONE! GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!"
It had been a long time since Cody was that mad. When the rocks in his pockets were gone, he reached down and picked more up as fast as he could fire them. Each one connected and the hobo rapidly goose-stepped into the thick brush to escape Cody's raging anger.
Suddenly, Cody felt a strong hand grab him by the top of his blond head and spin him around on his heels. It was Sheriff Daniels. Never before was Cody ever happier to see anyone. He tightly hugged the Sheriff around his waist and buried his face deep into the lawman's chest.
"I'm so sorry I ran away, Dad," Cody cried.
Sheriff Daniels placed his hands on Cody's back and told him, "That's what I wanted to hear you say, son. Now let's go home. We have a whole lot to talk about when we get there."
Cody took one last passing glance over his shoulder to make sure the hobo was really gone. Knowing he was safe, Cody slowly walked back with Sheriff Daniels to his waiting cruiser.
EPILOG:
Cody wondered how long the night would be sleeping on his belly? Changing into his tiger-striped pajamas he would soon find out. What other choice did he have? Cody also knew he would never run away again. Sheriff Daniels made sure of that.
| Author Notes |
With a lesson well learned, the hard way, Cody makes his way back home.
As always, I invite you to sit back, relax, kick your shoes off, prop your feet up and enjoy Cody's escapades. As I like to say, "Much more to come so stay tuned." So many FanStorians do. This is Evan, by Lilibug6, selected to compliment my story. So, thanks Lilibug6, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my little story. |
By Brett Matthew West
Cody turned the water faucets off and opened the shower door. Soaking wet, but clean again, he reached up and extracted his royal blue towel off the rack from where it hung on the side wall. Slowly, he dried himself off from the top of his blond hair to the soles of his bare feet. The hour was getting late, Being a school night, he wasn't long for bed.
His task accomplished, Cody put his snow-white Fruit-of-the-Looms, and his favorite PJs on, then yawned widely. It had been a fun-filled day for the youngster. He picked his wooden hairbrush up off the countertop and brushed his hair into place. After that, he turned the brush upside down like it was a microphone and noticed his reflection in the steamed over mirror.
Remaining barefooted, like he almost always was when he was home, and any other time he could get away with it, Cody sang a little ditty he'd heard on the school bus transporting him home from Astatula Middle School that afternoon. One he knew he shouldn't sing.
"Momma sang bass. Daddy sang tenor. The whole damn family was trans..."
Cody's diamond-blue eyes looked up. Suddenly, he thought he saw his Dad standing in the doorway of his room.
"gen..." he continued.
"der," then came out and Cody quickly assessed, 'Uh-oh!'
Sheriff Daniels entered the room. He sat down on the edge of Cody's sleek racecar-shaped bed. The sleeper had the Number 13 painted in white letters on the side of it. With a frown on his face he pointed his finger at the boy, then curved it and pointed to the floor in front of him. Cody knew he was in big time T-R-O-U-B-L-E! Without making a sound, he moved to where his Dad told him to reposition himself.
"What did I just hear you say?" Sheriff Daniels asked him.
Never one to not truthfully answer any question his Dad posed, Cody repeated what he had sung. This time he spoke the words.
"Mama sang bass. Daddy sang tenor. The whole damn family was transgender."
"Where did you learn that nonsense from?" his Dad wanted to know, saying, "Little Man, I've never heard you say anything like that before. And, your use of profanity is not tolerated, especially in our home. Is it?"
"No, sir, it's not," Cody admitted. Then, he apologized, "I'm sorry, Dad." He paused, handed the brush to the Sheriff and wondered, "Am I going to be sleeping on my stomach tonight?"
Sheriff Daniels gave a wry smile and replied, "There's a real good possibility of that happening."
Cody certainly didn't want any part of that prospect so he offered a bargain, "Instead of going outside and playing when I get home from school tomorrow, and do all my homework, I'll write five hundred lines."
"We will discuss options in a moment," Sheriff Daniels countered.
He wanted Cody's immediate undivided attention and knew how to receive the desired result. He reached down and placed two not-so-gentle reminders on the boy's posterior with the palm of his hand and asked, "How many times have I told you I do not want you singing those types of songs?"
Cody fixed his diamond-blue eyes on his Dad and replied, "At least a hundred million gazillion times."
"That's one time too many. Maybe now, you'll get the message," Sheriff Daniels said.
"You won't hear me sing anymore songs like that again, Dad," Cody promised.
Sheriff Daniels then asked, "Do you even know what a transgender is, son?"
Unsure, Cody shrugged his shoulders and replied, "You mean like Bruce Jenner becoming Caitlyn?"
"Exactly. A transgender is a boy who becomes a girl or a girl who becomes a boy," the Sheriff told him.
"That's sick, Dad!" Cody exclaimed, "Why would anybody do that?"
"You ask a very good question, son," Sheriff Daniels answered him, "most people have a hard time not only believing, but accepting, that it is okay for someone to be transgender."
"What do you think about them, Dad?" Cody wanted to know.
"A lot of people discriminate against them. However, they are still protected under the law. As the Sheriff, I have to make sure they are treated like everyone else," his Dad told him, "what I don't want is you mistreating anybody. Are you understanding me, son?"
"I guess so, Dad," Cody replied, "what you're saying is to treat all people the same way."
"I'm not going to try to tell you what to think about transgenders, or anyone else for that matter. You have to make those decisions for yourself," the Sheriff stated, "what I'd like to see you do is to be as accepting of people as you can be."
"That doesn't mean I have to agree with boys becoming girls, does it?" Cody asked. He wasn't sure he could ever coincide with that happening.
"No, Cody, it does not mean you have to accept boys becoming girls. However, I don't want you to disrespect anybody," Sheriff Daniels remarked.
"I like being a boy," Cody said proudly.
"I like you being a boy, too," Sheriff Daniels agreed.
Cody hugged his Dad tightly.
"That's all I wanted to talk to you about this subject tonight. It's bedtime, and now..."
(I deliberately left this story open-ended for reader interpretation. You decide what happened.)
| Author Notes | No, I have not stopped writing my Western Pecos Valley. This is just something that's been running through my mind. And as writers know, when your muse won't let you be about something you need to write it, so I did. |
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