The Jilting of Jenny by LIJ Red |
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Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language. The widow Hardy's old frame home, unchurched and fitted with a peeling sign, "The Endoda Road House" squatted under the some two giant maples out in the tail-end of Bleaker where the Sump Crick Road dead-ended.The roadhouse was roaring, almost a whole sone. Seven customers and quondam USAF first sergeant Moag, the proprietor and bartender, were there. "The surge of gravity arrived at the same instant the fastest photons came. We are dead meat," Newt Bandy said sadly. His date, the brilliant but every-limb-on-the-ugly-tree Amanda Whittier nodded glumly as big Moag set them out a pitcher of draft and two glasses. "God have mercy on my soul, I am beginning to understand part of their gibbering." Moag remarked to old Tee Mott, who was working on his own pitcher and the jar of pickled eggs. "Maybe they will find some wonder drug that can cure you." Tee said. "It was in the news. Two fast-moving neutron stars whose opposing courses were at right angles to our relative path collided. What do you get when the irresistible force strikes a second irrestible force head on?" Amanda asked enthusiastically. "An unbelievable crash?" Tee asked. "Why are we smokehouse fatback?" Newt replied, "It's just another confirmation that C is the limit. Nothing, not even gravity, goes faster than 186, 262 miles per second. Play taps for homo saps. What we see is all we get. The population clock a few minutes ago rolled past 7574658500. Two people for every acre of arable land. Adieu, adieu, adieu kind friends doodoo." Amanda began to sing, "There is a tavern in the boons." "Last I heard our species best was a shuttle re-entering at eight miles per second." Tee said, biting a yellow egg that had soaked in vinegar and toxic herbs until it had nearly the consistency of a radial tire. They were interrupted by the hoarse grumble of an antique V8 engine in the yard of the Endoda Road, followed by the creak and slam of a familiar door. Old Tee finished the egg, took a drink of beer, and said, seriously unhappy,"Well, damn it." "Some daddy you are. Do you run out on the porch with a toothpick if your son comes calling at suppertime?" Newt laughed. "The boy and little Jenny were supposed to be crossing the F-L-A line about now, on his old motorsickle," Tee said. "She probably figured he was going to beg her to marry him again, and refused to go. He's been getting ready for this vacation for a time, now. But here his sorry aiss is." "She loves the poor lunk. You can tell it every move she makes. Why won't she tie the knot?" Moag rumbled. "Tell her I spilt this and I'll shoot the lot of ya. He came home from the Navy and met Ginny, Jenny's momma. Thirty- five to his twenty-five, and a looker. He lived with her for several months. Then Jenny came home from school." "Oh, Jeez," Amanda said. "And old Ginny ain't the marrying kind. She's one tough gal. When Davy and Jenny looked at each other, little bells rung and Ginny walked out. She loved Davy, but she loved Jenny more. She disppeared. " "But the harm was done. Coo-coo-ka-chew, Missus Robinson." Amanda sang. Davy had been at the mill, inside the coater oven, by the amout of soot and grease he wore on his rental uniform.He had a look unusual for the amiable bachelor of thirty, a tired look with some bitter in it. "I figured you'd be grinning through Gulf Coast bugs by now." Tee said. "Boss asked me to work, and I didn't care about going to Daytona by myself," Davy said. "What happened?" "Jenny pulled the same old shit. Well, I think I got all the parts of no down pat. It took me a while, but I got it." "Have a beer and an egg. You'll be back to normal come morning." "I'm about that big a fool. Dang that finicky runt, anyhow." Davy said, digging through leaves and stems in fluid the color of urine for a pickled egg. A gnat flew over the mouth of the jar and spiralled into the floor, where it buzzed a death dance. The four pensioners playing pinochle fell silent with the rest of the clientele in the Endoda. Someone was ax-chopping the droopy porch. A most amazing sight entered the sagging screen door. The young woman had her brown hair curled and piled high on her head. Her strapless dress covered her auroles, almost, barely. It had a crotch, or it could not have stayed in place, it was that short. She had shapely hips, a wasp waist, large jutting jugs and endless slim legs. Her pelt was whiter and purer than the motley honkies of the Endoda. Her six-inch stilettoes made her well over six feet tall. "How do you do, Davy Mott? And your sire, squire Tee Mott." the voice was crisp, totally without accent, and neither shrill nor husky. A singer's voice. "Hello, Tepul," Davy said. "Did you receive my E-mail?" "Yes, I did. And I have changed my mind. I will take the job." "Oh, excellent. When can we depart?" Davy turned to his father. "Pop, feed Splotch and old Screak for me. Crank the Raunchero and drive it around a little every week to keep the battery up." "Davy. Shit, boy, don't do this. You know that kid is crazy about you. Don't be a damn fool." Tee Mott said. "The job I need to do is really important, Pop. Lives depend on it getting done. And there ain't no way to guess how long it will take." Tee glared at Tepul's full red lips and sultry brown eyes. "I'll bet." "I give up. Jenny ain't ever going to get used to me shagging her mom. Time for us both to move on. And this job is something really cool. So cool I can't talk about it." "It will benefit all mankind, and save eight hundred lives outright, if we are lucky," Tepul cooed. "Whale the conquering hero. So Jenny...Jenny loses." "Any smart man would jump for Jenny. I ain't no prize, old man. It'll be better for her when all's said and done." "If you say so, it will. Take care, boy." Tee looked like he was playing high stakes poker. Davy hooked Tepul's arm with his own. He grinned. "Woe, he is pissed." "Live long and prosper, Squire Mott," Tepul said, but never smiled. Tee Mott shook his grizzled head, like an old hound who bit a polecat. "Take it easy, Pop," Davy said. "Yeah, sure." The tall spike heels thudded rather sensually on the sawdusted floor as Davy escorted Tepul out of the roadhouse. The Raunchero's doors slammed and Davy went through the three gears, up Chapel Ridge Trail toward his dwelling. The roar in the roadhouse rose to a full sone. There were many wows. Talk about a dish. The car/truck was sitting under its pole shed when Tee went to Davy's shack to feed Splotch, the sooner, and Skreak the aging mouser. His worthless son had left the old animals for him to tend, and worse, the task of telling little Jenny he was gone. And worse yet, he left a hard-vacuum empty space on Chapel Ridge and in an old man's heart.
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LIJ Red
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