Rumbullion

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Chapter 11

What in the Sam fucking hell is going on here? Lou gulped a long swig of his gimlet to help digest the facts, but the digestion failed, and all he could manage was a shake and a slosh of his Ole Miss glass at the TV. Jackie’s press conference had just been shown, and the local evening news amateur hour cut to break.

Those dipshits can’t follow simple fucking instructions. That fatass cape-wearing gorilla in moccasins destroys my mailbox, and now this? he said at the TV and Delly. Where the fuck’s my rum, and what the fuck’s a priceless piece of porcelain? An object? In toto? he said stabbing Lungsee’s note at the television. God, Donna looked like shit. You notice that? Lou’s face sank, deflated. You think Jackie knows she banging Johnny Scaglinardo? I don’t know. I forgave her. I always forgave my sweet, sweet Donnybrook...

Lou first met Donna back by the racquetball court. He’d only been with the boys a month or so, and she’d been down in Tupelo seeing her sick twin sister, and so when they met, he applied a heaping dose of pity. Girls like that. Let them know you know things aren’t fair. She was wearing sky blue jeans, a lacey white halter-top and her hair was big loopy floppy curls. It framed her small face like a pretty picture, made it like a doll’s face. And then the neck, shoulders, tits, waist, hips, legs and he loved her toes. Dark green polish next to the tan skin and tucked into brown sandals. She was the one. He knew it. He smiled and he felt her bloom. Her private part just opened up. Done deal.

But Donna’s private part did not just open up. She instantly pegged Lou as another jerk among jerks desperately trying to hitch onto The King and their thing. She’d seen more than a few Lous get sucked up into The King’s machine only to be spit out like turned milk. And she remembered well his first words: I have scoured the depths of the oceans and have never seen nor met a pearl as uncut as you. My love. Donna’d had a few pearl necklaces in her day, so she flat out said, You’re a moron. Touch me, and I scream.

And that was the exact moment when Lou became deeply loyal to his self-pity. He would mutter and mummer and mumble sad little turns of phrase… I have no one… no one has me… I’m a lost little lamb… I don’t know where to go… I want to kill. Lou’s anti-women thoughts and comments and rants escalated. All the way up to Tiffany Stuckey. Right in the ass, eh fellas? And he was done. He requested one last piss, took it in the downstairs shitter and then drove away forever.

Grit slut hillbilly bitch… Lou murmured into his lap.

Delly stood at the credenza and considered the white plaster between the dark oak beams and thought about hate, people hating each other. The Cocoa Puffs commercial quit and Lou said, Man’s fate is to leave desperate lives of quiet…tation. God damn it! What the fuck is going on?!

Don’t know, boss.

Do you see an empty turnip truck driving down the road?!

I do not, boss.

Damn straight, you do not! You see me swaddled up in diapers living out in the bushes?!

I do not, boss. Delly popped a cinnamon toothpick in his mouth and smiled at just how easy his job was supposed to be.

Me neither! Fuck her, fuck them and fuck it!

Alright. So what do we do, boss?

What do we do? Do? Simple. Avenge the revengers! Lou stood and punched and kicked the air karate style. Go find those assholes and turn them over to the cops. After a furious flurry of fists and feet, Lou wore himself out, dropped his hands to his knees and panted. It’s a fucking crime spree is what it is, what they’ve embarked on…

Damn straight on that, boss. A spree. Tried to rip you off, then just kept right on going.

And fuck Jackie Dunlop. Priceless figurine my butt. Ole E didn’t even have any figurines, anyway.

Priceless figarine, scoffed Delly shaking his head.

Lou sat on the coffee table, crossed his legs and orated like a highbrow reasoner. Point is, we have laws, Delly, laws pertaining to property, and property infringement, statue… deterioration, breaking and entering, and, you know, whatnot. Strong arm entry… And they just don’t care. Zero regard for what’s right. Just plain and simple what’s right. It’s all so simple, man. You know? Simple. Well, it’s MPD for them, man. And I wash my hands.

Wash yo hands.

I still got sixty-eight bottles down there. And if those peckerwoods try to rat me out, well then, all I say is, there was no break-in here. Golly, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not pressing charges. Honestly, I feel sorry for them, I do. Just pity those souls, cause there’s nothing you can do. Nothing. Just pity.

Damn straight on that, boss. I even pity the pity I gots for ’em.

The news dragged on to other stories, and Lou got lost in the commercials, but Delly looked back to the wall and thought more about the simple notion of black and white and what Dr. King had said all those years ago. He scratched his hair and nodded and shifted his weight.

Actually, now that I think about it, you could be the hero on this one, boss. I mean, seeing as how you know who took the figarine, and Jackie and his boys don’t, well, you got the up hand. Be glad they didn’t burn the bitch down, and be glad they didn’t get that bottle, neither. All that would’ve down was point right back on you. Proved you was behind it all. Now, these hippie spree freaks took it upon themselves to snatch that figarine and it show seems like Jackie want it back. He want it back so much, He’s may just be willing to let the bygones be just that, you see what I’m saying?

Huh?

See, Dr. King down there at the temple, when I saw him speak, he talked about getting stabbed and not sneezing and all that up there in Harlem. See, this crazy woman stabbed him and the blade was real close to his heart, stuck in there deep, and the doctor said that if he even so much as sneezed while they was pulling it out, he would’ve die. Well, word got out, and this little white girl wrote him a letter saying she was glad he didn’t sneeze because if he did, he would’ve die and he wouldn’t have been alive to do great things in the future times. Sneeze and die. See?

He had a cold?

No, man. See, sneezin’ is easy. Sneezin’ is what the body wants to do. What yo mind says to do. Just like revengence. Revengence is natural, like a sneeze. Some nigga cross you, you get ’em back. But things don’t maybe have work that way. Fight that sneeze, that instinct. See, you let a natural reaction happen, like get mad with revengeance, or sneeze, then you as good as dead. Just like with Dr. King. The doctors told him if you sneeze, you die, see? Now, just don’t sneeze, and see how things work out. That’s all I’m saying. That’s all boss. Fight the sneeze. Don’t give in.

Fight the sneeze? But he got shot and killed.

Yeah, that’s right, but that was the second time. I’m talking about the first time. He did lots of good in between. You see.

The fuck you talking about, man?

Look a here. You get that priceless figarine, you get it on back to Jackie, then he may be kindly to you again. Let you come on back in. You be the hero, see?

Hee-row. Yeah, I like it…

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