c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(5-24)
Jimmy and Joel Oromacki were brothers both in their heritage and on the road. They spent most days rolling around America as professional truckers on a mission. Dedicated to delivering goods for their logistics firm, as loyal employees. But when on a break, at home, the duo shed this snakeskin of obedience. During off hours, they manifested the wild lust of young men who had been denied female companionship for too long.
These blue-collar heroes would drink and eat and screw, until the limit of their physical endurance had been reached. Then, sapped completely of drive, and numb with pleasure, they would crash until the next assignment came from their company dispatcher.
Becky Bolt had an insatiable appetite for that kind of lustful energy. She grew bored easily, and sought to be pampered and entertained whenever possible. She would seek out the brothers when they blew into town, and serve them willingly. Their fantasies were her fantasies. This collision of male and female desires usually produced an orgiastic firestorm that caused the neighborhood to avoid their end of the street, altogether.
At Evergreen Estates, these encounters had become the stuff of legend.
But Francis Nathaniel Paducah paid little attention to the horseplay of his neighbors. Instead of seeking out feminine companionship, he labored in his storage barn on projects of necessity. He was tall and lean and hardened by years of strenuous work. His fingernails were always full of motor oil and grease. His uniform clothes were never clean, at least not for long. He would combine elements found in the park dumpsters, or on lots where homes had been removed. Then, a sort of magic transpired. He would visualize puzzle pieces coming together. With the sorcery of a wizard, he made that happen through masterstrokes of innovation.
Loud music echoed from next door. And giggling from the petite, blonde bombshell who served both as a temptation, and a thorn in his side. Yet he stayed focused on his task. The galvanized tub sat on his workbench. He had unearthed the frame and wheels of an old baby buggy, behind their community’s maintenance garage. Coffee cans from a previous version of his grill creation sat in a row, by the wooden doors.
He welded and riveted and fastened everything together like a mad scientist. Finally, the grate from a basement window in Painesville was positioned on top of this Frankenstein appliance. He cleaned away rust and deteriorating paint with a wire brush. And smoothed the bare, metal surfaces with a food-safe, vegetable compound.
“EUREKA, GAWDAMMIT! I’VE DONE IT, Y’ALL! MY CREATURE HAS COME TA LIFE!”
The Guru Grill looked like a rubbish bin on oversized, spindly wheels. But it was big enough to hold eight vessels for charcoal. A hood fashioned from tin sheeting offered smoker capability, if needed. He reckoned that a whole meal could be cooked without using any other culinary tools. He already had a collection of long-handled implements fashioned from car antennas and mirror housings. The sight of this accomplishment made him swell with pride.
But before he could bask in the glow of his own success for too long, Becky came running through the uncut grass. She was nearly naked, red-faced, and barefoot.
“HELP ME, DUKE! THOSE ORRY BOYS HAVE GONE NUTS, DUDE! WHAT THE FRIG? THEY MUST’VE SLAMMED A WHOLE BOTTLE OF VIAGRA! SHEESH! I JUST WANTED TO DANCE AND DRINK, YOU KNOW? IT GETS BORING AF AROUND HERE! BUT THAT SHIT JUST SCARED ME! DAMN, THEY’VE BOTH LOST THEIR MARBLES! IT’S LIKE BEING AT A BIKER BAR OR AN OUTLAW MUSIC SHOW! THEY WANTED A THREESOME WITH TOYS AND A VIDEO CAMERA!”
Nate spat on the ground. He did not want to surrender his attention to anything other than the squarish, storage barn he called a laboratory. Yet the pleas of his neighbor reverberated in both ears. She was crying through smeared makeup, and fell into his arms. He pushed her into a blind corner that no one could see from outside.
“Please, man! Please!”
While the young filly was sobbing, Jimmy and Joel appeared from the ratty trailer next door. Both galloping studs were draped in towels that bulged conspicuously. They were muscular and brutish. With close-cropped beards and heads shaved to a glistening sheen of baldness. Many tattoos lined their powerful arms.
Joel shouted an oath of defiance.
“WHERE’S THE BITCH? SHE GOT OUR PARTY STARTED, AND DAMN HER, WE’RE GONNA FINISH IT! I WANT SOME CHEEKS! SHE’S GOT A PRETTY LITTLE ASS, DON’T YOU THINK, DUKE FRANCIS? OR ARE YOU A FRIGGING HOMO?”
Nate’s mood darkened with storm clouds of resentment. His greasy locks had been pulled back into a ponytail, to avoid getting caught in his grilling contraption.
“I’ve been working out here all afternoon. Don’t know what ya mean, friend. Now if y’all don’t mind, I’m gonna polish up this yard stove, and try burning some steaks!”
Jimmy punched a hole in the barn door. His broad knuckles bled afterward. But the pain only heightened his arousal.
“THE BITCH! WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS THAT STANKY PIECE OF TAIL?”
Becky burst out from the shadowy hiding spot, while trying to cover her exposed breasts. She wobbled and scampered to escape.
“You boys ain’t right! I like to have a good time, but eff that crazy shit! I don’t do handcuffs and clamps and ropes, okay? That’s some sick-ass crap!”
The brothers laughed out loud, in unison. Then knocked their prey off her feet. She landed in an overgrown flower garden, by the driveway. Gravel scarred her knees.
Joel shook his fist and cursed.
“GET BACK TO MY GAWDAMM TRAILER, HONEY! DON’T MAKE ME SAY IT AGAIN!”
Nate shuddered and spun on his heel. He turned cold and pale. Memories of serving in Afghanistan began to flood his consciousness. He picked up a prop rod made of steel, and twirled it like a police baton. His voice lowered to a whisper. He looked directly into the frightened waif’s eyes.
“You want no part of these men? No more fun on the couch or in the bedroom? No more drinks and doing the two-step with WKKY Country on the radio?”
Becky sniffled and sat up in the floral display. Her clothes had been shredded. Her face was bruised.
“NO I DON’T! THEY CAN GO TO HELL FOR ALL I CARE!”
There was a scuffle as the Orry twins battled to be first in line for throttling the mouthy femme. Each one felt superior to the other, in speed and agility. Their voices paired as a final command was given.
“GET BACK TO OUR TRAILER, BITCH! GET YOUR SKINNY ASS MOVING RIGHT NOW!”
Nate bowed his head and held the lengthy stick in his right hand.
“That’s yer cue, folks. Y’all have been kicked ta the curb. Have a good day...”
Joel struck his opponent on the jaw. This first hit rocked the lanky fellow, without causing him to soften. Then, there was a whoosh of air being displaced. The prop rod came down on his bare cranium. When Jimmy sought to enter the fray, more blows were delivered. The metal spike fanned like a propeller blade. Blood and teeth flew through the air.
The grillmaster and Army veteran seethed with a sort of white-hot rage no one had ever seen before, at the trailer oasis. Yet he stayed composed in his thoughts and actions.
“In Kabul, I watched a dozen of my platoon die when we stumbled on a field of IED carnage. That’s the kind of death y’all never forget. Comprende? Nobody should perish like that. It’s evil shit! God himself must have been weeping. But I made it back here, I got to fly stateside. With their bodies in coffins. That taught me a lesson. Don’t mess with other people, and they won’t mess with yer asses! We never should’ve gone ta liberate a desolate hellhole like that! But we did, and paid the price. They didn’t give a tinker’s damn about us! They pissed on our flag! They ran like cowards when the heat got turned up! So, there’s my story, gents. Go home and pound salt if you need to, but leave this girl alone. She’s tired of yer party. Y’all have stopped entertaining her for the evening...”
Jimmy and Joel licked their wounds, while crawling down the concrete. They were battered and broken. And embarrassed to have even set foot in the patchy yard.
Becky offered a tearful wail of gratitude.
“I owe you, Duke! Name it, and you’ll have it! I owe you my life!”
Nate frowned and folded his arms. He did not seek compensation of any kind. Only an admission of guilt, and a hint of remorse.
“Y’all lit the fuse, Becks! Keep that in yer mind, the next time! Think about it when ya want some Tito’s Handmade Vodka and a gawdamm cowboy to keep ya amused! Think about it when yer butt gets lonely and the nights get long. Think about it, and don’t go looking fer trouble!”
No comments:
Post a Comment