“Goddamn firearm tax.. those government pricks really
got a nerve now, taking those crazy blowhards seriously,” Mumbled Oscar Stubbs
from behind the counter of his gun shop, the Hell’s Kitchen Trading Post.
“But
slapping a new tax on our guns ain’t all they want to do. No Hank, these fascist hippies want to make
us responsible for anyone who gets shot with a firearm sold at the trading
post. Now what kind of law is
that? Laws exist to create order in our
society, but this can only cause chaos.
People are gonna be outraged!
Are they gonna try and tell the gun sellers of this country that they
can’t sell a weapon without being held responsible if anyone gets killed by
it? I mean, what do guns do besides
kill people? That’s their purpose, to kill people! Why do they even allow them
to be sold if they’re so afraid someone’s gonna get killed? Jesus, and now all
the sudden they start blaming it on people like you and me who are just trying
to make a living selling guns. For
seventy-two years I lived and worked in this state paying taxes so I could be
able to sell a firearm without worrying that some lunatic who was stupid enough
to get shot is gonna sue me. I tell you
Hank, every day Kentucky is getting more overrun by these lobbyist assholes
paying our government to work against us. What pricks.”
“Y’dern right Oscar,” replied his friend Hank, a smoking
Marlboro hanging loosely off his lip.
“They ain’t got no right to do nothin’ like that. By that argument they should blame Marlboro
for all the people that die from smoking their cigarettes but you don’t see
that happening, do you?”
“No I don’t… I see Marlboro paying ‘em not to. Eh? Who’s this here?”
The door swung open and in strode a tall, brown-haired,
lightly bearded man of about thirty-five. He swaggered up to the counter,
leaned up on it and flashed a friendly 29-tooth smile.
“I
uh, I need some guns,” said the man.
Oscar scowled at the man’s blatant stupidity. But what the hell, he thought, the guy was gonna pay him, what
did he care?
“I reckon you’ve come to the right place son.” Oscar
said. “What can I get for you?” The
newcomer drew a small sheet of paper out from behind a half-crushed pack of
camels in the breast pocket of his red and green plaid flannel overshirt.
“I need six beretta .38 automatics, two benelli 12-guage
pump-action shotguns - and you can saw those off right? – three Heckler-Koch
mp5 navy issue submachine guns, a winchester .56 caliber hunting rifle with a
scope, and, uh, two 88 mm mortar tubes with base plates and about ten rounds
each.” There was silence in the
store. The man flashed Oscar what
seemed to be the brightest smile east of the Mississippi.
“Jesus H. Christ roasting on the spit son, what the hell
do you need all that for?” Hank demanded, while Oscar disappeared into the back
of the store to fetch the requested items.
“Um, a.. uh.. boy scout trip. We need us some uh.. gear for hunting and protection from bears
and such on our uh, Jamboree. I’m a troop leader m’self, yes I am. Troop, uh, 115, that’s right.” The man
answered, continuing to smile charismatically.
“Mortars?” asked Hank inquisitively.
“Um, for salmon fishing.” Replied the customer. Hank stared. “Yup, ain’t nothing better you
can do to feed a hungry troop of scouts than a couple’a mortars to blow all
them goddamn fish right out the water.” He chucked through the holes in his
teeth. “Saves you time, and it’s a
painless death for the fish, too.”
Hank
crushed out his cigarette and continued to stare at the man, then turned to see
Oscar returning from the back of the store.
“Fair enough,” he replied, “We’ll get you what we can. Just know that
because it’s illegal for us to sell you the HK’s and mortars, we’re gonna have to charge you a bit extra
for ‘em. More on top of that too ‘cause
we had to pay some young lieutenant to steal all that shit from the armory at
his post. How much ammunition you gonna
need for your first strike capability general?” The man shook his head.
“Don’t
need none of that. Already got plenty
of ammo back at home. But would you
happen to have any black masks..? Like something me and the troop can, uh, put
over our faces to keep us warm?” Hank
shook his head slowly in disbelief. The
crazy son of a bitch wanted masks.
Jesus. He took out a notebook,
wrote out a large sum of money on a piece of paper, tore it out and handed it
to the man.
“Come on back here,” Oscar said, eying the man with
disgust, and led him into the store’s storage room where his arsenal was
assembled. The man nodded, took out his
billfold and began to peel money off.
“No masks?” he asked in disappointment.
Oscar faced the
man, his wrinkled face a look of stoic displeasure. He raised his eyebrows and delivered: “Whatever kind of little war you’re about to wage son, don’t
bring none of it back here. And if
you’re about to kill a lot of people, at least make sure its someone worthwhile
and fun like politicians or some Mormons or something, don’t be going near no
schools or brothels or nothin’ like that.
Also, because this here is an informal transaction, I ain’t gonna make
you register all this shit. I got no
intention of letting those pricky-shit feds throw my sagging ass in prison. But
I need you to fill out this ID form and confirm it for me so I’ll be able to
hunt you down and kill you if this shit ever gets traced back to me.”
The man eyed Oscar cautiously, then took the form from
him and began to write. When he
finished, Oscar said, “Okay son, you come back here at 2 AM tonight in a pickup
truck with a covered bed and you can load all this here up. For now, beat it.”
The man thanked him quietly and flashed an ardent smile,
then tipped his hat and strode out of the store into the hot sun. When he was gone, Oscar remained in the back
of his store and poured himself a double bourbon straight. Hank strode up and sat down, reaching for
the bottle.
“You
know, Hank, some people are just plain stupid.” Hank drank from the bottle as he listened. “It makes me mad, real mad I tell you. This guy comes in here thinking he can
convince us he’s some troop leader and he buys an arsenal fit to take on some
small African country. He must think
we’re a couple’a damn fools, this young guy who doesn’t know a goddam
thing. Now he’s probably about to go
kill a lot of people. And do I care?
Five years ago I wouldn’t have given half a shit, but now? I really don’t
know. I’ve lived too long already. All I can do now is sit around drinking,
sell guns, and watch the continuing, pointless process of insignificant human
life go on. Because I’m physically and
mentally superior to all the other worms out there I survived seventy-two years
and outlived ‘em, but my time’s winding down, Hank. I’ll be damned if that stupid son of a bitch is gonna outlive me,
but I’m having some second thoughts…”
Hank
put down the bottle and started to laugh, whooping and howling gleefully while
Oscar glared at him spitefully.
“Oscar,”
he managed to say in between laughs, “that’s hilarious! I ain’t never-” In one swift motion, Oscar swept his hand
across the table and sent the bottle of bourbon careening into the wall on
which it smashed, silencing Hank’s outburst and spewing the amber liquid over
the floor. Oscar glared menacingly at
his friend, who looked at him curiously and quietly mumbled “I’m sorry Oscar”
before withdrawing from the room.
Oscar,
regretting his impulsive action, drank the rest of his bourbon and set the
glass back on the table. He was tired
of his life, and quite bored. For forty
years he had done the same thing – sit around and work at the gun shop. There
was nothing new or enjoyable, especially since Jenny, god bless her, was in
California. He glanced up at the
picture of his beautiful daughter on the wall, admiring her shimmering auburn
hair and sharp but soft green eyes. He
sighed. There was nothing excitement,
really nothing good in his life except a daughter that he loved unconditionally
who lived 2500 miles away. He sat at
his table in the back of the trading post wishing he hadn’t wasted the rest of
his booze. He terribly missed Jenny.
And God he hated people.
2. Kentucky Blues
Oscar
hadn’t been able to get a full night’s sleep in over five years, and the
previous night’s informal transaction hadn’t helped his futile efforts. Overall it went smoothly and at 2:23 AM
everything had been loaded into the idiot’s pickup truck and the idiot and he
and his hefty helper had driven away down the road. It had taken him nearly two hours to fall asleep in his flat
above the gun shop after that, and when he did fall asleep it didn’t last very
long. He woke up at 7:30 feeling not
the least bit rested, but his aging body would not permit him any additional
sleep. Oscar had gotten out of bed,
done his routine thirty push-ups, and gone to the kitchen to make coffee and
fry some eggs. After having breakfast
and taking his time with the newspaper, he made his way downstairs and opened
the shop for the day. He passed the
morning in the shop bored and alone as Hank was taking the day off, and
attempted to entertain himself by playing darts.
At
1:34 the phone rang.
Oscar
sighed and casually strolled over to pick it up, not especially wanting to
answer any questions from some moron looking to buy a gun.
“Trading
Post. Whadya want?” He spat into the mouthpiece.
“Daddy?”
came the response. “How are you?” Oscar’s brow became unwrinkled and his eyes
grew wide. Jenny!
“Hey
honey girl, I reckon I’m doin’ alright, how about you?”
“I’ve
never been better Dad!” She said excitedly. “Guess what? I have two pieces of
absolutely great news!” Oscar never
enjoyed guessing too much, and he restrained an annoyed growl at his lovely
daughter’s request.
“The
hell if I know, cookie.. did you get a raise at the record company?”
“No
dad, even better… well, I’ll give you one bit of news first, then the best part
after that. Dad, I’m coming out to
visit you.. tomorrow! I already booked an airplane ticket out of San Diego
tomorrow that gets in to Frankfurt at 3 pm.
Aren’t you excited?” Oscar
grinned, incredulous. Jenny coming… and
on such short notice? It was a dream come true!
“That’s
great Jenny! I’ll be at the airport to pick you up. I’ll take some time today to clean out the old Nova for you and
by the time I’m done with her, it’ll be just like you got your own shiny Chevy
limousine without cup-holders or a rear bumper.”
“No
that’s ok, I already made reservations to rent a car, but thanks.”
“What’s
the rest of the news then? I cant imagine anything better than what you just
told me.”
“Daddy
I’m engaged.” Oscar slowly drew the
phone away from his ear and looked at it, puzzled. His heartbeat increased its pace rapidly until everything grew
white and fuzzy and he realized he was on the ground. Out of the telephone’s earpiece he could hear his daughter’s frantic
voice calling “Daddy? Daddy?” Oscar groaned and reached up for the phone,
dragging it off the edge of the gun shop’s counter and letting it drop onto the
floor next to him with a clanging thud.
He picked it up and placed it next to his ear.
“Yeah”
Oscar managed to say, his head pounding.
“I’m here.” He paused and rubbed
his eyes. “What’s this asshole’s name?
I’ll have someone take him out for a one way fishing trip, don’t you worry.”
“No
daddy, we really love each other.. he’s not like the other boyfriends, you
really don’t need to do that again.. I’m coming out there and bringing him so
you can meet him. I think you two will get along just great,”
“
Yeah.. I know I’ll love the dirty bastard to pieces. Now what’s this man’s
name, and what does he do.”
“His
name is Ross Van Weyden and he’s a Lawyer at Sachs and Brackett, a big firm in
San Diego…” There was no response. “Daddy? Daddy? Oh shit..” Oscar, rubbing his temples, swept his hand
across the floor in search of the phone which had again fallen out of his hand
when he fainted.
“Goddamnit
Jenny.. a lawyer! You should’ve known better than that, I hate lawyers. How many times have I told you that they’re
just money-grubbing bastards who’ll milk you for every goddamn penny you got?”
“Oh
be quiet daddy, you hate everybody.
I don’t think you would be happy with me marrying anybody except an
antique arms dealer that was impotent and mute. I know you’ll just adore Ross,
he’s got a great sense of humor.”
“Good,
that means I can harass him for about two days before he attacks me or gives up
on marrying you.”
“Please
don’t harass him daddy.. I really love him.”
“And
I really love you too cookie and I care about you and that’s why there’s no way
in hell you’re gonna marry a goddam lawyer.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go close up the shop, get drunk and
shoot some rats with a .357… call me before your plane takes off.”
Oscar hung up the phone and sighed. A goddam lawyer. Why,
girl, why? She had to choose some stuck-up asshole college man. Oscar lifted himself up off the floor,
carefully sat down in his armchair and Poured himself some bourbon.
Sometimes
he wished he had stayed in college and read more books, but he also knew that
it wasn’t for him. College was for rich
folk and people that know they’re too smart.
The people that all know that they’re smarter than everyone else and all
know exactly how to prove it in twenty three seconds. When he was younger he had the desire to learn more, be able to
prove it in twenty two, but that all ended during his third week at the
University of Kentucky. He had wanted a
degree in literature, but didn’t quite make it there.
Ezekiel
Smith, his American literature professor was fairly well-known and widely
respected around campus. Young Oscar
had found his lectures interesting, and yearned to discuss his favorite book,
Jack London’s The Sea Wolf, and its philosophy with him. Oscar had worshipped The Sea Wolf
ever since he read it in the tenth grade. He had been captivated by the brutal
sea captain Wolf Larsen and idolized him: his brutal, materialistic mind,
powerful body, and complete dominance over all other men, including Humphrey Van
Weyden, a naïve humanist stranded on Larsen’s boat. Van Weyden’s weak body and feeble mind
disgusted Oscar, and only caused him to worship Larsen that much more. A
student of the teachings of Nietzsche, Larsen was purely immoral and lacked any
compassion. Naturally, Oscar fell in
love with his character.
During
one class, Oscar stood up and asked Smith of his opinion on the book, to which
Smith responded that not only did he detest Jack London, but that in his
opinion The Sea Wolf was London’s poorest attempt at storytelling. Smith went on to argue that none of the
characters were at all interesting and apologized to Oscar for his teacher in
tenth grade making him read it. Oscar
shot up out of his second row seat, approached Smith and hit him with a right
to the jaw.
“Don’t
ever insult that book, old man,” he had said, breathing heavily. The class was silent as Oscar remembered
it. It was one of the proudest moments
of his life. Smith then got up, stood
to face Oscar and told him not only that he was going to report the incident to
the dean who would expel him from the university, but that he would press
charges if Oscar didn’t leave the room immediately. “Up your sagging ass, old man,” Oscar responded, before strolling
out of the room, collecting his possessions from his dormitory, and leaving the
University of Kentucky forever and with no regret.
Wolf Larsen landed Oscar where he
was now, and the hell if he was going to betray him and all he stood for. Of all the people Jenny could have chosen
she had to choose a goddam lawyer named Van Weyden, of all weak undeserving names. Van Weyden, the embodiment of everything he
spit on. The antithesis of Wolf Larsen,
his philosophical god. His lovely
daughter couldn’t be disgraced like that.
There was no way in hell his Jenny would ever bear such a repulsive name
as Van Weyden. No Dick. The lawyer prick had to go.
3. The Goddam Lawyer
Oscar
sat in the store the next day, waiting for Jenny to arrive with the
lawyer. His foot tapped impatiently on
the hardwood floor as he gazed around the room at his assorted inventory of
firearms, wondering which would be the most satisfying with which to slay the
Van Weyden prick. He had always wanted
to use the luger pistol that he stole from a captive German soldier and
cherished so much, but he valued its condition too much to waste on such
lowlife scum. He reached his muscular
hand up to the far corner of the wall behind the counter and brought down in it
a 10-guage automatic shotgun. Looking
around the store and not noticing the new nondescript Ford Taurus pulling up at
the curb, he aimlessly pointed the unloaded weapon out towards the street,
imagining the lawyer there, savoring the moment. He glanced towards the door.
“Oh my god!” Screamed a short brown-haired man wearing
starched khaki pants and a pink button-up shirt, who ran hysterically out of
the store and out of sight. Oscar gave a small laugh and put the gun down. “I bet the Van Weyden prick would run
screaming like that, too,” he thought, chuckling. He glanced casually back out at the street and noticed the Ford
for the first time, its trunk open, and his frantic daughter with her mouth
agape staring at him through the tinted windows. He hustled outside to greet her.
“Hey Cookie, you’re looking great!” he exclaimed,
wrapping his arms around her tightly. He bent to pick up her suitcase.
“Daddy what the hell is wrong with you?” Jenny cried,
prompting Oscar to silence. “I mean, I didn’t expect you to like Ross at first,
but pointing a gun at him before he even says hello? Atleast with the other
guys you started small with the insults and smart remarks before you pulled a
gun. Calm down! He needed to use the restroom so I sent him in the store
first.” Oscar glanced to his left and
saw Ross Van Weyden standing behind the Taurus, breathing heavily and glancing
at him curiously. Ross waved
tentatively and attempted to smile.
Oscar paused.
“Oh shit…well… come on in.” he said, turning to
take Jenny’s bag inside. Ross glanced
cautiously at Jenny, who smiled and nodded, following Oscar into the store and
upstairs to his flat. Oscar offered
Jenny a chair, and said, “How was the flight? You want any food? Something to
drink?”
“No
thanks, dad. How about you, Ross?”
Van
Weyden shook his head quickly and looked around the room at Oscar’s living
space. Oscar turned to him and spoke:
“I’d like to apologize, boy. First of all, I’m really sorry you had to spend all that money
and take time off work to come out here and visit me with my lovely daughter,
because there’s absolutely no way you are going to marry her…”
“Sir, that’s completely unreasonable. You don’t know me
in the slightest-”
“Don’t gimme all that legal crap, all you lawyers are all
alike. And also you know damn well you ain’t a member of the Kentucky state bar
and can’t do a lick of legal harm to me, so shut it and listen to me apologize,
you disrespectful lawyer prick. As I
was saying, I gotta apologize for having you come out here, and also for not
having that gun loaded, it was quite irresponsible of me-”
“Daddy!” interjected his daughter, “please be nice!”
“I am, Cookie, don’t you fret. I’m doing the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you. You don’t really wanna marry this guy do
you? This guy who drops his balls and runs for his life when he enters a gun
shop of all places and sees a harmless old man holding – oh no- a gun?
This guy’s a joke.”
Ross
Van Weyden sat listening to this, tugging on his thumb and staring into his
lap. “Harmless…Jesus,” he muttered to himself.
Jenny smiled at him. He looked
up at Oscar, choosing his words slowly and carefully.
“Mr. Stubbs, I really appreciate you having us over here.
It’s an honor to finally meet you. I’m glad you show such concern for your
daughter’s well-being sir, but we really love each other and we are going to
get married. Here.” He reached into his
bag, pulled out an envelope and handed it to Oscar. Oscar opened it and withdrew a rectangular piece of cardboard
stationary engraved with metallic gold letters. Pink flowers on a vine adorned the edges. The invitation stated that the wedding was
scheduled for February 14. Valentines day, and Oscar’s date of birth. With
slightly trembling hands, Oscar replaced the invitation in its envelope and set
it on the coffee table. He stared at the lawyer, who tried desperately to find
a comfortable position in his armchair.
“If you’re gonna kiss my ass, boy,” he spat, “you
might as well use a little tongue.”
He
turned to Jenny as the lawyer’s cheeks reddened. “You planned it for my birthday? without telling me? Why, girl?”
Oscar was incredulous, furiously calm.
“I thought it would make you happy… and Daddy, if I didn’t then you would have
done something to prevent it.” his daughter answered. “We have a beautiful spot
picked out in La Jolla, and Ross’s parents have offered to rent it for us.”
Ross continued: “It’s really a wonderful place to get
married. It looks out over the Pacific.
My folks are renting the venue for us, and they want to know if you can
handle the food expenses.” Oscar
scowled.
“If I’m gonna pay a goddamn cent for my daughter’s
wedding, then she’s gonna marry someone who I deem acceptable.”
“But you don’t even know me!” pleaded Van Weyden. “Give me a chance Mister Stubbs,
please. For Jenny’s sake.”
Oscar paused.
“Alright then, lawyer. I’ll get
to know you better, get a real good idea of who you are,” he
said, smiling politely and drawing out the E in real and slowly
punctuating the last three words.
“Where’d you go to school? What do you like to eat, to drink, who’s your
favorite football player, what kind of books do you like, eh? Enlighten me,
boy.”
The muscles in Ross’s face began to relax. “I got my degree in literature at Cornell
and studied law at Harvard. My favorite
food is chicken marsala, my drink of choice is Crown Royal. I don’t really follow football, but I like
that Steve Young, he’s pretty good. And
I’ll read just about anything you put in front of me. I guess you could say that I’m book-crazy.” He said,
chuckling. Oscar, his chin resting on
the palm of his hand, stared back with straight face and hard eyes.
“Let
me ask you, Mr. Van Weyden… have you ever read Mr. Jack London’s The Sea
Wolf?”
“Daddy please, there’s no point…” Jenny pleaded to no
avail.
“As a matter of fact I have, sir.” Oscar smiled. The conversation was about to get good. Ross continued: “It’s quite the coincidence that I happen to have the same last
name as Humphrey. I rather liked his
character, and he just got more interesting as the book went on, especially
after Maud Brewster enters the story.
You know, I’ve always wondered what kind of monstrous vision compelled
London to create a character like Wolf Larsen.
I hope I never meet anyone like that or I’ll be on kitchen duty with a
bruised hand the rest of my life!” He began to laugh awkwardly and stopped,
noticing Oscar giving him a raging look of icy fire.
“Boy, kitchen duty is where you belong. You shouldn’t have come out here. Right now
you best believe that you’re on the Ghost and I’m Wolf Larsen. You’re
gonna do whatever I say because I’m strong and you’re weak and I have power
over you ad infinitum. And by god,
pretty soon you’re gonna be pretty damn seasick, ad nauseum, if you will. I’m only gonna tell you this once- there are
other fish in the ocean. Walk my plank
and go find one, cause this fish ain’t for you. Now you two go out and get some
dinner and break up. I’ll see you
later, Cookie.”
The couple looked at each other and stood up. They started down the stairs to leave and Jenny shot her father a disappointed look. Oscar reached for the bourbon and sighed as Ross turned back and called “Nice to meet you Mr. Stubbs sir.”
4. Crappy Coffee
The following morning, Oscar and hank were hunched over
old laminated menus in a booth at the Rusty Nail Diner, and they didn’t like
what they saw. They had left the Hell’s
Kitchen Trading Post in search of a late breakfast, and the truth was, Oscar
would rather eat the rusty nail than anything the diner had to offer. But
seeing as there was no rusty nail in sight, he decided to settle for something
from the menu.
“So
his name is Van Weyden?” asked hank, while gazing at his menu.
“That’s
right. Van Weyden the goddam lawyer,”
Oscar replied wearily, sighing. “I
gotta chase the bastard off somehow, get him away from my Jenny.”
“You
want I should take him on a one way fishing trip, Oscar?”
“No,
she don’t want that. I can’t hurt the guy.
Maybe we could just scare the shit out of him or something, make him
flood his knickers and run away.”
A
short plump brunette waitress wearing horn-rimmed glasses approached the pair
with an order pad in her hand, a look of fatigued boredom wedged on her
face.
“Only
rule is, no killing,” Oscar muttered, “Its really tempting though, believe
me.” The waitress reached the table
hearing this, and looked Oscar curiously, pen poised to take their order.
“We ready to order? What can I get for you two?” she whined after reaching the table.
“A couple of menus from that joint across the street. I
hear they got good hash.” Oscar said,
scowling. The waitress was not
amused.
“Maybe you should go over there then. Our chef ain’t too keen on fried menus.” She
spat with contempt.
“No, I think we prefer this place,” Oscar replied,
flashing the lady a bright smile. “The service staff here is much more helpful
and considerate.”
“Kiss my ass, old man.”
“Coffee, black,” interrupted Hank. “For both of us.” The waitress eyed Oscar with annoyance as she collected their
menus and headed back to the bar to fetch the coffee pot.
“I guess I’m wrong Hank, she really wasn’t very helpful,”
muttered Oscar as she trundled off.
Hank shook his head.
“Was that really necessary Oscar? Shit, you gotta make an
enemy everywhere we go. It ain’t her
fault this place can’t cook nothin good.”
“It’s her fault that she’s got more attitude than Judge
Judy on her godforsaken period,” said Oscar, leaning forward over the table. “I
hate that lady. We should’ve just
stayed at the shop and fried some eggs.”
“
Oh shut up, Oscar. If we stayed at the
shop we couldn’t scheme on how to fix this here problem.” Hank replied. “So you can’t kill him?” People eating at a neighboring table glanced
their direction, horrified.
“Well
technically I could, but I really shouldn’t, It’d really break Jenny’s heart.
There can’t be any bloodshed.. well.. any bloodshed that she’ll know about at
least. I suppose I could kidnap the guy
and threaten to cut off his fingers or something. The son of a bitch would roast right there. He couldn’t handle me as a father-in-law
after that. He wouldn’t go anywhere near my daughter.”
“Oscar,
nobody would want to have you as a father-in-law.”
“I
hope you’re right Hank.” Oscar turned
to his left and saw the surly waitress returning with two steaming mugs of dark
brown fluid that might have resembled coffee if you hadn’t slept in three days.
“Looks like big Helga’s back,” said Oscar,
turning back to Hank, his brow wrinkled with annoyance. The waitress set the mugs on the table.
“Jesus Christ lady,” belted Oscar, “I thought I asked for
coffee! Does the chef’s dog have diarrhea or something? I haven’t seen or
smelled such foul coffee since that crummy movie in the 70’s. And don’t you even get me started on those
70’s… the movies were all trash and the music was an embarrassment. Ain’t nothin’ worse than that disco shit. All the kids looked dumber than Stalin’s
left ass-cheek when they danced to it, too.
Sticking their hands up in the air like somebody scored a goddam
touchdown. And speaking of
Stalin-” The waitress turned and left
the table, saying “Don’t ask me for a refill.” Oscar shrugged.
“She didn’t wanna listen to me, fine, she can go to hell
like the rest of the worms. And
speaking of worms, that brings us back to the topic at hand. This goddam lawyer has to go. I want him to
fear me. By the time I’m through with
him he’ll rather cut off his little lawyer raisin-balls than be part of my
family, this sorry Van Weyden prick. I
want him to not ever want to associate with my family, and most of all never to
touch my daughter. Jesus Christ Hank, I
hope to hell they haven’t had sex! God, Hank, I’ll kill the bastard if they
did, I really will... castrate him at the least. She asks for no violence, but
that’s just hands-down unreasonable under the circumstances.”
Hank cleared his throat, hesitant to speak. “Oscar, she
loves him. She’s an adult, you gotta respect that.”
“No Hank, she loves the man because he buys her
nice diamond rings and expensive seafood dinners with special fucked up
silverware and waiters you can’t understand, makes her feel special. No, he
ain’t nowhere near good enough for her,” Oscar retorted quickly. “And what can he do for her that I can’t,
eh? I’m perfectly capable of robbing a goddam jewelry store and giving her all
she could ever want. Now this guy is
far too much of an honest moral asshole to have the guts to do anything nice
for her like that.” Hank nodded in agreement.
“Ain’t that the truth Oscar. But I really don’t think that robbing a jeweler is gonna solve
any problems for you.” Oscar’s brow
suddenly became unwrinkled and his eyes lit up as the destructive fire of an
excellent idea consumed his mind.
“Wrong, Hank! Robbing a jeweler is exactly what I’m gonna
do. What we’re gonna do, all three of us.”
“Three? What, you wanna take Jenny along too? She’s never
robbed no one before, I don’t think that’d work too well. But god knows you
taught your girl how to shoot.”
“No Hank, you me and the lawyer prick, if he’s got balls
enough. And your damn right I taught my Jenny how to shoot. Girl could hit a
baseball at fifty yards I bet you. That’s my girl.”
“I’m missing something Oscar. First you want to scare him
off and now you want to do a number with him? You ain’t makin’ any goddam
sense.”
“I’m doing both.
Recruiting him for the job is gonna scare the piss out of him. He won’t want to get disbarred or thrown in
no jail, so he’s gonna decline. And then I say ‘well if you won’t do this with
us then you can’t marry my daughter’ and then he’ll think that I’m twice as
insane as he already thought I was.”
“I was just thinkin’ the same thing, Oscar.” Oscar
ignored him.
“This is exciting Hank, I haven’t pulled a lick like this
in forty years. Whoopee! Now its only a
matter of finding who to rob, and how to keep the Van Weyden prick from doing
anything during the heist if this thing ends up happening.” The waitress rushed by their table, dropping
off a bill and hearing only Oscar’s last sentence. Oscar reached into his pocket for his wallet, left a five dollar
bill on the table, and raised himself out of his seat in the booth.
“And what if he agrees?” asked Hank while he put on his
coat, “what if he goes along with it Oscar, then what’re you gonna do?”
“Well shit, then we’re rich and I’ll have no problem
affording to pay a hitman enough to make it look like an accident so my Jenny
won’t know it was me. Now c’mon, lets
go across the street and get some hash and real coffee. Maybe a bourbon, too. We got a battle plan to make.”
The
two of them strolled out of the restaurant and made their way to the
corner. While waiting to cross the
street, a group of people came up the street holding signs advising them to find
Jesus. Hank braced himself for the
inevitable as a young man approached Oscar, a smile on his face.
“Have you found Jesus today sir?” He asked
excitedly. Oscar sculpted his face into
a gleaming grin.
“Yeah I found him
hitchhiking on the side of the interstate this morning so I hammered a rusty
nail into the back of his head, stuffed him in the trunk of my chevy and dumped
him in the river. I wonder which sorry
asshole’s gonna find him next.. hope its not a cop. Or a catholic. Although I’m not sure which is worse. Have
you found a jewelry store?”
5. Cookies and Bourbon
Oscar reached up to the cupboard, pulled out a box of
oreos and set them on the table next to his bottle of Wild Turkey while Jenny
sat in his best chair and waited for her father to sit down.
“You want some milk with those cookies?” He asked,
starting towards the refrigerator. “I
get this milk from this guy I know, name of Jim. Tastes so fresh you’d think I got a cow in the refrigerator. The guy’s a moron but his cows got some top
notch udders.”
Jenny smiled and said yes as Oscar finished pouring her a
glass. He brought it to the table and handed it to her before sitting down and
pouring himself two fingers of the wild turkey.
“I really missed you, cookie,” he said, smiling. “Its
great to have you back here at the trading post. Hell, Hank’s good company but he don’t make me smile like you
do. I mean sometimes he’ll crack a good
joke or something, but you know what I mean… I really missed you.”
“I missed you too, daddy.” She picked up one of the
oreos, twisted the pieces apart and licked at the sugary cream on the inside.
“Its great to be back home. But why did you have to be so rude to Ross
yesterday? He’s such a nice person, and he’s smart, and he doesn’t have the
tiniest bit of malice in him… please just give him a chance daddy. Drop your preconceptions, spend some time
with him and get to know him… because I really love him and he really loves me
and you can’t change that.”
“I’m just looking out for you, Jenny. I just get a bad feeling about him. He ain’t right for you. You want marry this lawyer who shares the
name and disposition of Humphrey Van Weyden, the antithesis of all that I am?”
“So he’s got the same name as a despicable character in
your favorite book, but that doesn’t make him a terrible person.”
“It ain’t just my favorite book, Jenny, it’s the greatest
piece of literature ever conceived. The
Jesus freaks have their bible, I have mine.”
“By that same logic, you can live your life how you want
and so will I live mine. I’m a grown woman now, I can make my own decisions.”
“I
never told you you couldn’t do nothing before, but I know I’m right when I say
no now.” He paused. “Living in hippie
surfer country has got you thinking crazy…
You know, why don’t you stay here when that lawyer prick flies back to
California? I got some money tucked away, we could find you a nice house
somewhere in town and you could start your own business, a flower shop or
something. You’ve always liked flowers,
and you can’t really enjoy working at that record company, can you? What kind
of life is that”
“Come on dad, you know I have a great life back in San
Diego. I have a good job and Ross and I
bought a lovely condo near the beach. We’re happy together, and we really want
to get married. I know he’s the one for
me.”
“Yeah.. You know, don’t you.” Oscar took a drink and glanced down at the table. He jabbed at crumbs on the table with a
callused index finger while he spoke.
“I found the woman I thought was the one for me, but she skipped town
and left a three-month old Jenny with me. And it served me right, too. I
should’ve been more careful.. and so should you now. And I’m sure there’s a lot
of things you want to do and can do, but that’s one that you’re not gonna.” He
glanced up at his daughter. “When I was young, after the war, there were a lot
of things I wanted to do. California
was the place to be back then, too, but I wasn’t interested in all that.”
“Why not?” she said, reaching for another cookie.
“The people all looked too pretty, too rich, too happy.
It seemed all fake, you know? Then everyone started surfing, and although it
gave me a good laugh to see those idiots fall on their hippie asses, I stayed
far away from that hell-pit. Now its
overrun by liberal scum, the type that want to let people sue me for selling
illegal weapons… its just not where I belonged then or now. Back then I always had other things I wanted
to do, too.”
“Like
what?” She asked, watching Oscar roll the amber liquid around the bottom of his
glass while he contemplated the question.
“When I was your age, after I got kicked out of school I
was big on cars, I wanted to be a Mechanic.
I worked at a gas station for a while getting paid next to nothing and
decided I hated it. Then I got real
interested in becoming a writer.. you know, choosing my own hours and speaking
my mind on paper so people could read what I had to say. I fantasized about it day and night but I
never even finished a story. All these
ideas kept popping into my head and I was sure they were all brilliant, I was
gonna be a millionaire, make big bucks, you know? But when I sat down with a
pen it was like I was cursed – I could never get my thoughts onto paper. And it
was so frustrating, cookie, I couldn’t handle it.” Oscar reached for a
cookie. “After that, well, you know…
Hank and I made large withdrawls from other peoples banks for a while before
buying the building and opening the ‘trading post.”
Jenny
laughed softly and took another oreo off the plate.
“Daddy I love how you put it so sweetly.”
“Only
for you,” he said, watching her eyes twinkle in the light.
“Only
for me?” she cooed back.
“Yup,
you’re my number one girl.”
“So
would you mind doing your number one girl a favor then, daddy?” She smiled sweetly at him. He groaned and sipped his drink.
“Dammit,
Alright then, I’ll spend a little time with him… but you know that I don’t like
it.”
Jenny’s
face lit up and she sat up in her chair.
“Really?
Thanks so much daddy! I’m sure you’ll love him. Just give him a little time to grow on you… he’s a wonderful
guy.” Oscar grumbled to himself and
swallowed the rest of his bourbon.
“So,” said Jenny, swallowing some cookie, “what were some
of your would-be famous ideas?”
“Oh, they were never really any good…”
“Come on daddy, out with it.. here, drink more-” Oscar
laughed while she reached for the bottle to pour him a new glass of bourbon.
“Don’t bother, girl,” he said between giggles, “I’ll
tell. But that’s a low-down dirty trick, trying to get your old dad drunk.” She
beamed at him sweetly.
“I have my ways. Tell.”
“Well,” he began, “there was this one idea I thought was
real clever. I always wanted to write
about a character kinda like to Wolf Larsen, so I developed this pirate
character in my head. Now this pirate
was one bad son of a bitch- brutal, merciless, and smart. You might think that all pirates in books
and movies are all like that, but no. This one stood out, you know why?” Jenny
shook her head. “He only had one
ear. The other got sliced off in some
battle or other, I had a good little story cooked up at the time for how it
happened but I forgot it years ago.
Anyways, his name was Jack Grizzle, but no one ever called him that. You know what he was known by on the high
seas?” Oscar leaned in, his eyes gleaming.
Jenny smiled and shook her head.
“He was called the Fearless Earless.. you know, cause he only had one
ear… now isn’t that clever? I was real proud of that when I came up with it all
those years ago.” Jenny giggled.
“That’s real clever dad, I like it. The Fearless
Earless.. its got a real nice ring to it.” Jenny reached for her milk and took
a sip. “Jesus, that’s some good milk.”
She ate a cookie. He drank some
bourbon. She smiled.