Note: this is a work of fiction, although the characters and events described therein bear remarkable resemblences to people and events in real life; I don’t have the imagination to make this stuff up out of thin air.
This is dedicated to dutch508, for a couple of what should seem obvious reasons.
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BainsBane spends the night with franksolich. “Oh, don’t worry about it,†the property caretaker said, as we were driving towards town.
He was driving his pick-up truck; we were pulling the trailer with the boat and other goods abandoned by the Packer clan when they took off so suddenly after hippyhubby Wild Bill’s “baptism†a month ago. I’d first packed up the stuff shortly thereafter, and left it down by the river, in case Wild Bill decided to come back for it, but he never did, and so I decided to give it all to the wife of the former property caretaker, to sell in one of her frequent garage sales.
The former property caretaker, the old--but much cherished by me--bug-eyed coot, was injured in an automobile accident four years ago, and never recovered enough to return to his job, being replaced by the much-younger current one, a guy in his late 30s. I hadn’t seen the former caretaker for a while, and I wasn’t going to see him today either, as he’s in physical therapy down in Lincoln right now.
His wife is the town’s busiest snoop and gossip, but one can’t help loving her a lot despite that.
“You forget there’s something different about you,†the caretaker continued; “you have a reputation, and it’s solid, it’s sterling. No matter how many times you get caught with your hand in the cookie jar, or in some other embarrassing situation such as this most-recent one, you slip out of it as quickly and easily as a pig sliding on ice.
“I heard about you years before I even knew you, and that’s the way it’s always been.
“I wouldn’t worry about it; people might talk a little, but then something new happens with you, and they forget all about the older one.â€
“Well, I hope that’s still the case,†I replied; “after all that happened on Saturday with the naked razor-wielding primitives, I’d sure like to have at least a week of peace and quiet.â€
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We reached our destination, and as we got out from the truck, the former caretaker’s wife came out to greet us.
“Here it is, ma’am,†I said, “the whole thing. Get whatever you can for it; get rid of it.â€
“Well, it’s for you,†she replied; “I plan to get the best prices possible.â€
“No, don’t worry about that,†I came back; “get whatever, and give it to the church. Your church or my church, I don’t care. It’d serve hippyhubby right, given his irrational and unwarranted hatred of God.
“Now, I dunno about the boat motor; it worked the last time it was used. The boat itself is a licensed object, the problem being that the numbers on its side, according to the department of motor vehicles down in Oklahoma, expired in 1974, and were never renewed.
“The trailer too’s licensed, but that’s a fake plate, the number already assigned to an authentic plate of another trailer somewhere else.
“The trailer’s a home-made thing, but it’s not a boat trailer. I have no idea what it was built for; maybe to carry four 55-gallon metal drums full of something. It’s a solid piece, and strong too; it could probably hold sixty tons, if sixty tons were allowed on highways. Whoever built it, made it so it’d last forever, and never break down.
“The next time I see him, I’ll ask the sheriff if it’s legal to sell the boat and trailer as is, or if I have to do something about getting a good title on them.â€
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The caretaker, the former caretaker’s wife, and I sifted through the boxes inside the boat; cookware, camp gear, odds and ends of hardware such as chain and rope, fishing equipment, Judy grasswire’s little red wagon, and two complete canvas-floored tents.
Among a whole lot of other stuff.
“You know,†I said, “probably most of this was shoplifted, but from where?â€
“Or bought with funny money,†the caretaker suggested.
“It’d be useless to try to trace the origins of it all,†I said, “especially given that much of it was probably stolen years and years ago. I think it all could be sold without qualms.â€
“Now, what are these?†the former caretaker’s wife asked, holding aloft a couple of pairs of…..something.
“Oh,†I said, “hippywife Mrs. Alfred Packer’s cotton underdrawers; notice the labels advertise a ‘56-inch’ waistline.â€
“Good Lord,†the former caretaker’s wife said; “they must get fat down in Oklahoma; there’s nobody that fat around here.â€
“Well, somebody might buy them as curiosities,†I suggested.
“For Halloween or something, maybe,†the caretaker added.
“Ew, those are evil-looking machetes on the bottom of the boat,†the former caretaker’s wife commented, pointing.
“Those aren’t machetes,†I said, “and they’re actually worth a great deal more than machetes, having finer and heavier-duty steel for their blades.
“Those are cadaver carvers that Wild Bill purchased at an auction of surplus property of the county coroner’s office.â€
“Now, why would anybody from around here want cadaver carvers?†she asked.
“They probably wouldn’t,†I suggested, “but if someone needs to butcher a bison, well, they’re the thing to use.â€
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On the way back here, just before approaching the turn-off, we both spied a figure standing on the outside of an automobile parked on the side of the highway, and the caretaker slowed down.
“Whoa, do you see what I see?†the caretaker asked.
“We’re too far away,†I reminded him, “so don’t jump to conclusions.
“From here, judging by the size of that pair, it could just as well be Atman--that’s the worst case of bilateral hypertrophy that I’ve ever seen.â€
to be continued…..sometime next week
*****ANNOUNCEMENT FROM franksolich*****
My apologies for the short, jerky chapters, but I'm in-and-out of here, waiting for the imminent denouement of a Great Tragedy in real life. All I can do is sit and wait.
BainsBane and her sister shrieking she-women swarmettes don't need to worry about it; it affects franksolich only distantly, peripherally.
My bitch is that I predicted this would happen.....thirty years ago, and nobody paid any attention.
Thirty years, twenty years, ten years, five years, a year ago, six months ago.....
Nobody paid any heed.
There's a lesson in this for primitives; ignore the advice and counsel of franksolich at your own peril.