The Toast Point Bad Fiction Contest
proudly presents:
Flo's reveries were interrupted when Kix himself walked in. "Speak of the devil," she said aloud, not realizing that she hadn't been speaking of him, only thinking of him, but then no one said "Think of the devil," for it purely wouldn't make sense.
"Now, Flo," said Kix, "we don't for sure know Slam is goin' to hell, even though the evidence seems to indicate it."
"Whutcha mean, Pa?" spoke up Trixie, who stopped shovelling fried pork rinds into her mouth long enough to notice her father had come in.
"Well, Trix," said Kix, "I don't know how to break this to you gently so I'll jes' flat out say it - yore Uncle Slam done got hisself killed and - as next of kin - we gotta plan the funeral."
"Le's have it on a weekday so I kin miss school," Trixie volunteered. "Iff'n we had it Friday mornin',I'd have time to get my hair done Friday afternoon for the Prom on Saturday."
Flo pulled out her well-thumbed appointment book. "Nope," she said, "Friday ain't no good. I gotta cook all day for to cater the Prom. Friday and Saturday both is out. Sunday, I'll be plumb too tired. How about sometime next week?"
"Naw," said Kix, "spring gobbler season starts then. "I guess we'll have to hold off for a while. You got enough space in your freezer to keep ol' Slam a mite longer."
"Anythang for you, Kix, honey," said Flo, who had secretly harbored a crush for him all these years. She was a sucker for his uniform, that was a fact.
Just as Kix was about to make his menu decision for his brother's funeral, a call came over the radio that a massive traffic jam had ensued when a rocking chair containing an old woman had slid from the bed of a pick-up onto the center line of the Widow's Peak Turnpike. Traffic, wandering livestock, and a tour bus bound for the state capital were entangled in hopeless gridlock. Kix ran for the squad car and left town with his tires squealing and his siren blaring. He was closely followed by over half the townspeople who, like Kix, had never seen a traffic jam close up and wanted in on the thrill of it. Besides, they figured, Kix couldn't arrest them for speeding if he was in front.
"Pawline, Pawleeeene", screamed the woman, "what has happened to Grandmother? I just can't fathom how her chair slid out of that truck! I saw Ergu tighten the ropes holdin it this morning when we left Kentucky, and the only other person in the truck was 'cestula, and she's not bright enough to know how to cut them ropes. Ain't that right 'cestula?"
"Aweehhheenck", "Aweehhheenck" said the imbecilic girl. Kix swore he saw her drop something shiny down between the bed of the truck and the cab but he just couldn't quite be sure.
"Somebody must a put her up to it or just made it look like she did it. If we don't find out who, we're just gonna have to punish the entire family".
All of these words were screamed into the portable phone, although the conversation was obviously taking place with a black haired lady who barely stifling a malevolent grin, said "That would take all night Auntie. Besides the first thing we gotta do is find Grandmother, before she does God knows what to one of the local boys. You know how much trouble she caused us back in Baton Rouge".
The middle aged woman who was now beginning to regain her composure, patted her coifed curls gently and said. "I'm sure I haven't the foggiest idea what you could be refferrin to Pauline, but you are right we must find dear ol' Granny"
Kix' brain was still workin hard trying to take all this in, when his body gave a start, and he let out with a blood curdling yelp. He swung round to see the grinning face of a toothless white haired old woman, who as best he could figure out had just goosed him with her cane.
"Cute little fanny ya got there Sonny", said the old hag now positively leering at Kix. "bet I could show ya some things ya didn't even know people could do".
Kix' brain had never been adept at changing gears either quickly or smoothly. Now it was positively stuck in neutral. Finally his vocal chords decided to act on their own. "What the Hell" they exclaimed loudly, trying their best to give his brain time to get unstuck.
"Granny, come over here now" the black haired lady said sternly. "you know people don't always appreciate your attentions".
"But he has such a" said the hag.
"Granny! , Ergu!" said Pauline.
Suddenly a large Arabic sort of male like (but not quite) person had appeared, and uttering a couple of grunts, picked up the Granny, set her back in the chair, then picked up said chair, and put it back in the truck, retied it, and got back behind the wheel of the lead truck.
Kix felt some stirring in his brain, although what he was mainly feeling was a pain in his ass. Just as his brain began to overcome this he suddenly realized that the middle aged woman was speaking to him.
"Why sir thank you so much for finding Granny, she does ah wander so". Proffering a perfumed hand she said "Crystabel Cardwell hee-uh. Now if you don't mind we've had such a long journey, with such an unsettlin finish, I think we'll just be getting down to the Cardwell property, but do come to tea after we get settled".
With that Crystabel began to walk back to the lead truck.
Kix' brain suddenly recovered. "Hey, wait a minute, you can't go yet, that there woman just assaulted me" (the literal nature of his choice in words escaped Kix).
Crystabel turned, patted her curls and said "Ah haven't the foggiest idea what your talkin about. Why shame on you for saying such a thing about a poor ol' Granny". Ah am not sure-uh that you can come to tea after all.
"Whatya mean", Kix said, That woman assaulted me and I have the evidence right here behind ...".
Suddenly Kix thought better of it. What sort of humiliation might he have to endure from his buddies? Suppose the case went to trial. Suppose he was asked to present his evidence. He had also heard in cases like this that medical evidence might be needed, and what gettin that might entail made him shudder. Besides he needed to get back to burying Slam.
"Well okay, I guess the poor ol' dear didn't mean no harm. How the hell old is she anyway?"
Crystabel froze, shuddered, patted her curls, and said. "I can see we didn't return one moment too soon! This town has lost its civility since our family left before the whar-uh. WE are a genteel old southern family, and no one of us would ever publicly refer to something as sensitive to a mature lady's age. You SURH may definitely NOT come to tea until you learn some manners!
With that she jumped back into the lead truck, and the profession moved on down the hill to the old Cardwell mansion, leaving the townsfolk with their mouths open. Poor Kix had never had such a day as this so he just stood there for forty minutes alternately rubbing his forehead and his behind, wondering how he was gonna tactfully ask Flo for the right kind of ointment.
Just before Kix recovered his wits enough to get on with things, he noticed an old 1950's Ford convertible putting up the pike toward town. He thought about wondering who that was, but his battered brain said no, and he carefully got back into his car.
Upon arriving at her humble hovel, Sofie snapped on her CB radio in hopes of finding suitable transmissions to set the mood for what she was increasingly hopeful might be an amorous encounter with the cultured stranger. Sometimes, the citizenry of Widow’s Peak—not wanting to miss any breaking news—left not only their CB’s on, but also an adjacent radio. Occasionally, if one got lucky, one might hear some real romantic stuff like Mantovanni or Tony Bennett. As Sofie scanned the dial, she heard no such romantic background music, but only a strange screech coming from what must be Kix Dunkin’s police radio, and she nearly turned off her CB to escape the offensive and decidely non-romantic cacaphony.
“Wait!" yelled Bertie, ever the linguistic scholar. “I’ve heard that sound before!" He quickly consulted his notebook that he always carried in his left brest pocket and thumbed through it—the notebook, not the pocket. “Yes! Here it is! That particular sound has only been documented in a remote Louisiana parish. And to think, I’ve heard it here! I must go to the source of that sound! Sofie, can you help me find it?"
While it wasn’t the kind of date Sofie had envisioned (for she was hoping to have the Blue Plate Special at Flo’s Diner before getting down to the serious business of the courtship process), but it was better than nothing, so she agreed. After making sure Petunia’s pen was double-locked, and with her portable CB in hand, she led Bertie back down the wild and wending—or was it winding? Well, whatever— path, taking a couple of short-cuts through the brush to get to the highway whenever the CB signal seemed to get stronger. Finally, with leaves and twigs clinging to them, they crawled down an embankment and arrived in the midst of what was the largest gathering of folks and the first traffic jam Sofie Mae had ever seen.
"Lawsy, me!" she exclaimed. "I ain’t never seen this many folks since the revenooers raided my daddy’s still back when I was knee-high to a banty rooster.!"