1966
You know, there’s a whole hell of a lot more to Georgia than just Atlanta. Heard some sissy bastard call it ‘Hot-lanta’ once. Shit head. Up here, right close to the Georgia-Tennessee border, there’s some mountains, a crisp clear fall day would just take your breath away. Lot of times? In the winter? We even get us some snow around here.
Anyway, I’m sitting here, got my feet up on the desk; my boots is still mighty new and hurt my feet something bad. Cathy Sue is sitting at the front desk, studying the True Star newspaper real hard; headline says JFK ain’t dead. According to the True Star, the U.S. government’s got him in some secret laboratory high up in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado.
“Kitten,” I said. “You got know that’s just plain horse shit.”
“Nuh uh,” Cathy Sue said. “Says it right here. That weren’t him in Dallas. That was some Russian spy trying infiltrate the U.S. Government but the CIA fount out ’bout it and put a stop to it real quick like.”
Kitten’s what I call Cathy Sue Kattes. Her last name’s pronounced ‘cats’ but she’s only four foot nothing; girl can give my cock a good licking and never have bend over do it. So like I told her, she weren’t tall enough be a cat. She’s still a kitten.
Buddy’s out on patrol. That’s more horse shit; he’s over at Happy Café, drinking their nasty ass coffee, eating their day old doughnuts and trying get Norma go with him for a little ride. That’s fine; North Georgia Savings &Loan’s right across the street. The Phillips 66 filling station’s next door to the café. And the Winn-Dixie grocery store’s right across the street from this trailer. That pretty much covers this whole town other than Miss Kandi’s and that’s just right down the street a bit.
“If that was true, Walter Cronkite would be telling us all ’bout it,” Earl Stuebbens called out.
“Says he’s been sworn to secrecy,” Cathy Sue yelled back.
“Well, wish Kennedy’d get his carcass back in the White House; that jackass LBJ’s dragging this country right to Hell with him,” Earl said.
“Hey, Earl, you ’bout sober nuff drive yourself on home?” I asked.
“Yes sir,” Earl said. “How drunk’d I get this time?”
“Oh, not too bad,” I said, getting to my feet.
“I owe anybody?” Earl asked as I unlocked the cell door.
“Nope. Figure Kitten got to you afore you got too stupid,” I said.
“Where you put my keys?” Earl asked as he shuffled out of the cell.
“Secret place you ain’t never going find them,” Cathy Sue said, turning the page on her True Star rag.
“Aw, come on, Cathy Sue,” Earl whined. “You know Paula’s ’bout have that baby. I needs my truck.”
“Then maybe ought not be drinking so much, huh?” Cathy Sue opined. “Keys in a real secret place; bet you never figure it out in a million years neither.”
“Hey, Earl?” I said, putting my feet up on the desk again.
“Yeah?” Earl asked, tearing his eyes from Cathy Sue’s cute little titties.
She’s wearing her khaki uniform shirt and got the first two buttons undone. The fan is going full blast, but really? All its doing is pushing hot air around as it goes back and forth.
“Think of looking in your pockets?” I suggested.
“Cathy Sue, you a mean, mean little girl,” Earl said, pulling his keys out of his pocket.
“I aint no little girl,” Cathy Sue said, blue eyes all squished up and bottom lip sticking out a mile.
“And ain’t is not a word,” Earl said. “Now, where’d I leave my truck this time?”
“Right out front Miss Kandi’s,” Cathy Sue said.
Miss Kandi’s was in the part they called ‘Nigger Town’ because it was where all the coloreds lived. Only time we cops went on down there was when some white folk got a bit out of hand. Most time, when some colored boy got out of hand, they just handled it on their own. Only time we got involved with colored stuff was when one of them up and killed another colored.
“Aw hell, what I was doing there?” Earl said, shuffling to the door.
“Same thing Paula done said when I asked her she want come get you,” Cathy Sue yelled as Earl opened the door of the trailer.
“Aw, you didn’t, huh?” Earl whined.
“And close that door. Letting all the flies in,” I yelled.
When he shut the door, Cathy Sue unbuttoned another two buttons, showing off her cute little bra. She used a manila file folder to fan herself; had be about 90 degrees outside and weren’t much cooler inside.
“You didn’t really call Paula, huh?” I asked, watching her cute little titties bounce as she fanned herself.
“Naw, but ought to,” Cathy Sue said. “Know, Happy Café’s got them that window unit? Why we can’t get us one them air conditionings?”
I shrugged my shoulders. Our governor, Carl Sanders seemed to think that a window unit weren’t needed; said it was a luxury. Uniforms, our two patrol cars, couple or three.357s and three twice barreled 12 gauge shotguns was what we could afford and that was what we got.
“And quit looking at my boobies,” Cathy Sue said, holding down the page of the True Star rag when the fan breeze whirred past her desk.
“Kitten, you know ya’ll got cutest little titties I ever seen,” I said.
“They ain’t little,” she said. “They a c cup.”
“Bra says twenty four B,” I said.
“It were marked wrong,” Cathy Sue lied.
“Kitten, you lying and you know it,” I laughed.
“Keep laughing, ya’ll ain’t never going see them again,” Cathy Sue said, mean look on her face.
“Like your hair like that,” I said, getting to my feet.
Cathy Sue’s got her long blonde hair back in a ponytail. Norma, over at the Happy Café got her hair up in this beehive kind of thing. Paula, Earl’s wife, and my ex-wife went and spunt nine bucks get her hair done up in one them bouffant. Nine bucks. That’s part the reason she’s my ex-wife. Other part is she couldn’t seem stay out of Earl’s bed, or Jonesy’s bed, or Lester’s bed.
Earl thought he was only one getting into Paula’s drawers, so when I tossed her fat can out my trailer, he stepped up and took her on as his own. Maybe he ever sobered up, he’d come to figure out, that baby she’s carting around might not be his.
But Cathy Sue’s hair is just natural. It hangs down to her waist and when it’s hot like this, she keeps it off her neck by doing it up in a ponytail. Makes her look a lot younger than nineteen, I tell you that.
“Hey!” she yelled out when I gave her ponytail a little yank as I walked by.
I’d waited ’til we bounced Earl on out of here; I’d started fixing out dinner while he was in, I’d have make him dinner too. Let him go on home and eat whatever Paula could wrestle up.
In our kitchen, I poured myself some coffee. It’s been sitting in our percolator probably about four, maybe five hours now, so it’s real thick. Shit, put enough milk in it, it’ll be just about drinkable. But since it’s the last of that pot, I go ahead and fix up another pot.
“Hey, Kitten, want a sandwich?” I yelled out.
“Yeah,” Cathy Sue called back.
I made us two sandwiches using up the last of my world famous meatloaf. My secret? I mix in two big old tablespoons of yellow mustard and about a teaspoon of brown sugar. And I do not put catsup on it neither. Kathy Dawn, Cathy Sue’s momma does that and it’s just nasty, all burnt up tasting when she brings it on out.
“Buddy called in; he’s going on dinner break,” Cathy Sue informed me when I brung our two sandwiches out.
I snorted; Buddy’s been on dinner break for the last three hours. His big old gut’s been bellied up to the counter at Happy Café since he went out on patrol.
Cathy Sue gave out a big old squeal when I bit her on the back of her tiny neck. She slapped at me, but I was too quick for her. I grabbed her hand and gave her a kiss on her little cheek.
“Quit!” she giggled, rubbing her face. “Need shave that ugly mug of yours. And, God, how you can stand drink coffee hot like it is?”
Cathy Sue went into the kitchen and grabbed herself a Fresca out the ice box. She used drink Orange Nehi, but one day went to put on her dungarees and couldn’t button them. So now she drinks that nasty diet stuff. I tell you, I was in a desert? And some camel humper was giving Fresca away for free and told me the next drink was a hundred miles further and they was charging twenty bucks for it? I’d crawl the hundred miles, twenty bucks in hand.
Another reason Cathy Sue quit drinking Orange Nehi; we had us one them Atlanta jerks come in, ordered up a big steak at the Happy Café and then said he’d left his wallet on his dresser at home. Jonesy dragged him in, screaming and yelling he was going pay for his dinner, he just needed go on home and get his wallet.
Anyway, this Atlanta jerk saw Cathy Sue swilling down an Orange Nehi and told her it was the right drink for her, since she wasn’t about knee high to him. Got it over the wire, after we run the tags on his car he’d done this at a few diners up and down Georgia and South Carolina. He’d come in, order their biggest ticket item, then wouldn’t have the money to pay up.
But then Jonesy and Buddy also started calling Cathy Sue ‘Knee High’ and she don’t like it one bit. So, she pulls the tab off that can of nasty Fresca and chomps her way through that meatloaf sandwich and a bag of Dickey’s Potato Chips.
We call Jonesy that ’cause his name’s Linus Eldridge Jones. And according to Jonesy, Linus and Eldridge are nigger names. Few of the colored boys down at Miss Kandi’s tell me its fine with them if no one thinks that Linus Eldridge Jones is a nigger; they don’t want associate with him neither.
Jonesy is the owner and cook of Happy Café. He’s a decent cook, a pretty good businessman, but is an asshole to anyone comes around him. I walk into Happy Café and everyone calls out ‘Hey Sheriff’ and it’s all fine and good. Jonesy calls out ‘hey Sheriff’ and somehow makes it sound like he’s taunting me.
Buddy called in and told Cathy Sue he was back on duty. Course, Buddy tuck all of the hour for his dinner break. I wonder if Norma tuck her dinner break at about the same time. Course, Jonesy only gives her thirty minutes, so she’d have to run out, give Buddy a little nookie, then hustle her big backside in, grab herself a bite, then be back on the floor, pouring coffee and taking orders.
Now Cathy Sue’s in the back of the True Star, you know, where they have all them ads for art school, diet and exercise programs, diet pills, that kind of junk. She’d sent in five dollars once to one them companies promised give her bigger boobs in just a few weeks. You figured right; what come in was a box of tissue paper for her to stuff her bra.
“Kitten, you had big old boobs, you’d be falling on your face whole time,” I told her. “Good God Almighty, what you want more boobs for? You perfect enough just like our good Lord done made you.”
That was the first time we kissed. I mean, I’d tuck her to Happy Café a couple times. Even tuck her to the next county over to a picture show; we seen that ‘Mary Poppins’ one. Let me tell you, that was a good one.
But telling her she got nice boobs, just right for her got me a kiss curled my toes right up. Taking her deer hunting with me got me a kiss and a good handful of them titties. Skinning and dressing up the nice buck she brung down got me a kiss, got them nice titties out where I could see them, and got me a blow job just ’bout took the hair off my balls. When I put up the stuffed and mounted head of that eight point buck in her momma’s trailer, Cathy Sue wiggled out them dungarees, and after I nibbled on her sweet little honey pot, she put me on my back and squatted over me.
Good God, that was the tightest and hottest fuck I ever had. Paula liked to fuck; part of the reason she was fucking everybody minute my back was turned. Cathy Sue liked to fuck too, but her fucking was all about making me happy, not making herself happy.
And, yeah, I knew all about how Paula was like before I even married her. We all went school together in Lincoln High School. Since I was the oldest one in our class ’cause I got held back one year, I was first one got his own car. Minute I pulled up in that ’47 Desoto Suburban, Paula plopped her can in the seat next to me and put her hand directly on my cock. That was the way it was, until Jonesy got himself a LaSalle and Paula was out of mine and into his. And Jonesy just gives me that smirk made me want kick his car into next Tuesday.
And when Earl Steubbens come up in his own Desoto Deluxe and gave Jonesy a big old smirk, Jonesy did kick Earl’s can. When I became a police officer, one of the irst tickets I ever give out was to Jonesy; he knew he was in a school zone, he knew the speed limit was twenty. But he figured since we’d gone to school together, I’d let him fly by.
“You just doing this ’cause I tuck your girl,” Jonesy yelled at me.
“Nope, Linus,” I smiled. “I’m doing this ’cause you was speeding, in a school zone. And you ain’t never tuck no one from no one else. I told Paula I was done with her lousy blow jobs. That’s when she up and went off with ya’ll.”
“I learnt her how suck my dick just fine,” he smirked at me.
“Agreed,” I said, handing him his ticket. “Said she needed one lot smaller than mine practice on. So, thank you for that. Have a pleasant afternoon, Linus, and don’t be speeding no more, hear?”
And first time I brung Earl in for being too drunk even stand up? His momma said I was just doing it ’cause Earl tuck Paula away from me. I smiled and told her I wasn’t punishing Earl for taking no one. Letting him keep Paula was punishment enough. I brung him in ’cause he were falling down drunk.
Nope, it weren’t no surprise to me, catching Paula with her skirt up, some other guy’s cock in her hairy box. Right after we all graduated from Lincoln, Paula wanted go to the State Fair up in Nashville, Tennessee. The Georgia State Fair weren’t nowhere near us. Jonesy had moved on and taken up with Sally Miller who was just a skinny little thing; hell, her glasses weighed more than she did. And Earl had smashed up his Deluxe, drunk as a skunk.
So Paula gave me a blow job, and I always wondered, why it’s called a blow job? There’s no blowing to it. Well, other than me blowing my load. Hell, maybe that’s it. Makes ’bout as much sense as any other explanation, I guess.
And next thing I know, there’s nine of us crammed in my car, plus me and Paula and we’re heading up to Nashville. I pay her way in and we got on the Ferris wheel and man! That thing went up ’bout a hundred feet off the ground and you could see for miles. We went on the Tunnel of Love ride and made out hot and heavy; Paula’s got some pretty big titties. And then all of a sudden, I can’t find her nowhere. I mean, one minute, she’s right next to me and I’m trying win her some stupid stuffed dog and guy asks me if I want try again and I turn to ask Paula just how bad she wants this stupid thing and she ain’t there.
I looked everywhere and couldn’t find hide nor hair of Paula anywhere. I got me a lemonade, man it was some hot out there. And when I turned to give the guy the glass back, right over his shoulder, I seen Earl and Paula coming out the Tunnel of Love. That was bad enough, but I seen her trying real quick put her titty back into her bra and Earl’s zipping his trousers up.
I got the others together and told them, they wanted a ride home, we was leaving now. That made all them pretty mad but weren’t none of them mad as me.
I weren’t a total jerk. When we got home, I called Mr. Whitaker and let him know his daughter was still at the State Fair and he could go to Nashville he wanted get her. Man, he was some put out. And so was Paula when she and Earl was looking all over find me or any of our friends and all of a sudden, there’s her daddy squawking ’bout he was missing roller derby on the television.
“Why you done that? Leave me there?” Paula wanted to know.
“Why you was in the Tunnel of Love sucking Earl’s dick?” I asked.
“I what? I, Billy, I weren’t doing no such thing,” Paula tried convince me.
“Seen ya’ll coming out that Tunnel of Love; you putting your titties back in your bra, him zipping up his trousers,” I stated. “Got any more them lies wanting tell me? No? Okay, ‘bye then.”
Jonesy up and joined the United States Army, Lester followed right behind him. Michael Patton went to Purdue University; he was a real smart guy. Wanted study them computers. We called him ‘Space Man’ ’cause computers? That stuff was science fiction all the way. Earl somehow got into Georgia Tech; never could figure that one out.
Me? Uncle Jimmy got me on as a patrolman. He was my momma’s older brother, but when we was in uniform, I weren’t to call him ‘Uncle Jimmy’ at all. In uniform, he was just Sheriff Brown and nothing else.
That ticket I gave Jonesy was right before he went off to Basic Training. Bringing Earl on home to his momma’s happened right after he got bounced out of Georgia Tech. And before Jonesy or Lester done their four years, I was Sheriff. Uncle Jimmy, Sheriff Brown got called down to Miss Kandi’s; a few colored boys had tuck offence to some white boys wanting them some nigger poontang and one them colored boys pulled a gun.
Seeing a white man in uniform gave one them white boys a bit of courage and he started running off at the mouth. The colored boy with the gun squeezed off two shots, just intending put a scare into the dumb ass white boy. First bullet struck the metal leg of the stool the white boy was perched on and ricocheted, hitting Sheriff Brown in the left thigh. Bullet cut the large artery in the leg and smashed up Sheriff Brown’s thigh bone. Uncle Jimmy died right there, on the dirt floor of Miss Kandi’s jive shack.
The second bullet? Ned ‘Noddy’ Hollister will never look for nigger poontang or white poontang or any other kind poontang ever again. Hell, I ain’t even sure how he pisses with that stump he calls a dick.
The colored boy got hung the day after his trial concluded. I mean, shit, he was guilty. Even the three serving girls and Miss Kandi testified to that.
But I got appointed Sheriff; Bernard Enchin actually had him a felony so couldn’t be appointed Sheriff and Clay Young was almost sixty years old and Judge Frankel said he was too old for the job. Lenny Broussard quit day after I got my badge and we ain’t found his replacement yet by that time.
Buddy Thomas was my first hire. Bernard decided he’d move on to South Carolina; his momma still lives here and he pokes his ugly head in here whenever he visits her. Timothy Hill was my second hire. There weren’t much left in the budget, but we needed us someone could handle the phone if we was all out, so that’s when I up and hired on Cathy Sue Kattes.
Right at five on the dot, Buddy waltzed into the trailer. I mean, the military don’t keep time good as Buddy does. Boy ain’t never a minute early to sign himself in and ain’t never a minute late to sign himself out. And I’m willing bet his car ain’t used up more gas than what it tuck get him from here to his seat at the counter of Happy Café. I’m also willing bet Buddy ain’t tuck time put even one gallon gas into the car, even with Lester’s Phillips 66 right next door to Happy Café.
Timothy weren’t but ’bout a minute behind Buddy. He signed himself in, checked he had his baton and whistle and 357 in his holster.
“Jenny Lou called by asking ’bout you,” Cathy Sue said as she turned last page on that True Star rag.
“Not funny, Knee High,” Timothy spat at her.
Couple months back, Timothy had pulled over a mighty cute blonde; Jenny Lou was speeding on Henderson Road. She offered him a blow job for not getting a ticket. Timothy agreed and she started give him a first class blow job.
I still wonder why it’s called a blow job. I had read some book about a big whale once for Mrs. Newsome’s English class. Damn, now that Mrs. Newsome was some gorgeous, you hear? Anyway, in the book, they said, ‘thar she blows’ and I ’bout lost my mind; I just couldn’t stop giggling over that ‘Thar she blows!’ saying.
Timothy reached out and gave this blonde a squeeze on one her boobs and finds they ain’t nothing but foam rubber. He’s bouncing his ass on that car’s seat, this girl was really going to town sucking and slurping and stroking Timothy’s dick. Timothy reached down to get himself some stink finger and finds a dick bigger than his own in this blonde’s drawers.
Turns out Jenny Lou was actually Louis Jennings. Timothy and Louis had gone to Lincoln High together; Timothy sitting right in front of Louis for most of the time. Timothy arrested Louis, drug him in and locked him in the cell. Stupid thing to do; he couldn’t very well bring no charges against Louis; remember? He’d agreed to the blow job for the ticket. And Louis told me and Cathy Sue what had happened.
So now, Cathy Sue loves giving Timothy a bunch of shit about Jenny Lou. Truthfully? Jenny Lou is mighty cute. Louis Jennings? Boy looks like a goofball, face all puffy and stuff. And he’s way too short.
“Want go on to the picture show?” I asked Cathy Sue as we both signed ourselfs out.
“Yeah, they got air conditioning,” Cathy Sue agreed, buttoning up her uniform shirt. “Pick me up ’bout twenty minutes, okay?”
Cathy Sue got out her uniform and put on a skirt and sweater. ‘Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Wolf?’ is a great picture. Ought be an Oscar winner, I tell you. And, yeah, that air conditioning does feel good. And afterward, we went on to the Krystal for a couple them burgers and chocolate malted milkshakes. That air conditioning and the malted was why Cathy Sue put on that sweater. Said she’d been freezing if she hadn’t.
On the way back, we pulled off Henderson and got into the bed of my pickup. Cathy Sue Just hiked up her skirt; girl ain’t bothered putting on no drawers.
“Ain’t got time for none that; mosquitoes ’bout kill me out here,” Cathy sue said when I went to lap up her honey pot.
With a spit on the head of my pole, Cathy Sue just squatted on over me and slid me right up in her. Look, when I’d hired her on, it was ’cause we needed her there. I ain’t never said to myself, ‘I’m going hire first cute girl comes in so I can have myself some sweet little honey to fuck.’
I don’t rightly know how it happened, that I wound up married to Paula Whitaker. But there was her and there was me and Good Lord, she did know how to suck dick. And my Suburban did get to rocking.
Oh, yeah, now I remember. There was her, and there was me, and we did that shit of pulling out and squirting into a handkerchief and Paula come up and told me somehow that hadn’t worked. So I done the right thing and put on a suit and tie and she wore this light blue dress cost me seventeen dollars. Ugliest seventeen dollar dress I ever seen too.
Said she miscarried. I done the right thing, said the right words and held Paula while she cried. I wanted ask her, ‘now that you ain’t pregnant, you going lose some them pounds you done packed on?’ But I kept my mouth shut and patted her head and shoulders and back some more.
Cathy Sue bounced up and down, pretty little eyes squeezed tight. I was getting close and I could tell by her gasping and squeaking she was getting real close too. When I couldn’t hold back no more, I quit squeezing her little titties and gave her love button a quick little rub. That made her eyes and mouth open real big and then she screamed.
After we got done with the shaking and screaming, she got off and kept her skirt hiked up and jumped out the back. I could hear her grunting and moaning and knew she was relieving herself, right there, on the side of the road. Anyone coming along could have seen her, hunkered down by the truck, relieving herself. I used my handkerchief wipe my pole clean then found myself a tree to water.
“That was, oh man, that was just…” Cathy Sue giggled as we got back on Henderson heading home.
“Yeah, it was,” I agreed. “Hey, Kitten, I love you, you know that?”
“Well, I love you too,” she said, putting her head up against me.
“Hey, think maybe next time, we might try, you know, doing it the other way?” I asked.
Love me or not, Cathy Sue weren’t one bit happy I asked her that. She hauled off and punched me, even though I’m driving, then slid all the way over. We got to her Momma’s, she don’t even wait for me put the truck in park before she’s out the truck running to the steps of the trailer.
I made it to my trailer just when Roland Allen’s signing himself in. Lot of folk around here don’t cotton one bit to me having us a colored man in uniform, and the fact he’s carrying a gun just gives them fits. But Miss Kandi’s boy is a mighty fine police officer, and truthfully? I’d rather have him behind me than Buddy, or Timothy.
And Roland takes him all kind of shit down at Miss Kandi’s too. Some of them colored boys call him and uppity nigger and some the older coloreds call him an ‘Uncle Tom’ for working for a white sheriff. But Miss Kandi makes sure her boy’s uniforms are nice and starched up and them shoes, you could comb your hair looking into the shine on them shoes.
“Women, Roland, women,” I said when I come in. “They ain’t worth the trouble, you hear?”
“Uh huh, but they mighty pretty,” Roland agreed.
And right when Timothy come out the kitchen, carrying his cup of coffee, Roland said, “Even that Jenny Lou.”
“Aw, fuck you, nigger,” Timothy snarled.
“Officer Hill? Sign out and go on home,” I ordered. “And afore you put that badge on again? Better have you an apology, hand written, hear?”
I told Roland let me catch a quick shower and I’d sign myself in on duty with him. Timothy signed himself out, but kept his mouth running whole time ’bout it weren’t right.
After my shower, I put my boots on again. I tell you, I’ll be mighty glad when they get broke in; they are pinching hell out of my fat toes.
This come in couple minutes ago,” Roland said, handing me a note when I come into the kitchen to grab myself a cup of coffee.
A statewide bulletin had been put out for one Samuel Brodt Lott III, AKA Trey Lott, wanted for armed robbery and murder. He liked holding up liquor stores and killing the people that worked there or was unlucky enough be there when he come in.
“Well, since this here’s a dry county, don’t think we got worry about Trey Lott hitting us, huh?” I said, still studying the bulletin.
Samuel Brodt Lott III was the only son and third child of Sammy Junior and Virginia Evans, now Virginia Lott. At only twenty years old, the boy already had him a pretty good rap sheet included burglary and breaking and entering and even rape. Now, he’d graduated on up to robbery and murder and likes using an old Colt.45 when holding up them liquor stores. Said the car he was driving was a white Cadillac Eldorado, a 1963 model.
“Well make sure Buddy and Cathy Sue, and Timothy ever come back in here? Make sure they keep their eyeballs on any white Cadillac Eldorado they see coming through,” I said. “Good Lord, this coffee is shit; you made this?”
“No sir,” Roland smirked at me. “Us niggers? We know how make us some coffee, hear?”
I just shook my head at him and tuck the car out on patrol. I put the windows down and let the breeze cool me down as I drove. As I drove, I couldn’t help but think of my failed marriage and my failing relationship with Cathy Sue, Kitten. Even after she miscarried, or claimed she’d miscarried, I still weren’t real convinced Paula had ever been with child, that woman couldn’t keep the trailer clean. She couldn’t be bothered iron up my uniforms. Her cooking weren’t nothing brag ’bout neither. Seemed only thing she done good was fuck and suck and spend money on shit we ain’t needed.
‘Search For Tomorrow’ was blaring when I locked Jimmy Finnegan up for being stupid. That weren’t the charge; he was wanted in the county over for jimmying open couple coin boxes at a laundry-mat and running off, pockets weighed down and jingling. Still had him almost twenty bucks just ’bout pull his pants off when I grabbed him.
The jail was in the front half of the trailer and me and Paula lived in the back half. But that wasn’t no reason have that television up that loud. After telling Jimmy be a good boy and sit, I marched back there to tell Paula turn it down.
And caught her, laying back on my couch, with them ugly pillows and that afghan thing her momma knitted for us a wedding present, some guy huffing and puffing and bouncing on her. A well-aimed kick stopped his bouncing and started him screaming. And started Paula’s crying and lying.
Like I told you, Earl stepped up and tuck Paula off my hands. Judge hadn’t even finished saying we was divorced before Earl turned Paula Smith into Paula Steubbens. I know that corn squeezings Miss Kandi sells can rot out your liver. Didn’t know corn squeezings could also rot out your brain too.
When I come back in from patrol, I sent Roland off do a little patrolling. Then I flipped open my latest copy of Swank. Don’t know how much Swank pays them girls, but it’s got be a whole bunch. They are some of the prettiest girls I ever seen, and to think they smile like that, looking all naughty like that.
Cathy Sue is mighty pretty too and got her a sweet little backside, and a honey pot got just a little bit of blonde hair on it. Her smile just lights up that sweet face and well, damn it, I really love her. I think I was in love with her even afore she put her mouth on my dick. Wish she weren’t so riled up whenever I ask maybe we could fuck the other way. Hell, it ain’t nothing unnatural wanting do it the other way.
Figure Toni Hill gave Timothy a pretty good earful. He had his handwritten apology for Roland afore Buddy waddled in for his shift. I tell you, Roland Allen is more of a man than me or Buddy or Timothy. He nodded his head once and offered Timothy his hand. Ain’t no way I’d been that willing shake any man’s hand after he called me a nigger.
I handed Buddy the bulletin ’bout Trey Lott before he drove off to Happy Café. When Cathy Sue came in, still looking mighty pissed, I had her look the bulletin over. Then I walked down to my bedroom and pulled off my boots. Man, my feet hurt mighty bad, I tell you that.
I couldn’t been sleeping five minutes when Cathy Sue was shaking me hard. But when she told me Jonesy had called in, saying there was a white Cadillac with a couple bullet holes out front of Lester’s Phillips 66, engine smoking bad, I was wide awake.
“Get Buddy on the radio?” I asked, feeling around for my boots.
“No sir,” Cathy Sue said. “Remember? He had get that tooth pulled at eleven today.”
“How nice of him even show up,” I said.
Of course Buddy couldn’t wait ’til Thursday, his day off go have his tooth pulled. And I’m willing bet you, he used the patrol car go to Dr. Delue’s office.
If this was Trey Lott at the Phillips 66, any sign of a police car would have him coming out, guns blazing. I pulled on my good dress shirt and tucked my.32 snub nose into my khakis, right at my back. Cathy Sue grabbed the twice barreled 12 gauge and made sure there were two shells loaded. I couldn’t help but smile; gun was ’bout as long as she was.
We got into my pickup and drove straight to the gas station. I pulled up on the other side of the pump from the Cadillac. Looked like Trey run into some liquor store owner weren’t willing let Trey run off free and clear. I counted four holes on the driver’s side had come from a mighty big gun.
Cathy Sue got out and closed the breech on her shotgun. I honked the horn and waited for Lester or Eugene, Lester’s assistant to come out and pump the gas. I watched in my rear view mirror and Cathy Sue made it to the back of the diner. When I seen that, I gave another honk and yelled out for service.
“Dang it, Lester, I know you getting old,” I yelled, getting out of my truck. “But can’t tell me you can’t hear me honking.”
I stepped into the service bay, still complaining. And that’s when I saw Trey Lott, holding a gun to poor Eugene’s head. Lester was trying his hardest get Mrs. Kelvin’s Chevrolet fixed up; figure Trey was planning on driving out in Mrs. Kelvin’s 1959 Bel Air.
“Need just take a seat there,” Trey said to me.
“Aw hey, now!” I said, putting my hands up and walking backward real slow like. “Look, I don’t want no trouble, okay?”
“No, just take a seat,” Trey ordered.
“No,” I said, pulling my snub nose out. “Put the gun down and kick it on over to me, hear?”
“I don’t think so,” Trey smiled, pulling Eugene in front of him.
“Okay, that stops my bullet,” I agreed. “But don’t stop my partner from getting you, now do it?”
“You don’t have no partner,” Trey smiled real big. “I been watching you whole time.”
I think he ’bout pissed himself when he felt Cathy Sue’s shotgun right at his back. She weren’t real gentle neither when she jammed it into his back, right above his belt line. Eugene and her was cousins, grew up right next door to each other.
“Let him go, put the gun down real slow, then kick it on over to me,” I ordered again. “Samuel Lott, you’re under arrest.”
Cathy Sue gave him another nudge with her shotgun. Trey decided he’d better listen on up and let go of Eugene. Boy started crying right there; Cathy Sue had give him a good push with her foot get Eugene out the way so I could cuff our prisoner.
“Oh good grief,” Trey spat when he got his first look at Cathy Sue. “Hey, Dopey, where’s Snow White?”
“Careful, boy, or I’ll let Kitten there be the one drive you on over to the courthouse,” I said.
“I can’t believe; a midget? You got a God damned midget cop?” Trey kept up with his mouth.
He did shut up when Cathy Sue jammed the barrels of that gun into his mouth. Cut up his upper lip and loosened one of his teeth; she weren’t least bit gentle with that gun.
Once we had him behind bars, we called it in to the next county over, where they had the courthouse. Told them where they could pick up the Cadillac; they said they’d send out a tow truck. They wanted bring Trey Lott, Samuel Brodt Lott III too; they wanted be the ones tell Carl Sanders they’d been the ones apprehend the wanted man. They weren’t too happy when I told them we’d already filled out the paperwork and called it in to the State office.
Course, minute he was behind bars, Trey Lott started in with his loud mouth again. Called Cathy Sue midget and dwarf and shrimp; even asked her if her pussy smelled like shrimp.
“Hey, Cathy Sue? Think I need go on patrol,” I said loudly. “Now, that boy tries escaping? Fill him full of buckshot, hear?”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Trey said. “I got rights.”
“And as an officer of the court? Cathy Sue’s got the right to defend herself against a dangerous criminal, ‘specially one trying escape our jail,” I smiled.
“It do look like he’s thinking ’bout trying escape,” Cathy Sue said, shotgun in hand.
When Buddy finally managed drag himself in, I made him go drive Mr. Lott to the courthouse. Whenever I have go to the dentist? I get terrible bad headaches from that laughing gas they give me. So, I knew Buddy’s head had be hurting real bad. And, just as I’d figured, he’d drove the patrol car to Dr. Delue’s office; Buddy wanted use other car.
“Why, Buddy? Don’t tell me you ’bout out of gas there,” I said. “Well, guess you better figure on putting in some gas now.”
After Mr. Lott and Buddy left, Cathy Sue all of a sudden starts crying. Guess it just kind of hit her; we’d had us a killer holding a gun on her cousin Eugene and it could have gone real bad. I hugged her real tight and kissed her.
“Need go shave that ugly mug of yours,” she said, wiping where my whiskers had scratched her pretty face.
“Hey, you the one waking me up from my beauty sleep there,” I said.
“And you need you plenty beauty sleep,” she agreed.
“Hey, I love you, you know that?” I said.
“I love you too,” she agreed.
“You think, maybe you and me, we might ought get married?” I asked.
“You ain’t joking?” she asked, mouth hanging open.
“Serious as they get,” I said.
We had the State send in a couple officers; all us was over at Redemption Baptist Church on Henderson for the wedding. I know Buddy and Timothy and Bernard all got pretty bent out of shape when I had Roland as my best man. Hell, even Reverend Horten weren’t too happy about having a colored man in his church, but as many times I caught him over at Miss Kandi’s, drunk off that corn squeezings and getting him some colored pussy? Reverend Horten knew he just needed keep his mouth shut. ‘Specially with his wife not but fifteen feet away, playing that organ.
Jonesy kept his mouth shut too. No matter what Governor Sanders and Governor-elect Maddox were saying, LBJ had signed the Civil Rights Act and weren’t no way Jonesy could refuse have Roland in Happy Café. After Cathy Sue and I cut the cake and had our wedding supper, we went on up to Chattanooga for our honeymoon. And, yeah, Buddy and Timothy were pretty bent out of shape when I left Roland in as acting Sheriff. But, I figure they’ll get over their little snit when Eugene and Lester put in the new window unit in the squad room.
I’d bought up two them units; one for the front office, and the other one for our bedroom. That’s my wedding present for my beautiful bride. The one for the bedroom. The one for the squad room, that’s for all us.
In our hotel room, I helped Cathy Sue get out of her dress. She sure did make a beautiful wife, standing there naked except them stockings and garter belt and high heeled shoes. I didn’t even know they made high heeled shoes that small.
“Hey, now that we married, think maybe we might try do it, you know, fuck the other way?” I suggested as I got out of my suit.
“Damn it, why you got be like that?” she screamed at me, even throwing one them tiny shoes at me.
“Honey, what?” I asked. “You don’t want babies?”
“Well, yeah, but, still,” she screamed, throwing the other shoe at my head. “Why you can’t just be happy I let you…”
“Well, if we want us some babies, sooner or later you going have let me fuck that pussy of yours,” I argued.
2021
I know I’m sawing on the branch I’m sitting on, submitting anything for the Loving Wives category. Good Lord, some of the comments left by readers are just downright cruel. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained.