A Story without a Moral

To the reader: I thought that I would do a very short story for Halloween. It doesn't really go anywhere; it's just a colorful depiction of a typical honkytonk. One of thousands scattered along lonely rural roads in America and many places around the world. So pop-a top and read on PN

Welcome to Samuel's; just "Sam's" to the locals. A little dive of a honkytonk located on State Highway 21 out in farm country. Farm land laboriously hacked from miles and miles of dense forest. Sam's is reflective of its clientele; the locals; farmers, ranchers, working hands. Like the land and the locals, Sam's doesn't change much. It's been here a while, too. You can actually see a rut worn into the wooden floor planking,,, if you kick enough of the sawdust and peanut shells out of the way. There is a battered and stained pool table and an old shuffleboard with most of the lane markings worn off. Sam's does have the latest in jukeboxes, though. Finally, had to get a new one several years ago, couldn't get the 45s for the old one, anymore. Still, there are a hell of a lot more Hank Williams, Ernest Tubbs and Patsy Cline songs on it than Stevie Wonder's. They come in, sweaty from the fields to find their favorite stool, toss off the shoulder straps of their bib overalls, take a deep breath of the haze of stale smoke and stale beer, and they're home. Only every once in a while do you ever get someone new stopping in; a traveler, just passing through, on their way to anywhere, but here. Maybe they've decided they needed a cold one to tide them over on their trip. There's no stopping for the food,,, unless you like the pickled eggs bobbing around in that gallon pickle jar on the bar. It's just another Friday night, here at Sam's. It's getting towards dusk and the farmers are start'n to trickle in. Jeff is sitting sideways, leaned back against the wall at the end of the bar, as usual on a Friday evening; slowly sipping three fingers of Jack' from a water glass and watching the place slowly come to life. There are a few already here. Of course he knows them all; has most of his life. Thankfully, no one has fired up the 'damned' jukebox. There is still peace in the valley.

Directly, the door is flung open and a dirty, disheveled man carrying a rucksack, walks in and moves to the bar in an agitated and animated way. He asks the bartender for a "Bud" and sort of falls back onto a barstool. Heads turn all around the room to look at the man. A grimace from most of the tavern's patrons is telling of the fact that the newcomer needs a bath. Goddess! He smells worse that a field covered in pig manure, on a hot, muggy day. Jeff, already sitting facing down the length of the bar, can't help watching the man. His hands never stop moving, shaking. At length, Jeff speaks up: "Mister, you ok?" The man's head jerks around to look at Jeff, as if startled and he replies: "Yeah! Sort of." Jeff returns: "Well, what's..." "SOUTH~OF~THE~BORDER"!!!~~ Patsy drowns out any possibility of communication. Jeff stands and steps over to the man and yelling above the jukebox: "Let's step outside so we can talk!" Jeff is thinking: 'Do everybody a favor and get him out of here. I just gotta remember to stay up wind of him.' The man holds up his bottle of beer knowing that you aren't supposed to take your drink outside. Jeff holds up his glass of liquor yells back: "Nobody will care around here!" Jeff heads for the door, the stranger slides off his barstool and follows.

Outside the swinging door, the air has started to cool from the Texas heat. To the west, the horizon still shows a bit of orange from the setting sun. The first stars have begun to twinkle, but the land is dark, as the moon has yet to rise. The barkeep has just turned on the old faded sign out by the road. The fluorescent fixtures under the eaves of the bar, hum and flicker to life. Those that work are lamped with bug-light yellow tubes, covered in dust, cobwebs and dead bugs. Down the side of the building sits two old picnic tables, also grimy and covered in dust. Jeff swings out of the door and heads for them, skipping the nearest, because the light fixture above it is flickering on and off. Stopping at the second table, Jeff pulls a greasy shop rag from is back pocket and dusts off the end of the table and then both benches, nearest the building, before finally sliding onto the far seat. The grungy man slides in across form Jeff. Jeff slowly takes a sip of liquor and sets his glass down and he begins to speak...

"Mister, no offense, but I noticed that you seemed to be a bit rattled and shaky in there. Are you ok?"

"None taken. And you pretty much hit the nail on the head. I guess, I am rattled."

"What happened?"

"I was hiking along the road out there; been summer'n up in Austin and now I'm headed for N'Orl'ns . Trying to hitch a ride, but, nobody will stop to pick me up. Thems that would stop, would roll the window down, then roll it back up and peel out spray'n gravel. Ya see I- I, haven't had a bath in about a month n' a half. The last one was at a house that was up for sale. Nobody 'round. I snunk in the fenced back yard, peeled off and had me a good garden hose bath."

"Heh, heh... Yeah, I guess I noticed. By the way, `round back of this bar, there's a shed and on the backside of that shed there is a butcher's shower. I'm sure that you'd be welcome to use it. George, he owns this place, would probably consider it a public service. "

"Yeah, thanks... Anyways, I was hiking along the road, bout a mile back that way." Gesturing in a general direction... "Ya know where you go through that wooded area. Where the woods kinda close in on the road. It must be bout two miles like that."

"Yeah, I know where you're talking about."

Well, I was book'n it along the side of the road through there, and I kept hearing rustling off in the bushes. Din't think too much bout it. So, I just kept up my pace; kept mov'n. When I'd gone most of a mile, I was still hear'n rustling out there. I stopped and peered 'round. Din't see noth'n. Wasn't bout to go into the woods to look. So, I headed on off down the road, but I picked up my pace, a bit. Directly, I heard some deadwood snap. A-and it weren't no twig, neither! Sounded like it was as big 'round as your wrist! I stopped to look, again, a-and somth'n growled at me. Somth'n big! Still din't see it, but I near shit myself!"

'Gawd! How would you even be able to tell!' "Probably a bear,,, or something."

"Bear?! They ain't no damned bears in this end of Texas! And that weren't no bear!"

"Well, I don't know, then. You made it here, safe and sound. Still, if I were you I'd get inside and stay inside, tonight."

"I don't sppose you could put me up for the night, could you."

"Hun-huh, ain't happening! I got a mate. Last time I brought someone home with me, unannounced, she got all exercised! He was a fieldhand that worked for me. When quitting time came, his old car wouldn't start. So, I took him home with me. Figured that he could take the couch for the night and get his car running the next day. Well, Jenny pitched a fit! I think that he thought she was going to eat him, or something, cause he shot out the back door and I never seen him again. That old car is still rusting in the field where he left it."

"You could curl up in the shed back there. At least, you'd be safe from those bears, or whatever."

"Ya, might do that."

"Listen, I just want to give you a friendly warning. The locals are going to start rolling in here pretty shortly. Now, mostly, they're good guys, but it's Friday evening and there's a full moon tonight. When these old boys get in here and start getting thoroughly liquored up,,, well, they can sort of start to get all hairy and howling at the moon. You being a stranger and,,, well, need'n a bath might 'set them off'. That might not be a healthy thing to do. If I were you, I'd go get me a bath and go hole up for the night. No offense, but you don't want to tangle with them."

"Ya, thanks. I recon that might be good advice."

"Well, best of luck, my friend. Stay safe, stay alive. I best get back to my favorite stool, afore someone else plants their ass on it."

Jeff gets up from the table and heads back inside. Sitting back on his stool and, again, leaning back against the wall, he sets his drink on the bar. The bar keep, who had been hard at work, endlessly polishing the bar top, notices Jeff and walks over to that end of the bar...

"Hey, Jeff! What happened to the stranger?"

"Well, George, I offered him your shower, out back and suggested that he roll his bindle out and sack out in your shed. Suggested that he might want to stay in there until daylight and avoid the locals."

Good thinkin' Jeff! Lord, I's about to go get the Lysol. That feller was mighty ripe!

Hah! Yeah, he was. One of those 'hobo' types. Said he hadn't had a bath in about a month n' a half! Said he'd been "summering" up in Austin. Those stupid liberals! Turned that town into hobo heaven! Build another fukn' bike trail, it'll be alright!

Anyway, Jeff, thanks for getting him out of here. It wasn't going to be too long till one of these boys tossed him out. No need to turn Friday night on its head.

Yeah, no problem. Funny, he said that something was stalking him from the woods when he was coming down the road. Said what ever it was followed him for a long time. Finally growled at him before he took off running.

Shit! probably one of the locals having some fun with him. I hope we ain't got someone that's got off his leash.

Just as George finishes speaking, half a dozen men come running in the front door,, slamming it behind themselves. One reaches back and throws the deadbolt another man grabs an empty chair from a nearby table and shoves it under the doorknob. Another exclaims: "GAWD DAMN! Did you see that?"

Just then a loud racket can be heard out back of the bar. George runs to the back door, flinging it open. A sight of total destruction greets him. The storage shed is demolished and scattered about. Water sprays into the air from a broken pipe.

George slams the door shut and throws both deadbolts, then grabs a two by four standing in the corner and tosses it into the brackets to bar the door. He then walks back to the bar and reaches underneath. He brings out a ten gage, sawed off, double barrel coach gun. Stepping over to the cash register, he thumbs the release on the gun and breaks it open. Tipping the gun back, he allows both shells in the gun to drop out on to the floor. Hitting a key on the cash register, the cash drawer slides open. He reaches in and removes four large red shotgun shells. Thumbing two of them into the gun, he drops the other two into his pants pocket. Now taking hold of the barrels, he snaps the shotgun closed. He lays the gun on the bar and looks up. The patrons are all standing around watching him, pale faced. "looks like we got us another fuckn' werewolf!"

Looking over at Jeff... "Good thing you got him out of here, Jeff."

Jeff tips his glass in a salute and then throws it back to down the remainder of his whisky.

Their conversation is interrupted when someone on the other side of the room yells out... "Yahoo! The moon's rising above the hills! It's a big, full, yeller, Texas moon, too! Woohooo!"

"So there you have it; Sam's tavern on any average Friday night. If you're down this way, be sure to stop in. Mind you, I'd be on my way before moon rise. Like the man said; the locals can get a little hairy and howling at the moon, after a spell."

Someone drops a quarter in the jukebox...

"DON'T~GO~'ROUND~TONIGHT!"

"IT'S~BOUND~TO~TAKE~YOUR~LIFE!"

"THERE'S~A~BAD~MOON~ON~THE~RISE!"

PN