Chapter 1

Enrique walked out of the bathroom looking sad and forlorn.

Maria was sitting on the couch. "What's wrong, Enrique?"

"I miss my outhouse."

"So do I, Enrique, so do I."

It's little moments like this that make life unique.

They must return to Mexico...to the little outhouse on the hill.

**********

Meanwhile, back in Dime Box, Texas, DB (Deep Belly) was sitting down for his first pre-lunch meal of the day (FPL was usually around 10:01 AM. Anything between 12:01 and 10:00 AM used the term breakfast in its code. Technically, DB had no business using the word breakfast in any of his meal time descriptions since there was never any fasting to break. But anyway...).

"Do you think there's a market for my rolling outhouse?" DB would have asked if he spoke in Standard English (we're translating for the DB non-understanding audience).

Chompy looked DB square in the stomach and replied, "Yep."

**********

TT note:

Now, that�s one sad story! I think you could write a book on that one topic, and wind up with a classic modern tragedy.

Chapter 2

Maria had all but forgotten that special odor that was the Mexican Outhouse. She was only two after all when her family crossed the Rio Grande searching for a better life and all that meant, including the mistaken notion that outhouses were passe.

"Enrique, do you remember the special odor that is the Mexican Outhouse?"

"Si, Maria, I was six after all when my family crossed the Rio Grande in search of a better life and all that meant, including the mistaken notion that outhouses were passe."

"You must very happy now Enrique, because you are returning to find your old outhouse."

"Perhaps, Maria, perhaps." Enrique was not as naive as Maria and knew that finding one's outhouse was not always the panacea that it promised to be.

**********

...Then Chompy asked DB, �what�s the world�s biggest mystery?�

DB said, �what does fud do when it�s out of sight, down there in the dark where you can�t see it? Nobody knows but the belly, so you better keep your belly on your side. In your front, and on your side at the same dadgum time. That�s the biggest mystery of �em all.�

Chapter 3

Maria was not as naive as Enrique thought she was but probably more naive than she thought she was.

"Enrique, you seem so distant."

"Look on the horizon, Maria. Is that not our little outhouse?"

"It's just a mirage, Enrique, but for our immediate purposes, it will do just as well. Stop the car when we get there."

Out of the corner of his eye. Enrique glanced briefly at Maria and thought to himself, "What am I getting myself into?".

**********

Feeling an overpowering sense of duality, Chompy then asked DB, �OK, what�s the second biggest mystery in the world?�

DB said nothing for minutes, waiting for his belly to send permission to pause his fuding session. Then he said, �the next biggest mystery in the whole dadgum world is how in the dadgum world fud gets so dadgum messed up there in the belly, makin� all that stinky stuff, and still it�s good for you if you�re eatin� right. It�s one of those things you can�t think about �cause it�s such a big ol� dadgum mystery. You have to just eat on it, and that�s all there is to it.�

Chapter 4

There are moments in our lives when we look back and wonder, did I make the right decision or did I make the wrong decision or did I make a decision that was neither right nor wrong but somewhere in the middle. Such a moment had arrived for Enrique. Should he stop at the mirage of an outhouse on the hill or should he keep on going until he found something a little more tangible. Maria wanted him to stop but what did she know. She was a young girl, only 19, and she had not seen nor smelled the inside of an outhouse in over seventeen years. Now she wanted to stop at one that wasn't real. An imaginary outhouse, an outhouse with neither walls nor doors nor seats nor holes nor newspaper nor corn cobs. What should he do? He had but a mile to make up his mind.

**********

Chompy began to sense that DB might be obsessed with fud. If not obsessed, certainly abnormally interested. But, Chompy thought, what�s normal anyway? A camper on your pick-up truck, or an exposed bed? Keeping hunting dogs all year long or catching strays during hunting season? Some questions can�t be answered. Some can�t be asked because you forgot the first part and didn�t take notes. Or you can�t read your notes. Or you spilled beer on them. Or they got soggy in your back pocket while you were fishing. So, forgetting what he was going to ask DB, Chompy asked, �you gonna eat all them ribs?�

DB said nothing as he finished and stuck the last four ribs in his mouth.

Chapter 5

The last thing (well maybe not the last thing but close to it) Enrique expected to see pointing at him was a snub-nosed Saturday Night 38 Special but there it was and it was pointing at him, no doubt about it, but the biggest surprise (well maybe not the biggest but close to it) was the hand holding the gun, and the fact that the hand was trembling was not reassuring but less assuring and the person holding the gun was none other than the girl he had always called Sweet Maria.

"Why, Maria, why?"

"You damn fool. You know why. I can read your mind. You're thinking about not stopping at the little outhouse on the hill."

"But it's only a mirage!"

"Maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that I need to take a dump."

*********

Still suffering from a severe hangover that had moved him to examine the implications of human mortality, Chompy asked DB, �You ever wonder where you goin� when you die?�

DB replied, �Why, I�m goin� to the Belly Yard, over by the pigpens on Mr. Bodine�s place. I already got me a double-wide marked off four down from Mama and right across from Aunt Bonnie �cause she made them real good pecan pies.�

Agitated, Chompy said, �that�s where you gonna be buried. I mean where�s your soul goin�?�

DB said, �it better stay close to the belly if it�s gonna get fed.�

Exasperated, Chompy said, �don�t you want to go to Heaven?�

DB replied, �oh sure, for vacation Bible school. Bellys don�t go there full-time, though. Shoot, we�re farmers and fud people. We don�t do that harp bidness and we�re too dadgum heavy for flyin� around with them wings.�

Chompy said, �well, how in the world are you dadgum Bellys gonna get out of goin� to Heaven or Hell full-time if everybody else had got to go to one or the other, with no dadgum round trips?�

DB said, �see, there�s gonna be a rupture of the earth, bustin� everybody up out of the dadgum ground, and then you gonna have to go back to work. But the fud�ll be even better, and you go off to Heaven for holidays and vacation Bible school. If you want to stay there a while, you�ll have to learn up on a mess of Bible verses. If you ain�t no good at that verse bidness, you stay in the non-verse places. Me, I�m not a verse man.�

Chompy decided that further questions would be pointless as he exclaimed, �dadgum, you got the last biscuit again.�

Chapter 6

In every twilight there is a small bit of humanity that has been relegated to the trash bins of history. For every ray of sunshine that touched the earth, another ray of sunshine passed right through it.

"Maria, I love you!"

"You don't love me, Enrique. If you did you wouldn't have peed in your pants when you saw this gun pointing at you. If you loved me you would have waited and peed in the little outhouse on hill."

"But, Maria..."

"No, Enrique, you are wrong. The outhouse is there, whether you believe it or not. It has always been there. And it will always be there no matter what you think."

"Yes, Maria, I'm beginning to see."

"What, Enrique, you're beginning to pee? I thought you were through."

************

Same here! Darn - gunplay over an outhouse that may not be an outhouse. Whole new twist on TTS. Got to hear how this turns out!

Chapter 7

Moment like this are moments like this. What else could they be? Moments that weren't like this?

"Maria, give me some water."

"Why Enrique, are you thirsty?

"No, I want to be able to pee again...in that little outhouse on the hill."

"Enrique."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

*********

With no fud left on the table, Chompy's thoughts returned to the human condition. He asked, "where did you get these ideas about Heaven?"

DB said, "grandma Belly told me about it. She got a mess of messages when she fell of the barn on her head and went to sleepin' for two dadgum weeks. When she woke up she was talkin' in Spanish about all these places she's been and what she'd learned. Billy Juan Gomez's grandma told 'em to us in Texan. One a the things she learned is about the rupture, the big dadgum rupture that's comin' when it's time to stop dyin' and time to start eatin' again. She talked in Spanish off and on the rest of her life, and she was just 19 when she took the big fall. When I get some fudin' done, I'll tell you 'bout the magic outhouses she found while her soul was runnin' around when she was a sleepin' for so dadgum long."

Chapter 8

Enrique peed long, and peed straight, and peed true. It was the purest pee he had ever known. Then it began to rain and it rained long and straight and true. It was an honest rain. A rain from heaven.

Out back of the little outhouse on the hill that wasn't but yet was (the outhouse that is) Maria was taking target practice with the snub-nosed Saturday Night 38 Special. The dust was flying (or it would have been flying if it hadn't been raining) as the bullets hit the dirt where rabbits that were but weren't were hopping between the cacti.

Enrique walked over to where Maria was standing and asked, "What you're doing?"

Maria replied by staring at Enrique. It was a long stare, a hard stare, a straight and true stare.

The rain stopped.

**********

After joining DB in another extensive round of fuding, Chompy asked, "well, what about that magic outhouse?"

DB said, "it's parked out back. I'm a little low on Shiner in the keg right now, but I'll have her filled up before I go out on the state road again."

Chompy said, "not the dadgum rolling outhouse! Shoot I know about that. What about them dadgum magic outhouses your grandma told you about?"

DB said, "oh, them. Well, what grandma said is that while she was out wanderin' around, gettin' these messages here and there, she started seein' outhouses down to the south and she was sure glad to find 'em. But not all of them turned out to be real dadgum outhouses. Some of 'em was hoaxes, dadgum phony dadgum outhouses. But when she'd find her a read dadgum outhouse, she said it was the finest outhouse she'd ever been in. They was fud in there, the seats was so comfortable you could go to sleep on 'em and they wasn't no stink at all. Said it broke her heart when she was told she had to keep movin' on the message road. That there's where I got the idea for the rollin' outhouse, so it's sort of dadgum magic too."

Chapter 9

Sometimes there's nothing left to say, yet you say it anyway, and at the risk of retribution, which makes the act of speech a feat of courage, comparable to scaling Mount Everest, which is in itself due to modern mountain climbing equipment, has become less daunting.

"We must leave, Maria."

"No, Enrique, we cannot now leave or we may miss it."

"Miss what?"

Maria paused, but only for a second (or was it longer - a few seconds perhaps?). Well, at least it didn't seem like a very long pause, but no matter.

Maria then spoke, in hushed but reverent tones..."The Ghost of Bellysario."

Chapter 10

Where are you when you're nowhere? Who are you when you are nothing? What does life mean when it has no meaning?

"The Ghost of Bellysario?"

Maria heard Enrique's question but it was like an echo in a canyon, a canyon gorged out a million years ago by ancient rivers out of control.

"It is a legend known among all my people, the San Manseans. Out of the mist would come Bellysario. Big and fat and hungry. He would be riding in his golden chariot."

Enrique pondered Maria's words. Then he spoke. "But what's that got to do with this place?"

Maria replied, simply yet elegantly with a touch of pathos (not the metaphysical kind), "We're standing on Bellysario's grandmother's grave."

**********

Chompy began to think. He didn't like to think for long because it often made his head hurt. But at times, there seemed to be no choice. Chompy thought to himself that DB was not an ordinary person. Odd maybe. But that's not it. Crazy? Probably not. Deluded? Maybe. But very different. And his grandmother? Very, very, different if DB was to be believed. Chompy had his doubts, but he had to find the truth.

"So, was your grandma one of those holy rollers?"

DB said, "oh, she had her ways."

Chompy decided to boldly get right to the point - "did she ever handle snakes?"

DB replied, "oh, no, grandma didn't take to snakes at all, and folks got to know they better not be bringin' any to church when she was around. Mrs. Ledbetter come in one Sunday, showin' off with this dadgum snake, and grandma grabbed that thing off her neck and cut the head off right there on the amen pew. Then she diced up in perfect half-inch pieces. Purtiest and quickest meat cuttin' I've ever seen. She had me run it home and brown it. Then she threw it in the pot and it made some of the best chili I'd ever had. Had a holy taste, dadgum it. Folks still talk 'bout grandma's snake dicin' and that nice

chili."

Chapter 11

When the sun sinks in the desert, after an unusual rain, and the air begins to cool, because scientifically speaking, the earth in the desert doesn't know how to hold the heat, and it dissipates quickly, much like that first shot of caffeine in the morning, or if that's not a decent metaphor, then like that first taste of hot chocolate after one horse sleighing through a cold December day in Minnesota or Michigan if you prefer.

"His grandmother's grave? You mean here where the little outhouse on the hill that is but isn't?" Enrique looked quite perplexed.

"Yes, but Bellysario is not a phantom but is quite real. He requires calories, many of them."

"But all we have are a half dozen slim jims and assorted candies."

"Then we must go back to the Winn Dixie."

"Why?"

"To buy Moon Pies and RC Cola."

Chapter 12

Have you been through a desert on a horse with no name? How about a car with no name?

Maria did not wait for Enrique to respond but took the keys and ran toward the car with no name.

Enrique cried, "Wait, Maria! Don't go alone!"

"I must, Enrique. You must stay here in case El Bellysario shows up in his golden chariot."

"But what will I do? I have no moon pies and RC Cola."

"Tell him that I have gone to the grocery store, to buy much moon pies and plenty RC cola. Beg him for mercy and if his stomach starts to growl, run like hell."

Enrique started to respond but Maria had already cranked up the car and started down the desert road. Would he ever see her again?

In the distance he heard the ominous sound of thunder.

Chapter 13

Chunky Adams had been looking for gold for seventy-two years. He had been in the Alaskan Gold Rush, the California Gold Rush and the Jude Wanniski Gold Rush. Now he was somewhere in Northern Mexico still searching for those golden nuggets.

He was riding on his old burro Chimpy when he thought he had some dust in his eyes. He had to blink several times. He couldn't believe his eyes. What was he seeing? An outhouse on wheels? In the desert? It couldn't be!

But it was and it was rolling along at about twenty-five miles per hours. Where is was going? And why?

Chunky kicked Chimpy in the ass and hustled him toward the rolling outhouse. Chunky figured Chimpy would intersect with the rolling outhouse in less than two hours.

What Chunky didn't know was that some others had the same plans.

**********

Chompy said, "good night, she chopped up a dadgum snake right there in church?"

DB said, "oh yes, grandma was one fine cook and dadgum good with a knife."

Chompy said, "is she who taught you about fuding?"

DB said, "that was mainly Mama. Grandma taught me about her ways and a whole lot about Texaco."

Chompy said "Texaco?" DB said, "that's where she where she went off wanderin' during those two weeks a sleep. And then she kept goin' back there many a time and took the grandkids with her sometimes."

Chapter 14

Chunky and Chimpy made it to the mysterious rolling outhouse in about five minutes of determined ass trotting. It wasn't as easy as it seemed because the outhouse wasn't going in a straight direction. For every hundred feet or so forward it would go back fifty feet or more. Chunky thought to himself, "I'm thinking to myself. What's going on here?"

When Chunky finally made it to the rolling outhouse he noticed the symbol on the outside walls. Something shaped like both a moon and a pie. Since he had spent the last seventy-two years in the desert looking for gold, he had no idea what he was looking at. Chunky hollered, "Is anybody in there?"

There are times in everyone's life that stand out, that can't be forgotten, unless senility has set in, and even though Chunky had been flirting with senility for a long time, it hadn't made a home in his brain yet, only a time-share condo.

"Yea, I'm in here. Who are you?"

"Chunky Adams, prospector."

"Chunky? You don't mean my long lost brother, do you? This here is Chompy, your equally long lost brother?" "Chompy, no it can't be!"

Chapter 14

The desert is a place where lost souls stay lost. At least most of the time anyway.

What're you doing in that rolling outhouse, Chompy?" Chunky asked just before spitting out a large wad of tobacco juice.

"I borrowed it from DB."

Chunky of course looked puzzled, "Who the hell is DB?"

"DB stands for Deep Belly. He's one of the Bellys from Dime Box, Texas."

"Are the Bellys different from us?"

"Yes, they have big bellies."

Let's pause for a moment and give proper due to this touching reunion.

**********

The Great Dr. Peg Noon Fogg once wrote the following inspirational words about what it means to be an American and an Outhouser:

I have always believed that this land was placed here between the two great oceans by some divine plan. It was placed here to be found by a special kind of people--people who had a special love for freedom, buying low, selling high, relieving themselves as they chose and progressive toilet tissue technology. We spoke a multitude of tongues, but as a general rule, only the evildoers among us (and they know who they are) sought to close the door on noble outhouses. Non-evildoers, however, have taken care of our nation�s outhouses.

If wind, water or fire destroyed them, we built them again. If they tumbled, we tumbled them right back. And in so doing, we built a new breed of human called an American--a proud, independent, somewhat self-centered, modestly greedy, harmlessly obsessed with toilet tissue technology, and a most compassionate individual for the most part. Two hundred years ago Tom Paine, when the 13 tiny colonies were trying to become a nation, said we have it in our power to begin the world over again. . . . Together we can begin the world over again, but only if we start at the right end. We can meet our destiny and that destiny can build a land here that will be for all mankind a little outhouse on a hill, a place where stock prices always rise and nothing flows downhill. I think we ought to get at it.

Chapter 15

Ever since he was a boy running around the wheat fields of the Soviet Republic of Georgia, Mot had dreamed of being free, and most of all, having his own outhouse. Was that too much to ask?

"Mot, it's suppertime! Wash your hands and sit down at the table."

"Ok, ma, what are we having?"

"Stupid boy, what do we always have, boiled cabbage and boiled potatoes."

Mot gazed back at his mother with dejection. Why couldn't he have what his cousin in America ate every day? Moon Pies and RC Cola.

It was then that he decided that one day he must go to ...America!

**********

When it rains in the desert it also rains in your soul.

As Maria drove past the city limit sign of Texaco, Mexico she noticed children playing in the dirt streets with their dogs and cats. She couldn't help but notice the children running in their bare feet. She wondered to herself, "I wonder, do they have shoes?"

As she pulled into the Winn Dixie ( or as it is called in Mexico, La Beeg Grocerio)parking lot, she thought back on when she was a young girl growing up running barefoot in the streets. Yes, she thought, I had shoes but I preferred to be without them. Maybe it is thus with the children.

Smiling at the thought, Maria went into the Winn Dixie and purchased 12 dozen moon pies and 3 dozen RC colas, which legend says is the right amount for a midnight snack for El Bellysario. Also, just to be on the safe side, she grabbed a hundred linear feet of Elizabeth Post Facial Quality Tissue Paper. This too, legend said was a favorite of El Bellysario.

**********

Chapter 16

Mot remembered hearing how Kruschev had told the capitalist pig Kennedy that he would bury all Americans. And all Mot wanted was a chance to bury his own human waste, not have it around the living room forever. So as a young boy Mot began thinking, �those corrupt capitalist pigs are lucky. We�re stuck with Nikita and they have Mickey Mouse.� So Mot would spend his days near the window that faced the south. It was covered with 5 cm. of ice almost all year, but Mot knew that throught that window, somewhere beyond fifteen million KGB agents, 6,745 gulags and half a billion filthy inhouses, there was a land where each man could have his own private outhouse, eat hamburgers every day of the year and never read Trotsky, Lenin, Marx or even Soljenitsin unless he really wanted to. And all he had to do is become a capitalist pig. Those pigs get all the breaks, Mot thought.

**********

Dr. P. N. Fogg never could understand why he was never invited back to America. His article for Gathers No Moss magazine had been righto he thought. At least the magazine had paid him the bloody fee. But here it was twenty-five years later and he was still stuck in London eating kidney pie and fish and chips

All in all he felt he been fair to the band Rampage. Sure, he had written they had a death wish, but wasn't that also true of the Sex Pistols? And how could such an obscure group of musicians blackball him, an eminent musicologist?

But that wasn't what was bothering him the most. Since England had joined the Common Market, there was a ban on moon pies, RC colas, and Elizabeth Post facial quality tissue paper. Back in 1977 he had grown quite accustomed to them.

He had to get back to America. But how?

Chapter 16

Mot remembered asking his mother what communism was.

She said, "that means everything is shared in common."

Mot said, "that's what I hate about this country - everybody shares the inhouse. Why can't I have my own outhouse?"

His mother said, "suffering is good for people. Without it, you'll never understand Russian novels."

Mot said, "I don't like suffering. Suffering stinks like rotten cabbage. Like inhouses. I don't want my share. How do I tell the KGB to redistribute it?"

**********

How do you explain convergence? How do you explain coincidence? How do yo explain destiny? How do you spell...?

Great forces were at work. Forces so great they might prevent a baseball strike. So great they might lift the stock market. So great they might make Democrats smarter.

Maria pulled out of the Winn Dixie and headed back to the little outhouse on the hill. Mot was stowing away on a Russian submarine headed for Panama and Dr. Fogg was crossing the Atlantic in a Boeing 747. Chompy and Chunky were reminiscing. DB was eating and Enrique was peeing again.

All was and was not right with the world.

Chapter 17

Mot thought to himself, "here I am on a submarine headed for America, I think, and I'm still using an inhouse. A very small, smelly inhouse hundreds of meters below sea level. This is not progress. On land, I could at least go outside to get some fresh air before incurring frost bite. I may be mere kilometers from American inhouses, yet I am still stuck with my life's fate. No wonder all our music is depressing while our vodka is good. And how do I know this submarine isn't involved with Mr. Mot Clancy? It's October and we're all Reds, and everyone knows what a boxoffice hit his story became. I do not want my search for outhouse freedom to become lost in a tacky sequel."

**********

Fogg was high above the Atlantic zipping along at Mach 1 or more. He had a smile on his face as he thought about America, especially the Southern tier, that mysterious land his Rampagian hosts had called Texalina.

It was late October and yes he was momentarily happy. Who wouldn't be, what with visions of moon pies and outhouses dancing in one's head. But what if things went wrong, what if Elizabeth Post facial quality tissue paper was no longer sold in stores? He would be devastated.

It would be a Blue November.

Chapter 18

Mot walked along the dock neighborhood of Houston, still shocked that he was actually in American. And the end of his trip was so anti-cliamatic. No Mot Clancy story, no KGB plot. Nothing. The submarine surfaced, it was towed to shore, and he climbed out and into freedom.

Still wondering where he was and where he was going, Mot's attention was drawn to a crowd in a nearby parking lot. He heard a band playing and a sign that read "Rev. Billy Bob Ledbetter Will Bet You $20 That He Can Set You Free Tonight." Mot pulled out $20, ready to find freedom for such a reasonable amount.

**********

Fogg was literally in a fog at the Houston airport. His plane had landed after circling for several hours having had to wait for the fog to dissipate. But remnants of the fog still remained. It reminded Fogg of London and he felt a little homesick.

He took a taxi to downtown Houston and heard a band playing when they rounded Fifth and Central. He told the taxi driver to stop and let him out. Maybe the band was advertising facial quality tissue paper.

Chapter 19

Maria was going over a hundred when she spotted two old men and an ass standing in the middle of the road. She tried to stop in time but she couldn't killing the ass and knocking out the two old men. She dumped them in the trunk and kept on going. She didn't even notice the rolling outhouse.

She found Enrique kneeling in front of the little outhouse on the hill. She cried out to him, "Quick, Enrique, help me with these two old men. They may be badly hurt!"

Enrique rushed to her and helped Maria pull Chunky and Chompy out of the trunk. Luckily, neither one had been hurt too badly.

Chunky spit out a larger than normal wad of tobacco and drawled out, "What happened?"

Maria replied, "I hit you and your friend. Fortunately you are alive but I couldn't save your ass."

**********

Mot joined the line into the tent where he would buy freedom for $20. Soon an attractive young woman walked up to him and offered a booklet titled "Salvation On the Installment Plan."

Mot asked the woman, "what is this installment plan? I want freedom tonight, all the installments."

Lucy Lousie Ledbetter said, "if you want it, you'll get it, dadgum it. Just don't take no for an answer. You're not from around here, are you?"

Mot said, "no, I'm from Georgia."

Lucy Lousie said, "that's what I thought. Up north Georgia way, ain't it"?

Mot said, "yes! How did you know?" "Oh, I've been around. What church did you go to in Georgia?"

Mot said, "oh, I guess you could say I'm a lapsed athiest. Not much church."

Lucy Louise said, "that's Billy Bob's favorite. He just loves backsliding athiests and agnositcs. He says when folks get out of practice at fighting off the Lord, they're a lot easier to pick off than more serious sinners. Like Baptists."

Mot had no idea what Lucy Lousie was talking about, but he was becoming very fond of the way she talked.

They didn't have facial quality tissue paper. Fogg realized it was one those Brother Love traveling shows (he was a Neil Diamond fan). "Well, I'll stay anyway. Maybe someone will bloody well know where I can buy some moon pies and RC cola."

As the Billy Bob's Big Ol' Band played loudly, Lucy Lousie heard someone with a British accent saying, "my, but the lead guitar is frightfully off-key."

Lucy Lousie turned sharply and said, "oh yeah, it sounds pretty good to me, whatever key he's in."

The British speaker said, "please excuse me. I'm a music critic by disease. I simply can't help myself."

Mot turned to the Brit and asked, "are you getting free for $20 tonight, or on the installment plan?"

"Is that a Southern Georgian Soviet Republic farm hand accent I'm hearing? I'm also a distinguished linguist."

Mot started to reply when a booming voice boomed out, "Brothers and sisters..."

Chapter 20

Chunky and Chompy were to say the least quite disconcerted. Well, that's not quite right, Chompy did attend a Willie Nelson concert in Dime Box. Willie thought he was in Austin.

Maria cleared her throat and said, "Well, old timers, you seem to be OK."

Chunky looked around and said, "Pretty much, but where's Chinky, my trusted amigo, my burro of consequence?"

Maria looked at the ground and replied, "Chinky didn't make it."

At hearing this, Chunky broke down in great sobs and cried out, "Chinky was the best burro I ever had!"

No one said anything to Chunky. There was nothing to say. It was all said.

**********

Rev. Billy Bob Ledbetter continued, "folks, I know you're enjoyin' this fine music, but you don't know how good it's gonna get. We got a special guest artist here to bring us some good old-fashioned country tent meeting music. Ladies and gentelmen, let's give a big ol' sinners' welcome to Mr. DB Belly from Dime Box, Texas."

A remarkably large man stepped on the stage. He made his way to a microphone, and began earnestly singing "Will the Circle Be Unbroken." As he sang, he began to literally stomp his foot on the temporary, somewhat shaky stage. Soon, the force of his foot hitting the stage made the drummer, along his drums, jump toward the rear of the stage. Thirty seconds into the song, the drummer fell off the stage. And the lead guitarist was heading in the same direction. Mr. Belly, however, appeared to be completley oblivious to the havoc he was creating, as he sang with unusual intensity, eyes close tightly.

In the audience, a British accent could be heard saying, "my, that chap is so grossly primitive, he's brilliant. This fellow could be a star in the U.K."

Chapter 21

Fogg couldn't help but notice the chocolaty, marshmellowy fragments around Mr. Belly's mouth. Could it be? Yes! It had to be! It was the remains of a moon pie. His quest may not be in vain.

Wonder where this Mr. Belly was from? Chances were that such an enormous appetite needed huge supplies of moon pies and RC cola to stay satisfied. Now Fogg was beginning to understand the cause of the worldwide shortage of the aforementioned natural resources. All Fogg had to do was follow this Belly fellow back to his hometown. There he would find the mother lode.

Fogg had a plan.

**********

After Mr. Belly had finished singing every word of "Will the circle be unbroken" that he knew and added several that no one seemed to understand, he opened his eyes and said, to no one in particular, "sangin' sure makes me hungry," not noticing that his foot stomping had cleared the stage of everything except himself and the microphone he had been holding.

As Mr. Belly reached into the bib of his overalls, Lucy Louise yelled out, "I have a witness!" And she slowly recited the following:

"People are starving in the streets."

"They are also starving in their mansions."

"Where is happiness?"

"Somewhere buried beneath the ocean."

"Can we bring it to the surface?"

"No, it would evaporate."

Just then, Mr. Belly was heard loudly saying, "dadgum it, it's melted on me!" as he pushed the soggy contents of a Moon Pie serving up to his mouth, leaving a prominent chocolate residue around his mouth.

Mot was becoming concerned. All this talk of evaporation and melting was not what he was expecting at a bargain sale of freedom. Then he heard that British voice say, "by jove, I know who wrote that witness!"

Mot was beginning to think he was in the wrong place, even in his beloved America.

Chapter 22

Mr. Belly was heard saying, over and over, �ever dadgum one a my Moon Pies has gone and melted. Dadgum, it ain�t that dadgum hot. Course, they purty tasty like this. Maybe I�ll start micerwavin� �em.� His concern didn�t seem to be impacting his appetite.

Rev. Billy Bob Ledbetter then stepped onto what was left of the stage, saying, �I have always said that Houston sinners are the best in the world. You know what, if you�re gonna sin, it helps to do it real well, �cause that makes getting� saved a bigger contrast, you know what I mean?�

Mot didn�t, but he was glad to finally hear from the man who was going to sell him freedom.

The Brit stepped beside Mr. Belly and said, �my, my, chap, your singing was quite noteworthy. Do you make records?�

Mr. Belly reluctantly paused from his Moon Pie consumption to say, �I got the Dime Box records for eatin� watermelon, pig ribs, steer ribs and pages 2, 3, 4 and 5 at all the restaurants in the county. I don�t �member what all�s on �em. They was purty good, tho.�

Fogg thought to himself, "Dime Box, that must be the name of a town in Texas. I must consult an atlas. If I can get there before this Belly fellow I may have a chance to investigate his food supplies. Wonder if they sell facial quality tissue paper in Dime Box?"

Chapter 23

The Brit then asked, �how would you describe your musical orientation?�

Mr. Belly said �I don�t have one so far as what I know� before literally stuffing melted chocolate, marshmallow and graham cracker into his mouth.

The Brit then said, �if I�m not mistaken, that wonderful confection you are eating is commonly called Moon Pie here in the colonies.�

DB said, �that there�s what I call it. Course, this here�s melted Moon Pie, which ain�t the same. I guess you could still call it that if you want to though.�

The Brit then said, �could I offer you a bit of Elizabeth Post Facial Quality Toilet Tissue for tidying up?� Mr. Belly then stood completely still, pausing with food in his mouth for possibly the first time in his life, totally transfixed by the paper being held in the Brit�s hand.

**********

Maria thought the old geezer was going to cry himself into a stupor. And all because of an old burro. But she sort of understood how he felt. She'd feel the same way if Enrique bit the dust.

Speaking of Enrique, he was just then walking up to where Maria, Chunky, and Chompy were gathered, "Hey, Maria, you no come back alone. Who are these men? They look as old as the hills that are alive with music."

"Shut up, Enrique, and get the moon pies and RC cola out of the back seat and put them beside the little outhouse on the hill." "What outhouse?" Chunky, who was slowing coming out of his dead burro induced coma, asked.

"The one on the hill," Maria replied, "the one that is and isn't."

"Moon Pies and RC Cola? Why, that's two of DB's favorite fuds!" Chompy exclaimed.

Chunky then blurted, "outhouse that is and isn't. What the hell you talking about?"

"Shut up! Chunky" Chompy rather rudely shouted, "what's this moon pie and RC Cola business all about? Do yall know DB?"

"We do not know any DB," Maria coolly replied, "the food and drink is for El Bellysario who is prophesied to arrive in his golden chariot. He will be fat and hungry and thirsty. We must be prepared or there will be great calamity."

"Hot damn!" was all that Chompy could get out.

Chapter 24

There was no doubt about it. Fogg needed to get to Dime Box. But how? His money was just about out and besides, he had no clue where it was. Wait a bloody minute! Mr. Belly lived in Dime Box. Maybe he could catch a ride with him. But the big question was, would there be enough room?

"Where ya did you git dat Liz Post frum, boy?"

"You mean this facial quality tissue paper?

"You know whut I mean."

"Yes, I suppose I do, but why don't I tell you about it on our way to Dime Box."

"Huh?"

**********

"Now I understand!" cried Chompy, "The magic outhouse, the outhouse that is and isn't, is really ole DB's rolling outhouse. At one moment it is, because it's standing there, the next moment it isn't, because it's moved on its wheels to a new location."

"What are you blathering about?" asked Maria.

"I ain't blathering and you better treat me right," Chompy replied, almost indignantly, "because I know where the golden chariot is."

**********

Meanwhile back in Dime Box, the citizens of town were taking the opportunity of DB being away to do a little celebrating. They decided not to eat anything for four hours.

It was a bold decision.

Chapter 25

"What do you mean, you old fool, when you say you know where El Bellysario's golden chariot is?" Maria looked hard at Chompy, not even trying to hide her disbelief and disgust.

"It's about three miles down the road." Chompy replied in a defiant tone.

"It's true." Chunky chimed in. He was slowly getting over the lost of his ass.

"How can you say such a thing? Enrique, shoot them." Maria tossed the snub-nosed Saturday Night 38 Special over to Enrique.

"But, Maria, I only kill rabbits and field mice."

"It's time you became a man, Enrique."

"But, Maria, I thought the other night..."

"Be quiet! I will do it myself. Hand me back the snub-nosed Saturday Night 38 Special."

Chompy thought it was time to say something, "I can prove it. Take us back to where you hit us with your car and killed Chunky's ass. The golden chariot, as you call it, is very near that spot."

Maria started to pull the trigger but for some reason she couldn't explain she stopped and said, "Jump in."

**********

Mr. Belly finally spoke, asking, "you funnin' me? That there tissue really made by Miz Emily?"

The Brit replied, "oh, yes. You Yanks probably don't know that she relocated her facilities. The dreadful Carter economy created an embezzlement situation, not to mention the tax difficulty, and she moved south."

Mr. Belly asked, "where south?"

The Brit said, "an elusive place I'm sure you've never heard of. The locals call it Texaco."

Mr. Belly sat down on the stage, even as the Rev. Billy Bob crew was trying to repair it. He asked the Brit, "yow mean to say Miz. Emily is down there where my grandma used to take me?"

The Brit asked, "your grandmother?"

Mr. Belly said, "goodness yes, grandma. Don't you 'member her? Shoot, everbody knows grandma. I don't know why you don't."

Mr. Belly slowly moved to a seat at the rear of the tent as Lucy Lousie began leading the crowd in song. He was joined by the Brit and Mot.

Mot whispered to Mr. Belly, "you must be careful. I do not trust the limey. And be very careful what you wish for. Reality does not always match anticipation."

Mr. Belly asked, "where you from in Texas anyways?"

Mot replied, "Georgia."

DB said, "dadgum, you don't sound much like a Georgia feller."

Mot said, "the other Georgia. The former Soviet Union."

Mr. Belly became so agitated he dropped two boxes of soggy Moon Pies as he exclaimed, "good night in the mornin', you a dadgum commanist?"

Mot said, "by birth. By choice, I am a pig farmer and vodka maker. And after I buy freedom for $20, an American."

Chapter 26

Mr. Belly slumped in his chair, to the degree that a 385 lb. man can slump. He looked absently at the stage, saying, "well, I'll be dadgumed. I just came here to sang a dadgum song on the way to Texaco to see what's become of my dadgum rollin' outhouse, and here I am with meltin' Moon Pies, sittin' by a dadgum commanist. I got me a chance to finally use some a Miz Lizabeth's fine toilet tissue, and a dadgum commanist is tellin' me not to. And the feller what says he knows where Miz Lizabeth's at talks all funny and uses them big ol' words. I jist don't know what's a goin' on no more."

Mot whispered, "the key is to remember the reality of rising expectations. That's an American concept, and you should understand it better than me."

Mr. Belly said, "well, I'll tell you one thang, meltin' dadgum Moon Pies ain't Amurican no more then nothin'."

**********

As they drove to the rolling outhouse, Maria listened to Chompy and Chunky sing a duet in the back seat. Even though they hadn't seen each other in seventy-two years, they remembered the song from their high school days.

"Reality is much too fleeting/ So hard, so unfeeling"

Maria hollered to the back, "What's that you boys singing? It sounds familiar."

Chunky hollered back, "It's from 'The Reality Trilogy'. Troubador Tom sang it back in 1930 when he and Woody Guthrie passed through Dime Box on their way to California."

"Quite haunting," thought Maria, "perhaps I can translate it into Spanish when this adventure is over."

Chapter 27

Sometimes, at moments like this, when two old geezers were singing old songs in the back of the car, and Enrique was sleeping in the front seat beside her, Maria's thoughts would turn back to long ago, when her ancestors, the inhabitants of San Manse', lived in simplicity and in harmony with nature. And really that's what this quest (the search for the little ouhouse on the hill) was all about: a return to nature and a distancing from the trappings of modern society, a society that would enslave humans to a life of non-outhousing (or inhousing). Yes, it was a dangerous path she was following, but would El Bellysario do any less? As she thought these thoughts she solemny took a bite of moon pie and washed it down with a gulp of RC Cola.

**********

Fogg had decided that this Belly fellow was somewhat naive but not as dumb as he appeared (nobody could be). The Mot fellow, though, was bloody inconvenient. What gave him the right to be whispering suggestions to Mr. Belly (whom he had just met) and what were those suggestions?

Mot did remind Fogg of the one of the original members of Rampage, the band he had both praised and trashed in the Age of Carter. Deja' vu?

**********

Chapter 28

In all her nineteen years, Maria had never seen anything quite so wonderful as the golden chariot that lay in the distance only a quarter of a mile or so from where she had stopped the car. She had decided that it would be blasphemous to park too close to El Bellysario's chariot.

"Wake up, Enrique, we are here."

"Why so far away, Maria?"

"Because legend says that El Bellysario does not respect automobiles built after 1950."

"Why?"

"That was the year of his birth."

**********

The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Fogg spoke the words as if he really meant them.

DB rolled both his eyes and his stomach, "Whut da hell ya talkin' 'bout, boy?"

Fogg paused for a moment then said, "I mean, dear fellow, there are bloody foxes in the henhouse."

"Come agin." DB was getting hungry and losing patience. This British Yankee was starting to get on his nerves.

"Do you think it's just a coincidence that you were asked to sing all the way up here in Houston and was given a chauffered ride in a 1935 Packard and when you get here you're informed that your rolling outhouse is missing?"

"It wuz a mite strange, now that you mention it."

Fogg quit talking and walked away, knowing he had planted seeds that would germinate and grow. As long as they got the proper amount of watering.

***********

As Rev. Billy Bob delivered his message, Mot raised his hand several times, eager to get on with purchasing freedom. Finally, Lucy Lousie came over to see what he wanted.

Mot told her, �he keeps saying who wants to be free. Me. I want free. But he just ignores me. What is he waiting for?�

Lucy Lousie said, �well, shoot, he�s got to do some preachin� first; that�s part of the deal.�

Mot said, �just tell me when I get free for $20.�

Lucy replied, �well, maybe I can speed things up for you some. First off, tell me what you know about church stuff, so I can skip the stuff you already know.�

Mot said, �oh, I used to be a good atheist boy, but for years now I just haven�t been able to get really worked up about it. I�ve lost my faith.�

Lucy asked, �you don�t believe that you don�t believe anymore?�

Mot said, �that�s true. I don�t know that I don�t know the way I used to. I�m thinking that I know but I�m not sure what I know. Except that I want a pig farm in America. With a vodka business on the side.�

Lucy said, �dadgum, you sound like Billy Bob�s sort. You Georgia folks aren�t all that strange, are you? You�re not related to those Carters are you? If you are, Billy Bob will probably tell you to either find another preacher or pay double.�

Chapter 29

As soon as Rev. Billy Bob began the altar call, Lucy Lousie led Mot up to the stage and told him to kneel there.

�Why?�

�That�s the rule, Georgia. If you want to get saved, you got to kneel. There ain�t no way around it.�

Not understanding why, Mot did as he was told. Soon, Rev. Billy Bob walked over. Mot jerked back as Billy Bob reached out for his head. Not soon enough, though. Billy Bob grabbed his skull and said something in English Mot hadn�t learned. This seemed very unusual, but then, so had everything else he�d seen so far.

Billy Bob asked, �what�s your burden, my friend?�

Mot said, �I want free. U.S. citizen. Free to stay.�

Billy Bob said, �dadgum, that�s the first time I ever been asked to heal someone of bein� a dadgum illegal alien. Is that what you are?�

�Not yet,� said Mot, �but after 90 days, yes. And I want to stary here more than 90 days.�

Billy Bob said, �well, here�s what I�d recommend. Apply to be a citizen and then get lost. Head off to a place where no one in the government is likely to find you.�

Mot asked,�and where would that be?�

Billy Bob said, �well, there�s a few places to get lost, but my favorite Is Dime Box, Texas. Now that that�s out of the way, what are we gonna do about your soul?�

Mot asked, �is that part of the $20 package?�

Billy Bob said, �for you, I�ll make it a $25 package deal.�

Mot said, �OK. So what are you going to do with my soul?�

Billy Bob said, �it depends. Some souls take a lot of work, and I ain�t got much time tonight. You ain�t a Baptist or Church of Chirst are you?�

Mot said, �no. Atheist and communist in childhood. Nothing lately.�

Billy Bob said, �well shoot, piece of cake. Just go pray with Lucy for a while, give her $25, and she�ll get you signed up. And don�t forget your quarterly love offerings.�

Mot had no idea what he was talking about, but somehow he seemed to have promising ideas. And he had to find out where this Dime Box, Texas might be located.

**********

It was about 5 AM in the morning and the sun was peeking over the eastern horizon trying to decide whether it wanted to keep coming up or not. Apparently it didn't like what it saw but knew it really had no choice so it came on up anyway.

Maria, Enrique, and the Adams Brothers had spent the night staring at the golden chariot and filling up on moon pies and RC Cola.

"Damn!", Maria exclaimed, "we ate all the moon pies and drank all the RC Colas. I meant to pay homage to El Bellysario with them."

"Don't worry," said Chompy, "there's plenty more."

"Where?" asked Maria.

"In that rolling outhouse yonder." replied Chompy.

"You mean El Bellysario's golden chariot?"

"Yes, and there's also a refrigerator, heater and AC, and 10,000 feet of Elizabeth Post Facial Quality Toilet Paper."

Maria, Enrique, and Chunky were stunned and for a while no one spoke. Then Maria gasped, "No wonder they call it the Chariot of the Gods!"

**********

Mot returned to his seat and asked Mr. Belly, �do you know Dime Box, in Texas?�

Mr. Belly said, �why, goodness yes. Everbody I know knows Dime Box. Don�t you? Dadgum, I don�t know why you wouldn�t. Even commanists ourght to know �bout Dime Box.�

Mot said, �Mr. Rev. Billy Bob tells me that is where I should go. To become American citizen and pig farmer, making vodka on the side.�

Mr. Belly replied, �well, shoot, if you know pigs I guess I could use you for a while at the B6 in Dime Box. I usually like to hire Mexicans but I guess I could make a exception. You�ll have to give up that commanist mess though. And you�ll have to say the Pledge of Delinquence �fore you�ll be workin� for Bellys, I can tell you that.�

Mot said, �sure, whatever you want me to say.�

Mr Belly said, �OK, you repeat after me:

� I pledge that I�m a good Amurican, that I�ll use outhouses any time I can, that I won�t spend no time up among them Yankees if I can help it, that I won�t go �round stealin�, lyin� or doin� other Yankee stuff, an I won�t never, never fail to eat all the fud on my plate. And if I slip up on any a this, I won�t act all surprised when somebody comes after me with a shotgun.�

Mot repeated every word, wondering what he was getting himself into, and what a B6 might be. Then he said, �and how do I get to Dime Box?�

Mr. Belly said, �well, I got room in the back, but I won�t be goin� right back there. You can choose for your own self. This dadgum funny talkin� feller says he wants a ride too, and he�d be the back too.�

Minutes later, Mot and the Brit discovered what Mr. Belly meant by �the back� � a hog trailer he was towing behind his 1947 GMC flatbed truck.

�But, isn�t that where swine have defecated?� asked the Brit.

Mr. Belly said, �I don�t know what you talkin� �bout, but I�m leavin� soon as I git me some Shiner out of the ice chest and some Moon Pies that ain�t melted. You boys can settle in if you want to go a ridin�. That there�s a real nice ride for pigs, I can tell you that. I ain�t lost one yet.�

**********

It was now about 7 AM in the morning and the sun had not only risen it had gotten hot too. But that's the way of the desert.

Maria led the way as she, and the Adams boys (Enrique stayed behind. He had fallen back asleep.) started slowly trudging toward the rolling outhouse. It loomed yellow and vast in the heat waves, appearing and disappearing like a panther in the jungle, stalking its prey.

As they drew nearer they noticed a symbol on the side of the outhouse. For what seemed like a long time they couldn't make it out, but reaching thirty feet of the outhouse they realized they were staring at a large belly. Of course, Chompy had all along knew what it was but he didn't want to spoil the surprise.

Upon seeing the belly, Maria fell to her knees, and cried out in reverent tones, "El Bellysario, big and fat and hungry, we pay honor to you, for saving us, the San Manseans from the 'Skinny Ones.'"

Upon hearing the term, Chunky asked, "Who are the 'Skinny Ones?"

Chapter 30

The Skinny Ones! Who were they and why did they pose such a threat to the San Mansean civilization?

"They were skinny," Maria answered (who asked the question? oh, yeah the omniscient narrator), and they liked to exercise and drink lots of pure mountain water, and eat nothing but fruits, vegetables, and whole grains."

"Wow," said Chunky, "no trans fatty acids?"

"None," said Maria.

"A life like that ain't worth living." responded Chompy.

"But we were ignorant and easily deceived. We were like sheep led to the slaughter."

"Did the Skinny ones have a leader?"

"They were several of them. They had strange names like Al, Babs, Hillary, Dash, and Geppie. They pretended to care for us only to make us dependent on their dietary and exercise regimen. We had to lose weight or be banished from the city. No gains were allowed not even capital ones."

"What happened?

"El Bellysario came over the mountain and taught us the Belly Way. And he brought with him Bar-b-que (both pork and beef), the secret of deep frying, sugar-laden cakes and cookies, soft drinks, and how to lay on the couch and watch television for hours upon hours. That is why we call him our great liberator."

"Where is San Manse'?"

"That's a story for another time." Maria looked into the distance and pursed her lips.

**********

By midnight, Mr. Belly and his guests in the pig trailer were 400 miles from Houston. Mr. Belly stopped to get some gas, and found Mot wide awake, singing songs in a funny language. The Brit was souind asleep, with a mass of blankets over his head.

Mot said to Mr. Belly, �wonderful ride! Now I know about Western decadence. The most comfortable bedroom I have ever known, and it moves! The breeze keeps me from ever becoming hot. A miracle in housing. Does anyone else know about this?�

Mr. Belly said, �not unless them pigs has been runnin� they mouths.�

Then Mot said, �you wouldn�t believe it, but the limey does not like wonderful moving bedroom. Many complaints before he went to sleep. Don�t talk too loud, or he will be up and complaining again.�

Mr. Belly said, �well, all I know is that the dadgum pigs likes it real nice back here and I�ve me a nice nap back here too. Some peoples just don�t know what good sleepin� is all �bout. We�ll be in Texaco round sunup I reckon. Gets a little hot out there.�

**********

Chunky was still grieving over losing his ass and had wandered off into the desert to seek some consolation. Chompy invited Maria to take a look inside the rolling outhouse.

Upon entering Maria was immediately struck by what looked like kitchen cabinets. When she opened one about twenty moon pies fell on top of her.

"Yes, this must be the chariot of El Bellysario."

They continued looking. Inside the refrigerator and freezer were vast quantities of meat along with at least fifty products containing trans fatty acids. But try as she might Maria could not locate any RC Colas. They were dozens of brown bottles, however, with no inscription.

"Where are the RC Colas, Chompy?"

"You better sit down, Maria."

Maria promptly sat and Chompy said, "DB hasn't drunk a RC Cola since he was twelve years old. He says RC colas are for kids. Those brown bottles are Shiner beer. DB keeps the Shiner company in business by himself.

Maria took it better than Chompy thought she would. "Does Shiner have trans fatty acids?"

"No, but it's got lots of calories.

"Good enough."

**********

At 5 a.m. Mountain Time, Mr. Belly stopped for gas again. Once again, Mot was wide awake, still singing songs Mr. Belly didn�t understand, and the Brit was still sleeping, this time sayin things Mr. Belly didn�t understand. Mr. Belly told Mot, �now listen here, we�ll be in Texaco �fore long, and what I�m lookin� for is my rollin� outhouse. So you keep an eye out for it, OK?�

Mot asked, �what does it look like?�

Mr. Belly said, �why shoot, you don�t know? Dadgum, everbody I know knows �bout the rollin� outhouse. You know � it�s a dadgum outhouse on a �44 GMC flatbed chassis, with a �46 Plymouth on one end and a �48 Cadillac on the other. Dadgum, I�d a thought commanists would know all �bout that, seein� how it�s just about the most modernist dadgum outhouse anybody ever seen. What in the world are all them commanist spies doin� anyway? If they don�t know �bout the rollin� outhouse, they loafin� on the job, I can tell you that.�

Mot was completely baffled, but said, �I�m sure I�ll know it when I see it.�

Then Mr. Belly said, �we got to eat a real good breakfast now. You don�t want to go into Texaco without a real good fuding. They serve up a nice bunch a fud here. I recommend page 3 to start off with, and the top a page 5 after that. You wake up that other feller too. He�s got to eat right if he�s gonna ride in the Belly pig car, I can tell you that.�

Chapter 31

After inspecting the inside of the rolling outhouse, and not needing to use the facilities, Maria told Chompy she wanted to look around the outside of the outhouse.

The outhouse was painted yellow (hence golden). Chompy told Maria that yellow was DB's favorite color ever his friend Sloppy had sent him some Maurice's BBQ sauce from South Carolina.

Maria, ever vigilant, said, "I don't see any place to put gas in. Doesn't this thing run on gasoline?"

Chompy replied, with a twinkle in his eye, "It runs on gas alright, but not that kind."

**********

Fogg sometimes wondered how he got himself into these situations but he realized that he was an old empire man at heart, and like his hero Winston Churchill, he had a fondness for the colonies. Yes, they drank their tea in a bloody, abominable manner with ice cubes but they had some admirable qualities too. At the moment he just couldn't remember any of them.

**********

Maria returned Chompy's twinkle with a hard stare, "What do you mean, 'not that kind'?"

"DB has discovered a solution for the energy crisis." Chompy said proudly. "His rolling outhouse runs on methane."

"Where does methane come from?" Maria asked, thinking all along that she may already know the answer.

"Human waste, of course."

"You don't say!"

"I do say. Makes sense though doesn't it? What good is a rolling outhouse if it has no way of getting rid of the waste? Dump it in the road and next thing you know you're in jail. DB may not be the smartest cookie on the block but he knew he wasn't going nowhere if he didn't figure out what to do with the waste, and the way DB eats, there's plenty of it!"

Maria paused for a moment and said, "You would think that people like the Skinny Ones would be happy at such an invention."

Chompy replied, "That's the kickin' thing. They're not because they'd have to change their diet. The primary ingridients for DB's "gas" is fried foods filled with trans-fatty acids. It's what DB calls QC which stands for Quantity Control. People like the Skinny Ones have a diet that is lacking in both quality and quantity to produce the wastes needed to power the rolling outhouse."

"So people like the Skinny Ones are the architects of their own doom?"

"DB couldn't have said it better."

Chapter 32

That night around the fire, after a meal heavily laced with trans fatty acids (they were leaving the next day for Dime Box and needed to make sure there was plenty of fuel), Maria requested of Chompy, "Tell me more about El Bellysario, the one you call DB. What does he like to do besides eat?"

Chompy replied, "There is no 'besides eating' to DB. Whatever he does includes food or he doesn't do it. However, he does enjoy watching baseball."

"Why baseball?"

"Because the same man, Archie Abercrombie, who invented the outhouse as we know it, also inspired the invention of the game of baseball."

"You don't say!"

"I do say but let me say it to you even better by reading it to you out of 'The Book'!"

"What do you mean, 'The Book'"?

"I mean 'The Book' or as it is sold in bookstores, 'The Linear Outhouse: Mother Nature Through The Ages' by Steven Harold Isuzu-Toyota." And with that remark, Chompy walked into the rolling outhouse and returned with a thick book battered and dog-eared from constant use."

Sitting close to the campfire so he could see better, Chomping started reading out loud,"...On page 32, it says that 'the outhouse as we know it was first built in 1732 by a guy named Archie in Southern Virginia. The diamond window shape on the door was really the letter A on top of another letter A. '...the diamond shape on the outhouse door was the inspiration for the baseball diamond and the positioning of bases. He also says the four points of the diamond represented the number of bowel movements an individual should have each day.'

"Seems they ate a lot of roughage in those days"'....One BM a day would be a single, two BMs a double, and so on. No BMs would be a strike out. Not taking a laxative after a BMless day would be an error.'

"...Archie apparently had a speech defect. 'Whenever he got back from the outhouse he would say, 'I just had a good hit'. Archie had trouble pronouncing the letter S when it came at the start of a word. Thus the origin of the baseball word 'hit'. When you had a unsuccessful trip to the outhouse, Archie would call it a 'no-hitter', and would say you needed bulk in your diet, but Archie's speech defect would make bulk sound like balk. Then Archie would say he had a secret recipe (laxative) that would solve your hitting problems. One of the ingredients was a strong one, an ounce of cow feed. Well, the secret got out, and people started saying Archie was going to the bull pen" to 'save' the day.

".'..Archie's last name was Abercrombie and he never used toilet paper. He said it interfered with mother nature but what really happened was drainage, thus the origin of 'foul balls'.

"Off the subject of baseball, but interesting nonetheless is the following statement,

' ...Archie was a contemporary of George Washington. Archie once commented that George was a little eccentric about his outhouse habits. George liked facial quality tissue paper which at the time was only made in England. A tariff was put on TP and Archie suspected that this was the real cause of the American Revolution.'

"Back to baseball, '... Legend has it that Archie died in 1779 when a British cannon ball blew up the outhouse he was in. Archie was a major in the Continental Army at the time, thus the term 'Major Leaves'.

'... You know how baseball players wear those pants that go down just below the knee? Archie invented them for outhouses that had an overflow problem. Archie is the only man in history to get ahead with his behind.'"

Chompy closed the book and everyone decided to get some shuteye. The trip to Dime Box would begin first thing in the AM (morning, that is)

Chapter 33

It was mid-morning and they had gone about thirty miles in three hours. The rolling outhouse was mighty comfortable but it wasn't very swift. Perhaps the octane level of the fuel was low.

Maria was lost in thought (thinking about San Manse'), Enrique was sleeping (He slept a lot) and Chunky and Chompy were singing more of Troubador Tom's songs. One went a little like this,

"The reality of rising expectations

"have sprung us

"almost without warning

"the certainty of lifeless corpses

"have shut our eyes

weighed us down with mourning"

"Man," Maria said, "that's some depressing stuff. Who wrote it?"

"We don't know,"replied Chunky, "and Troubador Tom didn't know either. TT always suspected that Acapulco Tom wrote it but could never prove it."

"Who was," Maria asked, "Acapulco Tom and why did Troubador Tom think he wrote it?"

"You ask many questions, senorita," said Chunky, "but they are good questions deserving of answers."

"So answers me."

"I'll try. AT was TT's cousin. They were both from Fort Worth and grew up listening to Stephen Foster. They went in radically different directions however. TT followed a more traditional route performing with the Carter family, Duke Ellington, Frank Sinatra, Mozart, and John Lennon. AT scorned the establishment in favor of musical experimentation. He first move was to get rid of all musical instruments, hence the term acapulco. Later he gave up singing lyrics. At this point he felt he was at the apogee of his career, no music and no words."

"Whatever happened to AT?

"He became a hermit in the mountains of Northern Mexico."

When Maria heard that last remark, her eyebrows shot up.

**********

Life is ironic but it can be steelic too. Here we have DB, Fogg, and Mot headed for Texaco, Mexico in search of the rolling outhouse. And here we have Maria, Enrique, and the Adams brothers in the rolling outhouse headed toward Dime Box to get the rolling outhouse back there before DB finds out it's missing. But DB knows that it is missing. How did he find out? Now I (I, your omniscient narrator)have gone back over the text and cannot find a place where Chompy explains why he borrowed the rolling outhouse in the first place. What's going on here? Have we left out characters central to the plot? Maybe your omniscient narrator is not so omniscient after all. Is there another narrator at work here, similar to Adam Smith's "Invisible Hand"? Is someone working behind the scenes, manipulating the characters, motivating them to do and say things that are not logically inherent in the narrative? We (the ominiscient narrator as the royal we) feel we have the skill and expertise necessary to make this the worst novel ever. We believe we're up to the job and the results so far bear that out. We don't need help.

Chapter 33

He fell down the mountain as if in free fall then he hit the narrow slope and started tumbling, tumbling over and over and over. His mind was a rainbow of colors and bright imaginings. He felt drugged without drugs, drunk without drinks, nicotined without nicotine. He thought of a guitar and wondered, "why did I desert you?" He then lost consciousness and rolled into the path of an oncoming vehicle. Someone in the vehicle spotted him and yelled, "Stop!", but it was too late. He was crushed by the tires and the great weight and never regained consciousness. He died as he had lived, rushing fearlessly into the void.

**********

Lucy put the Beamer in fifth and settled into an easy fifty-five miles per hour thinking this (following a pig trailer) had to be the worst assignment the KGB had ever given her. Well, the second worst anyway. Pretending to be that money-hungry charlatan's niece for five long years was much worse than the stink she'd been tailing for five hundred miles. And, besides, this new assignment would give her the chance to see the cute Russian immigrant again. She was getting tired of Southern rednecks.

**********

After hearing the awful crunch and thud of the rolling outhouse's tires, Maria and the Adams boys (Enrique was still sleeping) jumped out and took a look at the crushed and lifeless corpse on the ground.

"Ouch!," cried Chunky, "I bet that hurt a mite."

Chompy kneeled down and took a close look at the body. "Well, I jiggee! Chunky, looka here at this face. Who does that remind of you?"

Chunky stared hard at the face for a while and said, "If I didn't know better, I'd say that was Acapulco Tom."

Maria then spoke, "We called him simply Al."

"What you talking about," Chompy uttered, "you know Acapulco?"

"Yes, he was one of 'The Skinny Ones'."

"When you used the name Al aways back we thought you wuz talking about Al Gore."

"Al Gore was also one of 'The Skinny Ones' but after a while he found he had a fondness for partially hydrogenated foods and joined the rebellion against 'The Skinny Ones'. He died crying the words, 'Long live partially hydrogenated foods!' The citizens of San Manse'(pronounced San Mown Zay - emphasis on second syllable). built a statue in his honor. It was made of wood."

They realized there was nothing else they could do for Acapulco Tom, so as to be fitting to his life and memory they buried him in a grave that wasn't dug.

Chapter 34

DB had gotten tired of Fogg's bellyaching and had allowed him to sit in the front seat of the truck. Mot said he didn't mind riding by himself in the back. He had things on his mind, one of which was wondering if he'd get to see Lucy again.

Fogg initiated a conversation with DB. "Back at the restaurant, after I had finished my meal, and you were switching from page 3 to page 5, I went on the Internet."

"I wuz wonderin' where you had gone, but when I'm fuding I don't really have time to worry about people's comings and goings." DB replied.

"Yes, the proprietor of the establishment was kind enough to allow me to connect my hand held computer to one of his telephone lines.

"Say whut?" DB was beginning to regret letting this British Yankee ride up front with him.

"The Internet, my dear boy, the world wide web. Surely you've heard of it." Fogg unctiously commented.

"If it ain't beer, barbeque, or bait I don't really worry myself too much about it." DB replied taking a swig of Shiner.

"Well, to make a long story short, I did a little research while you were padding your beloved belly. And I found out something bloody fascinating."

DB looked askanced at Fogg and wondered if he should kick him out here or at the Rio Grande, but what the heck he might as well hear what he had to say. It might be entertaining, enough so to help pass the time until it was fuding time again.

"Yes, DB, my good man, I know exactly what you are. You're a spy!"

***************

As Mr. Belly, Mot and the Brit took seats at a table at the Porque Pig Es Bueno cafe, a bit of tension was in the air. Mr. Belly was uncharacteristically uncertain which page of the menu to begin with, because it was in Spanish. After approximately four seconds of indecision, very possibly a personal record, he said, "oh, give me dos to start off with."

Somewhere around the middle of page tres's offerings, Mr. Belly was sufficiently fuded to take notice of his fellow diners. He heard the Brit saying to Mot,

"I'm an anthropologist, you see, and take keen note of odd behavior."

Mr. Belly sternly cautioned the Brit, "dadgum it, don't go talkin' dirty! It's bad enough that Mot's tryin' to give up that commanist bidness. We don't need no filthy talk on top a that with the."

The Brit said, somewhat brusquely, "you can't be serious, chap."

DB responded threateningly, "you know what - if I was to sit on you, you'd be turnin' blue 'fore you could count to twelve. Leave the countin' to me and you'd be in bigger trouble, cause my counter don't work past ten."

The Brit took care to say, "but of course, my good man."

A sense of unusual curiousity then briefly overtook Mr. Belly as he asked, "what was yore name anyway?"

The Brit said, "Fogg, Wilfred Fogg."

Mr. Belly said, "nice ta meat you, Frog."

Fogg decided not to correct Mr. Belly's pronunciation of his name.

Mot changed the subject, such as it was, by asking, "and why are we going to Texaco on the way to Dime Box?"

Mr. Belly said, "oh, I'm gonna have to tow the dadgum rollin' outhouse back. Hopin' to find some nice pigs too, but you never know. I never should a let Buford put that dadgum Patty Burner on there in the first dadgum place."

Mot asked, "Buford? Patty Burner?"

Mr. Belly, said, "don't you 'member? Buford, my dadgum nephew, taken out the Cleveland 450 I had in the dadgum rollin' outhouse, and put in a engine that runs on cow pattys. Well, Buford called up the other day sayin' I better not run the dadgum thant too far from Dime Box anytime soon cause he just figured out that it runs on pig patties if the pigs has been fed on Twankies and Moon Pies, but not any other kind a patties. Not cow patties or goat patties or even pig patties if the pigs hadn't been eatin' like Belly pigs. Put some a that other mess in there and it'll flat out stop. Dadgum thang never run right anyways far as I'm thankin'. But shoot, now the dadgum rollin' outhouse is gonna be dead on the side a the road. Dadgum disgrace for outhouses everwhere, dadgum it. Now the dadgum BOM'll be aggervated on top a everthang else."

Mot had no idea what this rolling outhouse might be, what a Patty Burner is, or where Texaco might be located, but somehow it made sense at the time to ask, "and why is the rolling outhouse in Texaco?"

Mot was comforted when Mr. Belly said, "I don't know, dadgum it."

Either anticipating Mot's next question, or, more likely, simply saying what was next on his mind, Mr. Belly continued, "ol Buford told me. He put a dadgum radio outfit in there here while back after I got turned around on the state road and winded up lost for two days, so he knows where the dadgum rollin' outhouse is even when I don't. And he told me I had done drove too dadgum far in the dadgum thang, and that I better get it turned around. And I told him that I wadn't in the dadgum outhouse, that I was in the dadgum B6 in Dime Box, where he had called me, dadgum it. And he said well, I better get it turned around anyway, whether I was in it or not. See?"

Mot didn't. And he was becoming a bit exasperated. America or not, the situation was becoming just too dadgum bizarre, though he had no idea what this "dadgum" concept might involve. Mot told Mr. Belly, "my American friend, I do not understand an outhouse that rolls and runs by burning manure. I think I do not understand America."

Mr. Belly became expansive. Or perhaps he was as baffled by his current situation as Mot. Or maybe it was the three apple pies he had just eaten. For whatever reason, Mr. Belly was suddenly focused on addressing Mot's question even more than on his next fudding endeavor. He began to explain, "see, Buford is a little belly Belly. It ain't his fault, but he just never could make a decent belly. Some Bellys is like that, and they got to do them sorry jobs. I know it ain't fair, but dadgum it, you got to have a big belly if you're gonna work in fud. You just can't tote pigs and steers and hay bales and what not if you little and can't grow a big belly."

Mot asked, "what are the sorry jobs?" Mr. Belly answered, "oh, like teachin' school and doctorin' and inventin' and preachin'. Jobs that make you stay inside all the time, and away from fud. Turrible way to have to live, but dadgum it, if you ain't got the belly, Bellys have to do that mess. That's what become a Buford. He's a studyin' inventin' over with them Aggies. It was him and them Aggies that come up with the Patty Burner. I know he'd a never started runnin' with that kind a crowd of he'd had a decent belly, but dadgum it, that's just how it happened."

Mot said, "in Georgia, farming is considered the worst job you can have."

Mr. Belly replied, "well shore, that's how them commanists are. That's why they always storvin'"

Mot though "amazing! Farmer is king!" Now, if only he could understand how dadgum fits into this plan.

The Brit tried to gently enter the conversation - "so you're saying that this fascinating Patty Burner burns only swine manure that contains the remnants of Moon Pie?"

Mr. Belly said nothing.

Mot said, "that's right, Frog." Chapter 35

Mr. Belly said, "oh sure, I done me some spyin'. Now looky here, if you gonna sit up here you gonna have to make dadgum sure you don't sit on the fud. See - you got your dadgum foot a restin' on the dadgum Moon Pies! Dadgum, I done eat that mess a melted one. I don't want ta start eatin' crumbled ones now, Frog. Caint' you see?"

Fogg said, "very well, chap. Now, tell me about your spying."

Mr. Belly replied, "well, I traveled 'round among them Yankees for a good long while with Dickie, doin' what I was told to for the country."

Fogg said, "Dickie?"

Mr. Belly said, "yes, you know, one a them fellers what was livin' in a big white house out there in the far east."

Fogg was baffled. A Far Eastern spy plot involving Yankees and white houses? This Belly character may be someone to reckon with. And why is he telling me all of these details. Has he decided to ternminate me? The thought of being sat on by the huge Mr. Belly made Fogg momentarily shudder. He decided it would be a good idea to change the subject for the moment.

"So tell me," said Fogg, "what was your grandmother's involvement with this Texaco?"

Mr. Belly finished his Moon Pie before speaking. His box of Moon Pies, that is. Then he said, "out here's where she was borned. Purty ain't it? I always liked comin' out here ta visit with grandma and her folks.

"Grandma Maria had it purty hard. See, she just couldn't grow a big belly. She'd eat as much as any Belly you ever saw, but she always stayed little. Dadgum shame. And after she married into the family, little Bellys started showin' up. For the longest time, grandpa treated 'em just like any other Bellys and put 'em to fudin' and farmin'. Grandma finally told him it was time to stop pertendin' that them little Bellys was the same as regular Bellys, and that the little ones was gonna have to start doin' them sorry jobs, dadgum it, 'cause they just wadn't fittin' in doin' fud work."

Fogg realized that his several professions must all be included in the "sorry jobs" of the Belly lexicon. He was curious about what other might qualify. He asked, "what are some of the sorry jobs Bellys have had to enter?"

Mr. Belly said, "well, uncle Beaudeaux got in with the wrong crowd and wound up out there in the New Mexico workin' on that dadgum atom bomb. Aunt Bonnie was real slow - couldn't never learn nothin' 'bout fudin' no matter how hard grandma and grandpa tried to teach her. She wound up teachin' them dadgum Aggies most of her life. Dadgum perfesser. If that ain't flat out sad I don't know what is. And then, we don't like to talk 'bout it, but they ain't no denyin' that uncle Bradly become a...." Tears began seep from Mr. Belly's eyes as he forced himself to describe uncle Bradley's sorry job - ..."a dadgum...lawyer! Dadgum, it just breaks my heart. So far, ever dadgum Belly what's come along with no GOB [Gift Of the Belly] had wound up gettin' mixed up with the wrong kind. I jist don't know what to do 'bout it though. Do you, Frog?"

*********

Your ON (Omniscient Narrator) here. How did Fogg find out about DB's spying? How does anyone find out about anything these days? He went on the internet. At one of DB's frequent restaurant stops he asked the propietor if he could borrow a phone jack for his laptop. Fogg was able to "borrow" it for twenty-five dollars. After connecting to AOL (this was the summer of 2002 and AOL had not yet gone bankrupt and out of business), he went to the following website: www.geocities.com/texalina (prounounced texalina) and read about the Adventures of Deep Belly written by Texas Tom (son of Troubador Tom), a drinking and eating companion of Deep Belly back in the Pay (yourself first) Nineties.

Chapter 36

For some reason Chompy didn't understand, the rolling outhouse was running like, well, an outhouse. It had almost no pick up and very little go. Everyone (except Enrique who seemed to be practicing some form of medicated meditation) was having regular bowel movements. So fuel wasn't a problem, or was it?

It had been a long day. According to the outhouse odometer they had only made about twelve miles in twelve hours. Everyone (with the exception of Enrique who appeared to be rehearsing for the role of Rip Van Winkle in the summer production at the Dime Box Theatre) was starting to get edgy so Chompy thought some more stories about DB might be calming to the nerves.

"DB's been shot forty-two times," Chompy said.

Chunky who had been shot at a few times himself looked quietly into the heavens for a moment and then asked, "Where at?"

"Most times in the belly because it's the biggest target and you tend to lose sight of everything else. A couple times to the head and lots of times to the heart."

"Why didn't he die?" Maria asked with a sincere level of concern in her voice.

"Bellys don't usually die unless you hit them square in the heart. Their bellies are so thick average bullets are stopped before they reach any vital organs and shots to the brain have little or no effect on their IQs."

"But you said DB was shot in the heart many times. Why didn't he die those times?"

Chompy had been waiting for this question, "The bullets never actually reached the heart. They were stopped by DB's wullet."

Chunky and Maria both blurted out at the same time, "What's a wullet?"

**********

Dickie arrived in Brownsville on a balmy early November evening. He had had to go back to triangulating when his latest line of men's pants had failed to make headway in competition against Wal-Mart. Damn, he said to himself, I thought triangulating was a thing of the past.

But who was he fooling? As long as there were people like Bill Clinton and Deep Belly in the world, the only way to get things done was the way that he had invented. Curse his genius!

Dickie rented a car, a 2001 Geo (with tires made especially for Mexican highways) at the airport, and immediately left Brownsville and crossed the border. The latest reports from Lance Straightpoint, P.I., had placed DB and his entourage about 60 miles south of Laredo at a Mexican cafe, La Meat of the Steer.

Catching up with DB would be easy. All Dickie had to do was to drive without stopping. But then would come the hard part.

**********

Your ON here. Who is Deep Belly? What makes him tick? What are his motivations? What are his fears? His whole world would seem to be centered around food or fud as he calls it. But is there more to DB or is that all that he is?

He would like it to be more. DB is not one of those fat people who are ashamed of their avoirdupois. He doesn't hide in the shadows or wear long raincoats and caps pulled down to his eyebrows. He doesn't own a pair of sunglasses. No, DB is proud of his weight. All the Bellys are. They get upset when their weight drops or stays the same. When JB (Jelly Belly) dropped to 285 back in 1999, the whole Belly clan acted like there was a death in the family.

Let's face it. Fat is under attack in America. Next thing you know there'll be No Fat People Sections in restaurants. Fat discrimination abounds all over the country. The airlines are only the latest example of the biases and prejudices that fat people face.

Deep Belly and the Belly clan of Dime Box, Texas are heroes for many people in this country. That's why their story needs to be told.

Chapter 37

For dramatic effect, Chompy pretended he didn't hear the question. Then he started laughing when Maria and Chunky started getting agitated. That meant they really wanted to know what a wullet was, and temporarily at least, their minds were off the day's troubles.

"The wullet was invented by Sloppy Sam of North Galbutt, South Carolina. For fat people it's a good thing. For really fat people like the Bellys it's a gift from heaven. It made a lot of folks in Dime Box forget who Thomas Edison was?"

Maria asked, "Who is this Thomas Edison?"

"Never mind," Chompy replied, "it's time I read some passages to you from Sloppy's autobiography, 'Pigs Are People Too (But That Doesn't Mean You Can't Eat Em)'. Here goes."