Souee Generis

Back to Souee Generis -Echoes of the Worst Novel Ever, Part 1

Souee Generis - Echoes of The Worst Novel Ever, Part 2

Chapter 49

Suggestions received from WNE consumers about what Mr. Country meant when he uttered “peach pit”:

“He was talking about his favorite childhood toy. A real nice rock is what I’m thinking.”

- Bobby Don Bodine, College Station, TX

“No! He was saying that the sorry music was the pits, and that there’s a connection with Georgia.”

- Franklin Beaudreaux Bodine, Savannah, GA

“Hell, no! What he said was ‘peace it,’ meaning, in Mr. Country lingo, to stop the dadgum music.”

- Darlene Hobbs, Omaha, NE

“PEACH PIT” actually represents: ‘Pass Every Alternative Civilization Highway – Pay In Time.’ What Mr. Country is telling us is to stick to The Road To San Manse, taking no tempting detours, even though the journey will be hard and long.”

- Wilfred T. Fogg, San Manse, Mexico

Chapter 50

When Acapulco finished singing, Country groaned and opened his eyes. When he saw Acaculpo he fell back into a coma.

Acapulco spoke to Maria, "Your destiny is not here in San Joe'. It already has a great female leader. "

Maria looked puzzled then asked, "Where should I go?"

Acapulco was already beginning to fade away, "The training loci for all female leaders of the Sans movement."

"And where would that be?"

Maria could barely hear Acapulco's voice. Did he say - "San Wo-manse' ?"

+++

Phil Donohue introduced his next guest:

Donohue: Joining us now is my friend Ralph Nader, to discuss his new book: Unsafe At Any Time: The Outlandish Dangers Of Outhouses. Welcome, Ralph.

Nader: Thank you, Phil.

Donohue: This is a very timely book. To the surprise of everyone, Al Gore is attracting a lot of support. Even more surprising, he’s becoming popular by advocating the legalization of outdoor restrooms. What’s going on?

Nader: Simple. Gore’s doing the bidding of multinational insurance corporations. You see, Phil, if you have an accident in a conventional indoor bathroom, your homeowner’s policy covers it. Go outside to a separate structure far from your house, and it probably is not covered. Here’s what makes that critically important. People spend 6 per cent of their lives in bathrooms. Yet, 12 per cent of all home accidents occur in bathrooms. Eliminate coverage for those accidents, and insurance companies get even richer than they are today. That’s what’s behind Gore’s conversion to outdoor restrooms.

Donohue: So you’re saying that Gore doesn’t really believe in the environmental advantages of using outdoor restrooms?

Nader: It doesn’t matter what he believes. You know Gore – he changes what he believes quicker than he changes earth tone suits. He knows this will get him campaign money because powerful corporations like the idea. It’s as simple as that.

Donohue: What corporations?

Nader: Multinational insurance corporations. Uni-national corporations. Non-national corporations. Extraterrestrial corporations. Corporations, Phil! Greedy, corrupt, untrustworthy corporations. Make no mistake, this is a terrible injustice being plotted by Gore and his rich friends. It must be stopped.

Chapter 51

The SET (Sloppy Educational Tape) finally came to an end. It had run for five hours. Lance woke up with a start. He was going have to market the SETs one day as a remedy for insomnia. Scuttlebutt around North Galbutt had it that Sloppy went to Cuba back in the sixties and instructed Castro on the art of oration.

Many readers have written in and asked where North Galbutt is and how it got its name. North Galbutt is in the midlands of South Carolina. The soil is sandy and pine trees proliferate. The name came one day when a lady left Sloppy's restaurant. She had almost singlehandedly closed down the all you can eat bar. Sloppy remarked as she walked away, "That gal's butt is so big you can only see the north end of it." The name stuck.

Lance poured a cup of coffee from his Sam Spade thermos and looked out the truck window. There were no signs of the Skinny Ones. The Belly Action Response Team (BARF) were getting their rolling outhouses ready to move out. All seemed right with the world. Then he spotted Maria pacing back and forth on the raised platform. Oh my God, was that Country lying unconscious on the stage?

+++

La-Pau came out of her meditation. She asked Maria, "Wanna a beer?"

"Sure. What you drinking?"

"Old Milwaukee. San Joe' adopted it last year as its official beer."

Maria took a sip, "Smooth as water. In fact, that's what it taste like."

La-Pau agreed, "That's why we like it. Beer for the average Joe."

Just then Lance drove up. La-Pau tossed him a beer, "What's happening, Lance?"

"Oh, hi, HHD, I just singlehandedly broke the back of the Skinny Ones assault."

"Which SET did you use?"

"The Whurt."

La-Pau grinned, "Ouch, you showed no mercy."

They all laughed and had another Old Milwaukee.

Chapter 52

"Let's say no more books will be written after the year 1999. Will anyone miss books that were never written?"

- Y. B. Commandanche, "The Philosophical Implications of PPU", Texalina Press, 1972

+++

Maria finished off her third Old Mil. She asked Lance, "Do you know the way to San Wo-Manse?"

"I think so," replied Lance, "it's in the Baja, isn't it?" Lance looked over La-Pau.

"It was." La-Pau was working on her fourth OM.

"Say what? Do you mean they moved it again?" Lance spat. Something squirmy had been in his last gulp.

"Yes, it is now near Nashville."

Lance thought for a moment, "Hey, that might work. You know Nashville is my third home (after North Galbutt and Las Vegas), and though it's full of musical thieves, I'll take it anyway, whether it's right or wrong." Lance wondered how close he was to the original lyrics.

"What about Country?" Maria pondered.

"We'll take Country with us. Being close to the home of country music might bring him out of his coma. Then again it might deepen it. Well, it's a chance we'll have to take."

Chapter 53

Mosath Eyskin slumped in a chair across the desk of sports psychologist Bernie Brownstein:

Bernie: So, what’s up, Mosath?

Mosath: I’m still in the slump – the DLS thing.

Bernie: Tell me about it.

Mosath: Can’t get past the last game. I had a plan, a good one. I was set to blow up 12-packs of Budweiser all over the place, force the stock price of Anheuser-Busch down, and make a lot of money on a short sell. I’d gotten past the collateral damage thing you helped me with, focusing only on the score. I was psyched. Next thing you know, I blew up my own building. Complete screw-up. An embarrassment to bad guys everywhere. Since then, I haven’t been able to get into it. Not the evil part or the genius part. Major slump, Doc.

Bernie: Have you tried a rehab assignment yet?

Mosath: Oh yes. Just finished a project with Al Gore, getting him involved with outhousing…

Bernie: That was you?! Hey, that’s been working!

Mosath: Well, sure, for Gore, I guess. All he’s after is attention, though. No help at all with anything else. Not much bad guy material there, not even a respectable pawn. What the heck was I thinking?

Bernie: I see what you mean.

Mosath: You know, Bernie, I can’t even get the visualization thing to work anymore. I’ll try envisioning a major win – death and destruction all around – but the next thing you know, I’m seeing myself on the beach, drinking Shiner and eating melted Moon Pies. It’s driving me nuts!

Bernie: Well, maybe it’s time for a career change. Ever think about coaching?

Mosath: That looks too tough to me. Too hard to find talent. You know this business, Doc, get hooked up with a bad performer, and all of a sudden you’re in a witness protection program.

Bernie: Broadcasting?

Mosath: Broadcasting?

Bernie: Sure. A lot of guys have gone that route. Look at Geraldo. He’s a DLSer. Never made it out of the minors. Bad bad guy fundamentals. He’s sure done some bad TV, though.

Mosath: Darn. You think I could do that sort of bad well?

Bernie: Don’t ask me! Ask yourself. Like I keep telling you, think bad, see bad, hear bad. And then your bad will come to you.

+++

Beulah Faye Ledbetter soon landed Mosath Eyskin a job at a small radio station just outside Nashville. To his surprise, he was going on the air for the first time:

“Howdy, folks. This is Mosath Eyskin. ME, in other words. Welcome to my show, ‘Bad Commentary.’ What I’ll try to do here is misrepresent the misrepresentations of public figures, mainly politicians. Got it?

Let’s start this off with George Bush and Iraq. The left-wingers say Bush wants to blow up the world. The right-wingers say he’s got to take out Saddam Hussein to save the world. Here’s what ME says.

The ‘axis of evil’ Bush talks about runs from the Texas Rangers’ bullpen to Bud Selig’s brain. Not a pretty place. Bush’s favorite sports team is losing in spectacular fashion. And if it hadn’t been for Selig, Bush would be baseball commissioner now. When he couldn’t get that, he settled for governor of Texas. Then the president thing came up. But in his mind, Bush knows that if he were commissioner, the Rangers would have a decent team and no one would be talking about a strike. Don’t ask me how I know that he knows that. Stating things like that with no evidence at all is just a part of what I do here, OK?

Anyway, here’s the deal. If baseball goes on strike, Saddam’s a dead man. Bush won’t be occupied watching the Rangers lose every night, and he’ll be mad at Selig for screwing up a game he knows would be in great shape if he’d become commissioner instead of governor and president. And he knows those jobs are real pains. So he’s going to be really ticked off by a strike, OK? And then he’s gong to strike Iraq. Got it?

Chapter 54

"Daddy didn't know much. But he knew enough."

- Cornwallis Commandanche (son of Y.B.), "Growing Up Ignorant (And Proud of It)", Texalina Press, 1987.

+++

Maria burped contentedly. That was the best beer she had in three years. This Old Milwaukee must be pretty expensive.

Lance spoke to Maria, "You can follow me in Country's truck to San Wo-manse'. Nashville just happens to be on my way back to North Galbutt."

"How about Country?"

"We'll lay him on the cot in the back of the Isuzu and place his old guitar beside him. The sleep and rest (via the coma) will probably do him good. He's been driving himself pretty hard the last few years."

"How about Peach Pit? Any clue what it means?" Maria was already checking the oil and water in Country's truck.

"With Country you can never be too sure. Your guess is as good as mine. I will say this though. They do grow a lot of peaches around North Galbutt."

Maria could've used one more Old Milwaukee, but since she would be driving soon, she decided against it.

"Do you think Country will come out of the coma?"

Lance paused reflectively, then said, "I don't know, but in moments in the plot like this you want to find something positive to cling to."

"That's a good philosophy."

"It has its detractors."

+++

La-Pau wished Lance and Maria a safe journey and invited them to the Year 2000 Decadian celebrations.

"But it's 2002."

"So we'll see you in a couple of years."

Chapter 55

"Good and Evil are irrelevant. One devours the other."

- Y. B. Commandanche, "The Dark Side of PPU", Texalina Press, 1939

+++

Bubba always enjoyed the view from his high rise New York City office.

"Does anybody know where ole Al is?"

A trusted aide responded, "Last report had him in San Joe', New Mexico making a speech supporting the outhouse movement."

Bubba puffed on his Havana cigar. "What kind of response did he get?"

Another trusted aide responded. This one had long legs and long blonde hair. "Surprisingly enthusiastic. Of course, he was singing to the choir."

Bubba laughed. But then he turned somber. His aide knew he was serious because his lips were pursed and his brow wrinkled.

"Ole Al may be on to something with this outhouse thing. For his own good and the country's we can't allow him to be too successful. Better keep an eye on him....Lucy."

"Yes, Sir."

+++

Billy Bob knew the joy of living and teaching others the joy of giving. He himself had a lot to give, and he wondered why he wasn't playing a more prominent part in the novel. It needed a shot in the arm. How about working with Al Gore. They'd make a great team!....

Chapter 56

Sloppy's Just About All You Can Eat Bar-b-que Restaurant (he added the 'Just About' after the before mentioned lady had almost wiped him out of business) was on the corner of Highway 1-A and Peach Pit Road in North Galbutt. He was serving up a load of hash when his cell phone beeped:

"Sloppy's. If you want to eat it we got it."

"Sloppy, it's Lance."

"Howdy, Lance, what's cooking?" Sloppy added some cole slaw and hush puppies to the customer's paper plate.

"Do you know why San Wo-Manse' was moved to Nashville?"

"Yep, one word. Tipper." Sloppy started serving another customer.

Lance was somewhat startled. "You mean Tipper Gore? Al's wife?"

"That's right. The SFC (Sans Feminine-side Council) wanted to start a leadership school for its females. They knew Tipper was the right person for the job but she refused to move, so they moved."

Lance was aghast, "Why Tipper?"

Sloppy said, "Wait a sec, Lance. Got a little problem. Be right back." Sloppy walked over to a table where some teenagers were laughing and giggling. Lance admonished them that youth was a time for eating not having fun. The teenagers said thanks for the advice and started eating.

Sloppy continued, "Tipper has every quality that we want in a Sans female leader. Number One: She can kiss a man with wooden lips; Number Two: She can kiss up to a snotty woman like Hillary and then whisper rumors about her behind her back; Number Three: She don't mind eating; and Number Four: She looks good in an apron. If that ain't female leadership I don't what is."

Lance wondered what Maria would think about it, then said, "Gotta go, Slop."

"When you plan to get back to North Galbutt?"

"I don't know exactly. Have to see how things work out in Nashville."

"Well, say hello to Texas Tom."

"Texas Tom?"

"Yep, he's playing nightly at the Ernest Tubb Record Shop."

+++

Texas Tom began his evening set at the Earnest Tubb Record Shop, the old one on Broadway in Nashville: “Folks, we’re gonna start off with an update on one of ET’s great numbers. You all sing along if you want to, but for ET's sake, don’t let that beer get warm.” Then, he began to sing:

You left me and you went away

Said you had to try the inhouse way

I don’t know where that came from, I don’t know what went wrong

But I do know that I’ve missed you since I noticed that you’ve gone

I’m walkin’ the outhouse floor over you

Can’t hardly breathe, that is true

I’m dodgin’ flies and roaches, bats and rodents too

Walkin’ the outhouse floor over you

Now someday you’ll want to outhouse too

'Cause walkin’ the inhouse floor ain’t good for you

You’ll run into the sink and get a shock from your hair dryer

Then fall and break a leg while the house catches on fire

I’m walkin’ the outhouse floor over you

Can’t hardly breathe, that is true

I’m dodgin’ flies and roaches, bats and rodents too

Walkin’ the outhouse floor over you

+++

Billy Bob Ledbetter spoke via phone with his half-sister Beulah Faye:

Billy Bob: Dadgum, Beulah Faye, I’m sure not getting much ink in this dadgum book. Couldn’t you get me some chapters?.

Beulah: Not a good idea. You’re overexposed as it is.

Billy Bob: Dadgum it, Beulah Faye, I ain’t had no troubles with indecent exposure for months..

Beulah: Not that type of exposure! Dadgum it, you’ve been getting too much press. You need to lie low for a while.

Billy Bob: Is that a new kind of lyin’ that I ain’t learned? Shoot, I thought we covered ‘em all at preachin’ school.

Beulah: Billy Bob, just tend to your business for a while, OK? I’ll let you know when you need some more publicity.

Billy Bob: Well, you just remember that I’m ready to go whenever.

Beulah: I’ll keep it in mind, half-brother.

Chapter 57

Texas Tom put his guitar down and spoke to the audience at the Earnest Tubb Record Shop, the old one on Broadway in Nashville, “folks, I know a lot of folks has been wonderin’, other folks and maybe some you folks too, folks, lots a folks, they’ve been wonderin’, why the hell is it that sometimes bad things happen to good songs? Bad things like the likes of Celine Dion and Jim Nabors sangin’ the great songs of Mr. Country. Well, it’s a mystery. The good thing is that bad records that get good sales make for good songwritin’ royalties, and that’s good. The bad thing is that bad sangin’ is hard to listen at, and that’s bad.

“But you know what, if the good Lord could use a dadgum ass to spread the good word, I reckon it’s not so dadgum bad to hear the likes of Jim Nabors sangin’ at a Mr. Country song. Dadgum it, sangin’ asses has got they freedom of expression too! It’s in the amendments! The first one, twenty-first, whatever the hell amendment. One of those dadgum amendments, ain’t it? And that there’s a good thang! ‘Specially if it means big royalty checks. Folks, that there’s always a good thang.

“Well, in honor of talkin’ asses everywhere, here’s a little tune.” Then he began to sing:

From the mouth of an ass came salvation for Balaam

Who the hell was ol’ Balaam? It don’t matter now

What matters is this – the words were all spoken

Sure, the ass had a lisp, but it don’t matter now

Let them asses talk free,

Let them asses talk long

But make them asses pay up,

When they borrow a song

Now, there’s asses all around, and some go to talkin’

And some like to sing, even good dadgum songs

Should we make ‘em shut up? Tell ‘em all go to hell?

Goodness no, goodness no, not unless they don’t sell.

Let them asses talk free,

Let them asses talk long

But make them asses pay up,

When they borrow a song

+++

Texas Tom (TT) spotted Lance clapping over by the 45s section. He walked over to say hello. "Hey, Lance, long time, no see." They shook hands. TT continued, "Well, who's the pretty little senorita you got with you?"

Lance took his time to respond, then sang a couple of lines from an old TT song: "Now, girl, you know there's a big difference in our ages If this was a novel, it'd be about a thousand pages" TT laughed loud and long. "You're right, Lance, I'm getting to old to chase young girls."

Maria spoke up, "I can speak for myself. I'm flattered that you find me pretty, Mr. Texas."

"Thank you, Honey. What brings you here?"

"Your brother, Acapulco, said it was my destiny."

TT's eyebrows shot up, "Is that old coot still alive? I thought he died on a fishing expedition to Iraq."

Lance inserted, "Oh, he's alive alright. Still up to his old tricks. Pretending he's a ghost and every once in a while still singing without music."

TT guffawed, "Darn, that brother of mine. You'd think he'd settle down and do something respectable."

They continued talking and Maria asked if the ET Record Shop served Old Milwaukee.

Chapter 58

Lance and Maria were working on Old Milwaukee. TT had his usual Wild Turkey.

Lance spoke, "That was a nice tribute you paid to Country."

"Thanks, where is the ole SOB?"

"He's in a coma laying in the back of his truck."

TT took a sip. "What caused it?"

"Celine Dion."

"I understand. She almost did me in last year when she covered 'Another Cold Soldier'. I still shudder every time I think about it."

Lance opened another can of OM. "Got a favor to ask you, TT"

"What would that be?" TT eyed Lance suspiciously.

"Well, I need to get back to North Galbutt. Sloppy's got me scheduled for a pig run to Moncks Corner. And Maria here is scheduled to enroll at the Tipper Training Institute (TTI) in San Wo-Manse'. I was wonderin' if we could put Country back in the storage room until he regains consciousness."

This time TT took more than a sip. "Now that's a tall order, Lance. Country's been known to make some strange noises in his sleep."

"He's in a deep coma. You shouldn't hear a peep out of him."

"Well, since you put that way, why not?"

Chapter 59

Maria said to Texas Tom, “Senor Tom de Tejas, I have felt music within my soul. Melodies and sometimes words. Synthesized trombone sounds on occasion. Please tell me the secrets of effective musical communications that transmit truth and promote conspicuous consumption.”

Texas Tom replied, “well, darlin’, they call it show bidness for a reason. For gal singers, that means show a little thigh. Not too dadgum much, understand, but just enough. For feller singers, it starts with the hat. It’s got to be just right, especially if they ain’t no hair growin’ under it. And keep that sucker in place, dadgum it. The next rule for feller singers is a pair a socks in the crotch. Not athletic socks, dadgum it! That’s overdoin’ it. A nice pair a medium dress socks, that there’s the rule ever since Conway wrote it. 55 number one records says he knew his socks, dadgum it.

“Anyway, the first thang you need to thank ‘bout is wardrobe. Sangin’ comes later on. If it needs a little help, that’s what recordin’ machines is for. Git yourself a fashion consultant first, see, git the thigh just right, and you just never know what might happen. Sure looks like you got yourself some thighs that’ll sell too, little lady.”

Maria said, “gracias very much! I have long felt music coursing through my thighs! Especially when I think of an earnest pursuit of conspicuous consumption and communicating universal truths with many recorded disks that hit.”

+++

Two days later, Maria was attracting attention on Music Row. Performing at the Earnest Tubb Record Shop, the old one on Broadway, and at Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, the old and only one, on Broadway, she had become known for her "Shania-grade thighs" and her singing talents. She was calling herself ¡Maria!, and performing songs in English and Spanish, though never at the same time. Recognizing a winning trend when she saw one, ¡Maria!, selected a Mr. Country song for her first demo. She performed it publicly for the first time at the Earnest Tubb Record Shop, the old one on Broadway:

EL EXTREMO OSCURO DE LA CALLE (The Dark End Of the Street)

Usted le pensó sabía cómo al negogiate las trampas tortuous de la vida y de alguna manera mantiene las luces encendidas contra la noche de usurpación

Los padres y los hermanos/las hermanas y las madres son usted wonderin ' donde usted le comerá después ha estado optioned/sin la adopción ahora que usted está en el extremo oscuro de la calle

Los bárbaros han alcanzado la puerta que están hablando en lengüetas extranjeras no tienen ningún respecto por sus costumbres y las canciones usted ha cantado siempre

Los niños y los minotaurs/los doctores y los senadores porqué no lo hace usted genuflexión y lavarse los pies usted han sido muddied/usted se han estudiado ahora le están en el extremo oscuro de la calle

Las voces solas han estado gritando en el desierto y el yermo que están buscando la recompensa para este lío social y económico

Los estudiantes y los profesores/los sinners y los predicadores es tiempo que usted finalmente admitió derrota en su creencia/usted ahora le ha estado engañando está en el extremo oscuro de la calle Ahora usted está en el extremo oscuro de la calle.

Chapter 60

Maria was ecstatic about the things she was learning at TTI. She thought to herself, “how wonderful are the ways of liberales de la limousine! Conspicuous consumption mixed with just the correct increments of conspicuous pretension!”

Also finding success with thigh and music showings nightly in Nashville, Maria felt that she had at last found herself, not having realized beforehand that she had been lost. “It must have happened during my Rolling Outhouse journey,” thought Maria.

When word came to TTI that Maria was becoming ¡Maria!, Tipper asked Maria to drop the exclamation marks and accompany her to her office.

Tipper said, “Maria, are you happy here at TTI?” Maria said, “oh si! Yes, many yeses! I love this wonderful institution. I had no idea all these years that I belonged in just such a wonderful place.” Tipper then said, “well, some of us are becoming a little concerned about your musical activities.” Maria replied, “I am so sorry, Senora Tipper! I did not neglect inviting you to witness my performances with the intention of being neglectful, but simply because I neglected. I can see in retrospect that I became trapped in ‘Having It All Syndrome.’ Oh well, as we say, ‘get over it.’"

Tipper then said, “listen, Maria, making music in proletariat venues is just not something we do at TTI. It’s exploitative, you see. Exploitative in an unacceptable way. There are proper ways to exploit, but the way you have chosen is not one of them.”

Maria said, “I am not certain that I will pronounce this term correctly. If not, I will work on it this evening after my thigh and singing exhibitions. As I understand the phonetic characteristics of the term, though ‘bullshit.’ As empowered American woman, Central American as it happens, I reject bourgeois, patriarchal repression of my empowerment. And, as protected minority person of undefined but politically viable victimization, I choose to continue discipleship at TTI as well as thigh and singing exhibitions nightly. Do I have all this in correct understandings?”

Tipper said, “dadgum. I guess so. I’ll have to look it all up. Sounds right. I’m not sure why, but somehow I like what you have to say.”

Maria said, “yes! That is right! TTI Way has converged with San Manse Way! What a wonderful Way!”

+++

It was time to say good-bye. TT agreed to park Country's Isuzu in the Opryland parking lot. They decided the best course of therapy for Country was to lay in the dark and listen 24/7 to Patsy Cline singing 'Crazy', in hope that it would bring him out of his coma. Lance would drop off Maria at the Tipper Training Institute in nearby San Wo-Manse'. There she would undergo an intense 6 month female leadership training program conducted by Tipper, Martha Stewart (if she's not in jail) and Barbra Streisand. In overall toughness, only the Parris Island Marine training base of the pre-PC 1950's compared to it. After dropping Maria off, Lance would continue to Atlanta, where he would pick up Laredo at the airport, and thence to North Galbutt to resume his important pig runs for Sloppy.

Is this the end of the story? Is it time to fade away? Or do we live to fight another day?

Good questions.

Chapter 61

"Fact and Fiction are irrelevant. They devour each other."

- Y. B. Commandanche, "The Sunny Side of PPU", Texalina Press, 1945

+++

Country's mind was gone. The coma had dampened the firing of the synapses. One (or was it two) word was repeating over and over in his what was left of his grey matter:

Peach Pit, Peach Pit, Peach Pit, Peach Pit.....

Until the circle was brokened, the coma would remain and Country would face endless days in a maze.

Somewhere in the misty mists of time, someone was singing her song.

Chapter 62

"Until they offer grits at a New York restaurant, I'll be staying right here."

- Sloppy Sam, "I AM....Sloppy Sam", Texalina Press, 19??

+++

Somewhere in the Southwest United States desert, deep within a mountain, meets the Hi (There) Council of the Sans. Their meeting is going a little bit like this (names are coded to protect the writers of this novel):

Red: Old San Manse' is in its death throes. Hurricane Hillary didn't leave too much behind.

Blue: Yes, it's obvious we need a new capitol of the Sans.

Yellow: Should we designate one of the Sans already established?

Orange: No, we should build a new and shiny one.

Purple: Where will we locate it?

Green: I own ten acres in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Georgia.

Lavender: Ooh, does it have daffodils bursting out in color on it?

Brown: Shut up, Lavender! Any suggestions for what we'll call it?

Black: There can only be one name: San New-Manse'!

Chapter 63

Texas Tom spoke via phone with Beulah Faye Ledbetter:

Beulah: Hidy, Texas. How you been?

TT: Fine. You?

Beulah: Fine. You?

TT: You missed a beat there, Beulah. Listen here, I’ve found a gal singer here in Nashville you need to know about. Could be a star.

Beulah: Dadgum. This sounds like my lucky day. You don’t hear about a new Nashville bimbo just every day.

TT: This one’s special, Beulah.

Beulah: I’ll be judge of that. You know what I want to know first, now don’t you, Texas?

TT: Great thighs. Shania-grade

Beulah: Hmm. Maybe we’ll talk. I get so dadgum tired of tellin’ folks the thighs have got to be there! Shoot, you can pad or pump the breasts, slap make-up on the face, re-record and overdub the voice and toss a wig on top. But you can’t fake thighs! Dadgum it!

TT: Well, she’s got ‘em. On top a that, she’s Mexican. She can sang in Spanish, English, Texan and honky tonk. A walkin’ U.N. is what she is. Nice voice, but not the best. Dadgumdest thighs, though.

Beulah: She gonna be in Nashville a while?

TT: I reckon.

Beulah: I’ll come take a look.

+++

August was hot in Dallas, but due to an unusual inversion in the atmosphere, not as hot as usual in the year of our Lord, 2002. Acaculpo was walking down the DFW passageway toward the Pan Am hub where he would board a 747 that would take him to New York City and where he would be re-united with his long lost daughter, EL-len. They had separated in a tiff back in 1999 when EL-len played the piano and sang at a Fort Worth nightclub. Acapulco had felt betrayed, not able to accept the fact that any child of his would sing accompanied by music. But the years had softened him, and he had moved toward conditional acceptance of merging lyrics and music.

He wondered how the visit would go...

Chapter 64

We return to the San Hi (There) Council where they are discussing the location of a new capitol of the Sans:

Ochre: What's the matter, Green? You said you had ten acres in the North Georgia mountains we could build on.

Green: I just remembered that I gave Wal-Mart first option on that particular piece of land for a new superstore.

Mauve: I buy all my clothes at Wal-Mart.

Beige: I don't see a problem. San New-Manse' and Wal-Mart should be able to co-exist. We can set up town hall in one of those open areas that run along the front. We can be between Cost Cutters and the Return Center.

Gray: I agree. Let's keep this ball rolling.

+++

Pan Am Flight 99 was over fly-over country. Acapulco was humming, trying to prepare himself for the reality of New York City. Boy, that was a big place! How could a daughter of his be living in such a place? Well, he would try to convince that her true home was...

Somewhere in Texalina

Somewhere near the border

Where all hope is lost

Where there's no law and order

You'll find a place to call your own

And a man who knows PPU

You'll marry him 'neath the desert sky

And have children who are loyal and true

Somewhere in Texalina

Somewhere outside of time

I'll stop my restless wandering

And eat grapes right off the vine

Somewhere in Texalina...

Acaculpo fell asleep. The jet continued on its way.

Chapter 65

"Taxi!" Acapulco shouted as he stood on the sidewalk on the south end of the main terminal at Idlewild Airport. It was a hot August afternoon in the city.

A yellow cab responded and Acapulco slid into the back seat. As Acapulco was giving the driver his destination, both back doors suddenly opened and in jumped two men, both of them remarkably similar to Acapulco in size and appearance.

Overcoming being momentarily stunned, Acapulco exclaimed, "Unhand me you ruffians! You're wasting your time anyway. I have nothing but the shirt on my back."

"Pulco, don't you recognize us? It's your long lost brothers, Texas and Troubador. How long has it been? Must be at least seventy years."

Acapulco didn't know what to say, but said it anyway, "How did you find me?"

Texas responded, "EL-len, your long lost daughter called me in Nashville. I called Bador, who was at Branson, and we flew in about an hour before you did."

"Why?"

Troubador answered this time, "Because she's worried about you. She says you've been playing ghost games again, and even vacillating on your commitment to singing without musical accompaniment."

Acapulco's lips trembled slightly, "But it's my life. I got a right to live it the way I see fit. Willie told me I could."

"Was Willie smoking when he you told that?"

"Yes, he said Hank would've done it thataway." Acapulco told the driver to stop. "Well, it was nice seeing you guys. Catch you again in seventy years."

"Whoa there, old fellow." Texas' grip on Acapulco's arm was gentle but firm. "We need to talk. The Tom Brothers have a lot of catching up to do..."

+++

The Tom Brothers were sitting at a coffee shop in Greenwich Village. EL-len, Acapulco's daughter, was due to sing that night at a Bohemian club that opened in the fifties and still thought it was the fifties. Troubador, a devoted pipe smoker, pulled three cigars out of his coat pocket and passed two around. "We need to talk, Pulco."

"Do we need to walk too? I'm kinda tired." Acapulco took his first puff.

Texas also took a puff then replied, "No, Sans rules don't apply in New York."

"I didn't think so, but here lately, Sans have been popping up all over the place. Anyway, what do you want to talk about it?" The waiter distributed three cups of coffee.

"It's your name, Pulco. We think you've got a misunderstanding about it." Texas took a sip of coffee, grimaced, then asked, "Where do you think it came from?"

"Mama Tom gave it to me. She said I came into the world singing but every time I heard music I started crying."

Troubador asked, "Did you know that Acapulco is a city on the west coast of Mexico?"

Acapulco snorted derisively, "Of course, but it's also Texalinian for singing without musical accompaniment."

Texas drained his cup, "Did it ever occur to you that you were called Acapulco before you ever went to Texalina? Quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

Acapulco looked puzzled, then suddenly brightened, "Not really, especially in a novel like this with an obscure, contrived plot."

Texas wouldn't be deterred, "There's a better reason, one that will surprise most of the readers."

"And what would that be?" Acapulco was beginning to lose interest.

"You were named for the town you were born in: Acapulco, Mexico!"

Chapter 66

Acapulco choked on his cigar. Trouby slapped him vigourously on the back. Acapulco managed to cry out, "What do you mean I was born in Acapulco? I'm from New Jersey!"

"No," Texas replied, "you're the product of Daddy Tom's cousin Billy Bob Ledbetter's secret assignation with a dark, Latin temptress named Lalla Gomez'."

Acapulco's mind went into a tailspin. All these years he had thought he was the son of a respected Ivy League professor and his high society wife and his life had taken the course that it had because he was rebelling against bourgeoisie values. Now it all seemed so false. He turned bitter, "Why are telling me this now, after all these years?"

Texas replied cautiously, "Because the Sans Hi (There) Council believes Billy Bob knows what Country was referring to when he uttered the word 'Peachpit' before lasping into a coma."

Acapulco, still dripping with bitterness said, "So not why ask him."

"He's refusing to cooperate until he gets a larger part in this novel. Donations are down and he's had to return one of his new caddies. Being re-united with a long lost son might soften him up."

"Why didn't he want me in the first place?"

"He thought it might hurt his ministry."

"Whatever happened to Lalla?" Acapulco was slowing regaining his equilibrium. Trouby ordered some brandy for all three.

"She later settled down with a gringo from San Antonio. I can't remember his name but I do know they had a daughter that was born in 1980."

"Do you know her name?"

"Yes, her name is ...Maria."

+++

The Tom Brothers sat in silence. They looked out the coffee shop window at the busy city street. The people were coming and going. The cars were barely moving. The air inside the coffee was heavy with drama. Troubador spoke up,

"I'm hungry! Let's blow this joint and find some place with some real food."

"I'm not hungry." Acapulco was holding his head in his hands.

Texas showed no sympathy. "Boy, I don't care who your momma or daddy was. You're still a Tom and you always will be!"

Acapulco looked up, "Dammit, you're right, Texas! Let's go find some grub."

The three brothers paid the bill and walked out into the steamy New York afternoon. They were on the prowl, hunting for food. New York restaurants, beware!

+++

"When I was young boy I refused to play football with a pigskin. Even then I knew you shouldn't treat a pig that a way."

- Sloppy Sam, "I AM...Sloppy Sam", Texalina Press, 19??

Chapter 67

The hot August afternoon turned into a sultry night. Around ten pm, after a half dozen steaks each, the Tom Boys walked into Bobby D's, the famous cafe cum night club in Greenwich Village. They reveled in the smoky atmosphere and the decadent ambience. They found a table near the stage and waited for Acapulco's daughter, EL-len to begin her performance.

As a tribute to La-Pau, they ordered Old Milwaukee all around. "How you feeling, Pulco?" Troubador said.

Acapulco rubbed his stomach, "Much better."

Just then EL-len walked on the stage. She spotted her daddy and her two uncles and waved. They waved back.

She spoke to the audience. "As many of you know, I come from a great musical tradition. My uncles are Troubador Tom and Texas Tom and my daddy is none other than Acapulco Tom." The crowd clapped, for most of them had been lucky enough to be reading this novel (and its predecessor) detailing their exploits.

She continued. "Tonight I plan to pay them tribute by singing their songs. Songs that have made their mark on American culture." She then tuned her guitar. She glanced over at Acapulco, "Sorry, Dad."

Acapulco just smiled.

+++

EL-len finished her first set with an original composition, 'Between the Moon Pie and New York City':

There’s a place that’s far from here Where nothing’s cold except the beer And people smile and stop to chat Even when you wish they wouldn’t And those people have down home ways Even when they don’t go home for days And you won’t find ‘em eatin’ bagels and knish ‘Cause their mamas said they couldn’t Between the Moon Pie and the New York City There’s a distance you can’t measure in the miles It’s bigger than a sense of place, bigger than the whole dang human race It’s the size of a case of Moon Pie smiles If you’re wonderin’ what I mean It’s because you’ve never seen What Moon Pies do to folks When they eat ‘em just right And just right gets arbitrary Sometimes a little contrary But still it won’t be right Unless it is just rightBetween the Moon Pie and the New York CityThere’s a distance you can’t measure in the miles It’s bigger than a sense of place, bigger than the whole dang human race It’s the size of a case of Moon Pie smiles

Then she took a break back stage. Acapulco took the opportunity to ask,

"Does Billy Bob know about me?"

"Yes and no." Troubador said.

"What the hell does that mean?"

As usual, Texas did the explaining, "Billy Bob knows he had a son but Daddy Tom told him the baby had been put up for adoption. Daddy Tom just never got around to telling Billy Bob that he (Daddy Tom) was the one who did the adopting."

Acapulco was starting to get riled again, "Why didn't Daddy and Mommy Tom ever tell me?"

Texas remained calm, "Because Lalla refused to give you up unless they promised never to tell you. She said she could not live with the shame of you knowing you were the result of a unmarried union. She wanted you to have the best life possible."

Acapulco mused for a moment, "Well, it was a darn good childhood, growing up around Princeton. I really did enjoy walkin' and talkin' with Uncle Albert."

"Did you ever convince him that his theory of relativity was wrong?"

"I think near the end he began to see the light."

+++

We're back at the desert mountain cave that serves as the HQ of the Sans Hi (There) Council that is still deliberating:

Blue: I like this idea of putting our new Sans capitol in a Wal-Mart SuperStore. It has great possibilities.

White: What do you mean?

Blue: Like everybody else in a sluggish economy, the Sans accounts are inching downward. No layoffs yet but who knows?

Purple: What do you have in mind?

Blue: Let's market our most lovable and intriguing characters. Posters, dolls, video games, chewing gum, rolling outhouse model kits, etc. The whole nine yards. And if Wal-Mart will sell them, we'll be sitting pretty.

Green: I like it. I'll make that part of the package when I sell Wal-Mart the ten acres.

Orange: That's well and good, but what about Country?

Green: What about him?

Orange: He's right now lying in the back storage room of the Ernest Tubb Record Shop in Nashville in a coma. My idea is to move him to the new Wal-Mart when it's ready and put him on display. We can run a two-fold contest: 1) When if ever will he come out of the coma?, and 2) What did he mean when he uttered 'Peach Pit' just before lapsing into the coma? It ought to generate a lot great publicity.

Grey: I like it. Let's keep this ball rolling.

Chapter 68

EL-len finished her set and came down and sat with her dad and two uncles. Troubador asked, "What you're drinking?"

"Old Milwaukee." EL-len replied.

"Good choice."

EL-len looked over at her dad, Acapulco, "I appreciate you coming. I know the combination of music and lyrics can be tough on you."

Acapulco nodded, "It's really OK. I fortified myself with beefsteak before coming over. It seemed to do the trick."

"I'm glad." EL-len turned to Texas and Troubador, "What brings you two old coots up to Yankee Land?"

"To see you of course, and also Acapulco. It's been too long a time." Texas said.

Just then the next act was announced. It was Cher singing an old Country tune, "Lay it on me, Amos, Lay it on me".

Troubador said, "I think it's time to go."

+++

It was two am in Greenwich Village. They were standing on the sidewalk, realizing it was time to say goodbye.

Acapulco spoke first, "Well, EL-len, my long lost daughter, that was fun. Next time though, let us know who's singing after you."

"Yes, that was a close one. Do you think Country will be mad?" EL-len said.

Texas responded, "Oh, you haven't heard? Country's in a coma. He lasped into at San Joe' a while back and has been in it ever since. By the way, does 'Peach Pit' mean anything to you?"

EL-len paused briefly, then said, "Why, yes it does. Peach Pit was the name of my pony when I was a little girl. Don't you remember, Dad?"

Acapulco hesitated, "No, I don't. That must have been when I was with the Beach Boys trying to convince them to get rid of their musical instruments."

Texas, knowing this might the clue they were looking for, interjected, "EL-len, can you remember where the pony came from?"

"Oh, sure, Mr. Billy Bob Ledbetter gave it to me."

There was silence all around.

Chapter 69

That settled it for Acapulco. Billy Bob had known all along. How had he found out? Had Lalla told him? Acapulco could no longer deny his heritage. He had to confront it head on.

EL-len had gone home to get some sleep. She was working as a waitress in the daytime until she got a recording contract. Acapulco was glad that they had reconciled but he wasn't ready to tell her everything. Not yet, not at least until he knew the whole story himself.

Troubador spoke, "Where you guys headed?"

"I'm going back to Nashville to check on Country. How about you, Trouby?"

"I'll be in New York for a while. I'm filling for Regis next week while he's on vacation."

Texas turned to Acapulco who had been quiet and lost in thought, "How about you, Pulco?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm going back to Texas."

"Anywhere particular?"

"San Antonio."

They shook hands and went their separate ways.

+++

In the Sixth epoch of the Decadent hegemony, there will come a stranger on a pony. He will ride into the land, claiming kingship. His hands will be open and they will not close until they are full of filthy lucre. He will promise enlightenment, and say that the path to wisdom is easy and free of thorns. His minions will fall at his feet and will worship him. He will throw them remnants of remnants, remains of remains, refuge of refuge. They will accept these paltry renumerations as if they were gold from heaven. He will leave as he came - only richer.

-From the narrative prose poem "The Legend of Billy Bob", Acapulco Tom, Texalina Press (publishing date unknown)

Chapter 70

Acapulco hadn't been in San Antonio in over ten years. It still seemed pretty much the same though bigger. His first stop, as always, was to pay homage at the Alamo. He understand how the Texans lost the first time, but he still couldn't understand how when John Wayne had a chance to re-fight it, they lost again.

Oh, well, Kay Sarah, Kay Sarah.

At the airport, he had found an internet chat room, and downloaded, then printed the list of every woman in San Antonio with the first name Lalla. Luckily, only one woman had the name: Lalla G. Greenstreet. She lived on 123 Davy Crockett Avenue, which luckily again, was not far from the Alamo.

He started walking and in about twenty minutes was knocking on the front door. An elderly, Hispanic lady dressed in red and green answered, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Acapulco Tom."

The lady began crying.

Editor's note: San Antonio is not one of the "Sans". Many are so called, but only a few (well, maybe more than a few) are chosen.

+++

"How did you find me?" Lalla was standing by the living room window looking out on Davy Crockett Avenue. She was no longer crying. Now she just looked sad and tired.

"Texas told me you were living in San Antonio. When I got here I just used the detective skills I learned at the Straightpoint P.I. Academy." Without being asked, Lance sat down on the couch. It was the color of sand.

"I suppose you hate me." Lalla turned suddenly and faced Acapulco.

"Hate is too strong a word. Right now I'm just confused." Lance wondered if there were musical instruments in the house.

"I did what I thought was best for you. I've never regretted it. Would you like something to drink?"

"Do you have Old Milwaukee? I've acquired a taste for it lately." When Lalla got back with the beer, Lance said, "I understand I have a sister."

"You mean Maria?"

"Of course, are there others?"

"No, it's just that I haven't seen her in over three years. She was last reported to be stuck in a flying outhouse with two old geezers and an ass." Lalla took a sip of her beer. She was drinking Shiner.

"She finally escaped and is now enrolled at the Tipper Training Institute in Nashville."

"Why?"

"She's learning to be a female leader of the Sans."

"She always was a bright girl."

Acapulco could wait no longer, "Does the term 'Peach Pit' mean anything to you?"

Lalla almost feinted. Her beer dropped to the floor. Luckily the can was empty.

"Where did you hear that term?"

"Country spoke it just before he went into a coma."

Lalla said nothing for a while, then finally said,

"You must go to Billy Bob."

Chapter 71

After a mandatory "fud" break, the Sans Hi (There) Council continues its executive session:

Orange: As usual, eating has been inspirational. By the way, that new variety of moon pie was absolutely divine. What's it called?

Purple: You won't believe it, but it came from Yankeeland. It's called "Between the Moon Pie and New York City."

Orange: Wow! What was that delicious crunchy texture I tasted?

Purple: New York Deep Dish Pizza.

Orange: Who'd ever thought pizza would go so good with chocolate, marshmellows, and graham crackers.

Cerise: I think it's apt what La-Pau once said and I quote verbatim, "The moon pie has an universal flexibility that gives it the power to transcend ordinary couplings of food and drink."

Sienna: I think that hits the nail on the head.

Blue: Let's get back to the business at hand. Orange, you said the "fud" break was inspirational. What did you mean?

Orange: I think we need to think even bigger about our joint project with Wal-Mart, and to do that we'll need more than ten acres. Green, is that possible?

Green: Oh, yeah. Most of the land in that vicinity of North Georgia belongs to relatives. How much do you need?

Orange: 1600 acres.

Green: That's quite a bit but I think I can pull it off. But why do you need so much?

Orange: I'm thinking big, Green, really big, and revolutionary. San New-Manse' will be the first American city that is entirely inside or part of a Wal-Mart superstore.

Pink: Heavens to Betsy, Orange, that's about a big a mental endeavor as I can think of!

Orange: How soon can you get the land deal made, Green?

Green: Give me a week.

+++

Acapulco told Lalla goodbye. He could not call her mom, but perhaps they could be friends.

Now he had to find Billy Bob. But where could he be?

Beulah Faye would know...

Chapter 72

It's a week later at the Sans Hi (There) Council:

Orange: Well, Green, were you successful?

Green: Yes, Wal-Mart has purchased 1640 acres. A couple of caveats though.

Blue: And what might they be?

Green: They won't market real outhouses.

Red: Darn!

Green: But they will market a pseudo outhouse called a CPU (Catalytic Potty Unit). It'll be made out of plywood and look like the real thing. And it'll be sold in a package deal with gas grills and heavy duty lawn furniture.

Brown: No wonder Wal-Mart is this country's retail sales leader!

Blue: What's the other catch?

Green: No school vouchers.

Much as the Hi (There) Council didn't like that proviso, they agreed they could live with it (to keep the ball rolling).

Orange: Everything else set?

Green: Yep. Wal-Mart will fund the Hospital, Schools, and Police Force.

Black: How about housing?

Green: Single and double-wide trailers in the back parking lot.

Orange: How about the Country display?

Green: The Wal-Mart Promotion Department loved it!

+++

"His pony was beige with a black top. He came out of the desert and entered the town, stopping at the saloon. There he drank himself into a stupor and got slapped by a barmaid. All in all he said, it had been a good day. Someone asked what kind of pony did he have. He said it was a mustang.

- Acapulco Tom, "The Legend of Billy Bob", Texalina Press (PDU)

Chapter 73

D.B. Belly’s sale phone rang as he sat down to eat an unscheduled but not unprecedented pre-lunch meal. He had just received a Belly Emergency Fud Package at the Motel 3 in Nashville, sent by Fedex from the Dime Box B6. After spreading the fud contents out across the motel room table, two beds and inside the tub in the bathroom, he was ready to begin. He ignored the beeping phone for a while, but thinking that he might be in for another Belly Sandwich if the caller was one of his older and larger sisters and he didn't answer, he picked it up and asked, “you all comin’ over to here or what?” Bernice Belly said, “it’s me, uncle D., Bernice.” D.B. said, “dadgum, I didn’t know you was in Nashville. Shoot, you hungry?” Relieved that no Belly Sandwichers seemed to be in the area, D.B. began to eat. Bernice continued, “uncle D., I’ve just made the most heartbreaking discovery. I’m up here in New York…” D.B. interrupted, speaking through a mouth that was packed with fud, “dadgum! You alright? You watch them dadgum Yankees!” Bernice said, “I’m fine, uncle D., but not the folks who live up here. Do you know that there’s not one dadgum place around here to find a Moon Pie?”

D.B. had entered a Fud Coma, and responded with an emphatic grunt. Bernice resumed her list, “you can’t hardly find grits, RC, Dr Pepper, Shiner or Old Milwaukee, the barbecue and Mexican fud are downright sorry and the biscuits would kill a horse. Uncle D., this place is a fud wasteland. It’s terrible. I’m gonna open a B6 up here.” Instantaneously, D.B. snapped out of his Fud Coma. He exhaled his mouthful of fud, completely covering the motel TV set, obscuring Mickey Mouse with a thick layer of chewed biscuits, barbecue and black-eyed peas. He exclaimed, “no! Dadgum, they ain’t never been no B6 out a Texalina, among them dadgum aliens!” Bernice sternly asked, “now, uncle D., isn’t it true that a life without Moon Pies is no dadgum life at all?” D.B. said, “well, sure it is…” Then Bernice asked, “and going without barbecue, grits, Shiner and Dr Pepper is dadgum near bein’ dead, ain’t it?” D.B. said, “oh, shoot, I reckon, but…” Bernice concluded, “well, who the heck are we to be killin’ these New Yorkers? We can save ‘em, uncle D.! We’ve got to!”

D.B. said, “dadgum, Bernice, you’re confusin’ me. I don’t reckon I want to kill them dadgum Yankees, but shoot, a dadgum B6 in New dadgum York? That ain’t right is it?” Bernice said, “it’s got to be done, uncle D. If Bellys don’t do it, you know dadgum well that it won’t be done right. Listen here, it’s gonna be a little different. Folks don’t do a lot of fishin’ up here, so there’s not much of a bait market. So here’s what I’m gonna call it: Belly Brothers Biscuits, Bagels, Barbecue and Beer, OK?” D.B. shouted, “no! Dadgum it, Bernice, you cain’t go thowin’ out the dadgum bait! And what on earth you doin’ sellin’ beagles anyway? How do them thangs taste? Purty good?” Bernice answered, “it’s bagel, uncle D., not a dog. Sort of a doughnut, but it ain’t sweet.” D.B. said, “Bernice, them folks is real funny. Anybody what don’t like doughnuts that’s sweet and goes ‘round eatin’ little dogs is just not our kind a folks. Shoot! Yore makin’ my head hurt, dadgum it! Tell you what, I reckon you can start up a store, but you gotta keep the bait in there. Thow in the dadgum beagle too if you want to, and we’ll just make it a B7. I want to know how you gonna smoke ‘em, though.” Bernice replied, “OK, so it will be the first Belly Brothers Biscuits, Bait, Bagels, Beer and Barbecue shop?” D. B., anxious to return to his emergency meal and rescue Mickey Mouse from drowning in chewed fud, said, “oh, I reckon. I cain’t hardly thank on it no more.”

Chapter 74

Every great bad novel needs a lot of bad stuff. Bad writing, bad ideas, bad plotting, bad jokes, bad behavior. But too much bad may turn out good. How do we know this? We don't. But we do know there's a time and a place for almost anything. How do we know that? Because the Bible tells us so.

Let's listen as two old men play a game of checkers:

"Well, Jonah, catch any fish lately?"

"Nope."

"Have any fish caught you?"

"Nope. How about you Joshua? Knock down any walls lately?"

"Only walls that would oppress and enslave us. It's your move."

"How do you determine which walls are the oppressing, enslaving kind?"

"I don't."

"Then how you do know? King me."

"God tells me."

"How does he communicate with you?"

"On the front page of the New York Times. Your move."

"I didn't know you read the Times."

"I don't unless God is speaking to me."

"Do you pay for it? King me."

"I usually receive a complementary copy."

It was twilight and the two men knew that the darkness would surround them. They would have to get up and go back inside where no games could be played.

+++

"Dan the Man here. CBS News is finally acknowledging that the worst novel ever has been written and its sequel is currently being produced. To cover this story, I have sent a former colleague, Bernard Goldberg, to cover the story."

The camera shifts to a low mountain range in North Georgia. A white haired man is standing next to a sign that reads, 'The San New-Manse' Wal-Mart Superstore - Coming Soon!'.

"Bernie! Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Dan, I can."

"Bernie, you look like an armadillo that just got run over by an East Texas freight train. Can you tell us what's going on?"

"Yes, Dan, Wal-Mart has announced that it will build the biggest superstore in the world right here in North Georgia."

"Hot damn, Bernie, that reminds me of cornbread my grandmother used to make. She'd put some jalapeno peppers in it and forget to tell me. I'd take a bite and jump so high they'd have to buy a ten foot flagpole to get within two feet of me."

"Yes, Dan, Wal-Mart says this will be the first superstore of its kind. It will be a virtual town, with a hospital, schools, police force, and single and double-wide houssing."

"Jumpin' Jehosophat, Bernie, that reminds me of the time I was skinny dipping behind the old church. Bessie Lou pinched me on the butt and made me holler to I turned blue in the face."

"Yes, Dan, and one more thing. The Wal-Mart promotions department says there will be a display of Country while he's in his coma. They going to run an international contest via television and the internet concerning his resuscitation and the meaning of the two words he uttered before lapsing into the coma, 'Peach Pit'."

"Holy Moley!, Dan, that reminds me of the first time I got to home placte with a girl in East Texas. I was fourteen and she was twenty-one. She said she said was going to take me around the world and I forgot my passport."

"Yes, Dan."

"Great job, Bernie. You stay on this one, and don't be sending any op-ed pieces to the New York Times."

Dan looked straight at the camera, smiled, and said, "Good Night."

Chapter 75

A cell phone rang in the minivan of Rev. Billy Bob Ledbetter. He was somewhere on I-95, and that’s about all he knew. The van was being driven by Laura Louise Newton, his new music director and van driver. Billy Bob hoped Laura Louise knew where they were and where they were headed. He didn’t have a clue. “Howdy,” he said to the phone, “Billy Bob here.” Beulah Faye Ledbetter said, “Billy Bob, you’ve got to get to Nashville right away.” Billy Bob said, “I think I’ve got a preachin’ job tonight. No can do, half-sis.” Beuhah Faye replied, “get to Nashville right now, dadgum it. I got a gal singer I want to sign, and it turns out that she’s the half-sister of one of your children. I want you to meet him and put in a good word for your half-sister when it comes to signing his half-sister to an exclusive representation contract. Get here right away or I’ll drop your bookings in half. Got it?”

Billy Bob asked, “who’s the mama?” Beulah Faye said, “Lalla.” Billy Bob then asked, “which one?” Beulah said, “dadgum, how many Lallas could there be?” Billy Bob answered, “well, there was Lalla Jean Hernandez in San Diego, Lalla Darlene Smith in San Angelo, Lalla Lalla LaLaine in San Manse, Lalla...” Beulah interrupted, “dadgum it! I’m talkin’ about Lalla Gomez! You remember her?” Billy Bob said, “Dadgum right! Least, I think I do. Black hair? Gap in the middle of her top teeth? Real nice thighs?” Beulah Faye said, “I think you’ve got it. Those thighs must run in the family. Looky here, this Maria gal singer, Lalla's daughter, Acapulco's half-sister and dang near your step-daughter in a way roundabout way, is gonna be a dadgum star, and I want to sign her up. Now, you ought to remember Acupluco Tom. Strange sort of feller, but he makes some good music every once in a while between all that strange stuff. He’s your son. You tell the boy that I’ll do right by his half-sister, OK? Now, you get here to Nashville right now. Cancel everything else. You be here by tomorrow morning, or you ain’t gonna be gettin’ any preachin’ jobs for a long time. You got me, half-brother?”

+++

Billy Bob and Beulah Faye Ledbetter sat in a Nashville hotel room, eating Moon Pies and drinking Shiner, as they waited for a visit from Acapulco Tom. Billy Bob set his Shiner down when he heard a knock on the door. Suddenly, a wave of fatherly emotion overtook him. In seconds, he pictured Billy Bob Jr. crawling on the floor while delivering practice altar calls. Next, he saw ten-year old Billy Bob Jr. stepping out of the batter’s box in a little league baseball game to give the umpire a nice sermonette on the evils of false witnessing. Fighting back tears, he opened the door. “My boy! My very own son! Dadgum, come on in! Shoot, that’s one fine uniform you got. You in the army?” The young man outside the door said, “I’m from Col. Sanders, sir. I got your chicken dinners.” Beulah Faye paid the KFC delivery man. When he asked, “shouldn’t a relative get a bigger tip?”, she slammed the door.

Minutes later, another knock was heard at the door. Once again, Billy Bob found himself seeing a small version of himself engaged in youthful activities, not knowing how lucky he was to have such dadgum fine genes. He opened the door and exclaimed, “dadgum, there you are! You’re one fine lookin’ young feller! Come on in here!” The young man handed Billy Bob a car key, saying, “you look right fine yourself, sir. Here’s the key. Just call up the valet desk when you want to roll again.” Beulah Faye handed the young man a five-dollar bill, said, “thank you, son. Don’t mind him,” and closed the door.

A few minutes later, someone else knocked at the door. Disgusted with the wait by now, Billy Bob ignored the knocking until Beulah Faye shouted from the rest room, “open the dadgum door!” So, he opened the door, asking “who the hell are you?” The man said, “darned if I know. They call me Acapulco most places.”

Billy Bob said, “well, come on in! Shoot, you’re my boy!” Billy Bob then embraced Acupulco, saying, “dadgum, from what I’ve seen on TV, one of us is supposed to cry now, ain’t we?” Acupulco said, “I understand why now. Could you ease up on the hug, there?” Beulah Faye then entered the room. She said, “howdy, Acupulco. Long time no a cappella. Grab yourself some fud and have a seat. We got talkin’ to do.”

After drinking three Old Milwaukees and three Shiners, to maintain Texalina balance, Acapulco asked Billy Bob, “so, why didn’t you marry my mama?” Billy Bob said, “well, I’ll tell you one reason. I only knew her about 12 hours in my whole dadgum life. Where I come from, you got to know a gal more than 12 dadgum hours before you ask for her hand.” Acapulco replied, “well, that was long enough for you all to sleep together.” Billy Bob said, “no, I don’t think we ever did any sleepin’ best I remember. Pretty dadgum awake the whole time. Now, I’ll never forget them 12 hours, I can tell you that. Anyways, how’s your mama doin’?” Acapulco said, “I don’t know. Haven’t met her yet. That’s my next stop on the ‘this is your new life’ tour as far as I know. Listen here, didn’t you ever wonder about children you were leavin’ all around the country?” Billy Bob asked, “which country? You talkin’ ‘bout this ‘un or Canada or Mexico?” Acapulco replied, “yes.”

Billy Bob said, “here’s what I thank. The ways of the world are mysterious. You just never know what you’re doin’ when you’re doin’ it, see. It's after you done it that you know what you done. And sometimes not even then. Dadgum it, if I hadn’t spent some time with your mama, you wouldn’t be here. Now, if that there hadn’t happened, shoot, look at all that would have been lost. You wouldn’t be walkin’and talkin' around with all them Billy Bob gifts, makin’ all that nice music and sayin’ them Acapulco thangs. If you weren’t here, shoot, what in the world would folks do to get some Acapulco music and sayings? You know what, they would be folks a suin’ ol’ Billy Bob, sayin’ dadgum it, you could a got friendly with that Lalla gal and give her the gift of Acapulco, but you went and had 12 more Shiners instead a tendin' to that Lalla gal. You sorry sumbitch! We want that Acapulco music, and now we ain’t gonna git it! If you hadn’t been so dadgum lazy back them years ago, we’d have it. We gonna sue you good and dadgum proper, and Lalla is too!”

Acapulco said, “well, I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it that way. I’m used to coming up with bizarre ideas myself instead of hearing them from an unwed parent. Darn, now I guess I know where the ideas come from.”

Chapter 76

Country was in transition. He was being moved from Nashville to San New-Manse'.

His body had been carefully placed in the back of a Ford Windstar. The back seats had been removed and a metal cot had been securely bolted to the floor of the van.Country's guitar was leaning against the cot, in the same fashion it had been so many years on the road (Hint to readers: the word road will play a significant role in unmasking the meaning of 'Peach Pit').

Texas Tom was driving. Maria, who had just completed her training program for Sans Female Leaders at the TTI (Tipper Training Institute), was in the passenger seat. They were about fifty miles east, southeast of Nashville.

"What did you think about the training program?" Texas said.

"It reminded me of the PE class I took at Santa Anna High School in San Antonio." Maria replied.

Texas' eyebrows went up a little, "San Antonio is your hometown?"

"Yes, and by the way, why did your eyes go up a little?" TTI training was already kicking in.

Texas coughed, then managed to stutter out, "I have a tic caused by the bite of the Zechyzuchen mosquito, found only in the Amazon."

Maria seemed satisfied with the answer. After all, much stranger things have been presented in this novel.

It was a starry night as the Windstar cruised through the rolling hills of Middle Tennessee.

Maria asked Texas, "What do you think of the concept of a Wal-Mart superstore as a Sans?"

"I like it," replied Texas, "It's a idea whose time has come. It has 21st century written all over it. But whether it will work or not, only time will tell."

"But hasn't the future already happened?" Part of Maria's time at TTI had been an intensive, immersion course in TUT (Time Unfolding Theory) proposed by the not yet born S.M. Tubebacher. According to S.M. (who was still alive by the way), time moved from the future to the past. Ergo, if you follow the logic, the last act (that is visible to the naked eye) of any human being is his or her birth.

Texas, who was somewhat skeptical of TUT (TUT skeptics were known as 'tut tuts') said, "Well, darling, if the future has already happened, then why don't we know what Country meant when he said 'Peach Pit'?"

Maria who had absorbed the teachings of TTU said, "TLA (Tubebacher Logisitical Analysis) would posit at least three 'BOAPWs' (Best Of All Possible Worlds) solutions to that question. There are dozens of possible solutions, but as S.M. would has said, 'Stick with the first three answers that come to mind. After all, it's like we've got a lot of time on our hands'."

Texas was beginning to regret asking the question. More cautiously, he said, "What do you think are the three 'BOAPWs' to why we don't know what Country meant when he uttered 'Peach Pit'?"

Maria didn't waver. She replied, "Number One: For whatever reason, the answer is never known. Number Two: We know the answer, but for whatever reason, our mind is repressing the memory. Number Three: We know the answer."

Number Three intrigued Texas. "You mean, we might already know the answer?"

Once again, Maria did not pause. "Yes, I think we do."

Speaking in an excited voice, Texas said, "Then what is it? What does 'Peach Pit' mean?"

Just as Maria was about to reply, a bullet hit the front left tire of the Windstar. Texas lost control of the van and with tires shrieking, the van went plunging down a steep, Tennessee hill.

+++

Mosath spoke to Skinny One A48, "You and the other two Skinny Ones make sure the driver and the passenger are not conscious, then grab Country and tie him to the top of our Subaru station wagon. Oh, good shot, by the way."

A48 said, "Thanks. What about Country's guitar?"

"Bring it. It may come in handy."

Mosath felt good. Thanks to Al-Pau (La-Pau's evil twin sister, he had been cured of DLS - Diabolical Limits Syndrome).

+++

A few hours later, Maria slowy regained consciousness. Beside her in the driver's seat, Texas lay slumped over. She felt his wrist. No pulse!

Texas was dead!

Could it get any worse?

Then she looked behind her. Country was gone!

No amount of TTI training could have prepared for this.

What was she to do?......................?................???

Chapter 77

The scene: a woody, hilly area in Middle Tennessee, about 65 miles southeast of Nashville. A voice and a face appear:

"This is Bernard Goldberg, former senior correspondent with CBS News, now free lance reporter. Can you hear me, Dan?"

"Freakin' funny bone!, Bernie, I hear you loud and clear. This reminds me of the time I was reporting from Vietnam, up to my balls in Viet Cong mud and dung.What's happening there?"

"It looks like a sneak attack by Mosath and the Skinny Ones."

"Holy Spiro Agnew!, Bernie, that reminds me of my unique role in the Watergate investigation and how I singlehandedly brought down the Nixon Administration."

"Uh, yes, Dan, the scene before me is one of loss, disaster, and mystery. Texas Tom is dead, Country has been kidnapped, and Maria is missing. This novel is in total disarray."

"Jivin' Jupiter!, Bernie, that reminds me of the time I took over the anchor job from Cronkite. I told Walter I was wearing long pants whether viewers saw my legs or not."

"Ah, huh, Dan, I'm on my way back to San New-Manse' to gauge the reaction to the kidnapping of Country."

"Magnificent Moon Pies!, Bernie, that reminds me of my phone conversation with Bush Sr. just before the 92 election. He asked me to run on the ticket as VP, but I told him I was too dedicated to the fair and impartial broadcasting of news to the American people."

"OK, Dan."

"Righto, Bernie, and that's it for tonight. But don't worry. We're sticking with this story. like a Belly to a Brisket."

+++

BARF, the Belly Action Response Force, was not available for mobilization, because all Orthodox Bellys were celebrating the annual Feast of the Holey Days in Dime Box. They were held in honor of the Bellys who first settled Dime Box and were so called because of the holes they dug for the outhouses.

So there was a dilemma. Country had to be found and soon! Or the San New-Manse' Wal-Mart City of the Past would be future. The Sans Hi (There) Council was in emergency session:

Orange: How could this happen? And just before the Georgia-South Carolina game!

Blue: Calm down, Orange. As La-Pau would say, "Staying calm is a good idea, even if it's not helpful."

Brown: There's only one answer. The RE-BELS.

A gasp went through the council.

Editor's note: The RE-BELS were an acronym for the group known as the Renegade Bellys. Simply put, they were heretics. They defied Belly tradition. They exercised, maintained a healthy weight, and practiced good dietary habits. They even read books. They were everything real Bellys were not.

Orange: Are you out of your freaking mind!

Brown: Let's face it. We're well into this novel. We need some fresh faces. And remember, Mosath and the Skinny Ones are looking for real Bellys to come after them.

Purple: They'll never know what hit them!

Chapter 78

In the dark environs and back alleys of the Pittsburgh of the South, Birmingham, Alabama, Mosath and the three SOAs (Skinny One Agents) were unloading Country into the basement apartment of a three story building on Bear Bryant Avenue.

"Be careful, boys, he's our ticket to redemption, though redemption is a word that requires a new definition." Mosath said as he watched the SOAs move the 187 pound Country.

SOA 52, an apt pupil of great SO leaders of the past such as Franklin, Lyndon, and Bobby asked, "How do we redefine that which is indefinable?"

Mosath laughed. He enjoyed his verbal interchanges with SOA 52. "I can redefine because I have entered a new phase of my diabolical career."

"And what might that be?"

"One of purity of intent."

+++

It was raining for the first time in forty days and forty nights. The thunder was booming and the lightning was so frequent it sent the hairs up on the back on the beck. There was a sense of foreboding in the air and somewhere on the seamy side of Birmingham stood a lonely man.

Homast Eyskin, CEO of BOM.

He knew his brother Mosath was up to no good. Luckily, he had secretly placed an electronic tracing device the size of a tiny button on the sole of Mosath's favorite pair of shoes. The device had led him to Birmingham.

He had stopped at an old building on Bear Bryant Avenue and had walked down the stairs to the basement apartment. Beside the slightly cracked window he listened intently to Mosath and other voices.

"What do you mean, purity of intent? Something like honor among thieves?"

Mosath responded, "Something like that but much more complex. My intentions, so to speak, are pure. I wish to rid the world of these abominable Luddites. They wish to bring back things that are no longer necessary."

"But you were once the CEO of BOM until your brother Homast ousted you in a coup."

"It was just a front. I really was always a Skinny One in spirit if not always in appearance. Homast's action just allowed me to pursue my destiny in a more open manner."

"How will kidnapping Country promote the success of your ends?"

"Country is the symbol of Texalina's soul. Without him there will be no hope for the Back Out Movement. It will fade and so will the dream of a Sans Wal-mart collaborative venture."

"You really are evil."

"Yes, but it's a pure evil."

Homast slunk back into the shadows. At a safe distance, he put a call into Sans Hi (There) Council HQ.

Chapter 79

All across Texalina there was crying in the streets and shouts of anguish from outhouses. The people were lost. Texas was dead and Country was gone. A mood of desperation was settling in. But in North Galbutt...

It had been an usual Saturday night at Sloppy's BBQ Restaurant. Dozens of folks had eaten their fill of Pork BBQ, hash, rice, sweet potatoes, cole slaw and hush puppies. Enough sweet iced tea had been swallowed to alleviate the drought in Central Africa. It was 11 PM and Sloppy and Lance finally had a chance to sit down and eat.

Sloppy was in a reflective mood. "Any regrets, Lance?"

Lance finished off a hush puppy, then replied, "Sometimes I wish I would have tried out for Esquire.

(Editor's Note: Esquires are citizens of high respect and admiration in East Texalina. The first family of East Texalina, the Sams, have many family members who were and are Esquires. Becoming an Esquire requires undergoing a grueling test of will and character when one turns thirty.)

"Why didn't you try for it?" Sloppy said just before going back to the all you can eat line.

Lance shouted so Sloppy could hear. "Don't you remember, Slop? I got tangled up in blue."

"Oh yeah, now I remember." Sloppy sat down to start on his third plate. Just then they both felt a slight rush of wind. Lance thought it was Sloppy passing gas as usual but then there was a voice.

"Howdy, boys." It was the voice of Texas but only trouble was Texas wasn't there!

Sloppy looked at Lance, "Are you taking them ventriloquist's lessons again?"

"No, it ain't me, I swear." Lance said.

"He's right. It ain't him. It's me, Texas, or at least it's my voice anyway. Didn't you boys hear that I died?"

Sloppy said, "What! You died? When did that happen?"

"Well, if you'd been keeping on your reading of this novel you would know I got killed when Mosath and the Skinny Ones blew out the front tire of the Windstar I was driving."

"Well, if you're dead, what's your voice doing here?" Sloopy took another bite of the sweet potatoes."

"Good question. I'm here (and perhaps in other spots also) to nudge the plot along."

Lance spoke up, "How about this particular instance."

"Nothing in particular; just to let the readers know that I'm available as a voice of wisdom, advice, and insight on an as needed basis."

"Too bad you can't eat." was all Sloppy could say.

Chapter 80

Inchoate Sam was a fifth generation Sam. His parents, Benjamin C. and Miranda Hoover Sam were well respected members of the North Galbutt community. Inchoate, or IS, as he was called by friends and family, had grown up enjoying the better things of life, at least according to Samsonian standards. In fact, he had surpassed such standards and had even matriculated at Harvard where he received a degree in Byzantium Culture and History. IS always said that life in North Galbutt and Texalina was but a continuation of the Byzantine Empire.

One problem though. There were no jobs for Byzantinists in North Galbutt or anywhere in Texalina. Uncle Sloppy had offered IS a job slinging hash and transporting pigs, but IS thought such work was beneath him. Now, slightly embittered and more than slightly desperate, he was living in a one room shack on the south end of North Galbutt.

He was down to his last can of Sloppy Sloppys when he heard a voice speaking to him. It was coming from the fireplace.

"Now is the time IS."

IS was stunned. That voice sounded just like Texas Tom. But the news all over Texalina was that Texas had died transporting Country to San New-Manse'.

"Uh?"

"Now is the time, IS."

"The time for what?"

"The time to find the love of your life."

"Where is she?"

"She's in Tennessee, lost in the woods near Chattanooga. You must go to her."

"How will I find her?"

"She will find you."

+++

A thick and killing smog hung over the city. Deep within its bowels, ready to be emptied, were agents of evil few had ever seen or known. Great destruction and havoc were foreordained for this day.

Mosath laughed. Then laughed again. A hideous laugh. A laugh that sent sparks of fear through the Skinny Ones present.

"Why do you laugh so, Mosath?" SO Agent 17 asked.

"I laugh because I must laugh. Because without laughter I cannot fully appreciate this moment where evil triumphs."

"But you don't think the Sans Hi(There) Council will attempt a rescue?"

"I'm counting on it." Mosath replied, then started laughing again.

Chapter 81

Let's meet the RE-BELS:

Johnny Belly: loves Country Jim Nabors music; eats tofu; takes girl friend to poetry readings; bench presses 450 pounds.

Weanna Belly: Afro-American female now living on Long Island; black belt in Quonsome; doesn't believe in San Manse'; likes to kick ass.

Lee Voe Belly: Chinese American female now residing in Vancouver; practices Zen Buddhism; never met a real Belly she liked; can jump 30 feet ravines.

Brackson Belly: Unit leader; played for the New York Giants; now sculptur in Dallas; digs Earth Day rallies.

They were Bellys who were proud to be fit, trim, and socially conscious. But if the price was right they liked to rumble.

Watch out, Mosath!

+++

Unit Leader Brackson Belly was at the controls of the RE-BELcopter. He shouted over the engine roar, "Lee Voe, have you picked up anything on the radar?"

"Yes, sir. The implant in Country's brain is going off. I'll transfer the code to audio."

The following sounds were then heard in the copter:

"Symbols, symbols of my soul,

"Lord them ole symbols are out of control"

Weanna spoke up, "That's Country alright."

"Give me the coordinates." Brackson barked out.

"24 degrees left, then 36 degress right."

Johnny let out a RE-BEL yell, then said, "This ought to be fuh!"

+++

Acapulco, Beulah Faye and Billy Bob took seats at a table near the rear of Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge. A waitress said, “hidy, Acapulco. You playin’ tonight?” Acapulco said, “no, I’m here to hear my half-sister as far as I know.” The waitress asked, “who’s that?” Acapulco replied, “gal singer named Maria is what I’m told.” The waitress said, “dadgum! I didn’t know you all was kin. She’s goin’ places in this town is what I thank. She ain’t comin’ here tonight, though. She’s always here by now eatin’ in the kitchen, and eatin’ a whole lot I can tell you. Won’t go onstage unless she’s eaten enough hamburgers and fried to feed an army. You won’t be sein’ her tonight.”

Beulah Faye asked Acapulco, “well, where in the world is your half-sister?” Acapulco said, “how the heck should I know? I’ve never seen the woman in my life!” Billy Bob asked, “you know what? I have never understood why they call this an Orchid Lounge. Where are the dadgum orchids?” Beulah Faye said, “well, dadgum it, if Maria ain’t comin’ here we better find out where she is. I’ll call up Lance.”

Chapter 82

The bullets whizzed by Lance's head as he turned off Highway 17 just south of Moncks Corner. He was now on the Macedonian Highway. He could hear the pigs squealing. He'd be squealing too if he was in an open trailer attached to a Dodge Durango doing 93 mph.

How did those damn Revenuers found about this trip? Pig Running was getting more dangerous every day. Sloppy was going to have give him a raise.

PIing was a lot safer than this.

+++

Lance screeched into North Galbutt at two am. He had lost the Revenuers on Devil's Backbone about five miles out of NG. They had gone off a bridge into a creek.

Sloppy was behind the restaurant barbequing hogs.

"Well, Lance, you made good time getting back. How many pigs you bring me?"

"The usual. Around seventy-five. Sloppy, now I got a bone to pick with you. You didn't tell me 'bout no Revenuers around Moncks Corner."

Sloppy spit out some tobacco juice. "Now, Lance, don't go getting uppity with me. You know danger is our middle name. Don't matter anyway. Got a new PI job for you."

Lance sighed in relief. "What is it?"

"Maria, my long lost daughter is lost again. She got lost about the same time Counry was kidnapped and Texas got killed?"

"Will I have to listen to Texas' voice while on this assignment."

"Probably."

"Sheesh. Well, that's still better than getting shot at by Revenuers. Where was she seen last?"

"Somewhere near Chattanooga."

"I'm outta here. Can I get a BBQ plate to go?"

While Sloppy and Lance were talking, no one noticed IS sneaking into the back seat of Lance's Dodge Durango.

Chapter 83

When the RE-BELcopter, landed on the Birmingham street, Lee Voe spotted a huge crowd milling in the front of the apartment house. Unit Leader Brackson snapped,

"Let's move in, but be careful!"

Fully armed and loaded, the elite group of Renegade Bellys neared the milling crowd. The crowd was murmuring with excitement. As Weanna pushed through the crowd she saw why. There was Country lying on the sidewalk, peaceful as a sleeping baby.

Brackson snapped again, "Be careful! It could be a trap."

All four RE-BELS surrounded the body. Johnny spoke, "Any sign of Mosath and the Skinny Ones?"

A squeaky voice emanated from the crowd, "We saw leaving them fifteen minutes ago."

"Typical of Mosath and the Skinny Ones. Nothing but cowards at heart." Brackson said this while looking through the sky with his binoculaurs.

"Yea, they're lucky, cause we would have kicked their butt." Johnny said.

"Okay, let's load Country in the copter. Weanna, chart a course to San New-Manse"

If the RE-BELS had not been so arrogant and cocky, they would have taken a closer look at Country. Highly trained as they were, they would have noticed a difference in his countenance.

It was a sneer.

+++

Lucy (aka Natasha) had been wondering why Mr. Bubba had sent her to these god-forsaken woods in East Tennesse. She was cold and lonely. But then she had been lonely since she and Dickie had broken up. The refusal to make pants for women had been but the last straw. There were only two other problems as well, but we won't go into them here.

Lucy heard a rustling of the leaves. Whoever or whatever it was could not be more than ten feet away. Lucy crouched, her bare hands shaped in fists, ready to strike.

She pulled back one fist, but as she started to propel it forward, something grabbed it and next thing she knew she was flying through the air, landing with a sickening thud next to a mulberry tree. As she started to get up, the same something yanked her by the collar, jerking her off the ground. She cried out in protest, then a sudden realization came over her. Her assailant was none other than Maria, the Latin lass she had met just outside San Manse'.

"Maria, it's me, Lucy!"

Maria responded, "How can I be sure in a world that is constantly changing?"

"Remember Dickie, he admired our toes."

"Oh, Lucy, it's good to see you. Are you alright?"

Lucy shook the dirt off her back and clothes. "Yes, where did you learn to fight like that?"

"At the TTI in San Wo-Manse'. Let me tell you, that Tipper is one hell of a woman. What are you doing here, by the way? You're not lost too, are you?"

"No, Mr Bubba sent me here. He wanted his name inserted here at a key point in the sequel. He's thinking of doing of a television talk show and he wants all the free publicity he can get."

"Do you think he'll do good on TV?"

"Only if most of the viewers are drinking Russian Soda Pop."

"Do you mean vodka?"

"Yes."

Chapter 84

Acapulco, Billy Bob, and Beulah Faye were the last to leave Tootsie's Orchid Lounge.

"How let's us go see that new Wal-Mart SuperStore in the mountains of North Georgia." Billy Bob said." I hear it might become the top tourist attraction between Dollywood and Disney World."

"I think that's a good idea." The voice of Texas replied.

Billy Bob jumped up out of his chair, spilling an Old Mil in his lap, "Who the hell said that?"

"It's Texas. He's now a disembodied voice appearing at crucial moments in the novel. Dammit, BB, why don't you keep up on your reading?" Acapulco said calmly.

"You know I'm too busy saving souls and closing down honky tonks."

The voice of Texas said, "Shut up and listen. Get off your butts and head to San New-Manse'. It's a good chance the events of this sequel are going to culminate there and if you've got any sense you won't miss it."

Beulah Faye said, "I like that voice. So smooth and easy. A little twangy though. Reminds me of Willie Nelson."

+++

Lance and IS tore through the wee hours of a Carolina Piedmont morning. Driving down Interstate 26 between Spartanburg and Asheville, the Durango was running at the exuberant speed of 97 mph.

"Lance, do you ever worry about getting a speeding ticket?"

"No, IS, I don't. There's too many other things to worry about."

"What are they?"

"For one thing, a real plot, dadgummit. This here plot just keeps going back and forth with no end in sight. You supposed to meet the love of your life somewhere near Chattanooga. Well, the love of my life, Laredo, is back in North Galbutt sleeping single in a double bed. Dadburnit, I'd liked to retire, but I can't because I invested all my money in Enron and Worldcom."

"Sorry about that Lance."

"Sorry don't pay the bills, IS. At least PIing beats pig running."

IS was no longer listening. He was thinking about the love of his life and how he'd be meeting her real soon.

Texas said so.

Chapter 85

They met at the crossroads of a small village just south of Chattanooga. Pundits would later say their meeting was inevitable. Dylan would have called it a simple twist of fate. But whatever the cause, they did meet, and life for either one of them was never the same again.

The village was modeled after a Russian village, circa 1899. Riley Scarborough, mayor of the village, had the bright idea that such a transition would make the village more attractive to tourists, especially since the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1989. He ordered a snow machine and requested that the grocery store increase its supplies of beets, potatoes, and mushrooms. The one and only liquor store was told to be ready for a run on vodka.

So when Lucy (aka Natasha) and Maria entered the village, which had been renamed New Chevkov, Tennessee, Lucy was seemingly transported back in time. She had the warm feeling of returning to the scenes of her youth and for some mysterious reason felt that love was just around the corner.

At that moment, Lucy knew her spying days were over. No more KGB, no more Dickie, no more Bubba. She was going to hang her up her gun and become a good Russian housewife. The fact that she was in America was irrelevant.

A few miles away Lance's Durango was barreling toward New Chevkov. How did Lance know where to go? We don't know. We just know that he knew. Lance has promised to reveal all his PI secrets one day in a book (any publishers out there interested?).

IS had perked up after a short nap. Lance had told him about the Russian village and IS was thankful that he had studied Russian at Harvard. He had just known that it would come in handy one day.

As they pulled into the village, Lance and IS noticed the two girls standing in front of the hardware store. Lance knew immediately who they were. When the Durango came to a halt, Lance told IS to jump out and then hollered at Maria to jump in. Maria asked him,

"Where are we going, Lance?"

"San New-Manse"

"How about Lucy and that funny looking guy who jumped out of your truck?"

"Oh, I think they'll be alright."

The Durango screamed out of the village at 83 mph. Looking through the back mirror Lance saw Lucy and IS walkin' and talkin'.

Chapter 86

Homast was not fooled. He knew that his evil brother, Mosath, was masquerading as the comatose Country. Country, aka Mosath, was on the way to San New-Manse', care of the RE-BELS.

But where was the real Country?

He must still be in the basement apartment, guarded by the Skinny Ones. The SOs were notorius for their fierceness in the defending what they thought was theirs. On the other hand, they were known for their weakness for Chocolate Jello, especially the non-fat variety.

Homast had a plan. He called up Bill Cosby and asked if he were free to come to Birmingham. Bill said yes. He could be there in 6 hours with a case of chocolate jello.

All Homast could do was wait.

+++

Beulah Faye called Lance’s cell phone. “Straightpoint here.” Beulah said, “Hey Lance, Maria’s gone from Nashville. The gal singer. Find her in 12 hours for ten grand. OK?” Lance thought to himself, “Dadgum! I’ll get paid by Sloppy and Beulah too for the same job. Double header!” Then he remembered the last time he had tried to pull something over on Beulah. She’d had Billy Bob name him “sinner of the year” in all his sermons around East Texalina. Terrible for business. So he replied, “Well, Beulah, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m already looking for Maria. I got IS here and he’s looking too. The word I get is that she’s been snatched up and is on the way to Georgia.” Beulah said, “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Lance said, “Shoot, I done told you ever dadgum thing I know about Maria. You know IS don’t you?” Beulah said, “Yeah, Lance, I know is, are, ain’t and all them big dadgum words. I ain’t lookin’ for dadgum words though, dadgum it, I’m lookin’ for Maria gal singer!” Lance said, “Looky here, you all head out toward Georgia, OK? There’s something funny goin’ on at a Walmart down there. Don’t start askin’ me no questions ‘bout it right now. All I know is that there’s something goin’ down at Walmart besides prices, OK? I’ll tell you more when I find it out. You all help me out here and I’ll get you first dibs on Maria gal singer, OK? After that, my other client wants to talk with her. And IS.” Beulah said, “OK, Lance, we’ll head out. You better keep yourself straight with me on this, though. And grab some coffee, dadgum it. You’re talkin’ funny.”

Chapter 87

Beulah called up DB’s sale phone. After over a minute, she heard DB in a voice more reserved than she’d ever heard from him. “Hidy there. You got any good fud?” Beulah said, “It's Beulah Faye, DB. No, I ain't got any fud. I’m in a dadgum hotel room. You OK?” DB said, “Shoot no I ain’t OK. You know what? I done found out that the fud Bobby Don sent up from Dime Box had been flied! In a dadgum airyplane! He was supposed to a sent it on the dadgum bus. Shoot, they ain’t no tellin’ what might a happened to that dadgum fud. I done got me a belly pain!” Beulah said, “Did it taste funny?” DB said, “Tasted OK far’s I ‘member. Now that I know it had been flied though, it don’t seem like it tasted right neither. Shoot, Beulah, what am I gonna do? I got the dadgum Yankee flyin fud belly pains! Mama told me ‘bout this, dadgum it! That there’s what got Miz Emmy Earhart. Made her wreck that dadgum plane too, on account a getting’ the dadgum Yankee flyin’ fud belly pain. Shoot, I jist cain’t believe I done ate no dadgum fud that had been flied!”

Beulah said, “Listen here, DB, you’re gonna be just fine. We’ll come over there and get you some proper fud that ain’t been flown. Flied either. Here’s what we’re gonna do after that, DB. We’re headin’ to Georgia, to a Walmart.” DB said, “Shoot, I’m in dadgum Tennasee, Beulah. The dadgum Walmart’s hunnerds a mile away. Shoot, I cain’t go drivin’ to Dime Box with these dadgum Yankee flyin’ fud belly pains!” Beulah Faye said, “DB, I’m not talkin’ about the Dime Box Walmart. We’re goin’ to Georgia.” DB said, “You mean to say they done builded another one? Shoot, what they need another one for? The first one is just fine, dadgum it. Biggest dadgum store I never seen, dadgum it.” Beulah Faye said, “DB, believe it or not, there are a bunch of Walmarts around, even outside of Dime Box.” DB said, “Well, shoot, I shore hope they don’t thank I’m gonna go drivin’ ta that other one. The only one I know how to drive to is that first one they builded. I ain’t gonna go learnin’ no new dadgum drivin’ places, I can tell you that. Anyway, my belly is shore painin’ me! Brang me over some proper dadgum fud! Please!”

+++

Beulah, Billy Bob and Acapulco walked into DB’s room at the Nashville 3. Acapulco had never seen anything like it. There were dozens of B6 fud containers stacked all all through the room and bathroom. Each was completely empty, with scarcely any fud residue left. DB was lying on the bed, immobile. The three visitors had to clear a path through the fud containers to actually see DB’s face, since his belly obscured their view as they entered the room. Beulah Faye said, “Looky here, DB, we got you some pizza pies.” DB said in a low voice, “Shoot, I don’t usally start off supper with pie. Smells purty good though. It ain’t been flied had it?” Beulah said, “Oh no, DB. I seen it made just a minute ago.” DB slowly sat up in the bed and took the piece of pizza Beulah handed him. DB said, “Dadgum, that there’s some funny pie, but I sorta like it! Give me another a them pie!” Fifteen minutes later, DB had eaten 12 pizzas. He said, “Well, that there’s the dessert I reckon. What we gonna eat for supper?” Beulah Faye said, “I got you covered, DB. We got two dozen buckets of fried chicken in the car. Listen here, let’s get moving to Georgia. I’ll drive your pick-up and you can eat chicken. The minute you start running low, we’ll stop for more. OK?” DB said, “Well, shoot, I reckon I could eat me some dadgum chicken. I’ll tell you one dadgum thang though. I ain’t gonna wait to eat at no dadgum Walmart. Shoot, I’d plumb storve. Where’s that dadgum chicken anyway? I’m kinda hungry!”

Chapter 88

"Bernard Goldberg here, reporting live from San New-Manse' where the largest Wal-Mart in history is going up. Can you hear me, Dan?"

"Rippin, RC Cola, Bernie, I just got back from three days in Jamaica. The sun's so hot down there it'll burn the skin off a rhino. What's happening?"

"Well, Dan, the RE-BELcopter has landed and they are just now transporting the comatose Country to the center of the almost finished Wal-Mart."

"Holy Richard Nixon, Bernie, that reminds me of the 2002 election where I predicted that if Al Gore didn't win Tipper would stop putting out."

"Yes, Dan, and there is excitement here you wouldn't believe. The whole Wal-Mart is abuzz that Deep Belly is on his way here. Wal-Mart executives are fearful that food supplies will be be exhausted and starvation will result."

"Wiley Walter Cronkite, Bernie, that reminds me of this morning when I woke and heard voices in the adjoining room. It turned out to be my wife talking on the phone."

"Uh, huh, Bernie, one more thing, the RE-BELS are questioning whether it's the real Country or not. They think they've been hoodwinked by Mosath and the Skinny Ones."

"Jumpin' jumpin' beans, Bernie, that reminds me. I've got a dinner engagement in five minutes. Catch you later."

"Right, Dan."

+++

Bill Cosby arrived at the Birmingham airport on schedule. Homast was waiting and took him immediately to the apartment where the real Country was still in captivity.

"The usual fee?" Homast asked.

"That's right. Expenses too." Cos replied.

"Upon reaching the apartment, Cos walked alone to the door and knocked. A voice said, "Who's there?"

"It's the Cos and I've got chocolate jello."

There was a mad rush to the door as each of the Skinny Ones fought frantically to be the first in line. "You know the drill." Cos barked out, then handed each SO a bowl of jello. As they were greedily consuming the jello, Homast walked in. He spoke quickly,

"OK, here's the scoop. The chocolate jello you just ate is customized to Sans specifications and you know what that means. It's got trans-fatty acids in it. A lot of them."

A wail went up through the apartment. Homast continued,

"It'll be our little secret, on one condition. We walk out of here with Country. You don't make a move."

One Skinny One raised his hand. Homast said, "Yes?"

"Can we have another bowl?"

Chapter 89

Mosath was slightly uncomfortable. He had not moved for twenty-fours. And what was even more disquieting was the disgusting Wal-Mart shoppers looking at him as he pretended to be in a coma. Thank goodness for the glass case.

Making himself look like Country had been easy. Country always had a three day beard and always wore sunglasses and a Texas Rangers baseball cap. And since Mosath was only a inch or so taller than Country and only about 13 pounds heavier, rounding out the disguise had been a simple matter. What was not easy though was the gaping crowds. They must be thousands of them.

But it was all worth it. For this would be Mosath's crowning achievement; the dissolution of the Sans great new city and the slaying of many of its leading characters. He would go down in evildoers' history as one of the great ones.

Mosath sneered. It almost looked like a smile.

+++

Lance's cell phone rang. He said, "Howdy."

"Is that you, Lance? Where in tarnation are you?" It was Deep Belly.

Lance sighed. It was hard to drive 103 mph and talk at the same time. Walkin' and talkin' was much more natural.

"I just crossed the Georgia line headed for San New-Manse'."

"Well, tell me somehing, boy, you being a private eye and all, do you know where Maria is?"

"She's sitting beside me in the passenger seat." Lance said this while passing eight cars at one time."

"Hot diggedy." replied Deep Belly, "that's all we wanted to know. See you in... what did you call that place you're going?"

"San New-Manse'."

"Well, whatever its name is, you better tell 'em ole DB is a'comin'. "

Lance wondered about the status of food supplies in North Georgia.

+++

When they were small boys, Mosath and Homast had been inseparable. Indoor plumbing was overtaking rural North Texas and the boys had made a pact that they wouldn't let a day go by without using an outhouse. Now many years later Homast realized that Mosath had not been sincere.

Without sincerity, Homast thought, life isn't worth living.

That's why he had to be the one to put an end to Mosath's diabolical career. No matter the cost.

After dropping the Cos off at the airport Homast began what he knew might be his final journey. The thought did not deter him. He was willing to sacrifice all for the Back Out Movement.

Some things were bigger than self.

Also, it had fallen upon him to take Country to San New-Manse'. Never in his life had Homast had so much weight upon his shoulders.

He glanced at his watch. It was four years old. He had bought it at a Wal-Mart somewhere in Arkansas. It was a good watch, a faithful one. It said he would be in San New-Manse in five hours.

Chapter 90

The crowd had gotten so big around Country, aka Mosath, that Wal-Mart officials asked the RE-BELS if they didn't mind hanging around a while, in case the crowd got a little unruly. In fact, the RE-BELS didn't mind at all because they were still hoping to kick a little ass. The Country rescue mission had been far too easy. All four of them were disappointed with the lack of action.

Lee Voe shouted at one woman who was inching closer to the glass case, "Move back, bitch, before I toss you into the vegetable stand!"

The woman's face turned red but she did as she was told.

Johnny then hit the jaw of old geezer with the butt of his AK47. The man went flying between two checkout stands, landing in the travel agency along the front row. Weanna called out, "Make sure you go first class." All the RE-BELS laughed.

"Ise might be hungry, but I still got time to do a little Renegade Belly whupping."

The RE-BELS turned around. Behind the candy display stood...

DEEP BELLY!

+++

Witnessing the despicable actions of the RE-BELS from a safe distance, Lance and Maria were steeling themselves to get involved in the fray. But just as they began to step forward, Deep Belly made his grand entrance.

"Well, darling, we can head on back to North Galbutt. It's time you met your daddy and tasted some real barbeque."

"What about Deep Belly? Won't he need some help?"

Lance just laughed. "Honey, this fight'll be over before it starts."

"How about Country?"

"His first stop will be North Galbutt after he wakes up. Sloppy's pork BBQ will be the first thing on his mind."

Lance and Maria headed for the Durango.

Editor's note: Very soon the fight between Deep Belly and the RE-BELS will be described in all its gory, glorious detail. But we must warn you. It is not for the weak of heart.

+++

On the way out of San New-Manse', Lance gave a Sloppy a call.

Sloppy answered, "Sloppy's BBQ, if you don't like our food, you ain't hungry."

"Sloppy, it's Lance."

"Make it snappy, boy, the North Galbutt League of Women Shoppers is here tonight, and good god, these women can eat!"

"I've got Maria and we're on our way back." Lance thought he could hear Sloppy sniffling. "Do you want to talk to her?"

"You bet, Lance, and good job by the way. Your next pig run will be Myrtle Beach."

"Mr. Sloppy? This is Maria Gomez Greenstreet."

"Call me Daddy, Maria. It's about time."

Their conversation went on for another fifteen minutes. Lance wondered if Sloppy would pick up the bill.

+++

Meanwhile about forty miles north of Atlanta, Homast was barreling along. In the back of the car, he heard a groan. Oh no, thought Homast, is that Country making that noise?

"It's me, alright. Where the hell am I?"

"Country, you've come out of your coma! Now you can tell me and the readers what the last words you spoke before going into a coma meant."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, what the hell were the last words I spoke before going into a coma?"

"Peach Pit."

Country started laughing and went on for a good five minutes before being able to speak. "Why, you knucklehead, this is what I meant." And with those words handed a peach pit over the back of the front car seat to Homast.

"You mean you were talking about a literal peach pit."

"Yes! I was eating a peach and accidentally got its pit stuck in my throat. Obviously there was just enough space for air to pass through but not enough to keep me conscious. When you hit that bump a few miles back the pit become dislodged and flew out of my mouth."

"Damn!"

"Did anybody think to have a doctor examine me?"

"Everybody was concerned with the figuring out what the mysterious words Peach Pit meant."

Country sunk back into the car seat. "Where we going?"

"San New-Manse'"

"Wake me up when we get there."

Chapter 91

Beulah Faye drove DB’s pick-up into the San New-Manse' Walmart parking lot. DB exclaimed, “Dadgum, this here’s a big ‘un! Shoot, and we gonna have a scrap? This’ll be dadgum fun!” Lance then pulled up beside the pick-up and parked. When everyone was out of the vehicles, DB said, “Now, listen here. I got me some thangs here we can use in the scrappin’ game. You all take these here Hefty bags over to the micerwav apartment and heat ‘em up, a minute a piece, OK? Then put ‘em in one a them nice Walmart carts and brang ‘em over to me.” Acapulco looked inside the Hefty bag he had just been handed. “Water balloons?” DB said, “No, they ain’t no water in them dadgum balloons. They full a pig lard. Warn ‘em up and I’ll toss ‘em at them scrappin’ folks. This here’s gonna be some dadgum fun!”

DB was elated as he entered the Walmart door. “Shoot, this here’s nice!” He grabbed a cart, pushed it, and stepped on the rear for a ride. “Dadgum, that’s what I like ‘bout Walmart carts. They don’t go crumblin’ up when I ride on ‘em like them Winn Dixie carts. These here little carts can ride a Belly!” DB zoomed down several aisles, stopping at the sporting goods department. He located the bowling balls, and loaded up his cart with them. Next, he asked Beulah Faye, who had been struggling to keep up with him, “Well, where’s the dadgum scrappers?” Beulah Faye said, “Dadgum, slow down! Anyway, you ain’t gonna believe this, but them little scoundrels are all wearin’ black ninja outfits. You cain’t miss ‘em.”

DB began riding on his cart again. It weighed over 600 lbs. with the bowling ball load. Suddenly, he saw six Skinny Ones running down an aisle toward him. He stopped the cart and said, “Here goes a dadgum strike!” The lead SO yelled, “Watch your feet! Bowling ball incoming!” DB threw the bowling ball like a baseball, not on the floor. It broke all the ribs of the lead Skinny One as he fell backwards, knocking down the SO behind him. The first five SOs hit the floor like dominoes, but the sixth turned and ran. DB exclaimed, “Dadgum, I missed my strike. Shoot!”

Highly frustrated, DB rapidly pushed his heavy cart over the SOs in his way, leaving them unconscious and with several damaged body parts. He saw the fleeing SO and threw a bowling ball. The SO went down. DB said, “Well, at least I got my dadgum spare. I shore don’t like it when they don’t all go down, dadgum it.”

Acapulco found DB then, with a cart full of DB’s “grease balls.” DB said, “Just foller me there, Mr. Pulco. We’ll do some dadgum greasin’!” DB became angry after cruising Walmart aisles for over a minute and not finding a single SO. “Shoot, they better be more scrappin’, dadgum it. It ain’t right to say they gonna be a scrap and you don’t get one dadgum chance to get a strike.” At that moment, a 10 ft. display of Scott Tissue tumbled onto DB, and 12 SOs descended on him, jumping on top of the packages of toilet tissue.

DB exclaimed, “Dadgum it, that ain’t fair! I got all this sorry toilet paper on me! It’s terrible!” DB sprang to his feet, sending packages of toilet tissue flying as far as ten aisles away. Then he grabbed a grease ball in each hand and threw them at the fleeing SOs. The lead SO gasped, “Oh no! Concentrated trans-fatty acids!” DB continued to throw the grease balls. Ten of the SOs slipped and slid on the Walmart floor. DB opened a package of Saran Wrap, and quickly wrapped it around the mass of SOs. He then added several wraps of clothesline and said, “Don’t you fellers go nowhere, OK” Next, DB began zooming on his bowling ball cart again, exhorting Acapulco to try to keep up, “Ride that sumbitch! Don’t push it! That ain’t no fun!”

DB heard Beulah Faye yell, “They’re getting’ away, dadgum it!” DB hurried to the store entrance, and staged a battle that would become decisive in SO military history. He saturated the escaping SOs with grease balls. They were traumatized by the icky feel and smell of the pervasive grease. Then DB said, “Now, you all stand up and be still, OK?” The SOs slowly rose to their feet. Then DB threw a bowling ball at a row of 12 SOs. Only eight went down. DB yelled, “Dadgum it! I hate it when they won’t go down!” Completely out of control by now, DB began firing bowling balls and grease balls like a cannon. Everyone who was there later agreed that they had never seen such a display of uncontrolled violence and destruction. When all his balls, bowling and grease, had been thrown, DB said, “That there’s just terrible! I didn’t get me one dadgum strike out a the whole dadgum mess!” He walked up to an SO and gently asked, “Hey, you all want to start over? I’d sure like to get me another try at a real good strike.” The SO said nothing. That displeased DB. He said, “Well dadgum, you ain’t got to be all stuck up just cause I wadn’t thowin’ no good that first round! Dadgum it, give me another chance!”

Beulah Faye walked up and said, “DB, I think they’re all wore out. The ones that ain’t dead, that is.” DB said, “Don’t you believe none a that! They jist ain’t gonna give me no chance to get my dadgum strike is all they is to it. Shoot, I reckon they done won.”

Chapter 92

Homast pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot. As he gazed at the front entrances he saw Skinny Ones by the score rushing out in a mad panic.

"DB must've made it. Wake up, Country, we're here."

Country yawned, opened his eyes and stretched. "You know what, I'm mighty hungry. I could go for some Sloppy's BBQ just about now."

"Not now, Country, we need to hurry into the Wal-Mart and see if DB needs help."

'I need to use the outhouse first."

+++

Homast waited anxiously. Country had been in the pseudo-outhouse (PO) fifteen minutes with no indications of coming out soon. Homast couldn't wait any longer. He needed to find Mosath and bring this conflict to an end.

As soon as Homast entered the giant Wal-Mart, Country stepped out of the PO. Having relieved himself after several weeks of being in a coma, Country felt good but empty. He had now had only thing on his mind: Sloppy's BBQ.

Quicky coming to a fateful decision, Country hopped into Homast's vehicle, started it up, and pulled out of the Wal-Mart parking lot. Destination?

North Galbutt.

Chapter 93

DB sat on the sidewalk in front of the Walmart entrance, disconsolate that he had thrown so poorly. Suddenly, six police cars raced into the parking lot. An officer ran toward DB. DB said, “Now dadgum it, that ain’t right. You cain’t take me into jail jist ‘cause I didn’t thow no good. See, the rules is that when you don’t thow no good, you get a good booin’, you might get benched and you got to run extry laps. See? But they ain’t nothin’ in the dadgum rules ‘bout goin’ to jail, I can tell you that!”

The officer said, “You ain’t goin’ to jail. Shoot, there’s a reward on those sorry Skinny Ones. We got some money for you.” DB said, “No, that ain’t in the rules neither! You don’t get no dadgum bonus when you thowed bad! ‘Sides, I ain’t go no dadgum room in the barn for more dadgum Mickey boxes anyway. Now, if that there’s the penalty for bad thowin’ in these parts I reckon I’ll take my dadgum punishment and tote them dadgum Mickey boxes. I shore don’t like changin’ the dadgum scrappin’ rules though, I can tell you that!”

Just then, Mavis Miller, a Walmart asst. mgr., ran out the door saying, “There’s a mess of troublemakers in here! You all come and get ‘em!” DB quickly rose to his feet, saying, “We getting’ another scrap? Goody, goody!” He ran to the entrance, breaking the glass door that didn’t open quickly enough.

DB soon saw a group of RE-BELs harassing three Walmart cashiers. He asked Mavis, “Is them the scrappers?” Mavis said, “Get ‘em!” DB grabbed a small man, who immediately began to hit DB in the face. DB gave him an enormous slap to the head, saying, “You just settle down there. You gonna be my ball, OK?” DB lifted the RE-BEL over his head and threw him with remarkable velocity toward four other RBs. They all crashed to the floor. DB exclaimed, “I got me a strike! Dadgum it, I got me a dadgum strike! I win!”

In an instant, DB was wedged between four Walmart carts, each filled with open cans of tofu. DB yelled, “Dadgum, that stuff stinks!” He picked up an entire cart of tofu, and threw it over 100 ft. Someone yelled, “Gosh, it does stink!” DB then emerged from his trap, asking Mavis, “Well, what am I supposed to do now? I done got my strike and won. What kinda rules we playin’ by now?” Mavis said, “Get that bunch!”, pointing to a group of 12 RBs running toward DB carrying bottles of cod liver oil. DB could see what was coming. He knelt to the floor so he wouldn’t slip on the incoming oil as it was hurled out of the bottles. Then he grabbed a shopping cart that was filled with items from the linen department and shoved it toward the RBs at a speed of approximately 35 mph. Several of the RBs hit the floor and the others began slipping on the cod liver oil. DB asked, “Is that a strike or not? I ain’t never seen one a them.”

Unsure of local rules, DB grabbed an RB from the floor and raised him for tossing. The RB exclaimed, “Don’t throw me! I’m a Belly!” DB said, “You are? Well, shoot, I never seen a Belly carryin’ on like you all. Anyway, jist be still and have a nice trip, little Belly feller.” Then he tossed the RB over 30 ft., crashing a group of 10 RBs to the floor. DB said, “Dadgum, it’s sure good to have my tossin’ stroke back.”

+++

After the police officers had finished packing the RBs they caught up with into a van, one of them said to DB, “Listen here, if you ain’t gonna take your reward, why don’t we go spend it on a good barbecue?” DB said, “Dadgum right! You know what, I’m kinda hungry!” The officer said, “OK, let’s go get Sloppy. Just follow me.”

Chapter 94

This was the chance Mosath had been waiting for. The Bellys conducting internecine warfare was the perfect moment for unleashing his deadly and diabolical no-limits plan.

So, as the Bellys fought, and with everyone's attention on them, Mosath eased out of the glass case, simultaneously discarding the Country disguise.

It was now time to put his plan in action.

But what was it?...

+++

Quickly, Mosath donned a new disguise. He had chosen it carefully, one that all the rotund, out of shape, food crazy Wal-Mart shoppers would have absolutely no suspicions about: Sloppy Sam!

+++

"It's a side street. But side streets can be interesting. Not knowing where you are or where you are going is a sort of wish-fulfillment. If you're waiting for something positive to happen, it probably will."

- Y.B. Commandance, "Upper Level PPU", Texalina Press, 1979

Chapter 95

Not wishing to be seen, Homast entered the Wal-Mart through a side door. Making his way to the center of the store, he paused momentarily in the men's shoes section. His old pair of shoes had been damaged in a hail storm outside Birmingham and he was desperately in need of a new pair. But much to his regret, he remembered that he bought shoes only at K-Mart.

After leaving the shoe section, he advanced cautiously to the center of the store where Country was supposed to be on display. When he got there he was utterly confused by the sight before him. There, if his eyes did not fail him, standing beside the glass case, was none other than the renowned Pork BBQer, Sloppy Sam from North Galbutt, South Carolina. And even more shocking was the fact that Sloppy was pointing a rifle at the back of Deep Belly, the renowned eater of fud from Dime Box, Texas. Both men, who were strong advocates of outhouses (one even owned a rolling outhouse), were childhood heroes of Homast and played a large part in his decision to champion the cause of outhouses.

Homast had no time to think. Since he was slightly closer to DB than Sloppy he knew his only chance to stop the murder was to throw himself in front of the bullet. Without hesitating, this is what he did. The bullet smashed him in the heart. For some reason, Homast had decided that it was not dignified to wear a Wullet, so the bullet that hit his heart proved to be his undoing. He felled limply to the floor, instantly dead, but with the fleeting thought, that he had not died in vain.

Hearing the roar of the gun caught Deep Belly's attention. He turned around and to his astonishment, the man holding the rifle was none other than his old pal, Sloppy!

No, matter, Deep Belly had to act, and quickly, or many others would die also...

+++

Deep Belly's mind, wracked by thoughts of fud not being eaten, tried to make sense of what had just happened. A man, lying dead at his feet, and while his old pal, Sloppy Sam, stood less than twenty feet away, with the rifle in his hands, the same rifle that had shot the man lying at DB's feet.

"It's not really Sloppy."

"Who said that?"

"It's the voice of Texas. As mentioned earlier in the sequel, it was said that I would appear at crucial times in the plot to make significant and timely observations."

"Uh?"

"Just listen to me. That's not Sloppy. It's Mosath Eyskin, evil twin brother of Homast Eyskin, the man lying dead at your feet."

"You mean he shot his own brother!"

"That what happens to you when you no longer have DLS."

"Uh?"

"I am only telling you this so you'll make the right decision. And I'm sure you will."

+++

Mosath felt a twinge of guilt for shooting and killing his brother, but not much. Homast had been too sincere for his own good. Use an outhouse every day! How ludicrous. Once a week was plenty. (The records show that throughout history evil doers have more often than not been constipated.)

But now Mosath was a little uneasy. Deep Belly was still alive and he was facing him which meant DB was now protected by his wullet. All along Mosath knew that killing Deep Belly was a long shot, but scientists at EDI (Evil Doers Institute) in New York City had insisted that a rifle bullet at no more than twenty feet had the chance of entering Deep Belly's heart if he was shot in the back. Homast had screwed everything up!

Oh, oh, Deep Belly was walking toward him...

Chapter 96

DB had eaten three helpings of every selection at Sloppy’s, as the local police force and anyone else who wanted to join in ate up D.B.’s reward for capturing various SO and other criminal suspects. Just as he was beginning another plate of beef ribs, one of the Sloppy’s servers asked D.B., “That tastin’ OK, Mr. Belly?” D.B. said, “Dadgum right. This here’s some real nice barbecue.” The server replied, “Sure glad to hear that. We don’t smoke our own beef, you know. Had that flown in special from Kansas City just this morning.” His face suddenly ashen, D.B. asked, “This here fud’s been flied?” Mosath Eyskin, who was posing as the Sloppy’s server, said, “Oh yes. Long dadgum way.” D.B. fainted and collapsed. The force of his body falling back threw fud across the restaurant, and the picnic table he was seated at began to break apart and D.B. fell to the floor of Sloppy’s.

Mosath Eyskin found himself lodged underneath D.B. This was not supposed to happen! How had yet another plan become completely screwed up? Mosath found it difficult to breathe, and breathing wasn’t necessarily an attractive option. D.B. had obviously skipped a few weekly baths. Mosath began to murmur, since he couldn’t muster enough air to say anything louder, “help me! I’m stuck!” No one could hear, because Mosath’s voice was being muffled by the backside of D.B.

Someone held smelling salts to D.B.’s nose, he began to rouse. Suddenly, Mosath realized how dangerous his position was. D.B. broke wind as his body moved slightly. And what a wind. Mosath had undergone mustard gas training at EDI, but it hadn’t prepared him for this. Mosath felt himself passing out beneath the weight and exhausts of D.B.

After a few minutes, D.B. had regained consciousness. Beulah Faye said, “D.B., there’s nothin’ wrong with that fud! Just get it out of your head that flied fud is gonna make you sick, OK?” D.B. answered, “You sayin’ my mama was lyin’?” Beulah Faye said, “No, she wadn’t lyin’. Airplanes is different now, though. They got a fud box up there to keep it from goin’ bad, see?” D.B. said, “You shore?” Beulah Faye said, “Why sure I’m sure! See, I’m eatin’ this stuff and I’m just fine.”

D.B. said, “Well, shoot, maybe I ain’t a dyin’ as much as I was a thankin’.” D.B. began to roll around on the floor, trying to get up. The movements were breaking bones in Mosath’s body. D.B. said, “Dadgum it, somethin’s pokin’ me!” Irritated by the bones of Mosath that were poking him, D.B. rolled over on them again. Finally, he got to his feet.

Beulah Faye said, “Dadgum, D.B., there was a grown man down there under you!” D.B. said, “Shoot! You reckon he’s gonna be OK? I never felt a dadgum thang!” Beulah Faye called over one of the policemen in the restaurant. “Come here! There’s a feller been hurt!” The chief of police took a close look at Mosath, removing his cook’s hat. He said to D.B., “Dadgum, you’re one lucky feller. They’s a reward on this one too. You done fell on a ten thousand dollar bounty.” D.B. said, “Well, shoot, we better have sum more fud, dadgum it. That passin’ out sure does make me hungry.”

Epilogue

Country was on his fifth plate of pork bbq, hash, and cole slaw. Sloppy remarked, "Damn, Country, if I didn't know better, I'd say

you hadn't eaten in weeks."

"I haven't." Country replied then discovered he was out of hush puppies.

Country had always been a big eater, but a not real big eater, so Sloppy had always thought he had gotten the best of their deal: Country

could eat for free as long as he didn't sing in front of paying customers. Country's songs, which for the most part dealt with death,

destruction, pain, and misery were just not that good for the appetite. Sloppy blurted out, "Dadgummit, Country, if you keep

eating like that, you're going to be as big and fat as a Belly."

Country didn't respond. He did, however, ask for more sweet iced tea.

Sloppy couldn't stay upset for long though. For he had been re-united with his long lost daughter, Maria.

"Maria, I have something to show you. I've been waiting for this day for a long time.

"What is it, Daddy?"

Sloppy motioned for Maria to follow him and together they walked out the back door of Sloppy's restaurant and went past the

barbeque pit. They stopped and Sloppy said softly to Maria, "Look over yonder on the hill."

Maria looked the way Sloppy was pointing. There, not more than an hundred feet away stood the symbol of Texalina's soul: The

Little Outhouse on the Hill.

Maria started crying. Sloppy put his arm around her.  Back in the restaurant, Country hollered, "How about some sweet potatoes!"

+++

In gratitude for stopping the evil, diabolical plans of Mosath Eyskin and his henchmen, the Skinny Ones, the executives of the

new San New-Manse' Wal-Mart SuperCenter presented Deep Belly with a brand new Rolling Outhouse. It was packed

(only adequately in DB's opinion) with moon pies, Shiner Beer, and Elizabeth Post Facial Quality Tissue Paper. It's engine

was based on a 22nd century design brought to the 21st century by S.M. Tubebacher. It was also Geraldo proof.

Deep Belly wondered what the fuss was all about. He had just done what any Belly would have done when faced with starvation.

But if these people wanted to thank him, who was he to say no.

He fired up the engine and drove out of the parking lot. Thousands were cheering him on. He wondered where his

next adventure would be.

In the western North Georgia sky, the sun was setting.

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