Fools Motley Magazine

by Randy Tanner

As morning approached, the chatter of cheap café china filled the interior of Ruby’s Route 70 Diner. Steeped in smells of sausage, coffee and hot maple syrup, the air resonated with the sound of a wailing jukebox.

A shapely blond waitress in a too tight, too short, too pink uniform delivered an oversized mug to a solitary man at a table for four. He yawned and tapped a menu on the table.

“Thanks Nadine.” He stretched out gangly legs, adjusted a faded green John Deere baseball cap over graying red hair and smiled through a set of well-used teeth.

“You’re welcome, Dub.”

He planted an elbow on a worn spot on the table, took a long sip and watched her walk away. The thrum of wooden chair on linoleum announced a new arrival. Dub turned and bobbed his head. “Morning, R. J.”

“You hear the news?” R. J.’s overhanging paunch jiggled as he adjusted a large silver belt buckle in preparation for taking a seat.

Dub returned a confused glance.

The chair groaned a bit as R. J. deposited his bulk on it. He smiled and brushed back the few remaining strands of black hair on his olive-tanned head. “Cement plant’s expanding. Heard they’ll hire fifty, maybe more.”

“Fifty?” Dub raised both furry eyebrows and took another sip of coffee. “That’s good, real good.”

“Carol read it in the Amarillo paper this morning,” R. J. said. “It’s cause of all the construction and everything. Got to have concrete if you’re going to build things.” He examined the menu for a few moments, nodded and stuck it back between the sugar and napkin dispenser. “Anything new with you?”

Dub shook his head. “No, not really.” There was an extended silence. Dub cocked back his hat and peered out the window. “Oh, understand they took Jack Tatum last night.”

R. J. opened the newspaper and examined the headlines. “Jack Tatum? Was he the old boy with the green double-wide?”

Dub nodded.

“What did he come back with?” R. J. asked.

Before Dub could answer, a petite man wearing white shirt, jeans, cowboy boots and an excessive amount of Old Spice took a seat next to R. J.

Dub adjusted his hat. “Morning Travis.”

Travis took his seat and grabbed a menu.

“Hear the news?” R. J. asked.

Travis smiled. “About the cement plant?”

R. J. nodded.

“I think I’ll run down there today and fill out an application,” Travis said.

There was another silence as the men considered nothing in particular.

“Dub told me they took Jack Tatum last night,” R. J. said.

“Jack Tatum?” Travis asked. “Was that his first?”

R. J. shrugged and shook his head.

“Could have swore they took him once before.” He replaced the menu. “What did he get?”

Dub shook his head. “Hard to say this early, but I’d imagine it’ll either be mind reading or, you know, the thing where he can heal things with your hands.”

“Oh man, I hope he don’t get the healin’ power,” Travis said.

“Why is that?” R. J. asked.

“Well, they took Walt Barnell a few months back. You remember Walt, don’t you?”

They nodded.

“Well, the next day after they took him, he found out he could heal wounds and the like. Then, that weekend, he went deer hunting down at Haystack Mountain. First thing opening morning he brought down an eight point buck. Just as he was trying to gut the thing out, he put his hand on it and healed it. The damn thing jumped up and ran off. Had to hire a kid to carry his knife from then on.” He shook his head. “Real shame.”

All three men shook their heads in unison.

“Made up your minds yet?” Nadine stood at the ready, light green order pad in hand.

Travis pointed at something on the menu and looked up at the woman. She nodded.

“I’ll have the regular,” R. J. said.

She nodded, wrote something on her pad and walked away. A moment later she returned with a pot of coffee. All three men held out their cups until they were filled.

“Hear about the cement plant,” R. J. asked.

Nadine nodded. “Ought to be good for business.” She smiled and walked away.

“I thought Walt got the mind reading thing,” Travis said.

Dub shook his head. “No, that was Jack Walters.”

Travis pondered for a moment. “You sure about that.”

Dub nodded. “Sure, don’t you remember? The week after he got it, he moved out from his wife. Then he had to find a place out in the desert just so he could get a good night sleep. Said the voices in his head was about to drive him nuts. I went out to visit him about a month ago and he wouldn’t even come to the door. Real shame.”

Silence again hung in the air.

Dub adjusted his cap and leaned back in his chair. “I wonder if they’ll be bringing on any jobbers. I ought to run out there and talk to the plant manager today.”

“I thought you said you had enough work to keep you busy for the next five years,” R. J. interjected.

Dub nodded. “Can’t have too much work these days. No one knows how long this building boom will hold out.”

“Come on,” Travis said, “You already got more money than that Sultan of Brown Eye.” He let out a woodpecker-like chuckle.

Dub just sat back and smiled. “Never know. Might need some part time help.”

Travis raised his eyebrows. “Well, in that case I just might go out there with you. You remember I got code certified last month?”

“I remember.” He sipped his coffee. “That reminds me, were you ever able to weld those pieces of the one that crashed out by Bottomless Lake?”

Travis shook his head. “Never could get it to arc. Couldn’t cut it with a torch or even dent it with a three-pound hammer. When I’d hit it with a hot rod, it wouldn’t even give me a spark. Damndest thing I ever saw. Must have been made from some kind of metal I never seen before. Why’d you ask?”

“I was thinking we might be able to build a new wheelbarrow out of it. One I’ve got weighs a ton. That stuff was light as a feather. What did you ever do with it?”

“I don’t know. I think I took it with a load of stuff to the dump.”

Dub nodded and took another sip of coffee. The trio sat in silence for nearly a minute.

“You’re cousin got the mind reading thing, didn’t he?” Dub asked.

“Andy?” Travis shook his head. “No, not exactly. The day after they took him, he started getting instructions to build something. So we stuffed a football helmet full of aluminum foil for him to wear during the day. That pretty much stopped the messages.”

Dub nodded. “So that’s why he wears that thing all the time. Man, it’s got to be uncomfortable to wear a football helmet all day. Why doesn’t he just wear an aluminum hat or something?”

Travis chuckled and shook his head. “Aluminum hat? He don’t want to look like an idiot.”

Dub nodded. “How does he sleep?”

“Well, we built this little aluminum foil cubbyhole for him to stick his head in at night. Seems to work okay.”

“Well, what was it?” R. J. asked.

“What was what?”

R. J. sighed. “What was it the messages were telling him to build?”

Travis looked away for a moment. “Not real sure. All I know is what happened to that old boy out of Escondido about five or six years back. Can’t remember his name, but the messages told him to build a globe looking thing, and he followed all the instructions to a ‘T’.”

“What happened,” R. J. asked.

“Well, as soon as he gets the thing finished, it lights up like the sun. It must have been a thousand degrees hot. Tried to put it in a truck to haul it off, but it melted right through the bed. Finally found some old asbestos, loaded it up and hauled it out to the desert. Dug a hole and buried it.”

Dub nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that. Last I heard, the damn thing was still burning. Melted about ten tons worth of sand and rock. Never be able to use that land for anything again.”

“Real shame,” R. J. said.

All three men nodded and sat in silence for nearly a minute. Travis picked up the sports section of the newspaper and examined it for a moment. He scratched his head. “You ever wonder what those old boys say to each other in that big pile after they sack the quarterback?”

Dub shot back a confused glance. “No, not really. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was watching the Denver game this weekend and wondered what those guys say to each other. I mean, you just knocked the crap out of some guy you don’t even know? Do you apologize or what?”

Dub shook his head and sighed.

“How you boys doing this morning?” A gray haired man in overalls took the remaining seat at the table.

Dub adjusted his cap. “Morning Burt.”

Burt sat down, turned over his coffee cup and picked up a menu.

“So, what do you think about all those new jobs at the plant?” R. J. asked.

Burt sighed. “I don’t know. I’ll believe it when I see it. I’ve been there seven years now and I’ve never seen them deliver on anything they promised. I think they’re probably just doing it so they’ll look good for the bank. We heard they were having trouble getting the loan for the expansion.”

Travis frowned. “So, they aren’t going to hire fifty new people?”

Burt raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “I doubt it. And if they do, they probably bring them up from Mexico or something.”

The table quieted as Nadine delivered another round of coffee.

“You probably ought to run out here and fill out an application though. I imagine they’ll need welders for the construction.”

Travis smiled and nodded.

“Who’s the plant manager out there now?” Dub asked.

Burt poured a stream of sugar into his coffee. “They haven’t replaced the position since Gus passed, but you could probably talk to Eldon Wycliff. He’s pretty much doing everything Gus did.”

Dub nodded. “How’s his son doing?”

“What happened to Eldon’s son?” R. J. asked.

Burt sighed. “He was out fishing and got caught under some kind of light beam or something. Everyone thought he was okay, but then, that night, we noticed he was glowing.”

“Glowing?”

Burt nodded. “Like a lime-green nightlight. You could nearly read a newspaper by him.”

“Dang,” Travis whispered.

“It was nice to have him along for night fishing and all. Seemed to attract the crappie like a magnet. But his girlfriend wouldn’t have anything to do with him once she saw him in the dark. For a while he thought it was funny, but then he realized it wasn’t going to wear off.”

“Shame,” Dub whispered.

“Yeah,” Burt continued, “he scrubbed himself so hard he must have took off six layers of skin. The HMO doctor told him it was just a skin allergy or something. Last I heard he was taking those Prozac pills and living by himself.”

“He still at the plant?” Travis asked.

Burt nodded. “Yeah, but they won’t let him work the night shift because they say he distracts everyone. One of the Indian fellers named Dave thinks he’s an evil spirit. Every time he sees him, he tries to rub this salve on him that smells like cow pee or something.”

“I wonder what’s in it,” Travis asked.

Burt sighed. “Don’t know, but I’d guess a good part of it’s cow pee.”

R. J. chuckled. “That’s nothing. You remember Alec Belton?”

“Is he that big old boy from Caprock with the white beard?” Dub asked.

Burt nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“I thought he died.”

Burt pondered for a moment. “No, not that I heard.”

“What happened to him?”

“Well, he was out at Orchard Park, doing a little spotlighting.”

“I thought that was against the law,” Travis interrupted.

Dub nodded. “Anyway, there was this ray of light that hit him and knocked him down to the ground. Said it was a full two hours before he could get up.”

“Did he glow in the dark, too?” Travis asked.

Dub shook his head. “Said he was kind of wobbly for a while, but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

“Well, he drives himself back to town and decides he needs a couple of beers to settle his nerves over the thing and all. So, he goes down to the all-night IGA. Then, as he’s walking through the aisles, he bends down to pick up a can of beer nuts and eighty-four bags of microwave popcorn begin to go off like strings of Chinese firecrackers.”

“He have to pay for ‘em?” Travis asked.

“Every damn one of them.” Dub paused. “Then, the next day at work, he walks by old Elvin Burkey and sends his pacemaker into double time. Elvin starts dancing around the plant floor and makin’ noises like a duck, and before it’s all over, Elvin’s in the emergency room and Alec’s in the supervisor’s office.”

“What’d they do to him?” Travis asked.

“Sent him home. Couldn’t afford to have someone all charged up with whatever he was charged up with around all the equipment there at the plant.”

“Real shame,” Travis said. “What’s he doing now?”

Dub shook his head. “Last I heard, he was on unemployment until they could figure out what it is he has. Maybe then he can get disability or something. They were thinking about wrapping a cable around him to keep him grounded while he was at work, but I don’t know if that ever worked out. Can’t do much at home either. His TV blew up first time he tried to turn it on. Now he spends most of his time in a lawn chair out in his back yard.”

There was an extended silence.

Travis emptied his cup and sighed deeply. “They took me once, you know,” he said in a near whisper.

Dub looked at R. J. and rolled his eyes. R. J. looked back and nodded imperceptibly.

“They hit me with the light beam too,” Travis continued. For a moment he considered his coffee and then gazed out the window.

“I was out late one night, driving back from the Saratoga Club, and I had a blowout. Boy, it was dark out that night. Could hardly see your hand in front of your face.

“Anyway, as I was walking back to town, I heard this strange humming noise from up in the air. Sounded like, well, you know, humming. I looked around and saw this thing up in the sky. It was round and about as big as one of those oil storage tanks. As soon as I saw it I started running for cover, but there wasn’t any. I just sat down on the ground and covered my head.

“Then, after the longest time, I didn’t hear the humming anymore. Thought I was safe. So I got up and started to walk back to my pickup and this light beam flashed on from up in the sky. Couldn’t move or anything. Next thing I know I was floating up towards something in the air. That was the last thing I remembered.

He paused and took a deep breath. The rest of the group sat stone faced, as if they were trying to seem interested.

“Next thing I know it was two days later and I was wandering around naked in the parking lot of a Dairy Queen outside Duncan, Wyoming. I kept telling people my name was Chor Ziki and that I offered the path to enlightenment, whatever that meant. I didn’t have the foggiest idea how I got there or what happened to me for them two days. Lucky for me, there was this girl there who helped me out until I got my senses back. Then she got me some clothes and loaned me the money to get a bus ticket back here.

“When I got back I couldn’t sleep or eat. I lost my job cause I was afraid to go to work, and worst of all, nobody believed me. Hell, as far as anyone here was concerned, I went on a two day drunken binge or something.”

Dub sighed. “You got to admit, it does sound a little hard to believe.”

Travis shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“Okay, what did you come back with?” Dub asked.

Travis sighed and shook his head. “Okay, not much. I had this rash down in my groin area that wouldn’t go away. And I had really bad gas for about a month.”

“But you couldn’t heal people or read minds or pop corn in your hand?”

Travis shook his head. “Well, no, but who says you got to come back with something special like that? Maybe they decide that some people should just come back with what they got. Or maybe I got something that nobody’s smart enough to figure out what I got.”

"Like what?” Burt asked.

“I don’t know. But you’re probably not smart enough to figure out what it is. All I know is that if I had enough money I’d pack up all my stuff and move away from this place. I’m tired of all these goings on, and I can’t think of one person it’s helped. I think we’d all be better off if they went back where they came from.”

Dub nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d have to agree with you on that one. Nothing good has come out of this.”

Nadine appeared holding a large circular tray filled with plates of eggs, sausage and pancakes. “Nothing good’s come out of what?” she asked.

“Nothing important.” Dub pointed to his near full cup. “Could you warm me up here?”

After depositing a plate in front of each man, she moved around to Travis. “You’re not thinking about leaving again, are you, hon?”

Travis paused for a moment. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m not even sure who I am anymore.”

She bent down to ear level. “Well, listen here Chor Ziki, if you leave, how am I going to find enlightenment?”

Travis’ face took on a reddish hue. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing emerged.

“Tell you what,” she continued. “I’ll plan something real special for our afternoon session. Something you’ll remember for a long time. Then you can make up your mind about leaving this place.” She smiled, grabbed her tray and walked away.

For several moments, Travis sat smugly while he sipped his coffee. Wide eyed, the rest of the group waited quietly.

He took a deep breath. “Well, now that I think about it, everywhere got its problems. I suppose it could be a lot worse.” He smiled and began to eat. “Besides, how will people find Chor Ziki if he don’t stay in one place?”

END

Published by Fools Motley Magazine, 2003. All rights are property of the author. Copying and distribution of this work is prohibited. Webpage designed by Fools Motley Magazine based on templates from www.angelfire.com . Images provided by www.coolarchive.com .