LITR 3731 Creative Writing UHCL Presentation Draft 2006

As Jack lay on the bed in his Sunday best, he reflected on the church service he had just attended. Not on the preaching of course. He never did get much out of the preaching. He never could understand where the preacher was going with all that rebirth, forgiveness, new creature, do unto others, and Ten Commandments stuff. No, Jack’s thoughts were on Peggy Sue Weller, and what the heck was it she meant when she said he looked just dandy in his cowboy boots? Jack always had a thing for Peggy Sue. Peggy Sue was built like one of those doll face models you see in the fashion magazines. Joe “Toothpick” Swanson always said Peggy Sue was crass. “What the heck does crass mean?”…..

“Ole Toothpick”, I wonder where he was today? I bet his Grandmother was sick so, he skipped church again to go down to the creek….probably fishing, or swimmin’ or nappin’ underneath one of those big old cotton wood trees. I hope he gets bit by chiggers, or a mosquito, or a beaver or somethin’. The thought of Joe skippin’ church while I had to sit by Mom and Mr. Higgins and listen to his singing made my blood boil.

That Mr. Higgins couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, thought Jack. He couldn’t carry a tune if you put it in his hand with a handle. And by the way, what kind of smell good was that he had on? It stunk like a polecat trapped under a pile of elephant dung. I know that old coot has a thing for my Mom. Man, I ought to go over there and tell him what I think of him, and his tone deaf ear, and his stinky cologne, and his big house, and all his money.

Well, having money would be neat, contemplated Jack. I could buy all kinds of stuff. I bet if I had money Peggy Sue wouldn’t say my boots were dandy. She would probably be comin’ over to my house all the time, and asking me if I liked her new dress, or if I wanted to go to the movies, or kiss or get married or something.

“Jack,” called Ms. Ferguson.

“What is it Mom?”

“Come down here, you have a visitor.”

It’s probably Peggy Sue; coming to tell me she’s sorry for what she said about my boots, Jack thought as he leapt off his bead and headed out the bedroom door.

As Jack rounded the corner to barrel down the stairs he saw a tall slender older man with a full head of gray hair, wearing an expensive looking gray sweater, black trousers, and a new pair of black and white wingtip shoes. The old gent had a black and gold cane in his left hand. The appearance of the stranger with his chiseled face and debonair appearance slowed Jack’s descent to a cautious trudge.

“Hello Jack, nice to meet you,” said the man, his mouth now curving to form a smile.

“Hello,” said Jack in a low tone, still cautious as to the reason for the stranger’s visit.

“Jack, I am pleased to finally see you, you have grown up to be a nice young fella,” said the stranger holding out his right hand.

Jack lowered his head, his eyes slightly squinting. Jack stopped too far back to shake hands with the man.

“Jack, shake your uncle’s hand,” urged his mother.

Jack’s eyes shifted to Mom, his head remained lowered and a puzzled look drew across his face. Slowly Jack extended his hand toward his uncle and stepped forward.

“Jack, it’s really my pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you,” said George.

“That’s funny,” Jack laughed a small forced laugh, “Mom never said anything about you?”

“Oh, Jack,” said his mother, looking at Jack and then turning to George, “he’s such the kidder.” She then turned and began walking towards the kitchen. Reaching the swinging doors she paused, then suggested “Why don’t you boys come into the living room so you can sit and visit while I finish cooking supper.”

After a long grueling silent period, and some meaningless conversation, Jack’s stomach finally began to unclench.

This guy seems like an okay guy, thought Jack, for a stiff shirted, know-it-all wise guy, from the big city of Yazoo, Mississippi.

Yazoo, Mississippi, who ever came up with a name like Yazoo, Mississippi, pondered Jack? Probably some simpleton from some overseas foreign place like Canada, reasoned Jack.

Jack sat staring down at his fork as the aroma of red beans and burnt cornbread mingled together above the dining table.

Red beans, thought Jack, great, I’ll be tootin’ like crazy. What was Mom thinking? How can I impress my Uncle who I didn’t even know I had until 30 minutes ago, if I’m stepping on ducks all night long. I wish I had a dog to blame it on. Darn, I just wish I had a dog. I wish I had a big, playful dog. I wish I had a dog that I could take down to the creek and play fetch with. Yeah, that would be great.

“Jack, are you going to sit there all night long, or are you going to eat your supper?” questioned Ms. Ferguson.

“Sorry Mom,” replied Jack. “I was just wishing I had a dog.”

“Funny you would mention that Jack” interjected Uncle George, “because I have a wonderful old dog, and she’s just about to have a litter of pups.”

Jack looked up from his beans. “What kind of dog is she Uncle?”

“Oh, she is a mix breed, a little of this and a little of that. She is actually quite playful. She loves to play fetch. My housekeeper once said she thought she would be the best Mom of any dog she had ever known.

“Wow,” exclaimed Jack. Deep in the recesses of Jack’s brain ran the thought, Now, that’s weird. “Mom, do you think I could have one of her pups?”

Ms. Ferguson smiled. “Jack, your Uncle didn’t offer you one of the pups. He only said…”

“Shirley,” interjected George, “I would love for Jack to have one of her pups.”

Jack began to smile.

“Jack, we’ll talk about this later,” exclaimed Shirley Ferguson. “Now it’s time for you to get up to your room and finish up your studies.”

“Mom!” Jack blurted.

“Don’t Mom me Mr…Now get up to your room. I need to talk to your Uncle.”

Jack knew better than to argue with his Mom. Her backhand could stop a charging rhinoceros. Jack rose from the table, picked up his plate, and silverware, carried them to the kitchen sink before making his way back up the stairs to begin his arduous study session slash daydreaming regimen.

The next morning Jack awoke to the smell of bodily flatulence. I hate beans, thought Jack, as he slid out of bed, his feet hitting the cold wooden floor of the old farm house. Wow, that’ll wake you up in the morning, the thought shot through Jack’s brain as he began to put more weight on his feet, his backside released more of the pent up gasses. Jack shuffled across the floor to his closet, slipped into his favorite cotton shirt and his new pair of overalls.

“Morning Jack,” said Uncle George, leaning his head into Jack’s room. “Did you sleep well?” the old gentleman said and smiled as he took another step into the room. George was already dressed and ready for the day.

“Hey Uncle George,” responded Jack. “I slept fair to midland.” Jack scratched his backside and then brushed his hair out of his face.

“Son, I need to talk to you about something.” His voice was different now. It sounded serious. “Come, sit by me son.” George reclined on the bed.

Jack didn’t like his uncle calling him son. He barely knew this guy. Jack’s stomach began to tighten as he made his way back across the room.

“Jack, you know things haven’t been easy on your Mom since your Dad passed.” Jack nodded in agreement. I don’t like where this is headed, thought Jack. Jack could feel the room closing in, and his heart began to pound. Jack could hear the sound of his heart beating in his ears, and wondered if his uncle could hear it too.

“Jack, your mother has asked me to care for you for a while, until things get better.”

“What? Care for me? I can care for myself! And, and, and I told Dad I would take care of Mom!” Jack’s voice was now strong and loud.

“Jack, calm down, son,” expounded Uncle George.

ON THE ROAD WITH UNCLE GEORGE

Jack gazed out the window of the new car as he and his uncle bounded down the old dirt road, with a cloud of dust rolling behind. As Jack looked out across the grass lands of Texas he could see cows grazing in the fields, and occasionally a rabbit scampering, darting this way and that, startled from the sound of their automobile. Jack could feel the sweat rolling down his back. Man is it hot, the thought coming to Jack as he felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead and roll down his face. I wonder how hot it is in hell. It can’t be any hotter than it is in this car. Man, this is one long, boring drive. I wonder what Peggy Sue Weller is doing? I wonder if she always wears pretty dresses or if she ever dressed in overalls to go frog giggin’? I wonder what “Toothpick” was up to? He’s probably sitting with his Grandma rubbing her bunions, or something like that. Maybe his mother is making him play paper dolls with his little sister, or maybe his Dad has him diggin’ a hole for a new tree. I hope he’s digging a big ole hole and he looses his footage and falls right in it. That would be hilarious. The thought brought a chuckle to Jack’s mouth.

“What’s so funny son?” questioned George, taking his eyes off the road to glance in Jack’s direction.

“Nothing, just missing home,” expressed Jack. “Uncle, when are we getting to Yazoo, Mississippi?” asked Jack.

“Well Jack, not for a while,” said George. “First, we are headed to Dallas to take care of some business.”

Jack left off speaking with his uncle and began to ponder again. I wonder what my new puppy will look like. I hope he’s a yellow dog; I always wanted a yellow dog. I hope when he gets full grown he’s a big dog. I hope when I take him for a walk he enjoys goin’ down to the creek as much as I do. I hope Mom likes him. Speaking of Mom, I wonder what she’s doing. As I look at Dad’s old pocket watch, I see that it’s three p.m.; she’s still at work at Grumble’s Five and Dime. She’s probably sweeping the floors, or stocking the shelves, or maybe she’s being robbed? That would be crazy. I think I would like to be a robber one day. I would carry one of those automatic Rifle guns like Bonnie and Clyde, and I’d go around robbing banks, and steeling cars and I wouldn’t have to go to church or school. My picture would be in the post office and Mr. J Edgar Hoover would chase me all over the country. Peggy Sue Weller would think I was keen if Mr. Hoover was chasing me. Peggy Sue would probably want to be my girlfriend and kiss me, and ride around with me in my stolen car.

ON THE ROAD IN DALLAS, TEXAS

As the 1932 Hudson manufactured Essex Terraplane automobile rambled down the streets of Dallas, Jack looked up at the tall buildings, some of them ten maybe even fifteen stories high. Jack had never seen a city like this. The city was quite busy with people hustling and bustling all around, and cars chattering up and down the brick streets. A horn blared from a nearby truck hauling a load of cattle. As they drove by the county court house, Jack thought, so that’s what the state capital building looks like.

Jack’s uncle brought the car to a stop outside a large brick building. Across the front of the building was a sign that read, “First National Bank of Dallas”.

“Jack, stay here, I have some business to ‘tend to. I’ll be back shortly,” stated Uncle George as he stepped out of the car.

Jack waited until his uncle was inside the bank before exiting the automobile. He strolled around the car, and then ventured down the sidewalk a little ways. Just past the bank Jack could see a soda shop. His uncle had given him a quarter earlier in the day, and it seemed like it was burning a hole in his pocket. Jack strolled confidently into to the soda shop and plopped down on a stool in front of the soda jerk.

“I’ll have a soda pop,” announced George, loud enough to be heard through the entire shop.

Unimpressed the old geezer behind the bar asked Jack if he had the capital to finance such an indulgence.

Jack slammed his quarter on the bar and grinned at the old man. “What’d ya think of that old timer?” Jack said smiling smugly.

The elderly gentleman smirked and rolled his eyes. The clerk took the quarter and handed Jack two dimes and his drink of choice.

Jack spied out the room, his keen eye lighting on a young lady approximately his age. She wore a long red and white dress with an apron covering the front. Based on the fact that she had a broom in her hand Jack surmised that she worked in this joint. Wowzer she’s a looker, thought Jack. Why she’s better lookin’ than that ole’ Peggy Sue Weller ever thought about. I wish I had a girl friend like that. I’d take her fishin’, and frog giggin’, and we’d go throw rocks at snakes, or ride bicycles, or kiss or something. I wish I had a bicycle. I bet that girl wouldn’t think my boots are dandy. She probably thinks I’m some city slicker, rich guy, in here spending my family fortune. With that thought Jack finished the last of his soda, slammed the glass down on the counter and marched over to the young lass of his recent obsession.

“Hi Doll,” said Jack.

“Hi yourself,” responded the young lady.

Wow, she’s even better looking close up, thought Jack. He began to get nervous. His heart began to pound. He swallowed hard.

“My names JJJJJJJJack,” he stuttered. This wasn’t going like he planned.

“Name’s Liz. Those are sure some dandy boots your wearing,” she said beginning to laugh.

Jack could feel his ego shrinking to the size of a split pea. To avoid any further unpleasantries Jack turned and ran out of the shop, down the side walk and to his uncle’s automobile. Entering the vehicle Jack slumped down until he was no longer visible.

“I hate these boots,” lamented Jack aloud.

Soon his uncle returned from the bank and once again the two found themselves heading out on the open road.

COMING HOME TO YAZOO

As the Hudson rambled up the drive past the long row of trees, Jack could see his Uncle’s abode in the distance. The setting sun cast long shadows upon the large open, front lawn. The grass surrounding the home was well manicured, and the shrubbery appeared almost too perfect to be real.

As the car rounded the circular driveway, a tall, strikingly beautiful woman, elegantly strolled down the front steps of the home toward the car. The woman appeared to be slightly younger than Uncle George, and her long blond hair seemed to float in the air behind her.

“Oh George,” exclaimed the woman, “I’ve missed you so much.” Quickly the woman made her way around the car to George’s door.

As Uncle George exited the vehicle the two embraced.

The sight of their expression of love caused Jack to look away in embarrassment. Glancing the other way, Jack caught the sight of George’s housekeeper, but more importantly, eight new puppies which bounded at her feet. Jack darted from the vehicle and up the front steps. He crouched to his knees and began petting the playful canines.

A few difficult weeks passed, and Jack became accustom to his new home. He had settled on taking ownership of one of the pups; the largest of the litter, a yellow one with brown eyes, and a white belly. Jack wanted to name him Buddy or Jay after J. Edgar Hoover, but his Aunt Nichole convinced him to name the hound Fred.

One morning as Jack and Fred played in the front yard, Jack was startled to hear a voice yell out from over the hedge row to the north of the house. Jack crouched down low, “Hey boy, hide,” Jack grunted at his pup as he darted behind a tree. “Get down Fred, it’s probably dirty ole’ revenuers, come to bust us for running white lightning!” Jack exclaimed, as if Fred could understand or even cared.

“I see you over there,” came the voice again from behind the hedge row.

Jack peered out from behind the tree, trying to determine the voice’s point of origin. About that time a rock smacked the tree shielding Jack.

“What the heck! Are you crazy?” exclaimed Jack, pulling his head back around to take cover.

“Just playin’ around,” responded the voice, and then began to laugh.

Jack could tell this was girl! “Hey you dumb girl, quit throwing rocks. You could hurt really hurt somebody you know,” Jack warned his temper rising.

“First of all, I’m not girl, I’m a lady. Second, I’m not throwing rocks; I got a new sling shot. And third… I hit what I aim for,” answered the girl, as another rock slammed into Jack’s tree.

“Ding-dang-it! Would you cut that out?” George howled. The sound of his exclamation startled Fred causing him to bolt for the house.

“Hey, that’s a nice dog you got,” complimented the sniper girl.

“Thanks,” expressed Jack, still taking cover behind the old oak tree. “He’s really quite mean.”

“He don’t look mean. He looks cute to me. I’ll quit slinging rocks at ya if ya let me pet him.”

“Well,” Jack thought for a moment, “Okay, you can pet him.” Giving in to her desire was simply a ploy. When she comes over here I’m going to slap the snot out of her, thought Jack.

Jack could hear rustling coming from up in the big oak in the yard next to his. He cautiously peered around the tree to see a redheaded girl in blue overalls descending the trunk.

Shortly the mystery girl crawled through a small opening at the bottom of the hedge row and ambled up to Jack.

As Jack sized up the young lass, his heart softened. Now that’s what I call a girl, thought Jack. She had fiery red hair, and a face full of freckles. She could have used a pencil to pick her front teeth, but her smile was cute. It seemed to hide a more devious side. Jack estimated her age to be that of his.

The two spent the rest of the day playing with Fred, shooting Clair’s sling shot, and chasing frogs down by the creek. At the end of the day, Jack tried for a kiss, but got a face full of fist. As Jack tried to recover from the blow, Clair informed him there would be none of that, but she would like to go frog giggin’ if he was up to it tomorrow.