The Feet of God

98 - ANGEL OF THE MORNING

Suddenly it was light, but my eyelids was riveted shut against the blinding glare of the morning sun.  I detected the faint hum of an electric motor folding the convertible top back.

“Huh?”  I squinted and blinked, trying to shield my eyes in all the light.  I awoke to find myself reclined on the passenger side of a car, and the first thing I could make out was the blonde babe peering down at me.

“Here we are.”  She pulled over to a curb.  “Hit the road, Jack.”

She didn’t look so pretty in the early light, but I guess I should’a expected as much.

“Whoa, I fell asleep?  The last thing I remember…hey, wait a minute.”

She leaned across me and opened the door.  “Start walking.”

I noticed we was stopped by the edge of a filling station with gas pumps, palm trees, and cars and trucks whizzing by.

The blonde driver took a moment to primp and preen in the rear view mirror.  She applied a ton of red lipstick before smacking her crimson lips on a Kleenex.  She poofed her hair with a few hand strokes then threw a scarf over her head and tied it tight.  She put on big dark sunglasses and turned to stare direct at me.  (This woman reminded me of them Hollywood celebrities that everyone says is still sexy after forty, when the truth is they just don’t look too horrible in the dark.)

“Okay, okay, I’m off,” I waved my hands.

Pretty lousy wakeup call, if you was to ask me.  I put one foot forward on the ground and then the other after that, and I pulled myself up to a standing position next to her Mustang.  The blonde woman drove away wavin’ one hand high in the air, and I noticed the tissue paper in her hand as she let it fly, and damn, if the breeze didn’t blow that piece of litter straight to my feet.  I picked up this small memento of our night together, and looked at the round red outlines of a kiss.

I watched her pull away from the gas station and head out on the road, where she promptly stopped next to some guy with his thumb out.  His brown arms dangled over the car door, and they exchanged a few words.  He let himself in.  And off they raced together.  Tramp.

Well, at least it was warm and sunny, and there was nice palm trees all around, so I guessed this must be the place.  Florida.  I wiped sweat off my face with an unused edge of the Kleenex and headed toward the gas station.  I passed a booth where an attendant sat idly behind tinted bullet-proof plastic, and I strode purposefully toward the door marked Men.

A loud voice announced over a squawk box, “Customers only.”

I hollered back, “I was with the lady in the silver convertible.  Didn’t she buy any gas?”

“She didn’t pay, exactly.”

“But I gave her money.”

“I’m sure.  How come I didn’t see you?”

“What’s it to you?  Look, I just need to drop a deuce and I’ll be on my way.”  I tried to force a smile, hoping he’d take some pity, but I sure didn’t appreciate getting the third-degree from some minimum-wage gas jock.

I could hear him snickering inside the protective booth.

“Can I use your shitcan or what?  I can do my business right here in broad daylight if ya want.”  (My patience was being sorely tested by this asshole, and it was hard pretending to be polite.)

I heard the buzzer to the men’s room door.

I opened the door to the filthy toilet and freshened up.  Afterwards, I stopped by the attendant’s armored booth to find out precisely where I was.  “Is this Florida?”

“You are in the Sunshine State.  Northeast of Niceville and just northwest of Defuniek.  Stick out your thumb and if you don’t get arrested you’ll get to I-10, and the world is yours to own.”

I looked at all the passing vehicles and sized up the situation, and I figured it should be pretty easy for me to hitch a ride from here.

“Where you headed?” the microphone voice probed.

“I expect to find my long-lost baby sister somewhere hereabouts, if it’s any of your business.”

I heard the attendant’s snickers, but I chose to ignore him.  I left the pumping station behind for the road ahead.  The sky was blue, the air was getting hotter, and the traffic’s fumes and vapors filled my nostrils.  It sure felt like home to me.

Popular posts from this blog

The Feet of God

67 - ONE IOTA OF DIFFERENCE It was turning light outside and morning dew sparkled like glass beads.   It was time for me to go.   I tucked the gun back with the stacks of bills stashed inside Yeller Tom’s leather case, then headed over to a gravel path that snaked downhill toward two lanes of asphalt where I might hitch a new ride. While walking along the path a white pebble landed at my feet.   I didn’t know I had company.   I looked back and saw an old man and woman tossing away whitewashed stones from the second letter E in BIBLE HELL.   (I figured there wasn’t much for kids to do around here except maybe Fentanyl, alcohol, screwin’ their first-cousins, and pull’n practical jokes like this.) “Hey, up there, watch out!” I shouted, as a flung white rock hit me above the eye. The elderly couple stood up in a shock of surprise, almost as if they was caught red-handed do ’ n something wrong. “Sorry, friend.   We were cleansing away some smut.” ...
Read more

The Feet of God

64 - HATE TO EAT AND RUN I watched Madame and Yeller Tom grow smaller and smaller until they vanished through the swing door back of the pastry counter.   My head rolled backwards and my eyes saw above me countless holes in ceiling tiles moving, breathing, expanding, shrinking...damn, this was some kinda special cream cheese. I then heard a voice, “Jeebus, how much didja eat?”   It was the bear of an airplane mechanic, Chuck.   He’d entered the bakery shop and sauntered over to the coffee stand and poured a cup.   “Here, drink this, it’ll help pull you together.” I fought to stay focused as I held the hot mug.   “You’re no barrel of laughs,” I cracked myself up.   “Mr. Grease Monkey.”   I doubled over laughing. “Just drink,” the huge man ignored my convulsions of idiotic laughter.   He grabbed a folding chair and sat down beside me.   “You’re gonna be stuck in that plane with Tom for hours, y’know, and you don’t wanna be flying high...
Read more

The Feet of God

59 - RENDEZVOUS The only other airplane I been on had a toilet.   If I knew what I was getting into, maybe I would’a passed on having those last six beers. I hollered up to the captain, “Hey, I gotta piss.” No reaction.   I shouted louder, “I said, I gotta piss.” Yeller Tom turned his head slightly, “What is your wish?” “Piss!”   I tried shoutin’ it in French, “I gotta peeez!” “Oh,” he twisted around in his seat and held out a funnel connected to a length of garden hose.   “You can use this.   An in-flight courtesy.   No charge.” I reached out and grabbed the funnel and hose.   “ Mercy ,” I thanked him in my best parlay-voo. I’ll be damned if I didn’t find a silver dollar-sized hole in the floor of the plane right between my legs, just like truckers use so they don’t gotta stop while traveling down long stretches of highway.   I made all the familiar arrangements and begun my own version of an aerial attack.   After I finished...
Read more