The Feet of God

75 - LOVING THY NEIGHBOR

Jimmy-Bob vigorously scrubbed me with the kerosene mop while Slim poured beer down the hatch.  This time the treatment had a strange effect of cooling my skin off instead of making me hot.  Meanwhile, I strained at my bindings so’s not to miss a drop of the golden brew.

Jimmy-Bob spoke as he wiped, “You said you was headed to Florida, is that correct?  I think we might’a secured you some transportation.”

“Why, thank-y Jimmy-Bob.”  This was an unexpected piece of good news.  “That’s real thoughtful of you to be thinking of me like that.”

Jimmy-Bob turned and popped another cold one.  “It ain’t exactly a free ride.”

Lord forgive me, I coughed out a mouthful of free beer.  “What do you mean it ain’t exactly free?”

As Jimmy-Bob put away the raggedy washing stick Slim cut in, “The Cirque De Bizarro comes through these parts every year.  It’s what ya might call a roadshow with a bunch’a tattooed pierced hippies who couldn’t get a job if they enlisted in the Army.  They do lotsa weird shit, like that guy who eats metal, or that big fat woman who farts pop music songs.”

Through my swollen slotted eyes I looked around the room.  “You’re giving me the bum’s rush to some bunch of oddballs and freaks?”

“Now that ain’t no way to look at it,” Slim answered.

Jimmy-Bob gave Slim an elbow, “I’ll handle this.”  Jimmy-Bob smiled down at me.  “Now that ain’t no way to look at it at all.  We have given you nothing but the milk of human kindness, seeing you through this medical emergency of yours, and providing a lot of beer to ease your discomfort.  We only had your best interests at heart when we negotiated a ride for your departure.”

Jimmy-Bob turned to Slim, “Check with Maybelline and see if everything’s ready.”

I looked up at Jimmy-Bob with my eyes and mouth as wide open as they could manage under the circumstances.  He took over from Slim and guided the thin stream of beer down my gullet.  The last of the brew dripped out about the same time Slim returned carrying what appeared to be a pile of laundry.  He set the clothes down and pulled out a large striped towel.

I was actually warming up to the idea of moving on with a carnival-on-wheels.  Show business ran in my blood.  And I didn’t wanna be disrespectful to the hospitality these folks had shown me, restoring my faith in the love of man.  “I appreciate you guys doing all the things you done by me.  And I figure I owe you, even if I can only pay you back with a few words of thanks.”

Jimmy-Bob began to release me from my trusses and said, “Now lay still while I make sure you dried off proper.  Don’t want any excess of kerosene in your clothes.”

My ears perked up.  Clothes?  Even if it was some stranger’s hand-me-downs, I was pleased to know I would be properly attired before hitting the road again.

Jimmy-Bob dabbed me with the towel all over, and I felt like a new washed baby.  He even pulled a shaker of baby powder off the stack of clothes and sprinkled me all over so my skin didn’t look so cracked and angry.

“You lay there and we’ll help get you presentable.”  He picked up a foot and Slim picked up a foot and they rolled a white cotton sock onto each one.  Then they helped me into a pair of yellow boxer shorts one leg at a time.  Finally they helped me sit up on the edge of the table like after a medical examination.

As I sat up for the first time since they began my cure, something caught my eye.  I looked over Jimmy-Bob’s shoulder and pointed, “Who’s that?”

Jimmy-Bob turned and squinted, “Who’s who?  I don’t see nobody.”

Whoever or whatever it was, it was gone in a flash.

Jimmy-Bob turned to me, “Come on now, lemme help you get into these clean pants.”

The pants he helped me into was much softer and more comfortable than them smelly, stained ol’ greasy things I put on in the back of Slim’s truck.  For this I was eternally grateful.

Jimmy-Bob helped me slip on an extra-large black T-shirt.  “The Good Book teaches we should help a neighbor in need,” he explained.  “Clothe the naked, do unto others as the Golden Rule says.  You can give a man a fish, but if he can learn how to catch a fish he can gut and clean all he can eat without need for charity.”

Seems I heard stuff like this before in Sunday sermons long ago, and it confused me then just like it confuses me now.  But I played along.  “No truer words, Jimmy-Bob, no truer words.”

Slim handed me another beer as Jimmy-Bob laughed, “You’ll be sunnin’ your lily white butt in Florida before you even know it.  Just be sure you don’t expose yourself to no third-degree sunburns down there.”

I raised my can.

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