The Feet of God

74 - DOCTOR’S ORDERS

I came to again, and I heard Jimmy-Bob say, “Well, we’ll let him dry off for an hour or so then do him up again.  See how quick the kerosene evaporates off?  He’ll dry out real clean.”

I didn’t open my eyes.  I figured I’d get more information if they thought I wasn’t quite all there.

Slim said, “Whattaya say we go on over to the Pump & Dump and restock our beer supply?”

“Gonna need some more kerosene, too.”

I laid on that table and felt my whole body tingle and burn.  Slim and Jimmy-Bob’s voices begun to fade away, and then I heard truck doors slam outside as they drove off.  I tried to raise up, but between the ropes holding me back and the fierce pain of my skin feeling like it was ripping open at every move of a muscle underneath, I gave up and stayed where I was, waiting for more therapy.

Then there was a clank, like some metal tools hitting on each other.  I was able to open one swollen slit of an eye to see if the dog was around and up to something.  But it wasn’t the dog.  It was that kid who suddenly appeared again.  He tugged on one of the ropes, like to see that they was secure, then he came up close to my face.

I have never felt so intimidated by a child.  “What do you want?”

His great eyes blinked.  “Just wanted to know, who’s that boy I seen you with?”

“What boy?  I ain’t got no boy.”

“There was a boy with you, all right, even if they can’t see him.”

It might’a been the dried crust of sores on raw flesh, but I had a sensation of something crawling all over me.  “Who can’t see who?”  I squirmed a bit.

“Daddy and Uncle Jimmy-Bob can’t see your boy.  Why’s he naked like that?  Don’t you got no clothes for him?”

Lacking a better answer I went with, “Well, it’s been an unseasonably warm spring, if not downright hot for this time of year.  So he don’t need much in the way of clothes.  We believe in lettin’ nature be just like it is.”

The kid turned and disappeared from my blurred view like an apparition himself.  But I didn’t give it a second thought.  I had preoccupations of my own.  I was aching all over having recently survived a plane crash, as well as being drugged and throwed off a cliff to an isolated creek bed covered in poison sumac, and I got flea bites from head to toe.  I did not have a stitch of clothing of my own, and even worse, no money.  But at least I could still fog a mirror.  Seems I’m lucky that way, to live another day and get my ass kicked.

I closed my eyes again and rested for a bit.  The itches died down now and the kerosene was dried off enough that all I felt was a breeze tickle little goose bumps of life back into me.  There was some important issues for me to consider….

I must’a dozed off, ‘cause the next thing I knew the truck was pulling in again and doors was slamming and the sound of male laughter drifted in on the breeze.  I pried my eyeballs open.

“You’re up,” Jimmy-Bob’s voice sounded real chipper.  “We got some good news for ya.  Slim doused you pretty decent with that wet kerosene rag back there, so we only gotta swab you one more time.  Here, have another beer.”

Those doctor’s orders was music to my ears.  But my face was puffed so bad it wasn’t easy to get my inflamed lips wrapped on the can.  Slim assisted me by pouring the brew direct in my mouth through a funnel, real gentle-like, and the golden liquid flowed down my throat.  I swallowed hard.

“There ya go,” Slim was real reassuring.  “Drink it down, drink it all down, there’s more for you after that.”

Between streams of frothy beer, Slim occasionally interrupted the treatment for me to catch my breath.  I appreciated this kind consideration, but it ain’t like I can’t breathe through my nose and not suck down a cold one at the same time.