Introduction~

 

THE FEET OF GOD

Story by: Nelson J. Hall & Michael Eastman

Cover art by: Joel Rivers

 

This story begins in Bakersfield not long ago, in a trailer court called Broken Heart Park.  But now we're on a road trip, unlike any other, as remembered and told in flashback...until.... 

[The prequel is here: brokenheartedinbakersfield.blogspot.com]

Comments?  Please email michael_eastman@msn.com


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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.” ...
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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...
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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...
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