The Eleventh Hour

Runt

When I awoke at ten o'clock this morning the sun was shining brightly and there was not a cloud in the sky and birds were singing and, oddly enough, I was wide awake and feeling great . . . but somehow it all still seemed a little bit darker than it had before.

Tummy, my beagle, so named for his big beer belly, was especially loving this morning and couldn't wait for me to wake on my own any longer. So he jumped on the bed and slurped my face until I gagged.

"Fine, brat, fine, I'm up!" All the time getting slobbered on with fat wet kisses, doggy germs in my mouth, yuck!

He really doesn't have a beer belly, he was neutered, poor pup, but he liked to wander sometimes and I couldn't afford child support, even for puppies. But I really like telling him he has a beer belly. I don't think he minds.

So, on this glorious morning that seemed so dark, I jumped up, almost literally jumping off the bed, and darted into the bathroom first. Rather necessary at that time, since it's been ignored for about eight hours straight. After all, when Nature calls, you better answer or she's going to leave a message. Right? With a capital MESS!

So I started to think of what I had to do today while I poured the same old slop into Tummy's food bowl, the same old slop that made me nearly get sick at the sight of corned beef hash. After filling his water dish as well, I grabbed my own breakfast, yet another bowl of cereal, and sat down in a living room the size of a storage closet. In fact, sometimes in the summer I would sleep in the storage closet because it was cooler.

Tummy followed me out of the kitchen and laid his head on my lap as I ate and whined pitifully.

"Go away, fatso, you got your own food. I'm not going to pet you right now."

He simply stared up at me and whined. So I just sighed and ate and let him sit there, head on my lap, whining. I thought about what I had to do today. I didn't even think that I wouldn't get most of them done. And if I would have known what I do now, I might not have even bothered doing the rest. Actually, some people might not have left their home, but that would have been pointless. Sure enough, as soon as you don't do something you finally realize you didn't have to do, then it turns out you needed to do it anyway. (You think about that, it'll come to you.)

Anyway, at that time on this day I did not realize that I didn't have to do these things, but they seemed so important at the time. Well, weren't they? Go to the bank, yes, and cash that unemployment check because, boy, do I need that! Then I can go make that last payment on the Terrible Beast in my driveway. If I have enough left, I can go get some food for myself so I don't have to eat that "corned beef hash" anymore, because Tummy does get so upset. Maybe I could stop and get the newspaper because the classified section has both job listings and personal ads. Not that either would do me any good.

Yes, I have been waiting for this day since my conception. Most people would not understand that, but there are some who would.

Of course, I was painfully unaware of just what today was, for if I had known how my life would . . . well, change today, I would have gone about the day with a bit more spring in my step and a smile on my face. But who can smile at that Beast payment or those laughable want ads? Hell, my Beast isn't even legal! I don't have the Beast Permit that some badge totin' hillbilly told me I needed. I told him what he could do with his "fines" and "impoundment" and such, but I don't think my voice carried to him in his car. I was lucky then, so I was told. But I was to get even luckier, thanks to that same hick bastard.

After I ate, Tummy followed me back out to the kitchen, there really wasn't enough room for the both of us, and I rinsed my bowl out in brownish water and dropped the bowl in a pile of dishes. I kicked a mouse, probably the same one that slept with me last night, and I grabbed my keys, right where I always leave them, on the floor next to the door because that's just where they happen to fall.

Tummy still hadn't ate any of his food, but I guess he thought he would have enough time to eat when I was gone. Instead, he just followed me so closely that he almost tripped me, in fact I think he was trying to trip me so I wouldn't leave him alone. And whining, constantly whining all the time, every step.

"Shut it, brat, I have to go. Good bye!" And I left, finally.

Time to "Awaken the Dragon," or as most people call it - start the car. This is a spectacle, for passengers, of which I haven't had any in over two years. First, make sure the door is closed. I usually have to slam it three or four times before it sticks. If it isn't closed properly when I start the car, the haggard raspy beeping will not quit until the car is shut off. Second, make sure my seatbelt is buckled for the same reason. At least it makes for safe driving practices, if not completely safe driving. Then put the key in and turn it. If it doesn't turn the I have to jiggle it and sometimes bend it a little. (I tend to break keys often this way, so I carry a spare. When I break a key, I get a new spare made before I use the first spare very much.) Once the key turns, I hit the dash, while at the same time kicking the underside of the steering column. If it's not done precisely together, the Beast will just growl at me as if I am doing nothing more than pissing it off.

And even if I did piss it off, I really wouldn't care.

The Beast, when it was new, used to be good on gas. I guess it is still better than most cars, and definitely those sporty SUV's I love so much, but now that I have to leave it running until I alight somewhere for an extended period, I go through more gas than it's really worth. At least I don't have to worry about driving to work every day. HA HA!

So when I arrived at the bank, my agitated little Beast just kept grumbling about how unfair it was that he had wake up and he couldn't go inside where it was air conditioned and so on and so forth and blah! I learned to ignore the thing long ago, when it should have croaked.

The bank was uneventful, so I went to the dealer and paid the last of my Beast Installment, plus numerous late charges. And, whoopee, the decrepit dragon was mine, all mine, at last. The Beast Permit would have to wait for another month or two, but hey, where was I going to drive except the bank and the grocery store?

So I went to the grocery store, the clerk making some stupid comment about how beautiful a day it is and then I bought ice cream that I shouldn't have bought and a newspaper that would do no good. The store was also uneventful.

This may have been when I realized that something was dreadfully wrong. I noticed it this morning when I woke up, just how shaded can a cloudless sky and furious sun be? But this may have been when I really consciously thought about it. Everything was just going way too smoothly.

So I sat in the car, the belly of the Beast, and thought, right there in the store parking lot, for almost two hours. When I had made up my mind and my ice cream had mostly melted, I drove to the park. There I sat sipping rapidly warming ice cream and reading ads for jobs and girls that all but told me that they wanted anybody except ME! So I turned to the comics, the only relief I have and only rarely, when I can afford a newspaper.

It was after dark when I left the park, and that was only because the bugs were too hungry and I was a perfect three course meal. I left the ice cream carton and the newspaper there. Somebody will want to read it. I left the receipt there, as well, but whatever, they won't track me down.

It was then that my life changed. I saw the flashing lights, so pretty and colorful (I really like colors), in my rear view mirror. I smiled, because I knew it was just that day for it. I pulled over in an empty parking lot, only about two miles from my shack. I left the Beast growling because I knew the terrible fate that would befall if I had shut it down. I had just gone through that at the park.

I won't bother you with details because it was, like everything else, uneventful, just that same redneck who was so nice the last time. This time he took my car, like he promised he would. He took my license too, which is a good thing because I really hated that picture. So I walked home with the citation in my pocket. But I know I'm never going to pay them to get that Beast back, or my license. I'm not going to drive again after tonight.

So there is this girl, a beautiful girl, I passed on the street. She is someone I could have been very happy with, I'm sure. Not that I will ever find out, she passed by and now she'' out of my life forever. But not before something unusual happened. Well, it may not be that unusual, but it has never happened to me before tonight.

As I passed that girl, she smiled at me and I smiled back. Her smile was so warm and caring, even though she didn't know me, that I stopped and turned and watched her walk away and all the while thinking, "Go after her, you idiot, she might like you!" But then I thought about what I had to offer her and my smile quickly disappeared. As I turned back toward the Shack, I heard her scream quickly and then it was cut short.

I ran and heard a muffled shuffling in the alley I had just passed. I turned again and there, in the alley, was the girl and some idiot who obviously thought that he could be happy with her as well, only he wanted to be happy right now!

He stopped, gun still at her chest, and he looked at me and told me to mind my own business. I knew more than he did and I pulled my house key out of my pocket. I offered it to him, hand outstretched, palm up, and he leaned over to take a look at it, asking what it was.

And the gun slid off her chest and to her side where she batted it away. The gunman turned to shoot her, but I was quicker with the shot, pelting him with my house key, right in his ear. I see the blood coming out of his ear, it was a good shot. It caused him to miss his shot and the beautiful girl would make somebody very happy one day.

And now this gun is turning my way. I first thought of Tummy, but now I am thinking that I will see him again soon enough. Poor dog!

But, this is the day that I have been anxiously awaiting for over thirty-five years. Yes, it truly has been a great day!