First ThrowDown of Road House – 16 July 2011

 

Chapters Four, Five and Ten
Plus
Three HubCap Songs — Homer, I’d Go to Jail for You, Mashed Potatoes and Gravy

Xerxes Lang / Red Dog Young
©
University Hills, California, July 16, 2011

page1image46527072

Prologue

“Poetry,
schmoetry,”
Richard
Wilbur
quotes
 one
of
the
Texas
recruits
in
the
36th
Bataillon
 saying,
though
he
adds
he
had
 “warm
and
amusing
relationships
 with
almost
everyone,
partly
because,
 mostly
country
Texans,
they
were
 enjoyers
of
words
­­
good
storytellers
 and
inventive
cussers.”

 

This
is
a
poem
in
Southern
speech,
more
precisely
“Texas
Tawk”
‐
a
language
I
 more
or
less
forgot
over
the
years.

You
are
going
to
hear
two
chapters
plus
the
 brief
conclusion,
as
well
as
three
“HubCap
Songs”
by
Red
Dog.


The
idea
for
Road
House
came
to
me
when
I
was
thinking
about
travel,
and
in
 particular
a
poem
by
Horace
I
once
taught.
I
Fiddled
at
it
a
while
till
I
realized
 I’d
need
some
help.
The
proximity
of
my
cousin
Red
Dog
made
me
think
he
 might
help
me
speak
like
that
again.

What
they
call
in
the
movies
plot,
character,
scenario
‐
in
all
that
we
became
a
 tag
team.

The
music
is
his,
from
his
collection
of
HubCap
songs,
Three
Chords
 and
the
Truth.

Parental
guidance
warning
for
the
Ladies,
and
for
Gentlemen
present
who
may
 not
like
having
exposed
out
in
public
how
they
think
and
what
they
do.


Homer
–
by
HubCap
Brown 


I
called
my
brother
Homer
because
that
was
his
name He
really
was
a
weirdo
but
I
loved
him
just
the
same At
the
ripe
old
age
of
sixteen
while
dad
was
at
the
bar He
grabbed
all
his
money
and
he
took
off
in
the
car

My
daddy
he
was
mad
as
hell
he
was
Fit
to
be
tied I
began
to
think
that’
be
the
day
my
brother
died! Daddy’s
tongue
was
sharp
and
cut
just
like
a
knife But
bruised
and
battered
appropriately,
he
came
home
with
his
life

Daddy
whooped
him
pretty
good,
leather
belt
and
all Said
he
had
to
earn
his
keep
then
get
out
in
the
fall Well
Homer
he
paid
daddy
and
moved
out
like
he
said I
haven’t
seen
him
since
that
day
and
now
I
guess
he’s
dead

I
called
my
brother
Homer
because
that
was
his
name He
really
was
a
weirdo
but
I
loved
him
just
the
same At
the
ripe
old
age
of
sixteen
while
dad
was
at
the
bar He
grabbed
all
his
money
and
he
took
off
in
the
car

I
called
my
brother
Homer
because
that
was
his
name He
really
was
a
weirdo
but
I
loved
him
just
the
same He
really
was
a
weirdo
but
I
loved
him
just
the
same

Insert
for
Performance
Purposes:

We
join
our
heros,
Virg
and
Johnny,
the
Narrator,
plus
our
heroine,
Bea,
right
in
 the
middle
of
things.

Virg
and
Johnny
have
just
liberated
Bea
from
the
clutches
of
two
nasty
Pimps,
 who
were
carryin’
her,
an
underage
female,
into
certain
servitude.
To
do
so,
 though,
they
had
to
abscond
with
the
stash
of
dope
they
were
supposed
to
be
 holdin’
for
the
beneKit
of
their
Partners,
themselves
not
exactly
savory
 characters.

Together,
they
were
all
takin’
the
dope
to
a
place
called
Sparks
City
and
had
 stopped
in
a
sleezy
motel
by
the
side
of
the
road.

This
all
came
about
‘cause
Bea
seduced
Virg,
thinking
he
had
the
keys
to
the
 truck,
whereas
Johnny
actually
did.

It
was
her
only
way
of
escape.
Virg
took
the
 seduction
personally,
as
folks
sometimes
do.
Now
he’s
seriously
in
Love.

It
is
early
morning.
They
are
on
the
run.
in
my
old
Chevy
pick‐up
truck.

Howdy, D’jeet Yet?

We
high‐tailed
it
like
bats
out‐a
hell,
Burma
shave signs
Flashing
by
so
quick
Virg,
who
liked
 readin’
‘em
off
one
by
one,
couldn’t
keep
up
‐‐ ‘bout
the
only
reading
he
ever
did
anyway.
 I
drove,
a’ways
looking
back,
’cept
when
Virg
 and
Bea
climbed
over
the
seat
into
the
cubby
hole.

 I
wud’n’t
gonna
stop
till
miles
stretched
between
us
 and
the
Partners
and
their
new
partners,
the
Pimps. I
had
a
map
we’d
brung
along,
found
the
least
obvious
 path
of
escape,
one
that
dwindled
right
off
the
map.
 I
drove
on
and
on,
hopin’
for
a
road
house
we
could
 stop
and
eat,
but
we
weren’t
goin’
nowhere,
just
fast,
 and
there
was
nothin’
nowhere.
All
I
could
do
was
dream
 of
food,
like
in
HubCap
Brown’s
song
‘bout
mashed
 potatoes,
‘cept
that
I
have
most
all
my
teeth.

Before
too
long
asphalt
gave
out
to
gravel
and
ruts. Then
a
storm
brew’d
up,
the
sky
grew
dark,
split
in
half.

 Couldn’t
see
a
dad‐gum
thing,
pulled
over
 to
wait
out
a
dee‐luge
the
likes
a‐which
I
never
seen.

 Virg
and
Bea
crawled
back
up
front.
We
sat
there
 a
bit,
rain
pounding
down,
windows
fogging
up.

 It
was
a
real
turd‐Floater,
‘nuff

to
strangle
frogs.
 Bea
was
sittin’
between
us,
shoulder
brushin’
up
 like
accident’ly,
moist
and
bare
against
my
own.

 Hot
and
sweaty,
she
smelled
mighty
good,
had a
ring
of
Jones’
beads
around
her
pretty
neck.

Virg
had
an
old
eight‐track
he’d
brung
along
I
begged
 him
please
not
to
play.

Never
shoulda
hummed
 any
HubCap
a‐tall,
just
got
him
started
off.
 He
got
it
out‐a
the
glove
compartment,
where he’d
also
moved
the
gun,
and
slid
it
in,
a
tunehe
loved,
HubCap’s
I’d
Go
to
Jail
for
You.



Hung
up
on
the
tune,
not
sure
of
the
words,
Virg
made
up
 his
own:
I
get
there,
I’ll
shut
my
eyes,
think­a
you.
 Not
HubCap’s
words,
but
Virg,
he
had
some
right
 idea.
He
done
his
time,
knew
in
the
pen
they
do
 to
you
what
they
can
till
you
Figure
out
how
to
do
it
 back
again
to
them.
And
Bea
was
jail
bait
 for
sure,
once
you
got
a
close
look.
Even
out
 here
in
the
sticks,
the
Law
casts
a
prejudicial
eye
 on
big
disparities
of
age
‐‐
lessun
you’re
related.

The
sky
Finally
cleared.
We
drove
on
till
we
got
 to
a
gate
and,
a
piece
behind,
a
trailer
house
set
up
 on
blocks,
surrounded
by
dumps
and
sheds.
A
geezer,
 crusty
coot
with
straggly
hair,
was
rockin’
on
his
porch.
 He
looked
us
over
good,
stood,
then
peered
over
 right
into
the
cab,
almost
had
a
hissy
Fit.Then
he
said,
like
to
long‐lost
family
jess
rec‐a‐nized:
 Howdy,
d’jeet
yet?

­­
hospitality
I
Figured
 havin’
something
to
do
with
Bea.

He
sat
us
down,
went for
a
mess
of
bacon
and
beans,
a
clay
crock. Then
in
Mason
jars
he
served
us
up
right
there in
the
yard
some
of
the
best
white
lightnin’

I
ever
had.

Homer,
his
name,
didn’t
think
much
of
folks,
 why
he
lived
way
out
there,
his
only
friends pythons
kept
in
tanks
they
slithered
out‐a
at
will.

 Them
and
the
wildcat
he
let
out
at
night.

She
keeps
 the
pole
cats
away.

Personally,
don’t
mind
their
smell.

 She
dudn’t
like
it.
She
don’t
like
the
smell
of
nobody
but
me.

Homer
didn’t
mind
people
when
he
had
music
to
play, cuz
that’s
what
music’s
for.

Whisky,
weed
too. Bea
herself
didn’t
care
much
for
hooch,
and
she
like the
shit
Homer
had
a
patch
grownin’
of
back
in
a
plot
 hidden
in
the
pine
trees
where
the
sun
shined
jess
right. We
offered
Homer
some
of
ours,
but
he
demurred: Affects
my
memory,
when
I
gotta
play,
not
like
Johnny
Corn.
 We
drank
a
while,
shot
the
breeze,
Finished
the
jug,
 polishin’
off
the
beans
with
crusts
of
stale
bread.

 Then
Homer
got
his
ax,
strummed
a
coupla
chords,
 launched
into
his
version
of
I’d
Go
to
Jail
for
You.


I’d
Go
to
Jail
for
You
–
by
Hub‐Cap
Brown

First
time
that
I
saw
Lorene
she
was
waving
me
goodbye An
ice
cold
beer
in
her
left
hand,
a
pistol
by
her
side Said
she
robbed
the
Glendale
train,
then
put
the
hammer
down Off
she
went
in
a
trial
of
dust
heading
out
of
town

Even
though
I
had
my
doubts
twas
true
love
at
First
sight If
mama
was
alive
today
she’d
say
that
I
was
right I
know
that
I
love
her
and
that
she
will
be
true I
swear
on
mama’s
bible
that
I’d
go
to
jail
for
you.

Chorus:

Well
you
done
the
crime
I’ll
do
the
time
no
matter
what
it
takes We
all
have
our
troubles
and
I
know
you
made
mistakes You
are
my
sweetest
darlin’
girl
no
matter
what
you
do I
swear
on
mama’s
bible
that
I’d
go
to
jail
for
you.

Tag
ending:

 

Yes
I
swear
on
mama’s
bible
that
I’d
go
to
jail
for
you.

8

Yonder Out-a Sight

Even
Virg
could
tell
Homer’s
voice
sounded
famil’yer
 as
could
be.

I
know
your
Christian
name,
he
asked,
 what­cher
fam’ly
name?

­­
Brown,
the
old
cuss
replied.

 I’m
known
as
Homer
Brown.

Virg’s
eyes
went
wide:

 Related
to
HubCap
Brown?

Homer
looked
off
into
space
 like
somethin’
was
hoverin’
up
there
on
high.

 We’re
related
for
sure.
I
can’t
tell
you
exactly
how.

 From
the
way
he
sung
though,
you
could
place
a
bet,

 Homer
shared
the
blood
of
Waldo
HubCap
Brown.

If
Virg
and
me
had
been
the
Pimps
we
mighta
cut
a
deal, Homer’s
hankering
hangin’
out
for
all‐a
us
to
see. Virg
and
me,
we
bad
enough
boys,
used
to
cheat, thieve
and
brawl.
You
know
we
was
slingin’
dope,
 holding
a
stash
we
stole.
But
there
are
lines
I
won’t
 cross.

Pimps
are
the
scum
of
the
earth,
leeching
like
 gov’rnment
off
somebody
else’s
honest
work.

Homer
must‐a
gathered
we
were
on
the
run from
sump’um
Virg
said
‘bout
the
glove
compartment.Y’all
wanna
hole
up
a
couple
of
days,
stay
in
the
shacks? The
snakes
won’t
bother
ya.
I’ll

feed
‘em
good,
keep
the
cat
in.

 Anybody
bouncing
down
dat
road,
you
hear
‘em
in
time
to
hide. Just
park
your
truck
yonder
out­a
sight
behind
them
trees. So
Homer
got
his
public,
Bea
and
Virg,
time
to
cavort. Me,
a
city
boy,
Daddy,
when
I
was
young,
 used
to
take
me
out
to
hunt
in
the
Piney
Woods.

 I
liked
it
there,
felt
safe,
like
at
Homer’s
place,
so reckoned
it
wise
to
stay
there
a
while,
bide
time.
 Virg,
too,
needed
time,
had
holt
of
a
wishbone
 he
prayed
to
break
his
way,
shacking
up
with
Bea.
 Thing
was,
I
kept
thinkin’,
I
seen
her
First,
by
rights
Bea should‐a
belonged
to
me.
But
Virg,
he
was
my
friend.

9

We
heard
real
music
out
there,
HubCap
I
never
knew. Homer
put
special
feeling
into
one
I
love,
Mashed
 Potatoes
and
Gravy.

No
one
came
down
the
road.

10

Mashed
Potatoes
and
Gravy
–
by
Hub‐Cap
Brown

Mashed
Potatoes
and
gravy
is
all
I
ever
eat Used
to
eat
some
green
beans
back
when
I
had
teeth Twenty
years
of
taters
just
dreamin’
about
some
meat Now
mashed
potatoes
and
gravy
is
all
I
ever
eat

Back
when
I
had
chompers
I
used
to
could
eat A
big
ol’
piece
of
chicken
and
some
barbecued
meat Then
that
bottle
came
a’
Flyin’
and
before
a
word
was
said That
sucker
hit
me
in
the
mouth
right
there
in
my
head

My
teeth
went
every
which‐a‐way,
whiskey
mixed
with
blood I
passed
out
and
hit
the
Floor,
that’s
when
the
Floor
said
THUD Next
day
when
I
woke
up
I
wished
that
I
was
dead Cause
all
my
teeth
were
missing
from
that
big
hole
in
my
head

Mashed
Potatoes
and
gravy
is
all
I
ever
eat Used
to
eat
some
green
beans
back
when
I
had
teeth Twenty
years
of
taters
just
dreamin’
about
some
meat Now
mashed
potatoes
and
gravy
is
all
I
ever
eat

11

Coda — All There Was Before

I
was
riding
shotgun,
should’ve
been
at
the
wheel. Just
above
the
trees
herds
of
purple
clouds stampeeded
wild
across
swollen
bruises
in
the
sky.

 The
wind
kicked
back
at
Virg’s
hands,
his
knuckles
 gripped
hard
to
the
wrapped
naugahyde
rim.
 Hail
pelted
the
windshield,
piled
up
in
slush on
the
shoulders
and
the
cracked
asphalt
slabs.

A
funny
kind
of
twilight
came
down
on
Virg
and
me.
 He
turned:
Sorry,
Johnny,
Screwed
up
Bad.

 He
was
quotin’
HubCap
a‐course,
but
it
applied.
 Then,
at
that
very
moment,
things
got
real
loud. A
twister
crossed
the
road
a
football
Field
ahead,
 ripping
up
the
Lord
knows
what,
turning
into
junk all
there
was
before.
I
saw
the
makin’s
of
a
house
 whirl
by,
Fiberboard
panels
in
the
air,
dish‐pans, a
closet
of
clothes.
I
swear
a
barbecue
pit
Flew
by. The
Chevy
rattled
and
shook,
never
left
the
ground.

 Then
Virg
grabbed
his
Grand‐Daddy’s
gun
from
the
glove compartment,
leaped
down
from
the
cab,
tossed
me the
keys,
headed
the
direction
destruction
went.

Silence
returned
with
a
strange
new
light.

Cross
the
clearing
 I
could
see
his
back
as
he
strode
single‐mindedly
away. Never
saw
the
man
again,
know
he
ain’t
coming
back.

 I
gassed
it,
rev’ed
her
up,
laid
some
rubber
out. How
I
got
here
now
and
where
I
went
then
 there
is
no
way
I
can
say.
In
HubCap’s
words
­­ y’all
know
the
song
‐­
My
Only
Home’s
the
Road.

12