{"id":352,"date":"2022-12-09T01:40:10","date_gmt":"2022-12-09T01:40:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/entwistedtongues\/?page_id=352"},"modified":"2023-04-15T17:02:58","modified_gmt":"2023-04-15T17:02:58","slug":"the-original-road-house","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/entwistedtongues\/the-original-road-house\/","title":{"rendered":"The Original Road House"},"content":{"rendered":"

This is the original Road House<\/em><\/strong>, a comic narrative poem in Southern speech more precisely \u201cTexas Tawk\u201d – a language I more or less forgot over the years. It has been retitled and rewritten in rhyming couplets, as Shinny-Dipping with Alligators,<\/strong><\/em> which text will appear here<\/a> when it is completed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Parental guidance warning to Ladies and Gentlemen reading who may not like having hung out and exposed in public how they think and what they do.\u00a0There is not a shred of political correctness herein.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

“Poetry, schmoetry,\u201d the poet Richard Wilbur
\nquotes one of [his fellow WW2 recruits’] saying,\u00a0though he adds
\n<\/span><\/em><\/span>that he\u00a0had “warm and amusing\u00a0relationships with
\nalmost everyone, partly because,
\nmostly country Texans,\u00a0they were enjoyers
\nof words \u2014 good storytellers\u00a0and inventive cussers\u201d<\/span><\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Notes can be found at \u00a0<\/span><\/em>https:\/\/alteritas.net\/GXL\/?page_id=4562<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

1 – Junk Piled On <\/b><\/p>\n

Virgil and me set off to Sparks City with the two
\nFat cats who\u2019d bankrolled the operation and insisted on
\n<\/span>Tagging \u00a0along for the ride. That city, which it ain\u2019t, sucks.
\n<\/span>The stops along the way themselves leave considerable
\n<\/span>To be desired, details of which y\u2019all’ll shortly hear.
\n<\/span>Now Virg, not since tender youth himself the virgin
\nHis name evokes, maybe for that very reason
\n<\/span>Fixated on liberating others from that sorry state,
\nConsequences be damned, had a number of things
\n<\/span>Occupying his mind, which works okay on a single
\nTrack but encounters difficulty when issues surpass
\nTwo or three. You see, leaves were poppin\u2019 out all over.
\n<\/span>It was glorious Spring time. Distractions were rife.
\nLike Indian paintbrushes suddenly unclad, the ladies
\nWere doing their damnedest to show and showing well —
\n<\/span>Adversity which can drive a man to fortify himself
\n<\/span>With hard liquor, this to keep thoughts down to a few
\n<\/span>And in manageable rows. Which I’d wisely foreseen,
\nPacking provisions for the trip, hip flasks of bourbon
\nPlus some extra bricks of the fine product, the weed
\nWe hoped to turn a decent margin on in Sparks City,
\nWe\u2019d camouflaged, along with a gun, under a lot of junk
\n<\/span>Piled on in the pickup truck\u2019s locked tool box.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2 – No One Seemed to Mind <\/b><\/p>\n

I\u2019ll tell you why we took the route we did, putting
\nIt to the springs across miles of broken asphalt
\nPast rundown shacks in the woods. Our bankers, Partners
\n<\/i>The expression they preferred, wanted to see
\nSome rednecks in the raw<\/i>.\u00a0 <\/span>You’d’a thunk one look
\nAt me and Virg sufficed.\u00a0 <\/span>Anyway, they got their wish.
\nWhere we were was a place you could damn well do
\nWhat you please — whole place was run by rednecks.
\nOnly two rooms left at the humble inn we chose
\nCatty corner a parking lot from a strip club.
\nVirg wanted to see himself some ladies au naturel<\/i>.
\nThe Partners shared this taste. So we toked up, crossed
\nThe lot, plunged past a blast of air-conditioning
\nInto a dark space where near nudes sat in
\nPhosphorescent light, nonchalantly flicking
\nAshes off in the air. The main event was on the floor,
\nWhere two Ol’ Boys, pool cues brandished
\nWhat looked like menacin\u2019ly, were in strident
\nDisputation about the sister of one, girl friend
\nOf the other, maybe vice-versa, in any case
\nA dirty blond at best verging on legal age.
\nBoth gentlemen suffered noticeably from lack
\nOf blood in their alcohol streams. The bouncer, paid
\nTo ward off untoward, that is, uncompensated
\nAttention to the girls, at first appeared alarmed.
\nBut one Ole Boy invited the other please to step
\nOutside, a different jurisdiction from the bouncer\u2019s own.
\nDelighted at the prospect, the Partners excused themselves
\nAs if to take a leak, then headed out to watch the fight.
\nAlways leery of stray gunshot, I stayed inside.
\nVirg, who’d lost his youthful love of fisticuffs,
\nHad anyway not gotten past the bar, his own attention
\nCaptured by one or another of the ladies over there.
\nThat was some powerful shit we had. I lost track
\nOf my thoughts, caught up in what was flickering
\nOn the screen and then, on the jukebox, a sad
\nTune I hadn\u2019t heard, Homer<\/i>, by HubCap Brown.
\nSo I didn\u2019t notice Virg had disappeared.
\nNor, when the Partners came back with the two Ol’ Boys,
\nBackslapping buddy-buddy, the female catalyst of what
\nTurned out not to be a brawl but a meeting of minds
\nWas also missing in action. No one seemed to mind.
\n<\/span>We closed the place down, me the last one out.
\nBack at our room the door was locked. Virg had the key.
\nI had a mind to pound on it, wake him up, but somehow
\nGot that more than a roll in the hay was goin’ on in there.
\nI wobbled to the truck, fell hard asleep in the cab.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

3 – Skinny-Dippin\u2019 with Alligators<\/b><\/p>\n

Johnny? <\/i>First sound I heard at dawn, Virg
\nShaking my shoulder, hand cupped over my mouth.
\nBehind him, the dirty blond, who closer-up had a lazy
\nLeft eye. Not much of a looker but her every bodily
\nPart brand spanking new, waitin’ to be wore out.
\nBea, like bumblebee<\/i>, her name turned out to be.
\n<\/span>Johnny, we gotta get out of here<\/i>, his shirt on inside
\nOut, like he’d pulled clothes on in a mighty hurry.
\nNever figured Virg much of a white knight,
\nBut here he had a damsel in distress dressed
\nOut in white halter, jeans from which I thought
\nTo avert my eyes. This Bea\u2019d had some problems
\nAt home. Not hard to imagine what they might be.
\nShe\u2019d hit the road, but the road\u2019d hit back.
\nEnded up with the Ole Boys we seen last night.
\nThey had some kinda job for her on down the road,
\nAn offer she had no way politely to decline.
\nWe all try to run away, sometimes way too soon.
\nOnce you start to run it\u2019s powerful hard to stop.
\nBea now needed desperately to elope with Virg.
\nBut the Chevy was mine. I had those keys.
\nHold your horses, Virg. Forget about them pricks.
\nWhat about our Partners in crime? Track us down with dogs
\nIf we absconded with the shit. And I ain\u2019t\u00a0 giving it away.
\nSeems Bea\u2019d got him in the sack, not hard to do.
\nBesides, the Ole Boys had sold her to us, the Partners
\nCutting that deal on my behalf when they were outside
\nAnd designating Virg to try out the first test drive.
\nShe must first-a taught him a trick or two, then turned
\nOn the charm. Like lovers do, more than one-night
\nStands, she tol\u2019 her story how she liked it told.
\nA\u00a0 whole passle of folks were hot on her tail, father,
\nBrother, and the Law. Plot was fuzzy there, but I got
\nThe point. She needed to get to Sparks City too
\nwhere there were trusted friends to take her in.<\/p>\n

This Bea had sump’un which drew me to her side,
\nThough an inner voice warned me Virg was a door
\nFor me to hold open for just the while she barged through
\nBefore the damn\u2019d thing slammed shut for good.
\nI usta to could fall in love, took the fall
\nSo many times, got nervous ’bout goin’ up
\nOn heights.\u00a0 <\/span>But who am I to say?\u00a0 <\/span>Someone wants
\nTo skinny-dip with alligators, that personal choice is theirs.
\nAfterwards friendship comes in, and Virg, he was my friend.
\nSo I put her into neutral, we pushed her across the lot,
\nThe front door open so I could hop into the cab.
\nCoasted out of earshot.\u00a0 <\/span>They clambered in. I hit
\nThe switch. The show got on the road.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

4 – Howdy, D’jeet Yet?<\/b><\/p>\n

We high-tailed it like bats out-a hell, Burma shave
\nSigns flashing by so quick Virg, who liked
\nReadin\u2019 \u2018em off one by one, couldn\u2019t keep up –
\n\u2018Bout the only reading he ever did anyway.
\nI drove, a\u2019ways looking back, ‘cept when Virg
\nAnd Bea climbed over the seat into the cubby hole.
\nI wud\u2019n\u2019t gonna stop till miles stretched between us
\nAnd the Partners and their new partners, the Pimps.
\nI had a map we\u2019d brung along, found the least obvious
\nPath of escape, one that dwindled right off the map.
\nI drove on and on, hopin\u2019 for a road house we could
\nStop and eat, but we weren\u2019t goin\u2019 nowhere, just fast,
\nAnd there was nothin\u2019 nowhere. All I could do was dream
\nOf food, like in HubCap Brown\u2019s song <\/i>\u2018bout mashed
\nPotatoes, <\/i>\u2018cept that I have most all my teeth.<\/p>\n

Before too long asphalt gave out to gravel and ruts.
\nThen a storm brew\u2019d up, the sky grew dark,
\nSplit in half. Couldn\u2019t see a dad-gum thing, pulled over
\nTo wait out a deluge the likes a-which I never seen.
\nVirg and Bea crawled back up front. We sat there
\nA bit, the rain pounding down, windows fogging up.
\nIt was a real turd-floater, \u2018nuff\u00a0 <\/span>to strangle frogs.
\nBea was sittin\u2019 between us, shoulder brushin\u2019 up
\nLike accident\u2019ly, moist and bare against my own.
\nHot and sweaty, she smelled mighty good.
\nVirg had an old eight-track he’d brung along
\nI begged him not to play.\u00a0 <\/span>Never shoulda hummed
\nAny HubCap a-tall, just got him started off.
\nHe got it out-a the glove compartment, where
\nHe\u2019d also moved the gun, and slid it in, a tune
\nhhe loved, HubCap\u2019s I\u2019d Go to Jail for You<\/i>.
\nHung up on the tune, not sure of the words, Virg made up
\nWords of his own: When I get there, I\u2019ll shut my eyes,
\n<\/span><\/i>Think of you<\/i>. Not HubCap\u2019s words, but Virg, he had
\nSome right idea. He done his time, knew in the pen
\nThey do to you what can till you figure out how
\nTo do it back again to them. And Bea was jail
\nBait for sure, once you got a close look. Even here
\nOut in the sticks, the Law casts a prejudicial eye
\nOn big disparities of age — lessun you\u2019re related.<\/p>\n

The sky finally cleared. We drove on till we got
\nTo a gate and, a piece behind, a trailer house set up
\nOn blocks, surrounded by hovels and sheds. A geezer,
\nCrusty coot with straggly hair, was rockin’ on his porch.
\nHe looked us over good, stood, then peered over
\nRight into the cab, almost had a hissy fit,
\nThen said, like to long-lost family jess recognized:
\nHowdy, d’jeet yet?\u00a0 <\/span>– <\/i>hospitality I figured
\nHavin’ something to do with Bea.\u00a0 <\/span>He sat us down, went
\nFor a mess of bacon and beans, a clay crock.
\nThen in Mason jars he served us up right there
\nIn the yard some of the best moonshine I ever had.<\/p>\n

Homer, his name, didn\u2019t think much of folks,
\nWhy he lived way out there, his only friends
\nPythons kept in barrels they slithered outta at will.
\nThem and the wildcat he let out at night. She keeps
\n<\/i>The pole cats away. Personally, don’t mind their smell.
\n<\/i>She<\/i> dudn’t like it. She don\u2019t like the smell of nobody but me.
\n<\/i>Homer didn\u2019t mind people when he had music to play,
\nCuz that’s what music’s for. Whisky, weed too.
\nBea herself didn\u2019t care much for hooch, preferred
\nTo ours the stuff Homer had a patch of back in a plot
\nHidden in the pine trees where the sun shined jess right.
\nWe offered Homer some of ours, but he demurred:
\nAffects my memory, when I gotta play, not like Johnny Corn.
\n<\/i>We drank a while, shot the shit, finished the jug,
\nPolishin\u2019 off the beans with crusts of stale bread.
\nThen Homer got his ax, strummed a chord or two,
\nLaunched into his version of I\u2019d Go to Jail for You<\/i>.<\/p>\n


\n5 – Yonder Out of Sight <\/b><\/p>\n

Even Virg could tell Homer\u2019s voice sounded famil\u2019yer
\nas could be. I know your Christian name<\/i>, he asked,
\nwhat-cher fam\u2019ly name?\u00a0 <\/span>– Brown<\/i>, the old cuss replied.
\nI’m known as<\/i> Homer Brown<\/i>. Virg\u2019s eyes went wide:
\nRelated to HubCap Brown? <\/i>Homer looked off into space
\nlike somethin’ was hoverin’ up there on high.
\nWe\u2019re related for sure. I can\u2019t tell you exactly how<\/i>.
\nFrom the way he sung though, you could place a bet,
\nHomer shared the blood of Waldo HubCap Brown.<\/p>\n

If Virg and me had been the Pimps we mighta cut a deal,
\nHomer\u2019s hankering exposed out for all of us to see.
\nVirg and me, we bad enough boys, used to cheat,
\npilfer and brawl. You know we was slingin\u2019 dope,
\nholding a stash we stole. But there are lines I won’t
\ncross.\u00a0 <\/span>Pimps are the scum of the earth, leeching like
\ngov\u2019rnment off somebody else’s honest work.
\nHomer must-a gathered we were on the run
\nfrom sump\u2019um Virg said \u2018bout the glove compartment.
\nY’all wanna hole up a couple of days, stay in the shacks<\/i>?
\nThe snakes won\u2019t bother ya. I\u2019ll\u00a0 <\/span>feed \u2018em good, keep the cat in.
\n<\/i>Anybody bouncing down that road, you hear \u2018em in time to hide.
\n<\/i>Just park your truck yonder out of sight behind them trees.
\n<\/i>So Homer got his public, Bea and Virg, time to cavort.
\nMe, a city boy, Daddy, when I was young,
\nused to take me out to hunt in the Piney Woods.
\n<\/i>I liked it there, felt safe, like at Homer\u2019s place, so
\nreckoned it wise to stay there a while, bide time.
\nVirg, too, needed time, had holt of a wishbone
\nhe prayed to break his way, shacking up with Bea.
\nThing was, I kept thinkin’, I seen her first, by rights Bea
\nshould-a belonged to me. But Virg, he was my friend.<\/p>\n

We heard real music out there, HubCap I never knew.
\nHomer put special feeling into one I love, Mashed
\n<\/i>Taters and Gravy. <\/i> Thanks be, no one came down the road.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

6 – Moon Woman <\/b><\/p>\n

Gotta fess up here, been makin\u2019 fun of Virg,
\n\u2018bout how he thinks things through so careful slow,
\nitem by item, like it might someday all add up.
\nBut it was Virg whose lights went on, not mine.
\nHowever long we camped at Homer\u2019s place, we\u2019d
\nbe dumber than the dickens now to go to Sparks City.
\nThe Partners could easily ferret out our contact there,
\njust had to wait us out, easier than shootin\u2019 fish.
\nHe’d been talking with Bea about all this.
\nShe found it funny we\u2019d stole her too, same time
\nwe stole the dope. Or vice-versa. Or both at once.
\nThing about her friends in Sparks City, they were
\nreliable as could be. They were Injuns<\/i>, she said,
\nwouldn\u2019t deal with normal white folks, let alone
\nwith scum like the Pimps. Cordin\u2019 to Bea, they had a good eye
\nfor a deal, liked much as anybody to roll smoke.
\nThese Injuns would deal with Bea. When they learned what
\nthe Ole Boys done to her, they\u2019d deal with them too.<\/p>\n

Johnny, she part Choctaw or Coushatta or sump\u2019m.
\n<\/i>I saw her tat-too.\u00a0 <\/span><\/i>He spared telling me where it was.
\nIt\u2019s in some kind of Injun lingo. H-A-S-H-I\u00a0 <\/span>T-A-Y-I-K.
\n<\/span><\/i>He spelled the letters out one by one, way he does.
\nMeans Moon-Woman<\/i>. Soon as we dragged ourselves
\nout of Homer\u2019s, we\u2019d find a phone, she\u2019d call\u2019em up
\nand negociate a way to off-load our shit.<\/p>\n

Didn\u2019t first buy the idea that Bea was part Injun,
\ntattoo or not, her Granny full-blood. But as a boy
\nI had noticed Injuns don\u2019t look different than the rest of us —
\nprobably been too many peckers in their woodpile.
\nPlus, liked the idea of having Injuns on my side for once.<\/p>\n

Took some time to get away from Homer\u2019s place.
\nYou know how it is. We had dope, moonshine to spare.
\nHomer made a run into town for provisions,
\nonce we said we\u2019d stay. Bea – could\u2019t believe it – knew
\nhow to cook, went to forage in the woods for stuff
\nto put into stew. I dunno, mushrooms, things like<\/i> mushrooms,
\nnettles, funny lookin\u2019 berries, water lily flowers.
\nWhenever she could get Virg satisfied she spent time
\nwith the pythons, followin\u2019 \u2018em \u2018round, seein\u2019 what they did.
\nEven made friends with the cat. Then she went to the stove,
\na sight to see, barefoot like she was, in the kitchen.
\nHomer liked his meat, didn\u2019t really mind which kind.
\nSo he\u2019d take his gun, go into the bush and bring down
\nwhatever moved, long as it looked tasty good.
\nHe preferred his squirrel to birds, armadillo to fish,
\nthough, like me, when he was a boy, he used to tease
\ncrawdads out of their hidin\u2019 in ditches with bits of bacon
\ntied onto string. Bats, for him, was the best meat,
\nbut he couldn\u2019t stand to shoot\u2019em, and they\u2019re hard to trap.
\nSo he made do with nutria, a succulent swamp delight.
\nThere was a bunch of \u2018em living over there in the slough,
\nwhich the pythons knew better than to eat themselves.
\nBetween the two of \u2018em, we had good chow. I was high
\nmost the while, Virg, beside himself gone on Bea.
\nHomer and I got a little testy, frustrated\u2019s more the word.
\nBut he sang a lot of songs and sometimes I played along
\non his ax. Homer\u2019s favorite was without a doubt
\nAin\u2019t Got Too Much Living\u2019 Left Inside of Me.
\n<\/i>Homer\u2019s was a nice place till we had to take our leave.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

7 – Ala-Ga-Zam, the Alligator Man<\/b><\/p>\n

Took us half the day to find a phone that worked.
\nThen we had to find some dimes. But Bea did get through.
\nPerty soon she came back all smiles. Said she\u2019d talked
\nto the Chief. The Injuns were buying in. We jess had
\nto go a piece down the road to a town called Noose,
\ngo to the travelin\u2019 road show there. If we kept
\nclose to the Headfeathers and Tomahawks <\/i>booth,
\nthey\u2019d find us, cause they\u2019d know to recognize Bea.
\n<\/span>It was to be a friendly operation, so Bea told Virg
\nthere was no need for the gun, leave it in the truck.
\nNoose came by its name hones\u2019ly.\u00a0 <\/span>There had a\u2019ways
\nbeen a bit of lawlessness in that neck of the woods.
\nOnly way to bring in law \u2018n order was to hang
\nthe bad ones up one by one – talkin\u2019 about white ones too.
\nThese days, Noose is a fine place to raise big families,
\nhow come Swamp Carnival comes twice t\u2019a year
\nto Noose, there bein\u2019 so many young\u2019uns, nothin\u2019 else
\nto do \u2018cept play in bayous with gators and snapping turtles.
\nSwamp Carnival gave the kids something diff\u2019rent to do.
\nDidn\u2019t have kootch shows. It was good, clean family fun.
\nWhen I was a boy I a\u2019ways got sick at carnivals.
\nAfter, never cotton\u2019d much to care\u2019mel or cotton candy,
\nthough it was the rolly-coaster made me up-chuck
\nthose roasted marshmallows and a Mars Bar.
\nI\u2019m not the only one, never seen a sideshow
\ndidn\u2019t smell like puke and piss. Good lesson
\nfor kids out there to learn: puke and shit and also sump\u2019um
\nelse — tell you about that later, kids — is what makes
\nlife turn. Plus food, a place to sleep, once in a while \u2018nuff
\nhot water to warsh up, clothes to wear, a place
\nto get out-a the hot and the cold. That\u2019s the start of the list,
\ngoes on, depending on your peculiar wants and needs.
\nAlso a-course, there\u2019s the oppertunity to talk
\nand lissen to others, laugh a bit, share stories,
\nmake a friend or two. \u2018Z what humans do, right?<\/p>\n

We found the midway and the sideshow, following
\nthe trace of smells. Had to git pass all kind-a temptations:
\nDuck Pond<\/i>, Ballons and Darts<\/i>, lots of queasy rides,
\nTilt-a-Whirl<\/i>, Zipper<\/i>, Ferris Wheel<\/i>. Others I never seen.
\nEasy mark he was, Virg made us stop to throw
\nsoftballs at enough bottles till he finally won Bea
\nchoice of any gift on the top row.\u00a0 <\/span>Couldn\u2019t believe it,
\nshe was jess like a little girl, took the pink teddy-bear.
\nAla-ga-zam, come see The Alligator Man<\/i>,
\na carny barked out. Sword-Swallower, Crawdad-Woman,
\n<\/i>Lovin\u2019 Werewolves, Amorous Pythons<\/i>, Siamese Triplets<\/i>.
\nTell the truth, don\u2019t much like all them freaks,
\npresty-digitation, cutting ladies in half,
\nnaked or not, pullin\u2019 things out-a hats, throwin\u2019 knives.
\nBut that\u2019s where our friends the Injuns were waitin\u2019.
\nWhen the Swamp Carnival came to Noose they drove
\nover from the reservation, booked a show, dressed
\nup in Injun regalia, head-dresses and buckskins.
\nThen demonstrated on volunteers from the audience
\ntheir skills with bows and arrows and tomahawks,
\nwhich they throw better than white people knives.
\nReal Injuns dressed up to perform like Injuns?
\nThat didn\u2019t make any business sense to me.
\nProbably a cheaper way to do it.\u00a0 <\/span>But I\u2019m not here
\nto blame the Injuns.\u00a0 <\/span>Everybody\u2019s gotta earn a livin\u2019.
\nIf you\u2019re an Injun, a Stunted Dwarf, a Bearded Lady,
\na Tattoo\u2019d Circassian or a Lobster Boy: sorry, bad
\nluck, but better to get paid to act out who you are
\nopposed to Workin\u2019 Hard at Who You Ain\u2019t<\/i> –
\nway HubCap put it, and he had it right.<\/p>\n

The Chief was short a right arm, had a lazy left
\neye too, like it run in the family.\u00a0 <\/span>The arm,
\neither he\u2019d under-estimated a gator\u2019s reach
\nor sump\u2019un went badly wrong with a tomahawk.
\nChief threw good southpaw though. Couldn\u2019t be the arm
\nhe started with, the gator wud\u2019ve chomped that one off.
\nWe didn\u2019t get to watch much-a the show before
\none of \u2018em spotted Bea, climbed down from the stage,
\ndoffed his head-dress and invited her up
\nto a round of applause. Seems Bea\u2019d done this kind-a
\nthing before. She took a bow, or whatever it is women
\ndo when they cross their legs and bend down, went
\nright over to the target board, refused the blindfold
\nand stared right back at the Chief who, with Bea
\nsmilin\u2019, not even a flinch, spun tomahawks at her,
\nlanding one on each side of her face, close as a shave.
\nThe last he put delicately between her knees.<\/p>\n

At this point, I began thinkin\u2019 I\u2019d had maybe
\ntoo much dope.\u00a0 <\/span>So I turned to Virg, to see how
\nhe was takin\u2019 all this.\u00a0 <\/span>No one had invited him<\/i> up.
\nAnd there was a strong-lookin\u2019 Injun standing between
\nhim and the stage stairs they had escorted Bea up.
\nBut Virg was smilin\u2019. Bea was the woman of his dreams.
\nWoman could do that, could probably do \u2018most
\nanything. Virg, you\u2019ve come to see, was in love.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

8 – One Smell and Another <\/b><\/p>\n

Soon the show was over. The Chief came down to see
\nme, not Virg. Done the right thing. Bea musta tol\u2019 him
\nI ran the show here on the road. It was my truck.
\nHe took my right hand in his left, way amputees do,
\nshook me greetin\u2019s in a manly way. Got the samples<\/i>,
\nhe axed. I shore did, but it made me nervous passing
\nhere in plain view of these upright Christian families.
\nDon\u2019t worry<\/i>, the Chief said, Peckers can\u2019t tell the diff\u2019rence
\n<\/i>\u2018tween one smell and another<\/i>. The Injuns proposed
\nto try it in their peace pipe during the intermission
\nup there on the stage. Folks like to see Injuns smoking,
\ndon\u2019t expect\u2019em not to drink. Injuns do what they want.
\nSo they climbed on the platform, leaving us below,
\nall sitting in a circle with Bea, now adorned with beads.<\/p>\n

Out-a his pocket, the Chief pulled this peace pipe
\nmade from bone, danglin\u2019 bright feathers, same colors
\nas the tomahawks and the head-dress.
\nHe lit it with a lighter, looked like a Zippo, took the first
\ntoke, held it in for a long while, then passed it on.
\nRound the circle, all of \u2018em held it in real good.
\n<\/span>Solemn enough, these Injuns, contemplatin\u2019 the value
\nof smoke for its own pleasure but for the market too.
\nSecond round went even better. They couldn\u2019t hold it
\nin anymore. One by one they burst into fits of giggles.
\nGood sign for our business venture, I thought.
\n<\/span>I knew it was powerful shit but didn\u2019t know how it
\naffected Injuns, sensibilities different from our own.
\nBea came down from the stage, tol\u2019 us deal done.
\nThey\u2019d cancel the last show, meet us in an hour
\nat a place Bea somehow knew, a clearin\u2019 in the pines
\ndown a country road, called H-U-M-M-A\u00a0 <\/span>O-F-I<\/i>,
\nwhich means, she said, Red Dog <\/i>or Dog Red<\/i>, dependin\u2019
\non how you thought of blood and blood ceremonies.
\nCan\u2019t tell ya why it was Dog<\/i>. The so\u2019l was<\/em> red,
\nbut weren\u2019t no dogs, jess a swamp, more like a slough.
\nWe\u2019d finish the deal there, hand off dope and money,
\nlong as the buyers got a chance to make sure the shit
\nwas the shit they\u2019d had up on the stage. Fair enough.
\nKnew it was the same, had had a lot. No problem letting
\n\u2018em check and see. They\u2019d jess get that much higher.
\nOn our side, I let Virg count the money, cause
\nhe a\u2019ways likes numbers, seein’ they come one
\nafter another in reliable rows. Twenty grand,
\nthe sum. You might think a lot for Injuns to come up
\nwith all a-sudden. But these Injuns\u2019d been in business
\nfor a while. They don\u2019t gamble, help others to do it.
\nJess want the freedom to trade, only be left alone.
\nThings went well. When we were fine\u2019ly shakin\u2019 hands,
\neveryone takin\u2019 into account the Chief\u2019s missin\u2019 one —
\n<\/span>I swear you not — fireworks started goin\u2019 off back over
\nthe pine trees. Last night of the traveling roadshow.
\nSwamp Carnival was gonna have to move on.
\nBangs kept comin\u2019 a second or so after the eruptions
\nof light. One Mississippi, Two Mississippi,<\/i> miles away.
\n<\/span>We watched these blossoms bursting out in silence
\nthen heard their booms, the streamers already ash.<\/p>\n

We drove far enough towards somewhere big
\nto find a fancy motel we figured we could now afford.
\nTook a whole suit, ordered room service ice and whisky
\nplus some Coke for Bea. Food was no good. We didn\u2019t care,
\nall properly tired from our long and profitable day.
\nSo Virg and Bea took the door to the other room, Virg
\nkeepin\u2019 the stash bag. I fell asleep in front of the TV.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

9 – When to Lie\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

Shee-it, Johnny<\/i>.\u00a0 <\/span>First sound I heard at dawn, Virg
\nshaking my shoulder, this time no hand on my mouth.
\nWe got big trouble. She gone, she took the cash.
\n<\/i>He didn\u2019t get into any nitty-gritty but that night
\nshe took him for quite a ride, spurred him on till
\nhe passed out in a drowsy tangle of arms and legs.
\nSoon as he pried his eyes open, he went groping for her,
\nwho’d held her body, not soul, most of the night long.
\nFigured she’d gone to the crapper. She didn’t come back.
\nThought he’d better find the keys. He’d put ’em on
\nthe chester drawers beside the gun. They were there,
\nthe keys, but not the sack of loot off his side-a the bed.
\nWithout pulling on his boots, he rushed outside.
\nTook him a while, standin’ there, to think things through.
\nThis here Bea’d taken not just Virg but me for a ride —
\nthough I gave her credit for havin’ left the keys.
\nIn my mind\u2019s eye I saw her out there in the dark,
\nlittle stash bag hanging across her comely hip,
\none of them smooth legs thown into the headlights.
\nMaybe there was others expectin\u2019 her out there,
\nPartners, Pimps or Injuns, don\u2019t know. We ain\u2019t gonna
\ngo to Sparks City to find out. The story\u2019s almost over.
\nVirg didn’t care about the money: Bea’d left him.
\nWas all that mattered for him. So for a couple-a
\ndays I was stuck with him playin like a broke record,
\n<\/span>more like a jukebox full of HubCap tunes you’ve heard
\nfor sure: Just Testing<\/i> My Love, The World We\u2019ll Be
\n<\/i>Together In<\/i>, Wherever I Look All I See Is You<\/i>.
\nBorn in heartbreak, heartbreak makes us sing.
\nThose who can\u2019t sing for shit jess mumble along,
\nmanglin\u2019 the words. Don’t matter a bit. We all
\nknow what the words are cause we all got down
\npat what it means to want, briefly hold, then lose.
\nVirg was all eat up, crippled sick with heartbreak.
\nThe test of true friendship is knowing when to lie.
\nCudn’t. Virg knew, we know, they never come back.
\nNow the only life left to Virg and me, now on the run
\nfrom our own home town was the road before us,
\n<\/span>through the forest, past thickets and brambles it’s easy
\nto lose the way in, hovels someone else calls home.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

10 – All There Was Before <\/b><\/p>\n

I was riding shotgun, should\u2019ve been at the wheel.
\nJust above the trees herds of purple clouds
\nstampeeded wild across swollen bruises in the sky.
\nThe wind kicked back at Virg\u2019s hands, his knuckles
\ngripped hard to the naugahyde-wrapped rim.
\nHail pelted the windshield, piled up in slush
\non the shoulders and the cracked asphalt slabs.
\nA funny kind of twilight came down on Virg and me.
\nHe turned: Sorry, Johnny, Screwed up Bad.
\n<\/i>He was quotin\u2019 HubCap a-course but it applied.
\nThen at that very moment, things got real loud.
\nA twister crossed the road a football field ahead,
\nripping up the Lord knows what, turning into junk
\nall there was before. I saw the makings of a house
\nwhirl by, fiberboard panels in the air, dish-pans,
\na closet of clothes. I swan a barbecue pit flew by.
\nThe Chevy rattled and shook but stuck to the ground.
\nThen Virg leaped down from the cab, tossed me
\nthe keys, headed the direction destruction went.
\n<\/span>Silence returned with a strange light.\u00a0 <\/span>Cross the clearing
\nI could see his back as he strode single-mindedly away.
\nNever saw the man again, know he ain’t coming back.<\/p>\n

So I gassed it, rev\u2019ed her up, laid some rubber out.
\nHow I got here now and where I went then
\nthere is no way I can say. In HubCap’s words<\/span> \u2014
\n<\/i>you know the song \u2014 My Only Home\u2019s the Road.<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This is the original Road House, a comic narrative poem in Southern speech more precisely \u201cTexas Tawk\u201d – a language I more or less forgot over the years. It has been retitled and rewritten in rhyming couplets, as Shinny-Dipping with Alligators, which text will appear here when it is completed. Parental guidance warning to Ladies … <\/p>\n

Continue reading “The Original Road House”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/entwistedtongues\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/352"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/entwistedtongues\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/entwistedtongues\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/entwistedtongues\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/entwistedtongues\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=352"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/entwistedtongues\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/352\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":475,"href":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/entwistedtongues\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/352\/revisions\/475"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/entwistedtongues\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=352"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}