Post by Bubba on Sept 29, 2015 3:35:17 GMT -5
*whack* *Whack* *Whack*
The rhythmic sound of a bladed tool meeting thick rope-like vegetation slowly brings him out of unconsciousness. Sighing and stretching before ever opening his eyes his thoughts wonder a while.
“I wonder what that fool is up too. I mean it can’t be any later than 7 in the morning…”
*Whack* *Whack* *Whack*
Gasping as he sits up startled that he had fallen back to sleep he wipes dry calloused hands over his rummy eyed face. Pulling himself up to a seated position he watches dust swirl in the air in the early morning sun. Clothes and other sundry objects litter the floor, dirty dishes and boxes of comic books are stacked some three high. Blowing out a gusty sigh dust again begins a new course around his bedroom. As he swings his legs over the bed he gasps as his feet touch the floor.
“Damn that’s chilly!”
Shivering, our intrepid redneck rubs his arms briskly against the morning chill. Standing he dances around as he looks for his clothes trying to get his blood pumping. Peaking outside he smiles in anticipation for the work to come.
“I gotta get out there quick!”
Rushing out the bedroom door and down the hall he bounds into the kitchen almost running his poor old grand mamma over in the process. Spinning at the last second he grabs an apple out of the fruit bowl sitting on the table as he blows past.
“Sorry Grand Mamma I got work to do! I’m late already!”
“Of course you are child!” Grand Mamma replies “He’s been out there for over an hour already.”
Grand mamma’s thick southern accent chases him out the back door as he stops to let his eyes adjust to the morning light. Blinking several times to regain focus and continue on his way he looks on in the distance at the blurry figure working at hacking the vines away from the old garage. Stepping forward he rubs his eyes hard and looks again as the figure comes into focus. The tall muscular bare backed body slick with sweat and tattooed stands arm raised, ready to deliver another blow.
“Pa? Is that you? What are you doing out here, you should be resting inside!”
Half turning a visibly damaged Bubba Reece lowers the machete and calls out.
“I need something in here and there is only one way to get to it.”
“I can do that for ya pa, you just need to give me the machete…crap pa you’re bleedin again.”
Stepping up to his battered father Gabriel, the 15 year old junior redneck, puts a hand on his dad’s shoulder, pulling his dad around to face him Gabriel’s face scrunches into a frown. Several bandages cover the spike wounds that were inflicted by a heinous blindside attack from the coward known as Braddock. Gabriel quickly counts at least 2 bandages leaking. Blood and sweat mixed run down Bubba’s chest staining his camo cut offs a deep crimson.
“Yeah I started leakin a while ago but I need what’s inside here before my next match.”
Turning back to face his adversary once again Bubba raises his machete filled hand only to drop it as he wipes blood that had found its way into his eye. Reaching down Bubba feels around for the machete in the discarded bits of vine and moss, the strong smell of freshly cut vegetation stinging his nose. Shaking his head sending drops of blood spraying around him in an arc. Not finding the dropped machete Bubba opens his eyes again only to see his thinner more lithe bodied son holding it.
“Looking for this pa? Move so I can get in there, I can get this done faster than you can.”
“You ain’t got enough lead in your butt for this job son now hand over the blade.”
Laying the back edge of the machete on his shoulder Gabriel shakes his head.
“There ain’t no way you’re gonna get this from me pa, and if you try I will tell Grand mamma you're bleedin again.”
Raising his hands in submission Bubba steps to the side smiling. Bending down to clear the space he had been working in of cut vines Bubba’s vision explodes in bursts of color and sparks. Swaying Bubba collapses in a heap in front of his son. Feeling as though his head is wrapped in several layers of gauze the ragin redneck hears his son yelling something he can’t seem to wrap his befuddled brain around. Suddenly strong calloused hands grasp him under the arms and hoist him back to his feet.
“Come on pa you gotta work with me! One foot in front of the other...that’s right”
Willing his limbs to work Bubba and Gabriel begin the long arduous journey back to the house where he can rest and get patched up once again. As the two Reece boys enter the house through the back door grand mamma is already setting out needed medical supplies to begin the healing process anew.
“That fool child ain’t never gonna heal up in time to make it to his next fight. Lay him on the couch so I can get to work. Now get out there and finish what he started…”
“But grand mamma I don’t even know what it is he wants…”
“Just get the garage door open, I’ll go find what he wants.”
Shaking his head Gabriel turns and with a last glance at his unconscious father he heads out the door and back to the vine covered garage picking up the machete as he passes by.
*Whack* *whack* *whack*
The rhythmic sound of a bladed tool meeting thick rope-like vegetation slowly brings him out of unconsciousness. Sighing and stretching before ever opening his eyes he groans and turns to the side retching into the waiting trash bin held by ancient yet sturdy hands.
“Sick it up my poor boy its ok you’ll survive this I promise you that. Your granddaddy would be proud of you!”
Bubba’s grizzled grandmother croons soothingly to her battered grandson like she has done so many times before. Holding his head up as he vomits she thinks back remembering all the scraped knees, stinging nettles, bee stings and bug bites she had to smooth over for the then accident prone Bubba. Wiping too late at a tear that has escaped and ran down the deep lines etched in her face, she smiles and again croons to her beleaguered boy.
*Whack* *whack* “Finally!”
The enthusiastic statement is heard more as a triumphant cry rather than a statement of finality. Bursting through the back door Gabriel stops short as he takes in the dramatic scene of his father in a vulnerable way. Casting his eyes down more out of sorrow and respect rather than disgust or disdain Gabriel clears his throat and speaks.
“Grand mamma I made it through the vines, the garage door is open.”
Looking up Viola May Reece nods her approval at her great grandson.
“Good, you sit here with him while I go after what he seeks.”
Sniffing indignantly Gabriel again casts his gaze to the floor, this time out of fear of the look his grand mamma gave him for making such a noise. Without saying another word grand mamma Reece stands and moving with a purpose steps out the back door walking briskly to the now cleared garage door. The setting sun casting strange shadows from the mangled vines hanging in tatters from the garage. Stepping inside she waits for her eyes to adjust to the low light levels. Slowly making her way through the stacks of boxes and broken down Studebaker, Viola May reaches a shelf covered wall and sneezes mightily as a cloud of dust kicks up when she sets her hand down on the waist level shelf. Wiping her nose and eyes Viola begins rummaging around on each shelf until finally she finds what she is looking for. A dust covered wooden box a little smaller than a shoe box with a hinged lid. Through the dust on the lid a small brass name plate reads Melvin “Bubba” Reece. Turning the aged matriarch retraces her steps out of the garage stopping briefly to run a loving hand over the dust covered fender of the well-worn Studebaker truck, another day she would be back out to care for this dear old friend. Returning to the house she stops in the kitchen to clean the dust off the wooden box. Admiring the box in the soft glow from the ceiling light wrinkled hands become soft as silk as she turns the box over again and again. The deep mahogany stained an even deeper reddish brown Viola gathers herself and moves on to the living room where Gabriel at least is anxiously waiting.
“Well grand mamma what is it?”
Gabriel near vibrating with anticipation smiles as he helps his dad to a sitting position. Bubba now clear headed looks on more nervous than excited. Viola sits next to him and hands the box to Bubba patting him on the back of the hand as she does.
“I know your granddaddy would want you to have this Bubba it meant a lot to him when they gave it to him.”
“Open it pa!”
Sighing Bubba unlatches the lid and slowly raises the rich mahogany box top. Inside black crushed velvet cradles a pair of thick black leather gloves. Lifting one out reverently Bubba turns it over in his hands, nodding his approval he sets it aside and glancing down notices an inscription written on the inside of the box lid. Breathing in Bubba begins to read.
“For 50 years of exemplary service to the Lizard Gizzard Coal Mining Company Melvin “Bubba” Reece is awarded the black hands.”
“Now I have a black hand of my own looks like. I’ll need to modify it a bit you think granddaddy will mind grand mamma?”
“Nah Bubba he won’t mind seein how he’s been dead for more than 40 years…”
Smiling and shaking his head Bubba chuckles as he begins planning his revenge.
The rhythmic sound of a bladed tool meeting thick rope-like vegetation slowly brings him out of unconsciousness. Sighing and stretching before ever opening his eyes his thoughts wonder a while.
“I wonder what that fool is up too. I mean it can’t be any later than 7 in the morning…”
*Whack* *Whack* *Whack*
Gasping as he sits up startled that he had fallen back to sleep he wipes dry calloused hands over his rummy eyed face. Pulling himself up to a seated position he watches dust swirl in the air in the early morning sun. Clothes and other sundry objects litter the floor, dirty dishes and boxes of comic books are stacked some three high. Blowing out a gusty sigh dust again begins a new course around his bedroom. As he swings his legs over the bed he gasps as his feet touch the floor.
“Damn that’s chilly!”
Shivering, our intrepid redneck rubs his arms briskly against the morning chill. Standing he dances around as he looks for his clothes trying to get his blood pumping. Peaking outside he smiles in anticipation for the work to come.
“I gotta get out there quick!”
Rushing out the bedroom door and down the hall he bounds into the kitchen almost running his poor old grand mamma over in the process. Spinning at the last second he grabs an apple out of the fruit bowl sitting on the table as he blows past.
“Sorry Grand Mamma I got work to do! I’m late already!”
“Of course you are child!” Grand Mamma replies “He’s been out there for over an hour already.”
Grand mamma’s thick southern accent chases him out the back door as he stops to let his eyes adjust to the morning light. Blinking several times to regain focus and continue on his way he looks on in the distance at the blurry figure working at hacking the vines away from the old garage. Stepping forward he rubs his eyes hard and looks again as the figure comes into focus. The tall muscular bare backed body slick with sweat and tattooed stands arm raised, ready to deliver another blow.
“Pa? Is that you? What are you doing out here, you should be resting inside!”
Half turning a visibly damaged Bubba Reece lowers the machete and calls out.
“I need something in here and there is only one way to get to it.”
“I can do that for ya pa, you just need to give me the machete…crap pa you’re bleedin again.”
Stepping up to his battered father Gabriel, the 15 year old junior redneck, puts a hand on his dad’s shoulder, pulling his dad around to face him Gabriel’s face scrunches into a frown. Several bandages cover the spike wounds that were inflicted by a heinous blindside attack from the coward known as Braddock. Gabriel quickly counts at least 2 bandages leaking. Blood and sweat mixed run down Bubba’s chest staining his camo cut offs a deep crimson.
“Yeah I started leakin a while ago but I need what’s inside here before my next match.”
Turning back to face his adversary once again Bubba raises his machete filled hand only to drop it as he wipes blood that had found its way into his eye. Reaching down Bubba feels around for the machete in the discarded bits of vine and moss, the strong smell of freshly cut vegetation stinging his nose. Shaking his head sending drops of blood spraying around him in an arc. Not finding the dropped machete Bubba opens his eyes again only to see his thinner more lithe bodied son holding it.
“Looking for this pa? Move so I can get in there, I can get this done faster than you can.”
“You ain’t got enough lead in your butt for this job son now hand over the blade.”
Laying the back edge of the machete on his shoulder Gabriel shakes his head.
“There ain’t no way you’re gonna get this from me pa, and if you try I will tell Grand mamma you're bleedin again.”
Raising his hands in submission Bubba steps to the side smiling. Bending down to clear the space he had been working in of cut vines Bubba’s vision explodes in bursts of color and sparks. Swaying Bubba collapses in a heap in front of his son. Feeling as though his head is wrapped in several layers of gauze the ragin redneck hears his son yelling something he can’t seem to wrap his befuddled brain around. Suddenly strong calloused hands grasp him under the arms and hoist him back to his feet.
“Come on pa you gotta work with me! One foot in front of the other...that’s right”
Willing his limbs to work Bubba and Gabriel begin the long arduous journey back to the house where he can rest and get patched up once again. As the two Reece boys enter the house through the back door grand mamma is already setting out needed medical supplies to begin the healing process anew.
“That fool child ain’t never gonna heal up in time to make it to his next fight. Lay him on the couch so I can get to work. Now get out there and finish what he started…”
“But grand mamma I don’t even know what it is he wants…”
“Just get the garage door open, I’ll go find what he wants.”
Shaking his head Gabriel turns and with a last glance at his unconscious father he heads out the door and back to the vine covered garage picking up the machete as he passes by.
*Whack* *whack* *whack*
The rhythmic sound of a bladed tool meeting thick rope-like vegetation slowly brings him out of unconsciousness. Sighing and stretching before ever opening his eyes he groans and turns to the side retching into the waiting trash bin held by ancient yet sturdy hands.
“Sick it up my poor boy its ok you’ll survive this I promise you that. Your granddaddy would be proud of you!”
Bubba’s grizzled grandmother croons soothingly to her battered grandson like she has done so many times before. Holding his head up as he vomits she thinks back remembering all the scraped knees, stinging nettles, bee stings and bug bites she had to smooth over for the then accident prone Bubba. Wiping too late at a tear that has escaped and ran down the deep lines etched in her face, she smiles and again croons to her beleaguered boy.
*Whack* *whack* “Finally!”
The enthusiastic statement is heard more as a triumphant cry rather than a statement of finality. Bursting through the back door Gabriel stops short as he takes in the dramatic scene of his father in a vulnerable way. Casting his eyes down more out of sorrow and respect rather than disgust or disdain Gabriel clears his throat and speaks.
“Grand mamma I made it through the vines, the garage door is open.”
Looking up Viola May Reece nods her approval at her great grandson.
“Good, you sit here with him while I go after what he seeks.”
Sniffing indignantly Gabriel again casts his gaze to the floor, this time out of fear of the look his grand mamma gave him for making such a noise. Without saying another word grand mamma Reece stands and moving with a purpose steps out the back door walking briskly to the now cleared garage door. The setting sun casting strange shadows from the mangled vines hanging in tatters from the garage. Stepping inside she waits for her eyes to adjust to the low light levels. Slowly making her way through the stacks of boxes and broken down Studebaker, Viola May reaches a shelf covered wall and sneezes mightily as a cloud of dust kicks up when she sets her hand down on the waist level shelf. Wiping her nose and eyes Viola begins rummaging around on each shelf until finally she finds what she is looking for. A dust covered wooden box a little smaller than a shoe box with a hinged lid. Through the dust on the lid a small brass name plate reads Melvin “Bubba” Reece. Turning the aged matriarch retraces her steps out of the garage stopping briefly to run a loving hand over the dust covered fender of the well-worn Studebaker truck, another day she would be back out to care for this dear old friend. Returning to the house she stops in the kitchen to clean the dust off the wooden box. Admiring the box in the soft glow from the ceiling light wrinkled hands become soft as silk as she turns the box over again and again. The deep mahogany stained an even deeper reddish brown Viola gathers herself and moves on to the living room where Gabriel at least is anxiously waiting.
“Well grand mamma what is it?”
Gabriel near vibrating with anticipation smiles as he helps his dad to a sitting position. Bubba now clear headed looks on more nervous than excited. Viola sits next to him and hands the box to Bubba patting him on the back of the hand as she does.
“I know your granddaddy would want you to have this Bubba it meant a lot to him when they gave it to him.”
“Open it pa!”
Sighing Bubba unlatches the lid and slowly raises the rich mahogany box top. Inside black crushed velvet cradles a pair of thick black leather gloves. Lifting one out reverently Bubba turns it over in his hands, nodding his approval he sets it aside and glancing down notices an inscription written on the inside of the box lid. Breathing in Bubba begins to read.
“For 50 years of exemplary service to the Lizard Gizzard Coal Mining Company Melvin “Bubba” Reece is awarded the black hands.”
“Now I have a black hand of my own looks like. I’ll need to modify it a bit you think granddaddy will mind grand mamma?”
“Nah Bubba he won’t mind seein how he’s been dead for more than 40 years…”
Smiling and shaking his head Bubba chuckles as he begins planning his revenge.