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Parting Gifts
Dixon Hearne “That clabber-headed bitch! Ain’t got sense enough to change her drawers. If he wants to take up with her, so be it!” Bertie crossed her skinny legs and set her foot to pumping, so mad she could chew nails. “I’d love to take a tire tool to that trashy tramp – her and her damn mama both. She ain’t fit to tie his shoes – the two-timin’ bastard!” By now, it was four o’clock, and no sign of Ray Earl. Bertie knew right where she might find the two of them though – over at the Play Time Club. Hugged up in a back booth somewhere, hidden in their own smoke and chugging cheap beer by the keg. After all, that was how she had met the man herself, “that silver-tongued bar jackal!” Just the thought of it brought an angry glow to her face, and she was soon back on her feet again, swearing to the Lord and taking the man’s name in vain. This time, she was hell bent and determined to catch him red-handed. Tired of listening to her daughter go on and on, the older woman attempted to talk some sense into her. She reminded her of the last time she charged off to the Play Time over some sorry man – and came home with a broken jaw. It took her six months to get enough strength back to chew bread. And even though she knew it was no use trying to reach her, it was her duty as a decent mother to point it out. But Bertie – bless her heart – was out the door before she could finish her last sentence. By the time she reached the Play Time, the Friday crowd had filled up the parking lot, and she had to park two blocks away. The summer heat had baked the asphalt so hot it stuck to her sandals, which made her just that much madder. It was all she could do to keep from slapping the bouncer wall-eyed when he pointed and laughed at her sticky feet. But she was determined to sneak in without being noticed. Foolishly, she quickly realized she could have knocked the door slap off the hinges without being noticed – over the din of loud, worthless drunks swarmed around the bar like a beehive. Air thick with the stench of sweat and cheap perfume, and the Dixie Chicks adding their two cents worth to the trashy mix. Nonetheless, it was everything she might expect to find – everything except for Ray Earl. Then, sudden as an urge, she spotted her quarry at the far end of the room, just as she had imagined – arms around the other woman, a vulgar grin on his face. But the two were not alone. A heavy-set woman with red-dyed hair piled high and wide plopped down across from them and now blocked her view. This sent her blood pressure so high she was ready to snatch Miss Fatso completely baldheaded. And then she remembered what her mama had told her, and she thought about how it embarrassed her so when she got her jaw broke by that diesel-driving hussy in this very room. Even still, she was not about to let Ray Earl get away with this. Her nerve grew stronger with each chorus of “Honky Tonk Angel”, until at last she was ready to face a lion with a switch. Confidently, coolly, she made her way through the crowd and over to the couple’s little love booth. Startled at the woman’s sudden appearance, the man choked on his beer and broke into uncontrollable coughing. Rhonda Fay – the other woman – just sat there with a hateful smirk on her face, raising one eyebrow in defiance. At first, nobody spoke a word. Faces and gestures said it all – until the big woman with the big hair opened her big mouth. “And just who might you be, honey? And what do you mean comin’ over here and interruptin’ our conversation? Ain’t you got no manners?” The woman turned to Rhonda Fay, as if for some explanation, noticed the nasty smirk on Rhonda’s face, and then quickly pouted up one of her own. It didn’t take much to see these two had been cut from the same piece of yardage. The stares grew even more intense as Ray Earl regained his breathing. And then – lo and behold – in walks Rhonda’s mama. Shoving her way through the crowd, handing out insults left and right. It was easy to see where Rhonda Fay got her ways. Her mama had the nastiest mouth and rudest manners in town, and she just hated Bertie. Told everybody, “Bertie Crider and her damn mama think they’re better’n the rest of us over at the trailer park. Just cause they got a corner lot and a side yard!” When the woman caught sight of Bertie hovering over the booth, cross-armed, she knew it was about to hit the fan. Ray Earl and Rhonda were caught red-handed. “Well, ain’t this a damn mess,” she muttered to herself, “and that lard-butted Nettie Cramer settin’ right there in the big middle of it.” For a full moment she could not move. She just stood watching the animated exchange of words and gestures between Bertie and Ray Earl – couldn’t make out a word with the jukebox blaring. Then suddenly, Ray Earl was on his feet, shaking his finger sternly in Bertie’s face, that is till she finally got tired of it and bopped him on the head with her purse. At this point, Rhonda Fay came out of her seat and jerked the man back down. No problem hearing her loud mouth over the jukebox, a voice just like her mama’s – carried for miles. She lit into Bertie like a magpie, yelling and calling her every filthy name in the book. Told her Ray Earl and she had been slipping around for months now, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. It was all Ray Earl could do to keep the woman from climbing over the table after Bertie. Pretty soon, even big Nettie chimed in, and before long they had attracted the attention of half the bar. “What in hell are you doin’ here?” a big voice boomed. It was Rhonda’s mama, now charging across the room in their direction. “Can’t you see this man ain’t got no use for you anymore? Him and Rhonda Fay is gettin’ married!” At this announcement, Bertie backed off a bit. She could not believe Ray Earl would be so stupid. She still loved the man, to be sure, but this was more insult than she could stand. And she was not about to let them off lightly. Her pride and self-respect meant more to her than the loss of a sorry S.O.B. like Ray Earl to the town skank. It was now her turn to unload, and she let them have it with both barrels. Backed Rhonda Fay all the way down into her seat again and left Ray Earl squirming with a fiery tongue-lashing nobody knew she had in her. Even shut Rhonda’s mama up – twice in mid sentence – when she tried to intercede. Big Nettie was beside herself, all this screaming and fit pitching, and not a person in the bar willing to get involved. Not until Rhonda Fay finally came unglued. In a split second, the table had turned – literally – and beer bottles and drinks went flying. In her rage to escape from the booth, Rhonda managed to shove Nettie Sue onto the floor – BAM – flat on her ample bottom, leaving Ray Earl wedged in the booth after Nettie’s weight had separated the seat from its frame. With Nettie now floundering and flopping around in a pool of beer and Jack Daniels, neither of them could prevent the inevitable. Bertie had Rhonda Fay by a shank of her stringy hair, shaking her about like a rag doll. And soon enough they were punching and slapping and cussing a blue streak. Someone yelled for the bouncer, but he had stepped out to his pick-up truck. One old drunk attempted to separate the two, but they waylaid the man and he was dragged off moaning low. Seeing that Bertie was getting the better of her daughter, Rhonda’s mama got in an angry kick every chance she got. With Ray Earl still stuck in the booth and Nettie Sue still flopping around, there was no one even interested in bothering with the bouncer now. The cussing and yelling grew louder and louder, egged on by Rhonda Fay’s mama. Then suddenly, the hateful woman turned and disappeared, only to return seconds later with a pool cue in her hand. She would teach little Miss Bertie a thing or two – even if her daughter could not. The two women were now rolling around and around on the floor, to the cheers of a drunken mob fired up by blouses being ripped in every direction. The woman moved in closer, waiting, just waiting for a good whack at Bertie. And then it came, the split second she needed to deliver the blow. With all her might, she clutched the cue and drew back to strike, when suddenly she felt a heavy C-R-R-R-ACK! To her bitter surprise, someone had parted her hair with a beer bottle; she went completely limp and hit the floor with a THUD. The very last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was the angry face of Bertie’s mama. She, too, had a daughter she loved very much. It was a sobering event, even for the Play Time crowd, and the squabble was soon brought to an end after the older woman hit the floor. Bertie and Rhonda Fay were dragged off in different directions, still kicking and cussing. It took four men to get big Nettie upright again, but they left Ray Earl stuck in the crack – it just seemed the right thing to do. Rhonda’s mama was hauled off by paramedics, with a nasty lump on her head, and the Play Time crowd went right on with their drinking. It should have all ended there, except for the threats of lawsuits and such. But two days later, Rhonda Fay called Bertie’s mama up on the phone. “What gall!” the woman thought. She could hardly believe her ears. It wasn’t vengeance or restitution or even hush money the piece of trash wanted. What she wanted was to know if she and her mama could drop by for a visit. And, oh by the way, they would be bringing a man along with a video camera. A man from that Maury Povich Show. And would that be all right? It would mean a free trip for all of them – but everybody had to be there. Incensed, the woman hung up the phone right in her face. “Maury Povich! How dare her?” She’d never heard of such ill manners in all her born days. The show airs next week. |
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