THE TOWNS END
By UC Poika
Copyright UC Poika 2012
The Smashwords Edition
Chapter 1
Fireplace
In the morning Jerome arose from the grave and proceeded to leave the cemetery without even his wrap. He could barely remember what happened the night before. All he knew for certain was that he had slept in a concrete vault which was lying on its side until he was awakened by the very loud noise of a backhoe just starting up.
“Hey! You alive down there?” the heavy equipment operator had yelled at the top of his lungs, but it was barely audible to Jerome who tried to roll over and climb out.
“Damn! I feel like I died!” Jerome said.
“He's alive!” the backhoe operator yelled to someone unseen.
Jerome finally managed to roll over, but didn't stop in time, for he was caught up in his own momentum, and rolled over enough to fall out of the vault entirely. Finding himself on the ground in front of a headstone which read, JEROME THEODORE BEOBA, he was greatly moved, to say the least.
“Jesus!” he said. “That's my name!”
He crawled closer to the object of his terror and wiped away some of the fresh dirt in an attempt to see when the occupant had expired.
“Hey! Cadaver Brain! Get the hell out of the way!”
'Cadaver Brain!' Jerome repeated in his mind. “Me?”
The big machine lowered the cement vault just inches away on the other side of the headstone, moving Jerome to act. Rising from the grave he exited the graveyard without further incident, not looking back, and not wanting to know the circumstances of the strange experience.
His keys were in the pocket of his hoodie. But, he had no desire to retrieve them. He was alive and it had been a close enough encounter with disaster to encourage him to stay far away from the grave site, so he chose to just walk the rest of the way home instead. But, to do that he would have to walk right past Angel's place.
How strange the large, red, house looked now in the daylight with Angel's bedroom window still displaying the red lampshade that had given the room an eerie, ruby red glow in the evening light the night before.
“Why have you come to see me, Sonny?” Angel had asked him.
Angel almost always called him, Sonny.
“I don't have any more money, if that is what you're fixing to ask. I ain't no fricking bank!”
Where Angel got the idea he only wanted money, Jerome had no way of knowing as her black cat suddenly stirring, walked over to Angel's ottoman, and putting its paws on the far edge seemed to look into Angel's eyes.
“What does, Zombie, want?” she said as if talking to a child. Mama's got company. It wouldn't be polite to play with your string now!”
Then the cat mewed and pawed at the ottoman again several times.
“No, Angel doesn't want to play now.”
The black cat made a noise which was part meow and apparently part intense emotion for it sounded more like it was saying, “Now!” quite loudly.
“I said, 'No,'” Angel said. Then turning to Jerome, and ignoring the cat which retreated, she said, “Come here, Sonny, and sit here beside me awhile. I haven't hardly seen anybody today. You don't mind, do you, Sonny? I mean it seems to be only fitting and the least you could do, given all the things I do for you. I love you, Sonny, but I just think I should exact what I've got coming to me, some of the time, anyway,” Angel said, patting his hand while his hand was on his own leg, and as he sat down on the couch beside her.
Then Angel cuddled next to him, and smooched him on the cheek which he immediately wiped away with his handkerchief, hoping it would not leave a lipstick smudge he might not be able to remove without a mirror's help. Angel suddenly laughed, knowing he hated that, then, just as suddenly, she became deadly serious.
“You look troubled, Sonny. Tell your only sweetheart what the matter is. Perhaps, she can help you.”
“She knows I love her,” Jerome began while Angel blushed, leaving her rouge to look extremely phony in the presence of real embarrassment. “She knows I hug and kiss her, because I want to, not because I have no choice. But she is, different.”
“She is?” Angel seemed very surprised. “My, my, what could have gotten into her?
I know,” she said playfully. “I bet she's got a new beau!”
“Don't say that!” Jerome whined. “I don't mind talking about you as if you were someone else, in fact, I enjoy it. But, I don't like it when you make light of me.”
Angel was hard pressed to contain a giggle as she moved closer and hugged her 'only beau' and allayed any doubt she loved him back with all of her heart.
“How am I different?” she suddenly asked, straightening up as if only now remembering the affront.
“You are though, Angel Honey, and you know it.”
“That depends on how you are about to define the word, 'different,' doesn't it?”
“Well,” Jerome began hesitantly. “I fear that you might be insane!”
“Me? Insane!” Angel shouted, outraged, so outraged in fact, she was seething, but silent.
“Look for instance how you act and dress.”
“What's the matter with the way I dress?” Angel sincerely wanted to know.
“You look like some old lady out of the thirties!”
“I thought-” she said as if choking on the concept. “I thought you enjoyed it.”
“Enjoy it! It's downright embarrassing!”
“Who is here to be embarrassed by it? There isn't anybody here but your only sweetheart and her own sweet beau!”
“Stop it! I'm serious!” Jerome yelled.
“I am too,” she said calmly. “Who else do we see? We never go out! Jerome, if I didn't know better I would think you were ashamed of me!”
“Sometimes I am,” he said quietly. Then, seeing it hurt her more than he expected, he sat in silence, allowing her time to recover.
“It's because I can't walk, isn't it?” she said.
He was moved to remorse.
“That's just it, Angel,” he said. “You don't know what is real any longer.”
She looked at him with intense curiosity.
“Look around you, Angel Honey. Do you see a scooter?”–
She was silent.
“Do you even see a damn walker anywhere?”
Knowing where he was going with this, she turned away, in anger.
“Do you even see a fricking pair of crutches?” he yelled.
“Don't you yell at me!” she yelled back.
“God damn it, Angel! Listen to me!” he said and suddenly stood.
Zombie rose quickly from his pillow in the pet kennel, and now stood between the two.”
And, Jerome noticed, but paid him no mind at first, then was distracted by that strange animal.
“Another thing!” he shouted very loudly, now. “What is with that damn cat?”
Zombie arched his back as if threatened.
“Now, just settle down, Zombie. He won't hurt Mama. He's just jealous because he can't play a decent role, not like we can. He's fit only to be an usher, my dear, sweet, Zombie. Show him some mercy, will you?”
“What the hell does that mean, Angel? Do you really think you're an actress playing every role that pops into your diseased mind?”
“Yes, I do.” She was crying. “Damn you! You know I always wanted to be an actress! And, I'm damn good at it too!”
He let some time pass.
“Sonny,” she said as if an older woman again. “Let's not fight. It doesn't get us anywhere.
Remember, Sonny, when we took the Packard and went for that drive and I played Miss Daisy?” How could he forget, but it wasn't a Packard but a PT Cruiser. “Remember, I made you drive, nice and slow, so we wouldn't have an accident.” She was laughing now. “And the picnic! God, how I do love a picnic!”
“I know it only too well, Angel,” he interjected in disgust, for Jerome finally had enough!
“Damn it, Angel!” he shouted. “We can't go on this way! You're insane!” The statement hurt him almost as much as it did her, he felt it so intensely.
Then Zombie suddenly lunged at Jerome's face from off the couch. It surprised him so much that he fell back and struck his head on the old fashioned heat register that no longer provided heat but was there strictly for ambiance alone.
“Ha!” she gasped. “Is he dead, Zombie?” she wondered. “Have you killed, Daddy?” Then she laughed and her laughter seemed to lash out through the window, then freely flow among the trees.
Angel, apparently snapping out of her role, said to Zombie, I presume, “Quick! Before he wakes up, let's drag him into the fireplace! He'll regret he ever attacked my Zombie!” but she said it as if pampering the cat while pretending it had actually been under attack. Then she dragged Jerome to the fireplace which had also not been used in years, and was there again, “only for the ambiance.”
When Jerome came 'to', his head was throbbing and every time it throbbed he was surprised it could hurt so much. But, when he got his bearings, he discovered he was in the fireplace and the screen blocked his only entrance back to the relative freedom of the room, reinforced by the metal gate that locked outside the screen. Therefore he sighed miserably. “Angel! Don't do this. It is not funny. I saw this movie. This is not funny at all. Angel! Let me the hell out of here!” He grabbed at the bars as he shouted the latter.
Angel rattled an aluminum cup on the bars of the gate and shouted, “The prisoner will now be silent!”
'God,' Jerome thought, trying to hope she was only being crazy in fun.
“Shut up!” she spit at him like a cat. “The prisoner is not allowed to speak! Do you hear me?”
“Angel, come on,” Jerome begged. “I have got to go to the bathroom.”
“That is not my problem, Prisoner!” she snapped.
“Yes, but it is, Angel, if I pee in your fireplace that's real, as in reality, you know? Do you have any concept left as to what that is?”
“Reality is this!” she seemed to hiss and suddenly his side seemed to be full of pain.
“What the hell is this? It hurts!” he yelled as he collapsed against the inside of the fireplace.
“And so is this!” she shouted and raised her arm violently, and Jerome felt his pee run down his leg in unison with an intense pain in his cranium, the likes of which he had never before experienced, causing him to let out a scream in sheer agony as he fell forward on his hands and knees in the resulting puddle of urine.
“You”—he tried to say feeling a stabbing pain in his chest about the heart area. “You- really- are-” is all he managed to say before he passed out.
Chapter 2
Unwanted Pregnancy
Jerome couldn't be mistaken, he could still smell the dried urine stink in his clothing amid an odd spearmint fragrance along with the unmistakable burning sensation of his skin underneath as he walked into town, where a wider range of walking areas presented themselves, glad not to have to even consider being anywhere even near, Angel's house, ever again.
But, finding himself walking by Windslow B. Beoba's statue in the town square he recalled the toilet paper streamers that had graced the statue on his way to see his Angel just yesterday.
'His Angel!' he smirked in his thinking. 'Was it really possible he had dared think of her in the same light as beauty and goodness, for that's all Angel was to him as late as just yesterday, incredible as that seemed now. 'My Angel,' he mused and then shook his head in both disgust and disbelief.
“Why won't you go out with Mavis?” Jerome's sister had been saying that afternoon. “You're not seriously considering marrying that goofball, are you?”
He recalled shaking his head in embarrassment for that was his goal in life, to marry Angel Townsend that is, if she would have him.
“I know she's got big-” his sister continued, noticing she had breached some unstated boundary between them. “Well, she does!”
Jerome just smiled and walked on; trying not to listen to the rest of what his sister had to say.
“She's a witch!” his sister whispered. “She boils herbs for the pharmaceutical rewards! That's a witch!”
At this point Jerome looked at her, not comprehending what on earth she had said.
“Drugs, Silly! She's making her own drugs, Jerome. You don't take her 'medicines' with her, do you?”
“That's silly, Sally!” he suddenly felt compelled to say. “She cooks a little wild herb tea, and to answer your question, of course I do not drink her teas. You know me, Sally; I can't stand tea, or even coffee for that matter.”
Sally grabbed his arm, causing him to look into her lovely brown eyes. “Don't,” Sally said. “Promise me you won't.” He nodded. “Ever?” He laughed. Sally stomped her right foot. “It's not funny, Jerome. We're worried about you and that Angel Townsend. One mistake and she could kill you! Promise me!” Jerome just walked away, knowing Sally was for real, and she always was. “Jerome,” she scowled. “Promise!”
However, it wasn't just Sally's opinion for he remembered that man sitting on the bench in front of old Windslow when Jerome took a rest then as he did now. He hadn't looked familiar, so Jerome asked if he was from Boobcad.
“Is that how you say it?” he laughed. “Why Bow-ob-cad?” he pronounced the town's name improperly but close enough.
“It means, town, in our language.”
“You have your own language?”
“The old country, you know.”
“Yes, there is that. But, what is your name then, if I might ask? You look familiar to me.”
“Jerome Theodore Beoba,” Jerome said, proudly.
“Beoba!” the man repeated. “Is your father, Jerome B. Beoba? Then that makes you my-?” he started to say something about how they were related Jerome presumed. “Are you related to this Windslow Beoba?” he almost chuckled.
'The late Windslow Beoba,' Jerome was thinking and smiled. Even had old Windslow himself come out of his grave to warn Jerome not to marry Angel, he was too late.
“You really should not think like that!” the man said.
'What the hell?' Jerome thought. “Like what?” he pretended he had not considered the stranger could read his mind.
“But, I can you know,” the man said.
“Can what?” Jerome was shocked. “You mean you really can-?”
“Yes,” he said “I can read your mind. Does that surprise you?”
“Bologna!” Jerome looked at him in disbelief. “Why are you pulling my leg?” But, “How is that possible?” is what Jerome was actually wanting to say, but didn't dare.
“Ever since Windslow, we Beoba men have been able to read each other's thoughts.” Jerome was spellbound and continued to sit beside the man. “I am your granduncle on your fathers' side. They call me, Cloud. Pleased to meet you, by the way,” Cloud said, extending his hand and Jerome took it, weakly, as Cloud chuckled with embarrassment. “I tell you. That girl you are seeing. This, Angel, is it this time? She's one weird woman, my boy. I would think twice on even going to her place tonight! She's a real witch, Boy! All the Townsends are. But she is one, in particular.”
“Aw!” Jerome said aloud what he thought, thinking that was apropos. “Who cares at all about that stuff anymore these days?”
“Some folks still do,” Cloud sighed and rose to walk away. “You, for instance,” he added, tipping his hat, causing Jerome to notice he was oddly dressed for this day and age, just as he reached in his suit pocket, retrieved his wallet and pulling out a bill, gave it to Jerome, who looked at it in wonder.
It was a twenty dollar gold certificate! But, when Jerome looked up to see whether Cloud was serious, he was surprised to find a slight fog had rolled in and the man was nowhere in sight, which seemed odd, but not odd enough to keep Jerome from examining the bill further. 'Twenty dollars,' he read. “1928!” he said aloud. He couldn't be sure why, but it surprised him the bill was that old, just as he notice a 1948 Packard drive past on the street, which wasn't unusual in itself, but the driver was black which was very unusual for Boobcad.
There it was again, leaving town this time. It was that same Packard. It had to be; black driver and all. But, there in the backseat, a beautiful young woman dressed as if she came out of the thirties with a big floppy hat and a tight, white dress from what Jerome could tell. Then he became distracted by Mavis Smith, walking in her own bright, white dress in the sunlight for she was wearing heels.
Just then a rabbit moved slowly next to the base of the statue, stopped and stood motionless for a while before bounding away at a terrific rate, just before a black cat, not at all unlike Zombie walked to where the rabbit had been, sniffing its droppings.
“I missed my dinner too, fellah,” Jerome said.
The cat meowed and it sounded as if it the cat had responded.
“What is with that cat?” Jerome wondered.
Jerome was almost surprised to find he was back in the present when he rose to continue his jaunt home. Noticing the cat again, he was not surprised at all to see it slink away into the undergrowth of the large park while somewhere in his mind the blonde woman smiled.
He started then to cross the street when he was nearly run over by the Maryville Ambulance Service silently heading to a fill upon gas, he assumed, but heading the wrong way if that was to take place in Boobcad somewhere.
'That's probably for another Beoba,” he tried not to think. 'There's been a rash of bad luck for the Beoba families lately and none of the Townsends. But was there any truth to the rumors, the Townsends were going to finally use their powers, once again, to drive the Beobas out, if not destroy Boobcad entirely. One thing was for sure, it was a fact not a single Townsend had died as far back as Jerome could remember.'
“Yeah, right!” he said aloud. “Angel's a witch! And I'm a Mexican jumping bean!”
But just then someone yelled, “Jerome! My Gosh! Is that you? You look like a bum. Man! What happened to you?”
Jerome turned to see who it was, but Sally was already lightly touching the scratches on his face before he even actively recognized her.
“Sis!” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“Duh! The Grantster lives right over there!” she said, pointing wildly to indicate she meant somewhere behind her. “Don't dodge my questions, Dummy. What in the living H happened to you?”
“Angel,” Jerome said, looking down in shame.
“What did she do to you? Oh, my poor baby, tell Sally all about it,” she said as she led him away back behind her, he assumed toward where Grant Jackson lived, and in a short time they were at her boyfriend's front stoop.
Grant came to the door, looking like he had been drinking half the night, and with what Jerome had heard of him, it could have been an “all-nighter” the way Grant was reputed to hold his booze.
“Can we come in?” Sally asked and Grant wobbled to the side, allowing them to pass, saying something unintelligible to Jerome as he did.
“What did he run into?” Sally repeated and Grant nodded. “Angel Townsend!” Sally frowned while Grant nodded again, this time arching his eyebrows as if genuinely impressed.
As Sally dressed his wounds, Jerome thought how unreal it had been when he came to, in a glass tank like a huge aquarium right in the middle of Angel's dad's main room, which for all practical purposes was large enough to be a ballroom in its own right.
He was lying in some sort of vegetation and it smelled like spearmint, and the cage was surrounded by green eels that crawled among each other with a nauseating writhing motion that caused Jerome to draw back in disgust at first. Then after a while he began to be strangely fascinated by the eels.
To his surprise and unmistakable fear, Angel herself, entered, stepping into the eels which were only about ankle deep by the stairs, but which got deeper and deeper as she approached the cage. Her long blonde hair covered her bare top so that her naked frame could not be seen, as if Jerome was interested at this point, with the eels coming well up above her waist. Jerome was so preoccupied by Angel's entrance that he never noticed the loud, eerie, female voices singing a song that seemed to fill the room.
However, as a door opened in the glass and eels came tumbling into the aquarium, Jerome ignored them, soon finding himself walking in the eels toward the door where Angel stood looking at him as in a trance, as she reached for something he had not seen down in among the eels, and he became very curious, only to stand aghast as she lifted a naked child from beneath the slithering, writhing eels, and held the child into the air extending both her arms upward toward the turquoise decorated high ceiling.
Jerome, distracted by the twisted, even tormented look on Angel's face didn't notice how, or when, but when he looked up at the baby he found it had turned black. As it then kicked its legs and twisted around in her arms, he thought it might fall, and fall it did, but with the loud screech of a feline in trouble, claws extending to leave long bloody scratches on Angel's arms and face as it tumbled into those damned writhing, green eels, its yowls seeming weak and muffled at first, but as the eels parted and it stood, back arched, and ready for action, it yowled as a tomcat, the cries becoming loud, then louder until they drowned out the eerie, female voices singing in some foreign tongue, and filled the dome shaped room with their sheer volume.
The wounds on Angel's face began to produce not just blood but far more of the crimson stuff of life until, leaning to comfort the cat, drops of the precious fluid landed among the eels and wherever such a droplet landed it produced frenetic activity among the slimy creatures and the strange odor akin to a spearmint smell became more and more pronounced as Jerome drew back away from the door as the eerie, black cat refused to be comforted, as with claws extended, it swatted at Angel's arms, leaving, not mere scratches, but gashes which allowed Angel's blood to exit her form in streams.
Zombie's attitude suddenly changed then, however, allowing Angel to pick it up, but as she did the black feline began to lick the blood from her hands and arms as if to apologize, bringing an odd smile to the beautiful face, which it was in fact, even though the face of an active monster.
As Angel hugged the feline to her breast, Jerome started toward the door. Unconcerned Angel allowed his exit from the aquarium among the slimy, slithering, even writhing, green eels as he watched her eyes in an attempt to gauge her intentions. The cat then stirred and he was momentarily distracted just long enough for her eyes to have become reptilian, even roughly the kind he had seen in pictures of large rattlers. Mesmerized, he moved toward her, reaching out as he did to pet the feline form as her abdomen opened up and the cat climbed cautiously inside her body cavity under the constant watch of Jerome, who appeared now to be completely under Angel's power, as she forced him to watch her abdomen close about the creature amid the muffled cries of an infant, or feline who could tell?
However, as she reached her arms for him as to hug her beloved of before, he noticed her skin was scaled with beautiful designs similar to the kind of much smaller reptiles, turquoise again with some blue lines accented with tan diamonds with black interiors, which seemed to hold his interest more than the creature he had come to know once as a deranged, but ever so lovely human female.
At the last moment, he did not allow her to hug him, but dropped to the floor and on his hands and knees crept like a dog under cover of the multitude of mingling eels toward the stairs of Angel's father's main room.
Angel was surprised as she surveyed the eel covered room unable to ascertain his whereabouts and surprised he had not been hypnotized, but had tricked her. Assuming he would make his way toward the door, she hissed loudly and made her way to the outside door where she waited, knowing Jerome had to surface somewhere, and at last he did.
However, to Angel's surprise again, he surfaced, not before her as she had surmised, but in front of the stairs, where he quickly jumped up and ran up the spiral staircase to Angel's room on the next landing, as Angel, though she hissed loudly, did not use any of her powers to paralyze him with pain in order to stop his flight.
Once in Angel's room he walked to the window and looked down where it was obviously too far for a human form to fall uninjured. Deciding then instead to move along the window ledge to a drain pipe, and ultimately to the large limb of a huge willow, then in bloom with precious flowers called pussy willows, scratching his cheek on an unseen limb as he managed it.
“Damn,” he swore now as the iodine touched the scratch.
“Sorry,” Sally said noticing Jerome was no longer lost in thought. “It was a real bummer wasn't it, brother?” she said in addition. “But, you'll live!”
But of course she had no real idea of what Jerome had been through, he thought as the frightening image of Angel looking out her window as he scrambled to his feet at the tree's base, all came back to him while Sally continued to dress his wounds.
“God!” he had cried out, back then, remembering, but not in time, her ability to inflict pain at just a glance. Then as both his legs lit up with pain, he laid down in the hope of breaking her attention long enough to reach cover believing she had to be able to see him to do it. Again he was wrong as Angel simply climbed to the window's ledge, nearly dislodging the lamp from the sill, and then dropped unharmed very near him.
“Good God!” he said, startled, but realizing he might well have guessed she could do such a thing.
“Not quite,” she said, her form having changed from more snakelike to more the human form he had once found so attractive.
Without being told he walked to the front door, dreading to even look upon the slimy green things behind the door. Unable to escape now, he turned the knob ever so slowly, opening it more and more until-!
“Howdy!” Mr. Townsend shouted suddenly pushing his face in the crack.
Jerome couldn't believe he actually screamed and Angel laughed.
“What are you kids up to?” Angel's father asked. “Say! That's a nasty scratch! I'll get some iodine. Angel can do the honors. Are you sure you want to marry her someday, Son? Something you may already know about her is that she loves to inflict pain.”
“Don't I know!” he said, remembering the pain in his legs that had subsided to a dull ache by then. But Angel caught his eye and his whole head suddenly came alive with a sharp ache.
“Headache?” Mr. Townsend asked. “I'll get some naproxin too. That'll take care of it.” Then he disappeared into what once would be the servants areas past the dining room, as Jerome noted much to his relief the eels were all gone. However, as his eyes caught the last of Mr. Townsend, he thought he saw one slimy green eel slither out of Mr. Townsend's hind pocket, and drop to the floor, but he couldn't be sure because of his state of mind at the time.
As he turned to Angel, her fist caught him in the mouth, and he stepped back into the doorway out of harm's way instinctively. He knew what it was for; he had just never expected her to punish him in quite that way. Immediately, his temper flared and he swung at her as if she were another man, or the monster she really was. His blow caught her in the abdomen.
A cat suddenly screeched and startled him, both out of his anger and his instinctive attack.
“The baby,” Angel suddenly said and rubbed her strangely flat stomach. 'Was Zombie still in there somewhere? If so, where?' he wondered as he eyed her petite midsection. “You will hurt the baby,” she frowned and punched him in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain.
“Angel Dear?” Mr. Townsend yelled from the interior. “Don't we have any naproxin? I thought we did, but I can't find any for the life of me.”
“It's up in my room!” Angel yelled back. “I'll give him some!”
“Just a couple now you know, Daughter!” her old man yelled through the open door of the kitchen area.
“I know, Daddy!”
“Father,” Jerome yelled. “We have to talk! Could we have you come in here for a short while?”
“Well,” he said loudly as he came upon them again. “I could be busy, but for you, Son, I'll do most anything. What's on your mind?”
Surprised he had gotten that far, Jerome was hesitant to say what he had planned.
“It's alright, Son,” the old man said. “I was young once too. I know what the two of you were doing up there now. I can't believe how I could have missed it while it was going on. I never should have left the two of you alone so often. I just- well, I figured you would use precautions. Do you even know what I mean by precautions, Son?”
“Daddy!” Angel protested. “Don't get all stirred up. I told you he was going to marry me anyway, didn't I?”
“Did I say that?” Jerome said.
Her eyes snapped. “You had damned well better,” she said as she glanced at his knee, which Jerome instinctively grabbed to be soon delighted she was only threatening to hurt him. “But, you know what happens when you get angry, Daddy.”
“I do!” Mr. Townsend shouted. “But does he?”
When neither answered, Mr. Townsend answered his own question, “Make damned sure he doesn't find out,” he finished and started to storm away.
“Sir!” Jerome said. “The baby! It's not-” his testicles suddenly felt like he had been kicked in the crotch as he consequently doubled over.
“What's the matter, Son?” Mr. Townsend asked, seeming genuinely concerned, and helping Jerome straighten, ever so slowly, until he was again standing fully erect, but to Jerome's surprise. “I just meant, the baby is-” he hesitated as Angel looked at him in disbelief! “Not mine!” he rushed to finish.
“What did you say, Son?” Mr. Townsend said.
“We never had sex!” Jerome said very quickly.
Mr. Townsend looked at Angel, his eyes snapping as Jerome, now emboldened, bravely said. “We didn't have to use precautions. She told me she was a virgin, Sir. I was saving her for our wedding night.”
While Jerome rattled on, he could see Mr. Townsend's temper was growing ever closer to the exploding stage.
Then to his surprise, Jerome felt himself fly through the air and hit the turquoise ceiling with a thud.
“Father!” the old man’s daughter shouted. “Let him down here, right now!” and when he did not immediately do what Angel said, she warned him by saying, “I say, right now!”
Then the two, father and daughter, stared into each other's eyes as Jerome slowly floated to the floor.
“You mean, you are not man enough to admit it?” Mr. Townsend asked when Jerome's feet finally hit the floor and he appeared to have fully recovered.
“What do you think?” Jerome said. “You could kill me anytime you want, but if I was man enough to tell you to your face what she did, don't you think I would own up to screwing that bitch!” he asked, feeling empowered by his new found position.
Chapter 3
Power Outage
All of a sudden the power went out, and the Grantster's house went dark though the morning light shined through the living room windows into the bathroom just off the den where there was not enough light to mess with Jerome's wounds any longer. I sighed with both disgust and frustration mixed before looking into my brother's eyes, seeing he was alarmed.
Jerome suddenly jumped up and ran to the front door and stood there staring at the sky. Thinking the power outage was the last straw for him, the one that finally drove him over the edge I walked slowly to the door, watching him closely, but all he did was just stand there, looking up.
“It's alright, Jerome,” I said, filled with compassion for the poor boy when I was close enough for him to hear me, but he kept looking up even as I put my hand on his shoulder.
I couldn't resist. I just knew there would be nothing to see, but I chose to look up also. However, just as I did everything went dark. It was as if someone had shut off the sun as if it were a ceiling light. I was confused. I had no way to judge what happened. Was I suddenly struck with blindness? There didn't seem to be any other explanation.
Then the Grantster came out of the house with a battery operated lantern and I sighed with relief when I saw its light shining in the darkness, as others ventured out now, all talking about what was happening. Grantster smelled of sweat and fresh cologne, and of course alcohol as he put his long arm about my waist, comforting me as no one else could.
“Where's Jerome?” he asked as one might ask where the parmesan cheese was as he looked at a plate of perfect spaghetti. I looked. He was nowhere to be seen by flashlight, but that didn't mean anything I quickly told myself.
“Jerome!” I called out.
Grantster's buddies were next door, partying with Mavis. I could hear them giggling along with her higher pitched laugh. How nice of them all to go reassure her? She was hardly the quiet type, but she just couldn't seem to keep a guy for more than a night or two at best.
I shook my head, hoping to dislodge my concerns for Mavis long enough to find my brother as I yelled, “You guys seen Jerome?” but they paid no attention. I started to walk that way, but Grantster caught my waist again, and, stopping me he said, “Try again,” and I almost heard a warning in his voice I thought. “Hey! Has anybody seen, Jerome?”
“Who?” someone in a different direction yelled as Mavis and her comforters now hushed as best they could, because they were being so silly.
“My brother! Jerome! Jerome Beoba!”
“No!” they yelled back and then yelled something I couldn't quite hear.
“What?” I shouted at the darkness in that direction as the Grantster took the light from me.
The backup generator must have finally kicked in at the Town's End Drug store for it was the only place with light in the entire neighborhood. I looked at the Grantster's shadowy face and saw the concern, but began slowly walking toward the drugstore, as everyone else was it seemed.
Personally I never went there. Their prices were way too high as were the prices in nearly every establishment owned by the Townsends. To me they were just a bunch of high priced snobs, but you know what they say; any port in a storm.
As we got closer I could see Jerome and Mr. Townsend standing out front of the store arguing. I was sure glad he was alright. I looked at Grantster. He looked at me, and I could see he'd be reluctant to rush with me, so I hesitated a moment before I ran toward my brother.
“Jerome!” I yelled as I ran, causing a break to take place in the conversation between him and Mr. Townsend.
“Sally!” he yelled. “Don't! I know what it looks like, but it's not that! Go back! Sally! Go back!”
“What?” I hollered as I stopped running and looked around to see everyone else had stopped also, judging by their lights in some cases and their profiles in others. I didn't yell it because I couldn't hear him, for I could. I yelled because I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“Why not?” I yelled as Mr. Townsend ushered Jerome inside just before the store's lights went out again.
What in the worst H I'd ever seen was going on? “Jerome!” I cried and started to run toward the store which was now completely dark just as the Grantster found me.
“Sally!” he shouted and it was as if with that one word he ordered me to stay where I was, I hoped because he was going to join me in a more sensible manner. But, as he caught my arm, he said, “Let's take his warning and go home.”
Others were retreating, I could tell by their voices and the sound of the children trying not to run, but I shook myself loose of the Grantster and took off for the store. If Jerome was in some sort of trouble with these witches I was too. But, Grantster, seeing I couldn't be stopped, shook his head and seemed to apologize with his body language at the same time, and just started to walk away.
Soon, however, I felt him grab my arm again, and when I stopped, he purposely shined the light in my face. “They are worse than witches,” he said. “They're zombies!” he warned as well as asked me whether I knew, which I didn't but I nodded anyway, so he did the same quirky body motions he had before, then turned and walked toward his own house.
Alone now, and realizing it, I proceeded more slowly, for I was much more afraid, when suddenly I fell off the sidewalk into the street!
My right knee hurt like the blazes! But, I kept quiet. Silence, I figured was my only edge. I don't know how I knew that, I just did. I just sat on my butt right there. Why not? No cars were out and about anyway. Why? I was not quite sure as I pulled up my pant leg, struggling to get it just above my knee. Then, as I lightly touched the place where it had hurt the worst, I was relieved to feel it was dry; it didn't even seem to be a scrape.
'Gosh!' I thought. 'Why was I such a baby when it came to pain? Jerome was probably being tortured or even eaten right now, and I couldn't handle a little scrape I couldn't even feel!
I rolled over and somehow got to my feet. I tried walking and limped badly at first. But, after a few steps, I was walking just fine, and I could see light from another store quite a ways away, at least, I remembered thinking it was the gas station down the street a ways.
When I got my bearings, somehow I was there already, right at the door of the store. Will miracles never cease? What now? I had no plans. I had no idea where in the store he was, or even whether Jerome was in the building at all, for they could have gone out the back and I would be none the wiser.
“Jerome!” I whimpered quietly. “What kind of trouble have you gotten your big sister in this time?”
Then I did something I really didn't intend to. I pushed on the metal bar across the door and it came open! “Ding!” a bell rang inside somewhere accompanied by a steady buzz.
“What was that?” a man whispered.
I didn't know whether to let the door close, slip inside now, or leave it as it was with the buzz continuing in a constant monotone, when suddenly the door swung open and someone grabbed me from the front and pulled me inside. “Get down!” they said but I was too startled to know whether they were male or female.
It was Jerome of course, and the disgust I felt was in his voice was because he had told me not to come. Now what?
I knelt to the floor. He put his hand on my back and flattened my torso to the cool, slippery, floor. Now, I trust Jerome with my life and all, but this was just a bit too unusual a request.
“What the H-?” I started to ask, when he put a hand over my mouth, but didn't explain.
Then there was the sound of a large electrical switch being pulled and I could hear a fan like the air conditioner had just come on. I could also feel Jerome start to crawl ahead, and winced as I joined in, imagining him to be shushing me with a lone finger before his lips somewhere in the dark.
Soon there were cautious footsteps just barely audible in the aisle behind us, but I could feel Jerome turn to the left toward the inside of the store more. Then I grabbed Jerome's heel, stopping him a moment, and we more sensed, than heard, whoever it was behind us stopping too. Jerome began to crawl less cautiously into the next aisle where I, sensing the danger, kept up with him, then laid on the floor next to my brother. Then just as the one behind seemed about to-!
The lights came on!
I barely saw Jerome jump to his feet but joined him immediately. We ran to the center aisle, out the door, into the street and down the block before we realized no one was chasing us and stopped. Then we realized that the light out of doors was a strange, eerie, sort of green color, but more blue like turquoise, that there was no wind and no sound in the streets. We turned back cautiously to view the store behind us. Its lights seemed normal, but no one was behind us.
Then Jerome looked up and began to stare at the sky again. Hesitantly, because of what happened before, I took a deep breath, and held my head so I could have looked up, but didn't dare open my eyes. When I finally did, I shouted, “Whoa!” as if it was the Fourth of July and I had just viewed some special fireworks. “What is that?” I asked in amazement as I took in the sunlight shining on what appeared to be translucent turquoise well above everything like some sort of artificial sky!
Jerome looked at me and smiled a broad, knowing smile, realizing it was my first time. I turned toward Angel's place. I turned toward the Grantster's house, and I turned toward my own home, the strange artificial sky lent an absolutely beautiful glow to Boobcad I had never seen in my wildest dreams. It was absolutely spectacular!
“The prisoners will now be silent!” the speakers nearby said very loudly as I realized they were the same ones that would be used to warn us of impending disasters like tornadoes and the like.
I covered my ears for it was far too loud where we were standing. But, what could be meant by the strange statement. And, why did Jerome suddenly bolt and take off running toward—My God! He was running toward, and not away from Angel Townsend's house! Jerome!” I yelled. Then I tried to run after him, but I was just too winded. He was the track star. Let him run! “Jerome,” I added weakly, wishing I could still help him somehow and sat down at the bench in front of the statue of Windslow B. Beoba.
“Old man,” I said as was my custom when I talked to the statue. “You're my granduncle on my daddy's side. You help him!”
“I will,” a kindly voice behind the statue said.
I was startled out of my wits! I turned around and there was an old bum, dressed in a suit out of the twenties or thirties that must have been much too hot in this weather today, what with there being no wind and all. He smiled as if knowing my first impression of him and not caring a bit.
“He's in no real danger.”
“Who isn't, Jerome?” I asked. “Do you know my brother?”
“Yes, in fact, Jerome sent me to warn you not to interfere anymore.”
“Interfere!” I shouted feeing like I should run after him again, but still not up to it physically. “They might kill him!”
“No, Sally, they won't kill him.”
“They will too! She's some sort of witch, I tell you!”
“No, not really,” he said, “if only that was all she was.”
“Do you mean, you believe me?”
“I know what she is. I've kept a close eye on that one since it was birthed.”
'What a strange way to say it, birthed?' I thought. Then, recovering, I asked him point blank, “What kind of a man are you?”
He smiled. Then with a sigh he said, “I am a very tired, old man, a very old man!”
'I could see that,' I thought.
“Old enough to know that if all they wanted was to kill him, they could have done it long ago. He's a strong willed, hothead that one.”
“Who-?” I started to ask, changed my mind and then asked anyway, “Who are you?” Then I recognized him. It was- It couldn't have been, but it was- I was sure it was Windslow B. Beoba! But how was that possible. “Are you a ghost?” I asked.
“To be honest, they've killed me so many times; even I am not sure on that one!”
“They killed you?” I said thinking he was some sort of nut. “Who did? You mean, the Townsend's?”
He said nothing, but by the look in his face I could see it would not be long until they did it again. Call it a woman's intuition, but that is just what I thought as I watched him walk slowly away toward the Town's End drugstore.
“If I were you, Young Lady!” a woman's voice from the old Packard that had pulled up to the curb in front of Windslow Beoba's statue said.
I was incredibly surprised. I had seen the girl many times before. But she was always in that old Packard when I saw her, always in the back seat and always alone. So, I shook my head in disbelief.
“You-” I said. “You- are-”
“Yes, yes, so I am, but if I were you-” she motioned for her black driver to drive away. “I would heed what Cloud said.”
“How would you know what he said?” I said in contempt.
“He always says the same things. The man has no imagination!” she yelled out the window, nearly losing her large white hat, catching it only with her white gloved hands.
“The prisoners are not permitted to enter the Town's End drugstore, until further notice,” the same voice blared over the Early Warning System speakers again, causing Sally to cover her ears in great distress once more.
Then she rose and slowly walked toward the Grantster's house, hungry to be held by her favorite person in the world, hungry to let him know she forgave him as always, especially, in light of the fact Jerome was okay.
“Can I come in?” she asked at his stoop.
“You had to get involved, didn't you?” he smiled, knowing somehow that all was forgiven.
“With you?” she smiled. “Yes.”
The Grantster looked up to the sky and was pleased for it had all returned to normal.
Chapter 4
Fatherhood
We sat on the porch, me and Zombie, and I was going over what happened in the past, trying to put things in their proper prospective.
“Zombie, let's stop at the park today. It is such a nice day. Maybe Jerome will happen by. I sure would like to speak with that young man.
Now, now, Zombie. There is no need to be angry. I know what he called Angel. I was there too, you know. You do so well as a black cat. I wonder, Zombie, if you were to die and had your choice, would you come back as a black cat, or a black panther? Certainly not a chauffeur.
What's that?
Well, if you weren't black what would there be to prompt me to recognize you.
Yes, yes, I know, Zombie. The rest of us are fortunate not to have to be green too. That was Windslow's gift, albeit unwittingly. Mama, loves Zombie as a cat though, Zombie. Fortunately my favorite color is black.
Yes, yes, I know that also, Zombie. It is most difficult for Daddy. Imagine what it must be like to take on the form of many creatures at once. It must be like trying to work hands—Yes, I know, Zombie. You do have paws. Some of the time—but as I was saying, it must be like trying to work all of your limbs at once in order to really get anywhere at all!
I know you actually do like eels, Zombie. But I am afraid I don't like Daddy's taste in colognes. Who would ever think to smell like spearmint, Zombie? No, not I either! That's for sure.
Sure you can, Zombie. I don't mind if you chase rabbits. Remember to go the direction of the strongest scent though. Rabbits have to be very good at what they do, you know.
Now, don't get your back up! I know you are many times more intelligent than a stupid rodent, Zombie. Just be a bit more patient and meticulous, Zombie. That's the key, be meticulous!
What do you mean; you don't know what meticulous means? Why, it means the same as aceboicbalobki as they used to say in the old country.
Yes, quite, Zombie. That is precisely what meticulous and aceboicbalobki mean. Excellent, but really now, Zombie, one meow is about the same as another to me to,” I was rambling on and on, to Zombie at the park when someone interrupted us.
“Are you feeling alright, Angel?” that dreadful Sally Beoba asked, snapping me into here tiny little world like one of her teeny tiny bras, as if everything was all about her.
“Yes, I am, dear,” I said and then added, “Say, Hi, to Sally, Zombie,” and I just loved how Zombie worried her half to death with that meow that sounded exactly like, hello. 'That was precious, Zombie! How do you think to do that?' I thought.
“You really love that cat of yours!” she said.
“Why? Of course I love Zombie!” I said more than a little put out with Sally. “I never go anywhere without him.”
“He seems to be really able to speak when you answer him. Why, it's exactly what I'd have said he just said. That is, of course, if I did in fact, say such things, which I do not.”
“I make you nervous, don't I, Sally?”
“Yes. You do. Why do you do that? Do you do it on purpose?”
“You would like to think me insane, wouldn't you, Sally?” I laughed in her face. “You don't have to understand me. Your brother does, and that is all that really matters.
By the way, Sally, you really don't listen well to advice, do you? Weren't you warned not to get mixed up in things that are of no consequence to you?”
“Like that tacky dress?” she asked spitefully. “What vintage is that, racy Victorian?”
“I know you and Jerome were very close,” I smiled. “He told me how possessive you are of him. Why is that, my dear, sweet, Sally? Why would it be, we are very jealous of our little brother?”
It was of course untrue but it worked, for Sally didn't even excuse herself, but got up and left, without so much as a word. Then as if in afterthought she asked, “What is with that weird cat anyway?”
“And then it was just Mama's little Zombie boy and Mama!
I know that, Zombie. You like Mama talking to you as if you were her little baby. But, of course, you are, and you know it.
What do you mean; you find that a little offensive? Why, you ingrate. Didn't I birth you? That makes you my baby then, for life! That's what the Beobas think. Their children are forever their very own children forever and always, even if they don't like them.
Oo! Would you look at that, Zombie! Look who's coming to see us. My old beau, Jerome! That little bitch must have told him I was here. Quick, let's get back in the Packard; I would like to see what he does. Hurry, Zombie. Don't hush me now. He's almost here!”
Then I yelled to him from inside the Packard, “Oh, young man! Young man?”
Jerome walked to my car and it showed all over him that he really wanted to meet me, if you know what I mean?
“Yes Ma'am,” he said, putting his hat on forward for reasons I am not cognizant of.
“Would you be pleased to go for a little drive with me today?”
It was clear he was extremely overjoyed but he pretended to be leery.
“My chauffeur is in a crabby mood, and I really would like the company of someone my own age, if you will,” I said, feigning my own embarrassment.
He must have been reminded of Angel's acting for he quickly declined, though it was clear his heart wasn't in it.
“Why? I feel like I've known you, just about forever. We would have had a real nice time,” I winked and told my black drier to leave. “If you should change your mind, I plan on getting out and sitting in front of Windslow, all by myself, and I will be here all afternoon, that is unless too many people decide they would like to do the same thing.”
He shook his head, excused himself, and walked away before I could even say, “Jerome! I love you!” But he had no more than left when that “cool” Grant Jackson came by. That cad is practically related to that little bitch of his, that Sally Beoba. I mean, after all his mother is in Windslow's line now, albeit by a previous marriage to Grant Beoba of Grand City.
No they're not actually related, Zombie. It's complicated. You see, Zombie, his mom was married to Grant Beoba, who died unexpectedly while attempting to catch green eels to sell to the fishermen over by Grand City. I think Daddy had something to do with that one. But, if he hadn't died, the Grantster, as they call him, might have had a Beoba for a daddy. Now do you understand, Zombie?
No! Zombie, I don't think that was funny. Jerome was entirely wrong. My mind is as sharp as a tack, and I am almost never confused about anything, much less, everything! I'm as sane as the Rock of Gibraltar, or is that 'as strong as the Rock of Gibraltar?' You know what I'm talking about, Zombie! Damn you, Zombie!
Mama is very angry. Yes, really!”
Anyway here comes Grant Jackson right up to the car and he says, “Hello. They call me the Grantster!” like I am supposed to be all impressed, which I am and don't know why, but I don't want to let on. So, he puts his finger to his tongue and dared to touch my white dress with his spit, and says, “Oh, I am sorry. Let's get you over to my place and out of those wet things. I- I don't know what got into me I am normally not that impolite.”
That's when I decided to select him as the father of my next baby, Zombie. I am sure he had no idea but his turn in hell was next on my list.
“The rest is history, Zombie, and yes, I know you are jealous. But this little, Townsend, is the granddaddy of a whole new cross; the Grantster line!” I laughed excitedly.
“But, oh! How I wish it had really been Jerome's baby. Can you imagine! Another Townsend and a Beoba! What a treasure that would have been!
The Grantster, Zombie, it sure was cute how his eyes bulged out like that at the beginning of the ritual, and stayed that way all the way to the finish. He was such a cutie. I wish we could have kept him alive through the whole ordeal. As it is though, it is sort of poetic justice, for that little bitch of his, that Sally Beoba, she has a drunken, undead, zombie partner for life.” I laugh yet, just thinking about it..
“No Zombie. He's not like you, he’s stuck with that, and more than a little undead for all of his eternity. Like he says in jest, He just might be the Patron Saint of the truly screwed. That is of course if he becomes a Catholic in time.
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