It was late fall a while back and we had spent all day cutting fire fodder deep down in the Bizzell Woods, over by Aunt Mamies timeless mill pond. Matter of fact we were over in the area across from the mill race there in the big two hundred year old red and white oak stand. A few of them had died and dried for some reason, but the wood was still good. Our day commenced at sunrise and ran almost nonstop until sundown. Two uncles, my granddaddy, my daddy, three cousins and myself had been sawing, splitting, and stacking wood all day long. I suppose we cut, split, hauled out, stacked, and restacked damn near twelve cords divided up between us all. We were tired by sundown, but I was still a young cock-a-doo back in those days.
When I made it inside the house, almost immediately I received a phone call. I picked it up off the hook on the wall, putting it to my ear, saying "hello" into the mouthpiece.
"Yeah man, I have a proposition I want to make to you."
Instantly I recognized the voice. It was Robin Randal. I already knew before he said anything, something devious was a stir.
"How goes it?," I asked directly.
"Let's motor out to the college over in South Bend tonight," he said.
"You are not planning on going to any college," I sneered, "so what's on?"
"Look, they're having a dance out that way tonight. Some of the county's best looking honeys will be out there tonight of all nights, and us good boys can't miss this. You hear me?"
"Oh yeah?," I asked, "What makes tonight special enough that the fluff butts will all come out of their hen houses?"
"Well, there is going to be a wet tee shirt contest to go with it, sponsored by none other than good ole Bud Weiser himself! Top prize is a thousand dollars cash and three months of free beer over at the SmokeHouse on Kitten Street, over by Stiff Limb and Lame Dame, you know, man!"
"Yeah? Well let me eat. I just came in from cutting wood all day," I told him. "I got grilled hamburgers to eat and freshly harvested sweet potatoes. I haven't had anything all day long, man. I'm 'bout hungry as a springtime bar in rut, to speak the truth."
"You go ahead and eat. I'm dropping by in a couple of hours," Robin said. " Be done with your eating, washed up and ready for hump hoppin' action when I get there."
"Coming just you, or with anybody else?," I asked him.
"Yeah, Gator Bait and Hump Nasty are coming along with us," he said to me.
"Oh hell, we'll both get locked up tonight I suppose," I laughed.
"Maybe, " he laughed back, " but if nothing else we'll all get to drink good Coors and Bud draft beer until we giggle as we watch that blessed flesh jiggle, I can tell ya that much!"
"I'm going to eat here and wash, so come on out and I'll be ready," I told him.
He gave me his over and out, then hung up quickly as he called. His rather blunt nature was to behave in such a manner.
As I dug into the hamburgers and sweet potatoes I suddenly felt like going to sleep. By the time I finished my quart sized glass of iced tea, I caught a second wind. Looking back, I suppose it was due to the blessing of youth. Soon Robin's Camaro rumbled in the yard by the front door. I buckled my Levis up snugly against my navel, put on my best western shirt, slicked back my hair, zipped up my leather boots, then strutted straight out the front door.
"Where ya goin' boy?," asked Father.
"To the college over in South Bend," I replied to him.
"You, at the college? Yeah, and I smell trouble, but alright. You coming in by midnight?," he asked.
"Something like that," I replied.
"Well, all I got to say is for you to keep the hard horn underneath the hood, and don't do anything I wouldn't do. I have a strange sickening feeling you'll wind up getting hung in a bun and wont make it in until tomorrow night, boy, but whatever, just be damn careful."
"We'll do," I replied as I strode across the threshold.
Out a ways from the front door the midnight black Camaro rumbled like an energetic lioness soon to prowl. As I neared, I spied three mirky figures through the condensate on the glass sitting in the car that evening. All of them were laughing and obviously ripe and ready for what they anticipated as being some sort of future red hot action. At the moment I personally had absolutely no anticipation, one way or the other. I was there for the ride only, more or less at the time. I casually stride over to the passenger door of the car.
As the door opened and I slid into the rear seat. At best I figured in an flash of thought where this experience would be a rather boring strut show for some local, rather busty women seeking to turn a quick buck and make a memorial name, some shoulder to shoulder dancing to some of the latest Skynyrd jam specials, winding down with maybe a rodeo entry show of some sort, as so many others of this nature always were, and such would be about it. I was rather calm about the matter, smiling some and speaking a flowery word hither and thither. My comrades obviously felt very differently, however.
"You wait until tonight, boy, it's gonna be a good one. We all know who one of these contestants will be," Gator Bait turned around in the front passenger seat and said. "None other than Donna Sweetbreath with the Pillsbury Dough breasts."
"My gosh, hey hey!," roared Hump Nasty beside me from underneath his badly worn ancient black Fedora, " de amiable angel with de dose grande enchiladas, eh now Snookum boba?"
"Maybe we'll have a nice show," I replied with a laugh.
"Nice show? I want to lay the ole ramrod in between the bouncing honey buns myself," huff gruffed Hump Nasty.
"Yeah," laughed Robin as he drove along, "I certainly intend on more than sitting around gawking, that's for sure!"
"I'm with yall two," smiled and laughed Gator Bait. "I need a new shine on the dipstick, to speak the truth. I think positive. Tonight may be the night, oh yeah?"
I laughed at the rude notations, but made no joining comment. Maybe my hard day was reaching out at me from inside my meal time ice tea caffeine screen. Yeah, I could feel the old holstein horn beginning to press more solidly on his stable door, but somehow I didn't have my energy tank at its full mark yet, and my concern line hadn't intersected with it as a result.
Hump Nasty sat glaring at me, smiling.
"You'll be alright once we make it there," he said to me. "Wait until Delilah Lemonlicker meets up with ya. She's gonna be there! You'll get alright then. There never was one like her before, and one like her will never be afterward. You'll be hooting and howling before it's all over with. Hell, you might even grow feathers and wings, then fly to a land far away somewhere before this night is over with. I can see it all clearly right now!"
Once we made out on the open road, Robin stomped the gas pedal. The forward force in the souped-up 302 shoved us backward deep into the seat cushions. The speed needle instantly moves from fifty five to a ninety, then a hundred, then pauses on the right hand wall of the speedometer. We figured we were moving at around one hundred thirty miles per hour. In a matter of minutes it seemed like we had zipped twenty miles out and the Camaro was suddenly slowing down, then soon turning into the college parking lot. This feat of travel was almost beyond my comprehension at the time, but I said not a word. Looking back now, it's by the grace of God a wind gust didn't reach underneath the car at that speed and simply flipped us over, and out. That alone is proof of God Almighty's power, if readers are in need of it.
South Bend University is a virtual masterpiece of classical Greek architecture. I always felt like a special aura of charm exuded outward from the building itself, into the surrounding landscape and minds of all who enter the buildings and the grounds. Down a ways from the main building the student center was glowing with an array of multicolored light. In the distance we could hear the rhythmic thump of music, sounding slightly familiar to us.
"Boys, that's where this party is going to be tonight. You see that? There is a bar in there for the students and everything," said Robin with a smile as he pointed.
Gator Bait turned around in his seat.
