Welcome To Population

Author's Note: This is my first story, so any and all comments are very welcome. I would like to thank Miss Victoria (Victoria_2001_02769) for kindly being my editor on this piece. Her help had been tremendous and gratefully appreciated. Thank you Miss Victoria.

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The sign said:

Welcome to Population Est. 1889 Pop. 299

I passed it in dozy state, the kind between wakefulness and deep sleep. It did however registered in my mind because of the rather "unique" name of the town. It was still early in the morning, the fog thick amongst the rolling fields and partially obscuring the road ahead. While it was slow driving, I was still hoping to get some miles in before breakfast.

Yesterday had been long; almost the whole day spent just driving the lonely interstates. I had to get up at today at 5 for a much early start. It was not the usual time that I normally got up, but today was special. Well, not special in any sense of that word, more different I should have said.

It was fairly easy to explain why today was going to be different. Today was the day, at the age of 30, which I had to stand before a judge to be pronounced a free man. Freedom from the chains of marriage. Freedom from that life-sucking / whoring / harlot / bitch / *insert your own expletive here* woman, Marlene.

Well, that was not very fair to the one whom I had considered the most beautiful girl in the whole world. She had drop-dead looks, gorgeous shoulder-length blonde hair, and legs that went on forever. Her breasts were neither too big nor too small. Just the right size for my hands. And her ass... Wow wee! A catfight seemed to be going on in there when she walked wearing a dress. I was in love, as much as a man had ever loved a woman since the dawn of time. We were meant to be together.

I was a happy man during that time. I had owned and operated my own small hardware store, the kind that was trying to survive against Home Depot. I was surviving, barely. I was happy that the normal 9 to 5 routine did not apply. On some days, I only got in about noon, because I had a late night. Marlene was the reason I did not get enough sleep. She was veracious. A highly sexually charged woman. Not infrequently, she wore me out.

Yup. I was very happy.

Nothing good lasts forever. Up till today, I never knew what really happened between us, or even when it actually started. I was not out of town with any regularity. I thought I had provided for her sufficiently, in terms of a living and bedroom dues. The times that I was out of town was to attend conferences, trade shows in reality, and those were only for a few times a year. Most of those I went to were on personal VIP passes from suppliers. VIP passes allowed for motel discount rates, free lunches and lots of coffee and doughnuts.

So, one day out of the blue, Marlene came to me with a lawyer's letter saying that she was leaving me for another man. I remembered my jaw dropping and stayed that way for the rest of the day. I pleaded, cried and even threatened to kill myself just so she would rescind and stay. For any full-blooded male who saw me that day, they would have disgustedly said, "Get off your ass and knees, and act like man!"

I did not do that of course. I was like a lovesick puppy, which was just about to be put down. Put-down was such a lovely term. It conveyed several meanings. Death or the lost of pride, or both. Truth to be told, I had lost all pride that day, as a man down on the knees, begging her to take me back. She had already made up her mind and was unswayable. By the end of that day, most of her stuff was already gone.

Eight years of marriage, and the four priors of that through dating, might not seem to be much to many people. But to me, it was the most glorious time of my life. We had no children, not from the lack of trying though. She was on the pill I believed, although I never took the trouble to find out. I even went to the doctor to see if the problem was from my side. The result was a resoundingly appreciative "no." My swimmers were still pretty strong and capable.

The more I thought about it afterwards, the more I was convinced that a child would have saved the marriage. I did not want to believe that Marlene would not like to be tied down with a child and a husband despite the signs. She always had a free spirit. I conjectured that I was a poor comparison and companion to that. However, there was no way to confirm since she had vehemently told me not to contact to her ever again. On the threat of a Court-issued restraining order too. Many nights thereafter were spent tossing and turning, trying to speculate as to the causes. I even mentally noted down the points of my life that I needed to change in order to get her back. I clung on to the belief that our love had not faded.

The earthmoving activities, which had started near my store for a brand-new Home Depot, only added to my misery. So, when the invitation for another trade show came up, I grabbed the chance to get away for a while. It was the normal, typical tradeshow, with lots of mini-skirted and silicone-enhanced young girls in front of rich manufacturers' booths. All of them had fake, honey-dripped smiles, so that products sold better and make more money. Tradeshows were definitely not the place to pick up women, unless one happened to like those mini-skirted promotion girls. I was not one of those though. I only went hoping some new products might catch my fancy, and the subsequent distributorship, something to ward off the impending financial disaster of a new Home Depot opening up next door. (Yeah Right! Says those who had been to those tradeshows before...)

The only thing I got was a new portable battery-operated weed-whacker, entirely made of engineering plastics so it was extremely lightweight. It durability was suspect (Made in China), but it was cheap, something that would entice those weekend warriors. Weekend-warriors were those pot-bellied, balding with 2 ¾ family-sized suburbanites in their whitewashed houses with picket fences on tree-line roads. On weekends the battle was on with their lawns, right before heading out for an afternoon session of golf.

I managed to wheedle a phone number from a cute blonde with perky breasts selling riding lawnmowers. I think she gave it to me because I looked like a washed-up lovesick puppy. It did not matter that I was really interested in their new super-fast, sleek and economical model, the lawnmower that was. It was just pure luck that the number turned out to be a pizza place.

Anyways, I was on my way home, when my cell phone rang. It was a gift from Marlene. And it had that gawd-awful ringing tone which sounded like the theme from Mission Impossible. I had not learned how to change the tone yet. So I ground my teeth and answered. It was Marlene. Unfortunately she called just to remind me that the Court appearance was in the afternoon on the day I got back. Before I could utter a proper reply, she hung up. That damn bitch just called to remind me that I had a destiny with an inevitable ending, and she did not even have the courtesy to ask how I was. Not that I would not have said anything about it, if I had gotten the chance. I would have begged her again to take me back.

This explained pretty much why at seven o'clock in the morning, I had already driven an hour and half. I could have gotten on the freeway, but I figured that that side roads would have less traffic. It was certainly much more enjoyable, basically to help me forget a little. Besides, these little towns along the way have a lot of those old mom-and-pop stores. The kind where the coffee was black and strong, and the burgers dripping with actual grease. Real food. Not like those soybean bullshit hamburgers of Mickey D's.

And I was thinking about food and some strong coffee at that point in time, the fog-shrouded scenery being boring after a while.

SCREECH!!!

I could have said that I did not see that puppy run across the road. The puppy being so small compared to the huge Ford 350 XLT. I would be lying of course. No one would believe me because of that red Stop sign at the junction.

I slammed the brakes so hard that the whiplash would have given cause for problems for years to come. In addition, I thought the seat belt broke my collarbone, when I felt pain on my shoulder. Then I saw a flash of white run pass in front of my truck, but did not appear on the other side. A Heavenly Angel that would carry me to heaven, perhaps? But the few moments of grogginess were soon replaced with wakeful clarity.

I got out of my truck and went to the front. The flash of white I saw was no Heavenly Angel. Although she was an Angel, the human kind. A brunette with flashes of red, dressed in a white t-shirt and white sweat pants was kneeling down. No wings on her back though.

"You killed my Joy!"

"You murderer. You murdered my little Joy!"

And then she started crying. Just bawling her eyes out, cradling that puppy, a terrier, close to her bosom like a child. And she did have a nice, shapely bosom. Of course that was not what was foremost on my mind at that time. I certainly did not know what to do, except stand there looking like an idiot. To say that I was shocked would have been inaccurate. More like extremely confused with the brain that seemed to have taken a holiday a thousand miles away.

After a while I knelt down, and said I was sorry. I guessed she did not hear me, and so I said it again, and again. I did not figure that words would bring back a dead puppy, much like it did not bring back Marlene. Useless and formulaic words really. I really did not know what else to do. I could get in my truck and get out of here. But I would have to drag her away from the front first.

At the moment I must admit that the prospect of laying my hands on her was beginning to register. I was close enough to her to smell her. She did not have any perfume on. I was also close enough to smell the dog as well. Down on my knees with her, I had a good look at her. The woman I mean, not the dog. I could care less about a dead dog now.

She was beautiful, in the sense of my own perception of beauty. She had a fairly high-ridged nose, a tall forehead, and quite full lips, the bottom of which she was biting. She did not have her make-up on, and I could see some freckles on her cheeks. Her neck was long, and that was when I noticed her earlobes. They were big, almost like a flap of fatty skin hanging down. I did not see her eyes initially because they were closed with tears streaming out.

I tried to take the puppy from her (successful), and drag her off the road (unsuccessful).

"Eh! What do you think you doing with 'ere little Sheryl, Mister?"

The new voice startled me to be sure. I turned to face a fat man in a uniform. A County sheriff's uniform, complete with gun belt and gun. I could not miss it cause his right hand was resting on the gun suggestively. The Stetson was very clean and brushed, and a name tag that said, McGruff.

I blinked.

"Uncle Ben, he killed Joy!"

"What!" He did not have red hair, but at that point the clichés about redheaded people seemed to also apply to this brown-haired officer of the law.

All I said was, "Oh Shit!"

"Uncle Ben, he killed Joy."

Gods! I wished she would find new words to say. I did not believe that her vocabulary could be so limited.

"Now look here, officer, I can assure that this was an accident. I certainly did not mean to run over the dog..."

"Uncle Ben, he killed Joy. He killed Joy. Joy is dead." Now that was beginning to get on my nerves. The first time she said it I was sympathetic. The second time, I was guilt-ridden. Now, I was not too sure about feeling either.

"Well, lookee 'ere Mister. We'll sort this out down at the station. You'd better come along with me."

"Now wait a minute Sir. It was an accident I tell you. I did not see the puppy cross the street. If I did, don't you know that I'd have avoided hitting it? Look, there is someplace I've to be at in the afternoon. And it will take me all morning to get there. I'm already late as it is. Is there someway that we can settle this right here and now?"

"You murderer! You killed Joy! You heartless Murderer!"

"Let me tell ya, Mister. We're gonna settle this matter down at the station. There is no other place important enough for you to be at than down at my station right now. I trust we understand each other? Besides you can tell me about this place you've to be, down at the station." His hand had gone from suggestiveness to gripping the butt tightly.

At 6' 3" and 200 pounds, I was definitely taller although not heavier than Officer McGruff. But I would not be fast enough.

"Sheriff, I've to be in court at 2 this afternoon. It'd be a disaster for me if I miss it."

"A bleeding-heart lawyer then, huh? I say, kill most of the lawyers anyway."

"No, I'm not a lawyer."

"A criminal then, huh? I say, hang all you criminals anyway."

"I'm not a criminal either. It's a divorce court." I wanted to add "you fucking idiot," but that would be highly inappropriate, detrimental even to my cause.

"Yes, you're. You're a criminal. You killed Joy!" Geez, the woman actually knows another sentence, and her vocabulary had actually increased. Who could have thought possible?

I was about to retort when the puppy stirred in my arms. All the while, neither one of us had actually checked if it was really dead. I just assumed it was. The lack of blood should have alerted me. So, sue me if I was a little daft in the morning. I was already numb with pain and misery.

"WAIT! WAIT A MINUTE! The dog is not dead. Look! At it's stomach. I think its breath..." I never finished because the girl grabbed it off me.

She pursed her lips and ran off. I noticed her shapely legs, and of course, a very nice bottom, although it was hardly noticeable in her sweat pants. Not overly large or flabby. In fact, I could see tightness. Her hips were wide, proper for childbearing, but not overly wide. A perfect woman.

"Well, what now, Sheriff? Can I go?" I broke the silence first, in part to break my reverie in watching that flash of white disappear around a corner.

"Well, Mister, we would still have to go down to the station. Follow me please, in the truck. And don't even try to think about running. A State-wide APB can be issued before you get out of town. Then you'll really be running from the Law. I trust we understand each other?"

What choice did I have at that moment? None, as far as I could see. For killing a puppy? Oh! The Law was definitely on my side now. Geez, I wonder what other good news were awaiting?

"Okay, Sheriff. You win. I'll follow your cruiser, and I'll not try to run. You've my word on it."

"Of course. I always win."

The town was small. I would not have noticed the one-main-street town under normal circumstances. Two and three stories high were as high as the buildings go. Moreover they were definitely older than my grandfather. It had been a while since any of the shops and the signs had a new coat of paint. Although, the kiln-fired red bricks added to the charm. At the end of the street was a square with a much-bombed-by-pigeons statue. It had a stonework pedestal, topped with a patina-colored bust of a man. The police station was the last building at the end of the street. Charming little place, really.

And it was clean. No piles of refuse or leaves were on the ground. The air smelled clean as well. There were flowerpots everywhere. It was still early in the morning, but the streets were alive with mostly middle-aged and old folks off to their daily chores. There were a lot more trucks than cars, this being what I perceived as a farming community. A great, quiet, clean and wholesome place to live and bring up children.

The Sheriff's office was typical of all the other buildings, complete with the faded badge, sign, words on the windows, and chipped-paint doors. I wondered what it would smell like on the inside, but to my surprise, Sheriff McGruff instead led me a few doors down to a diner. The phrase, "A condemned man's last meal," quickly flashed through my brains.

"Good Morning, love."

"Good Morning, honey. So this is the one who killed Joy?"

Sheriff McGruff nodded; too busy buttering a slice of toast to say anything. Whereas I was just too embarrassed, to find that news did indeed travel fast in small town. Moreover, I wish that they would stop calling the puppy Joy. It just sounded as I had actually killed an emotional state/concept.

"Some breakfast, err... Mister..." She pulled me out of my self-recriminations.

"Irving, maam. Jimmy Irving. And yes, I'd love to have some breakfast. A last meal for a condemned man, huh?" I smiled, or at least I tried to smile.

"Oh, now, now, Mr. Irving. My husband here, Ben, would not be so cruel. And I'd not want you to think that small-town hospitality doesn't exist. Now what would you like for breakfast?" Her easy tone made me feel better for sure.

The pancakes were absolutely the best that I have ever tasted. And the homemade syrup was perfect. I even managed get in some scrambled eggs and bacon. But I yearned for those pancakes. At least I got fed, which was a whole lot better than being taken to the cleaners by Marlene. It looked like I would not be able to make it in time. I got permission to call Marlene to tell her that. I was expecting a scathing lecture about punctuality and all that, but all I got was a simple, unemotional goodbye from her.

The small diner was half full, with most people just starting to come in after a few hours of morning chores. The time zone here must be different from what I was used to. Then a gentleman came in and tapped me on my shoulder.

"So you're the "Murderer" who almost killed Joy, huh?" This voice was softer than the McGruff's, but there was a note of power in it.

"This here is Jimmy Irving, Chad. A rather nice fellow," piped Mrs. McGruff in the corner.

"Guilty as charged, your Honor." Might as well play along, since I had nothing to do.

"Oh really? What do you say about the punishment fitting the crime, Ben?"

"Well, Judge McGruff, I say that he should be hung, just like Old Man Kelp. But Doris here thinks he's a rather nice man, and we should be nice to nice men. Bah! Hang 'em all I say."

I should have known. I always had the tendency to put my foot in my mouth. Now, I was really in the deep end. Sheriff McGruff, and Judge McGruff. The Executioner was probably named McGruff as well. I wondered if this town should be renamed McGruff.

The Judge chuckled and said, "Well, hanging is so 18th century, Ben. I believe we can find something more modern for these here young ones. Something like electrocution, which of course, isn't a good idea, when Margie calls you to complain about her lights being out. I know for certain you wouldn't want that. We could go with lethal injection. But some of the farmers around here might complain if some of the poison ever got out of him. Well, we could always go back to boiling him in hot oil. Well, Doris, do you think you have enough oil to spare for the public execution?"

Ha, Ha, Ha. Go ahead and laugh at my expense. Boiling oil indeed. Although... I detected no hint of sarcasm in the Judge's voice. It was a rather dry speech without the sarcastic tone. By then anyone could see that I was sweating and starting to see hangmen everywhere.

"Well, young Irving. I guess I'll have to sentence you to a month of community service. Not for Joy, but for running that stop sign. Mrs. Althing saw you this morning. Ben, see to it that he serves the sentence. We can make it official this afternoon. I've to go and see how Mrs. Kelp is doing."

I felt my jaw drop, again. A month! For running a stop sign??!! Whatever happened to a simple fine? A slap on the wrist? It was not like I ran over Daisy Mae's cow, or even Daisy Mae herself. This was unbelievable. And then a chilling thought passed through. I was now in the Twilight Zone. This town did not exist. The people were my worst nightmares brought to life. I just had to close my eyes, maybe add a pinch or a punch, and I would be back home in my bed just awakening from a nightmare, with Marlene still asleep beside me...