It took three hours of circuitous driving through the North Carolina woods before my husband, Don, would admit that we were lost. He was trying to take a short cut described to him by his moron brother Craig. At that moment I hated Craig. I hated being lost even more. Don's solution to everything was to double back, turn-around, and ask no directions which invariably led us in circles and three feet from nowhere.
Eventually I told Don to let me take over the wheel. My plan was to find somebody, anybody to help get us out of the mountains by nightfall. After about ten miles Don fell asleep. His baldhead bobbled loosely against the window in our Ford Explorer. He had driven pretty much the entire trip so I figured he deserved the rest.
It only took forty minutes before we found an old full-service gas station and a cute little old man. He filled our tank without prompting.
"How do I get back on the interstate?" I asked.
He was stunned for a second, looking down at the deep cleavage of my v-neck sweater at my 38DDs like he'd lost a marble in there. I'm a big girl with big tits and a bubble ass and I have a need to dress comfortably on long trip. He finally answered, "You're a long way off ma'am. If you go down Quarry Road and make a left onto Stubblefield you'll see a sign pointing towards county road 78…"
His directions went on and on, his yellow eyes tracing the roundness of the tops of my exposed breasts. I gave him a special thrill by taking the change from the gas and putting it inside my bra in such a way as to show him a nipple.
I didn't remember most of what he said but I did remember the first few turns. Nearing darkness the smooth pavement turned to gravel. Just as I slowed to perform a three-point turn, much like my drooling husband, I noticed a giant of a man in the middle of the road seated in an aluminum folding chair. He wore muddy denim overalls without a T-shirt and looked to be about 35, maybe 40 at most. His long red hair and beard shone brightly in the headlights. The sight startled me.
"Don, honey, wake up. There's someone in the road."
"What?" asked Don groggily.
"Look, there's a man in the middle of the road. What should we do?"
"Do we know where we are?" he asked. I was afraid to tell him that my effort hadn't been any better than his.
"Not exactly, but…"
"Well why don't you ask the gentleman there. This isn't Chicago. People are more friendly in the South."
"Why don't you ask? You're the man," I said. Don looked at me with slow reflexes, he couldn't think of a better reason to make me do it.
"Oh all right, but if he plays a banjo and asks me for a date you have to promise not to leave me here."
"Deal," I said.
As Don approached, the man stood. He was more enormous in height and girth than I had guessed. Don's tall, six-foot, but the man in the road couldn't have been less than seven feet tall and 350 pounds. I suddenly felt sorry for making Don go. The two of them talked for a moment. The giant shaking his head mostly. Don came back to the Explorer's driver side window.
"Honey, he says that this is a toll road. I told him that we were lost and he said he didn't care, that this was his road and well…we need to pay up for traveling on it," said Don.
I didn't believe him at first but Don doesn't kid. The man in the road began to approach the truck. A strange sense of fear overwhelmed me. He came right up behind Don and peered through the open window at me. He had a grimace that turned into a sudden smile.
"Howdy, you sure are pretty," he said. "I once had a dog with fur all yellow and shiny like your hair." His breath smelled of corn liquor. He had at least three extra teeth. I was too scared to be sick.
"Hi, I'm Jamie," I said. I tried to diffuse the situation by making it personal.
"My name is Stopper and I am pleased to make your acquaintance," he said politely. His voice was deep, otherworldly, like a slow motion roar.
My husband watched Stopper. He knew that this behemoth could take whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. "How much do you need for your…toll?" he asked with trepidation.
Stopper backed away to study the Explorer. I thought for a moment he might be studying the weight and the effect it would have on his gravel road. "Stopper would like a dance with the pretty lady," he said.
I looked at Don in disbelief. He was whiter than a ghost and on the verge of falling down.
I thought quickly, "Well, Stopper, we don't have any music and I don't think it would be all that safe to dance in the road."
"No problem, little lady, my cabin's just up the road a piece and I've got all the latest: George Jones, Patsy Cline, Hank Williams...we'll have a sure good time." Without warning he opened the rear door behind me and jumped in, smashing his oversized head against headliner. The car groaned under the new weight to the left. My husband stood next to my window. He looked defenseless and defeated, his truck hijacked with not a damn thing for him to do about it. I motioned with big eyes for him to get in.
Stoppers' cabin really wasn't a cabin so much as a limestone cave with electricity. If I hadn't been terrified, I would have remarked on his innovative use of natural materials and "found" objects. However, all I could think of at that moment was rape and murder with no on to hear my screams.
Stopper offered us a sip from his brown glass jug with force. I politely declined but Don took the jug in hand and with Don holding the base tilted it back. Don drank down the concoction with a meaty gulp and appeared immediately intoxicated.
"What was that?" Don asked.
"Daddy's recipe," Stopper said.
"Well you should thank your daddy, that's some good shit," Don was trying to be down home for the benefit of Stopper. Stopper didn't notice.
