Charles Pendelton
      © 2008 Marty Langdon
Chapter 39

                    The horseless carriage

John looked at me like a disciple of academic knowledge, as a car slows
down and begins pulling into the driveway. It seems he too, had been
counting cards in the great void. Armand was now home, and turns off
the engine to the light brown, 1970 Pontiac Catalina Convertible.

Armand now opening the front door, lets Spade out to go wandering in old
man Barton's yard with hopes that he'll do his business and return. Armand
then proceeds to stumble into the house, as we in turn, follow the retriever
across the street. John then says, “when he stops sniffing, that's usually when
he makes.” All at once the dog stops sniffing and walks around in a circle.
From there, he gets into this awkward squat and voila, he begins shitting.
“Check it out, I say to john, he looks like he's sitting on a mini toilet bowl!”

“It does,” he screams out wildly, and together
we fall into a fit of uncontained laughter!!!

The dog quickly looked over at us with a gesture of disapproval,
before prancing further into Mr. Barton's yard and disappearing entirely.

Behind a group of shadowy trees, the dog simply vanished!

There was a loud sound, very similar to a golf club being swung through a pile of leaves
in a rapid motion. “I think he fell in a hole John! Oh my God!” “Don't fuck around.” said
John, displaying signs of panic. “I'm serious, I think he went into a hole!” “Oh shit,” he
said, while running toward a black area. “Be careful,” I said, but to my words he'd pay
no heed. Sometimes, things that return from the darkness are no longer things we know.

“Spade,” John bellows, and the dog trotted happily out of the old Southerner's yard,
content in his own right to be solely one of Gods individual creations. The way that dog
looked at me in that very moment made my whole face crinkle! “You strange looking
magnanimous beast,” I said to my four-legged friend, the way I would have said it
that prairie dog, had I been with Lewis and Clark on their expedition of 1804. 

From less than an ells length, he looked like he had taken form
from a charcoal briquette! Under the streetlight however, he bore
a faint
glimmer of grey, for the lab was now in his golden years.

As our eyes locked, Spade began to display his emotions
in such
a gregarious manner, I feared he might stand
on his own two hind
legs and give a speech!

I then began petting him, and he truly seemed to enjoy it.

He then winked at me as if to say, I gave him a good scare back there, didn't I?
I winked back at the old boy, in recognition of the fact that we understood
other completely, for we were now both on the same wavelength!

“Ever get in that?” I asked John, pertaining to the old relic Mr. Barton
had situated in the far corner of his yard. “No,” he replied, “and don't
even think about it. That was Barton's father's.” An authentic original,
never restored and never repaired top of the line horseless carriage.

                                A Duryea, circa 1894.

Needless to say, in its present condition was only worth about 27¢
to scrap. “I think I have to get in it.” “Listen to me, asshole, if he
hears you, he'll call the cops, and if the cops come, my old man's
gonna kick the shit outta me. . . Then, I'm gonna have to kill you.

                                                                               Pg 265

“Trust me, when have I ever done anything that has gotten us in trouble with
the law?” “All right, but just be careful.” “You're not coming?” “Pain in my
fucking ass,” he muttered, as we crept slowly across old man Barton's lawn.

The dog, wanting absolutely nothing to do with
this madness, abandoned us immediately.

The way he moved hastily toward the house, rather than following
at our heels should have been an indicator for us to stop dead in our
tracks and follow him, who now had more sense than either of us!

“He should take better care of his stuff,” I replied, upon looking at all
the old buckets and barrels decorating the unsightly yard. Propped up
against the deteriorating carriage were rows of air supply plenums just
rusting away. Most were positioned around the yard like tin soldiers,
just waiting for a lightning strike. “He was a sheet metal fabricator,
back in the day, now he’s just a hoarder.” John then grabs hold of my
arm and says, “This is a fucking disaster waiting to happen! Just look
at how unstable it is!” John must have seen it as it actually was, while
I saw it as almost rideable. For whatever reason it was, I just kept
staring at it. “Hop in, if you're gonna do it, but do it carefully!”

I then braced myself, swung in and swiftly sat down, but as I did this, the two
passenger side wheels shattered under my weight and the carriage immediately
flipped over. I landed on my head to the sound of what appeared to be metal
falling from the sky! To me, the sound it made was louder than a jet taking off.

John bolted from the yard taking no prisoners and wound up running faster than
his own two feet could carry him! One by one, the lights went on in every house
on the block, and it was almost as if I awoke the dead! My heart was now racing
with adrenaline, and I was so pumped up I almost couldn’t remove myself from
the contraption! Wriggling my arms and shoulders, I managed to break free! 

I could hear old man Barton screaming and running toward me half
naked. I just couldn’t understand him for he sounded like a scratchy
throat mongoloid. I jumped to my feet with eyes well adjusted to the
darkness and made it out of there in seconds flat! I don't even think
he saw me. Surprisingly, I felt strangely elated by the whole thing!

Running into John's backyard, I quickly closed the door behind me.

“Come here,” he shouted in a loud whisper! I scurried up the wooden
stairs and we waited near the back door. John's shirt was torn up and
his chest, bleeding. “I should punch the living shit out of you right
now,” he said with a blood red face. “What the hell happened to you,”
I asked, perplexed? “When the sheet metal started falling, I booked!
I must have got caught on a root or something at the edge of the yard,
and I flew into the street on my stomach; burns like a bitch. . .

Thanks a lot, dick!”

Within minutes, we were peering through the living room blinds, listening to
John's mom, now hurling expletives from her bedroom! Armand had gone
outside, and was talking to a group of angry neighbors who had come together
to survey the disaster. They were walking around in a mindless fashion while
some were holding their heads, as if they were walking through the smoke and
rubble of a downed passenger aircraft. As John’s mom begins walking down
the stairs, we quickly hasten into the kitchen! As Barbara enters the kitchen,
looking noticeably distressed, she asks a most unnerving question, “what's
going on out there?” She immediately observes John's shirt, and becomes
bewildered. What in God's name happened to you?” “It's a long story.”

Listen to me and listen good,” she said calmly. I was just awoken out of a
very sound sleep. It sounded like a fuck-ing bomb went off, so just tell me the
truth; what the hell is going on?” No sooner does she get the words off her
tongue does Armand enter in through the front door. They're gonna lynch
somebody tonight, he says in a worried tone as he wanders into the living
room, dazed and completely disoriented. “Mark Reissens got a pitchfork!”

                                                                               Pg 266

I was now the town pariah, hiding out like a fugitive. According to
Armand's statement, somebody said they saw a figure run into the
backyard. As he rifled through the closet by the front door, he could
find nothing to go into the backyard with. “Can you believe this?”
shouted Armand in his frustration! I can believe anything tonight,
shouted Barbara, while waving her hands erratically, and pointing 
in our direction. Now Armand must have thought Barbara was
giving him a signal that the intruder, or intruders were out back!

Shut the light off, they can see you in there, Armand shouted in a
voice that could barely be heard in the kitchen. I'm sure, in his mind
he must have been reeling, and nothing at the moment could have
been any worse than knowing that a group of hoodlums had
assembled and were now brooding in the backyard.

As Armand shuffled about in a state of duress, the whiskey it
appeared had gotten to him! Hurriedly, he scrambles in panic,
furiously to find something to protect himself and his family
with. Grabbing the first thing he could find, he runs hastily in!

Between the expression on his face, and the weapon, he was going to use
to defend himself against a possibly armed killer was perhaps the funniest
thing I ever saw in my life. I could now, in no way compose myself! Barbara
then looked over at Armand the same way Alice would have looked at Ralph
when she said to him, what are you gonna do with that, dent his pride?

“Maybe you should have walked in with a Polish joke!”

She then brought her fingers
to her lips, and began laughing.

That was all it took! I immediately started to cough and laugh at the same
time and could not stop! It was an automatic reflex action, that took over
my entire being! “What the hell is wrong with you, Barbara? muttered
Armand nervously! Are you crazy?” He then shuts off the kitchen light,
and begins to look outside through the kitchen window. As he was about
to venture into the darkness, Barbara turns the light back on. She then
points in the same fashion she did before, only now the view of the kitchen
was no longer obstructed by the offset angle of the living room.

“You could have at least taken the mace from the wall,
instead of running in here like Pee-wee Herman!!!”

He just stood there with a dumb look on his face, ready to explode!

“And, you wanna know the best part about this whole thing?”
said Barbara, as she slowly became enraged, “I still don't
even have a clue, to what the fuck is going on around here!”

All of a sudden, it must have lit up in Armand's mind that
his very own son, and friend, had just vandalized the house
next door, and destroyed a piece of history in the process!!!

With that Armand drops the orange hairbrush, and gives John a slap across the side
of his head. “What the fuck,” John protested? “You want another one, start talking,”
Shouted Armand in an aggressive state! “Charlie did it.” “Give me a break,” said
Barbara, “you look like you've been fighting off wild boars!” “Tell them man,
before I start breakin' things!” I then thought about what I was going to say, and
wound up saying in an animated tone, “Remember the alma mater, Stitches get
snitches. . . I mean, s-stitches get. . .” John shock his head in disbelief, while
Barbara tried earnestly not to laugh. As for Armand, he just stood there like
a cartoon character frozen in time, looking like he was slowly becoming erased.

I guess by this time they knew we were on drugs, even though we never really
tried to hide it. I was riding the crest of a Sunami straight into a towering high-rise,
and now it was the end of the line for this hippie. This wannabe clown who took
his last toke, only to find himself suddenly unfucked. Just as I was ready to
unravel the whole mess, four police cars pull up outside with those red and
blue lights turning. For the time being I was saved, even though I was going to
throw him under the bus, like he tossed me under the train in blatant disregard.

“You know what,” said Armand, “I don't wanna know who did it.” “You're
both fucked up, and tomorrow, we're all gonna have a nice long talk about
this. So keep quiet, stay put and don't even think of going near that window!”

“Happy now,” said Barbara to me and John. “Are you happy? You two fucks!”
As she ascended the stairs leading back up to her room, her final words were,
and I quote, “Why don't you two go out in the middle of the street and pretend
you have guns? I'll get my camera. . .”  (((SLAM))

                                         The Equals - Police on my back

                                                                               Pg 267


Reviews for chapter 39

Freida Galst- FUNNY-OMG this is soooooooo funny!

If any image on this site is considered to be offensive, it will be removed. If it has been copied without
proper consent, please contact me immediately and the image will either be removed, or credit shall be
given unto the person or persons responsible. Whether it be an artist, photographer, cartoonist., etc.

PG 265) Magica Lesson II by Michael Cheval -

PG 265) Parasites of necessity by Chris Mars -

PG 265) Duryea Runabout with Charles Duryea - (circa 1894)

PG 266)
Lovecraft's Nightmare B by Michael Whelan -

PG 267)
In sight of apocalypse by Daniel Conway

PG 267) Bottled up anger by John Holcroft