Header 2

Dumar rubbed his crotch. “Yeah, Paw, like…”

“It’s like my dick loves headers so much, it stays half-hard, like, all the time.”

Helton nodded, and rubbed his crotch. “Let it be a warnin’ to ya, though. Headers feels so good, and so much better’n reglar pussy…folks can git misguided sometimes. They ferget that yer only s’posed to have headers to revenge a serious crime. But ta have a header willy-nilly—like Caudill used ta…it’s up’n the worst sin a man can commit. You boys understand?”

Dumar and Micky-Mack nodded…but they each rubbed their crotch again.

“So what we do now, Paw?”

“Yeah, Unc. If all’a this Paulie fella’s kin is up in New York and thereabouts, how’s come we didn’t stay there? Aside from his wife, he ain’t got?no more rellertives down our ways, and that black fella tolt us she’s out’a town.”

Dumar leaned forward on his milk crate, query in his eyes. “You figure Paulie’s gonna throw in the towel?”

Helton opened a bag of Riceworks Gourmet Brown Rice Crisps that he’d stolen from Marshie’s mansion. They tasted funny, kind of…citified, but were good enough. “I’d like ta think so, son, but there ain’t no way he’ll call off the feud”—Helton eyed his son and nephew quite solemnly—“not after he seen what we done ta his Maw.”

Several sobersided moments passed, then—

The three men busted out laughing.

Micky-Mack was hee-hawing so hard he had tears in his eyes. “We fucked his Maw! In her head!”

“Two at a time!” Dumar guffawed.

“And then Droop—ole Droop!”

“I’d pay cash money ta see the look on Paulie’s face when he seed a egg-suck dog fuckin’ his Maw’s head!” Dumar wheezed.

“And I’ll’se bet it was some look, boys!” Helton roared.

Micky-Mack: “And them big citified implants stickin’ out, and there’s ole Droop humpin’ away and havin’ hisself a nut in her brain!”

They all high-fived.

When they settled down, Dumar asked, “But, Paw, gettin’ back ta more serious stuff… It’s your hankerin’ that Paulie’ll be so sure-fired pissed…that he’ll get us back?”

“I think he shorely will son, sorry ta say.”

“But how, Unc?” the youngster queried next. “Our kin all live back in the boonies spread out clear across the next three counties. He ain’t gonna be able ta find ’em.”

“He’ll find ’em if’n he sets his mind to,” Helton assured. “All it takes is askin’ a few folks a few questions.” He raised a finger. “So’s when he does? We gots ta be ready.”

Micky-Mack moaned. “Aw, Unc Helton—you mean we’se’ll have ta go back to New York City? ”

Dumar moaned as well, and put a hand to his belly. “Dang, Paw. That’s one place I don’t never wanna see no more.”

“Scary just ta look at,” Micky-Mack added. “All them buildin’s reachin’ high up in the sky, all’a that noise’n all them cars’n’ buses, and all that honkin’‘n jabberin’n folks scowlin’n walkin’ fast—”

Dumar: “All talkin’ on them cellphone things whilse they’se walkin’ and drinkin’ at them weird Starbuck places’n all that dirt’n smoke in the air.”

“I’se don’t never wanna go back there neither, boys,” Helton said, still a bit dizzy in the recollection. “Big cities ain’t natural, ain’t what God wants fer folks. Ain’t right fer people to be livin’ way up in the air like that, in all that cee-ment’n such. Damn buildin’s are so high ya cain’t even see the proper light’a day. And, dang, the smell’a that one place we droved through—what was it? Chinatown?—it were shorely the devil’s ass-crack we was smellin’.” Helton shook his head. “But dependin’ on how long this here feud lasts, well…we just might have ta go back. In the meantime, though…” The big man looked deeply at his companions. “I been thinkin’. See, there is one’a Paulie’s kin— one I plum up’n fergot about—one not too far at all from where we’se are sittin’ right now…”

“Really, Unc?” Micky-Mack asked, incredulous.

“Who is it, Paw?”

Helton just smiled and said no more of it. Then he bid his kin goodnight, blew out the candle, and they all fell fast asleep.

(III)

Paulie had indeed called his lovely wife Marshie at her suite at the BeIaggio in Las Vegas, Nevada, and she had indeed possessed the knowledge that Paulie so fervently sought. When asked, “We’re havin’ a tear-ass good time down here but we need to know where this fuck Helton’s relatives live. Any idea, like, if his mother is still alive?” she’d answered in a delighted redneck shriek, “Oh, yeah, Paulie! The old withered fuck’s name is Petunia Tuckton, and she’s like real old, and ya knows what, hon? Last year she had herself a stroke and they stuck her in a nursin’ home—the Daisy-Chase nursin’ home in Peerce Point! Ain’t but a hop, skip’n a jump from Pulaski!” and that had brought a veritable well of joy to Paulie’s heart. Marshie had also mentioned that Helton Tuckton was known to drive a “big-ass black truck,” which might prove useful as well.

Argi had been assigned “torch” duty, and in truth, this was by no means the first nursing home he’d set fire to. He’d torched the north-end of the Daisy-Chase facility—a simple yet formidable diversion—then he and his associates had spirited one octonegeric Petunia Tuckton—urinary catheter and all—from her window in the south- end wing. Previously, however, they’d made a pit stop back at the warehouse, for…some things they might need. Among those things were several shovels.

Then they’d found a suitable secluded field, set up their camera, and began to dig.

— | — | —

Chapter 14

(I)

Veronica dreamed of her wedding night. Standing beside her, of course, was Mike, debonair and so handsome in his tux. Veronica wore a flowing, white wedding gown…and she’d deliberately not worn a bra because she knew how turned on Mike got over her breasts and nipples. Before she knew it, they both exchanged their “I do’s” and the reverend was saying “I now pronounce you man and wife,” and then the organ belted out its verifying notes as their union of matrimony was now sealed in the eyes of God.

Later, Veronica stretched back nude on the huge bed in the bridal suite. It was time to