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By Day or By Night

  M. Glenn Aldridge

  Copyright 2009 M. Glenn Aldridge

  By Day or By Night

  M. Glenn Aldridge

  Prologue

  Dear Jessi's Diary: These are the sad events as I recall them about three years ago.

  ps: Also, there's some stuff I'll tell you that was written in the paper or told to me by folks from around town. It's their words not mine!

  Dinner

  "I say hang 'em from the nearest tree!" yelled Daddy as he splashed his fork into his mashed taters and gravy.

  "John, can't we talk about something besides police work tonight," asked Momma in her normal soft, calming tone; which by the way doesn't usually work at calming Barnsdall Oklahoma's Chief of Police John Long down. No when Daddy gets all red faced he pretty much stays that way for quite a while.

  Daddy took a big swig of his beer and dug into his meal.

  Momma looked around the table at my little brother Johnny and I with an "I'm sorry for the big people talk" look on her face.

  I don't feel so small; all of seven now but pretty grown up for my age. I can stand a little grown up talk. I understand it a lot more than Momma knows, or maybe wants to admit. She doesn't seem to want to see her little Jessica grow up too fast. Now Johnny only being a tot just now, all cute and messy with food on his face sitting there with a funny smirk, probably doesn't understand anything but the tone of Daddy's voice; a tone of anger. That's probably what Momma dislikes the most. The impact Daddy's passion for law enforcement, heavy on the enforcing part, has on little Johnny. I think he's a tough little guy though ? takes after his big sister.

  I look out for Johnny you know. He's a good kid and fun to have around. He's my only brother; only sibling as a matter of fact unless you count our dog Hank, so I figure I better stay close to him. Wouldn't want him wandering off or anything ? ha ha!

  "Katherine, I don't see any problem with talkin' 'bout people following the law ? and those that don't otta have to pay for it. How else will they learn?" Daddy replied making sure to use Momma's proper name. He's good at that, especially when he knows she doesn't like the things he's saying. He knows it only sets her off to be called Kathy, or Kat or something. She's a Katherine, prim and proper.

  "John ? now you know it's not the talk about the law that's ? well the problem. It's how you get your blood up so much when you talk about it. A man as large as you shouldn't look or talk so angry; it scares folks, especially the little ones." Momma looked at Johnny first then made a quick glance at me. I think she was acknowledging that I'm not so little no more.

  Large is an understatement really. Daddy's a very big man. He says he's the "perfect size" for law enforcement; just big enough to intimidate folks into not fighting with him, but not too big to be slow when he has to put the hurt on someone. I think he said he's six foot six and weighs two forty-five. He likes to joke around and say that song was written about him. Daddy will walk around whistling it sometimes and sing some parts like "kinda broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip" ? don't give no lip or something like that; then he'll bellow out in that deep low voice of his: "BIG JOHN". It's pretty funny to hear and especially to see.

  Ya know, I've never really seen another man, in person, that looks like Daddy; so big and tall with short blond hair and a chiseled jaw. He's kinda like a cross between that guy from Planet of the Apes and that cowboy actor guy named John something all the men my Daddy's age seem to like so much. He's old ya know; Daddy's like well over thirty; like thirty-five I think because Momma jokes and tells him every day that goes by he's closer to forty than he is thirty. That's old.

  "Katherine, you married a law man and you know it. It takes a man like me to keep a town safe. Barnsdall has low crime because a man like me's willing to climb down in the gutters with the scum and kick their asses! ? I mean butts." Daddy knew what was coming after cussin'.

  "John! That's what I'm talkin' about. Cussin' in front of the children; you otta be 'shamed of yourself." Momma seemed to have her blood up a little now too.

  I said: "Oh Momma, I've heard worse cuss words than that at school," I just figured she ought to know it wasn't that bad. Plus I wanted to talk too ya know.

  "Well Jessica ? you better not be repeating those bad words," replied Momma with a light frown.

  Daddy winked at me and laughed. Then Johnny laughed and so did I ? eventually Momma joined in, maybe realizing ass isn't that bad a word. Really it isn't ya know. In fact, I once road an Ass out at Bernie Shaw's ranch; it wasn't so bad ? though I still like horses better.

  Momma's so pretty when she laughs; that is when she smiles. She's a bit younger than Daddy and she looks younger by far. Some of the boys at school call her the local "Hot Momma", and that quickly gets them a punch in the arm. But all kiddin' aside, Momma is really easy on the old eyes; that's what Daddy says anyways. She's, oh I think about five foot five and doesn't weigh much I'm sure. Daddy says she's a little thing but has all the curves in the right places; whatever that means. I like her green eyes and her long brown hair. Her hair always smells like rose petals. She says it's the shampoo she uses, but I think it might just be her. She's pretty like a rose.

  "Well Jessica, just remember only simple minds use simple words like cuss words," Momma said while still laughing a little.

  "Oh Momma please call me Jessi; everybody else does ? Jessica's so ? well so proper.

  "Well sweetie ? Jessica ? I named you Jessica because I like the name, thought it would suit you well. It's a pretty name like you," she reached over and ran her hand through my blond hair. "So ? I'll call you by your proper name thank you very much," Momma said with a smile.

  I think she likes to call me Jessica just 'cause no one else does. Kinda makes her feel special or somethin'. I spose I can live with that, but don't let me catch someone else doin' it or they'll get a punch in the arm; and hard.

  Well the laughing fit my mood better. Sometimes I get tired of the hot headed stuff. Light hearted dinner talk fits our kitchen better ya know. Momma keeps such a nice house and decorates the kitchen and everything else so well ? it's like relaxing.

  Our kitchen isn't very big, we live in a smallish double wide trailer down by Bird Creek on East Maple, but Momma sure makes the best of it. She likes to decorate in the old west style, but with a girly side to it. Not too girly though so that's ok. I mean she puts in the normal cowboy stuff but adds a touch of flowers and candles and stuff that fits her taste; pretty nice.

  Daddy doesn't seem to notice much in regards to decorating. I sometimes wonder if he'd even be able to tell you what color the walls are in each room of the house. He just seems to have his mind on other things. He spends a lot of time out in his work shed out back. Always working on some beat up hunk of junk and drinking his stinky beer; that is when he's not doing his police work, which is most of the time.

  Daddy's work shed, or I guess you could call it a small garage or something, always smells like a mixture between oil, beer and lava soap for some reason. My Momma calls it a "drab" place. She's offered to decorate for him, but he won't have any of it. He tells Momma that she has the house and he has his work shed. He says he'll finish his muscle car restoration, I think it's called a sail fish or shark or barracuda or something, long before he worries what hangs on the walls of his work shed. He does have a calendar with pictures of hot rods though; but it's about three years out a date. That's Daddy for ya. Pretty relaxed about decorations, but not relaxed at all about his police work. He's real serious 'bout that.

  "Daddy, why do folks have to be so bad sometimes," I asked 'cause it seems like I see nice folks doing good things all the time but Daddy seems to only see the
bad ones.

  "That's a hell of a question honey," Dad replied with a swig of his beer. "Let me think about that for a minute," he finished off his last piece of fried chicken.

  "Hell, helllll helll hhheeellll ? HELL!" Johnny seems to catch the bad words out of a conversation and throw them back at you with extra speed and emphasis. He was kind of jumping up and down in his highchair as he yelped.

  "Thank you very much Mr. John Scott Long! You continue to teach our children that filthy mouth." You knew you were in trouble with Momma when she broke into calling you by all three of your names. The added Mr. was just icing on the cake. "Sometimes John ? I swear."

  "You swear?" Daddy was trying to be funny as he tossed his head back to finish the last drop of his beer. He then reached back behind him and opened the refrigerator door to retrieve another. That'd make seven, just at dinner, by my count. The empty bottle busted in the trash can as Daddy tossed it across the room on top of the six others in there.

  "John, you know what I mean Mr. Smarty pants." Momma then leaned over and whispered into Johnny's ear, telling him how not to repeat that word.

  Daddy didn't seem to be bothered by Momma's mood really. He was itchin' to talk more about the bad people he sees each day.

  "Well Daddy?" I asked again because I'm not always patient ya know.

  "Jessi, I'll tell you what ? " Daddy kind of frowned as Momma interrupted him.

  "Jessica ? her name is Jeessiiccaa ?" Momma looked serious but her voice had a smile in it.

  "Ok, ok ? Jessica, I'll tell you what ? some folks are just born bad, while others learn it from years of environment. You know what I mean?" Daddy looked around the table as if to see nodding heads. There were none.

  "Umm, well I know what it means if someone is born bad," I was pretty sure anyways.

  "What's that Jessica," Momma joined in the conversation by testing my knowledge.

  "Well like in the Bible and stuff; like the devil was born evil. I 'spose some folks are just born evil." I looked at Daddy for approval.

  "That's right hon," Daddy said with a ruffle of my hair.

  "Well Jessica that's a pretty negative way to look at things; we surely need to remember forgiveness when we think of bad people. Let's remember that. In fact some folks believe people are not born bad at all." Momma's always making a point; especially when Daddy talks negative.

  "But what do you mean by 'years of environment' Daddy?" I really had no idea what he meant.

  "Iron man ? iron man! Johnny was giving his two cents worth.

  "No Johnny not iron man; ennviirroonnment, environment," Momma leaned over and put her hand on Johnny's back.

  "EnnnvironMINT!" Johnny said with unbridled enthusiasm.

  "That's right honey," Momma replied without realizing Johnny really thought they were talking about candy mints.

  "Well Jessi ? Jessica," Daddy said with a soft smile at Momma. "Some folks have a good up bringin' and some folks don't. "Some parents choose to raise their kids right, like your Momma here, and some sons-a-bitches treat their kids bad or let them run wild with no discipline; then all those kids learn is bad. So their upbringing environment influences them to be ? well bad as adults ? and as kids too I suppose.

  "Suns bitt ? suns bitt!" Johnny was smiling real big as he said it.

  "Thanks John, thanks a lot," Momma was still upset but seemed to be coming to terms now with the foul language. As most nights she starts out upset about it, but then gradually falls into acceptance. That's the man she married.

  "I think I understand," I said but wasn't completely sure.

  "Well Jessica, what I think Daddy means is some people have a difficult life as a child and that makes them hard hearted and sometimes mean as adults. It's not really their fault, it was their circumstances; their environment. Understand?" Momma always has a way of explaining things more softly than Daddy.

  "Yeah, I got it," and I really did.

  "Jesus tap dancing Christ Katherine! It's that kind of manure that gives the criminals the excuse to commit their crimes and feel OK about it. 'It's not really their fault' ? come on Katherine adults can't just blame a tough childhood for their crappy adult behavior. You understand that Jessi!"

  Daddy had a condescending tone to his voice when speaking to Momma and he wasn't asking me if I understood anymore, rather he was telling me to understand. It made me feel like I'd better understand or else; or else there would be dire consequences. Daddy had a way of influencing people like that, and not just kids. He has a way of impressing his opinions, and even more so the way he wants things done, on everyone ? or else! I guess that makes for a good Chief of Police.

  "Well, some folks just believe more in forgiveness than others John; that's all I'm saying." Momma let out a soft breath and began clearing the table. It was her submissive sign that Daddy had won out with his opinions. He nearly always does with Momma. It seems that's our normal dinner time procedure.

  Johnny kept asking for his "EnnnvironMINT" candies as Daddy fetched another beer from the frig and made his way out to his work shed to do what he does out there. He doesn't help with the dishes much. In fact, not at all; but I do. I don't suppose I have to, you know I could probably find an excuse like school work or something that needs to be done, but I like helpin' Momma out. It's our alone time together each evening; I mean Johnny's there but Daddy's not. It allows Momma the time to explain in more detail what Daddy means when he says the things he does. How Daddy has a tough job and how stressful it can be. How Daddy keeps us all safe and makes Barnsdall a great place to live and raise a family.

  Ya know what? Sometimes I wish Daddy had a less stressful job, maybe he would be happier. But then I spose we need men like Daddy to do that hard work; he's certainly no good at washing dishes so he must be good at other things.

  Momma sometimes implies things I think I understand; and other times just tells it like it is. She'll say things like: "your Daddy's lack of visible happiness is less a reflection of the job and more of the man. It's the chicken and the egg concept." She says Daddy wasn't too awful happy before his police job.

  Momma can be real smart (she calls it articulate, I think) sometimes; but then its funny how she falls back into her southern talk right after. You know ya'll and folks and such. I think she's a lot smarter than Daddy, but doesn't want to make him angry by using too big of words. Who really knows why adults do the things they do anyways. They sure are good at makin' things complicated.

  After dishes, Momma and Johnny and I watched a little TV and went off to bed. From my bedroom window I could see the light on out there in Daddy's work shed, but didn't hear any work being done and I didn't see anyone moving around out there. He was still out there when I fell asleep.

  Off To School

  Daddy's our family's alarm clock. He gets up real early in the mornings; even if he's stayed up late the night before drinkin'. He calls it military time or something. All I know is it's usually before the sun rises.

  I get my bath while Momma makes breakfast, with Johnny helping out. Well if you call sleeping in his highchair helping. I guess it might be really, it's better than him throwing things or pitching a fit as some babies do. You know come to think of it, Johnny hardly ever acts up. He's such a good little brother.

  Daddy's usually sitting at the kitchen table with his second or third cup of coffee when I make my way into the kitchen. He likes to read the paper in the mornings and carry on about the happenings in town and around Osage County. It's not unlike his dinner talk really.

  "Good morning Jessica," Momma said with a smile as I entered the kitchen. She's usually still dressed in her night robe with a cooking apron over the top. The aroma in the kitchen makes you hungry even if you weren't when you woke up.

  "Good morning Momma ? good morning Daddy," Daddy doesn't reply; too into his newspaper I guess. Johnny's asleep in his highchair.

  "Come over here honey and take a look a
t what I'm makin'." Momma says that just about every morning and I usually see the same thing in the frying pan; it's good stuff though. She usually has most of it done before I get out of the bathroom as Daddy likes to eat alone; I think. But Momma keeps everything heating on the stove so it's real warm when it's my turn to eat.

  Eggs, bacon, sausage, hot cakes, toast (often French), and such. Boy I tell ya, Momma can cook. I think Daddy really appreciates that, but he rarely mentions it. I can just tell he does though.

  One good thing about getting up real early in the morning is you get to watch the sunrise. And another good thing is that you can have a nice leisurely breakfast. Most times Daddy finishes up just as I sit down.

  "Well kids ? off to the job." Daddy calls his work being "on the job". Police talk I guess. Anyways, out the door he goes with a big thermos of coffee. He says caffeine early gets you through the day and beer late gets you through the night. I've seen him drink both all day before though.

  Daddy seems about as cheerful as he gets when he heads out "on the job" in the mornings. I really think he likes his work, even though he complains about it so much. That's fine by me, him leaving out so early and all, especially if it makes him happy. It leaves Johnny and Momma and I the time to have a nice quiet breakfast.

  "So'd you sleep well honey?" Momma asked as she sat down to the table with me.

  "Pretty good yep."

  "No nightmares?" Momma said as she took a nibble of toast and jam.

  I'd been having nightmares about things I'd rather not repeat. Momma says a lot of kids around my age have nightmares about bad things. She says it's a little bit of fear of the dark, a little bit of the bogyman thing, and a whole lot of growin' up too fast; that is she thinks TV these days is so violent and puts these scary thoughts in little kids minds and then it creeps up on them at night when they are asleep. I try to remind Momma that I'm not a little kid, but she always just says "you'll always be my little kid".

  "Nothing to speak of really," I fibbed a little bit.

  "Ok then Jessica ? how's your eggs?" Momma probably didn't believe me about the nightmares, but she's not one to push people much. That's nice.

  "They're great Momma, so's everything else ? mmmmm!" That made Momma smile real big. With the early morning sun shining through the window on her face it amazed me how youthful she looked. I wondered if when I was a little older folks might mistake her for my big sister. Her youthful appearance really seems to spill over into her personality too ? just a thought.

  Momma and I chatted, as most days, and Johnny listened as he went in and out of sleep. He would occasionally shout out some approval or a random cuss word he picked up from Daddy. That didn't spoil Momma's good morning usually, but it didn't help none either.

  After breakfast we quickly readied ourselves for the short drive to school. I could walk ya know. Nowhere in Barnsdall is a long ways, but driving in's pretty nice too. I think Johnny likes getting out for a drive anyways. Momma seems to like how it makes her feel responsible. Ya know watching me enter the school all safe and all. I 'spose I'll understand that better when I have kids some day.

  Momma's real efficient about getting Johnny ready to go; doesn't take much with the warm Oklahoma mornings. He could pretty much just go in his diapers. I like to try to get him to walk with me but Momma says it's a long ways out to the car with those little legs. Anyways he's cute when he walks, or waddles.

  Johnny doesn't seem to mind sitting in the back, he just mumbles little baby stuff and occasionally screams out in excitement if he sees or hears something he likes. Me ? I just sit in the front seat with my book bag on my lap.

  Don't get me wrong, I like the ride to school ya know. It's just that I've seen it all before. There's not a lot of "new" in Barnsdall. I don't think things have changed here in fifty years; maybe never, maybe forever. I know forever's a long time, but it kinda feels like it here in this small town. But, it's still a place I tend to love.

  As we make our way up Maple Street I see the same old houses, just as they've always looked; run down a bit really. I see the same old pot holes in the street that are always being planned to be fixed next month.

  It's not but about thirty seconds before we're up town on Main Street and I see our posted claim to fame. A sign on Main Street (also Highway 11) for all to see! It reads: "Birth Place of Anita Bryant, and former home of Clark Gable". I do have to admit that's pretty cool for a small town of only about thirteen hundred folks.

  I've been told Anita Bryant was a pretty good singer, but I've never heard her sing; I don't think. Daddy says Clark Gable used to work the old oil fields around town. I heard some other folks say he used to work at the wax plant in town; back when it was booming. Who knows what's really true? But I do think he was here for a few years at least 'cause I've seen pictures of him up by the oil well.

  Oh yeah, the oil well. Don't let me forget about that little Barnsdall tidbit. As you make your way up the hill to the school you'll see right there, smack dab, in the center of Main Street ? an oil well of all things. It's supposed to be the world's only Main Street oil well. If you ask me, that oil well is less of a cool tourist attraction and more of a bobsledding hazard!

  See on the few days each year when Barnsdall gets enough snow for kids to go out sledding, we all head up to the hill. It's a real steep hill and fun to sled down. Only real problem is that darn oil well right at the bottom of the steepest part of the hill. You hit that thing and, let me tell ya; it really smarts.

  Last winter Steve Heatley hit the fence surrounding the oil well so hard it knocked a knot on his head the size of a baseball. The darn thing's a nuisance I say! But the older folks think it's really neat to be able to say it's the only one in the world, so it stays, no matter how many kids get knots on their heads. Go figure the logic in that.

  I see all the kids making their way up the hill; though not in too big of a hurry really. Seems no one's ever in a big hurry 'round here. It's kind of nice if you just let the calmness of a small town wash over you. But ? if you really want to get somethin' done it can be a little annoying. I think Momma loves it. I think Daddy doesn't sometimes.

  "You're not very talkative this morning Jessica."

  "Momma ? please ? Jessi!"

  "Oh, Jessica don't you have enough people that call you that to allow me to call you by your proper name?" Momma reached over and touched me on the top of my head.

  "I guess so," I replied with a sigh that had to let Momma know that after the hundredth time of asking her to call me Jessi I was sure she'dve given in by now. Not a chance, Momma probably would never give in on that, but I'll keep trying for a while longer.

  "Johnny what do you think," Momma was trying to team up on me now.

  "'essica Jesscaaaaaa," Johnny replied while slapping his hands on his car seat.

  "See Jessica ? Johnny agrees ? Jessica it is then." Momma smiled real big as she turned into the school driveway. I guess she thought with Johnny's stamp of approval I'd just give in. Maybe some day, but not now I thought.

  "Ok Momma," I was just humoring her and something told me she knew it.

  As we drove up to the front of the school I saw Richard Moore getting out of his Daddy's Cadillac in front of us. That Richard really thinks he's somethin'. I'm not jealous or anything ? I mean I have all I really need and just 'cause his Daddy's rich doesn't make him better than everyone. It's just that Richard acts all high and mighty, like he's better than most ? if not all. The teachers seem to treat him better than the rest of us too; like he's special or something. I just don't like it.

  Anyways, I also saw a bunch of my friends playing. Daddy calls what they were doing "playin' grab ass", but Momma says it nicer: "horsin' around". There was Shelly Aultz, Jennifer Reagan, Kathy Jones, David Spencer (not sure I'd really call him a friend?), John Oyster, and my bestest friend Heather McCabe. They were all running around and such, just havin' a good time. I
almost jumped out of the car without saying goodbye, but that would have been rude.

  "I see your friend Heather over there Jessica," Momma sometimes likes to point out the obvious, just to spark up a conversation. She's a little more small town than me ? what I mean is she likes slowwwww longgggg goodbyes. And ? she knows I don't. I mean I don't even like goodbyes so why would I drag them out? But Momma says being polite when you say hello and polite when you say goodbye is real important to most folks. She also says it gives me patience. She's always telling me I need more patience. Momma's probably right.

  "Yup that's her all right," I said while salivating out the car window. I just wanted to get goin'.

  "Don't you have an important spelling test today?"

  "Nope that's tomorrow," I really think Momma knew that but just wanted to prolong our conversation. She's funny like that sometimes.

  "Oh, well I've just noticed how much you've been studying for it and figured it might be today."

  "Nope tomorrow," I had to try pretty hard not to let my impatience show in my voice, but I was fidgeting quite aggressively with my book bag straps, and that probably gave away my state of mind.

  "Well I was just going to wish you luck, but I'll hold that until tomorrow then ? and you probably don't need luck anyway; you're so smart," Momma smiled real big at me.

  "Oh Momma!"

  "Well you are honey and that makes me happy ? having a pretty and smart daughter." Momma was beaming now and it was embarrassing me.

  "Thank you Momma." I thought that might put an end to the overly dramatic praise.

  "You're welcome Jessica ? now give me a kiss and tell your brother goodbye for the school day."

  "Ok," I knew it would do no good to tell her how much it embarrassed me to kiss my Mother in front of all the kids; she'd just lean over and kiss me anyways. So I figured a quick smooch would be a little less conspicuous. Conspicuous ? that's one of my spelling test words; pretty big word huh? Even bigger than salivate; which I learned to spell and define two weeks ago.

  With a quick peck on the cheek, I then leaned over the back of the seat and rubbed Johnny on the forehead. It struck me that I rubbed his head much like Momma rubs mine. Maybe Momma's rubbin' off on me, ya think?

  "Johnny now you have a good day and be good for Momma ? I love you and I'll see you after school."

  "Pool pool poooool," Johnny loves swimming.

  "No Johnny not pool ? school sccchhoool ? school," Momma said slowly. She's definitely hooked on phonics.

  "Ok then Johnny you have a good day at the pool," I said as I was half way out the car door. I was only kidding ya know.

  "Jessica, don't confuse Johnny now," Momma said with a laugh in her voice.

  "Ok Momma," I yelled back as I was dashing towards my friends. A quick get away.

  Momma drove off slowly and carefully as she always does. She doesn't want to be seen speeding or anything. She'd be quite embarrassed if Daddy pulled her over; as he (or one of his other police officers) usually sits just down the road this time of the morning to make sure everyone obeys the school zone laws. He's pretty darn serious about that; well and all other law stuff ya know; but I'm repeating myself.

  As I ran up to Heather and screeched to a halt with perfect sound effects of squealing tires "SCCCRRRRREEE!", I hoped we could get in a little playin' and chit chat before the first bell.

  "Mornin' Heather," I said, surprised I was a little out of breath from my short trip from the car. But then again, I was running; and I can run real fast.

  "Hi Jessi," you want to hear my new joke?

  "Hi Chief O' Police Jessi," said David as he punched me in the arm; but not too hard.

  I punched him back extra hard for interrupting Heather and I. I think David must like me or something. Momma says that's why he's always calling me Chief of Police and punchin' me. Seems like a pretty funny way to show how much you like someone.

  "Sure Heather," I replied while making a conscious effort to ignore David now.

  "Ok here goes," Heather said while she staggered her feet shoulder with apart and squared right up to stand in front of me. "Knock knock!"

  "Who's there," I said in anticipation.

  "An interrupting cow," Heather replied with a huge smile, barely being able to keep herself from breaking out in laughter.

  "An interrupting cow w?" I wasn't able to get out the "who" before Heather broke in loudly.

  "Moo!!" Heather yelled and broke out laughing, nearly falling on the ground. She had tears in her eyes and kept trying to say something like "get it ? get it ... ha ha ? I inter ? I inter ?I interrupted you before you could say an interrupting cow who ? I interrupted with a moo like a cow." She was quite happy with her newest joke. She's always telling jokes. That's one of the things I like about my bestest friend Heather. She's funny and she's always laughing.

  I have to admit the joke was pretty darn funny; and really unexpected so I said, with a laugh: "Yeah Heather that was a good one."

  "Oh that's the sixth time I've heard that joke already this morning; it's getting old." David broke in with his opinion.

  "No one asked ya David," I said with a turned up nose.

  "What ever you say Chief," said David as he ran off somewhere to play whatever foolish games he plays.

  Shelly and Jennifer came over to join Heather and I and they asked the normal questions: "Is that your Daddy up there in the police car? Did he arrest anybody yet today? Is he mean; he sure looks mean?" Along with other law enforcement related questions. They really come up with some good questions whenever someone gets arrested, but I just tell them any details of the arrest on a "need to know" basis only. Daddy told me to say that. I get a kick out of that ? makes the kids think I know something I don't ? like Daddy would give me the details of an arrest anyways.

  Sometimes I wonder if my friends and classmates see me as just another kid or if they see me as an information hotline to the police department. There are some benefits to being the daughter of the Chief of Police, but I've found there are a lot of pitfalls too.

  Rinnngggg goes the first school bell of the day.

  On The Job

  As I overheard Mr. Swanson telling another older man down at the coffee shop

  I guess John was just sitting up there by the Dairy-Go-Round on Main Street sippin' on a cherry lime aide or somethin'; maybe having some fries too, the Dairy-Go-Round has some good fries. Hard work for the Chief of Police ya know.

  Well it bein' about 10:30 in the morning on a school day you don't see a lot of speeders fly through town, but with Main Street also being Highway 11 you never know who might be passing through our little town. Some out-a-towners just don't respect small towns and all. Ya know you'd think the'd have 'nough sense to know most small towns have their speed traps set up.

  Well this ole' boy just come barrelin' down Highway 11 and ran the stop sign turning left onto Mains Street/Highway 11 right in front of John Long. John took that as a pretty big insult; ya know breaking the law in broad day light right in front of the Chief of Police and all.

  And that wasn't the worst of it really. That guy squealed his tires and racked off his glass pack tail pipes so loud you'd a thought the guy must not have a brain in his head. I mean right in front of a cop! Anyways, turns out the ole' boy's from just outside of Pawhuska; lives on a farm with his parents, helps out and such, think his names Josh Walker, only seventeen and a high school drop out. That 'xplains why he was out runnin' around during school hours. That only pisses ole' John off even more ya know. Not that John's so big on schoolin' but he just don't like folks stirring up trouble during school time. He figures that's supposed to be a quiet time. In fact, John really don't like people stirring up trouble most times.

  Oh by the way, I once overheard John telling one of his police officers that he thinks those damn kids with their glass pack pipes must be compensating for some shortcomings; you know trying to draw attention to themselves for
a lack of a substantial male appendage. Ha ha, I'd have to agree ? I sure would; loud pipes or a corvette right?

  Anyways, ole' John musta spilled his drink in his lap as he was hurrying to fire up the roof and get after Josh, 'cause when he got out of his police car I saw he was all wet.

  But I'm gettin' ahead a bit. See I don't know if Josh didn't see, or care to see, John Long running up behind him with his lights on down Main Street. God knows it's hard to see those police lights in the light of day, but Josh just kept on goin' for quite a ways until John hit the siren. He doesn't like to fire up the siren in town because it usually stirs everybody up. John knows if he hasta' use that siren then everybody in town will either be ear smashed to their little hand held police scanners or comin' as fast as they can to the siren to see what's goin' on. It's kind of like ringing Pavlov's dinner bell ? everybody starts salivatin' like a dog.

  Well in this case John had no choice but to use the siren. At least Josh pulled over pretty quick after he heard the siren, but that didn't make John Long any happier. He was pissed. Mad 'cause his calm morning was ruined, mad because he spilled his drink, mad 'cause he thought he was gonna have to chase that kid down when he didn't stop right away, mad because he was forced to use the siren when he hates to, and even more mad when he got out of the car and saw about half the town already starting to rubberneck what was goin' on. Tell ya what ? you can bet your day ain't gonna be good when you look in your rear view mirror and see ole' John Long getting' out of his police car angry and wet from spillin' his drink 'cause you decided to speed through his town of Barnsdall, OK. That's the God's honest truth I'll tell ya.

  I saw John, all six foot six of him, walk slowly toward Josh's beat up Ford pickup. It looked to be about a '69 with more rust than paint and bald tires ta' boot. Looked like it had a busted tail light and John was checking out the tags; they looked out-a-date to me.

  John put his hand on the tailgate of the truck and looked up at the clear blue sky, shook his head and spat a dark line of snuff out on the grass next to the road. He scratched the back of his neck and walked real slow up to the driver's side door.

  "Son; son," Chief of Police John Long had a condescending tone to his voice. "License and registration."

  Josh Walker had a look on his face that said: "I'm busy boy, don't bother me"; the wrong look to shoot at John Long. He leaned over and pulled out his billfold and looked in his review mirror for some reason.

  "I sure hate to put you out young man, but ? license and registration," John's voice was quite stern.

  "Ok, ok Mr. Policeman hold your horses." Josh began rummaging through his wallet and eventually produced his driver's license. When he handed it out the window to John he bypassed John's out stretched hand and more handed the license to John's chest, causing John to have to take a quarter step back and bend his arm to retrieve the license. Josh had a sarcastic grin on his face as he did this.

  "Let's not get off on the wrong foot now ?" John glanced down at the driver's license, "Josh Walker".

  "I have no idea what you're talkin' 'bout Mr. Policee-man. Josh overemphasized and held the "E" in policeman with a big smile. You might call it a shit-eatin' grin really.

  John just glanced at Josh then looked again at the driver's license and said: "hmm".

  "So you wanta tell me why you stopped me?" Josh actually sounded serious, like he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what he'd done. This little game didn't appear to please ole' John one bit.

  "First things first Mr. Walker ? registration?" John put a hand on the top doorsill of driver's side door; taking up a position of authority with his posture.

  Josh looked at him with less of a sarcastic look now and one more of seriousness. Not really fear but he looked like he was starting to understand the man before him was a "serious" man.

  "Now!" John snapped loudly.

  Josh didn't say a word, just slide over on the truck's seat and opened the glove compartment. As he did this John leaned hard on the driver's side door, actually tipping the truck a little sideways on it's worn out suspension, and put his free hand on his stainless steel Smith & Wesson .357 magnum revolver.

  I don't blame John for that you know; hell everybody in Oklahoma's got a gun in their glove compartment. Either in their glove box or hanging in a gun rack on the rear window of their pickup. That is everybody but Josh. Turns out he just had a bunch of junk in his glove box.

  Josh filed through the junk and began looking a little nervous when he realized he didn't have his registration card. John didn't look too surprised when Josh looked over at him and shrugged his shoulders.

  "Guess I left it in my other business suit," said Josh with a laugh.

  "I see," replied John with a laugh of his own. It was not a laugh of agreement. "Out of the truck son."

  "What ? hell Mr. Policeman I wasn't doin' nothin'; why'd you pull me over anyways?

  "Out ? NOW!" John was about done with the foolin' 'round crap.

  "Ok, ok Jesus," said Josh as he reached for the passenger door handle, as he was still sitting in front of the glove compartment.

  "This side boy," John said with a loud whack to the roof of the Ford pickup.

  Josh slowly slid back over under the wheel and reached for the driver's side door handle. As he did this John jerked the door open quickly and Josh nearly fell out on his head.

  "Come on boy, quit the bullshit I'm in no mood," John looked angry now, but didn't really sound it.

  As Josh stood up in front of John Long beside the truck, he looked up to see an enormous man that was not joking around. From my vantage point young Josh Walker looked to be about half the size of ole' Big John.

  "Now," John said in a low slow voice, "to answer your question about why I stopped you son. I stopped you because you started off by speeding down Highway 11 into town, then you ran the stop sign onto Main Street, then reckless driving (sliding sideways and all), and I'm still ponderin' on the failure to yield to an officer. That enough to put the light bulb on above your head, or would you like me to dissect your bone head actions any further?" John looked directly into Josh Walkers' eyes and smirked a little.

  "Well ociffer [intentionally said wrong] I just have no idea what y're talkin' 'bout," Josh replied with sarcasm that didn't exude a high level of intelligence. An intelligent young man would have seen the signs; would have recognized the serious nature of Chief of Police John Long, and would have either been politely contrite or simply kept his big mouth shut. Not Josh Walker though, he was a bit of a hot head and a whole lot of a smart ass.

  "Ok young Mr. Walker," John took a half step towards Josh, "we seem to have a bit of a misunderstanding; you seem to have me confused with someone that would ? put up with your juvenile delinquent attitude." John's voice was deep, almost a growl. He placed his left hand firmly on Josh's right shoulder and continued talking. "I'm certain we can get on the same page boy."

  Josh looked directly at the hand on his shoulder then back at Big John Long and ill advisedly remarked: "What ever."

  Even from across the street I could see the striations of muscles in Big John's forearm as he clamped his hand down on Josh's shoulder. Initially Josh squirmed a little, trying to break free, but when he realized he couldn't get loose he clamped his own hands down on John's wrist; trying to break his grasp. Young Josh Walker's two hands were no match for John's one enormous mitt. Josh fell to his knees in pain and John stood above him still clamping down like a vice on his shoulder.

  Norma Thompson gasped beside me when she saw the commotion across the street. Norma seemed to think there was trouble and someone otta call for backup for John Long or something. I just laughed and said: "Maybe we should call for backup for Josh; I don't think ole' Big John needs any help."

  "Now you listen son ? and you listen real good," John had pure rage in his voice now. "You and I are gonna quickly come to an understanding; or I'm gonna tear your goddamn arm off right at the shou
lder ? you understand me you smart ass little shit?" John clamped down extra hard and then smacked Josh on the back of the head with his free hand.

  "Ok ok!" Replied Josh in a high pitched tone.

  "You gonna keep that smart mouth of yours closed now?"

  "Yeah yeah!"

  "Yeah what boy?"

  "Ye- ye- yes sir ? yes sir," Josh almost sounded like he was going to cry now; he must have been in some serious pain and a lot of humiliation ta' boot.

  "Better ? better," John released his grasp on Josh's shoulder, but Josh remained on the ground as he started rubbing his shoulder with his hand. "On your feet soldier," said John with an exacerbated chuckle.

  John didn't even look around to see if anyone saw him being ? well overly rough with the young man. John Long didn't even seem to care. Think maybe he wanted folks to see what you get when you back sass him?

  Josh slowly got back to his feet and John leaned up against the beat up Ford pickup, taking out a fresh pinch of Skoll. John Long initially looked a little annoyed with the situation but now seemed to be more satisfied at getting his point across.

  "I'll tell you what Mr. Walker ? I'd thought about just one ticket for speeding for ya today, but with your attitude I'm gonna have to delve them all out ? each violation." John looked smug.

  "Oh come on sir can't you cut me a break?" Josh now sounded contrite at least.

  "Ok young man here's the break I'll give you. If you don't come back into Barnsdall driving the way you did today then the next time I see you I won't stomp you're scrawny ass."

  Josh just looked down at John's feet while he continued to rub his sore shoulder.

  "In fact ? Josh, if I were you I wouldn't even come back to town ? I'd drive around Barnsdall anytime you need to get from one side to another. I know what you're thinking ? that's a whole bunch of miles out of the way to get on down to Tulsa or where ever, but trust me son ? it'll save you from the beatin' you'll likely get if I catch you in my town again. Am I making myself perfectly clear Mr. Walker?" John's tone of voice was polite, but his words were unmistakably threatening, and the scariest part for Josh was that he knew John really meant them.

  "Yes sir," Josh replied in almost a whimper without looking up from John's feet.

  "Good," John smiled. "Now return to your vehicle while I skip on back to mine and write out your violations ? this may take a while." John had strong sarcasm in his voice.

  Josh returned to the cab of his pickup without saying a word. He walked kinda slumped over; like a whipped pup. Anyway, he surely wasn't arrogant anymore.

  John walked back to his car and sat there for a long time. It looked like he wasn't doing anything but enjoying his dip of snuff, occasionally spitting into an empty coke can. I think he just wanted to make ole' Josh wait and wait. Let the boy think about it good and hard there in the cab of his truck. Years of experience has certainly shown Chief of Police John Long how to push a law breakers buttons. In a sense you could say Big John delved out his own measure of punishment that is usually reserved for the court system. It's something to remember, unless you want some of that punishment comin' your way if you start cuttin' up in Barnsdall.

  Now I can't get in the man's head, but I just bet John wanted to make damn sure that hick farm boy just passing through town knew who the man was. He's the man ? he's the law. John surely seems to have that need; ya know to not only be the law but to be seen as the ultimate. The ultimate law, the big brother, the overseer ? the man! I suppose Big John is; at least in the small pond of Barnsdall. Big fish!

  Josh accepted his several tickets and ya know what? I've not seen him 'round here since.

  A Day In The Life

  As told to me by Miss Jennings

  "Your Momma's quite a good wife and mother honey," said Miss Jennings as she began to settle into her description of her good friend.

  I chose not to say anything; just to listen. Goodness knows I wouldn't a' been able to get a word in edgewise anyways. That woman can talk a blue streak.

  "Yeah Jessi, after taking you to school Katherine has her routine to keep things orderly for her family. Usually she heads right on back home to get busy on some housework."

  "From sweepin' and moppin' the kitchen to vacuumin' the carpets throughout the whole house ? you know I help her sometimes don't ya?" Miss Jennings was talking about a hundred miles an hour, running her sentences together and all. Sometimes it's hard to tell where her statements end and her questions begin. 'Course you don't have the time to answer her questions anyways as she usually answers 'em before you can.

  A portly lady, I think about two years my Momma's junior (though she looks about ten years older); Miss Jennings is often referred to as a fire plug. She's certainly got the color right with that bright red hair. She acts kinda like a chubby ferret that just drank about a dozen cups of coffee; but I like her, she's sorta funny.

  "Yeah, I help Katherine ever'time I get the chance, that's how I know what she does during the day. Matter of fact, I sometimes spend whole school days with your Momma and Johnny just helpin' out and talkin' and stuff." Miss Jennings smiled real big like that was some prize or something; guess it was to her.

  "If I was to keep my house as clean as Katherine keeps hers I might be able to snag a big strapping husband like your Daddy! Ha ha," Miss Jennings nudged me on the shoulder. "Fact is I'm not able to snag any husband ? oh well I have good friends ? I'm blessed in other ways." Something told me Miss Jennings didn't truly feel blessed; she seemed lonely really.

  "Yeah your Momma doesn't just stop with the floors, nearly daily, she dusts too. I usually bring my own feather duster I like so well. Bought it on the television you know. I mean it looked real good and it was real cheap so I thought why not right? I mean I could probably run to Bartlesville or down to Tulsa and find one just as good for a little less maybe, but then I'd have to take a whole day, or at least a half, and also pay for gas and then I'd probably get hungry on the trip and have to pay for a meal out, you know it's a lot cheaper to eat at home than it is in a restaurant or even fast food really. You know that honey? Well where was I, oh yeah, dusting ?.

  Miss Jennings rambled on like this for some time. She would start one thought and then before she was finished she'd move on to another. She'd ask a question then answer it herself. I didn't have to say a word in the conversation, which I didn't really mind.

  When Miss Jennings said: "Jessi you're such a good conversationalist for a young girl!" I nearly laughed my ears off. Like I said I hadn't said a word really. Maybe I was a good listener for Miss Jennings but not a good conversationalist. I think.

  "I just love spending time helpin' out, and before ya know it we're rushin' up on lunch time. We usually start cookin' 'round, oh I don't know, maybe eleven or so. Well on most days anyways, some days we start a little later and have to hurry the cookin', those are sandwich and chips days sometimes. We have to do that especially when your Daddy, the night before, drags in grease on his shoes, from his working on that hunk of junk out back, and soils the carpets. You know how hard it is to get grease out of nice carpets? Well let me tell ya hon, it's hard. Takes us most of the morning and runs right into our cookin' time. But Katherine won't give up on it she just keeps cleaning until the carpets look new. She's quite the trooper; get it trooper like policeman like your Daddy? Ha ha." Miss Jennings was rambling at such a pace now it was kind of difficult to keep up with her. I sometimes wonder if she can even understand herself. She was fidgeting something awful too. Quirky behavior you know, but a little endearing too for some reason. I like little quirks in folks, makes me feel more normal for some reason; makes me less self-conscious.

  "Well honey you already know your Momma's a good cook. I know you like to eat at the school with your friends, but you sure don't know what you're missing, that is Katherine's lunch meals. Most days they are real special (not just the sandwich thing like on dirty carpet days), things like st
ew or cheeseburgers or chicken pot pies or Mexican and sometimes she even makes stir-fry, and lots of other stuff; your Daddy sure does like those lunches. You'd really like it too hun." Something told me Miss Jennings liked the eating better than the cooking. I think with Momma it's the other way around.

  "Ya know lunch is when Johnny really gets talkative. He asks all kinds of questions like: 'what doin? ? what doin?' and 'me help?' and says stuff like 'mine mine MINE!!!' you know what I'm talkin' about right? Well he's a joy to have around, such a happy little boy. But then you know that right? You really love you brother don't you? Of course you do, I can tell." I just smiled and nodded not daring to try to get a word in between Miss Jennings speed talkin'.

  "Lunch is the next best meal to dinner and you know what's real good for lunch hon? Breakfast! Yeah that's right breakfast food is best for lunch, that's what I think, sure do. I mean is there really a bad time of day for pancakes. I could eat 'em anytime. Yeah I'd like to find the person that invented pancakes and give them a big smooch right on the lips. That must be a special person that invented pancakes, like a genius or something. I sure do think so, don't you? Yeah of course you do honey, there great!" I simply nodded again ? and really meant the nod too.

  "Oh and honey, now not everyday mind you, but we usually go shoppin' after lunch. Yeah we load little Johnny into his car seat and off we go down to the market or sometimes we make the trip to Bartlesville when Katherine feels it necessary, you know if she needs lots of stuff or something special they don't carry at any of the little stores here in town. Katherine's real thoughtful. I mean she likes to think about the town folk, you know shop at their stores and bring them business when she can. In fact she'll pay a little bit more for something in town if they have it, even if she could probably get it cheaper in B'ville. She don't tell Big John that though, he probably would want to keep a tighter hold on those purse strings than that, but your Momma cares too much about the town folk to spend the family money elsewhere if she doesn't have to. She's sweet like that. But you know that don't ya? Well of course you do. Anyways she's such a caring person, your mother, that's probably why I like her so."

  The more Miss Jennings talked so good about my Momma the more I thought: if selling my Momma as a perfect wife and mother was a nickel, Miss Jennings would be a millionaire. Momma certainly does focus in on the life, and I suppose work, of the dutiful wife and mother. Dutiful, another one of my spelling words recently. I like using it, it sounds cool; d-u-t-i-f-u-l. Anyways, Momma seems to be pretty old fashion, I mean she knows her place. She even says that when Daddy gets real far out of line but tells Momma to keep quiet about it. When I ask her why she doesn't give Daddy a piece of her mind, or why doesn't she stop him from doing or saying mean things; she says things like: "Now Jessica, a wife knows her place. In a marriage and a family the wife has her place and the husband has his. Things go along, and we all get along, much better when we know our places and stick to them closely. Your Daddy doesn't often tread in my areas and I try never to tread into his. Ultimately his decisions are his and it's not my place to question or change him."

  She has a good point I guess, but when I ask her why he questions her decisions sometimes, Momma usually just changes the subject and doesn't want to talk about it anymore. I don't really know what that means, but it almost seems as if she's blind to those things, like she can't see things aren't really fair to her sometimes; like she's living in the clouds or in some artificial perfect world in her mind. I don't know it just seems like she's so positive she often misses, or chooses to miss, some important things in Daddy that might need to be changed; or at least influenced by a woman's touch. But Momma won't go there. Maybe someday I'll fully understand why.

  "Yeah I really enjoy shopping days, you know watching Johnnie look at all the stuff in the stores and such and ask all his little boy questions and such, you know learning and all." Miss Jennings went on and on about shopping for quite some time; rambling really.

  The more Miss Jennings talked the more I nodded and eventually I began to day dream. I mean there's only so much one way conversation someone can take right? Being a good listener's one thing, but if you lend an ear to Miss Jennings she'll take it, in fact both of them, and she's off and running for a long while; like a marathon or something.

  Well I began day dreaming about fishin' with Daddy. I think that's our best time together. Now he doesn't always want me to go really, goes with his buddies most times. But when we do go, "Daddy Daughter Day", that's what we call it, is the best. It's usually a Saturday mornin' or something and Momma stays home with Johnny cookin' breakfast. Daddy and I take our aluminum boat down to Bird Creek and paddle to a good spot and catch some big catfish or bass. I'll tell ya, Bird Creek has some big brim too; but I don't even mind catchin' carp or drum. They're really no good for cookin' Momma says, but I don't care 'cause they fight like the dickens and are fun to reel in.

  Anyways, want to know something really cool? Daddy carries everything down there to the creek; I don't have to carry even one thing. He puts everything in the boat and then lifts the boat off the ground and puts it up on his head and with his arms used for balancing the boat he just trots on down to the creek like he's carrying nothing but a feather pillow on his head. I tell ya, it's like a hundred and fifty yards and he doesn't even get tired. That's how strong Daddy is.

  "Oh and the post office too, we generally stop by the post office on the way home from shopping. We usually hang out there for a bit just chit chatting with Thelma Allen, you know she's the Post Mistress, that's a funny title now isn't it? Post Mistress, just sounds funny, just sounds ya know, wrong really, don't you think? Anyways, Katherine and I like to chew the fat with Thelma and fill up a good portion of our afternoon." Miss Jennings wasn't even taking breaths between her sentences. She was getting a little red faced, but something told me she had the stamina to keep on going.

  "We, that is your Momma and I, like to talk to folks as they come into the post office too ya know. Yeah we sure do." Miss Jennings managed a small pause now to have a gulp of coffee.

  Now I know my Momma pretty darn well. She's a better listener than a talker. So if I had to put a bet down I'd have to say that Miss Jennings likes to talk to folks that came into the post office and Momma just listens and smiles a lot. Maybe since Miss Jennings considers Momma to be such a friend she'd allow her to talk a little bit more than she does others; but I really doubt it. I don't think Miss Jennings one way conversations and marathon speeches are rudeness really, I just don't think she can help herself. Maybe she's hyper or somethin'?

  "Ya and after the trip to the post office we get ready to come pick you up from school. Well on the days you let us. I know you like to walk home with your friends a lot don't you? Well of course you do, most kids do. Anyways, Johnny gets real excited when we tell him we're gonna go get Jessica. He starts clappin' his hands and sayin' stuff like: "'essca 'escca" or "'ick up at pool pool pool POOL!" it's real cute ya know. Yeah little Johnny really does love you, thinks you hung the moon ya know? Of course you know, I mean you love him that much too don't ya? Well of course you do. Ya'll sure do have a good family. You're blessed, don't forget that, a lot of kids don't have such a great family life, you're so blessed."

  Miss Jennings got a little teary eyed at this point. She's a sweet lady and I understand her sentimental tears but it was still a little awkward. I mean I'm pretty grown up and all, but still an old lady crying to a seven year old kinda freaked me out. I mean what could I say? So I said nothin', I just nodded my head; that seemed to work.

  After all of Miss Jennings ramblings it was a little hard to pin down what she was really trying to say in the first place. I mean she runs all over the place around a thought, but if I had to say what point Miss Jennings was trying to make, it would be: She thinks I have a great family, a good, strong (and handsome) provider in Daddy, a sweet little brother in Johnny
and a great wife and mother in Momma. I can't argue with that. But something else I took away from Miss Jennings was how Momma's life is one of quiet acceptance of the way things are. That is to say, she goes with the flow and enjoys life as it is. I know Miss Jennings didn't say it, but something about the way she said what she said made me feel like Momma intentionally keeps life simple and doesn't get involved in the big stuff, either in her day to day life or in dealing with her family and especially her husband. Don't ask me why I took this away from the conversation, I just did. It eats at me, and I don't yet know why.

  A Walk Home

  Now mind you, while Momma would like to pick me up from school everyday, like she insists on dropping me off in the mornings, I'm a big girl and any day I can get away with it I walk home on my own, or with friends.

  I think Momma likes to get Johnny all excited about coming to get me and she likes to see me come out of the school with my book bag, she always says I'm so cute and all. But ? like I said I'm a big girl and I need to make my own way home sometimes; most times really. I enjoy the alone time if I'm walkin' alone, or doin' a little bit of cuttin' up with my friends when we walk together. To be honest I'd probably walk home everyday if I could get away with it. Even if it was rainin' and especially if it's snowin'. If it's snowing I like to stop off at the hill and do some sledding. There's always kids doin' it when it snows and there's usually an extra sled right there ? I don't even have to go home to get mine, so why bother. But usually Momma thinks it's too cold or somethin' and insists on picking me up on those days. I tell her I won't break ya know; I'm tough. But she just insists I'll always be her little girl. That can get old pretty darn fast I tell ya; Rrrrr!

  I usually try to make my walks home as long as possible, especially when it's nice outside. I mean it's not like I don't want to get home and all, goodness knows I enjoy seeing Johnny and Momma, but it's sure nice being on my own.

  Sometimes I just like to walk home alone. Now some folks in a big city might think a seven year old walking home from school all alone is just trouble waiting to happen. But in Barnsdall, Oklahoma you're pretty safe at any age. With my Daddy being Chief of Police I feel extra safe. He wouldn't dare let anything happen to me; not that he watches me walk home or anything, just that he keeps our town safe ? ever'body knows that.

  Besides folks these days think nobody's safe. I guess the TV news keeps people all worried about every little thing that happens in America. As if their world is crumbling or something. Mr. Wheeler, my history teacher, just says it's "sensationalism", just over blowing things to sell their ideas so people will watch their exciting news show and then the sponsors will pay more for commercial time. I don't know 'bout that, but it sure does seem like people think everything is so fragile today.

  I'll bet a hundred years ago kids my age were walking home from school and such and nobody thought it was a big deal. Heck, I heard people were wedding at thirteen and fourteen back then. Surely they must have grown up pretty fast. Now-a-days it seems like folks think an eighteen year old is a child. Weird if you ask me. All I'm saying is the world isn't coming to an end just 'cause kids play outside when their young. It ain't like we're made out of fine china. And if someone did try to harm me I'd do just what my Daddy told me to do: I'd kick them square in the yarbles and run like the dickens screaming my head off "FIRE FIRE FIRE!". See Daddy says if you yell "help!" nobody comes, but you yell "FIRE! and everyone and their dog will come a runnin'; either to see the spectacle of the event or to put the fire out. I suppose he's got a point. Don't ya think?

  Yeah sometimes I like to walk home all alone in our safe little town, and when I get older and have kids I'll let them walk home too. I just don't think you can go through life being worried about ever' little thing. Kids need to be kids and not worry 'bout that stuff. Just 'cause TV says we should be afraid of strangers doesn't mean I have to be afraid. I'm like Daddy ? I ain't afraid of nothin'. Well except for my nightmares sometimes.

  Uh huh sometimes I like to walk home all alone, but most times I like to walk home with friends. Especially my bestest friend Heather. She's my buddy. We usually leave out from school at a full run. I'm real fast ya know and Heather's pretty fast too. We haven't ever really raced or anything but I'm bettin' we're about the same speed 'cause we manage to stay side by side as far as we go. That is until we tire out and decide to slow down and smell the roses.

  We like to skip part of the way home. It may seem silly to adults, but us kids find skippin' real fun! It just is, I don't know why; don't really care neither. Heather's a good skipper, she can sing and skip in time; that's pretty darn cool.

  Heather and I usually try to get away from the pack after school, but it usually doesn't work. For some reason we are nearly always tracked down by the boys. "Pests", that's what Heather often calls them. I don't mind them so much ? that is except for that smart-aleck David Spencer. He's that one that's always calling me "Chief O' Police Jessi" and punching me in the arm not too hard; like a wimp or somethin'. He's quite annoying really.

  When the boys track us down, Heather and I spend half our time ignoring and the other half laughing. Boys sure can be funny. You ignore them enough and they start acting out ? you know like showing off, trying to get attention. They're kinda like puppets; you pull the right strings and they react. I don't usually play those games as much as Heather though. She seems to get a real kick out of it.

  Like this one time when David tracked us down just across the street from the Post Office on the way home.

  "Hey David," Heather said while looking over her shoulder back at David. See he was nipping at our heels.

  "Yeah," David replied sounding happy just to be acknowledged.

  "You're lookin' kinda chicken today," said Heather with a devilish tone to her voice. She grinned at me.

  "What?" David sounded perplexed.

  "I bet you're too chicken to run over there to the Post Office and lower the flag." I couldn't help but giggle a little when Heather said this.

  "I ain't chicken! But why in the world would I want to do that?" David was confused. If you ask me, I think David's usually confused.

  This is normally where Heather gets really good at manipulating boys. She doesn't just answer the simple question of why; but instead pokes a little fun, pulls his puppet strings a bit.

  "Oh never mind David." Heather sounded put out. She then turned to me and said loudly while laughin' a little: "he probably doesn't even know how to lower a flag on a flag pole".

  That was all the pushing it took. David, as usual, took the bait ? hook, line and sinker as Daddy says.

  "I do so," David yelped like a pup.

  "Sure David," said Heather very sarcastically.

  "Yeah ? sure David," I chimed in with a little help to Heather's cause. Not that she ever needs any help in these kinds of matters. She's real good at 'em.

  "I do so know how to lower a flag, I do so!" David sounded like he might cry.

  I know it's a bit mean, but it's funny he'd get so worked up about whether or not he can lower a flag.

  Heather leaned over and whispered in my ear: "The Jedi mind tricks work well on the weak mind." I burst out laughing. This only upset poor David further.

  Heather's got her tricks down solid. She knows no boy likes it when the girls whisper in front of them in each others ears and then laugh. The boys think we're making fun of them. They can't know that for sure ? but they're right.

  "Oh just forget it." Reverse psychology is what they call Heather's next ploy.

  "No, no I sure can lower that flag." David sounded very prideful as he pointed to the flag across the street.

  Prides one of those seven deadly sins ya know. Momma says it never helps ? it only hurts. Oh, that and that when you swallow your pride it sometimes feels like tryin' to swallow a basketball; just gets lodged about half way down and bothers ya for a long time. I think I know what she means. r />
  Just then Heather spun around and faced David, saying very boldly: "Prove it."

  "I can do it," replied David kinda mad.

  "So you say," replied Heather, now with her hands on her hips.

  "I can."

  "PPPrrrooove it!" said Heather with a smile in her voice.

  "I will," said David turning toward the flag pole.

  "Good," said heather smiling at me now.

  A few seconds past as David appeared to be visually assessing the task ahead of him.

  "Well get on with it then," Heather goaded.

  "Ok," mumbled David, and off he went across the street. He kinda scurried.

  Heather just grabbed my arm and started pulling me down the street, away from David. I didn't really get what she was doing until she said: "He'll be busy for quite a while ? see I tied about fifty knots in the flag pole rope on the way to school this morning ? he's so sure he can lower that flag he'll probably still be there come tomorrow morning tryin' to prove it ? now let's walk home without that pesky boy." She started skipping and I started laughing.

  Sure it was a little cruel a-doin' David that a-way, but ? well kids'll be kids right?

  So Heather and I enjoyed our nice stroll home, talkin' 'bout girl stuff; which is hard to do with those darn boys around. It's nice to spend time with Heather; she can be a lot of fun. She lives just around the corner from me so we walk together a lot actually.

  Dropping Heather off at her house I usually sprint home the block or so that's left. Waiting for me are bunch of happy folks. Johnny and my doggy Hank and of course Momma are there to welcome me. It's quite the scene with Johnny yellin': "home from pool" or something to the like. Also, Hank is jumpin' up and down and runnin' around in circles, going round and round we call it, and waggin' his tail about ninety to nothing. Momma's just calm and sweet asking me about me day and patting me on the head saying stuff like: "you hungry Jessica" or "how'd your tests go" or "so good to have you home". She's quite the good Momma.

  Yeah my walks home are fun and getting home is fun too. Momma makes our family life real good.

  Momma says we were blessed and I have to agree; which made the events that happened a little later on even harder to swallow.

  The Bar Fight

  As I overheard Mr. Nielsen telling Mr. Tolver outside of the Barnsdall Market

  Yeah I guess ole' John was woke up not even an hour after puttin' his head to the pillow. It must be somethin' to be on call 24/7. Must really suck.

  Katherine heard John say into the phone: "Yeah, Ok ? is that so ? ok I'm on my way ? I said I'm on my way!" and then he slammed the phone down. He got up and, not quickly really but quite deliberately, dawned his Chief of Police uniform and gun belt.

  Noticing Katherine was awake and watchin' him he said softly: "Sounds like there's a scuffle down at the bar ? gonna go straighten things out." And with that John left the bedroom only stopping in the kitchen for a moment to decide if he should make some coffee or just head out. He decided against the coffee due to time constraints. He did not appreciate those constraints or being woke up in the middle of night. He's on call most of the time, but it's a rare occasion when he actually does get called. John Long makes it clear to everyone in Barnsdall that he don't like being called out at night ? not one damn bit.

  John opened the door to his police cruiser and took a deep breath as he ducked down his large six foot six frame into the front seat. Behind the wheel John decided quickly to not run hot, figuring lights and/or sirens would not be necessary this time of night. Hell he'd probably make the whole drive to the bar without even seeing a car anyways. This ain't New York City he thought.

  Pulling out of the gravel driveway next to his double wide trailer he saw his bedroom light was on and he thought: Katherine must've gotten up. Damn shame she had to be disturbed by that phone call. There better be a good reason why I'm headin' down to the bar. If not somebody's gonna pay for my wife being disturbed late at night; hell and me too.

  John drove with the windows down trying to let the night air wake him up a bit. A good police officer wouldn't go into a potentially violent situation groggy. You need to be clear headed, on your toes, ready for anything that may come your way. Even in a small town anything can happen. Chief of Police John Long knows that. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head back and forth to force some clarity.

  As John passed Second Street headin' up to Main he began to think about how many beers he drank last night. A last night that actually only ended for him about an hour ago. He knows he can handle his liquor, but didn't want to find out if others could, so he popped three pieces of cinnamon candy in his mouth a puffed a breath into his hand to see if he could smell the alcohol on his own breath. His experience with DUI's told him most folks that are drinkin' can't smell the true strength of the odor of alcohol on themselves. Big John figured he could get away with a bit more than the average Joe though. One of the few perks of being Chief of Police; drinkin' and drivin' doesn't turn into a night in jail.

  About a half a block from Zelma's Bar John slowed his police car to a crawl and spit the candy out the window. He wanted to assess the situation from a distance before tackling what ever lied before him. What John saw didn't surprise him much. A few cars sittin' out front, the front door of the bar was open and there were several folks peering inside while several other folks were movin' 'round frantically and screaming various cuss words (mostly women by the way). In between the cuss words they were yelling something 'bout "somebody otta kick his ass", or "we need some help here", or "why doesn't somebody stop this", or "this whole thing is harshin' my buzz". You know crap like that.

  Ole' John could hear the yellin' from down the block, but he really couldn't make out the words until he pulled up in front. That's when Mary Jacobs came running up to his driver's side window yelping 'bout: "Jesus where you been John, we needed you for a while now? You need to get in there and straighten things out." She looked a little upset, but more interested really. That girl'd hang around for a fight anytime. Hell for all John new she was the one that started it.

  "Thanks for the tip Mary, but I'll take things in a bit before I decide who or what to straighten," John said as he leaned back in the driver's seat and took out a pinch of snuff.

  "Hell John, you just gonna sit there," said Mike Wagoner as he stepped up beside Mary.

  "Back away from the vehicle Mike," said John in a low growl. "I don't need your stupid drunk ass interfering with my duties ? got it."

  "Alright John, I's just saying that ??" Mike's voice trailed off as he turned and walked away from the police car. He knew not to mess with Big John; especially when his sleep had been interrupted. Hell or anytime for that matter.

  Mary took that as a signal that she otta probably remove herself from the situation too, so she sorta staggered off over by her own car; but within good eye view of the front door of the bar. She wouldn't wanta miss anything ya know.

  John opened the car door and eased himself out onto the ground. He stood tall and stretched for a moment. His slow and easy movements exuded confidence. Confidence in his ability to remedy what ever situation lived in that bar and/or the confidence to lick any man in there if necessary.

  "You gonna stop this shit John?" said Tammi Walker as John slowly strolled past her.

  John just spit a dark line of snuff into the grass as he stepped over the curb and said: "we'll see".

  Tammi took that as a yes and replied: "Good, the Calvary will be coming directly." Several people giggled around her.

  John just kept walking; straight faced. As he approached the front door of Zelma's he could hear a commotion. John didn't appear to be worried though.

  Walking into Zelma's John immediately glanced at Ralph, Zelma's husband, tending behind the bar. Ralph gave a matter of fact look at John and a nod of his head in the general direction of the pool tables.

  John saw a group of folks standing aroun
d the dance floor, which is just past the pool tables. They were in a circle. Some were cheering and a couple of girls were cryin'. John slowly approached the small crowd anticipating what he would see in the middle of that circle of drunkin' bar patrons.

  Ole' John was right at his first thought. Two fellas were rollin' around on the ground fightin' ? or maybe more wrastlin' really.

  "Clear a path yelled John loudly," taking charge of the situation both in tone and posture; he frightened several of the onlookers that had their backs to him; not seeing him approach. They quickly jumped to the side. That was a good thing 'cause Big John was comin' through now at a pretty good clip.

  John grabbed the one ole' boy, that was on top, up by the nap of the neck. I think his name is Chad something or another. John held onto him while he reached down and grabbed the other guy just above his right elbow, swinging him up to his feet.

  Chad came to his senses quickly and allowed, but then again it's not like he could have stopped him really, John to push him up against the wall without a struggle. But while John was focusing on Chad, the other fella (believe his name's Tommy King) gave a strong chop to Big John's wrist; breaking his hold. When this happened John leaned forward a bit toward Chad and said: "stay put". He said this so calmly Chad really didn't know if he was being told or asked. Chad decided simply to say: "yes sir"; a good decision.

  John turned around to face Tommy.

  Now while Tommy isn't much of a wrastler (remember Chad was the one on top when Big John entered the picture), apparently he has some kinda belt in Karate. You know like a brown or black or somethin'. A prideful (and youthful) man, Tommy isn't one to turn the other cheek. He likes to think of himself as the toughest guy around, and he often starts fights to prove it. Undefeated is what I heard he is. But then pickin' on drunks in bars is a pretty easy way to stay that way.

  "Come on you son of a bitch; you think you're so tough," said Tommy as he took two steps back and began bouncing up and down in his Karate stance.

  "Boy, you best listen and listen good ? get your ass against that wall ? right now." John didn't really sound mad or anything, but he sure did sound like he meant his words. Tommy continued to bounce up and down and now flashed a big smile that said come on old man. John recognized it well.

  Chief of Police John Long's size normally scares folks off from pickin' a fight with him. That's a good thing for a lawman really, you know being able to avoid the violence when ya can. But in this case the size discrepancy was minute. Tommy stands ? oh I'd say just a couple of inches shorter than Big John, but he's got a good thirty pounds on John.

  "Oh you'd probably just shoot me if I started gettin' the best of ya," said Tommy with a laugh. "Big man with a badge and a gun."

  "Boy don't push me, I'm in no mood," replied John with a funny smirk on his face. It was almost as if he was drawing Tommy in with his sarcasm. Setting ole' Tommy up or somethin'. Like saying, no-no let's not go this direction, but really meaning somethin' else. I guess I'm saying John looked like he was ready and willing to fight. No more than that, he looked like he really wanted to.

  "You walk around this town all tough actin' just 'cause you know no one will challenge you with that gun and badge on," said Tommy as he looked around the room. He seemed to be soliciting some support from the crowd. He got it as someone far in the back, well out of John's sight, yelled out: "Yeah, that's right ? kick his ass Tommy!"

  "You're under arrest," said John in a low growl. He spoke very slowly ? calmly. "Up against the wall."

  "That's what I thought, I thought you'd ?." Tommy didn't finish his sentence before Big John put his tough reputation into action.

  Tommy's blood ran cold when John reached up and snatched the badge off of his shirt, then took his gun belt off and handed it to Ralph, who'd managed to work his way to the front of the crowd to watch the events. Ralph was about the only sober person in the bar and definitely the only person John Long trusted to hand his gun over to. John and Ralph's known each other for years; they do a lot of fishin' and huntin' together ya know.

  John didn't say a word he just handed his gun belt to Ralph and took a slow step towards Tommy. He didn't assume any kind of fightin' stance or nothin'. No, John just looked like he was taking a Sunday stroll.

  "Ok ? O ? Ok ? here we go," said Tommy kind of lookin' around the room. He didn't seem so cock sure of himself now. It's fair to say he thought Big John would stick to the book and just keep talkin' him down like most policemen do. Tommy had picked a lot of fights; gotten pretty good at it too. You know picking a fight with someone who would cower and back down, or that he could quickly whip. But he had definitely miss calculated the situation this time.

  John didn't raise his hands or nothin'. Instead, he just stood there staring at Tommy. He looked like a Lion stalking its prey. The room fell silent.

  Now I don't know if it was fear or beer or what, but Tommy couldn't have telegraphed a punch better if he'd planned it out a week in advance. A slow round house right is what it was ? with not much on it.

  But what was stranger than the odd looking girly punch, was that John Long didn't move a muscle. Hell he didn't even blink. He let Tommy hit him right on the jaw. Now even though it wasn't a very hard punch; you know even a slap makes quite a sound. From the sound of it most men would've been flat on their backs. But it was more bark than bite. That is at least on ole' Big John Long's square jaw.

  John kept his body fully erect, only swiveling his head on his shoulders a little. You know kinda movin' with the punch. He just kept glaring at Tommy King and then he spit a dark line of snuff onto the floor. Some folks in the audience thought it was blood (they said stuff like, get 'im again Tommy ? quick) but it wasn't ? just snuff. See John long knows how to take a punch ? you've got to move with it, not against it.

  Now John let an evil grin run across his face and he said: "alright then", taking two quick half steps forward.

  The crowd let out a big gasp and Tommy didn't really have the time to do much of anything. Big John moved exceptionally fast; especially for a large man.

  It's the Einstein theory ya know? E=MC2. That is Energy = Mass x the Speed of Light squared (in a vacuum that is). Or put another way: Force = Mass x Velocity. I like the first way of thinkin' though really, 'cause that's what John moved like; the speed of light ? squared. And Lord knows Big John's got the mass thing covered. Hell Tommy didn't even know what hit him.

  John let loose a left hook from hell and caught Tommy square on the chin ? he was out cold, but still on his feet. John kept him there with an uppercut that landed more on the throat than the chin. He then followed up with a right cross and then a double left hook, one to the head and one to the body. That last left hook was a downward punch to the kidney and killed two birds with one stone. It left no doubt that Tommy would be pissin' blood for a week and also forced his body into the ground so hard that he wouldn't be getting up for a lot longer than that.

  Tommy didn't verbalize a sound. The only sound that filled the room was a whacking noise, kind of like the sound a boxer's heavy bag would make if you hit it with a baseball bat ? a full swing with that bat too. That's the power of John's fists all right. It was somethin' to see ? but it made ya want to look away I'll tell ya.

  The whole crowd took a full step back as blood began to run over the dance floor. Some of the girls were saying something about an ambulance and the guys all looked pasty faced. A guy near the back said to his friend: "that's the worst beatin' I've ever seen a fella take". He hadn't seen the half of it ... literally.

  With a slow look around the room, and a glare in his eye (more looking through the crowd than at them), John turned back to Tommy lying in a pile on the floor. Again as quick as lightnin' John was at work. He was puttin' the boots to him ? hard ? real hard ? too hard. For a lawman John seemed to be more than crossin' over that thin red line. Hell he'd run passed it and didn't look back.


  You could hear the ribs crackin' and the air goin' out of poor Tommy King's lungs. "Someone stop him," came from the back of the room. "Call that Ambulance," said another. Several of the folks filed out quickly. Somebody threw up just outside the front door of Zelma's Bar. But John just kept on kickin'. He didn't seem to be impacted at all by the level of violence and damage he was inflicting.

  Ralph said: "John ? John ? now friend ? that'll do ? you've made your point." Indeed John had made his point; quite an impact on the crowd. If he was trying to let folks know that you don't mess with Chief of Police John Long (badge, gun or not), then he succeeded fantastically.

  With one last kick John made sure Tommy wouldn't be talkin' back for a while. He'd be clamped up good and tight. Wired up really; with a broken jaw and virtually no teeth remaining.

  John then slowly, and calmly, turned around and retrieved his gun belt and badge from Ralph. He wasn't even breathing much.

  "If that ambulance is on its way then I'll be headin' home to bed then," John said as he synched up his gun belt. The bar was starting to empty by this time.

  "K," said Ralph looking at the front door of the bar; trying his damnedest not to notice the beaten and broken man lying on the floor just a few feet from him. With his peripheral vision he saw John grab a napkin off a table and (as he propped his right foot up on a chair) wipe the blood off his boot. Ralph thought about what a horrible mess this was. He felt sick and looked like he'd been painted with white wash. Ralph's a tough guy, but that's how brutal the scene was.

  "I'll fill out the paperwork tomorrow," said Big John as he softly patted his friend Ralph on the back.

  "Sounds like a plan," responded Ralph in a squeaky voice.

  "You have a good night now buddy." With that John slowly made his way to the front door. He walked like a man coming out of an all you can eat buffet ? you know full and content and in no hurry. It was an odd thing to watch after the events that had just taken place.

  Just as John reached the front door he quickly turned around and said loudly to the bar room; of what folks was left in the bar room anyway: "I'm sure all the witnesses saw me arrest him, then he hit me and I did my duty ? right? John waited a long moment and watched as folks looked at the floor nodded their heads.

  "Right Ralph?" John spoke a little louder this time.

  "That's what I seen John." Ralph sounded like a beaten man.

  "Good ? goodnight then." John disappeared out the front door.

  As John walked to his police car Dusty Brazel asked him if he really had to put such a beatin' on Tommy.

  "Just doin' my duty," replied John with smile. "If you wanta file a complaint I'm sure there are plenty of witnesses that'll see things my way. John poked Dusty real hard in the chest with his middle and index fingers. Probably put quite the bruise on him. Dusty clammed up after that.

  Somebody yelled from across the street: "We support ya John ? Big John don't start fights ? he finishes 'em!"

  "That's right, said John in a smug tone. He climbed in his cruiser.

  John drove home quite slowly; thinkin' to himself ? about himself. He felt good, having no concerns about what he had just done. He wondered if Tommy might die from that beating. Not that he cared really, he was more concerned about how much more paperwork there would be if he did though.

  John thought about the law, about enforcement, about punishment, about the courts. He felt he had exacted justice. Tommy deserved a beatin' and he got it. He asked for it, he started it, he wanted it really. Careful what you ask for, thought John.

  As he pulled into his gravel driveway John saw his bedroom light was still on. Katherine was up waiting for him. He felt good about that, but it only reinforced his actions against Tommy King. That fella had disturbed John's sleep, had disturbed his wife. Tommy deserved what he got.

  To add insult to injury John was going to charge Tommy with a long list of offenses, including: public drunkenness, assault and battery on Chad, resisting arrest, battery on a police officer and whole host of other crimes. Once Tommy was out of the hospital he'd be on to jail for sure. Hell, Chief of Police John Long probably charged him with loitering for lying unconscious on Zelma's dance floor after catchin' that beating from him.

  It was quite a night thought John. Good for law enforcement, good for his reputation, good in the fight against wrong doers, and great for the town of Barnsdall knowin' law and order will be kept. Bad for Tommy King ? oh well, thought John as his head hit the pillow.

  A (former) Good Friend

  Mondays aren't normally my favorite days. But this Monday I had high hopes for a good day. I was in a great mood and breakfast tasted extra special. Daddy seemed like he was in quite the good mood this morning as well.

  I didn't even mind Momma insisting she drive me to school. Well, not too much anyways. Johnny gave me a kiss goodbye and I was stepping lively toward a group of friends I saw standing just outside the front door of the schoolhouse.

  Momma had driven off and I was almost to my friends when someone pushed me hard from behind and jerked my book bag off my shoulder. The push startled me really, but not as much as the startle I got when I turned around and found out who did it.

  Melissa, one of my good friends was standing there with fire in her eyes holding my book bag. She kind of swung it at me; although I don't think she was trying to hit me really. I stepped back to avoid the bag and was able to not get hit. Now with the space between us Melissa had the time to take a couple of steps towards the trash can beside the front door of the schoolhouse and drop my book bag right in. Yep, she just dropped my book bag right in the nasty trash before I could stop her.

  "What'd you do that for Melissa," I asked in utter confusion.

  "What comes around goes around," she said looking very angry ? almost about to cry with anger really.

  "Melissa, what are you talkin' about?"

  "You know exactly what I'm talking about," said Melissa with clenched fists and stomping a foot to the ground.

  I of course didn't know what she was talking about, so I thought about it as I started to get my book bag out of the trash can. But ? Melissa was having none of it; she shoved me to keep me from it.

  "What are you doing Melissa," I was trying to stay calm, but she was being unreasonable.

  "You know what I'm doing," Melissa replied as a crowd started to gather around. One of those pesky boys yelled out: "girl fight!" That only brought more kids around.

  "Ok Melissa, what's up? I have no idea what you're talkin' about."

  "Yes you do!"

  "No ? I don't. Why don't you just tell me?" I was getting kinda annoyed now.

  "Your Dad!" Melissa yelped.

  "What about my Daddy?"

  "He's mean and he's not fair."

  "What are you talking about?" I was really getting annoyed now for sure. I mean talkin' bad about someone's Ma or Pa is a real no-no around these parts ya know.

  "Your damn Daddy beat up my Daddy's brother at the bar Saturday night. Yeah that's right the Chief of Police is supposed to help folks, not beat them up. He might even die, well that's what they thought at first, but he'll make it now. He's real bad hurt though ? real bad." Melissa started to cry and then got mad again stomping her foot.

  "I didn't hear that ? what happened?" I really hadn't heard about it yet. Kinda surprised me Daddy wouldn't say somethin' about it at the dinner table ? or breakfast table.

  "Sure Jessi ? sure ? I just bet you don't know nothin' about it!" Melissa screamed and shoved me again ? real hard.

  "Look Melissa, I know you're upset but you don't push me again!" I was gettin' fightin' mad myself now.

  "Oh, it's OK for Chief of Police John Long to push people around, but that's too good for his little Princess Jessi?" Melissa was staring right at me.

  I decided to just remain silent for a minute to see if Melissa would start explaining what she was talkin' about. She did.

&nbs
p; "Apparently this Chad guy was smarting off to my Uncle Tommy at the bar Saturday night ? he was real rude and all. Anyway, Uncle Tommy and this Chad guy ended up in a fight. Apparently Uncle Tommy was beatin' him up real good, so one of Chad's friends called the cops." Melissa was at least trying to explain herself now, but she was still pretty upset.

  I just stood and listened; along with the crowd that had gathered to watch the ruckus. I was later to find out, when I overheard Mr. Nielsen outside the Barnsdall Market tell the story with many different facts, that Melissa had most of the story dead wrong. That is if any of the stories I've heard are really true? Who knows what's true after a story's been told a couple of times by different folks? The stories always seem to get skewed after a while. Don't they?

  Melissa continued: "I guess your Daddy was on call or somethin' because the dispatcher apparently called the meanest cop in town to the bar. He's mean and unfair I tell ya!" Melissa looked around at the crowd for a minute while she tried to compose herself.

  I wanted to tell her to shut up and stop saying bad things 'bout my Daddy, but I thought it best to just listen for now. So I did.

  "He came in the bar all bowed up and ready to hurt somebody. That's what everybody said! Our Chief of Police wasn't lookin' to help; he was lookin' to hurt somebody. He's like that I hear. Well apparently he must be buddies with this Chad guy 'cause he pulled my Uncle Tommy off of Chad and put his gun to my Uncle's head. Then ? get this ? he just let Chad go. Like he wasn't at fault at all ? with his big mouth and all ? he just let him go. I heard that Chad guy ran out cryin' from the lickin' Uncle Tommy gave him." Melissa looked proud at this point of her tale.

  "Then your Daddy ? our Chief of Police started hittin' my Uncle Tommy in the head with his gun. I'm sure my Uncle Tommy woulda licked him good if he didn't have that gun ya know. My Uncle's real tough just like my Daddy. He'd a really put the hurt on Chief of Police John Long if he didn't have that gun. That's for sure." Melissa was getting revved up again, talking in a real high pitched voice.

  Now I didn't truly think Melissa's Uncle Tommy could lick my Daddy ? but that was beside the point.

  "Yeah my Uncle Tommy had no choice but to not fight back; or that mean John Long would shoot him. So Uncle Tommy got beat up real bad. In fact your Daddy kicked at him a whole bunch too."

  Melissa stepped towards me real fast as she said this. I kinda thought she was gonna hit me, but she didn't.

  Now Melissa got most of the story wrong ? at least as compared to Mr. Nielsen's story I found out about later. But she sure got one thing right ? Uncle Tommy did get "beat up real bad".

  Melissa stopped talkin' now and just stood there with tears in her eyes and her fists clenched up. I thought it was time for me to say something.

  "Melissa, I'm sorry about your Uncle Tommy," I said with sincerity. I really meant it too ? really."

  "Oh sure you are Jessi ? you will be," Melissa's face was turning red. Well, redder than it already was actually.

  "My Daddy wouldn't mean no harm and I'm sure ?," I didn't get to finish.

  "Didn't mean no harm! Are you kidding me?"

  "What I'm trying to say is ?," interrupted again.

  "Your Daddy's just mean ? just plain mean!"

  "Now wait just a minute Melissa I ?"

  "No it's not just mean," Melissa interrupted again. "He's a coward; can't fight like a man, that's what my Daddy says. No, Big John Long has to hide behind a gun and a badge. He hast to beat a man at gun point rather than at a fair fight. At a fair fight he wouldn'ta stood a chance against my Uncle Tommy!" Melissa was fuming.

  Now at this point in the conversation ? or argument I suppose is a better term for what we were doin' ? I still had some hope to talk things out. I hoped I could get Melissa to listen to reason. I had my doubts, but tried anyways.

  "Listen Melissa," I made sure my voice was calm so she might relax herself; don't think it worked though. "Melissa, I'm sure my Daddy was just doing his job. Maybe some of the story you heard is ? well blown up a bit?" On occasion common sense and logic works with folks ? it was worth a shot right? No dice.

  "Blown up a bit! Are you saying I'm blind? That I didn't see my Uncle Tommy lying in that hospital bed over in Bartlesville with his jaw wired shut and all those tubes runnin' out of him? Is that what you're saying?"

  To be honest ? Melissa had a point there. Don't ya think? I just remained silent to let Melissa get it all out.

  "Or are you callin' my Daddy a liar. Saying the story he told me wasn't true? And I guess all the other folks in town that are talkin' 'bout the same story are liar's too? So my Daddy's a liar huh?" Melissa was being terrifically unreasonable.

  "Melissa you know I'm not ?" interrupted again.

  "It's your Daddy that's the liar 'round these parts. He puts on that badge and drives around in his little police car that says "To Protect and Serve" on the side, but he has no intention of doing that at all. No he's the liar. He says he upholds the law, but he really is the worst at breaking it. He's scum and so are you!" Melissa's voice was loud and squeaky.

  Just as a side note. My Daddy's police car doesn't have "To Protect and Serve" written anywhere on it. Melissa must have seen that on TV or somethin'?

  "Melissa you stop sayin' bad things about my Daddy ? I'm not saying your Daddy or anyone else is a liar, I'm just saying stories get blown up some times. You should consider that some of what you heard may not be true, that's all." I think I looked calm when I said this but I was starting to rage on the inside. Melissa's a friend and all but I was gettin' real peeved about her saying those mean things about Daddy.

  This little argument went on this way a bit longer and the result was simple. I simply couldn't get Melissa to listen to reason. Couldn't get her to care about what might be the truth. I suppose when you see someone you love lying in a hospital bed all busted up you just can't see straight. You want revenge. Momma calls it "an eye for an eye". But Momma also says its wrath; and one of them seven deadly sins. A real dangerous one too.

  All I know is Melissa was beyond talk. She was on a path of destruction. She was going to have somebody pay for what happened to her Uncle Tommy, and it appeared that someone was me; and not just my book bag neither.

  Now before I even knew what was happenin' Melissa had stepped back a bit and then, real fast mind you, she took a swing at me. Well it wasn't really a swing, you know like a punch or anything. No it was more like a slap. Yeah that's all it really was ? a slap. But still, it was aimed directly at my face.

  Everything I did was instinct, and it's only after the fact that I can collect my thoughts to write this down, 'cause at the time there wasn't much thought to it at all. I just ducked and let Melissa's hand sore over my head. I didn't move much, and I sure didn't try to hit her back or even push her. Really I didn't.

  Regardless of how I did nothin' to Melissa she still hit the ground ? hard. See she simply missed her slap and I guess her momentum caused her to go off balance and she tripped. Tripped and fell is what she did.

  "Melissa! You OK?" It was kind of amazing how quick I'd forgotten that Melissa had tried to strike me. It was because she looked so sad down there on the ground. She just looked so weak and ? beaten down. That's the only way I can describe it.

  Melissa stayed down for what seemed like a long time. She leaned back on her knees and looked at her open hands. She had skinned both of her palms pretty bad trying to catch herself as she fell. Now that I think about it, she's lucky she didn't break her wrists 'cause she hit the ground that hard.

  "Oh shut up Jessi ? just leave me be; I'm fine," Melissa had such sorrow in her voice.

  "Gosh Melissa ? I thought we were friends," I said with all sincerity.

  "Well we ain't friends no more ? no more!" Melissa slowly got up and brushed herself off, leaving little lines of blood, from her skinned palms, on the front of her shirt. She then ran off crying; leaving me standi
ng there with everyone watching me.

  I took a few minutes to gather myself. I just stood there in the same spot as the crowd that had gathered, to see the would be fight, began to thin out. I kept wondering what had just happened.

  Momma's told me about how sometimes you lose friends as you're growin' up. Sometimes friends grow apart, or move, or die; but she never told me you could lose a friend like this. It was so sudden. I mean death would be sudden too, but that's different. No this was worse than death. At least with death or moving you still feel like you parted as friends. This was just awful. No Momma didn't prepare me for this; I just felt like poop.

  As sad as I was there was learnin' to be done. I didn't want to be late for class so I made my way over to the trash can to retrieve my book bag. It was there in the trash, but not as I'd hoped. The weight of the bag had sorta dug it down in the trash; with several unsavory items all around it ? and worse ? on top of it.

  I bit the bullet and just dug my hand down in there and pulled my bag out lickety split. I could tell it was gonna be a great day when I looked and saw there was a piece of nasty gum and some other smelly substance all over my book bag. Even a used tissue, yuck!

  Why?

  "Why Daddy," I asked as Daddy took another swig of his beer. We weren't far into dinner before that nagging question jumped off my tongue.

  "Why what honey?" Daddy didn't look at me he just plunged his fork deep into his meatloaf.

  Did I mention it was meatloaf night? Momma makes the best meatloaf. Sometimes I think once a week's not enough.

  "Why'd you have to beat up Melissa's Daddy's brother; you know in a fight?" He may not have been lookin' at me but I sure was at him.

  "What's that," Daddy mumbled with a full mouth. He looked at Momma as if to say: "help me out here ? I don't want to have to explain myself". Momma just shrugged her shoulders, appearing not to want to get involved.

  "Daddy 'ight! Daddy fight! Fight! Fight!!! At least Johnny was not willing to stick his head in the sand.

  "Daddy, Melissa says you hurt her Uncle Tommy real bad last Saturday night; you know at the bar. Why'd ya do that?" I tried to stay calm but have to admit I felt my face flush a bit. Just thinking back to how upset Melissa was ? well it upset me too.

  "I'm sorry Jessi ? uh Jessica ? come again," Daddy replied as he put a big helping of greens in his mouth.

  "John ? you didn't tell me you got in a fight," said Momma with a confused look on her face. Momma and I just waited for Daddy to reply. First he had to wash down his mouthful with a big gulp of beer though.

  "Well now Katherine, I wouldn't really call it a fight," said Daddy with no expression on his face.

  "What would you call it then," asked Momma? Daddy looked over at me and then back at Momma.

  "I'm sure glad ya'll are so concerned 'bout my welfare, but I can take care of myself," he said with a sheepish grin.

  "Why'd ya do it Daddy," I asked with some desperation in my voice? I could even tell it.

  "John ? why don't you tell us what happened," asked Momma as she sat her fork down?

  Daddy situated himself in his chair and started: "Well I'ze just doing my duty ya know. I mean it ain't like I was lookin' for trouble. I was the one called out in the middle of the damned night to break up a bar fight." Daddy said this so matter of fact like that he kinda made me mad.

  "Why'd you have to hurt my friends Uncle ? why Daddy?"

  Momma reached over and put her hand on top of mine, saying: "Jessica, I'm sure Daddy didn't even know the fella was your friend's Uncle. Did you John?"

  "Nope," Daddy replied as if the conversation meant nothing to him.

  "Well then why'd you have to beat up anybody," I asked hoping to hear some compassion come back.

  "Look Jessica ? I didn't plan anything or ask for anything. All the doin' was done by the drunks down there at the bar. They started fightin' and the law had to put a stop to it; simple as that."

  "Well John, why don't you walk us through what took place so Jessica can understand?" asked Momma just trying to help me out with some of Daddy's stubbornness.

  "Now Katherine, I'm not sure the details are fit for a seven year olds ears." I think Daddy was just trying to get out of telling me what really happened.

  "Well John, just keep the story clean and to the point. Jessica just wants to know why it happened. She doesn't need to hear a blow by blow account. Right Jessica?" Momma turned to me with a smile.

  "That's right Momma."

  Daddy decided to come clean ? or at least tell his story: "Well I was called out in the middle of the night ? down to Zelma's Bar ? apparently there was a fight". Daddy was talkin' to me, I think, but he was looking at Johnny, who was sleepin' in his high chair.

  I wouldn't exactly say I was on the edge of my seat, but I was sure paying close attention. I felt a little nauseous. I just hoped Melissa's story wasn't true, but was worried Daddy might have actually done what she said. Surely not?

  "By the time I got down to the bar the fight had apparently escalated into a knock down brawl. Or deteriorated into a wrastlin' match ? couldn't really tell." Daddy laughed a little, I think he was trying to be funny.

  Momma and I glanced at each other and Daddy got another beer from the frig.

  "Anyway, this one ole' boy in the fight, turns out his name's Tommy somethin' or another. Well he decided to puff all up and take a swing at "Big John". He should a known better than to mess with me ? I guess he knows now." Daddy seemed so pleased with himself as he took another swig of beer. I just felt ill.

  "John." Even Momma could sense the pride in Daddy's voice. Pride in what he'd done.

  "Swung on you?" I really wanted to know what Daddy meant by this; what really happened. Did Melissa's Uncle Tommy start it or did Daddy.

  "Hmm?" Daddy looked confused.

  "Did he hit you first ? before you hit him with your gun?" I was just assuming Melissa was right about the gun thing.

  "Yeah honey ? he hit me first. But what's this about my gun?"

  "Well I heard you hit him with your gun."

  "Where'd ya hear that?" Daddy rolled his eyes as he took a long pull from his beer.

  "Melissa told me about it." From the way Daddy looked, the gun beatin' seemed to be true.

  "Oh I see," said Daddy as he got up from the dinner table and walked over to the kitchen sink. He opened the cabinet over the sink; pulled out a small glass and a bottle of whiskey.

  "John ? I'm not sure we're done here," said Momma in a polite tone. She sounded more like she was asking a question than telling Daddy not to run off.

  "I know Katherine ? I know," said Daddy as he poured his glass full. "One sec." Daddy gulped the glass down and then sipped his beer.

  As I watched Daddy return the whiskey bottle to the cabinet I found myself feeling very impatient. I had to bite my tongue to stop from saying hurry up!

  Daddy, finally, took his seat back at the table. Momma watched him closely and Johnny just kept on sleepin'.

  I couldn't help it. I was so impatient at this point that I blurted out: "Well!"

  "Jessica, watch your tone when speaking to your Father." It was a fairly firm scolding, and I suppose it was well deserved.

  "Yes Momma," I looked at the floor as I said this.

  "So do you believe Melissa; that I'd need a gun to take care of that Tommy fella?" Daddy seemed insulted at the thought that he would need a gun; that is more than his fists, I guess.

  "Well I don't want to believe you'd hit Melissa's Uncle with your gun." I truly didn't want to believe it, but at this point Daddy wasn't doing much to convince me otherwise.

  "Hmm," replied Daddy as he resumed eating his dinner. I think he was trying to make me wait. I don't know why though.

  "John, did you hit the guy with your gun? Isn't that called pistol whip?"

  "Yes ? its called pistol whipped," Daddy mumbled with a full mouth.

  "Well did y
ou do it," asked Momma? I was glad she was helpin' me out with the questions now.

  Daddy paused a long moment as he finished his meatloaf off. It was as if he was trying to be difficult. You know making us wait and all, and not answering questions easily.

  "No." Daddy replied firmly.

  "You didn't," I asked?

  "I said I didn't and I don't think goin' into greater detail would be appropriate." Daddy's voice was a bit louder now. He looked at Momma.

  "I suppose your Daddy's right Jessica." Momma wasn't being too helpful now.

  "But Momma ?" I guess I kind of whined.

  "No now Jessica, your Father answered your question honestly. He said he didn't hit your friend's Uncle with his gun, and that the other guy started the fight."

  "Wasn't a fight," Daddy said under his breath. "It was an arrest."

  "See Jessica, Daddy was just doin' his job. He had to arrest the fella and the guy was mean and hit your Daddy. He just did his duty. Right John?" Momma really seemed to want this to be the truth.

  "That's right," replied Daddy as he got up from the table. He ruffled my hair and walked out the back door; think he headed out to his work shed. He just left us sittin' there at the table. It seemed so rude! I still had questions. I still wanted to know why he beat up Melissa's Uncle Tommy; gun or not.

  Daddy's explanation was ? well not one at all. His whole demeanor was rude. It was like what I was asking meant nothing to him. Like my concern meant nothing to him. I was very disappointed.

  As usual I helped Momma clear the table, and Johnny helped by holding his highchair to the floor as he slept. Momma seemed in OK spirits but I was not. It was all I could do to keep from complaining to Momma about Daddy's crass behavior.

  That's another one of my spelling words by the way; c-r-a-s-s ? crass. I can't help but notice that the word has ass in it. So someone acting crass is sure an ass! Get it?

  Anyways, Momma and I finished up the dishes and I quickly went off to bed. I think Momma could tell I was upset, but I tried not to let on. She kept trying to spark up everyday conversations about how nice the weather had been or little funny things Johnny had been doin' or sayin'; but it didn't help my mood.

  Once I was in my bed with the lights out I couldn't help but rerun the whole problem in my head; over and over again. From Melissa shoving me and dropping my book bag in the trash, to seeing her so sad down on the ground with her skinned up hands; it was really causing me pain. Even greater pain was how Daddy just blew off the whole thing. Like it meant nothing to him ? I mean really! Doesn't he have a conscience?

  After wasting away better than a half hour mulling over the issue I couldn't help but get overly frustrated. I began to cry and cry; harder and harder. I tried to be quiet but was unsuccessful. Eventually Momma must have heard me 'cause she came into my room.

  "What's wrong Jessica?" I really think she already knew what was wrong. I mean how could she not?

  "Oh Momma ?," I just couldn't seem to catch my breath to talk; each time I did try to talk I had to stop and sob.

  "Oh honey, just let it out. I know it can be hard being a child these days."

  I didn't say it but I thought: Its hard being Daddy's daughter is what it is. Its hard being Chief of Police John Long's daughter in a Barnsdall, OK ? that's what it is. At the time I truly believed Daddy ? well, threw his weight around too much. I suppose it was none of my business what he did when it didn't impact my life, but this Uncle Tommy beating had cost me a friend. I wonder if Daddy even cared about that. If Daddy even thought, just maybe, he could have handled that situation differently; less violently maybe. I doubted it even crossed his mind. That's really what hurt the most. I doubted Daddy really even cared.

  After several minutes of Momma holding me and me crying my head off, she said: "Come on Jessica, just try to relax."

  "O ? O ? Ok Momma," I said as I began to compose myself.

  "Good, that's better honey," she stroked my blond hair. "Now why don't you tell me what's really bothering you."

  "Well Momma you know what's botherin' me ? I want to know why Daddy beat up Melissa's Uncle Tommy ? why I had to lose a friend 'cause Daddy had to hurt someone." I was still crying just a little now.

  "Oh honey, your Daddy's got a real hard job. He has to keep law and order in town. He hast to go out in the middle of the night, risking his life, to break up bar fights and such. Sometimes he hast to get involved and ? well people can get hurt."

  I thought to myself: yeah people can get hurt ? isn't that an understatement.

  "Momma why can't I know why? Why can't Daddy just tell me why he had to do it?"

  "Well now Jessica he did. He explained that this Tommy fellow hit him as he tried to arrest him. Isn't that explanation enough?" Momma seemed to be sticking up for Daddy. I suppose that was part of her wifely duties.

  "Momma ? is getting hit really an excuse to beat Melissa's Uncle Tommy nearly to death?"

  "Well now honey we can't really judge your Daddy's actions you know. We weren't there." This seemed to me like the normal "let's just let it go" attitude Momma has with Daddy's bad behavior.

  "Well couldn't he have put handcuffs on him or something? Did he have to kick him and beat him so bad?"

  You know what? I already knew the answer ? and it was a resounding NO! But I really wanted to hear Momma say it; although I doubted she would, or more so could. I don't think she could get herself to address such a problem with Daddy head on. No she seems to always stick her head in the sand.

  Now I know I'm talkin' bad about my Momma and that's not good ? you know how you're always supposed to honor thy mother and father and such. But it gets real frustrating when Momma can't see what's right in front of her face.

  "Jessica ? some things you just have to learn to live with." Momma sounded a bit stern now.

  "You mean it's OK for Daddy to have done what he did?" I sounded a bit stern myself.

  "I didn't say that Jessica, I'm just saying ? well ? what do you want me to do about it?" Momma sounded down right rude now. My first thought was: what an odd thing to say to your daughter.

  "Well Momma, I guess I want you to understand that Daddy's actions cost me a friend. And I suppose I want Daddy to acknowledge that and at least feel a little bad about it." I thought this to be a reasonable desire.

  "I don't think your Daddy believes he did anything wrong Jessica. I think he believes he was doing his duty."

  "But do you think he really felt like he had to nearly kick the guy almost to death to "do his duty"?" I realized I was pushin' Momma a bit now; makin' her face things she didn't want to face; namely Daddy's bad behavior and her constant covering up of that behavior.

  "I suppose he must've honey, or he wouldn't have done what he did. I suppose he must have believed it was appropriate and necessary." Momma sounded more like she was asking me a question than telling me the truth about her opinion.

  "Do you believe it was appropriate Momma?"

  "Jessica, it's just plain none of my business. I don't get involved in your Daddy's job. He's the one putting his life on the line out there everyday, and if some drunken fella decides to take a swing at him ? well I support your Daddy in doin' what ever he feels he hast to do to keep our town safe and more importantly, bring himself home to his family each and every evening. You see my point don't you?" Momma sounded so sincere.

  "Yes ? yes I do Momma." I have to admit Momma had a real good point there. I mean in her mind it could have been Melissa's Uncle Tommy beatin' up Daddy or the other way around. In her mind it was better that Daddy was doin' the beating than him catchin' the beating. I got her point well. I suppose if there's gonna be evil roamin' around in the world best it not land on Daddy ? but rather that the evil land on the other guy. It's kind of a cynical (another one of my old spelling words c-y-n-i-c-a-l; cynical) way of lookin' at things, but Momma had made her point.

  With Momma's point
being made and understood I felt it best not to push the issue any further. Momma tucked me in and left the room.

  As I was drifting off to sleep I remember thinking cynical thoughts myself. I thought about how as I grew older, day by day, I more and more saw my Momma as a cover up artist for Daddy's bad side. I believe they call that an enabler. She just sticks her head in the sand and sees nothing. But I sure do. Nonetheless, I do love my Momma ? and ? Daddy.

  Methamphetamine Lab

  As told to me by Jacob Wassom

  Why Jacob Wassom even talked to me, I really don't know. Guess he thought I should know how it all went down ? being my Daddy was involved.

  Jacob's three grades above me and I don't think he's ever even spoken to me before. He was not the bearer of good news. I sometimes think about that. Did he really think I wanted to hear about it? Was he trying to just be mean? Ya know spreading the news no matter who it hurt. Or maybe he thought it important that I be aware. I'm still not certain what his motives were.

  "Jessi Long? You Jessi? Yeah I know you ? you're Jessi Long." Jacob seemed to talk himself into believing he either knew me already or at least had a purpose in approaching me. His tone was odd; like someone you've known a long time. I didn't respond to him; rather just looked up at him with a look of "yes, what is it you want".

  "You hear about what happened?" It was funny how Jacob thought this was enough information for me to understand. He seemed to really think my connection to my Daddy must make me know all about the happenings in Barnsdall.

  "That was really somethin' wasn't it?" Jacob continued his line of vague statements. I just tilted my head a little as if to say "come again".

  "I mean it's kinda somethin' to have a meth lab just a couple a blocks from the Chief of Police's house huh? Well or trailer or house on wheels or whatever you want to call what ya'll live in. Ha ha!" Jacob seemed to be doing well at carrying on a one way conversation and even laughing at his own lousy jokes. I was beginning to wonder who the elder was here.

  At least at this point I began to realize what Jacob Wassom was talking about. I'd heard the explosion ? I mean who in town didn't, but it being so close to my home (we'll just call it home OK ? not a house on wheels) I was sure not to miss it. Rattled the windows it did. That's what Momma said, see I was at school at the time; even rattled the windows there. Daddy calls it the poor man's cocaine. Or was it Redneck cocaine? Either way, he says it's real dangerous to make.

  Anyway, I'd heard the explosion and that it was a meth lab; but little else really. I really had no desire to know the details. I mean why would I? So I didn't bother to ask Daddy about it and he hadn't brought his thoughts about the event to the dinner table yet. Although at the time I was pretty sure he would ? eventually. You know, when he got "damn good and ready", as he often says.

  "Well Jess ?" Apparently Jacob must've felt like he knew me so well now that he could call me by a shortened nickname. Jessica to Jessi; now all the way to just Jess. Gosh this Jacob kid was arrogant! Don't ya think?

  " ? James Staley lived in that house; well before it blew up anyways. Yeah him and his girlfriend Debbie Forest. If I'm not mistaken they had a little baby with 'em too." It struck me that arrogant Jacob Wassom could wonder if he was mistaken. Surely he's never been wrong. If you can't tell yet ? this Jacob fella was rubbin' me the wrong way. Just out of the blue coming up to me and telling me a story about something ? well something he didn't know I wanted to hear anyways.

  Thinking back, I'm not sure if it was the story being told or the storyteller. I'm not sure it really matters. All I know is I really didn't like Jacob Wassom and to this day I wish he'd never come up to me.

  "Yeah a little bambino and a couple of big mean pit bulls and a puppy bull as well. Great combination huh? Pit bulls and babies. Well I guess ole' James Staley's never really been known for his brains anyways. Even if he used to have some ? you know ? brains; well he's rotted them all away with his constant crank habit. I mean that fella's a down right speed freak; and I ain't talkin' 'bout driven if you catch my drift." I did catch his drift and wished he'd just get along to the end of his little story.

  "You know what I heard?" Jacob continued to meander around, rather than getting to the point. "I heard those two mean pit bulls ate a neighbor's cat ? yep that's right, didn't just kill it, but ate it up. Folks say there was nothin' left but a few fur balls." I'd actually heard the same story and think its true too. I suppose we're all just lucky those dogs haven't attacked any of the kids in the neighborhood.

  "You know what I wonder?" I just glared at Jacob with a bland look. I was trying to convey my lack of caring for what he wondered. It didn't deter him though.

  "I been wonderin' why Big John didn't know about this crank house or meth lab or what ever you want to call it ? well ya know ? earlier, before it literally blew up in his face ? I mean down the block from his own trailer house anyways." I was gettin' pretty tired of Jacob's sass at this point. I was just about to give him a piece of my mind when he got back on point and started telling his story.

  "Well ole' James had apparently fallen on some bad times. Not that he was ever much for workin'; but apparently he lost his oil field job a while back. Heard he showed up to work drunk one too many times. That's some dangerous work to be doin' all tanked up ya know. Come to think of it, that's probably why he's missin' a few fingers."

  "Anyways ? I guess James decided to start dealin' some drugs to make ends meet. I really don't know what his girlfriend Debbie thought about it; but she didn't seem to break ties with him 'cause of it. I suppose she didn't care where the money was comin' from as long as it kept comin'. Mouths ta' feed ya know." Jacob sounded like he was implying Debbie was part of the problem in James's life; sounded to me like James was a pretty big problem all to himself.

  "Well I guess drug dealin' money didn't suite James well enough. Spose it just wasn't enough to wet his whistle; for what ever reason he decided to cut out the middle man and just make the drugs himself. Now he'd been dealing pot and meth and a dabble of coke and such; but that cocaine's too damn expensive for these parts really. But when he decided to start making his own drugs and sellin' them himself, he decided to really focus in on the meth. Best bang for the buck they say; both in the high and in the money made." As Jacob went into this detail I found myself wondering how he knew so much about the drug trade. Sounded to me like he must be involved in it somehow?

  "Hell ever'body in town knew James Staley was cookin' right out of his house. It's not like he's a chemist or anything ? so I'ze always afraid to walk by that house, figuring it could blow up at anytime. You know about how meth labs can explode right?" I did hear about that on the news, but really didn't want to talk with Jacob about it, so I just shrugged my shoulders.

  "Well they can blow up; sky high really. If someone don't know what they're doin' they can mix the wrong chemical, or too much of this or that and kabooom!" Jacob made a theatrical wave of his hands as he yelled "kabooom" out.

  "It's safe to say James is one of those "someone's who don't know what they're doing", 'cause, as you know, he blew himself up; well almost anyways." Jacob seemed to think this was quite funny as he went into a laughing fit for a spell.

  "Yeah James was doin' pretty good for himself for a while. Ya know, bringin' in the dough and all. Guess Debbie sure liked the spendin' money. You'd think they would've fixed that house up a bit. Even though they had money, the house still looked like a dump. But James made that big mistake most dealers or cookers make. He began getting' high on his own supply. I mean he wasn't a very stable guy when he was just drinkin', but you throw crank into the mix and he turned into a down right lunatic. He wasn't safe to shoot pool with let alone mix chemicals with. Cookin' meth became a dangerous endeavor for him ? hell him and every other person in town really. You know ? kabooom!" Jacob again did his theatric hand gestures.

  "It was on a Tuesday ? an
overcast dreary day, but then you know that right? I mean you were in town same as I was. Guess they couldn't call it "Green Country" if it never rained." Jacob was showing some sound logic.

  "Well now ? I suppose James was like ever'body else; ya know staying inside on a day threatenin' rain. He must have wanted to make good use of his time, or maybe greed was just drivin' him; but anyways, he was cookin' up a storm. And I don't mean brownies Jess! Ha ha ha!" Jacob tickled himself again.

  I was fidgeting a bit now, or really just doin' a little tap dance as I listened to Jacob. This wasn't just a lack of patience with Jacob's ramblings ? I had to pee real bad. Apparently Jacob noticed my little jig and asked me what was wrong. I just replied "nothin" and put up my index finger as I walked to the girl's bathroom. I spent a long time in there on purpose. I was really hoping Jacob would've given up and left. Nope ? he was still waiting when I came out. He continued on as if he hadn't missed a beat.

  "He was cookin' batch after batch of meth, of course sampling a pipe full of each batch. Heard he calls this his quality control, but in reality James Staley just likes to get high; simple as that. Well as you can imagine, after five or six batches of his special brew, James was getting' pretty damn well lit up. Mixin' cookin' meth and getting high is ? well a bad mixture. It's just askin' for trouble really." All I could think about this comment from Jacob was: "Duh!"

  "Ole' James was doin' pretty good for a while, but he started gettin' all high and paranoid and rushing around and such. You know how meth heads act after a while, scratchin' themselves and flying around like a squirrel or somethin'." I didn't know first hand about how a meth head acts, but I'd heard. Something was telling me Jacob did know first hand though.

  "James wasn't payin' close enough attention to his cookin' ? obviously. Now I don't know if he mixed the wrong chemicals or just added too much of the right chemicals. Probably doesn't matter really. Either way the chemicals started bubbling over. The kitchen, where he was cookin', started to fill with smoke and fumes, even more than normal during cookin' meth. Seems everybody panicked at this point. Debbie apparently ran outside with the baby and the dogs were barking their heads off." I didn't know if I should really believe Jacob. I mean how could he have really known all these details?

  "Well James stuck with his work. He tried to stop the chemical reaction. First he turned off the burner; didn't work. Then he moved the pan off the burner; didn't work! Then he had a real dumb idea. He threw some water on the pan. Can you believe it! He actually threw water on the chemical reaction. I mean even a first grader knows not to do that ? that it just makes it worse." Now I don't know if a first grader would know that, but Jacob had a good point. Most adults know that, and someone cooking with chemicals certainly should.

  "James ain't a smart dude, but he knew better. If he wasn't high he wouldn't have done it. But then again if he wasn't high the chemicals wouldn't a started bubblin' over in the first place. He would a been more careful." I noticed a change in Jacob's face at this point of his story. He started smirking; like something really funny was about to happen. Like he was coming to the punch line of a joke; a joke he really thought was funny.

  "Now the chemicals were more than bubblin', they were running over the sides of the pan and the fumes were getting unbearable. James started coughing and his eyes and throat were burnin' somethin' fierce. So he grabbed up the pan and ran into the bathroom and threw the chemicals in the toilet; trying to flush them away. Bad idea!" Jacob was talking with his hands now and raising the theatrics.

  "Just about the time James hit the flush handle ? BOOOOM! Explosion. He's really lucky it didn't kill him. I'll bet the pain made him wish it did though. See the toilet just disintegrated ? well all but these shards of porcelain, or what ever toilets are made of, like razor blades. The shards slammed right into James from head to toe. This along with the blast itself and the chemicals flying back on him left him burned and cut to shreds. He was bleeding all over and dazed. Folks saw him walk out of the house and said he was kind of like a zombie. I suppose he was stunned real bad; that coupled with the drugs in his system and probably shock too, left him really out of it. He just sat on the edge of his front lawn as Debbie stared at him. His clothes were in ribbons and he had those shards stickin' out of his skin ever'where; but luckily they missed his eyes. They said he looked like a giant porcupine, ha ha ha!" Jacob thought this was pretty funny. I thought it was morbid. I mean why would he think I would want to hear such graphic details, or even remotely find someone getting hurt like that funny?

  "Well your Daddy ? Big John ? didn't have to wait for the dispatcher to send out the call. Hell ever'body in town heard the blast. John must've thought it best to get right on over; following the smoke. Apparently he was just rounding the corner off of Second Street, not a half a block from the destroyed house, when the dispatch came across: 'John ? you better get on over to the block of Second and Maple ? got some calls 'bout an explosion ? over'. John must've been thinkin': no shit Sherlock. Based on the sound John heard, we all heard, he must not've been too surprised at the state of the house, but later I think he was pretty surprised when he found out how the explosion happened. Like I said right under his nose ? a meth lab right under his nose!" Jacob must have really felt it necessary to keep driving this point home.

  "Got it!" I said with contempt.

  "What?" Replied Jacob.

  Come on! As if Jacob didn't know what I meant.

  "I got it Jacob, right under my Daddy's nose ? a meth lab ? I got it." I had a stark look on my face, trying to mask my anger. But if I was really masking it I wouldn't have said anything at all I suppose.

  "Oh ? OK," replied Jacob with little caring in his voice.

  "Well Big John showed up just in time to see half the town gather round. I mean Barnsdall can be pretty boring and when an explosion like that happens you can bet folks are gonna come a runnin'; and they did. If the explosion hadn't a happened during school hours there'd a been a lot more folks around; little kids and such, that wouldn't a been good. No not good at all really." Again I couldn't help but wonder how Jacob knew all this stuff about the explosion; but he sure seemed to.

  "As the folks gathered around, too close for Chief of Police John Long's liking, Big John decided to call in for reinforcements. That is to keep crowd control. He called dispatch to have both of his full-time officers, and his part-timer too, come on over to the house. Barney Fife's is what I call'em. They ain't worth more than dog shit on your shoe if you ask me. But I suppose they can keep crowd control ? maybe. Apparently John thought so." Jacob was talking about all these folks, from James to Debbie, from the police officers to my Daddy as if he knew them ? knew them well. I don't think he knew any of them though. Gosh Josh is an arrogant jerk!

  "Get back ? stay back! That's what John yelled at the crowd when he got out of his police cruiser. He sounded pretty mad. He got even madder when it took more than ten minutes for his officers to arrive. Great response time huh? Hell it takes about two minutes to drive all the way across Barnsdall. What in the world took them so long? Oh, I know ? they've got a bad case of the laze's. Like I said worthless ? that's what those officers are. Anyways, they finally showed up and John was able to take himself off crowd control and really start tending to the scene; crime scene is what it really was."

  Now, I have to admit I was kind of interested in Jacob's story. I didn't need all the details before, but now that my Daddy was in the picture I was pretty darn interested in knowing how he handled things. I hoped I wasn't goin' to hear a story similar to the one Melissa told me. I doubted it.

  "What Big John saw was ? well a real mess!" Jacob looked a little sad as he said this.

  "Yeah not only was the side of the house, where the bathroom was, chard and splintered, though not completely blown away; but the front of the house was damaged too, mainly the windows and some charring it looked like. Strange h
ow an explosion happens, you never really know where the damage will be done. James lived through it but it looked like he must've been extra lucky, 'cause the house was in a bad state. I suppose the worst part, besides the chemicals polluting everything, was the water damage. See all the pipes in the bathroom had been busted and water was running everywhere; spewing really." Jacob looked at the floor and shook his head slowly.

  "Barnsdall's volunteer Fireman showed up and were beginning to look things over. There really wasn't much to do, besides turn off the water to the house, 'cause there wasn't much of a fire. It was more of an explosion only kinda deal; suppose that's a good thing. Anyways with all the water runnin' out of the house it would a been hard for a fire to catch hold. Although I've seen fire on water before. You ever hear of that? Like gas or somethin' is in the water and that's what's really burnin' but it looks like the water's burnin' ? know what I mean?" Jacob was off on another one of his tangents again; funny how he didn't look up from the floor when he asked me this question. I just shook my head in agreement. Don't know if Jacob even saw the gesture though.

  "Well John also saw the dogs were runnin' around barkin' and such, the baby was cryin', so was Debbie, well more sobbin' really; and James Staley was just sitting in the grass like a lump of cookie dough ? just there ? but not all there ya know. He looked real bad." Jacob kept shaking his head and looking at the floor.

  "John's no Paramedic or nothin' so he would leave the helpin' to them, but he did notice several of James's injuries. Most obvious were the burns; couldn't miss them. If you were to look at James from the back you might not quickly notice he was hurt at all, but lookin' at him from the front you saw that his clothes were all shredded and burned away and showing through were nasty burns, probably third degree, you could even see the bone of his right shin. Not much meat or skin on your shin, and apparently it just burned right away ? burned right away all the way to the bone!" Jacob looked up at me now; right in the eyes. He almost looked scared. It struck me then that maybe Jacob wasn't telling me this story for me, but maybe for him. You know to get it off his chest or something. It seemed to be botherin' him pretty bad; well at least this part of the story anyways.

  "As John looked further at James he noticed that the top of one of his shoes was burned clean off and some of the rubber sole seemed to be imbedded in his toes. That's gotta hurt! James's stomach seemed to be OK (except for all the shards of toilet, which were all over him; not just his stomach), but his chest was bright red and had huge blisters all over it. His left hand, the one he was flushing the toilet with, was in shreds and was missing a finger; although I think that finger was already missing from an oil field accident. His right arm looked better, although it still had some burns on it." Jacob clasped his left hand around his right forearm as if indicating where the worst burns were. He looked back at the floor.

  "The worst part was yet to come for ole' John though. Oh yeah. As he looked at James's face and head he noticed his left ear was chard nearly completely off. His eye brows, eye lashes and about half the hair on his head was burned away. His lips were swollen and blistered. His eyes were bright red; probably just blood shot from being so high? When John first spoke to James and got no reply he looked at his right ear, which was still fully intact and looked pretty good, and noticed a stream of blood comin' out. Yeah it don't take a rocket scientist or a Paramedic to know the explosion must've burst James's ear drums. He was all but deaf and couldn't hear a thing, well maybe a bunch a ringin' if he was lucky. See if you can't hear nothing that usually means your hearin' is gone for good. If you hear ringing then there's hope some of the hearing will come back ? some day. That's just what I've heard ? not sure if it's true. Hope so though ? for James's sake." It struck me that Jacob must actually know James or something. I mean more than just "know of" him.

  "Luckily no one else was hurt, not even the dogs. In fact one of the dogs was standing right behind James when the explosion happened. Guess James shielded it from the blast? Anyways ? where was I ? oh yeah, John was trying to get James to snap out of it and talk to him or something. It was taking some time, you know since James couldn't hear and he was all in a stupor or shock or somethin'. Well in the meantime the Paramedics showed up and tried to attend to James, but John wouldn't let them ? not until he had some answers about what happened. Big John already knew ? hell ever'body did. You could smell the chemicals you could see it was a meth lab explosion. Chief of Police John Long knew this; he just didn't want to admit it." At this point I didn't exactly know what Jacob was getting at, but I didn't like what I did get.

  "Yeah everybody could tell John was mad ? no he was down right pissed. He was so angry he couldn't see straight ? embarrassed too. Why? Why you ask? Well he had no idea there was a meth lab operating right under his nose in Barnsdall Oklahoma USA, and he definitely didn't know one was just a block or so from his trailer home. But he should have, he should have known! Hell it's only his job! He was asleep at the wheel and he knew it. Now he'd been outed by this meth lab explosion. Outed as a lazy Chief of Police, that would let something like this go on in our town. He was outed and that made him mad ? and he'd be takin' it out on James Staley." I just wanted to pinch Jacob's arrogant little head off for saying such mean things about my Daddy! He had my tongue tied though when he said his last words about my Daddy taking his mad out on that James Staley fella.

  "No mad really isn't strong enough a word to describe Big John Long about the whole meth lab situation. Livid is maybe a better word. Your Daddy was livid!" Jacob was staring right at me now. It was as if he was accusing me of doing something. Guilty by association I suppose?

  "Well Big John got real testy with the Paramedics as they tried to tend to James. He actually ran them off ? told them to get away until he was done gettin' what he needed outa James. Can you believe it? The Chief of Police actin' that way? I mean it was obvious to everybody the James needed medical attention. But John Long sure didn't care. Once the Paramedics returned to their ambulance to wait, Big John snatched James up off the grass and basically carried him over to his police car. Then when everybody thought he was going to put him in the back seat of the car, instead ? he slammed him onto the trunk lid and grabbed him by the throat. I tell ya Jess, he began screamin' at the top of his lungs in a deep growl, kinda like an animal or something. He was saying stuff like "who the hell do you think you are" and "not in my town" and "a block from my house" and some other stuff like that. I tell ya it was scary. You've got one mean Daddy ? I'll tell you that right now. Everybody thought he was nuts. Then he took his gun out and put it to James's head and yelled "answer me!". That's when a few of the volunteer fireman, the Paramedics and one of the other police officers came over and tried to talk Big John down. I guess they did 'cause he didn't shoot James, but man! It was crazy." Jacob was rolling his eyes now as if to emphasize how crazy the situation was. His words coupled with his rolling eyes made me feel like he was sayin' my Daddy was acting absurd. I'd had it now; I was about to really lay into Jacob when he said ?

  "Well you know the rest of the story, just thought you'd like to know the truth about your Daddy ? he's nuts. Oh yeah, and a crappy Chief of Police! Don't let the apple fall too close to the tree now." And with that little piece of advice Jacob was off like the wind. Steppin' lively he was, and it was a good thing too. If he'd a been just a little bit slower he'd a found my Nike meetin' his backside more than once. Can you believe the nerve of that kid?

  Well Jacob was wrong ? I didn't know the rest of the story. To tell you the truth, I didn't believe the part of the story Jacob told me either. He just seemed so ? so ? well ? fake! I didn't believe the story he told. I shouldn't have either. Right?

  A Piece of John's Mind

  As told to me by Miss Jennings ? whether I wanted her to or not

  "? see your Daddy called a station meeting the day after the meth lab exploded. All the town folk are
now calling it "the flush heard round the world", well or at least the town anyways." Miss Jennings got a big chuckle out of that. I'd been listening to her for a good twenty minutes before she finally got around to telling me this little story. She was her normal self; ya know rambling about this and that and laughin' all the while, barely taking a breath between sentences.

  "Yeah evidently your Daddy wanted to get a few things straight with his fellow police officers. So he called the whole force in. Not too hard to do really when the "whole force" is just two full-time officers, one part-time officer and a dispatcher. Well them plus that hunky Chief of Police John Long! Ha ha!" I really like Miss Jennings but when she starts telling me how she thinks my Daddy is hunky or a hottie or something, well it's kinda ? creepy really.

  "Those members of the police force sure do wear a lot of hats. They'd have to, to keep things runnin' with just those few folks. I mean what do they do if someone gets sick? I'll tell you what they do ? they fill in on the other guy's (or gal's) job. That's the way it works in small towns. Everybody does a lot. And ya know what? Sometimes when your doin' a lot of things, you get nothin' done. I mean sometimes you're so busy doing little bits of everything that none of what you do is done very well, or finished at all. Maybe that's how the meth lab slipped through the cracks? Could be ? could be. But who really knows?" I thought Miss Jennings had a pretty good point there. I didn't bother to answer any of her questions 'cause I was so sure she'd answer them herself ? as usual.

  "Well I certainly think being so busy with all those jobs played a big part in it. But then again those three police officers are some lazy farts let me tell ya." Miss Jennings went into a ten minute rant about each of the three officers (Moe, Larry and Curly she called them) but I'll spare you the details on that.

  By the way the two full-time officer's names are Cecil Smith and Jerry Taylor. The part-timer is Eli Folson and the dispatcher's name is Jenni Bresh. Not to disagree with Miss Jennings, and I didn't 'cause I didn't tell her this, but I've met all these folks and I think they're all real nice. At least to me they were. But I don't know how hard they work I suppose.

  "Yes ma'am Jessi, your Daddy wasted no time in gettin' his point across. He called the department meeting for a reason and he aimed to make that real clear. Yeah he gave them a piece of his mind, telling them about work ethic and keepin' your eye on the ball and caring about this town and keepin' folks safe and servin' and stuff like that. I remember this one part real well. I believe John's exact words were: "What the h-e-double hockey sticks do ya'll do around here anyways, do I have to do ever'thing myself? How could you inept suckers miss that meth lab, heck it seems like everyone in town knew about it but you!" That's what he said alright ? yep Jessi that's what he said ? well except he didn't really say h-e-double hockey sticks, heck or suckers. Instead he chose more colorful words if you know what I mean." Miss Jennings smiled and rubbed my blond hair. She was being quite condescending really. Did she actually think I hadn't heard cuss words before? Especially from Daddy. I bet I know more about Daddy's bad habit of cussin' than Miss Jennings does.

  It struck me how Miss Jennings said she remembered this one part real well. Sounded like she must've parked herself right outside the police station and was listening, eavesdropping really, to the whole thing. Not very couth (one of my spelling words I think sounds real cool, c-o-u-t-h; couth) of her, I thought. I could just picture her sittin' on the curb on Main Street outside the tiny little Police Station (one cell, one room and a bathroom), bending her ear to the nth degree to get a good listen. She's quite the mess; that Miss Jennings is. Goodness!

  "Yeah Big John was steamin'. It only made it worse when none of his employees spoke up at his question. Guess they thought it was rhetorical? Well they all just sat there lookin' at the floor trying not to make eye contact with John. Probably hoping he'd let them off the hook. He didn't though. He kept pacing back and forth in front of them, about to wear a hole right through the floor." Miss Jennings had gotten up and was, very theatrically I might add, showing me how Daddy was pacing back and forth. She made it look real funny. I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

  "Funny now I know, but at the time I can assure you the three stooges and Jenni didn't find it too awful funny. No they looked scared out of their wits. I suppose anyone would be with that giant of a man leering down at them with a big mean on." Miss Jennings made a real big frown showing Daddy's expression. Based on seein' Daddy mad myself many times, I think she nailed it pretty good.

  "John laid into them again, not holding much, if anything back. They probably deserved it really, maybe even worse. That Moe, Larry and Curly are pretty darn lazy. Not good for much 'cept maybe sipping coffee and poundin' down donuts. I guess ole' John thought those three stooges were makin' him look like ? look like ? well Shemp; and he was havin' none of it. "I ain't just talkin' to myself up here ya'll!" That's what Big John kept saying. Boy he can sound mean when he wants to. I'd hate to have him angry with me like that." Miss Jennings put a frightful look on her face; but still a bit comical.

  I have to agree with Miss Jennings. Daddy sure can sound mean when he wants to; or maybe even doesn't want to. It occurred to me that he probably can't help himself. He just looses it sometimes. It also occurred to me that the older I get the less and less I'm afraid of Daddy's fits of anger. I think they just affect me different as I get older. Rather than scaring me like they used to, they just remind me of ? well of little Johnny's rare baby fits. Daddy's anger is more like a whiny temper tantrum to me now. Maybe thinkin' of it like that is more of just a coping mechanism? Ya think?

  "Well Larry and Curly are just spineless jellyfish really, but Moe ? well he's got at least a little backbone. After John spent about ten minutes cussin' and yellin' at everyone, I guess ole' Moe just couldn't take it anymore; had to speak up." By the way, despite what Miss Jennings says, "Moe" has a real name; Jerry.

  Jerry Taylor's a big man, though not quite as big as my Daddy. He's been a lawman most of his adult life and I think he really knows what he's doing too. He pretty much keeps quiet and follows orders from my Daddy, although he has the brains to probably be givin' some of those orders too. Think he learned how to follow orders so well when he was in the Marines; word around the campfire is he got a bunch of medals for doin' real good in the war. He strikes me as a real nice guy and real tough guy too. He's probably just a few inches shorter than my Daddy and maybe not quite as muscular, but he's got a large build and my Momma says he kinda looks like Dick Butkus. Who ever that is? All I know is that name always makes me giggle and Momma says "shame on you Jessica!".

  "Well Moe made the mistake of blurting out: "Shit John ease up ? it ain't like you knew about that meth lab neither." He probably knew he made a mistake the second he closed his mouth. John just glared at him for what seemed like an eternity." Miss Jennings looked real serious now.

  "Moe started to squirm in his seat a little bit and the rest of the crew remained firmly set on staring at the floor." Miss Jennings made a mocking gesture of pointing at the floor as she held her head down. She seemed to think that was pretty funny.

  "Your Daddy looked like he was a simmerin' pot; like he was just waitin' for the boil to roll over." Now's when Miss Jennings really got into her story (and forgot to leave out the bad words too):

  "Well goddamn Jerry, I guess that makes things all better huh? Being that I didn't know there was a meth lab a block from my home!" John was more growling now than yelling.

  "John I'ze just trying to say ?" Moe was swiftly interrupted.

  "Jerry, you're a real piece of work. Think you know it all huh; think it's all explained away by saying, well the boss didn't know so that excuses me from my responsibility. One smart Marine huh? Looks to me like you left the best part of your brains back in boot camp Jerry." Big John wasn't really making much sense at this point, more rambling really.

  "John, hell ? well
none of us knew about that meth lab, that's all I'm sayin'." Moe had a soft tone to his voice but still held to his conviction, not sounding contrite about his initial statement.

  "Well you should have Jerry, you should all have," John pointed an accusing finger around the room at each of his employees. They all continued to look at the floor.

  "Look at me you worthless pieces of shit! The least you can do is look me in the eye when you tell me you think you've been doin' a "good enough job" by your standards." Everyone looked up slowly and more looked at Chief of Police John Long's nose than providing direct eye contact.

  "You think you're doing a good job Eli?" John glared directly at Eli, a portly middle aged fella that reminds everyone of an early (chubby) Billy Bob Thornton.

  "I guess not John," Eli sounded as iffy as a chap could.

  "You guess not ? you guess not ? that's the kind of noncommittal attitude that got us in this mess. You either are or you aren't you fat sack of shit! Why don't you just commit to starin' at the floor again. You're damn good at that!" John laughed under his breath; a sarcastic laugh. Eli, or I call him Curly, returned his eyes to the floor in utter submission.

  "Just wait a goddamn minute John!" Moe, I mean Jerry, jumped to his feet in disagreement. He didn't jump forward at John, that would have been suicide probably, instead he just popped straight up out of his chair, straddling it.

  "Still it took a big pair, excuse my French Jessi, to even do that."

  Miss Jennings had jumped up out of her chair to illustrate to me how Jerry had shown his disapproval of Daddy's rants. Miss Jennings couldn't help but seem more like a clown than a big tough former Marine.

  "John you're outa line," Moe used a calming but assertive voice. Didn't help much though.

  "Oh, am I now Jerry?"

  "You bet you are John," Moe looked brave at the moment.

  "I draw the lines around here Jerry and if I wanta cross 'em I will, you got that? Ya'll have been lazy and careless. I can think of no other way to put it ? lazy pieces of garbage! Now you sit your ass down and hear me out. I want a commitment for improvement or I want your badges." John was pulling no punches; that's for sure.

  Moe, I mean Jerry, remained standing in defiance. His face became a bit red and he slowly clasped his fists together. He more seemed to be stunned by John's words than readying himself for a physical confrontation though. However, John took it otherwise.

  "Ok Jerry, if that's the way you want it. You want to be able to do a shitty job and then confront your boss about your hurt feelings when you're called out on it. Fine we can have it that way; you can have it just the way you like it. Let's put those balled up fists of yours to work right now." John paused for a moment then walked over and turned the door handle to the front door of the Police Station. "Out back," said John while gritting his teeth.

  Now if there's one thing I've learned about my Daddy ? it's that he rarely bluffs. So I figure if Miss Jennings was gettin' the story straight; well then Daddy was really gonna fight with Jerry. I didn't like that idea at all. I like Jerry, I didn't want to see him fightin' with my Daddy!

  "John ? now wait a minute," said Jenni just tryin' to calm the situation.

  "Now you just stay out of this Jenni," said John with a sheepish grin. "The men are talking now."

  "Jessi, your Daddy can be a male shovenist sometimes," said Miss Jennings with a shrug of her shoulders.

  "Now get your happy ass out back Jerry," said John as he jerked open the front door to the police station." I suppose the back door would have been more appropriate to go "out back" but as small as the police station is any door is close to "out back" really.

  "Hell John let's just all calm down and work this out," mumbled the one I call Larry ? but I think that one's really Cecil.

  "Shut up Cecil! Unless you want to come out back too," yelled John very quickly and pointing a mean finger right at Cecil. He did shut up.

  "Come on now Jerry ? don't make me drag you," said John with an evil little smile.

  "Alright John, you win," said Jerry as he slowly sat back down in his chair. "Let's not go there ? Ok." Jerry returned his eyes to the floor and looked like a beaten man. Miss Jennings mocked his gesture.

  "I suppose it was better to cower than to fight Big John. He surely would have lost that fight, but even if he won he'd a still lost his job probably, so he was really in a no win situation." Miss Jennings said this with disappointment in her voice; almost like she kinda wanted the fight to take place; to see it.

  "Now Jessi ? your Daddy felt like the big man on campus now. He slowly shut the door and puffed up his chest saying something to the order of: "Alright now that ever'one knows their place we can get somethin' done." He looked like he'd just won a gold medal in the Olympics. He beamed with pride.

  Now I don't know how Miss Jennings thinks she could know what my Daddy was thinkin' or feelin' for that matter. But ? to be completely honest with myself, I'd have to say she's right. Daddy has a great deal of pride. Too much. Enough for fifty men sometimes. That's what my Momma says. She worries a lot about my Daddy's prideful manners, especially when he's throwing his weight around and feelin' good about it. Just like this instance.

  I worry about Daddy too. I worry about what he takes joy in. I mean it seems like he's most happy when he's makin' others feel ? well bad ? or maybe it's better to say scared. Yeah, scared. That's probably what he gets the most pride out of. He likes to be feared. I suppose that's something to do with the law enforcement thing. He thinks people have to fear the law to obey it? Either way, Momma and I sometimes think he takes it too far. If what Miss Jennings was telling me was the straight facts, then he was takin' it too far with ole' Jerry; nice guy Jerry.

  "Now Jessi," Miss Jennings continued on. "Your Daddy went into a long gripe session, gettin' real red faced and pointin' at each of his employees as he listed out their negative traits as officers or employees or ? well simply as human beings. He was pretty mean really. Although I suppose they deserved it. I thought he was mean at the beginning of the meeting, but that was nothing compared to what he was doin' at the end. It just seemed like he couldn't find a good trait in any of his employees. He was down right destroying them ? if you know what I mean."

  I did know what she meant. I'd seen Daddy do it before. He'd never really done it to me, but something told me ? eventually ? he'd get around to it.

  "Let me just tell you all this ? I will ensure the safety of folks that live in this town, if ya'll want to keep your jobs you'll do the same!" And with that last statement John stormed out of the station slamming the door behind him.

  "I tell ya Jessi it was quite scary," said Miss Jennings as she now looked at the floor, not unlike the beaten down police officers were doin' under my Daddy's wrath.

  I patted Miss Jennings on the head like so many adults do me; just trying to sooth her feelings. When I pulled my hand back it was all sticky with hair spray. I won't be doin' that again.

  Tick Tick Tick

  Time continued to go by and Daddy kept fightin' to keep our town safe. Barnsdall's such a small town you wouldn't think that would be too hard really. But I guess you'd be surprised.

  Often at the breakfast, or dinner, table Daddy would complain about those "sons-a-bitches" breakin' the law. His words not mine. That usually elicited a harsh response from Momma. "John! Watch your language please," or something to the sort. Of course Daddy didn't and Momma didn't push the issue ? as usual.

  This one evening at the dinner table Daddy went into one of his long rants about folks parking in the handicap spots at the post office. You know just to run in for a minute.

  "That Joanne Bresher girl ? you know she's late twenties or something with about ten kids or so." Daddy was exaggerating. I think?

  "Well she's not in the best of shapes really ? a bit on the portly side if you know what I mean, but she's anything but handicapped. She surely doesn't have one o
f them handicap stickers in her car window!" Daddy was talking between heaping forks full of beans.

  "Hmm," said Momma simply trying to show Daddy that she was paying attention. I think he appreciates that.

  "A couple a days ago I was up to the post office and there was hardly anybody around, being the time a day it was and all. Well I parked in the front spot, you know the one right next to the two handicap spots ? which I guess are really the "front spots". Well as I was comin' out of the post office in pulls Joanne right in the handicap spot next to my patrol car. Couldn't believe it! Not only right next to my patrol car, but right in front of me. She got out of her car with a couple letters in her hand and started to waddle up to the front door of the post office." Daddy was rolling his shoulders back and forth as to mimic Joanne's waddling. It was quite funny really.

  "John, shame on you," said Momma with a giggle. "You shouldn't make fun of folks." I guess this was true, but it didn't stop Momma from laughing right along with the rest of us; even little Johnny got a big laugh out of it, though I think he was just laughing 'cause the rest of us were.

  "As I was saying," Daddy was still laughing a little under his breath. "As I was saying, I was just comin' out of the post office, so I met Joanne before she got to the door. I asked her what she thought she was doin'. She said, and I quote: "mailing some letters John". That's it, just "mailing some letters". Before I could say anything else she had waddled past me and into the post office." Daddy took a swig of beer and paused for a moment.

  "That all?" Surely Momma knew Daddy wouldn't just be leaving it at that. He'd make sure law and order were followed. To the letter!

  "Hell no that ain't all," replied Daddy abruptly, but with a smile.

  "John ? language," Momma gave him the big bug eyes.

  "Ok ? ok Katherine."

  "Well I just strolled on over to her car and started writing out a nice hefty ticket for sassy Miss Bresher. Figured she'd pay more attention to that than she did to me trying to talk to her before. She comes struttin' back out of the post office all happy with herself and finds me there liftin' up her windshield wiper to give her a present."

  "'What are you doing John?' As if Joanne didn't know. Maybe she didn't but that's no excuse. Right?" Momma and I just shook our heads, though not really in agreement I don't think.

  "I just told Joanne that she's parked illegally. Can you believe she asked me what I meant? Can you believe that?" Momma just shrugged her shoulders.

  "I mean she's either a liar or she's down right dumb; probably both really. Well I explained to her that she was parked in the handicap spot and such. She begged me for about ten minutes not to ticket her, then she went into this cryin' fit like a baby. I just told her to learn from it and don't do it again. She kept on cryin' as she got in her car and drove off." Daddy put his hands up in the air like he was holding a car's steering wheel.

  "Hmm," said Momma again.

  "I tell ya Katherine, some people are just so thick ? or they just have such total disregard for the law that it drives me up a wall. You know what I mean?" Momma just shook her head again, but again I don't think it was in agreement.

  Now I'm not sayin' Joanne didn't deserve a ticket, but I do think it was a pretty little thing to be "driven up a wall" over. Don't you?

  Then a couple of evenings later Daddy mentioned, or should I say ranted about, a more serious breach of the law. I think that's what he said: "breach of the LAW!"

  "Jessi ? umm ? Jessica ? you'll want to listen to this closely." Daddy paused for a moment to make sure he had my full attention. He did, as well as Momma's. Johnny was busy playing with his food; he had more on him than in him at this point.

  "Now ya'll know I usually take it on myself to patrol the morning school zones. That is to make sure none of those soccer moms get too crazy in their mini vans or sport suv's; speeding and such. Seems like they're always in a hurry after they've dropped off little Tommy or Jane or whoever." Daddy's face was already gettin' a little red. This was a quick signal to Momma and I that Daddy was pretty darn serious about the point he was about to make. Serious and upset too!

  "John you want a glass of ice water?" Momma asked out of the blue. She was probably just trying to get Daddy to calm down before he got all riled up. I didn't think it would work.

  "Ice water," Daddy replied in a strange way, like he was both asking a question and making a statement of fact at the same time. His words were unclear, but the huge swig from his beer and tilt of his head way back said it all. His movement said: "are you kidding me! Ice water, now what would I want with that when I've got BEER! BEER! BEER!!!" Momma left it at that.

  "Well I was up there at the school yesterday morning. In fact it was just after you dropped Jessi off Katherine ?"

  "Jessica," Momma corrected.

  "Pardon ma'am ? Jessica," replied Daddy sounding like he'd started on the beer extra early this evening. I did notice there was quite the mound of bottles in the trash can already. Funny how glimpsing at that trash can reminded me of my filthy book bag.

  "Wasn't long after you dropped Jessica off Katherine, that I saw Tammy Johanson kickin' in the turbo on her new Volvo wagon. Hell I don't know if it was really turbo or not, who knows about these new foreign cars, but she sure acted like it was." Daddy says he's a "straight Detroit man" all the way; what ever that means. All I know is he's always sayin' stuff like "they don't make 'em like they used to" and "this country'd be a whole lot better if ever'body would buy American".

  I'll let you in on a little secret. While my Daddy says "buy American", when he really steps out and wants to think he's havin' a real good time ? he buys German beer. That's right, he breaks the law too ? well his own laws, or at least rules. You know what I mean, he says one thing and then does another. I suppose all parents do. He says things like "do what I say not what I do". I don't really know where I'm going with this, I just thought it was funny how he says buy American but his favorite beer is German. Anyways ?

  "Yeah Tammy ? you know her don't you Katherine? Didn't ya'll used to be friends or somethin'?" Daddy took a big mouthful of potatoes au gratin. I jokingly call them "smells like your toes are rottin'", but I actually think they're pretty good.

  "Yeah I know Tammy Stire ? well that was her madden name, Stire; until she married Danny Johanson. I suppose we ?" Momma didn't get to finish as Daddy continued his story. Momma wouldn't dare take offense at bein' interrupted though ? the dutiful little wife.

  "Well Tammy dropped off those kids of hers. What's their names again?" Daddy looked at his plate.

  "Mommy and I looked at each other as if to say: "was that a question for you or me". It didn't matter as Daddy didn't wait for an answer.

  "I was watching her so close because when she pulled into the school driveway she was going one mile per hour over the school zone speed limit ? but I let that go." Daddy said this as if he had done her a great favor. I thought wow Daddy it must've taken some effort to let such a gross breach of the law go! One mile per hour over the speed limit? Goodness.

  "But as usual when you give folks a break on the law ? well pretty soon they're breakin' it even worse. It's the old give 'em an inch and they'll take a mile thing. You know." Daddy shook his head at Momma. Momma nodded her head in agreement. I did too, although Daddy never looked at me. I really did agree too, and I think Momma did as well. Folks really do take as much as they can get most times ? don't they? I know it sounds pretty cynical coming from a kid, but I think you'll understand where I'm coming from a little later.

  Daddy took a moment to get a stronger drink from the cabinet over the sink as well as retrieve a fresh beer from the frig. Momma didn't look too thrilled at this, as Daddy was already slurring a bit; I couldn't help but notice. But Momma didn't voice any disapproval, not that Daddy would have listened anyways.

  "When ole' Tammy pulled back out onto the street, I guess she was thinkin' well I've let my k
ids off so no danger in speeding now. Well whatever she was thinking she came barrelin' out of the school driveway and nearly spun her tires takin' off so fast. Speed limits fifteen miles per hour in the school zone and she was doin' well over twenty-five by the time she passed me. Once again another person breaking the law right in front of the Barnsdall Chief of Police!" Daddy smacked his beer bottle down on the table real hard spilling a little bit out.

  You know what I think was bothering Daddy the most about this little tale and the last one he told about the parking spaces? I think it was that the folks broke the law right in front of him; right in front of the "Barnsdall Chief of Police" Big John Long. Like they should have darn well known better! And well ? they really should have. Daddy seemed to take it to heart; to take it very personal when folks broke the law right in front of him. It never seemed to occur to him that maybe they didn't do it on purpose. That maybe they just had other things on their minds and had no intent to show him any lack of respect. But then again in Daddy's world I don't know that what other folks think, or what their true intent is, really matters.

  "I took out after her. Hell she was a good block down the road before I finally caught up. She just kept on accelerating. I'm sure she thought she had a good reason. You know something like: late for a hair appointment or left the clothes iron on at the house or it was her time of the month or something."

  "John please!" said Momma in her best scolding tone.

  "Sorry hon," said Daddy but sounding like he didn't really mean it.

  "At least she did the right thing by pulling over right away. I don't take too kindly to folks makin' me chase them down." That reminded me of the story I overheard Mr. Swanson telling 'bout that Josh Walker guy. I'll bet he pulls over "right away" from now on.

  "As I approached her car I saw her tap tap tapping her fingers on her steering wheel like she was impatient or somethin'. I asked her for her license and registration and she just started bawling. She kept sayin' something about how she wasn't thinking and how "in trouble" she'd be with her husband if she got another ticket. But hey ? I hadn't given her any other tickets so it wasn't my problem right?" Daddy just laughed and continued on.

  "Well I wrote her out the ticket and as I was walkin' back to my police cruiser I could have sworn I heard her say: "Asshole!"

  "John ? language," said Momma slowly.

  "What Katherine? That's what she said!"

  "Well that's all good and fine John but you don't have to ?" Daddy just ignored Momma and carried on.

  "I went back to her foreign car and asked her what she said. I wasn't rude or anything, but I wasn't exactly nice either." Something told me Daddy's idea of "wasn't exactly nice" is far more threatening than most people would consider those words.

  "Little Miss Tammy Johanson sure changed her tune then, just saying: "Oh nothing Chief, sorry I was speeding". Then she carried on with a few more tears and I just walked off laughing. That Tammy's quite a card don't you think Katherine?"

  Momma started to answer Daddy but before she could he was on to the next subject, then he was quickly out the door to his work shed; to work on his Detroit built car.