Moonshiners
In this week’s excerpt from State of Chaos, I’ll introduce you to the Gump boys, a mutant pack of miscreants and my new next door neighbors in Stinky Hollow.
We turned up another bayou and watched turtles slide off logs, fat water moccasins seek victims, and birds grab insects and fish. After a half-mile or so, Tom beached our boat on a patch of sand. With the sun shining, the big trees overhead, and the calm water mirroring everything, it made for a great picnic spot.
“Cool scene, isn’t it?” said Tom.
“Idyllic. Warm as it is, I’m tempted to jump in.”
Tom pointed at a gator. It was looking at me, licking its lips. . .jaws. . .whatever.
“On second thought, let’s take a hike.”
We barely got out of the boat before a gruff voice ordered, “Hold it right there, boys.”
Three men in camo gear stepped out of the trees. Two of them aimed rifles at us.
“No problem,” I said, hands up, all Mr. Agreeable.
“Hey there, Booger,” said Tom, all Mr. Casual.
“Oh, hey there, Tom. Didn’t recognize you at first.” Booger took his rifle off Tom and pointed it at me instead. “Who’s this here fella?”
“That’s our long lost cousin Huck.”
“He don’t look like kinfolk to me.”
His brothers agreed. “You ain’t no Gump.”
I didn’t say anything, but I was thinking: Thank God.
“Huck’s adopted,” said Tom. “He can’t help the way he looks.”
“Poor feller,” said Booger, and lowered his weapon.
Booger, probably in his mid-30’s, was big and hairy. Picture a Sasquatch with squinty eyes and ears out to there.
Tom made introductions. “Huck, this here is Booger.”
“I figured as much.”
“He’s a smart one, ain’t he, Tom?” said the easily impressed giant as he crushed my hand.
“Tell that to Tuck,” I said.
Tom nodded towards a Gump with the same ears and face (except for the purple birthmark covering the right side of it), but a bit shorter due to the hump. “This here is Goober.”
“Hey there, cousin Huck,” greeted Goober, adding his own vice-like grip.
Tom pointed at the last Gump, a tiny, hairless albino wearing a possum on his head. Or was that a hat? “This here’s Abner.”
To my relief, the pure-white Abner lacked hands and settled for waving a stump.
“How come I ain’t never seen you, cousin Huck?” asked Booger.
Tom said, “Huck’s from California.”
Hearing that, Booger couldn’t help but spit. Same with the brothers. “Shee-it. No offense, Huck, but I don’t rightly care for Californians.”
The others followed suit. “We don’t, neither.”
“You guys have been there?” I asked.
“Hell, no, nothing but homosexuals, hippies, and vegetarians running the place. Wait a second. . .you’re a homo, ain’t you?”
“What?”
“Of course he is,” said Goober.
“Hey. . .”
“I can see you’re no damn hippie.”
“I bet he’s a vegetarian,” said Abner.
“All right, you got me there.”
Tom’s cringe told me, “Big mistake.”
“Thought you said you weren’t no homo?”
“The two things are mutually exclusive, Booger.”
Booger’s face went blank. “What the hell is he talking about, Tom?”
Tom shot me a look. It seemed to hiss, “What did I say about your vocabulary?”
Defending me, Tom said, “He went to college out West, picked up some strange ways.”
“A college boy?” said Goober. “Then he’s definitely a butt pirate.”
“No offense,” I said, “but you guys are nuts.”
“At least we ain’t homo.”
“Well, neither am I.”
Booger gave me a challenge. “Prove it.”
“If Missy will oblige, I will.”
“You having unpure thoughts about our sister?” asked Goober.
“If you consider deviate sex unpure, then. . .”
The rifles came back up.
“Huck’s just kidding,” said Tom. “Right, Huck?”
“That’s me, always joking around.”
Note to self: Stop joking around.
State of Chaos is launching next weekend, so I hope I’ve tweaked your interest. If you haven’t already started the Senor Bueno Travel Adventure, here’s your change. Grab a free copy of Breaking Good right now!