A true Future Classic. (But only cause I can never get it out on time)
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Also I was terified because with my luck, a couple of drunken looters woud be thrown into this here cell and beat the crap out of me AND POSIBLY GOD KNOWS WHAT ELSE.
I am a big baby. OK I admit it I started to cry. The deputy came over to the cell. I thoght she might possibly try to comfort me but insted she started asking me questions about Stu. You know, wether or not he is marreid, and is he a nice fellow, and all that supperfflouos crap that women always have to know.
I treid to be acurrate. Without of course, committing Stu to a danm RELLATIONSHIP despite his longstanding fetish for a womon in law enforcement. Stu does not talk allot about his early years but lets just say that the pigsty he grew up in was almost as bad as the one I now live in with Granfather. And while he's never mentionned specifics, I always did get the idea that as a young porker he might of had some sort of illicit but unconsumated crush on a uniform-wearing female USDA inspecter.
Sudenly the phone rang, and she picked it up. Whoever it was she had a big argumment with. The conversation got more intense still she said very loudley: "So WHUT if I'm here alone. I already done TOLE you, I can handle it. It's jest me an' this here lil' ol pencil necked prisoner an' he's locked up tight."
She seemed realy pissed and slammed the phone down and the bottom lip of her big long face quivored.
"That other Deputy, who hauled y'all in with me, remember him?" she asked me. "That's mah brother. All's he does is give me a hard time. Meanwhile, I'm atleast a good Deputy as he, shore 'nuff."
*CLICK*...swish...BOOM went the frontdoor of the tiny cinderblock police station. And bursting in all soakin wet like one of those giant 300 pound bottom feeding resorvior catfish floppin onto the dock after being pulled in by eight guys named Bubba on a gaffer hook in its jaw all baited with a whole chicken that was still in its bulging mouth, dripping allover with sweat and rain, and breathing heavey and hard was Cathyann.
I was so glad to see her. But what teribly imperfect timing. If only she'd shown up a few minnutes ago, so she could call her mom, or my brother or someone to let them know where I was and to PLEASE bail me out.
Cathyann's big lumpy shadow filled the back wall of my cell as she stomped closer and closer with sqiushy steps. .
"Hey, Walter, say whut: I was on my way here when ol' Stu ran right into me. I tried to grab hold of the boy, but he done squirted outta my hands when I grabbed him. Just like a greased hawg....
..."Know WHUT? That's cause he is is greased hawg! BWAHAHAHA! ...Annyways. I ain't never seen that boy move so fast. The whole road is warshed out, and he just real graceful like done dove in and swam across like Esther Williams....
..."Know WHY? Cause them delivery boys from the Thai restarant were on the other side holding his food. Ol' pig in a poke with a wad o'doller bills in his mouth, paddlin' away fast as a goose. Whole thing was like some bad nursury rhyme joke. BWAHAHAHA!"
That last "bwahaha" was from me, not Cathyann, and it was not a laugh.
"Look at you girly-ass bawling, boy. It's embarassing fer me just to see it," Cathyann said. She aproached the cell and grabbed the jail bars. They loudley squeaked as she ran her wet fists up and down their gloppy, ovorpainted surface. Sudenly more thundor and more intense rain exploaded from above and I started weeping more. I guessed I looked as pittiful as Junior does when he cries.
"Stay here till Stu comes back with the bail money!" I blubbored. Cathyann stared back at me like a stunned cow. With that look on her face as if she'd just rubbed her ass by misteak on the electified pasture fence, if youve ever seen such a thing.
"Stu ain't comin' back, Mister Miller. They done closed the lil' ol bridge down the street, with Stu on the other side of it. He won't swim back neither, cause there's POE-lice men and POE-lice cars all blockin..."
She talked some more but was drownded out by my weeping histerics. Cathyann stopped talking for a second, changed her tone and sternley scolded me like the oldor sister I never had, "Oh, grow up! So, yer gonna spend the night in jail. Ain't nothin' you kin do about it. Hell, that useless old boyfriend o'mine, DuWayne's done got thruogh a night in the tank two or three times. And HE survived..."
Cathyann began to rant and rave on this tirade agianst DuWayne, callin him a useless awful boyfreind and about how her probloms were so much worse than mine. And this really upset me. "
Cathyann saw this and stopped droning on about dumb old Duwayne and finaly hollored at me, "Oh, will you JUST be a MAN for once?"
"Aint no deputy here," said Cathyann, "But thar's someone droppin' a load in thet thar bitty ol' ladies restroom who needs to be lightin some danm matches..."
"That's her," I said. "Listen. I have a plan..." But Cathyann went back to her danm story.
"Do you know whut DuWayne did 'bout a month ago? At the very heihgt of passion, I sent Mister Romance into the bathroom to git me mah diaphram whut I'd fergot, and five minutes later when I had to kick the door in cause he ain't yet'd come out, thar he was fast asleep on the toilet readin' 'That's Outrageous!' in the 'Readers Digest'."
She angrily flopped into one of the metol folding chairs nearby with such a force that the plastic cap on its leg split like a walnut and skittored across the cement floor. At the end of the long steel bobchain that hung down over her big exposed, overhanging spare tire of fleshey waist was clipped the carpet cleaning company's photo ID card of DuWayne. Glancing forelornly at the picture of his dull glum face, she held the chain halfway and swung the card in the air in tight nervuos circles.
"DOOwayne kin kiss mah ass!"
It took a while to convinse her of what I planned, and I had to do it right. Cathyann is touchey and sensitive in her own way. Also her skull is thick and facts must first travol through a layer of pink fat before reaching her small, rather unfocused brain.
I said to her, "What woud happen if DuWayne got arrested?"
"BWAHAHAH!...He's alredy on got hisself a record. Let's see," she said, counting on her hotdog fingered hands, "Shoplifting, DUI, public disturbences--'cept, each time he got busted fer public disturbence it were allways my fault! BWAHAHAHA!"
I expliained in slow tones and small words my idea that she get herself arrested--right now--while pretending she was DuWayne.
She seemed very insulted. "Walter," she grunted in her deep hourse voice, "I'm a woman, not a man. How many times do I got to show you mah titties before you..."
She started to get loudor and loudor, and I tried to get her to just shut the hell up and listen. I told her to use DuWayne's ID card, the one she had right now arround her neck, and say that she was in fact, him.
Then, (I explianed), once the cops THOUGHT that she was "DuWayne," then "DuWayne" coud do something--perhaps start a disordorly scene right there in the county office, so she'd get locked up too: NOT as Cathyann, but as DuWayne.
"Duwayne woudnt dress like Britney Spears in these here Jennifer Lopez shorty hot pants and whutnot," she countored smarmily.
I shrugged in reply, "Well, mabye he woud. And mabye he woud be especially embarased if he was arrested dressed like that."
Cathyann frowned some more, but I think it was beginning to sink into her small brain. I said to her: Look: Here--this is my Dad's fake eyebrow. Put it undor your nose like a moustache. Then just sort of narroww your eyes a bit, and try to get that dopey half asleep look on your face like DuWayne." Cathyann took the eyebrouw and exammined it.
"DOOO-wayne don't have a mustache. He cain't grow one," she said. "He's one o'them lemony-peach-colored fellers who all they get is some hamster fuzz, an' a few wiggly butt hairs here an' thar that somhow grow out the face by mistake. Sorta like YOU Walter. BWAHAHAHA!"
With a sence of releif I saw her paste the fuzzy imposter on her roomy upper lip. Though DuWayne did not have a muostache, it was better this way, and provided an excuse as to why he did not look "exactley" like the face on the ID card. It was only then I noticed Cathyann reeling and sweatting a little bit more than usuol. She'd been drinking.
"Why am I wearin' a moustache again? TELL me, Walter?" she wheezed.
"It's not YOU wearing a mostache, Cathyann," I gently explianed in a childlike tone I might use while tryin to toilet train my three yearold nephew, "It's DuWayne who you are pretending to be."
"Duwayne's gonna git his ass arrested! So you dont have to spend the night alone in that thar cell! Great Idear!...Say, this here muostache feels crooked. I guess ol' DuWayne's too dumb to shave straight! BWAHAHAHA! BWAHAHAHA!