Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

 

74 - A NIGHT I’LL NEVER FORGET

At Broken Heart Park, loved ones and trash got one thing in common:  they both gotta be taken out every once and awhile.

While the crowd stood around enjoying coffee and eating sweet confections compliments of Miss Dorothy, the dead bodies of four people lay underfoot and getting stiffer by the minute.  All of a sudden an ambulance, a hearse, and the Minister’s station wagon showed up.

The Minister was the first to get out of his vehicle.  He walked up to claim the body.  “Where is it?”

Maggie pointed to the lifeless body which was once the Minister’s Son.

Bending over and giving a little grunt, the Minister hauled the body up by the scruff of the neck and seat of the pants.  “First dresses, now uniforms,” he tossed the body into the back of his vehicle like a sack of potatoes.  “It’s sick, I tell you.”

The Minister climbed back into his car after retrieving his dead son.  Maggie went over to console him.  I’m not sure what Maggie said, but I heard The Minister say something about compost and to drop by the Parsonage along about tomato season.

“Over here boys,” a cop motioned to the men from the coroner’s office.  “This one is some guy called Philpot, also known as Ol’ Jack.  You can do him up cheap unless we find some family.  And this one’s Sheriff Alan Allen.  Proper respect, boys, proper respect.  And finally, over here, is Deputy Perro,” the cop pointed.  “God,” he shook his head from side to side, “I sure don’t look forward to calling his wife.  She’s such a bitch.”

As the paramedics prepared to take Joe away a policeman intervened.  “And you,” he pointed at Joe.  “Make yourself available.  You may or may not have murdered anyone, but you still damaged a uniform belonging to the Sheriff’s Department, so I’m thinking there’s gonna be some kind of fine.  You understand?”  Joe Plato nodded his bleeding head and disappeared into the back of the waiting ambulance.

The cop pushed his hat back and scratched his head as he surveyed the scene.  “Okay, guess I better gather evidence and secure the area,” he said to no one in particular, as he reached down and grabbed the last two cupcakes off the tray.  With a mouth full of cupcake he asked, “Anyone got some yellow tape for marking the area around the garden?”

“I have some duct tape in my car,” Maggie offered.

Miss Dorothy came by with a fresh pot of coffee and another tray of sweets, and asked me, “Warm up?”

“Don’t mind if I do,”  I let her refill my cup one more time.  Since she was just standing there I felt like I had to say something polite, so I acknowledged her generosity with some small talk.  “Joe Plato told me you moved the kid back and planted this here garden so the boy would remember his dear Mama,” I said.  “That’s real nice.  You know, his Mama and I was very close friends once upon a time.  But last I seen of Edna’s filthy little burger boy, he was a sad piece of work.”

Miss Dorothy smiled the smile of a proud foster parent, “Once I got my hands on Little Billy and got him washed up, and stopped his diet of paint chips, his whole attitude changed.  He even managed to expand his vocabulary.  It seemed right to bring him back to his trailer court home, and now it’s home sweet home for the both of us.”

There was a sudden rustling from the bushes behind us, and out stepped Owen Purty.

“Howdy everybody,” Owen smiled real goofy.  “A little bit of excitement going on tonight, I guess?”  He looked at Maggie, but Maggie kept eyeballing Christos Kartone.

Not two seconds later the bushes shook again, and out stepped a little boy holding a yellow inner tube.  He walked up to Miss Dorothy while maintaining a steady glare at Owen.

“Little Billy!”  Miss Dorothy reached out to the boy.  “What in the world are you doing out of bed so late?” she scolded her charge.  “Well, since you’re up anyway, look who’s here, a neighbor and friend who’s now our certified Park Manger.  Can you say hello to the man?”

I bent down to be eye level with the boy.  “Hey, Little Billy,” I ruffled his hair.  “Recognize me?”

He looked me right in the eye as he pulled away, and he flipped me off.

With the coffee and snacks all gone, everyone in our fine community of trailer homes wandered off to bed.  I just stood there enjoying the moment.  It made me proud all over being their new Park Manager, with Maggie by my side helping me out in a crisis.  Maggie was already waving her arms and expressing herself to Christos Kartone about the business of managing this place of my dreams.

Over by the bushes Owen was busy chasing Little Billy around and around, trying to get a broken piece of a flowerpot out of the child’s hands before there was another fatality.  Miss Dorothy just hummed real sweet, all bent over, picking up empty cups and wrappers people had littered on the ground.  I couldn’t remember when I ever felt so much at home.  It was even pleasant seeing Little Billy again.  There was a time when I’d never paid no attention to that brat except to be aggravated by his antics.  But the way he was running and jumping around while Owen chased him, Little Billy was a joy to watch.  I wondered what it was going to be like to be a father myself.

I swear there ain’t nothing like a Bakersfield night.  But something was missing.  I sniffed at the warm air.  I sniffed again.  The acrid odor of piss-lizards in heat should’a filled my nostrils, but I couldn’t smell nothin’.  I guess all them Balloonitae bounty hunters did a thorough job.  As I continued to sniff at the air Maggie came on over, along with Miss Dorothy and Little Billy.

“Maggie,” I asked, “when was the last time you seen a live piss-lizard?”

But Miss Dorothy waggled a finger at me in gentle reprimand.  “No potty mouth in front of the child, please.  I’ve tried to teach him to say pee-pee lizard.”  Miss Dorothy cradled an arm around Little Billy’s shoulders and escorted him back to their home.

Then I heard the unmistakable growl of Christos Kartone.  “Yo!”

My head snapped around.

“Staff Meetin’ tomorrow at ten.”  The Boss strained to squeeze his hulking mass into the pickup.  “Be dere!” he shouted at me, as he and his boys peeled outta Broken Heart Park.