Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

 

82 - BURY MY BROKEN HEART

There was an invasion of strangers for every abiding resident of Broken Heart Park.  Real official-looking strangers in blue and gray uniforms was milling and moving about.  Every other stranger was some Kachinga brave barking orders and telling the officers what to do.  It looked like Little Big Horn meeting Bull Run if it wasn’t for all the trailers.  People was bent over everywhere driving little stakes into the ground and tying off squares with pieces of string.  They shouted and pounded, and dust flew every which way.  I stood out front of the First Coach holding a beer-soaked rag over my face just to get a filtered breath of fresh air.

The Silver Ghost couldn’t quite understand what was going on, but he assured me he’d be on 24/7 Orange Alert to make sure no digging would take place that he don’t get to halt immediately if it don’t pass his inspection.  I tried to tell him that some of the digging would be in an approved capacity, but I doubt the Silver Ghost caught my drift.  Just to keep things on the safe side the authorities confiscated his Second Shield service revolver.  Now the Silver Ghost and his superhero sidekick, Little Billy, took to carrying flyswatters around like drawn swords as they prowled the grounds.  Little Billy also kept some sharpened Popsicle sticks tucked under the elastic band of his dirt-stained underwear.  I am not sure Miss Dorothy would’ve approved this extra choice of armament.  I sure don’t envy the first officer whose duty it is to lay spade to soil while they was on watch.

Miss Dorothy was in her element.  She even took vacation time from her Night Nurse job down at St. Ides so that she could devote herself entirely to serving coffee and individual packaged treats to the strong sweaty male invaders surveying our home.

Owen had taken off somewhere to work down his debt to society, and Fine Lady Babbs Montez simply vanished into thin air.  (This reminded me of the disappearance of my little sister, Baby Harmonica, who’d vanished from the face of Earth just as soon as I found her.  I never had a chance to tell her about what had happened to our shared Mama, or share my Robinson Caruso stock certificate with her.  I wondered what cruel fate befell my baby sister.)

Anyhow, out in the driveway a bunch of Kachingas had set up a table and a big ol’ map of Broken Heart Park that they studied real careful and slow.  Square by square by square, all that was left to us was a narrow walkway to our front stoops and the dusty driveway in and out.  I used to believe that Broken Heart Park would be my home as long as the interstate ran and them piss-lizards continued to smile, but I ain’t so sure of nothin’ no more.  The interstate still ran, that’s for sure, but piss-lizards was a rarity.

With all the goings on, most of our little community was so scared and confused they all just stayed inside and away from official pry’n eyes.  But we was used to that....

“Listen to this,” Maggie yelled as she sat at our fold-down kitchenette table with her brand new laptop computer.  She shouted, “Oh!  My!  God!”

I must admit, my Maggie panting in a tight blouse is a lovely thing to behold.

“This says your holdings are junk, and you’re totally worthless.”

I stepped inside.  “My name’s on the Internet?”

“No.”  Maggie stared at her screen and read:  “The RobbinsYUZ Corporation announced today that it would be restating earnings for the past five fiscal years after revealing that the YUZ used-calculator division was little more than an elaborate Ponzi scheme.  A spokeman for RobbinsYUZ, Accounts Receivable clerk Daniel Dorkman said, ‘Why we’re all shocked, of course.  I mean, this is pretty aggressive accounting, isn’t it?’  As usual, the market reacted nervously, and RobbinsYUZ lost almost all of its capitalization in one day, making the corporation a Wall Street laughingstock and, literally, a penny-stock.  As of tomorrow, RobbinsYUZ will be traded over the counter on the Outer-Slovakian Stock Exchange.  At press time an emergency meeting of the Board of Directors of RobbinsYUZ had been called at The Palm Desert Country Club.”

Maggie suddenly stopped reading and her shoulders sagged, the brightness dimmed in her pretty brown eyes, her arms fell limp by her side.  “You’re flat broke.”

I reached out and touched her delicate shoulder, “Well, it ain’t so bad.”  I tried to cheer her, “Even if my shares are worth a penny each, I still got millions of ‘em ain’t I?”

Maggie sighed, “Once a stock hits Outer-Slovakia, the bottom is endless.”

“I’ll still get my dividends,” I consoled her some more.  “How much is that dividend again, times a million?”

Maggie hung her head low, “Outer-Slovakian stocks don’t pay dividends.”

“Honey, don’t worry.  With a little luck I’ll think of something.”  I grabbed my beer-drenched rag and walked outside to ponder on this development.  Just as I descended my steps and turned, I was tripped up by one of them strings strung out in squares all over the place.  Next thing I knew I was sitting on my backside in the middle of a square, feeling something sharp jabbing into my left butt cheek, and praying it wasn’t no damn Injun artifact adding injury to insult and another emergency trip to St. Ides.