Eye Ahem Da Guvner; Chapter Ten

 

Chapter 10:

 

     The report came in from a drive-in on the west side of Prong. Detective Roger Girder was only ¾ of the way through his list of motels and hotels in the Prong area, to see if his three suspects had checked in. So far, he hadn’t had any luck, but now there was a report of a blue 4x4 truck that had attempted to order some food at a place called Jared’s Surf and Turf Drive-In, the driver had become enraged and backed the truck right into the place. Also, they’d recieved several complaints of a huge blue truck driving erratically. The description of the three occupants matched his suspects’ to a tee, and the account seemed to verify the report that they had switched vehicles. He would have bet his uncle’s eye teeth that the three suspects would be hundreds of miles away by now, but apparantely, they were even more moronic as he’d been led to believe.

 

 

     Earle Edgar pulled on the one of the stocking masks they had all brought with them, and led Jimmy and Oren across the lighted parking lot towards the store’s entrance. They’d left the truck blocks away, and walked here.

     Jimmy was shaking his head. “Earle Edgar, this is stupid; the last thing we need to do right now is draw any attention to ourselves!”

     “Wel, beeleeve mi, Eye noe stupid, an dis aint itt! Awal Eye wawant iz sumpin ta eet, an dis playce sayad dayy haav gud chikin.”

     “Yeah, but to rob them? I think it’s an insane idea; what do you think, Oren?”

    Oren caught the murderous glance he recieved from Earle Edgar and quickly replied, “Oh, I could use something to eat, and maybe a little something to drink.”

      Jimmy wasn’t going to take part in Earle Edgar’s madness, but had come along hoping to talk some sense into him, but he could now see that it wasn’t going to work. “Well, you can count me out; I’ll not be a part of your moronic little scheme; this is lunacy! I’ll just wait across the street at that candy shop. Just meet me here after you’ve ditched the cops.”

     “Awel rite, weel dewit bye arselves, butt donut asek mi fer a taset ov mi fuud wen iyat luuks sew dam tasti; cawse Eyema eetin da hole dam ting; cayaz yer two mutch ov a pansi ta roweb aniting!”

     “All I’m saying is that we don’t need to steal the food. We should just buy it.”

     “Bye itt? Eyema hungari, an Eyeaint screewen arowned ani moor. Letts goe, Oran, chikin-sheit heer iz two chikin-sheit ta graweb wat hee wawants; heed rayther payafer itt!”

    

     Oren pulled the stocking mask down over his face, and got ready to accompany Earle Edgar. Jimmy started across the street to the candy shop.

 

 

     Prong Detective Roger Girder listened to the tale told by Benny Fairman, the employee at Jared’s Surf and Turf Drive-In, with a look outwardly of cool and calm, but inside he was a bug-eyed freak. He couldn’t believe the level of morons he was dealing with. First, they had been stunningly-stupid by hanging around town, instead of doing what any moron with ½ a brain would have done; gotten far away from town; as fast as possible. Second, that they had stolen the most-visible vehicle imaginable to drive around in. And third, that they had been assinine enough to absolutely trash the drive-in. The lack of thinking was amazing to him.

     Fairman was saying, “...then they plowed right through that wall!”

     Girder asked, “Other than their descriptions, do you remember any other detail that might help us apprehend these guys?”

     “Well, the guy that was driving sounded like he had something wrong with him; you know, in his brain.”

     “How do you mean?”

     “Oh, things like ordering a kids meal, and when I told him that, he then changed his order to our family-sized meal. When I told him that, he turned abusive and backed up right into the place. Mel, our cook, was just damned lucky he didn’t get killed!”

 

 

     Earle Edgar and Oren barged into Sap’s Grocery Store, brandishing their squirt guns. Earle Edgar shouted, “Owakay, weer robben da playac; ifn nobuddy muuvs, weel bee piecaful, butt ifn anybuddy tryes tew bee sum kynd ov heerow, den del bee showt fuul ov led!”

     “Yeah, like a number two pencil!” added Oren. He was feeling trapped; this idea of Earle Edgar’s was insane, but if he hadn’t have gone along, Earle Edgar had made it perfectly clear what would happen. Therefore, he had resigned himself to taking part in what very well be their undoing.

     The clerk behind the cash register pleaded, “Take my money, just don’t hurt me!”

     Earle Edgar replied, “Lowek, nobuddy hayest tew bee opined uwep lyk an friken suutkase; juss hawand ovar yer muny, a*s wel a*s an cuple ov yer threepeece chikin dinars!”

     “What? I don’t think I heard you correctly. You really want two three-piece chicken dinners?”

     “Wat ar ya, haryad ov heeren? Yeya, dats wat eye sayad!”

     “Maybe we’d better forget the food and book out of here!” said Oren.

     “Owa, Eye donut tink wi nede ta huri; beesydes, dis iz fayast fuud, eya, heya, heya!” 'Ifn owenli Jimy culd heere mi noww!' he thought.

 

     Finally, carrying the money in one hand, and his bag with the chicken dinner in the other, Earle Edgar, followed closely by Oren Trough, started out the door. “Saya, dis chikin smels mitee fyn.; noww ifn Jimy wuz heer, heed sayy,

     Oka, dis chikin smels mitee fyn, butt heeiz nowa chikin-sheit, sew Eyll haav ta sayitt forem.”

     Oren, who was also carrying his bag of food, hated to admit Earle Edgar had been right about this robbery and Jimmy had been wrong, but that’s how it was starting to look.

     They were approaching their truck.

     “Yeah, this smells like some wonderful stuff,” Oren said, “I must apologize to you. I was sure we were asking for trouble with this idea of yours, but it sure looks like I was wrong, and you were right. I’m sorry for doubting you, Earle Edgar!”

     “Yeya, itt nevur payes tew bee an payanzi. Dis wurld iz devidid inta too difarant kynds ov peepal; doze dat tayaks wat dayy wawant, and Jimys kynd; timed mowses dat git dare buyuts hayandid tew dem; fer an wile Eye taught yew whir won ov da lattor, butt yew aiyant tew baya---”

     Just then, a policeman who had been hiding behind the next-door vehicle, leapt out, raised a taser gun, and shouted, “Alright, we’ve got you surrounded; drop your weapon and surrender!”

     The shock of being outsmarted hit Earle Edgar hard, but he didn’t hesitate. “Lyk hel Eye wil; cowem an git mi, diyks!” and he threw Oren in front of him, and it was he, not Earle Edgar, who took the full blast of the taser gun. He dropped to the ground and started flopping around like some sort of demented fish.

     “Yyyooouuu’’’rrreee aaa bbbaaassstttaaarrrddd!” he managed between flying bits of foaming saliva that shot from his mouth.

 

 

     Oren's electricity-induced rant was yelled at the fleeing back of Earle Edgar. He just had to get away; he’d quickly recoverered from the shock of suddenly being surprised by a policeman. He’d thrown Oren in front of him to shield him from the taser blast, ripped of his pantyhose, dropped the chicken, and ran down the street, then around the corner, and now he was running between houses and across several more streets; surely he had lost his pursuer by now.

     Yeya, Eye probly haav, an donut kawl mi Shurely!  he thought.

     Damn Jimmy anyway; now, the first thing he thought of was how Jimmy would find his thoughts hilarious. Now was not the time for him to be distracted by lame thoughts; he needed to be at the top of his game. He had to keep a clear head.

     An cee-threw brane; nowa dat wood bee sumpin tew cee. Thare Eye goe agin, stowep dis sheit!

     He shook his head to clear it of the Jimmy-inspired image in his mind of a see-through head, and forced his mind back to the immediate problem.

 

 

     Detective Roger Girder had been alerted by his boss about the report that had come in soon after he ‘d left Jared’s Surf and Turf. The suspects’ vehicle had been spotted parked outside of Sap’s Grocery Store, by the fry cook at Jared’s, who was returning home after the robbery attempt of that place. He flipped a U-turn, and drove towards the store as fast as he could. This was the break he’d been looking for. The b******s were indeed moronic enough to not be lying low, and where just waiting for him to swoop in and arrest them. It made his job that much easier not having to guess where they’d be; the idiotic criminals were advertising it. How easy was thi---," suddenly, he had to slam on his brakes as a dump truck pulled out of a construction site and blocked the entire roadway. He knew he was going much too fast to stop, so he cranked the wheel hard left and went airborn over the curb and plowed into a garage. As his police car travelled through the empty garage and burst though the back wall, the whole building sagged inward, and toppled.

 

     Detective Girder got out of the vehicle, and stormed out past the angry homeowner who’d came running at the loud crash, and who now stood staring slack-jawed at the destruction to his detatched garage caused by Girder’s airborn police car. Then he went ballistic when he confronted the dump truck driver.

     “What the hell was that? Don’t you even look before you pull out onto a street?”

     “Yeah, I look, but I don’t expect a car to be moving near the speed of ligh---”

     But he finished his explanation to thin air, because Girder was already running back towards his police car; which was still running, apparently undamaged by its trip through the garage. The homeowner yelled,

     “Hey, where am I supposed to park? Someone’s going to pay for this! It’s destruction of private property; I’m damn lucky I wasn’t in---”

     Detective Girder said out of his rolled-down window as he was backing out of what was left of the garage, “I’m in pursuit of dangerous felons. I’m sorry I can’t stick around, but if you’ll just call The Prong Police and lodge a claim of an accident caused by one of their detectives, you’ll have your concerns dealt with.”

     “Yeah, you bet I’ll call; can I have your name and badge number so I can lodge a claim?”

     “Oh yes, of course. My name is Walt Wizzerooski, and my badge number is 5. Just tell them that Detective Wizzer, badge number 5, told you to call in and make a claim for property damage.”

     He was driving an unmarked car, so the number wasn’t visible. He had to hope the homeowner wasn’t smart enough to write down his licence number or remember what he looked like, and from the looks of him, it didn’t appear that he had anything to worry about on that score. He couldn’t afford another at-fault accident on his record, as he’d been warned that one more, and he’d lose his job. Hence the fake name and badge number. He hated to do this to the poor schmuck, but better that guy than him.

 

 

     He slammed it into drive, and once again he was on his way. The suspects were probably long gone by this time, but hopefully, he’d learn something that would aid him in his bid to apprehend these moron b******s!

 

     As he pulled into Sap’s Grocery Store’s parking lot, he noticed the big blue truck still parked outside. He was in luck! He parked his unmarked police car next to the suspects’ truck, and was just stepping out the door to enter the store, when he saw two people leaving the store, carrying bags of food, and wearing stocking masks over their faces. He quickly grabbed his taser gun out of the police car and ran to hide behind the car parked beside the suspects’ truck. He briefly wondered where the 3rd suspect was, but didn’t have much time to ponder that; as the two where approaching rapidly. He slipped the taser gun from its holster, and kept hidden for a couple more steps; then leapt from his hiding spot, shouting,

     “Alright, we’ve got you surrounded; drop your weapons and surrender!”

     The big one yelled something and he pushed the smaller one directly at him, and he had no choice but to fire; he felt he was in immenent danger.

 

      The moronic-looking suspect turned and fled. Girder checked the skinnier one to make sure that he was still breathing, for by this time he was unconscious. He had swallowed his tongue, so Girder flipped him over onto his stomach, and pounded him on the back until he gasped and started breathing again. Then he ran to the corner of the street around which the suspect had disappeared. He stopped abruptly, for the guy could have gone many directions to escape, and there was no sign of him. He walked back to where his unconscious taser victim was lying on the ground.

 

     Oren Trough’s world suddenly came from darkness to blinding light. The first thing he saw was a stranger slapping him in the face. He shot out his hand and stopped the oncoming blow.

     “What in the hell are you slapping me for? Stop it!”

     “Well, welcome back, I was starting to get a little worried about you. I was shouting, “Wake up, friend!” but I got tired of shouting, so I just kept slapping you.”

     “Who are you, and more importantly, who am I?”

     “My name is Roger Girder, and I’m a detective here in Prong; and as for you, you match the description of one of the 2 unidentified suspects with and Earle Edgar Knekk. We don’t know your identity yet, but it’s just a matter of time, and we will. Once the taser effects wear off, you should be able to recall events and tell us what’s your name, and exactly what happened.”

     “Like what happened?”

     “Well, like what you were doing with that judas.”

     “Judas?”

     “Yeah, the big cowardly Earle Edgar Knekk, who used you to shield him so he wouldn’t be touched by the taser.”

     “Wha---,” suddenly, Oren remembered; remembered how Earle Edgar had sacrificed him so he could get away. Why, that scumbucket; all he could think about was getting even with him. “Now I remember, and I might as well tell you the truth. I’m a private detective named Oren Trough, and at first I wanted to catch the others, but then I was talked into joining them; but then Earle Edgar turned on me.”

     “There were three of you; so tell me the other guy’s name.”

     He had no trouble ratting out Earle Edgar, but Jimmy was a different story. “Ah, his name is Sven Ruckus; yeah, that is his name!”  Now, back off and give me no more of the third degree, Oren thought.

     Sven Ruckus, thought Detective Girder “So, it’s Earle Edgar Knekk, Oren Trough, and Sven Ruckus, is that right?”

     “Yeah; his name is Sven Ruckus, but his he hated it when his mamma called him Late for Dinner! Eh, ha ha!”

     “What’s with all the nonsense phases?”

     “What? I’m afraid you lost me there; like a blind men looking for hidden treasure!”

 

 

     Earle Edgar parked the big blue 4X4 truck several blocks away, and hiked to the candy store where Jimmy was waiting. He’d just grab him, and then they’d skip town. He paused outside the candy store, and looked across the street to the grocery store they had knocked over. Going back to so close to the crime scene wasn’t too bright, but he didn’t want to run out on Jimmy. The place was surrounded by police cars. He stood for a long time staring across at the parking lot. Then he noticed what looked like a detective walk out of the grocery store and gaze across the street, seeming to stare right at him. He turned and hurried inside. He wanted to grab Jimmy and get the hell out of there. He quickly spotted Jimmy at one of the tables, and rushed over.

     “Jimy, weeva goet ta git owet ov heer!”

     “Well, hello there, master-thief; where’s Oren?”

     “Iyats an loweng stori. Cowem owen; da truks parikt clowes bye, and Eye tink da poeleese ar gowena exx pannand dar seerch ta surowendin biznuses ta cee wat daye mite haav ceen. Eyela tel yew abowet por Oran wiyel wi weer wawkin.”

     “Fine; lead on.”

     Earle Edgar didn’t move, and Jimmy said,

     “Come on Earle Edgar; I said, “Let’s go!”

     “Owa, syns wen doyas “leed owen” meen letts goe?”

     Once again, Jimmy marvelled at the man’s stupidity; “Its only a figure of speech. I simply meant let’s go!”

 

 

     They had walked a couple of blocks. Jimmy wondered aloud about Oren. Earle Edgar sighed, and said,

     “Da poeleese gowet hym. Eye towld hym ta ruwen, buwet hee diyadnt, evun tho Eye tryd tew mayak hym. Eye fineli haad ta leev hym an saav misef!”

     “What; he’s been caught? We have to find out what jail he’s being held in and figure out a way to spring him!”

     “Owa; dats an teerabal iyadea; ifn wi triy aniting liik dat, weel bee cawat tew!”

     Earle Edgar was panicking at the thought of Jimmy finding out the about his treachery.

     “But I think we owe it to Oren.”

     “Awe, ittwood bee betar ta juss leeve tings alowen. Oran wuz an guud frend, butt noww Eye tink ifnhe wuz heer, heed saay fer uss ta luuk owet fer aesefs.”

     “Well, you can walk away; I’m going to help him!”

     Sheit! Earle Edgar thought, Eyea shud juss leeve; wel, mayabee Eye kan tink ofa wayy tew stowep Jimy frum fynden owet da truuth.  “Owa, beeleeve mi, Eyema juss a*s gunghole a*s yew ta hep mi frend Oran. Sew yew kan cownet owen mi!”

 

 

     Oren Trough had cut a deal. He was supposed to set a trap for the other two, but his mind was racing about how he could warn Jimmy, but still put the hurt on Earle Edgar Nekk. He had agreed to a lot less prison time in exchange for handing his other two accomplishes over to the police. The thought of the look of bewilderment, then rage on the face of Earle Edgar made him smile, but he didn’t want to see those same looks reflected in the eyes of Jimmy Reno. There must be a way to implicate Earle Edgar, but not Jimmy.

 

 

     Earle Edgar and Jimmy had risked returning to their rented rooms at The Lucky Stiff Motel, to gather their things, for it wouldn’t be long before Oren cracked under pressure and gave up the location where they were staying. They where busy packing up their stuff, when the phone rang.

     “Donut anser da ting!” said Earle Edgar.

     “I’ll just see who it is; it might be an emergency. I very much doubt if it is the police, they would advertise that they were coming in. I’ll just pick up the reciever and listen. If the police have somehow found this place, and know we’re here, I’ll just hang up.”

     Jimmy picked up the ringing phone, and Earle Edgar grabbed their suitcase in one hand, and grabbed the doornob with the other, so they could make a quick getaway. Jimmy held the reciever to his ear and said hello.

     “This is Norman at the front desk; I have an Oren Trough on the line. He wishes to speak to Jimmy Reno.”

     “Woo iz iyat?” asked Earle Edgar. Jimmy put his hand over the telephone and replied,

     “It’s a call from Oren!”

     Earle Edgar felt the icy-cold grip of fear and panic. “Hayang uwep; itts probley an triyak!”

     “Nonsense; I’m going to answer it,” then he said into the phone, “Put him through.”

     Jimmy heard a familiar voice come on the line,

     “Hello, Jimmy?”

     “Oren; we heard you where, ah, out of circulation.”

     “Ah, I had a little engine trouble, but now the car’s running smoothly again.”

     “Wats hee sayen?” inturrupted Earle Edgar.

     “Just a minute Oren; Earle Edgar is wondering what you are saying.”

     He put his hand over the phone, telling Earle Edgar, “He’s saying he’s had a little car trouble, but now it’s running smoothly again; that’s...”

     “Diyad ya tel hym hees nott drivin aniting? Eye alwayes wunderd abowet hyes griyap owen reealety, an dis juss comferms mi whirrys. Da fuul tinks hees drivin an kar!”

     “It’s code, Earle Edgar; he’s telling us that he was caught, but got away!”

     “Owa.”  Earle Edgar just had to keep Oren from telling Jimmy that he had sacrificed Oren in an effort to save himself.

     “Sure, we’ll meet you at Nagshead Racetrack here in Prong,” Jimmy went on. “We’ll be there around 3.pm, and we’ll meet you at the north entrance....,”

     Earle Edgar interrupted, “Noe, Jimy; wat heez telin uss iz probbley puer buwelsheit; Eyema telen ya, dis ting iz an traap!"

     “No it isn’t; Oren’s a stand-up guy; he would never sell us out. That would be total crap; anyway,” then he said into the reciever, “like I was saying, we’ll meet you at the north entrance at 3pm. Yeah, it’ll be good to see you, too. Goodbye Oren.”

     “Grate, noww wee ar wyde opan fer bayad sheit; amembor, Eyea warened ya!”

     “Oh, Earle Edgar, you’re looking for the boogie man behind every rock!”

     “Eyea aint luuken fer dyik, espesiely sum duud, beehined evin won rok. Yew ar skreewed inn da hed!”

     “I was trying to say you see a conpiracy everywhere.”

     “Saay wat ya frikin meen!”

     “Okay; why do you think Oren’s going to turn us in? I think you’re just a wee bit paranoid.”

     “Wats dat apposed ta meen?”

     “It means I think you’re overreacting a little.”

     “Owa; sew noww Eyema ovareaktin?”  Earle Edgar responded angrily, but inside he was thinking, Howam Eye goen ta kepe Jimy frum fynden owet da truuth?'

     “Yeah, you are!”

     He could tell that to argue any more was to arouse Jimmy’s suspicions, so he decided to go along, for now, and he’d think of something later; after all, his was an extraordinary mind that became more focused when the pressure was on.

     “Wel, Eye suure howep yer rite, an Eyema rong; lettuce goe ta meat Oran: aftar awl, Eye mis da gie tew.”

 

 

     Oren Trough was dreading this meeting. He had yet to figure out a way of dorking Earle Edgar, but not Jimmy. His mind thought desperately, but he had to go to meet them.  Something will come up, but until then I’ll have to go along with them and not alarm them, like a new house, that I’m about to sell them down the river, he thought.

     He wanted to separate Jimmy from Earle Edgar, but so far he had no clue about how.

 

     At quarter to 3, he walked from the police station, looking like a man carrying a sad sack, toward The Nagshead Racetrack.

 

 

     Earle Edgar followed Jimmy through the entrance of Nagshead Racetrack feeling like a man on his way to his own execution. He had thought and thought, but he couldn’t come up with a credible reason as to why they couldn’t keep the meeting with Oren. In desperation, he blurted,

     “Aya, Eyema afraad weer nott goen ta bee abal ta meat Oran; Eye awe, awe, juss amembored, Eyema nott fealen wel; wee nede ta reant an mowtel ruum, inn kayas Eye zuuk!”

     Jimmy whirled around and replied, “Oh, you forgot you don’t feel well? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re, for some reason, trying to avoid meeting Oren.”

     Earle Edgar answered, with indignation he did not feel, “Ar yew kraysy? Eyema sew luuken foreward ta ceein Oran agane; butt Eye donut feal awet awl wel, an Eyema afrade Eyel progektyle-vomet evary friken ware; butt Eyela juss haav ta puwet uwep wid da spinnes, kaws Eye reeli, reeli, wawent ta cee hym!”

 

 

     They had paid for admission, which was but a mere pittence because you were encouraged to bet heavily on the horse races, and were anxiously scanning the crowd that came through the gate; both for reasons that were very different. Jimmy was anxious to see Oren again and renew their friendship. Earle Edgar was anxious because he just knew that Oren would be pissed at him, and would tell Jimmy of his deceit.

     Just then, a familiar voice said, “Hi ho, fellas!”

     Earle Edgar was too busy planning his getaway to hear or answer at first, but Jimmy saw and heard Oren, and replied,

     “Don’t tell me; let me guess!”

     Earle Edgar then said, “Itts Oran, Jimy!”

     Well, no s**t! Jimmy thought quickly. “I know who it is; how are you Oren?”

 

 

     Oren Trough slipped through the turn-style and into Nagshead Racetrack. He had just come from The Prong Police Station, where he’d been briefed by FBI Agent Clyde Oil on his plea deal. The FBI would knock his arrest down in exchange for Oren basically agreeing to rat out his two accomplices. He still had yet to figure out a way to give up Earle Edgar without giving up Jimmy, but he was still thinking on that, and was supposed to meet them, earn their trust, and set them up so the FBI would be able to swoop in and arrest them. Then he spotted two familiar figures; the rail-thin shape of Jimmy, and the idiotic figure of Earle Edgar.

     “Hi-ho, fellas!” he said, as he steeled himself to betray them.

     Jimmy replied in kind.

     Before he could respond, he heard Earle Edgar's moronic voice cutting in to the conversation with a totally moronic comment.

     Oren gazed upon the moronic face of Earle Edgar, and suddenly it was all he could do to stifle a laugh. It was hard for him to believe that anyone could possibly be so stupid, but there stood Earle Edgar, totally unaware of the ridiculousness of what he’d just said.

     “Hello; it’s great to see you,” he said.

     Earle Edgar didn’t seem at all happy to see him, though. It was no wonder, after what he’d done.

     “Hello, Oren; it’s great to see you, too!”

     Earle Edgar managed to say, “Yeya, juss grate!”

     He still stared at Oren; looking like he wanted to run.

     Oren thought, let the traitorous b*****d run; although with his conditioning, running’s probably too strong of a word; let the b*****d walk!

     “So, Oren; tell us how you got away,” Jimmy then said.

     “Owa, da firss rayac iss juss abowet ta staret. Wee shud huri an playce ar betts,” inturrupted Earle Edgar. Inside he was thinking, Eyeva juss goweta kepe Oran fruum blayaben da truuth ta Jimy!

     “Yeah, I guess we’d better do that.”

 

 

     They had made their wagers, and now were sitting in their seats to watch the race. Oren was watching the face of Earle Edgar.

     “Say Jimmy, let me tell you what happ�",”

     Sure as hell, Earle Edgar inturrupted by saying, “Eyema thursti; iz aniwon eles?”

     Jimmy told Earle Edgar no thanks.

     “Sure, I’ll take one, ” replied Oren.

     “WelEye donut tink thayl juss leyat yew taak won; yer gowenta haav ta payy fer iyet,” Earle Edgar then replied.

     What?  “It was just an expression,” said Oren.

     “Owa, suur,” he answered, and he called out to the vender selling beer, “Haya, Mayak, weel tayak tew uwp hear!”

     As the vender made his way up the stairs, Earle Edgar told Oren,

     “Itts too-fifety.”

     Oren dug in his pocket and found a 5 dollar bill. He handed it to Earle Edgar, saying,

     “There you go.”

     Earle Edgar stared at the money and said, “Butt iyets owenly tuw-fifeti; dis iz an fiiv; dat’s tew mutch.”

     Oren looked once more with disbelief at the sloping forehead of Earle Edgar. Was this guy for real?  “I know, but I don’t have exact change.”

     Try to follow this, he thought; “When the vender takes the money, he’ll give you change. Then you’ll hand it to me.”

     “Owa, yeya; Eyea fergowet abowet da chaang deel!”

 

 

     With beers in hand, Earle Edgar and Oren joined Jimmy in screaming for their horse.

     “Come on, Wind Chime, run!” yelled Jimmy.

     “Come on, Uncle Warbags run!” shouted Oren.

     “Cowem owen, Numbor Thre; ruwen lyke da friken glew facteri bowes iz chaysin ya ta ewend yer misarabal liif!” screamed Earle Edgar.

     “Number three is called Charlie’s Horse,” Jimmy said quickly.

     “Yeya, ruwen ya basterd!”

     The three horses picked by Earle Edgar, Jimmy, and Oren thundered down the stretch to a 1-2-3 last place showing.

     “Oh, that’s too bad!” said Jimmy.

     “Maybe next time!” said Oren.

     “Sheit, sheit, an dubal sheit,” shouted Earle Edgar, “dis iz suked!”

     “Well, that’s too bad; now why don’t I finish telling you what happened?” Oren said to Jimmy.

     “Wayet; Eyea culd suur yews anutter beir. Wi donut wee awl haav won; Eyel bye!”

     “Sure, now I guess I’ll have one,” replied Jimmy, for the sun was beating down on them.

     “What the hell; like a blind gambler said, "I can't see what I've got to lose!” said Oren.

     “Haya, uwep heer, frend!” shouted Earle Edgar, glad to have any sort of distraction to keep Oren from talking.

     The beer vender hiked up the stairs, until he stood before them. “What’ll you have, gentlemen?”

     Earle Edgar got a confused look on his face, and replied, “Beir; duw!”

     Jimmy shook his head again in disgust, and said to Earle Edgar, “He means how many beers?”

     “Wel, wi donut hee juss ayask uss howw mani beirs, inn sted ov tawlken inn rydles an makin uss gess?”

     “Because he did ask us how many.”

     “Buelsheit; hee asskt uss wat weed lyke; nott howa mani. Howa stoopid dew yew tink Eye ayem?”

     “Do you really want me to answer that?”

     “Awl Eye kno is sumbuddys stoopid, an iyat ayant mi!”

     Oh really?  thought Jimmy.

     Meanwhile, the beer vender wanted his money. “Well?”

     “Wel wat?” answered Earle Edgar.

     “How many beers do you want?”

     “Noww; dew ya cee howw mutch eezyer juss asken iz da speekin inn riyedals? Weel taak thre, pleeze.”

     The confused beer vender took the plastic off of three beers and said, “That’ll be $7.50.”

     “Sevin fifeti? Howa mutch ar da friken tings?”

     “Same as before, $2.50 apiece”

     “Eye neew dat, butt $7.50 fer awel ov dem? Fer dat pryce, da dam tings muss bee mayd frum liqewed goweld!”

     He slammed $8.00 into the vender’s hand, and said sarcastically, “Dare yew goe, yew robben basterd!”

     “Would you like the change?” replied the vender; hoping to get a little something extra for his efforts; after all, he’d had to climb many flights of stairs to reach the three guys.

     “Yeya, yew owame sum muny.”

     As the spurned beer vender gave Earle Edgar his fifty cents and started to make his way down the steps, Jimmy told Oren,

     “Go ahead and tell me what happened.”

     Oren once again started to tell Jimmy what had happened, but before he got his first sentence out, he was interrupted.

     Earle Edgar, having raised the beer to his lips to take a sip; instead chugged it until it was gone. “Howeled uwp dare, mistar beir mayan; Eyema dun wid dis won, an Eyel taak anuthar.” Anything to keep Oren from telling Jimmy the truth.

     The angry beer vender turned around and stomped his way back to where the three men sat, and sarcastically said, “Why so slow?”

     He handed Earle Edgar another beer and said, “2.50”

     After Earle Edgar had paid, he angrily turned and started back down the stairs. Once again, Jimmy told Oren to go ahead. Once again, Oren started to speak, and once again, Earle Edgar interrupted, then guzzled the beer and shouted to the descending beer vender,

     “Hay thera miistar beir mawan; Eyema dun agane; kan Eye pleeze haav anutter?”

     By this time, the vender was getting madder and madder. He stared towards the bottom of the stairs, and struggled to get his anger under control; but his efforts failed.

     “Look, make up your mind; I’m tired of being a human yo-yo; This is the last time; do I make myself clear?”

     Oren broke in, saying, “Yes sir, as clear as a country road around 3 am!”

     Earle Edgar gave him a venomous look, and said, “Wel, nowwa dat dis gui,” pointing to Oren, “hass red mi mynd, leyet mi Eye asek yew to sel me awl ov yer beir sew a*s yew kan screew arowend da restov da friken dayy!”

     The incedulous beer vender said, “You want to buy the rest of my beer? Why, there must be 100 cups of beer in the rack!”

     “Dyid Eye studer? Yeya, Eye sayad awl ov iyet!” He had to stall.

 

     The beer vender slammed the tray down and beer foamed over the tops of the cups, and started to count them. As he was busy doing that, Earle Edgar interrupted,

     “Luuk howa mutch beir ya waystid; Eyema not goen ta payy fer thayat!”

     “Fine!” said they exasperated vender, and he lifted up the tray and started to head down the stairs.

     “Wel ware in da hel dew yew tink yer goen?” shouted an alarmed Earle Edgar Nekk; he needed that beer!

     “You said you weren’t going to pay for the spilled beer and seeing as how I get paid by the cup, empty or not, I can’t give you a discount.”

     “Fyan, Eyel payy fer da slowepidge; dis iz suked!”

     The red-in-the-face beer vender once again stormed back up the stairs and slammed the tray down. More beer foamed over the tops of the cups, and started his count again. When he was about halfway through, Jimmy said,

     “Okay Oren, tell me what happened.”

     Earle Edgar panicked and blurted, “Eye donut wawent ta wayt, Eyema thiresti rite noww!” and he gabbed one of the half-full beers and chugged it down. He was starting to grab another, when the pissed-off beer vender shouted,

     “Hey, what are you doing? You haven’t paid for those yet!”

     Earle Edgar yelled, “Fyan!” and he took out a 10 dollar bill and threw it at the vendor. “Eyel taak dat mutch werth!”

     “At $2.50 apiece, that’s exactly $10 for 4 beers, plus somewhere around 96 more. I’ll let you know the total amount after I finish counting.”

     “Fyne, juss leyt mi kno howwa mutch Eye oh ya. Wel, fer noww tho, dat tene buwuks wil bie, wat, fore yew sayy? Eye awlredy haad won, sew dat meens Eye stil haav, wat, won oar tew leyaft?”

 

 

     One hour had passed, and Earle Edgar was having trouble holding his head up. It felt like a too-heavy weight on the end of his neck. He was already too inebriated to be upset about the $250 plus dollars he had shelled out for the beer; all to keep Oren from telling Jimmy what he had done. Each and every time Oren started to respond to Jimmy’s curiousity about what had transpired during and after his arrest was met with an interuption by Earle Edgar. While At first he had said things like,

     “Eyema stiyal thirsety; Eyema goen ta haav anutter,” it quickly degenerated to statements such as, “Wowe, dis iz sum tayasti beir!” then to, “Are mi fete stil atayached ta mi leyags?”, and from there to, “Hay, their, bayabi; wats sayy yew an mi geyet iyat onn?”

     This was said to a woman with a boyfriend who had a pinky finger that looked like it alone could bench-press 300 pounds.

     “You’d better watch what you’re saying, there, dude; That’s my woman you’re talking to!”

     “Owa, Eyema sory; Eye asumed dat sinse shees sew uyugli, shie wuz stil avaylable!”

     That enraged the guy, who grabbed Earle Edgar in a headlock, screaming, “Say goodnight, you ignorant idiot!”

     Earle Edgar somehow managed to say, “Knowon cawls mi a ignerent ideate, an liyavs tew tel abowet iya---,” before several of his teeth shot skyward and his head ricocheted off the hard concrete, where he had fallen. He lay there not moving. That’s when Oren grabbed Jimmy and pushed him towards the nearby exit.

     “Let’s get out of here! Then, I have to call in to the FBI, so they can swoop in and arrest Earle Edgar.”

     “Arrest Earle Edgar? I’ve got news for you, Oren; they’ll arrest us in the bargain!”

     “Not if a certain someone switched sides and struck a deal!”

 

 

     When they had walked a ways, and were alone, Jimmy said,

     “But I’m confused; why would you rat out Earle Edgar?”

     “Oh, I don’t know; maybe it has something to do with the fact that he used me as a human sheild so he could make good his escape!”

     “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

     “Well, we were trying to get away from the store we robbed, when suddenly a cop was standing right before us. Before I knew what was happening, Earle Edgar grabbed me by the collar and pushed me into the policeman, and took off running. He’d never reacted so fast in his life, like a shot! Speaking of shot, that’s what the policeman did to my a** with the taser gun he was holding. Well, he actually shot more than my a**, he nailed me so good that I must have looked like a teenager doing some sort of new dance; all over the place! After that, I don’t remember much until the policeman’s iron grip!”

     “I can’t believe Earle Edgar would do such a thing!”

      “Well, believe it!” He picked up a nearby payphone they were passing to call Detective Girder.

 

 

      Earle Edgar saw a light far away. He struggled to understand what he was seeing. Gradually, the beam of light grew, until he saw concrete. Why would he be seeing concrete, and sideways? It was cold against his cheek. He lifted up his head, and wow; he felt like there was a sledge hammer beating on the inside of his skull.

     “Owa, mi hed herts lyke an bich!”

     Then he saw a tray of beer with a few missing, and there were several wrinkled up empty beer cups lying near his aching head; little streams of beer ran in wavelets from the empty cups under his pounding head. Despite the pain, he managed to sit up. Then suddenly it all came back. All the beers he’d tossed back in a hurry, in an effort to keep Oren from telling Jimmy what he had done to him. He also had a vague memory of fighting, but he couldn’t remember with who, or what it had been about. He cleverly reckoned that all those beers and the fighting had something to do with his head hurting him so badly. Just then, a voice called out,

     “Alright, it’s over, Earle Edgar; give it up!”

     He looked in alarm at a man holding out his police badge. Sheit! he thought, “Eyea, donut kno woo yer talkin abowet; mi name iz, err, iz...wel da naam yew juss sayad iznt itt!”

     “Earle Edgar, I know who you are, and you’re under arrest. My name is Roger Girder, and I’m the detective in charge of the investigation here in Prong. Once were through here, I’m sure that there will be more crimes you’ve commited elsewhere. A complete moron like you must have done some other illegal things!”

     Oren!  Oren had indeed ratted him out; turned state’s evidence. Of course, he really couldn’t blame Oren; but he still did. The man with all the nonsense phrases had flopped like a fish!

     He turned to flee and suddenly felt like he was caught in a human bug zapper; he felt his teeth grinding together, bit through his tongue; fell to the pavement, his limbs seemingly had a mind of their own; and uncontrollable drool foamed out of his mouth onto his shirt and onto the pavement.

 

 

     Oren had called in their location to Detective Girder and the FBI, and then had told Jimmy what was about to happen. Jimmy said,

     “Well Oren, I guess this is where we say goodbye. I can’t be caught; and you’ll only have a couple of years to do.”

     “But the thought of never seeing you again is unacceptable; I’ve been trying to think of a way to send Earle Edgar to prison, but not you, but I haven’t come up with anything, but the answer just hit me. I’ll skip out with you, and go on the lamb!”

     “Look, I know that what Earle Edgar did to you sucked, but to try to figure a way for him to go to prison?"

     “There’s not a moment to lose; Detective Girder will be here any second and he won’t screw around; I’m coming with you. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me!”

     “I guess I won’t try talking you out of it; come on, let’s go!”

 

 

     Detective Girder had run Edgar Earle’s name through the system, and found out he was not only a small-time local thief, but was a wanted felon out of Alabama.

 

 

     And so, Earle (Red) Nekk had come full circle. He was back in prison as the guest of The State of Alabama. He’d been transfered here after serving his time in Washington State. He tried giving up Jimmy and Oren’s names, but they were nowhere to be found, and after awhile, the search had grown cold. Once he was back in Alabama, one of the first people to visit him in the prison cell that he shared with a mean-looking prisoner, was The Jimmyville Times reporter Bob Inscriber, who asked him,

     “I’m doing an article about you since you fled Alabama. Would you mind answering a few questions?”

     “Wino, Boweb. Eyewood bee graitfull ta bee abal ta seyet da recurd strayat awbowet da tings Eyeva bin akused owef.”

     “How does it feel to finally be caught on the wrong side of the law?”

     “Whiy yew friken wriyten basterd; Eyeva dun nutten rong, an Eyema innosent! Whiy donut yew skribal dat inn yer blabbin rayag?”

     “Governor, do you really expect my readers to believe you’re innocent? Innocent men don’t make a prison break and flee the state.”

     “Dis friken socawled intraveew iz ovar; dis iz suked!"

     “Governor Nekk, just one more question off the record; are you really as moronic as you come across, or is this only part of some scam you’re running to make people believe you’re very dense?”

     Earle Edgar didn’t think about already being behind bars for a long time; all he thought about were all his tormenters along the way, and something snapped in his tiny brain. He flew across his prison cell and caught a not-ready Bob Inscriber with a flurry of punches. He swung at Bob’s exposed face with amazing speed; one after the other, until he saw Bob’s blood fly and splatter on the floor and his head loll back and forth, until at last he slumped to the plain concrete floor of the cell and lay there unconscious.

 

     The blinding rage that had seemingly taken control of Earle Edgar gradually faded, to be replaced by a cold dread. He knew he shouldn’t have done this.

     Butt da basterd reyaly piyast mi owef!

 

 

     He had now had more years added to his sentence after the attack. Now, in addition to his 20 years’ sentence for voter fraud, theft, and fleeing across state lines, he now had 5 more years added to his time for attacking Inscriber, who eventually recovered. If he had thought Walla Walla Prison had sucked, this place was even worse. He was sharing a cell with a mean-looking new fellow prisoner named Hands, who right from the start, kept staring at him in a way was making him nervous.

     “Helodare; mi naam iz Eral Edger Nek; whiy dew dayy cawl ya Hands?” he said, in an effort to ease the tension.

     All he recieved in return was a hostile look and a grunt.

     “Watre yew inn fer?”

     Hands grunted once more and slurred, “You’re cute! I’d like to grab you by the hair and---,”

      Earle Edgar interrupted, “Gared!”  Almost 24 more years of this?

 

 

     Earle Edgar woke up to his 423rd day of being behind bars in Alabama. The realization that he had years to go on his sentence hit him hard. He staggered over the the sink and washed his face and combed his hair, what was left of it. He wished there was a mirror to look at his reflexion, but none were allowed. If he had one, the mirror would have reflected back a stranger. He had lost a lot of weight because the food here was so crappy. He missed the grub he had eaten almost every day at The Blind Funnel Tavern. The thought of the cheeseburgers, chili, fries, and all the rest made his mouth water. In here, the food consisted of some kind of gruel, bread, and water, or so it seemed. It didn’t really, but to him it might as well have.

     Dis playace iz suked, he thought.

 

 

     Tonight, there was a comedy team that would try their best to make hundreds of guys not in the greatest of moods, laugh. The duo would be lucky not to be booed off the stage, and shivved by an unhappy prisoners. He would probably skip it, because the comedy would probably be lame.

 

 

     He had decided to go check out the show, because there was nothing else to do. He needed something to distract his attention from the constant knawing boredom that made up life on the inside. As he approached the recreation room, he heard,

     “...and the guy says, “How much for everything?”

     The crowd of prisoners broke into riotous laughter and stood to applaud. Dese guies muss bee grate, he thought. Then he heard,

     “That’s all the time we have; please be sure to tip the prison gaurd/waiters liberally; thank you, and goodnight!”

     “Yeah, thank you, like a handshake!” came the voice of the other comic.

     Noe, iyat kant bee, he thought, and at first felt a red-hot flash of anger, quickly followed by a desire to see his friend Jimmy again. Oren Trough, not so much.

 

 

     He strained to catch a glipse of the comedy team, but due to the standing ovation he still couldn’t see them through the windows of the recreation room. He walked through it and tried in vain to catch a glimpse of them. He had to fight his way through the sea of humanity, but when he reached the stage it was deserted. He noticed a man starting to take things apart.

     “Saya, wat hapined two da comiks?” he asked the guy.

     “Okay; what happened to the comics? Eh, ha, ha! I can’t take credit for that joke; that’s one that Jimmy says all the time.”

     “Jimy Reeno?”

     “Ah, no, Jimmy Clamp; Clamp and Cranker, but they already left for the airport. We have a show at a prison in Florida tomorrow night and they wanted to get there early, so they have some time to relax.”

     “Owa, duz hee haav blayak hare; an iz hee tawl an skiny?”

     “Ye-eah, but his name’s not Reno; it’s Clamp, like I said.”

     “Awand iz hiz partnor; Krayaker, yew saay? Iz he soret ov meediem hieth an wayat, wid browen hare?”

     “Ye-eah, that describes Jerry Cranker.”

     Wel Eyel bee damed; Jimys dreem finely caam trew!

     The man was saying, “I’m their manager, Dean Waverly; can I let them know who you say says hi; Mr..?”

     “Owa, Eye muss haav da rong guies.”

     It was enough to know that Jimmy’s dream had come true; Oren Trough, not so much!

 

The End