The New Neighbor
The man lowers the gun slightly. He still looks like he could use the gun if needed, but at least it's not pointed directly at Bill's body.
He glances at the magazine
'Articles, huh? Now, just what was so interesting you had to sneak over here in the dark, creep around the house, and stand outside a window to try and read? They got some article about where to find useful supplies? Or how to avoid getting killed in this shit hole of a planet?'
Bill stares at the man with a stupid look on his face, finally he mumbles, oih man, suppose there's no need ta get all doom and gloomy on me. Oih, geesh, an anywho, look at the rack on this doll! She wouldn't let this place get under her skin like that, she's a cheerleader! An' look here, Doria helps cancer kids at the Will Roger's place... oh boy, that's one lucky twelve year old! Look at her clown suit! I wish I could squeeze her red, er, nose... Bill stumbles his words, realizing he's rambling... again.
Er, I'm Bill... he wipes his hand on his pants and offers it to the stranger.
'I'm Jerry. How'd you get into Brainerd?' Jerry is smiling and seems relaxed, but he has not put the gun down yet. He appears to be waiting for an answer before he shakes Bill's hand.
... pause ....'Bill, are you gonna answer my question? How did you get to Brainerd? Who do you know here?'
Bill shakes off the stupid on his face and finally replies, er, oi... Brainerd, ya, I met Jeff and Fritz out by the roadblock. They showed me around a little and introduced me to Mona. I don't think she likes me too well. She seems jealous of Samone... but, ah... anyways, I drove from North Dakota, yaknow. You don't have any beer, do ya?
Jerry relaxes completely. Grinning, he exclaims, 'Fritz and Jeff?! Why dintya say so?!!?' He opens his door and nods his head at the inside. 'Come on in.'
'If you met Jeff, you already had your 'guest' beer. I've got none to spare right now. Sit down, sit down. Do got some water. It's good--been tested. Want some?'
'So you met Mona. Whadya do ta piss her off? Musta been bad, otherwise you'd be with her right now.'
Bill wipes the sweat off his forehead, geesh, no beer, eh? I know the rule an' all, I'll trade ya some porno mags for a beer... I know you're holding out, Bill flashes him his best used-car salesman smile...
Why dont ya all just drink all the beer now, why tease yourselves by rationing it all? Bill says the word 'rationing' with a spoiled little girl voice... he continues, it's not like this place is gonna get any better, ya suppose? Stupid Horsemen! All I want is a little piece of the pie, yaknow? Work hard, be honest all yer life, and look... NO BEER! Of course the way Bill says it, you know he was never honest OR a hard worker.
Bill looks up at Jerry as he realizes he's being a wind-bag and a jerk. With an embarrassed shrug he says, what do you people do for fun around here, anyways... I mean when yer not waiting for yer next beer?"
Jerry's face picks up at the mention of porno. 'Whatchya got?'
'If you wanted some pie, you shoulda stayed with Mona.' Jerry shakes his head sadly. 'No, I guess you're right. No more fun. If you wanted some fun, you shoulda stayed with Mona.'
'Now, about that porno. Whaddaya got? I got some home brew beer in the fridge, plus a few Blatz I keep for special ocassions.'
Jerry sits down and motions for Bill to sit down as well. 'Don't know why I don't just end it all. No fun left. No reason to be here.'
Bill's face lights up, his lips quiver with excitement as he drools the words, HOME... B R E W ! ! Yeeha! I'll, ah, I'll be right back! Bill trips over an ottoman but doesn't seem to miss a stride as he sprints out into the inky blackness, somehow finding his house AND his other magazines in the dark. Miraculously, an out-of-breath Bill is back in Jerry's place in less than a minute, frantically waving his nudie mags...
Yessiree Bob! I've got the... um, reading material, now go git some poison! Weeha! Things are lookin' up tonight! I'll introduce ya to Samone, she's the reason I'm not with Mona tonight anyways. The purple beast of jealousy raised its ugly head!
Bill unceremoniously plops down on a chair, spreading his few magazines out on the coffee table in front of Jerry like playing cards!
Jerry glances at the selection of magazines. 'I keep the magazine for 24 hours, and you get one beer. Deal?'
Bill contorts his face into a detective's smirk and asks in his best Columbo voice, it's not a LIGHT beer, is it... otherwise I'll need two.
Bill graciously accepts the deal...
Jerry disappears for a minute; Bill hears the refrigerator door opening and closing. When Jerry comes back into the room, he has a beer in one hand and smile on his face.
'No, it's not light. Not at all. This beer would be illegal, Before. It'll knock you on your ass!' He hands the beer to Bill, and takes one of the magazines. Bill notes, thankfully, that it is not the one with Samone in it.
'Now, go on home and I'll pick a different magazine tomorrow night. OK?'
Bill's face goes from giddy to embarrased as he realizes Jerry's not going to let him stay to B.S. for a while... I understand, and, uh, thanks for the brew.
Bill gets up, gathers the rest of his nudie mags, and slaps Jerry on the shoulder as he walks by... show her who's boss, eh, big guy! he says, encouragingly.
Bill, looking rather resigned, quielty slips through the front door out into the inky blackness.
He breathes in the cool air, then turns back around and pokes his head through Jerry's door... Um, got a few spare candles and matches so I can find my way back?
Jerry chuckles. 'Sure.' He fetches the items for Bill and then shuts the door.
Bill nods a thanks as Jerry shuts the door on him. He fiddles around in the dark to strike a match from the matchbook, and lights one of the candles. He walks forlornly down Jerry's walkway towards his place, staring intently at the candle's flame like a moth.
As Bill gets to his door, he stops, realizing with a sigh that he's a night owl and it's still early, he'll never get to sleep anytime soon... and there's a new place to check out...
With another sigh, Bill slips his nudie mags through the door's mail slot (giving Samone a wet kiss first), and turns around, trying to make his way back to the common hall where he got his free 'guest beer'.
The bitter ex-construction worker stays out of sight as best he can, shielding the candle's flame with his hand.
He'll pretend he's stalking a deer, using his NoDak taught hunting skills just to avoid being noticed, and just for fun ...though I usually only hunt when I'm drunk... and he'll top first at his van to check out his stuff.
Night Prowler
Fortunately, there is not a lot of wind, so keeping the candle lit is not too difficult.
Of course, it's not too hard to spot a lit candle in the darkness....
First stop: the van. Bill finds his vehicle right where he left it. He's still got the keys in his pocket, so no one has moved it. Bill opens one of the doors as quietly as he can. A quick peek inside shows that nothing is missing.
Closing the door quietly, Bill turns his attention to Brainerd proper.
Well, there's not a lot to this burg.
One thing he notices, right on the edge of town: the Paul Bunyan Arboretum. He must have passed it on the way in and ignored it. A large structure, it's right on the road. Easy to get to.
In the other direction, it's clear that after a few blocks, a river cuts through town. There appear to be cars blocking the bridge, so it's not a route that can be taken by car. Could be an escape route on foot, in a pinch, though.
South of the main drag, the river curves and cuts off escape once again.
North of the main drag, only one road leads out of town. Again, cars are parked to block the road, allowing passage only on foot--or in an off-road vehicle.
Satisfied that he's seen the lay of the land, Bill is deciding what to do. About a block from the cars blocking the north road out of town, he turns and begins skulking back towards the main drag.
Suddenly, a shot rings out. The bullet does not hit Bill, but does hit the ground nearby. Poor shot? Or warning shot?
Bill stumbles back at the sound of the gunshot, dropping his candle. As he realizes the bullet struck the ground somewhere near him, he pulls out Jerry's beer bottle with his left hand and staggers his best fake drunk stagger, pretending to drunkenly inspect the bottle. Seeing the bottle's fine, Bill yells out to the darkness in a familiar sloshed accent, who, wha', er... wha's there?
Bill knows he's in trouble. The only weapon is his framing hammer he snagged from the van, stuffing its handle in his belt.
His mind races as he prays his I'm a drunken baffoon bluff (secretly he wishes he was drunk right now) will buy him some time or even a reprieve.
This causes Bill to sincerely guffah in unabashed laughter; after all that's happened, he just prayed to God! Bill doubles over, holding his stomach in agonizing lunacy like that annoying office co-worker that always laughs heartily at his own stupid jokes... nearly dropping his beer bottle as it slips between his sweaty, clenched fingers.
Bill lunges for the bottle as if it were a hundred dollar bill caught in a strong breeze, juggling a few steps before the bottle ends up clutched to his chest like a babe in the cold. Bill, breathing heavily, ends up lying prone in the muddy grass.
After a long silence, Bill hears footsteps. It's obvious that someone is moving cautiously toward him.
Lying prone on his back, the first thing Bill sees is the long barrel of a gun--some sort of rifle. Whoever is holding the gun has approached from behind Bill's head. 'Don't move.' As if Bill needed to be told that!
Then, more silence. But Bill does eventually notice more than two legs; there must be at least two people standing by his head.
Then, more footsteps. Far off, but approaching rapidly.
Then, a different voice. 'Tie him good.'
A booted foot gently nudges Bill's shoulder. 'Sit up, very slowly.'
Bill complies.
Before he can say anything, a gun is poked in his ribs, a gag is stuffed in his mouth, and a sack is stuffed over his head. Bill is grabbed by his arms, jerked to his feet, and marched (he guesses, toward town).
The little parade makes several turns, and Bill can not keep track of the direction he is heading. Eventually, he is led into a building and plunked into a chair. The sack is removed, and then the gag.
A single candle burns on a nearby table, providing scant illumination in the small room. There are no windows.
'Well?' says a muscular man, holding a gun pointed at Bill's head. Behind him, Bill hears a door close; whoever took off the sack and gag must have just left the room.
Bill, still clutching his unopened beer in both arms like it was his precious (Lord of the Rings joke), opens his eyes and blinks at the small candles' light. In his best sloshed & tired voice Bill replys, Well what, mate? Ya ain't gettin' my beer, man! An I swear I wasn't goin' to drive, I just looking fer my nudie mags, man... sounding very mellow, he continues...got any coffee or what?
'Where you from? What are you doing here? Who are you working for?'
'And you can cut the act. You're about as drunk as I am.'
Billstops his drunk act and, looking scared, replys, ah, I'm Bill. I live here. Drove in a few nights ago from NoDak... go ask Fritz, Jeff, Mona, and Jerry. Duh. No one said I couldn't go out at night. Whater you, the clan's mommy? Now I'm gonna be too tired to work tomarrow, you owe me a beer, man!
The man snorts derisively. 'I don't owe you anything.' He gives Bill a long, cold look. 'You didn't answer my question. Who are you working for?'
He cocks the gun.
Bill gives a sincerely stupified look, workin' for? I, I freakin' dunno who I'm workin' for!
I guess I'm working for Jeff and Fritz and their let's screw over the big dumb momma of Brainerd conspiracy. He lost his brother back there, yaknow... bet he's a revolutionary trying to take you out! Ya, and bitter Bill freakin' Moore, looser of the century, man that can't even act drunk right, has been hired to infiltrate your freakin' clan and remove the literal teet from the revolutionarys' mouth! Yee freakin' hah!
Can I go home now?
The 'interrogator' stares at Bill for a few seconds, a cold look in his eye.
Then, he suddenly starts laughing. 'Bill, you're okay!' He puts the gun in his pocket and the tension seems to evaporate instantly. 'You want a beer?' He reaches under his desk, and pulls out a beer. It's a Gluek Stite bottle. Water runs down the side--it's obviously quite cold. 'Use a coaster, now. I don't want you destorying the beeee-u-tiful finish on this antique desk.' He pronounces antique as 'anti-Q' and laughs as he sets the beer down on the cheap wooden desk, as if he's the hotest comedian on the circuit.
'You like porn?' He nonchalantly opens his desk draw, looks in it, smiles, and closes it again. 'Got a lot of that, too.' He opens the draw again and pulls out a magazine. It's an old issue of Swank, apparently with a pair of twins on the cover. 'Got all kinds of it, too, if you catch my drift.' He opens the magazine, flashes a picture at Bill, and puts it back in the drawer. 'You want some porn, then?'
Bill suddenly realizes that, for all the kind offers, it's rather tense in the room once again.
The interrogator leans forward, speaking intensely in a harsh whisper.
'I run this town. And I need someone who's not a chickenshit, not a dumb-ass chicken-shit yokel like all the dumb-ass dumb-fucks who live here. And if you are that someone, I can make life here real good for you.'
'Real good.'
The interrogator slumps back in his chair, apparently exhausted from making his offer.
'So, you want some porn, Bill?'
Bill's face goes through a roller coaster of emotion as the interrogator speaks... at the end, he can hardly take his eyes off the cold beer, but he's not sure if he should try to take it or not... finally he puts on his best I'm confident look and brashly grabs up the bottle, depends, big Mamma, depends on how good this beer here is! I ain't gonna work for some watered-down crap, yaknow!
After taking a long, drawn-out and dramatic swig, Bill slams the bottle back on the shoddy desk with a smile and a long, satisfied... AHHH!
Bill's thinking its time he got his just desserts... but realizing he's a potentially dangerous man, Bill hopes he can keep the upper hand by cooperating (might get some good porn, too!).
Okay, Boss, I'm all yours! Who's knees do ya need me to bust! Yee HaH!
"Excellent," the interrogator says softly.
He opens the drawer, takes out the "twins" issue of Swank, opens it to a rather provocative picture and shows it to Bill.
"No knee-cap bustin'. Not yet, anyway. Maybe soon; we'll see."
"In the meantime, here's what I need you to do. First, stay out of trouble. If someone asks you to do something, do it. Don't rock the boat. Second, get ready for a little trip. I've got an important mission for you, but you can't leave for a few days. And no one can know about your mission. I'll announce it when the time is right. Third, come back here every night at 10 p.m. Bring the magazine back, and I'll give you another one." He tosses the magazine at Bill. "Don't lose the magazine, or mess it up. Or I'll have you killed. Ka-peesh?"
The interrogator leans forward again, using an intense whisper once again.
"Don't fuck this up. There are people in this town who want me dead. I've been looking for a lieutenant; a second-in-command. And, so far, you're it. Play your cards right, and we'll be running this town in no time."
He leans back in his chair, the intense whispering over.
"OK, now you have to leave. Hide the magazine under your shirt. I don't want anyone to know about it. I'm gonna kick you out of my office, and be sort of rough with ya. It don't mean nuthin'--it's just a cover. Got it? Play along, and come back tomorrow night at 10."
He moves over to Bill. After the magazine is safely hidden away, he grabs Bill by the shoulders and jerks him roughly to his feet. He drags Bill over to the door, slams it open, and tosses Bill out of the room, kicking him in the ass on the way out.
Before any of the men in the next room can react, the interrogator is roars at Bill, "Don't you EVER talk back to me, asshole!!!" He runs up to Bill, now sprawled on the ground, drags him to his feet and shoves him out of another door, forcing Bill to exit the building rather hastily. "Follow the rules, you dumb-fuck shit-eating idiot, and maybe we won't kill ya!"
He pulls the gun out of his pocket, aims it at Bill, and pulls the trigger. With a loud 'CRACK!' the bullet leave the gun, hitting the dirt a few feet from Bill.
With that, he slams the door shut, leaving Bill all alone outside. After a few seconds, Bill hears gales of laughter from inside the building.
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