Thursday, July 30, 2015

Papa's little Girl

Elaine never took her eyes off the yellow Jeep Wrangler as she flung herself into the ditch’s deep snow. She watched as the Wrangler spun itself inversely on the spot she had stood just a moment before sliding along the iced gravel surface of the road slamming its passenger side into the old wooden power pole opposite of where she lay. She almost closed her eyes when the raw sound of treated timber repelling an object screamed into the chilly February mid afternoon air and echoed off the empty pastures that surrounded the otherwise deserted country road. It was only when the Wrangler flipped itself over; spraying snow that she closed her eyes. When she opened him she saw the Jeep had landed stopping itself from completing its roll onto its roof, stilling itself at a sharp angle with the undercarriage towards her, still slightly swaying as if determined to finish its acrobatic exercise.

Elaine picked herself out of the snow, dusting herself off as she got to her feet. That was close, she thought to herself. At thirty six Elaine would admit begrudgedly that she wasn’t in the best of shape; she had sold off all the livestock in the fall so even with the country living lifestyle she didn’t have much to do that forced her to stay in shape. She hadn’t worn make up for month’s either, what was the point of getting all gussied up for some sixteen year old bag boy at the store? Besides, she hadn’t felt like leaving her farm house unless it was for a very important reason. Her thick dull green parka, pink toque with her knotted shoulder length dirty blonde hair haphazardly sticking out and red mittens that she wore to complete the ensemble on her five foot frame probably didn’t help her appearance, she supposed, but regardless she knew she had to go to the Jeep and hoped that the person driving would not be in the mood to criticize her lack of fashion sense.

Elaine’s body didn’t absorb the throw into the ditch very well, she could feel her hips protesting their involvement in any movement but she forced herself towards the almost fully upturned Jeep. A pair of blue jeaned legs stuck out from the front where the wheels would have been if the Wrangler had been upright, the curved proof of the solidness of the telephone pole curled into the snow on either side about half way up the torso. She could hear groans as she neared the grill; the driver was still alive, thank god. When she stepped beside the barbed wire fence that was holding the Wrangler up by a single thin four by four post and bent down to peer under the metal tent she could see that the driver’s head was pillowed by the bottom wire of the three wired fence just at the spot where neck met head. He must have been thrown out then the Jeep followed him. Elaine could see no major patches of blood pooling around the driver; he had been a very lucky man – the depth of the snow, the recent melting that would have formed an ice undercoating was probably propping the metal up rather than crushing the man on impact. Yes, Allen Turnbull, license plate number HOTSTF and the only single handyman in the county was very fortunate. Elaine had to wonder if his luck would hold out. Elaine stepped through the gap in the barbed wire to the other side where she could stand and still have a good view of Allen Turnbull without tempting fate and its tender touch on the fence.

Fuck, Allen Turnbull, town stud and jack of all trades on the side, thought as he groaned. What a day: first that bitch Sherri, who he had sweet talked at the bar the night before to come home with him, had left the toilet seat down which had narrowed his friggin’ target for ‘bullet’ to hit through sleepy half closed eyes, then a simple furnace clean up had turned into something more dangerous when he smelled propane leaking from the pipes. A two hour job had turned into a five hour one and one damn sore shoulder. The Wrangler defrost had decided not to work when he had finally finished the job even though it had worked fine going out to the farm house that morning; then to top it off seeing something green and pink standing in the middle of his path through the small circle that he had managed to scrape through his windshield and the spinning, a hard thud and a flying feeling.

Allen’s eyes started to become focused from the just blur of colours to shapes of actual objects. What the fuck happened? He tried to pull his head up but the moment he moved pain pistoned up to brain from the back of his neck. He tried to move his legs but there was heaviness to them, his arms were next; his left arm seemed stuck as his legs but his right arm seemed free. The shapes took on identifiable objects: The white fluff from the middle to the top of his eyesight was the sun glistened moisture in the air; the yellow from the bottom to the middle was the roof of his ride.

With his right hand Allen felt beside his head; it was a barbed wire fence that his head rested on, the other two wires that made up the fence dangled dangerously low to his face but slightly over from his eyes due to the angle the post had been pushed when the jeep had attempted to force its will upon it. Allen remembered that his seatbelt had snapped undone as he had tried to stop himself from going into a 360 spin, then he remembered a jarring sensation and going through the windshield. He must have been thrown out of the Jeep only to have the fucking thing follow him like a starving dog you’ve just given a hunk of meat to.

Allen moved his eyes downward. He didn’t want to move his head but he could see that his left arm and legs and most of his chest disappeared underneath the angled metal, to the left he could see that the edge of the roof had lodged itself on a post; he was lucky he was still alive. From the corner of his right eye he caught sight of something black. He strained his eyes downward further to find that the battery had dislodged itself from the engine block and now sat in the snow with half of it holding up the twisted remains of his bumper. There was a movement in the upper right hand side of his peripheral vision; someone was there.

Allen felt the rusted metal barbs attempt to pierce the nape of his neck with the littlest of movement; he strained his eye muscles as he tried to focus on the woman using only them. He knew her, he thought. She was the teacher, well had been before they had closed the school last year…She had taught that little shit of a nephew for grade two. Ms. Morier, Elaine Morier that was it. She had introduced herself at the Christmas concert last year. Allen recalled that he had done some work for her parents on a leaky bathtub a couple of years back, the house was somewhere close to around here. The job had stuck out in his mind because the beefy old man hung around asking him questions about how the local pussy was nowadays. The old man mentioned that he had a daughter that gotten herself all educated up but she was still almost as good of tail as her mother. Allen had spied the missus, all that came to mind was ‘ball breaker’ and made a mental note that if some Elaine chick tried to get into his pants was to run the other way. Where had he seen her recently? Allen remembered he had seen her a couple of times sitting in the cold on the bench outside the bar, never coming in but sitting there drinking her ‘7-11’ coffee staring at everyone else having fun. He remembered he had thought she was a dyke the way she stared at the women he had hanging off his arm. Having pegged who the woman was, Allen’s mind went back to the current situation he found himself in; lesbo or not, he needed her right now.

“Help me,” Allen fumbled for the next word before with a grunt he managed to spit out, “Please Elaine, help me.” Though the tendons in his arms threatened to tear he reached out with his right hand towards her and repeated his plea. The top of his knuckles grazed the curved metal of his Wrangler’s hood; timidly Allen pushed slightly against it to test whether he could simply push his body out. The wooden fence post two feet to his left creaked in protest that much movement would sever the solidness that kept the rest of tracker from becoming level with the ground. He stopped his attempt a second too late; he heard a wooden crack – the staple that had held the top barbed wire tier up had given up. Allen took a sharp intake of air as the wire smacked down with an elastic double jump before coming to rest in the little bit of brown hair that he had. He felt the sensation of liquid seeping only to freeze to his scalp a few seconds later.

Elaine stood there.

Allen’s arm gave out and plopped back into its snow blanket once more. Why wasn’t she doing something he asked himself, why was she just standing there, I’m in pain, I’m dying…and she’s just standing there like a fucking tree. Maybe she was slow Allen thought to himself, maybe if I ask one more time she’ll understand. He took a deep breath, winced as the movement of the air through his windpipe vibrated his flesh against the barb.

“Help me, please,” Allen asked once again, trying to connect to Elaine’s eyes with his own. Another breath, another attempt to deny that the pain would win, “My chest, it’s caught.” His arm hadn’t the strength for much more than a limp wave of his hand that Elaine thought was a real cute miniature snow angel.

Elaine still did not move.

Allen gave a heavily moistened cough, the roughness of his throat hidden from him as the barbs embedded in his forehead and neck scratched with each involuntary movement. The phlegm was tinged red, Allen could see that from the spittle that had rained back down onto his face and rimmed along his bottom eyelids. He couldn’t afford to pleasant to the woman any longer; Allen didn’t know where the blood had come from but his mind raced back to all the documentaries he had watched on the “Discovery Health” television network where it was certain it was a symptom of a punctured lung.

“Come on you stupid fucking cow,” Allen growled loudly. He decided that the damage the barbs would do to his head and neck was no longer his main worry; they would be the least if he didn’t get this woman to do something. He turned his head, blowing heavily through his gritted teeth as he felt and heard the trenches being etched into his flesh.

“Stop standing there like a fucking useless cunt and call for help, or fucking look for something to get me the fuck out of here, I don’t give a fuck what you do, just– move – your – fucking- fat-ass! What a fucking waste of skin you are, you fucking slit!”

Allen’s eye sight began to blur from his exertion and he was ready to slip into despair as the woman stood there still with her stupid fucking blank expression for second after long second. Elaine’s expression finally changed; the dullness in her eyes disappeared and a smile crept along her face as she answered him.

“Yes dearest,” Elaine said with wispishly glibness, nodding her head. She stepped from the front of the Wrangler, disappearing from Allen’s sight behind the undercarriage.

Dearest? Fuck it, Allen thought, she could have called him a prick for all he cared; just as long as she did something. He heard three beeps of a cell-phone and her voice reporting that there had been an accident on Range Road 432… yes…at the 865 junction. Elaine Morier. Yes, she would stay at the scene until the officer arrived. About twenty minutes then….good bye.

Twenty minutes wasn’t that long, Allen thought, it could be a lot worse; the price you paid when you lived where they only had the one county cop for the entire area. He could handle the pain. Think of the positives, Allen told himself: you’re only thirty and in reasonable health; it’s only around minus fifteen out so the frostbite won’t be that bad once you get out of here; you’re insured to the nuts; you’re not alone, even if it is someone like that daft bitch Elaine; yeah he was going to be alright.

Elaine put the cell-phone back into right pocket of her parka. She felt woozy; Allen Turnbull had talked to her! Not only he talked to her, he had talked to her in the language of love that papa had used with momma! He loved her! He had acted like she didn’t exist all this time because he was just shy about showing his true feelings for her in public; papa had been the same way. This situation was Cupids’ arrow that let Allen open his heart to reveal himself to her. Elaine knew that it was up to her to show her suitor that the feelings were mutual; she knew how to too – momma had told and taught her how a man expected to be shown by a woman that she loved him.

Elaine walked to Allen’s legs and kneeled beside them. She was so nervous and giggled to herself as she wondered if this was how virgin brides felt on their wedding night. She removed her mitts and gingerly unbuttoned Allen’s pants. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before her fingers grasped the pant’s zipper and slowly pulled it down.

The assuredness Allen had been feeling disappeared to be replaced by confusion – what the hell was going on? He felt the cold hit the skin that had been kept warm by his jeans. Was that cow checking out his junk when she knew that he couldn’t do anything about it?

“Hey, hey, hey!” Allen hoarsely shouted, “What the fuck are you doing? Cut it out right now you fucking slit!” He concentrated, ignored the pain to move his waist in attempt to get her attention. He increased his efforts as he felt his buttocks being exposed to the partially melted snow under him; his legs now prickled with the exposure to the cold air. His entire lower half of his body let him know that it was damn cold out save for this ankles and feet, thankfully, he thought morbidly, she didn’t need to see what those looked like. He forced his body to lurch once more.

“Ohhh,” Elaine murmured, her man was an impatient one, she had thought it would be more sensual to undress him slowly, but his anxiousness must have gotten the better of him as his pelvis swirled about. Best not to lollygag then, Elaine knew how disappointed a man could get if he felt his woman wasn’t living up to her duty; she had seen her papa demonstrate that more than a few times. She turned her attention from carefully rolling down Allen’s jeans to his pelvic area. Elaine gasped. She had not expected to see what she had; she thought that like papa it would be wrinkled and floppy, that she would have to work on it to show it she had the best of intents for it to awaken for her. Allen, bless his heart, must have already known that she would not hurt him.

Elaine regarded the blood engorged member curiously; she had seen her papa’s topped with grey of course, those of her prepubescent class during swimming lessons when she helped them towel off and pictures on the internet but to see one up close on a grown man, her soul mate, was a different matter entirely. Elaine knew it was a natural reaction for the body to release all sorts of hormones when excited, which she assumed Allen was, not only finding love but being near death must have been a morbidly exciting experience for the fleshy organ to be visibly throbbing so.

With one hand she grasped Allen’s shaft, stroking up and down as her mouth came down and engulfed the tip within its warmth. Elaine noted that it had a stale and salted taste; he must have been really working hard today to make even his cock sweat; she would make sure it was washed and cleaned in the most pleasure way. She closed her mouth even more, the edges of her teeth scraped across Allen’s tip.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Allen screamed as he felt Elaine’s teeth put notches into his member.

Listen to how much he’s enjoying this, Elaine thought to herself as she heard Allen’s voice from the other side of the Wrangler. She let a smile form at the edges of her mouth as she slid her head up and down.

Allen’s eyes began to roll from the agony. Concentrate, damn it, concentrate, he demanded of his mind – he could feel a lightness creeping into his head that he knew each time he would fall into a deep sleep. He couldn’t worry about the bitch, he had to keep himself awake and hinder the oncoming hysteria that was welling and trying to kick start a bout of hyperventilation within the cramped confines of his lungs.

Elaine noticed that the noise from Allen had stopped; he was done his appetizer and wanted the main course. She pulled her mouth off and softly put the hardness against Allen’s hairy abdomen. Elaine stood up, unhitched her jeans and slid them off fully; Allen would appreciate that she wore over-sized jeans for easy access anytime – those other girls wore those skin tight concoctions that only outlined what a man really cared for and took precious seconds from letting them get it, bitches. She stepped over Allen’s legs.

“Dinner time, lover!” Elaine announced over the undercarriage.

What the fuck now, Allen cried in his brain, what the fuck could that whack job be doing now?

Elaine spat into her palm and rubbed herself with it; she was sure that how wet she felt would have more than ample for the easy entrance of her lover’s rod, but it never hurt to make sure. Elaine turned her body so that she faced Allen’s trousers and boots. She knew that to mount him the other way would have been impossible; the Jeep that prevented her from seeing her lover’s appreciative eyes also stymied her efforts to move her less than agile body to where she could be comfortable on Allen.

Allen’s cock ached from the wetness freezing on its sensitive head, he had to get through to this crazy assed bitch before he got frost bitten in a spot that he had no want to see amputated – he would be okay with his arm or a leg being cut off, but not his dick! He tried to squirm again but he found his efforts were stopped by a lighter weight on his hips and warmth surrounding his member. This can’t be happening, Allen thought as a laugh escaped his lips. I’m dying and some fucking psycho is getting off on it!

The sick amusement left him soon enough as he felt the familiar lessening of the pressure and then reapplication of it. The movement pushed his chest and lower arm along the tight metal that had trapped him in the first place, he could feel the top layers of his skin being peeled like a potato. The intensity of the motion increased, travelling up his spine to his neck. Allen screamed for Elaine to stop; the metal of the barbed wire fence began to saw deeper into his flesh. His pleas would go unanswered.

Elaine felt the cold narrowed sharp edge of the Wrangler’s front driver’s side quarter panel wheel hub slice deeply into her buttocks. The pain heightened her sexual pleasure, her vaginal muscles clamped tightly around Allen’s member as she attempted to slow the gushing of her release, to savor each wave as it rippled to her labia shores. She tightened her legs against Allen’s as the sensations began to slow From behind the metal wall she could hear sobbing; Elaine almost started to cry, Allen was so joyous that he had given her pleasure he was crying! What a man!

She unclamped her vaginal muscles. Elaine could fee that Allen’s stiffness hadn’t lessened, he had denied himself the ecstasy for hers, Elaine thought, that wouldn’t do; love was a partnership. She gave a small yelp as the metal that had started to freeze in the gash of her buttocks came free when she moved forward slightly to put her hands on the ground just below Allen’s knees; she could feel the pressure of his cock against her insides – this time was all for Allen. She began to grind into Allen so hard that Allen’s pubic patch tickled her anus, spurring her on with even more resolve.

Allen neared the point of madness; he could feel the weakness of the blood loss taking way his will to try to move his legs and hips to throw the fucking scank off of him, the sound of the creaking of the Wrangler’s metal as she pushed into it roared maniacally into his ears as if it was a count down to his death. There was a small popping sound to his right. He turned his eyes toward it just as another jarring of the jeep cracked the plastic top of the Jeep’s battery. The resistance of the plastic as a whole now crumbled and fell to the ground as the mass of the jeep’s bumper took the place of the battery’s contents. The curved end of the bumper was ladle-like, as the fence post resisted the Jeep’s intent to occupy its space, the bumper brought acid back up within it. The next bump against the Jeep from the other side jeered the bumper – the acid flew from its chromed cradle splattering Allen’s face.

Allen lost his voice for a second as the acid bubbled and eat through the first layers of his nose, lips, cheeks but it was found soon enough as the corrosive fluid began to devour the corners of his corneas. The acrid stench of his own burning flesh stripped the insides of his nostrils; he wanted to slam his face into the snow to get it off but the barbed metal spike in the back of his neck and forehead made it impossible to move. The last thing Allen ever saw was the sky burning up like a film caught in projector looked like on a screen. In the deepest part of what was left of his rationality Allen laughed; thank god that his tear ducts had been digested by the acid otherwise the salty tears running into the gaping chasms would have really hurt.

Elaine slowed her thrusts when the slight wind shifted and wafted over the undercarriage from where her lover’s face was. It was the scent that tipped the scales within her; she knew that smell was that of hot pleasure – she had smelled it growing up on her momma, the image of her momma’s palms with the circular pattern of the stove and her momma telling her that it was just papa’s way of saying she was his forever. Allen was screaming both vocally and aromatically at her that he would be his forever. Elaine’s face flushed as she felt her juices flow freely once more. She added her own scream to his, a duet of passion as her thrusts against Allen increased in their intensity. Elaine lost all sense of time and space. With the relentlessness of a steam locomotive quickly overheating on a hot summer’s day she rammed herself back and forth, the metal biting once again into her buttocks, each loving sting of the cold and her hot blood.

The Jeep Wrangler quacked with every collision of Elaine’s buttocks and its quarter panel; with every quake the soul wooden post that was curbing Allen’s demise creaked in protest. Allen’s shoulders were slick with the blood from the open gash at the back of his neck, he could feel the barb gouging itself deep with each push of his body by Elaine. He screamed his plea to the love of god stop but only a harder push was the response he got. The barbed pencil that was stenciling into his forehead had reached his skull, he felt the bone being scraped as the blood and severed skin and hair slid in unison around the burning pits in his face and draining into his mouth to be fill his lungs with anything but the life giving air.

“Oh fuck yes!” Elaine shouted out as she lifted her body up almost totally off Allen’s manhood, then swallowing it once again within her with primal speed. She felt Allen’s legs and cock stiffen.

Allen’s screaming stopped as the bottom barb of the wire fence sliced through his spinal cord. The desperation and anger that he was using to get the fucking psycho slut off of him disappeared just as the control of his limbs did. Without Allen’s physical defensive actions to act to as a barricade to it pain overran his mind, raping raw every synaptic nerve Allen had. The metal barb which had its cutting no long slowed by the hard neck bones ravaged upwards.

Elaine could feel Allen’s limpness within her; no! She needed more; he would not deny her all of him. She slammed herself into Allen’s hips with greedy resolve, the surface of her buttocks already a blooded series of fleshy ribbons assaulted the quarter panel one last time.

The fence post felt the violence of the Wrangler against it but could no longer stand against it. The post snapped; the Jeep no longer impeded finished its descent to the snow covered ground. A metallic thunder roared as the vehicle’s top snapped the top barbed wire then the second and the third. The momentary tautness on the barbed wire was all that was needed to finish its upward slashing task through Allen’s neck. As the Wrangler settled into the snow, Allen’s head rolled down the slight incline to rest twenty feet from it.

Elaine picked herself out of the snow just below her lover’s feet where she had been pushed forcefully by the Wrangler’s small yet violent descent. Elaine’s lust quickly turned to rage.

How dare he, she thought, getting his then tossing her aside. Elaine didn’t want to look at Allen; she picked her pants from the ground, sliding them over her boots and sucking on her bottom lip as the course jean material felt like sand paper on her raw buttocks. She was now ready to face Allen; she turned. The Wrangler had swallowed Allen’s torso to the top of his navel; she let loose a kick straight into Allen’s limpness and spat. There was no response from the corpse.

How could have I have been so stupid, Elaine chastised herself, to think this piece of shit was the one. Elaine was going to show him, she marched around the front of the Jeep to spit in his face to show her disgust only to discover that she would have to walk a little farther to do so. She decided she wouldn’t do it; he wasn’t worth it, the bastard. In fact, she told herself, she didn’t want there to be anything to tell the world that she had been duped into giving herself to a player; she was better than that.

Elaine walked back to Allen’s legs. She pulled up his pants, doing up the button and zipper but not before slamming her fist several times into his lying organ of fake love. Elaine saw that a part of the quarter panel had come off so she grabbed it and began shoveling the snow around Allen’s hips which shinily proclaimed her foolishness. He would not be able to boast about his deceit, no siree, she was not going to have any of that. So intent on her eradication she never heard the vehicle that was approaching.

Damn winter, Constable Orly growled to himself as he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich. If he had been pulled away from his daily afternoon soup and sandwich at the diner for a couple of fucking teenagers stuck in the ditch after trying to be all macho and doing a over the speed limit fishtailing contest there’d be hell to pay. To top it all off, the call was on the opposite of the county which was a twenty five minute drive in the best of road conditions, but with the recent warming and then cold snap traveling was slowed an additional fifteen minutes. He turned off 678 onto 432 a kilometer from junction 865. He cursed the weather, cold but sunny which made him have to squint even through his sunglasses because of the glare of the snow. His irritation changed as he neared junction 865.

Orly could see the blackish grey of a vehicle’s undercarriage sooner than he could see the person that was throwing snow frantically around the upside down passenger side door that had been driven forcefully concave. Not good. He picked up his radio and asked Charlene the dispatcher to request an ambulance to the junction. No he didn’t know the extent of injuries - but he guaranteed her that from the looks of it there would be. The constable stopped the car just before the junction; he noticed that there had been tracks from where the wind had blown a large pile of snow into the middle of the road that twisted and turned towards the power pole on the corner; he didn’t want to disturb any evidence of what possibly could have caused this.

As he stepped out of his patrol car, Orly put his hand up to shield the top of his sunglasses from the sun to make out the figure scooping snow from around what Orly thought looked like legs, shit. He did a half trot to the vehicle, an ugly looking Jeep Wrangler: Allen Turnbull’s ride. It wasn’t until he was right beside the person that he recognized her, Elaine Morier whose place was across from here.

“Ms Morier?” Constable Orly said as he touched her shoulder.

Elaine gasped, losing her balance, falling back from her knees onto her but, emitting a squeal as she did so.

Skittish, Constable Orly thought, must be the shock of seeing something like this, poor girl. He took a quick peek over the undercarriage and saw a head lying off in the snow, a trail of blood showing it had originated from the other side of the Wrangler. The woman had been trying to help a dead man.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, ma’am,” Orly apologized as he offered his hand to help her up. God, he thought to himself, she’s been really working at rescuing; her face was red, the sweat her efforts had generated had wet even the hair sticking out of her pink toque and frozen it in sharp angles. She didn’t release the hold she had on the metal she had been using as a makeshift shovel. “You can stop now.”

Orly could see confusion in her eyes; she was in shock. He asked her to go warm herself in the back of his car and he would drive her up to her place once he had secured the area. She nodded and began to walk away. Orly gently took the piece of metal from her hand and patted her shoulder reassuredly. He watched her make her way wobbly towards the car; she must have really exerted herself was his only thought. Once she had gotten in and closed the back door, Orly turned his attention to circumstances of Allen Turnbull’s death.

Constable Orly walked around the Wrangler, quickly stepping over where the headless torso was, stopping only once to bend over to peer at where the metal and Allen’s flesh met. Orly gave the metal a small short push, quickly retreating when the Wrangler started to groan. He jumped back. There was a loud snapping sound, the driveshaft come loose, one end slide off the slightly angled undercarriage and jabbed into where the Constable had seen Elaine kneeling digging only a minute before. Orly wiped his brow with his grayish tan sleeve then took one last look at the scene behind him. If that poor woman had bumped that deathtrap in her attempt to dig out Turnbull…Orly would have had two meat sacks on his hands instead of one.

She was one lucky woman that Elaine Morier was, he thought to himself. She had earned it – the last couple of years had been bad ones for her; the disappearance of her father, her mother so heartbroken that she committed suicide, the school being closed, and now trying to save the life of a dead man; it was amazing she wasn’t in some loony bin. He felt guilty that he hadn’t made the time to stop by her farm to see how she was doing; he had seen her occasionally sitting on the bench outside the local bar – he supposed it was her way of having some sort of human contact in the only manner she knew how to.

Elaine had been a year behind him at the all grades school in town. He remembered how she was always sitting alone in some corner. He had once gone up to her to talk to her, admittedly on a dare by his friends to, but all Elaine did was try to shrink into those over sized sweaters she always wore as she twirled a strand of her greasy looking straight hair attempting to become invisible. Orly had been surprised when she had come back five years later to teach; she hadn’t lost her adolescent shyness – the times he would come into the school for pr days she still sat in the corner by herself while the other teachers carried on animated conversations around her.

Constable Orly came back to his squad car to grab the small digital camera he had in the glove compartment; he had decided that he should take the accident pictures while he waited for the meat wagon to arrive. He opened the passenger side door, turned his head to smile at Elaine. Poor woman, Orly thought to himself, she looks so sad, so…

“Mother fucker, cock sucking whore,” he screamed as his forehead crunched into the top of the car’s roof and bounced back. Orly’s left hand rubbed the fledgling goose egg forming directly in the middle of his forehead as his right hand instinctively punched the offending roof with loud thudding sounds as he continued to curse. It was by chance that through his rage that he caught sight of Elaine’s shocked expression staring at him. He stopped hitting the car as his face reddened. Damn, first seeing a man dying in front of her and now me going off like an asshole, that poor woman. Orly cleared his throat, bent down into the car again and apologized to Elaine for his behavior.

Elaine smiled back at the constable and assured him it was quite alright. Orly told her no it was not alright and it wouldn’t happen again, that was a promise. The constable excused himself as he grabbed the camera, telling Elaine that he would run her home soon as the someone from the next county showed up to secure the site, which should be any minute.

Elaine watched the constable walk back to the Wrangler. Those meaty fists, the raw emotion in his voice, the violence, the apology, and the promise replayed themselves in her mind; papa…

Elaine strained to keep the laugh in, lest Constable Orly would see it and wonder why. The ironic smile that crossed her face she could not stop though. Two months ago when she had seen Allen Turnbull hit that slut Wanda Berhois until she was lying on in the snow berm in front of the bar then help her up she had thought she had thought she had finally found a man just like momma married. Elaine watched Allen closely after that for a month, watching him go from woman to woman; she over heard him talking with his friends about how he wished there were some real women in town that measured up to his standards, complaining how while those whores said they hated him for his methods of keeping them in line, he knew they actually enjoyed his manly strength. She knew that their special kind of love couldn’t be found by simply walking up and introducing herself to him; she knew that she would have to earn that love. It had been a challenge, one that he would appreciate; the midnight visits to his house and measuring the wheels and wheel base of the Wrangler, convincing her neighbor that she needed a handy man for that day, making sure that Allen would be busy there for a couple of hours at least while she prepared to show him Elaine’s worthiness by loosening the propane hose just enough that the spot of the leak wouldn’t be found immediately; the forming of the ice and frozen gravel that would throw the Wrangler into the post when she stepped out in front of Allen’s path as he was driving home, tired and dirty Almost being spotted as she was underneath his vehicle puncturing the heater hose so that his windows wouldn’t defrost completely when he came out to get something from it. All that effort to find out in the end to find out that he wasn’t half the man papa had been.

When momma pulled out that frying pan, bashing into papa’s face, papa laughed as he tried to pick himself off the floor, asking momma if that was all she had. Papa didn’t cry out when momma’s knitting needles were jabbed into his eyes; papa just used those lover’s words “you bitch” as he cradled momma tightly in his arms. Papa even called Elaine her special name when she used the butcher knife like momma showed her – he had looked down at her with his eye-less face and whispered, “you’re an useless cunt just like your mother, slit”. Papa had died knowing that he had told her how much he loved her, not sobbing and whining like Allen had. Papa was right, Elaine was like her momma and she deserved a man just as good as her momma had.

Elaine’s smile widened as she watched Constable Orly trip over a piece of metal sticking out of the ground and his turning around to kick and stomp on it. To think of the weeks of watching the constable’s daily route, the mapping of when he would be the farthest distance, how long it would take for him to get here, the time she had wasted when her true love had been in her binoculars as she had fixated on a poser like Allen Turnbull. She had forgotten how kind papa was when momma and he were in the outside world, that quiet façade that barely contained the passionate storm within. Elaine closed her eyes as she felt a warm moistness spread between her legs. She imagined her momma was looking down and smiling, her little girl had found a man just like the man dear old mom had married…

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