RUFF STUFF
A
Novel by Smcallis
This is a work of fiction. No similarities between any person living or dead is intended, and any such similarity is purely coincidental. All characters © 1992 by Smcallis.
Chapter 10
ON A FAIR DAY YOU CAN SEE FOREVER
THE FAIR CAME TO TOWN. In all its glory, the sights, the sounds, the smells, the crowds. A great Farris wheel dominated the midway, spinning tantalizing in all its neon glory, like a great eye, beckoning young and old alike. "Come to the fair."
There were switchbacks, corkscrews, bumper cars, cotton candy and hot dogs. Blue ribbons for the prize hog, pies by the dozen, tractor pulls and demolition derby. All the talk at school was about the fair. The fair brought excitement to the sleepy town of Stillwater Oklahoma. Lea was miserable, she couldn’t go, and she didn’t have any money. There was no money for anything as frivolous as the fair. The roller coaster, the cyclone, the pony rides these were the things a ten-year-old girl, going on eleven dreams were made of. Only the smell of cotton candy, the sweet scent of the Cracker Jack and pop corn, wafting over the fence this was as close as a farm girl from a poor family was to come to the fair. The neon lights and call of the calliope seemed only a distant dream.
Kate, she had money, her family owned the general store. On Friday night, Kate took great wads of 20-dollar bills from the cash register, and took all the girls from the sixth grade to the fair. Kate boasted a new dress, she had fresh ribbons in her hair, Kate invited Emily as her special guest, Lea, who was in the fourth grade, was not invited.
Brad had fifty cents, Lea had twelve cents, it cost a whole dollar to get onto the midway. Even if they picked up bottles along the road all weekend, they couldn’t make the two dollars it cost for admission, let alone buy tickets to ride the cyclone. The fair seemed as far a way as the moon.
That was when Grand Pa Doc came to town. He drove an enormous twelve-cylinder Mercedes-Benz Touring Sedan, all black and shinny with bulletproof glass and electric windows that went up and down at the touch of a button. He brought a great hamper full of presents for all the children, a turkey and great sausages and good black German bread. Grand Pa Doc came home; it was like Christmas in July!
Lea’s mother, his daughter, hated him; she barely tolerated his presence in the house. Lea’s father a tall good-looking ruddy Irishman, hardworking, longsuffering, even he was afraid of him. Uncle Bernard, Lea’s uncle, that was a different story, he wasn’t so scrupulous, he always figured good old dad was good to tap for a couple thousand dollars. Grandpa Doc usually stayed with Aunt Irene and Uncle Bernard. When Grand Pa Doc was in town, Uncle Bernard spent, he bought a new tractor, new carpet for the living room, and a new Chevrolet coup appeared in the driveway. The family was greedy for what Grandpa Doc brought, after all, Grandpa Doc was rich, he was fabulously wealthy, infamous, and wore expensive clothes bought in the most exclusive shops in Europe. His car, always the latest and most expensive models, when he came, his visits were an occasion to lavish food and fabulous gifts on the unwashed masses of his family. The family, the Bernard half, was cynically willing to except his largess. Lea’s mother, the Swift half, took virtually nothing, and remained forever skeptical of his past, fearful of his reputation.
The sheriff, the deputy DA at the county court house in Oklahoma City, they too took notice when Grand Pa Doc came to town. They all had questions, papers, a stack of warrants for his arrest. Yet, they never came around. They had families, they too were afraid. Grand Pa Doc was a man best left alone, he had powerful friends in Washington, London, Moscow, he came and went as he pleased, and this was one hornet’s nest the law was content to leave alone.
“FRAULINE!”
He scooped up Lea in his great powerful arms. He was a huge man, broad brimmed hat and a mustachioed face. He lifted his favorite granddaughter up in the air, his waistcoat parted just enough, for Lea to catch a glimpse of those terrible silver pistols, one cradled under each arm. Lea was not afraid, she was never afraid of Grandfather, she was not afraid of the gold Nazi Swastika pin he wore on his lapel. She was not afraid of the whispers of rumors that he was a terrible murderer. That he was a killer, a mass murderer, a Nazi war criminal, she didn't even know what that ment. None of that mattered. He was her Grandfather, together, they shared a special bond, a kindred spirit, and they understood each other implicitly
“Your mother, say, you can only stay four hours with me. It is Saturday afternoon, ve get ice cream, go to the moving-picture show, no?”
“Grandpa, can we go to the fair?” Her desire to go to the fair, literally burst out, Lea was at once ashamed to be so selfish and greedy.
The old man chuckled.
“Can we take my friend Brad? Please, Grandpa Doc; I want to ride the cyclone and the pony ride.”
“Ja, Frauline, ve go to the fair. You ask this young Herr Bradley, ve go to the fair.”
Lea was so happy her heart nearly skipped a beat.
This was one fair Lea made sure to do right. They rode the Cyclone, the Hurricane, the Tilt-A-Whirl and the bumper cars. They got lost and stupid in the house of mirrors, the haunted house. They ate hot dogs and cotton candy until Lea thought she was going to throw up. It was the most grand and glorious day of a lifetime. Lea even met Kate somewhere on the midway, Kate sneered incredulously, until she saw Lea still had a fist full of tickets, Kate had only two. Somehow, however mean it seemed, it was very satisfying. Lea and Brad rode the Cyclone again, and again just for spite.
ON A FAIR DAY YOU CAN SEE FOREVER
THE FAIR CAME TO TOWN. In all its glory, the sights, the sounds, the smells, the crowds. A great Farris wheel dominated the midway, spinning tantalizing in all its neon glory, like a great eye, beckoning young and old alike. "Come to the fair."
There were switchbacks, corkscrews, bumper cars, cotton candy and hot dogs. Blue ribbons for the prize hog, pies by the dozen, tractor pulls and demolition derby. All the talk at school was about the fair. The fair brought excitement to the sleepy town of Stillwater Oklahoma. Lea was miserable, she couldn’t go, and she didn’t have any money. There was no money for anything as frivolous as the fair. The roller coaster, the cyclone, the pony rides these were the things a ten-year-old girl, going on eleven dreams were made of. Only the smell of cotton candy, the sweet scent of the Cracker Jack and pop corn, wafting over the fence this was as close as a farm girl from a poor family was to come to the fair. The neon lights and call of the calliope seemed only a distant dream.Kate, she had money, her family owned the general store. On Friday night, Kate took great wads of 20-dollar bills from the cash register, and took all the girls from the sixth grade to the fair. Kate boasted a new dress, she had fresh ribbons in her hair, Kate invited Emily as her special guest, Lea, who was in the fourth grade, was not invited.
Brad had fifty cents, Lea had twelve cents, it cost a whole dollar to get onto the midway. Even if they picked up bottles along the road all weekend, they couldn’t make the two dollars it cost for admission, let alone buy tickets to ride the cyclone. The fair seemed as far a way as the moon.
That was when Grand Pa Doc came to town. He drove an enormous twelve-cylinder Mercedes-Benz Touring Sedan, all black and shinny with bulletproof glass and electric windows that went up and down at the touch of a button. He brought a great hamper full of presents for all the children, a turkey and great sausages and good black German bread. Grand Pa Doc came home; it was like Christmas in July!
Lea’s mother, his daughter, hated him; she barely tolerated his presence in the house. Lea’s father a tall good-looking ruddy Irishman, hardworking, longsuffering, even he was afraid of him. Uncle Bernard, Lea’s uncle, that was a different story, he wasn’t so scrupulous, he always figured good old dad was good to tap for a couple thousand dollars. Grandpa Doc usually stayed with Aunt Irene and Uncle Bernard. When Grand Pa Doc was in town, Uncle Bernard spent, he bought a new tractor, new carpet for the living room, and a new Chevrolet coup appeared in the driveway. The family was greedy for what Grandpa Doc brought, after all, Grandpa Doc was rich, he was fabulously wealthy, infamous, and wore expensive clothes bought in the most exclusive shops in Europe. His car, always the latest and most expensive models, when he came, his visits were an occasion to lavish food and fabulous gifts on the unwashed masses of his family. The family, the Bernard half, was cynically willing to except his largess. Lea’s mother, the Swift half, took virtually nothing, and remained forever skeptical of his past, fearful of his reputation.
The sheriff, the deputy DA at the county court house in Oklahoma City, they too took notice when Grand Pa Doc came to town. They all had questions, papers, a stack of warrants for his arrest. Yet, they never came around. They had families, they too were afraid. Grand Pa Doc was a man best left alone, he had powerful friends in Washington, London, Moscow, he came and went as he pleased, and this was one hornet’s nest the law was content to leave alone.
“FRAULINE!”
He scooped up Lea in his great powerful arms. He was a huge man, broad brimmed hat and a mustachioed face. He lifted his favorite granddaughter up in the air, his waistcoat parted just enough, for Lea to catch a glimpse of those terrible silver pistols, one cradled under each arm. Lea was not afraid, she was never afraid of Grandfather, she was not afraid of the gold Nazi Swastika pin he wore on his lapel. She was not afraid of the whispers of rumors that he was a terrible murderer. That he was a killer, a mass murderer, a Nazi war criminal, she didn't even know what that ment. None of that mattered. He was her Grandfather, together, they shared a special bond, a kindred spirit, and they understood each other implicitly
“Your mother, say, you can only stay four hours with me. It is Saturday afternoon, ve get ice cream, go to the moving-picture show, no?”
“Grandpa, can we go to the fair?” Her desire to go to the fair, literally burst out, Lea was at once ashamed to be so selfish and greedy.
The old man chuckled.
“Can we take my friend Brad? Please, Grandpa Doc; I want to ride the cyclone and the pony ride.”
“Ja, Frauline, ve go to the fair. You ask this young Herr Bradley, ve go to the fair.”
Lea was so happy her heart nearly skipped a beat.
This was one fair Lea made sure to do right. They rode the Cyclone, the Hurricane, the Tilt-A-Whirl and the bumper cars. They got lost and stupid in the house of mirrors, the haunted house. They ate hot dogs and cotton candy until Lea thought she was going to throw up. It was the most grand and glorious day of a lifetime. Lea even met Kate somewhere on the midway, Kate sneered incredulously, until she saw Lea still had a fist full of tickets, Kate had only two. Somehow, however mean it seemed, it was very satisfying. Lea and Brad rode the Cyclone again, and again just for spite.
On the way out, they passed the Carney booths where you “Guess your weight,” “The ring toss,” “Whack the Mole.” For the first time all that long afternoon, Brad actually took a hold of Lea's hand. Lea thought it took forever. Together, they walked hand-in-hand past the shooting gallery. Brad squeezed Lea's hand and told her to take a shot. Lea still had four tickets left. At first Lea didn't want too, ashamed of showing off. Bradley urged her on. Huge stuffed animals of all kinds hung tantalizing in the gallery as prizes, the target, the size of a paper plate, less than fifteen feet. It didn’t seem quite fair. Brad had seen Lea shoot, Lea was a crack shot; she paid her four tickets and loaded the four .22 caliber rim fire cartages into the rifle. “Which one should I shoot?”
“Go for the Koala bear, n’ the Mickey Mouse.” Brad said. Lea carefully squeezed off two shots, both misses. Lea appeared frustrated, embarrassed, there was no possible way she could have missed. Lea concentrated, controlled her breathing just as Grandfather had taught her, and drew down on the two targets, two more shots. Both missed.
“Sorry kid.” The carnival booth operator was smug, it was a racket, he knew it, Lea now knew it, and she now knew she'd been cheated. “You got more tickets,” he smirked, he was a pimply faced fifteen year-old-boy, “I’ll give you another go . . . “
Grandfather, he’d seen the whole thing. He was to have none of it. “You cheat my Granddaughter!” The old man roared. From under his waistcoat, he drew two pistols, two pistols, clad in .99 fine silver, intricately engraved with all manner of fantastic Aztec deities, from Quetzalcoatl, to Tlaloc, two M1911A1 .45 caliber Colt Auto pistols, the absolute instrument of Nazi vengeance and Allied justice. It was an act of providence that caused the Carney operator to dive for cover. Stuffed animals, plates, targets, exploded.“Oh, shit!” Lea pulled Brad to the ground.
Forty-four bullets later, the smoke cleared, Grandfather surveyed his carnage with satisfaction. The shooting gallery was a splintered shambles, all the targets, prizes, riddled with great black bullet holes. Save the two stuffed animals Brad had chosen, the Mickey Mouse and Koala bear twisted in the chaos, unscathed.
Seconds after the last shot fired, the smoke cleared, the ground glittered with spent brass. That was when the Deputy Sheriff came to arrest Grandfather. He was a good-looking young man, around twenty-eight, a native Oklahoman. Born, raised, grew-up all within the eight-mile radius of Payne county Oklahoma, he was honest, sincere, a hard-working farm boy. His is law-enforcement career up to now, uneventful, limited to arresting pickpockets and rousing sleeping drunks off park-benches. He was if anything completely unprepared for a standoff with a gunfighter.
The Old Man drew down on him. Lea hid her eyes, terrified, not for herself, not for Grandfather, she feared for the life of the deputy; certain Grand Pa Doc was going to kill him.
Grandfather, was cool, he was so cool, he drew back the hammer on his pistol, one click, then two, and pointed―the Colt auto-pistol glinted in the sunlight. He was a man who had stared death in the face, faced down six desperate men armed with submachine guns, and killed them all. One pitiful deputy, from a backwards county in Oklahoma, represented no threat. Grandfather, the consummate killer, faced him down, their eyes met. The poor lad, quaked in his boots, he knew he was dead―one heartbeat away from death.
“You don’t vant to do that.”
The Deputy now functioning less on bravery and more on pure adrenaline and dumb training, mumbled something about how Grandfather was under arrest and that he was to . . . Grandfather, he ignored the young deputy as irrelevant, with a swirl of his waistcoat; he turned his back, and walked away.
“Get your Koala bear Frauline, ze Mickey Mouse doll too Herr Bradley. Ve go now.”
It wasn't until long after they got back to the car, out of the parking lot, through the one stop signal in downtown Stillwater, and had made the turn onto the dusty gravel 10 ½ mile road, that Lea realized, Grand Pa Doc didn't have any bullets left.
