Chapter 5: A DEAL TOO GOOD

An idea surfaces. Partially deflating an inner-tube, I squash it into a flattened football shape. Belted it to hold that alluring shape. Obey me cunt, or expect another just like it in the kisser! It looks like a huge pair of plump black pussy lips. Something to experiment with. I need a day to work on this privately and unseen. What the hell? I sit up in bed trying to open my obstinate gluey eyes. Dammit!

No more dreams like that one! Please.

I need some social life time. All work and no play is driving me fucking crazy. I’m only fourteen for krissakes. I need to get laid.

Mom got another letter from Johnny. He figures I’ve saved up some money and makes an offer. He’ll be willing to sell me the beast for a hundred bucks. Give Mom the money to do with as she chooses, something nice for herself. He doesn’t need money or the beast. Just wants his name off of it. Not the great deal you might suppose. Johnny bought the beast four years ago for seventy five bucks, and now wants me to pay a hundred. He did replace all the brakes, so that’s added value. Mom gets the money, and I don’t begrudge her the extra. It’s an okay deal with me provided,?

If I get complete possession and control of the truck now, and can pay it off over time. I currently have nothing remotely near a C-note.

Mom considers passing that request on to Johnny, then realizes it may be months for the letter to catch up with him and he reply. The money is hers, right? Mom decides I can pay her as I’m able but she wants something every month.

“How much do you have now, Ricky, for a down payment?”

“How much does a treatment, the works, cost at the beauty parlor?”

“Eight dollars. Do you think I look so rough, I need the works, Ricky?”

“No Mom, you look great. I just want to pass over enough for you to get anything done you want, even the works, if you want it.”

I unfolded eight tightly creased bucks, and smoothed them by stretching them back and forth buffing fashion over the tables smooth metal edging. Then slid them across to Mom when they were presentable looking currency.

“Thank you dear. Here are your keys. Be safe and enjoy the beast. Are you going to start charging me for taking me to work now?”

“No, no, of course not Mom.”

“Well, I feel I should contribute something towards gas. Take this for the next weeks gas.” Mom returned a dollar bill.

“Now you don’t have enough left for the works!”

“You said I don’t need the works.”

Stop now before I get myself painted into a corner, or put my foot in my mouth.

“Thanks, Mom.” Whew, I’m back up to or down to, five dollars.

I now have a vehicle to joyride in, go on dates to the drive in movie with, or take a girl for rootbeer floats at the drivein A&W. I’m free!

“Mom? Did Johnny say why he was willing to sell me the beast?”

“It’s because of his new car and envious people. He’s afraid somebody might confuse him with being rich, and stage a car accident with you. As an under age driver, you’re likely to bear the heaviest load of blame, and Johnny as the beast’s owner might be sued for letting you drive it. That’s why he put those restrictions on you before he left. It was already preying on his mind even then.”

Earning peoples envy might not be such a great idea after all. Hadn’t thought about it like Johnny did, but I don’t have money at risk like Johnny, either. I need to get smarter, think smarter. Leave it to Johnny to see all the angles. I’m proud of him.

“Now you’re making truck payments, and buying gas for joyriding around, what’s going to become of your trot line project? How do you expect to pay for everything?” Dad’s smart too.

“Oh, the trucks an investment. I’m going in the hauling business.”

“Giving up on being a crabber even before you start?” Dad’s pride is wounded. He loved it when I said, I wanted to be a crabber like him.

“No Dad, I’m giving up nothing. I’ll do both.”

“That’s ambitious son. You got it in you to do both?”

“You farm and crab both, and I’m your son. Why wouldn’t I have it within me to do both, and more?” I watched Dad swell with pride.

“Remember to make us proud, son.” Dad wants that desperately.

“We’re already proud of you, Ricky.” Mom smiles warmly at me.