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Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

January 18, 2014 Leave a comment Go to comments

By Dick Oakes, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer

View of Hunt looking to the West.

View of Hunt looking to the West.


File Photo

They dumped me off the bus in the Outlands.  Some town called “Hunt”.  It was a real fuck of a place.

There was a restaurant with a bunch of color panels on the front and an orange pitched roof, garish as all hell.  They had some tables in there and a formica counter.  The menu featured heavily-saturated photographs throughout and there was a legend and an index.  I couldn’t make sense of any of it.

The waitress came over– typical corn-fed Outlands redhead, she was filling out her semi sheer Dacron polyester uniform like a champ.

“Coffee?  Eggs?  Toast?” she barked.  She whipped out a notepad from her hip pocket but it fell to the floor.  As she bent over to retrieve it, I got a quick look at the haunches.  I noted that her onesie had a long zipper from the collar to the bottom hem.  Be easy enough.

I lit a cigarette and she went off to put in my order.  There were a couple of hotels around and a western shop and then nothing else but dust and asphalt surrounded by dead trees.  The redhead came back with a plate that contained nothing I had ordered and coffee in a sauceboat.  “We don’t got any clean cups,” she said.  “The hose in the back is out.”

“Just leave it there.”

I walked out, ripped off the stained and filthy button-up and threw it in a garbage can.  Walked into the western shop wearing nothing but an undershirt.  I picked out a couple of satin snap fronts.  “I’ll wear this one out,” I told the guy behind the counter.

Then I walked down and reserved a room.  Two beds, carpeting, TV and telephone.  Everything was paneled in ersatz wood.  “Look at that grain,” the proprietor said, when he opened up the door for me.  “That’s eastern grain.”

I went back into the restaurant.

“Your food’s cold now,” the redhead said.  “I can’t warm it up.  We don’t warm things up.”

“Let’s go.  I got a room with carpet and TV.  That space show is coming on in twenty minutes.  Everybody out here likes that space show, right?”

She paused.  “Yeah, we do like that space show.”

We walked down the dusty main street.  The only street.  The sun was fading.

“My husband is dead,” she remarked.  “He was just trying to deflate some beach balls but they shot him anyway.”  She had a strange, shuffling kind of walk.

“What kind of work did he do?” I asked disinterestedly.  I was fiddling with the different snaps on the shirt front.  She answered something about beach balls, I couldn’t make it out.

We watched the space show.  There were some assholes that had gone off course and were headed for the sun.  There was no logic to it.  When it was over, she turned off the lights.

“This room, the bedspreads and the carpet, they’re all this bright green,” she said.  “It’s giving me a headache.”

She disappeared into the bathroom.  I could hear her throwing up in there.  A fuck of a place I said to myself.

I went outside and walked by the pool.  Nobody was around.  There were only a few lights on in the entire town.

“Next bus is early, about six in the morning,” some guy called.  He had on the same shirt as me.

A real fuck of a place I said again.

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