Home > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

Dick Oakes, Jr.

Dick Oakes, Jr.

I warmed up a couple of microwave burritos, then took the bus down to the truck stop. People kept looking at the burritos the whole time. “Why do you have hot, steaming burritos on your lap?” one guy finally asked. I told him to mind his own god damn business if he knew what was good for him. He did.

I got out at my stop and picked up a couple of bottles of beer. Then I took the bus back over to the co-ed dormitory.

It was a depressing three-floor walk-up made of stucco. Very little adornment. Bunch of nurses lived there. They had left their trash cans lying in the mud with the lids off– the effect was frank and startling.

I squatted in the rear of the place behind a beveled hedge and unpacked my binoculars from their spongy, springy case. I glassed the upper floor first since it was lighted– couple of girls in bra and panties having a pillow fight. I consumed an entire burrito with only a dim awareness of what I was doing. I glassed the next window– petite blonde, in bra and panties, putting a big penguin into a child’s plastic swimming pool. The penguin was really getting a kick out of it– splashing water around gleefully. Then the blonde threw on a white t-shirt that read, Penguins Are People Too! I couldn’t figure on any of it but I wolfed down a second burrito anyway and chased it with the beers.5399256588_f5429fed21

After awhile, the lights went out and the early spring warmth disappeared. I headed down to the main drag and found a place called “The Albert Puck”– some trash-strewn motor court done up in a disjointed modernist style. There were fake trees along one side.

The guy on the desk was a little brick shithouse of a man with a mustache and bright red skin. He was reading a magazine called “Coastal Safety Measures”. There was a garbage drawing on the cover showing a boat smashing into a house. A banner across the bottom said, “IT WILL HAPPEN TO YOU”. I couldn’t figure on any of it.

The guy put down the magazine and looked me up and down. He was a cocky little pisspot, you could see it– I thought about cracking him one across the jaw but decided to hold off. He gave me a room down on the end and read off a list of rules. “No dope in there. Can’t have any dope in there. I won’t stand for it. And no outside meats. You wanna’ bring in a cooked chuck or a ham, you clear it with me first.”

We had a stare down for awhile and then I walked out. The guy came to the mouth of the hallway and watched me into the room.

It was done up in bright pinks and green. There were a couple of single beds with little table tents neatly placed on top. I picked one up. It said, “Your Bedspread was Brought to You by Dietz Bedding and Linen. There was a calendar on the obverse but it was from two years ago. I tossed the table tent, threw off my moist clothes and crawled into bed.

It was about three hours later that I heard some banging in the hallway. I threw the chain and cracked the door. Everything was in deep shadow. Then a face emerged from the darkness. It was a grim, gaunt face, sick as all hell and hairless.

“I’m Albert Puck,” he said. I didn’t offer anything.

“Are you happy with your room?”

I allowed that I was but I couldn’t figure on any of it.

“I apologize for my son. He can be brash. He doesn’t care for things. His mother was that way.”

“Where’s his mother?”

“She died. Died in this very motor court. In the bath. In your room.”

I figured on this being some kind of a jackpot but I didn’t call him on it. He started to shake violently.

“I’ll be seeing you,” he managed. He lurked off.


The next morning, I snuck out of there without returning the key. I threw it into a ditch later.

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