Read Online PIGGS - A Novel with Bonus Screenplay by Neal Barrett Jr - Free Book Online
Authors: Neal Barrett Jr
Tags: General Fiction
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that."
Cecil takes the paper sack. Opens up his Coke, looks at his Mars. Hands the Head 'n Shoulders to Cat. "Go over there. They got a hose by the tanks. Shampoo your head."
"Huh?" Cat Eye looks blank. "What for?"
"Do it. Do it right now. You're making me fucking sick."
Cat Eye doesn't argue. Cat knows better than that. He doesn't tell Cecil you don't shampoo if you don't have hair. Even if you did, you didn't do it at the 7-Eleven store.
He takes off his shirt and lays it on the hood. Walks over to the gas tanks, turns on the hose. Takes the top off the shampoo.
The young kid running the store looks out. Sees Cecil and the Cat. Sees the lizard-green Cadillac. Decides he doesn't care to get into that.
Cecil drinks his Coke. Doesn't like the Mars. Likes the nuts fine, doesn't like white stuff inside.
One of the kids has a Cowboys gimme-cap, bill turned to the back.
"Why he doin' that," he asks Cecil. "How come he washin' his head?"
"'Cause he wants to," Cecil says.
"Man hasn't got any hair."
"Won't do any good," the other kid says, "man hasn't got any hair."
The kids go huk-huk-huk! Cover up their mouths to hold the giggles back. Pedal in circles round Cecil, laughing and looking at Cat.
"Stop it," Cecil said, "quit doing that."
"Doin' what?"
"Running over bugs."
"Ain't your bugs, man."
"You listening, kid? Don't squash the bugs. I don't like to hear you squashing bugs."
The first kid grins at his friend. "Better not squish no bugs. Lone don't like you squishin' bugs."
The other kid laughs.
Cecil says, "What? What'd you say to me?"
The kid's not dumb. The kid pedals quickly away, making a bigger circle with his friend.
"Called you Lone," says the friend. "Got you a mask and all, you the Lone Ranger, man."
"Where you Indian, where Tonto, man?"
"Tonto, he givin' hisself a sham-poo."
"Shit. Tonto ain't got any hair, can't get a sham-poo, man don't got any hair."
"Where your horse, man? Where Silver at, he waitin' in the car?"
The kids laugh and howl. They make big circles and run over crickets. Squish-squash-squish.
"Gimme the keys," Cecil says.
"What for?" Grape says.
"Gimme the keys, Grape."
Cecil holds out his hand and snatches the keys. Walks around and opens the trunk. Paws through beer cans and sacks, finds the Winchester, the 12-gauge pump.
"Cecil, that ain't a good idea."
"Get in the car. Get Cat, get him in the back."
"What I'd like you to do, I'd like you to think about this."
"I already did," Cecil says, racking a shell in the chamber, snack-snick! "Killing the poor is a blessing, Grape. What kinda life these little bastards gonna have, you ever think about that?"
"Yeah, but—"
"Going to grow up and have more little kids, that's what. Little assholes'll be running over bugs."
Cecil raises the weapon and fires. The butt slams into his shoulder, the barrel jerks up into the air. Cartons of Cokes are stacked in front of the store. The cartons explode in a hail of foam and glass.
The kids scream and howl, duck their heads and pedal for their lives. Cecil stands behind his car, coolly blasting one load and then another down the street. He fires until every shell is gone, until the kids are out of sight.
The boy in the 7-Eleven is down behind the counter on the floor. Cat's eyes are full of shampoo, he can't see a thing. He can hear someone shooting, he doesn't know what.
"Holy shit," Grape says, sitting in the car. He looks straight ahead, he doesn't look back. If Cecil has shot two little black boys, he doesn't want to know about that. He needed a drink half an hour ago, and he really needs it now...
Chapter Fourteen
J ack sat in the Yak.
Small explosions of fierce morning light pierced the thick green canopy above. One caught Jack, struck him dead center, stung him in the eye. "Thanks," Jack said, "I guess I needed that."
He
Cecil takes the paper sack. Opens up his Coke, looks at his Mars. Hands the Head 'n Shoulders to Cat. "Go over there. They got a hose by the tanks. Shampoo your head."
"Huh?" Cat Eye looks blank. "What for?"
"Do it. Do it right now. You're making me fucking sick."
Cat Eye doesn't argue. Cat knows better than that. He doesn't tell Cecil you don't shampoo if you don't have hair. Even if you did, you didn't do it at the 7-Eleven store.
He takes off his shirt and lays it on the hood. Walks over to the gas tanks, turns on the hose. Takes the top off the shampoo.
The young kid running the store looks out. Sees Cecil and the Cat. Sees the lizard-green Cadillac. Decides he doesn't care to get into that.
Cecil drinks his Coke. Doesn't like the Mars. Likes the nuts fine, doesn't like white stuff inside.
One of the kids has a Cowboys gimme-cap, bill turned to the back.
"Why he doin' that," he asks Cecil. "How come he washin' his head?"
"'Cause he wants to," Cecil says.
"Man hasn't got any hair."
"Won't do any good," the other kid says, "man hasn't got any hair."
The kids go huk-huk-huk! Cover up their mouths to hold the giggles back. Pedal in circles round Cecil, laughing and looking at Cat.
"Stop it," Cecil said, "quit doing that."
"Doin' what?"
"Running over bugs."
"Ain't your bugs, man."
"You listening, kid? Don't squash the bugs. I don't like to hear you squashing bugs."
The first kid grins at his friend. "Better not squish no bugs. Lone don't like you squishin' bugs."
The other kid laughs.
Cecil says, "What? What'd you say to me?"
The kid's not dumb. The kid pedals quickly away, making a bigger circle with his friend.
"Called you Lone," says the friend. "Got you a mask and all, you the Lone Ranger, man."
"Where you Indian, where Tonto, man?"
"Tonto, he givin' hisself a sham-poo."
"Shit. Tonto ain't got any hair, can't get a sham-poo, man don't got any hair."
"Where your horse, man? Where Silver at, he waitin' in the car?"
The kids laugh and howl. They make big circles and run over crickets. Squish-squash-squish.
"Gimme the keys," Cecil says.
"What for?" Grape says.
"Gimme the keys, Grape."
Cecil holds out his hand and snatches the keys. Walks around and opens the trunk. Paws through beer cans and sacks, finds the Winchester, the 12-gauge pump.
"Cecil, that ain't a good idea."
"Get in the car. Get Cat, get him in the back."
"What I'd like you to do, I'd like you to think about this."
"I already did," Cecil says, racking a shell in the chamber, snack-snick! "Killing the poor is a blessing, Grape. What kinda life these little bastards gonna have, you ever think about that?"
"Yeah, but—"
"Going to grow up and have more little kids, that's what. Little assholes'll be running over bugs."
Cecil raises the weapon and fires. The butt slams into his shoulder, the barrel jerks up into the air. Cartons of Cokes are stacked in front of the store. The cartons explode in a hail of foam and glass.
The kids scream and howl, duck their heads and pedal for their lives. Cecil stands behind his car, coolly blasting one load and then another down the street. He fires until every shell is gone, until the kids are out of sight.
The boy in the 7-Eleven is down behind the counter on the floor. Cat's eyes are full of shampoo, he can't see a thing. He can hear someone shooting, he doesn't know what.
"Holy shit," Grape says, sitting in the car. He looks straight ahead, he doesn't look back. If Cecil has shot two little black boys, he doesn't want to know about that. He needed a drink half an hour ago, and he really needs it now...
Chapter Fourteen
J ack sat in the Yak.
Small explosions of fierce morning light pierced the thick green canopy above. One caught Jack, struck him dead center, stung him in the eye. "Thanks," Jack said, "I guess I needed that."
He
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