Read Online The Bear in a Muddy Tutu by Cole Alpaugh - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cole Alpaugh
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circle, holding the gun as if ready to blast away.
Billy Wayne dropped to his knees a nd shoved the gun between the m attress and box spring, as far as he could reach.
Satisfied, he stood and carefully removed his dark blue suit jacket, the back and armpits sweat-soaked, and used a woo den h anger to hang it in the narrow closet. He unbuttoned his best shirt and folded it on the bathroom counter, with plans to rinse it out later. He draped his pants over a chair next to the bed, then flicked on the television and stood scratching his testicles through his white underpants . The tube warmed up and showed a snowy Phillies baseball game.
Not able to follow the action and not really liking baseball anyway, Billy Wayne sat at the foot of the bed and flip ped through his book.
Step number thirteen in How t o Become a Cult Leader i n 50 Easy Steps : “Always be alert for opportunities to display your eminen ce . Put out a small fire, deliver a baby, or stop a purse snatching. Purchase a container of pepper spray and a small fire extinguisher and consider a midwif ery course at your local health clinic or community college. ”
He was sure he’d never be able to deliver a baby without passing out or throwing up a nd was afraid that if he start ed a fire , it might get out of control and he wouldn’t be able to put it out. He’d gone through a bit of a fire - starting stage as a teenager and didn’t want to risk tapping those old compulsions . Having the gun was already a better rush than setting things on fire, even without shooting at something.
Stopping a crime sounded intriguing and much more like ly now that he owned the weapon . Billy Wayne fantasized about walking into a bank during a hold up . The lone masked robber would have forced everyone to the floor, waving his own puny gun , much smaller than Billy Wayne’s. When the robber demanded Billy Wayne get down, he would just stand the re, glaring, refusing to obey. He ’d show off a deadly, quiet strength , just like when his dad had kicked him and his mom out. Instead of cowering on the floor with all the others, Billy Wayne would reach into his holster , pull out his .38 , and take aim.
“Go ahead, ” Billy Wayne would whisper harshly , “ make my day. ”
And every person in the bank would love Billy Wayne Hooduk. He would be an instant hero, bigger than a movie star. His picture would be on the front page of all the newspapers. He would use the reward money for a down payment on a secluded cabin out in the Pinelands, where people would beg to come and stay, just to be in Billy Wayne’ s presence and listen to his preaching, whatever that might be . He made a note to start trying to fill out that section of his book, since his time was getting closer and closer. A scension , was what his book called it.
The empty ice bucket in the bathroom reminded Billy Wayne of the humming machines next to the elevator. He grabbed the brown plastic bucket and leaned back into the closet to rummage for change and dollar bills in his pockets, snatched the key off the dresser top, and headed for the door. Billy Wayne paused, looking down over his pale round belly toward his dingy briefs , then back across the room to where his pants were draped over a chair . He decided it wasn’t worth the trouble ; the elevator wasn’t that far. He pulled open the door, ice bucket held like a football, and scurried toward the vending machines.
The ice dispenser was unplugged ; a note had been torn from over the bucket cradle with only the top left corner and a piece of tape remaining. A ll six little lights glowed red to indicate the Coke machine was also empty . Billy Wayne went to work at the snack machine, feeding dollar bills and pressing buttons for three Snickers bars, two small bags of Doritos, and chocolate covered pr etzels . C arefully packing them in the ice bucket , h e t urned to hurry back to his room but stumbled on a n upright vacuum cleaner abandoned in the hallway
Billy Wayne dropped to his knees a nd shoved the gun between the m attress and box spring, as far as he could reach.
Satisfied, he stood and carefully removed his dark blue suit jacket, the back and armpits sweat-soaked, and used a woo den h anger to hang it in the narrow closet. He unbuttoned his best shirt and folded it on the bathroom counter, with plans to rinse it out later. He draped his pants over a chair next to the bed, then flicked on the television and stood scratching his testicles through his white underpants . The tube warmed up and showed a snowy Phillies baseball game.
Not able to follow the action and not really liking baseball anyway, Billy Wayne sat at the foot of the bed and flip ped through his book.
Step number thirteen in How t o Become a Cult Leader i n 50 Easy Steps : “Always be alert for opportunities to display your eminen ce . Put out a small fire, deliver a baby, or stop a purse snatching. Purchase a container of pepper spray and a small fire extinguisher and consider a midwif ery course at your local health clinic or community college. ”
He was sure he’d never be able to deliver a baby without passing out or throwing up a nd was afraid that if he start ed a fire , it might get out of control and he wouldn’t be able to put it out. He’d gone through a bit of a fire - starting stage as a teenager and didn’t want to risk tapping those old compulsions . Having the gun was already a better rush than setting things on fire, even without shooting at something.
Stopping a crime sounded intriguing and much more like ly now that he owned the weapon . Billy Wayne fantasized about walking into a bank during a hold up . The lone masked robber would have forced everyone to the floor, waving his own puny gun , much smaller than Billy Wayne’s. When the robber demanded Billy Wayne get down, he would just stand the re, glaring, refusing to obey. He ’d show off a deadly, quiet strength , just like when his dad had kicked him and his mom out. Instead of cowering on the floor with all the others, Billy Wayne would reach into his holster , pull out his .38 , and take aim.
“Go ahead, ” Billy Wayne would whisper harshly , “ make my day. ”
And every person in the bank would love Billy Wayne Hooduk. He would be an instant hero, bigger than a movie star. His picture would be on the front page of all the newspapers. He would use the reward money for a down payment on a secluded cabin out in the Pinelands, where people would beg to come and stay, just to be in Billy Wayne’ s presence and listen to his preaching, whatever that might be . He made a note to start trying to fill out that section of his book, since his time was getting closer and closer. A scension , was what his book called it.
The empty ice bucket in the bathroom reminded Billy Wayne of the humming machines next to the elevator. He grabbed the brown plastic bucket and leaned back into the closet to rummage for change and dollar bills in his pockets, snatched the key off the dresser top, and headed for the door. Billy Wayne paused, looking down over his pale round belly toward his dingy briefs , then back across the room to where his pants were draped over a chair . He decided it wasn’t worth the trouble ; the elevator wasn’t that far. He pulled open the door, ice bucket held like a football, and scurried toward the vending machines.
The ice dispenser was unplugged ; a note had been torn from over the bucket cradle with only the top left corner and a piece of tape remaining. A ll six little lights glowed red to indicate the Coke machine was also empty . Billy Wayne went to work at the snack machine, feeding dollar bills and pressing buttons for three Snickers bars, two small bags of Doritos, and chocolate covered pr etzels . C arefully packing them in the ice bucket , h e t urned to hurry back to his room but stumbled on a n upright vacuum cleaner abandoned in the hallway
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