Read Online The Two-Bear Mambo by Joe R. Lansdale - Free Book Online
Authors: Joe R. Lansdale
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Gay, Mystery & Detective, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Mystery, Private Investigators, Mystery Fiction, Fiction - Mystery, Mystery & Detective - General, Texas, Friendship, Mystery & Detective - Series, Gay Men, racism, Collins; Hap (Fictitious character), Pine; Leonard (Fictitious character), Private investigators - Texas
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Shirt.
"Well," I said, "I don't get through here much. Buy you fellas some coffee?"
"Naw," said the other one. "We've had coffee."
"Lots of it," said Paisley Shirt.
"I don't know about you," I said, "but lots of coffee makes me nervous. In fact, maybe I shouldn't have got coffee with my lunch. I've had too much this morning already."
"You look a little nervous," said Paisley Shirt. "Maybe you ought to give up coffee altogether."
"I just might," I said.
"Me and my brother," said Paisley Shirt, "we don't have trouble with coffee. We don't have trouble with beer, wine, or whiskey."
"What about Christmas ants?" I said. "You got Christmas ant trouble, I know two guys you ought to meet."
"Christmas ants?" said Bad Mustache.
The woman called from the back then. Her voice was a little halfhearted, like she was calling a dog she figured had gotten run over. "Y'all go back and sit down, now."
"We're all right, Mama," said Paisley Shirt.
"Mama?" I said.
"Uh huh," said Bad Mustache. "What's this about Christmas ants?"
"Little bastards are serious trouble where I come from," I said. "You think fire ants are hell, you get into some of them Christmas ants, well, those buggers won't never let go."
"I ain't never heard of no Christmas ants," said Paisley Shirt.
"Neither had most anybody else in LaBorde until yesterday," I said. "But you'll read about it in the papers today or tomorrow, see it on the news. They're epidemic there. Brought in from Mexico, they think. In a crate of bananas. Or a shipment of cigars. They're deadly dudes, these Christmas ants."
"Wait a minute," said Bad Mustache. "Is that like them ants in that movie where they take over this plantation and this guy—"
"Charlton Heston," I said.
"Yeah, I guess . . . you've seen it?"
"Yep," I said. "And that's exactly what I'm talking about. But that was only a picture. They couldn't show it the way it is. I tell you, LaBorde's a mess. I think the loss of life is in the hundreds. Maybe the thousands by now. The guy in the car, Doctor Pine. He's from the government. World's expert on Christmas ants. One reason he's passed out is he's been up all night battling them. He lost."
"A nigger expert?" said Paisley. "There's your goddamn problem."
"I don't know," I said. "He had some good ideas, but the ants were too entrenched. I'll be honest with you. I work for the city there. Water Department. We were the first to catch on to the epidemic. Lots of people don't give us credit. They don't think much of the Water Department, but they don't know the things we see. Alligators. Snakes. Christmas ants. You can't drown those little bastards. The Christmas ants, I mean. And you better not have a banana, or some kind of fruit in your house. They track to the stuff like a pig to corn. Anyway, what I was saying is this. I'm not going back. Dr. Pine out there wants to go back, and he can if he wants, but not me. The ants have gotten too goddamn big for this cowboy."
"They grow?" said Paisley Shirt.
I smiled. "Look, it's not a science-fiction movie. It's not like they're ten feet tall. That's bullshit. They only get about the size of a rat. Some of them do, I mean. Most of them, they're more mouse or mole size."
"Naw," said Bad Mustache. "You're pulling our dicks."
"I wouldn't think of pulling your dick," I said. "Listen here, I wouldn't have believed it either had I not been there. These ants, they don't get that big in their own environment. But they thrive here. No one knew that until this week. What they've discovered, and it's something no one would have suspected, is that the tropical weather was keeping them small. They get a little cold snap, bam, they're big as rodents. It has something to do with the way they eat and the way their metabolism deals with the natural sugars and starches in human flesh."
"Human flesh?" Bad Mustache said.
"Uh huh," I said. "It's not a horror movie where they swarm someone and eat every inch of skin off of them. But they leave bad
"Well," I said, "I don't get through here much. Buy you fellas some coffee?"
"Naw," said the other one. "We've had coffee."
"Lots of it," said Paisley Shirt.
"I don't know about you," I said, "but lots of coffee makes me nervous. In fact, maybe I shouldn't have got coffee with my lunch. I've had too much this morning already."
"You look a little nervous," said Paisley Shirt. "Maybe you ought to give up coffee altogether."
"I just might," I said.
"Me and my brother," said Paisley Shirt, "we don't have trouble with coffee. We don't have trouble with beer, wine, or whiskey."
"What about Christmas ants?" I said. "You got Christmas ant trouble, I know two guys you ought to meet."
"Christmas ants?" said Bad Mustache.
The woman called from the back then. Her voice was a little halfhearted, like she was calling a dog she figured had gotten run over. "Y'all go back and sit down, now."
"We're all right, Mama," said Paisley Shirt.
"Mama?" I said.
"Uh huh," said Bad Mustache. "What's this about Christmas ants?"
"Little bastards are serious trouble where I come from," I said. "You think fire ants are hell, you get into some of them Christmas ants, well, those buggers won't never let go."
"I ain't never heard of no Christmas ants," said Paisley Shirt.
"Neither had most anybody else in LaBorde until yesterday," I said. "But you'll read about it in the papers today or tomorrow, see it on the news. They're epidemic there. Brought in from Mexico, they think. In a crate of bananas. Or a shipment of cigars. They're deadly dudes, these Christmas ants."
"Wait a minute," said Bad Mustache. "Is that like them ants in that movie where they take over this plantation and this guy—"
"Charlton Heston," I said.
"Yeah, I guess . . . you've seen it?"
"Yep," I said. "And that's exactly what I'm talking about. But that was only a picture. They couldn't show it the way it is. I tell you, LaBorde's a mess. I think the loss of life is in the hundreds. Maybe the thousands by now. The guy in the car, Doctor Pine. He's from the government. World's expert on Christmas ants. One reason he's passed out is he's been up all night battling them. He lost."
"A nigger expert?" said Paisley. "There's your goddamn problem."
"I don't know," I said. "He had some good ideas, but the ants were too entrenched. I'll be honest with you. I work for the city there. Water Department. We were the first to catch on to the epidemic. Lots of people don't give us credit. They don't think much of the Water Department, but they don't know the things we see. Alligators. Snakes. Christmas ants. You can't drown those little bastards. The Christmas ants, I mean. And you better not have a banana, or some kind of fruit in your house. They track to the stuff like a pig to corn. Anyway, what I was saying is this. I'm not going back. Dr. Pine out there wants to go back, and he can if he wants, but not me. The ants have gotten too goddamn big for this cowboy."
"They grow?" said Paisley Shirt.
I smiled. "Look, it's not a science-fiction movie. It's not like they're ten feet tall. That's bullshit. They only get about the size of a rat. Some of them do, I mean. Most of them, they're more mouse or mole size."
"Naw," said Bad Mustache. "You're pulling our dicks."
"I wouldn't think of pulling your dick," I said. "Listen here, I wouldn't have believed it either had I not been there. These ants, they don't get that big in their own environment. But they thrive here. No one knew that until this week. What they've discovered, and it's something no one would have suspected, is that the tropical weather was keeping them small. They get a little cold snap, bam, they're big as rodents. It has something to do with the way they eat and the way their metabolism deals with the natural sugars and starches in human flesh."
"Human flesh?" Bad Mustache said.
"Uh huh," I said. "It's not a horror movie where they swarm someone and eat every inch of skin off of them. But they leave bad
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