Chapter 22

Mule was sprawled out on the mattress on the bottom of Squiggy's cellar, drinking a beer. She was still next to him, breathing hard.

"Whoo!" she said.

Mule smiled. It had been a good one. She was like the girl of his dreams, a knockout who actually seemed to like him. When he dropped his pants, she was a little concerned but decided to take the Mule challenge.

"You tore the mattress," Mule said. There were several claw marks on the cheap mattress, revealing the stuffing inside.

"I got a little excited. We'll turn the mattress over and maybe your friend won't know."

They crawled off the mattress and Mule flipped it over. Not a good idea. There was mold and dirt caked on the other side.

"Ugh," she said. "We best turn it over."

Mule did so and hoped Squiggy wouldn't mind. He probably wouldn't believe the story, but Mule would share every little detail, of course. He tried not to stare at her melons, but found it hard to look away. They were perfect, the kind he had only seen in magazines prior to today.

"Why are you looking at my boobs?" she asked. Her hair was hanging down over the front of her face. Their clothes were scattered all over the inside of the cellar.

"They's nice!" he said.

"Thanks. I like em."

"I can see why. And they's real?"

"Oh yeah. I ain't ever seen the need for one of them boob jobs."

"You don't need one."

She giggled. "What's your name?"

"Mule."

"I can see why."

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Sally Sue."

"Naw, your real name."

"That is my real name. My last name's Betty."

"You got three first names."

She nodded. "We best get going. My husband will be home soon."

Mule about spewed his beer again. "You's married?"

"Sure. Ain't you?"

"Naw." Mule grew a little worried. Most husbands don't particularly care for their wife sleeping with other guys and he tried not to bed the married ones.

"He won't know," she said. "I bet he'll be drunk when he gets home."

"You ain't wearin no ring."

"Naw, he had to pawn it to get the electricity turned on and didn't bother to claim it."

She scooted off the bed and started getting dressed. Mule's thoughts of a torrid affair had died down. He was hoping they might actually be boyfriend and girlfriend, but her marital status probably put a damper on all that.

Mule got dressed and pulled the sheet over the mattress to try and cover up the claw marks. They drove back to town and she let him out at his house. He wanted to go to The Last Call, but was hurting a little. She had clawed his back along with the bed.

For the next two weeks, Mule pretty much hung out at the house, hoping Sally Sue would come visit. She must be busy being married, Mule decided. He was really getting worried about Squiggy, still no word from his friend.

It was Christmas Eve. Mule and his mother were sitting out on the front porch, sharing the special time with each other while drinking eggnog spiked with Everclear. He let one of the kittens drink some a little earlier and it was passed out on the steps, looking like a slinky.

"Merry Christmas Eve, Mommy," Mule said.

She grunted. "Gimme some more of that there eggnoggin."

She always called it that. Mule tried to correct her, but it did little good. He filled her styrofoam cup again and watched her down it in one drink.

Mule looked at the other end of the porch. He had cut down a small cedar tree from the neighbor's yard and put it on the porch, tied up with rope to keep it standing. There was a strand of blinking lights from a house on the east side that Mule borrowed when they weren't home.

"Ain't the tree pretty?" Mule asked.

"Little small. I think you killed the kitten."

"Naw, he's just sleepin."

"I don't think you's supposed to let cats drink everclear."

The other kittens were checking on their fallen friend. That couldn't be too comfortable, slouched down over two steps like that.

He heard the roar of an engine from down the block. Mule jerked up on the couch. That sounded familiar. Could it be? The truck was flying down the road toward their house. It skidded to a stop out front and Mule jumped up.

It was! Squiggy was back! Mule went down the steps in a flash, accidentally stepping on the kitten, who never stirred.

"Squiggy!" he hollered. His friend emerged from the truck, carrying a sack. Mule ran up to him and hugged his friend.

"Calm down, Mule," Squiggy said. "I ain't much on huggin guys."

Mule stepped back and looked his friend over. "Boy, I missed you!"

"Thanks," Squiggy said. "Is that cat dead?"

Mule turned around to look at the kitten. "I'm afraid I killed it."

"You want me to toss it in the dumpster?"

Psycho barked from inside the truck. She was licking the inside of the window, making it hard to see her.

"Naw, it might wake up. I banged a hot chick!"

Squiggy nodded. He doubted the woman was all that much.

"On the mattress in your cellar!" Mule added.

That explained the ruined mattress, Squiggy decided. It looked like some animal had attacked it.

"Who was she?" Squiggy asked.

"Sally Sue something," Mule replied. "I can't member her last name."

"You didn't nail Sally Sue! She's like real hot."

"Yep, I did. Twice."

"You's kidding."

"Naw, we had innercourse."

"Man, they oughta bronze you's unit and put it on a plaque."

"How come?" Mule asked.

"Never mind."

"Where you been?"

"I took a vacation."

"Your boss gives you vacations?"

"Not really. I called in sick. Had to bail on Langford for a little while. Only came back to file for the school board."

"You's running for the school board?"

"Thought I would. I'd vote if I knew how."

"I run evertime they's an election. Last year, I got five votes for the city council."

"Did you win?"

Squiggy looked at his friend for a few seconds. "Naw, I only got five votes. The chick got over three hundred."

"But five votes ain't bad."

"They was all by me."

Mule nodded. He didn't really know much about the election process, or care. "I'd vote for you cept I can't."

"Yeah, you can."

"I didn't think they'd let dummies vote."

"They even let dummies run. How'd you figger some of our presidents got elected?'

Mule shrugged. "Hang on, I got something for you!" He took off into the house. Squiggy stayed in the same location, not wanting to get any closer to Mule's mother.

"You got any beer?" she hollered.

"A few."

"We's bout outta the eggnog. Lemme have one."

Squiggy frowned. He was actually blessed with almost a case, but didn't want to share any with this foul woman. "Get yer own."

"Can't. They figgered out I was usin my food stamps for beer and cut me off."

Mule emerged from the house and avoided the kitten this time. He was carrying a large wooden object. Mule handed it to his friend. Squiggy looked at it. There was some kind of writing on it that he couldn't make out. "I can't read it."

He moved closer to the porch and used the light from the midget Christmas tree to read the sign. It was engraved with the following words: MULE & SQUIGEE, FREINZ 4EVER!

Squiggy was moved, even with the misspelling of his name. "That's nice," he said. Mule was looking back at him, smiling broadly. He dug in the sack and came out with a beer. "Here, I got you a beer. Merry Christmas."

Mule looked down at the beer, turning it around to look at it. "Look Mommy!" he hollered, holding the beer up. "Squiggy got me a beer for Christmas!"

"Cheap turd," his mother offered. "He won't even give me a beer!"

Mule turned to look at his friend. "I'll keep this forever! You mind if Mommy has a beer?"

Squiggy dug in the sack and got one out. "Here."

He took the beer and tossed it to his mother. Apparently, she was either too drunk or the lights distracted her. The can thunked her right between the eyes.

"Ow!" she hollered, loud enough to wake up the neighbors, but not the kitten.

"Sorry, Mommy!"

"Ya idjit!"

"Let's go," Squiggy said.

"Where we goin?" Mule asked.

"It's one of them surprise things."

"Good. I like surprises. Do I need to change?"

Squiggy looked at his friend's attire. He was wearing a pair of sweats that were way too small and dirty. His tee-shirt looked like it had been attacked by moths. Mule was wearing house slippers that were way too small and his hair looked like it had not been washed in months.

"You might wanna get rid of them slippers and put on shoes," Squiggy said. "And change into some jeans and a nice shirt. Combin that hair wouldn't hurt neither."

Mule looked puzzled. "I ain't got nothing nice cept my camo shirts. Would that work?"

"Sure."

Mule disappeared into the house. Squiggy wasn't sure but thought he saw a knot coming up on the woman's head, right between her eyes. She almost looked like a fat cyclops.

They stared at each other for several minutes before Mule came back out on the porch, dressed in camo shirt, pants and hunting boots. He had wet his hair down, not that it improved his appearance all that much.

"Let's go!" Mule said. He was almost giddy. Mule was going to get to spend time with Squiggy again. All was right with the world. The two men walked out to the truck and got in.

"Hee hee," Squiggy said. He was looking back at the porch. Mule's mother had opened the can and beer was spewing everywhere. She was trying to point the beer into her mouth but was spraying it everywhere.

"Mommy's a spillin her beer," Mule said.

"All over herself." Psycho was smelling of Mule and apparently the residue of dead animals on the camo clothes were to her liking.

"Gimme a hint about where we's goin."

"Okay," Squiggy said. He fired up a truck and started driving away. "It's in Roland."

"We's goin to the bingo parlor?"

"Not hardly."

Chapter 23