Appalachian Galapagos

by Ochse, Weston

  Kenny Joe grinned at his brother. "There ain't nothin' like a man threatening to whip some ass whilst he cries like a little itty bitty baby. Lookie at them tear tracks. You would think someone stole his cookie, or somethin'."

  "Eat shit, Kenny Joe! I'll whup your ass, too! Fuckin' dead!"

  "I must agree," Bailey said, smirking. "Judd is gonna just be happy to be alive when we get back down. In fact—"

  Bailey's chair ripped and he fell downwards about four feet in a flash of speed. Only a very thin rope held his seat, and he swayed back and forth, his gigantic belly heaving up and down.

  Bailey hung from the edge of his chair by his red suspenders that had caught on the side. He shrieked in a pitch that could only be described as that of a young woman in a little blue party dress.

  All the while they continued to descend.

  "Ha! You fat fuck! See what happens?" Judd shrieked from within Max's arms. "Now who's your daddy? Fuckin' dead!"

  Bailey looked over at Judd, staring in deadpan silence. He looked up at his brother, and then back downwards. Another shriek fired from Bailey's big lips, and waved his short arms around madly. He bounced up and down from the elastic in the suspenders, furry belly quivering.

  It was as if Bailey had just realized he was flying around in a homemade balloon made of duct tape and lawn chairs.

  A crow landed on the open cooler and stared at the men below, its head cocking curiously to the side.

  Max looked up at the bird nervously. "Kenny Joe, you best get that thing the hell away!"

  Kenny Joe shooed it away with the gun and it flew downward with a caw, landing on Bailey's right suspender. It pecked him in the back of the head twice.

  Judd pointed and laughed, but Bailey did not seem to notice, choosing instead to continue his sissified screeching and seizure-like shaking of his arms.

  Kenny Joe, wanting to help his brother, aimed his gun at the crow and pulled the trigger two times.

  Both BBs thunked Bailey in the ass and he thrashed around rabidly—his voice going to high places even the most seasoned of opera singers had not gone.

  The crow flew upwards and Kenny Joe followed it with the barrel of the gun, teeth clenched, pulling the trigger furiously. Three more balloons popped as the friendly fire hit.

  They went down like a meteor, the men wailing in unison—the colorful balloons whipping around behind them like the tail of a psychedelic comet.

  The ground was coming up fast.

  At the speed they were sinking, they would certainly not live.

  It appeared they would land right inside the local stadium. A charity baseball game was in progress, and though they were still far above, they could hear the roar of the crowds below.

  Kenny Joe reached down and cut one of the ropes, sending a cinderblock plunging to the ground below as if it was in slow motion.

  The balloon descended at a much slower pace. The brick landed harmlessly on the grass below, but the crowd looked up all at once.

  They were now about three hundred feet above the spectators.

  "Just what in the hell is that thing!" they heard the announcer boom below.

  Suddenly, they could see a close-up of Bailey's invention on the gigantic view screen below.

  They were still coming down at the ground much too fast.

  Kenny Joe cut another cinderblock and it fell into the parting crowd below. Luckily, no one seemed to have been injured.

  The balloon stopped sinking and just hovered above the stadium for a moment—the crowd watching with held breath and low murmurs. The camera was now on Judd's crying and tear-streaked face.

  The balloon was hovering only about fifteen feet from the awestruck faces of the crowd.

  There was a loud snap as Bailey's suspenders finally gave away.

  The men watched their plump friend plummet into the crowd with a blaring shriek. The crowd parted around Bailey, and he hit the bleachers with a dense thud, the air rushing from his screaming mouth in a rush.

  It was as if God had turned off Bailey's shriek with a remote control mute button. A few more feet and Bailey would have landed in the much softer grass.

  The balloon, minus Bailey's considerable weight, took off like a rocket, pulling the screaming men into the sky like life-size action figures.

  Kenny Joe fired the BB gun into the balloons and three more popped.

  Bailey's contraption seemed to give a dying gasp and then plummeted downwards.

  It landed in the Astroturf with a solid, almost anti-climactic thump. A few tense minutes later, Max and Kenny Joe climbed out from the kaleidoscopic balloons, dragging an unconscious Judd with them.

  Bailey was still lying on a bleacher seat a few feet away, small squeaks emitting from above his bearded, double chin.

  One week later:

  "I ain't never going anywhere with a Butler brother again," Judd said, sipping a beer with his good arm. His other arm was in a cast, as was his right leg. "No way. No how."

  They were once again sitting in the back yard, a cooler of beer on the grass beside the picnic table. John Wayne was sitting a few feet away, watching the men as if they were his favorite TV show.

  Bailey was grinning. He had somehow survived without even breaking a bone, though his back was a bit sore. "Not true, Judd. You'll have to go with us to the hearin' next month."

  Max sighed. "I don't even think it's the Butler brothers anyway, Judd. You just seem to live a little bit more left of center than the rest of us. And did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, the bad luck might stem from all that beer you drink?"

  Kenny Joe came out of the screen door his perpetual beer can clutched in his fist. "Don't be blamin' nothing on us, Judd. I bet you if you didn't go up in that balloon with us, things would have been just fine."

  "Fine my ass," Judd said. "That thing was a disaster from the second the very idea entered your brother's mind."

  Bailey sat back and put his thumbs in his suspenders, rubbing John Wayne with the front of his shoe. "Look at it this way, Judd. You ain't dead yet. And the way things is happenin', it's beginnin' to look like you can't die. Maybe God just likes you as his toy. And I gotta admit, watching him play with ya is downright entertainin'."

  Max nodded. "Maybe you should just go with the flow, my friend. Just play with the cards you get dealt."

  Kenny Joe held out his beer. "I propose a toast to my friend Judd. God's personal toy and plaything."

  The men held their beers out and clanked them together before taking a long sip.

  Judd joined in as well, looking up at the sky nervously. Things weren't so bad, he supposed. He had his life and he had his friends. He held his beer can into the sky, saluting Him. "At least life ain't borin'. Even if it does seem like I'm a Warner Brothers cartoon character."

  "I must agree," Bailey said.

  The men drank long into the night, knowing full well their live-action cartoon was far from over.