Gator Bowl (Biscuit Bowl Food Truck)

by J. J. Cook

  The area outside of town was completely wild—barely any paved roads, and vines growing everywhere. People lived long distances apart and kept to themselves. My imagination conjured up men with long beards making moonshine in tiny shacks.

  I always hoped my car wouldn’t break down.

  Crème Brûlée started complaining again. He was awake and ready to eat lunch. He probably needed a patch of grass, too. I hushed him and promised both as soon as we reached Uncle Saul’s cabin.

  “Big difference between here and the city,” Ollie remarked. “Your uncle really did want to leave it all behind. What does he do with himself out here?”

  “Well, it took him a couple of years to build his log cabin, and he has to keep repairing it. He does some hunting and fishing, and he has a ham radio. He likes to talk to people on it. His electricity doesn’t work very well, and he has to dig a new outhouse every so often. He tries to stay away from depending on ‘the man’ as much as he can.”

  “I get that.”

  I recognized the last turn that would take us from a graveled washboard road to a bumpy dirt track that would end up at my uncle’s house. The Prius didn’t appreciate that kind of abuse. It was definitely meant for city driving. It didn’t recognize anything but blacktop under its tires. I had to go very slowly.

  “Here we are!” I put my foot on the brake, and the car slid through a mudhole. “Oops! Sorry. You have to watch out for those.”

  I made a quick turn into what there was of Uncle Saul’s driveway and parked the car.

  We both got out, and I put Crème Brûlée on his leash. The front door to the cabin was open, but there was no sign of Uncle Saul. We checked through the empty cabin and investigated the rough-cut buildings behind the house with no luck. The place seemed deserted.

  “I don’t know where he is.” I bit my lip, worried. “He knew I’d be here about now.”

  Ollie opened his mouth to answer when a wild-looking man with a mop of curly gray-black hair came running through the woods holding a white alligator in his arms. Someone was behind him, calling out and firing buckshot into the trees.

  “Zoe!” Uncle Saul grinned as he ran by me. “We’d best get inside. Alabaster has been in Norman’s chicken coop again.”

  Chapter Two

  The white alligator wasn’t more than three feet long—Uncle Saul held her under his arm. Alabaster grinned and rolled her blue eyes as though she found the whole thing amusing. Uncle Saul ran through the front door of the cabin, still holding her, with me and Ollie on his heels.

  “Norman gets a little bothered when Alabaster eats a few chickens.” He put his pet on the rough wood floor. “You’d think he wouldn’t mind so much since I always buy him new ones.”

  Buckshot flew against the side of the cabin, one shot pinging the window but not breaking it. “Get out here, Saul! Face me like a man!”

  “He sounds more than a little bothered,” Ollie said.

  Uncle Saul turned to him with a smile. “I don’t think we’ve met, son. I’m Saul Chase. You must be Zoe’s beau.”

  Ollie glanced at me before shaking his hand. “Not exactly. Zoe picked me up on the road, and asked if I’d like to join you all here for some cooking and refurbishing. I’m Ollie.”

  Uncle Saul’s concerned stare hit me like a truck. “Is this true, Zoe?”

  “Yes. Ollie is a very good person. I think he’ll be a big help.”

  “Maybe so.” Uncle Saul’s eyes narrowed as he observed Ollie again. “What’s your family name?”

  “I don’t have one, sir. Circumstances made me give it up. No big deal. I like Ollie best anyway.”

  “Look, son . . .” Uncle Saul opened his mouth to continue, but another shot from Norman’s gun interrupted.

  “I’m not going away,” Norman shouted. “That’s twice in the last two days that gator ate my chickens.”

  “Excuse me.” Uncle Saul smiled at us before he stepped out on the porch, seemingly not worried about the possibility of being shot. “I always buy you new chickens, Norman. What’s the big deal?”

  Norman Lowder was a man of medium height and weight with thick brown hair that looked as though it had never seen a comb. He was wearing worn bib overalls without a shirt (or maybe anything else) under them. His face and clothes were covered in mud. “You can’t replace these, Saul. I’ve been grooming them for the county fair. They were a special breed—had to send all the way to Nebraska to get them. Biggest eggs in the county.”

  Uncle Saul shrugged. “So we’ll send to Nebraska to get more.”

  “You just don’t get it, do you? You can’t let that thing wander around free eating whatever it wants to. Suppose I had something that could eat that gator. How would you feel then?”

  “To start with, Alabaster is a rare reptile, not a thing. And there isn’t anything that could eat her short of an anaconda, or a bigger gator. So quit flapping your lips, and let’s go up to the feed and seed and order more chickens.”

  I peeked carefully out the window as a police car rolled slowly into the yard. “I think this time might be more serious.”

  A short man in a uniform—he always reminded me of Barney Fife from The Andy Griffith Show—got out of the old white Chevy marked Farmville Police. He hitched up his tan pants. “What’s going on out here, gents? Norman, put that gun down.”

  “That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard anyone say,” Ollie remarked.

  “Thanks, Billy.” Uncle Saul nodded toward the police officer as he started down the stairs.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Officer Billy Smith cautioned. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had this problem, Saul. I’m guessing Alabaster ate a few more chickens.”

  Norman went off again on how the chickens weren’t ordinary and that he wanted to press charges against Saul and Alabaster. “Take them into custody, Billy. I’m tired of playing this game.”

  Alabaster, by this time, was at Saul’s feet. The alligator followed him around like a puppy, except for when it went off and ate chickens. She hissed and growled at Norman and the officer. Both men took a step back.

  “I’m not taking an alligator into custody, Norman,” Officer Smith told him. “And we don’t arrest people for the stupid things their pets do, or I’d have to arrest my wife for her cats tearing up the house all the time.”

  Everyone knew that his wife, Marlene, had twelve cats living with them. Billy was always complaining about them to everyone—except his wife.

  “But this can’t continue, Saul. You have to find some way to keep Alabaster out of Norman’s chicken coop. You might need to tie her up, or build some kind of enclosure she can’t get out of.”

  Norman wasn’t satisfied with that. “That gator is not a pet. It’s a wild animal. I’m calling the game warden if you won’t man up and do something about this, Billy. I’ll see you in court, Saul.”

  Ollie and I stepped out on the porch with Uncle Saul as Norman stalked out of the yard. Officer Smith shrugged his shoulders as he approached. “You got to do something else, Saul. This isn’t working. She’s bigger now, and she eats more.”

  “I know,” Uncle Saul admitted, his face downcast. “I’m gonna have to lock her up. She’s not gonna like it.”

  “At least she doesn’t have a shotgun and a big mouth,” Billy said. “I think Norman is serious this time. I hope you’re ready.”

  Officer Smith nodded to Ollie and me before he went back to his car.

  “Now what?” Ollie asked as the old Chevy chugged out of the yard.

  “Now life goes on.” Uncle Saul grinned. “I think you all came up to work on the Airstream, right? Let’s take a look at her.”

  “What about Alabaster?” I asked.

  “She’ll be fine. I’ll get some fencing and make her a nice mudhole. It might not be as good as wandering around the woods, but it will have to do.”r />
  Uncle Saul seemed determined to ignore what had happened. Alabaster followed us to one of the outbuildings behind the cabin. I carried Crème Brûlée, despite his fussing about it. I wasn’t sure what kind of mood Alabaster was in. She may have needed to eat more than a few chickens.

  “I never realized a gator could move so fast,” Ollie remarked as the gator kept up with us.

  “Why do you think they’re so good at killing?” Uncle Saul pushed open a coarse wood door. “They’re even faster in the water.”

  “How’d you find a white one?” Ollie asked.

  “She wandered up on my porch one morning. Scared the bejeezus out of me. I think she was after my chickens—I kept chickens back then. She seems to have a thing for white meat. Norman is just lucky he doesn’t keep pigs.”

  I touched his shoulder. “You know pork isn’t really white meat, right?”

  “Looks white to me.” Uncle Saul walked into the shed. “Well, here she is. I used her many times when I still had the restaurant in Mobile. We’d go out to ball games, fairs, that kind of thing. I couldn’t do much as far as food went. She’s kind of small inside. But I think she’ll work for your food truck.”

  The silver Airstream motorhome was weathered and had a few dents, but it was basically in good condition. The back end had been removed and replaced with a large door to take supplies inside. The front area had two seats with an indentation in the middle where Crème Brûlée could sleep.

  “I haven’t had her out of the shed in years.” Uncle Saul smoothed his large hand across the rough silver surface. “She was running when I put her in here—I don’t see any reason why she shouldn’t run now.”

  The Airstream would need a serving window cut into the side of the body. It appeared as though Uncle Saul had served food out of the back door, but he’d only used it ocasionally. But I could see the possibilities.

  “This looks great. Can we try the engine?”

  Uncle Saul flipped Ollie a set of keys. “Try it out, son. Zoe, want to take a look at the kitchen?”

  I was ready for that.

  Ollie opened the back door—it almost fell off in his hands. “That might need some work.”

  I knew the engine was important, too, but I was more interested in the cooking area. I stepped inside and examined the tiny counter, sink, deep fryer, and grill. I might not need the grill, but I could replace that with a microwave. It was in bad shape. Most of it would have to be replaced. I hoped we could get some parts used to cut down on expenses.

  “What kind of food are you thinking of making, honey?” Uncle Saul asked me.

  “The kind we love. Good home cooking. Definitely biscuits, since I’m good at those.”

  “You certainly are!” Uncle Saul hugged me. “Are you thinking egg biscuits and such?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m searching for my signature food that every truck needs. Biscuits are my best, but there are so many people serving biscuits.”

  “I guess we’ll have to come up with something different that still keeps your biscuits in the menu.” He whispered, “Are you sure about this Ollie guy?”

  “You know that I have your gift.” I smiled and kissed his cheek. “I always know the good ones when I see them.”

  “He’s a little old for you, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t want to marry him. Really! I just gave him a ride, and he said he wanted to come with me. He seems a little lost, Uncle Saul. He might need my help.”

  “Oh, Zoe girl—everyone needs help. You can’t help the world, though. I tried. It brings you nothing but sorrow.”

  I thought about the woman who people said made Uncle Saul give up his restaurant. Was he thinking about her?

  Ollie joined us in the kitchen. “The engine looks clean. Should I start her up?”

  “Go ahead. Let’s see if the years have been kind to her.”

  We joined Ollie at the front of the Airstream. He got inside and turned the key. The engine sputtered and chugged. It ran for a few minutes and then died.

  “Sounds good to me!” Ollie stuck his head out of the window and held his thumb up.

  “How’d that sound to you?” I asked my uncle.

  “How long did you say you were staying?” He frowned. “It might take a little more work than I’d planned.”

  “I’m not working yet, officially, so however long it takes is fine.” I thought about all the bills I still had to pay without the benefit of a paycheck. “Unless I use up all my money. That wouldn’t be so good. I still have rent due on the apartment the first of the month, and my car payment is due. But otherwise, I’m free and clear.”

  Uncle Saul hugged me. “That’s the spirit! Let’s go into town for some parts.”

  “And food,” I reminded him. “We’re supposed to be looking for my signature food. I guess the best way to do that is to fool around in the kitchen.”

  “You think I’d let you come here without stocking up?”

  “I should’ve guessed. Okay. Let’s go get parts.”

  Crème Brûlée wasn’t happy about going with us after the long trip to get there. I had to be insistent, which meant we had to take my car. Uncle Saul refused to ride in the backseat. He re-installed the cat seat in the back beside Ollie. Crème Brûlée seemed content being where he was. I reconsidered my ideas on him riding in front all the time. He could be a little distracting.

  Uncle Saul carefully put Alabaster in the house where she couldn’t get out.

  “So what kind of biscuits are they making in Mobile these days?” Uncle Saul asked as we drove toward town.

  “Good biscuits but they usually go with a meal. I need something different with biscuits. I’ve looked everywhere for ideas. I keep hoping something will jump out at me.”

  “What about cheese biscuits?” Ollie asked. “Everybody loves a good cheese biscuit.”

  “That’s the problem! Everyone loves them—so everyone makes them. Three of the food trucks in Mobile have cheese biscuits.” I smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “But thanks.”

  We talked about various ways to serve biscuits all the way into Farmville. Ollie suggested making biscuits with jelly and other sweets baked into the dough. Uncle Saul liked the idea of a more savory biscuit such as the ones served with grits and gravy.

  I realized that neither man understood the high level of competition I’d be facing as soon as I got my truck out on the streets.

  The food truck industry had been going strong around Mobile for a year or two. They’d developed specific target foods for their customers such as Charlie’s Tuna Shack, Terry’s Tacky Tacos, and Yolanda’s Yummy Yogurt. It would be business suicide to compete with any of them head-on.

  There were at least ten food trucks that served biscuits as a sideline to their main course. I wanted my biscuits to be the main product. But they had to be special—more than just great biscuits with butter and jelly.

  The parts store in Farmville was busy. Rough-looking men with long beards were going in and out, greeting one another from longtime acquaintance.

  I noticed right away that the place got quiet when we walked in. I thought it was me and Ollie at first. Then the man at the parts counter dropped his smile and greeted Uncle Saul with a frosty attitude.

  “Help you with something?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Uncle Saul smiled. “I need a distributor and some wires, maybe spark plugs, for an Airstream motorhome.”

  “I’ll check to see if we have that. Have you got the model and year?”

  Uncle Saul handed him a piece of paper that had all the information on it. Then we waited while the man looked to see what he had.

  Three of the men who’d been in the store when we got there hung around, staring at us. Ollie kind of puffed up, folding his arms across his chest, looking mean and tough. He obviously didn’t like people st
aring at him.

  “Heard that gator of yours ate more of Norman’s chickens this morning.” One man grinned as he said it.

  Uncle Saul turned to him. “It happens sometimes.”

  “Not if it’s a pair of boots.” The obnoxious man laughed and nudged his friend with his elbow.

  “You realize how rare a white alligator is, don’t you?” Uncle Saul tried to explain his attachment to Alabaster. “There are only about a dozen albino alligators in the world.”

  The obnoxious man’s friend turned serious. “Yeah, well, Norman’s chickens were a prize-winning breed, too. I think that gator of yours went too far.”

  The parts man behind the counter returned as the men were having a staring contest. “Take it outside. There’s not enough room in here for a fight.”

  Uncle Saul turned back to him. “I have no intention of fighting anyone.” He took the parts that were in boxes. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Let me take care of that.” I stepped up. “I don’t want you to pay to fix the Airstream for me.”

  “I’ll take care of things and we’ll settle up later, Zoe.” Uncle Saul paid the parts man and we left the store.

  But the hecklers inside followed us to my Prius. I’d left all the windows open for Crème Brûlée, who was happily napping in the backseat. I just wanted to get in my car and drive away, but that wasn’t happening.

  Heckler number one said, “I hear the game warden is taking that gator into custody.”

  “Yeah,” the second heckler added. “Maybe we’ll have us a gator hunt.”

  Uncle Saul ignored them and got in the car. Ollie glared at the men, who were half his size. The hecklers didn’t back down. I was deciding if I should pull him into the car to get away or leave without him.

  Finally, he jerked his head forward and made a loud barking sound that sent the other two men back a pace or two. Apparently satisfied, he got in the backseat.

  “Do you have any friends here, Saul?” Ollie asked.

  “One or two. They’ll be over for dinner tonight. Not everyone in Farmville has a thing against Alabaster. Those two are friends of Norman’s.”