Beast Machine

by Brad McKinniss

  To add to his illicit drug use and hooker fancies, Southwyck uses his father’s power as Pine Bluff’s main land owner to force local stores to grant him special treatment – like eating as much food as he wants at the local hamburger joint, receiving free medication for ailments he doesn’t have, and not having to pay for traffic tickets, among other things. There is certainly evidence that Southwyck has had several dalliances with underage girls, but only chat logs of conversations Southwyck has had with the underage girls could be found.

  Despite his transgressions, the majority of people from Pine Bluff, and Arkansas at large, looked past his sins and thought about how many wins he helped the Razorbacks achieve over twenty-five years ago. They couldn’t jail a state-wide hero!

  Ryan wore an all red suit with a white shirt. His tie, also red, was adorned with the University of Arkansas Razorback logo. If this weren’t a red state, he would be seen as a crazy loon with his getup. Southwyck’s entourage wore matching red suits and sat in the closest chairs to the stage.

  To Chairman Obelis’ right was the democratic candidate, Felicia Steenburgen. Ms. Steenburgen was a staunch social-liberal that would be fighting an uphill battle in a traditionally conservative state. Steenburgen was not a horrible human being, like Southwyck, she was just merely outmatched by Southwyck’s experience in political affairs; Southwyck was an excellent bully and a supreme crybaby when he wasn’t addled by coke or dope.

  The Democratic Party didn’t really feel like putting their best effort in The Natural State’s governorship, opting to put forth a weak candidate. It just wasn’t in their interest to try to win this political race, therefore not sending a single dime or advisor to help Steenburgen.

  Steenburgen was not fazed by this predicament and wanted to put forth her best effort, even without the help of her political party. Steenburgen added family and close friends to her campaign since she couldn’t afford to hire legitimate political advisors. Her mother was her campaign manager and her friend, Shelly Gunderson, took the position of assistant campaign manager. The only problem was that neither Steenburgen’s mother nor her friend Shelly had the gall to tell Steenburgen that her plans were too whimsical in nature and too vague even for American politics.

  “Love and charity” were found in every newsletter and email Steenburgen sent out, along with a picture of her surrounded by her six cats: Mitzy, Minxy, Meowzie, Meredith, Morbo and Cooper. It wasn’t a flattering picture of her pale, freckly face or the poor, sickly looking cats, but her mother and Shelly couldn’t tell her it was a bad idea. They were weak. “Love and charity will free Arkansas from the shackles of capitalism!” read the newsletter. “We must love Arkansas like we love our own families!”

  The idea of “love and charity” was a noble one and a primary tenant of staunch social-liberalism, but Arkansans have been beaten nearly to death by a devastating economy and horrendous weather conditions – though most Arkansans still believed climate change was mainstream propaganda. “Climate change is scientific hooey!” they would say. Still, Arkansans wanted more than social change.

  Arkansans didn’t want to hear about “love and charity” what they wanted to hear about were jobs and bright futures for their children, even if those jobs weren’t important to mankind. Key words were important for politics – it was all about soundbites and quick consumption of information – and Steenburgen had selected her key words poorly, even if they were well-intended.

  Steenburgen didn’t look the part of governor either; she looked more like an Aunt that you never wanted to receive a hug from; a friend’s mom that smelled funny and you weren’t sure why; that woman at the bus stop that never seems to get on a bus and just sits at the bus stop talking to everyone that sat down next to her. She didn’t even look the part to be a mayor of a village with five residents. Steenburgen would be better suited to run a crocheting club or be a manager at a fast food establishment.

  Nonetheless, Steenburgen put forth her idea of a strong platform for the state of Arkansas and it really wasn’t too different from Chairman Obelis’ true platform, except Steenburgen’s had more flowers, pretty colors and loftier, unattainable goals. It wasn’t going to work the way Steenburgen was going to present it and Chairman Obelis expected Southwyck to dismantle Steenburgen enough to cause her to fold into a panic. Chairman Obelis was relieved at the fact that he wouldn’t have to hurt Steenburgen’s feelings much if Southwyck did it for him.

  “Good evening residents of Bella Vista!” said the announcer amiably. He didn’t appear to be a local, as he wore a brown suit instead of overalls, shorts or jeans. “Welcome to the first debate for these three candidates wishing to be the next governor of Arkansas!”

  The crowd applauded lazily. A few whistling noises could be heard as well.

  “First let me introduce the three candidates: The republican candidate is a former fullback for the Razorbacks and currently the CEO of his father’s realty company, Ryan Southwyck!”

  Southwyck waved to the crowd with a plastic smile adorned on his chubby mug. He stood quite hefty for a user of cocaine and was at least 80 lbs. heavier than his playing weight.

  “Ryan’s story is truly one of redemption after not making the NFL and having to come home to amend his life. Ryan says he is now ready to lead our great state to the Promised Land!”

  The crowd clapped much louder than before. Several members in the audience stood up to clap and shout “PIG SOOIE!” – the University of Arkansas rallying cry during football games. Chairman Obelis looked at the Bella Vista residents that stood up; they were all wearing University of Arkansas razorbacks’ hats, shirts and jackets and weren’t part of Southwyck’s entourage.

  Chairman Obelis wrote a note to himself stating, “Carda Implants are an absolute must for football fanatics.”

  “Our democratic candidate is…”

  A man stood up and booed loudly. He screamed, “Boo! Fuck you! You support the innocent killin’ of babies! Abortion is murder! Fucking disgusting bitch! Go to hell – where your kind belongs!”

  Steenburgen’s pale, freckly face began to turn a bright red and her armpits started to drip sweat. She stood a mere 5’3” but was nearing the 250 lbs. mark. Her weight caused her to breathe deeply before speaking.

  “I’m… sorry you feel… that way, sir!” breathed Steenburgen deeply into the microphone at her podium.

  Two skinny, likely teenage, security guards gently escorted the man out of the building. His ranting could still be heard until one of the teenage guards shut the exit door.

  “Well then!” spoke the announcer. “Our democratic candidate is Felicia Steenburgen! A graduate of Vanderbilt University with a degree in education and a graduate degree from Arkansas University for Philosophy, Miss Steenburgen is a quality candidate that would make a great governor!”

  Southwyck said under his breath, “I nailed a bunch of cows like her back in college!” Southwyck had directed his comment towards Chairman Obelis, hoping to pry a reaction from the quiet third-party candidate.

  The crowd cheered lazily once again. Except Steenburgen’s mother and friend, they stood up and cheered loudly.

  “Thank you… for this… opportunity…!” breathed Steenburgen deeply, once more. Her face returned to its pale and freckly state after the mild clapping died down. She tried to manage a smile but could only raise half of her face in the effort. The half-faced smile gave Steenburgen the visage of a constipated buffalo.

  “And now, we introduce our third candidate,” said the announcer. “He’s not a native Arkansan but since he has lived here for well over the twenty-five years necessary, he is eligible to run for governor of our wonderful state!”

  The crowd didn’t clap, minus the white-haired man that told Jeffrey he was excited to hear Chairman O’Belis’ political points. The white-haired man’s clapping began to slow, as the man looked around to see if anyone would join him. No one did.

  “He is known as being the ‘Reclusive Billionaire’ but tonight w
e all get to meet, Chairman Obelis!” said the announcer.

  The white-haired man let out a few claps, again, to show his appreciation toward Chairman Obelis.

  “You can call me Huxley Obelis,” said Chairman Obelis calmly into his microphone. The crowd grew more interested after hearing the secretive billionaire speak for the first time. Did his voice sound like they believed it would?

  Jeffrey scrunched his face in confusion. Chairman Obelis had never let him call him Huxley! “Why do these yokels get to call him Huxley?” thought Jeffrey.

  “Welcome to the fold, Huxley,” smiled the announcer. “Who wants to begin the opening statements?”

  “I… will go first…” said Steenburgen as quickly and confidently as she could.

  Chairman Obelis and Southwyck were hoping the other would go first. Each man was mildly surprised that Steenburgen stepped up to the plate, albeit slowly considering her deep breathing in between words. The two men walked to the edge of the stage to sit in their seats while awaiting Steenburgen’s opening statement; Chairman Obelis made sure to leave a chair in between Southwyck and himself.

  “Your time starts now, Miss Steenburgen! Please be quiet in the audience,” said the announcer.

  Chapter 22

  A Concrete Plan

  “So, you’re saying we lure this woman out into the woods to kill her?” asked Gora. “Seems easy enough, I guess.”

  “Ja,” replied Owlbert. “It vill be simple!”

  The group had unintentionally formed a circle as they sat on the ground nibbling on food Gora had bought for them as they rested or researched the next target. Gora rarely went out in public since being ridiculed by the majority of the ASH members, but made a special trip to a nearby store to buy goodies to reward her beasts – her friends.

  Hitbear had hushed away his haunting memories for the time being through a forced nap. His hair, though normally a shitty looking bowl cut, was shooting in all directions after his slumber. He looked more ridiculous than usual.

  “But how will we get her out into the woods?” asked Hitbear. He quietly nibbled at watermelon, bananas and muskmelon. Fruit remnants dribbled all over his chest and down to his feet. “That’s the most important part, right?” he said with a mouthful of the various fruit.

  “Yeah, that part I don’t get. She doesn’t work anywhere near a forest or woodlands,” said Gora. Gora dipped a spoon in a jar of peanut butter and shoveled an enormous amount of peanut butter into her mouth. Her voice became muffled. “I don’t think this plan is going to work, Owlbert.” She licked the roof of her mouth, trying to removing any excess peanut butter.

  “Did you two even listen to the damn bird when he laid out the plan?” asked Tubman flatly. She hadn’t been listening to Owlbert either. “It was a pretty simple plan, but… if you want to explain it again, bird, I wouldn’t mind.” Tubman had decided to only eat some muskmelon and some wheat bread. She ate her meal much slower than her comrades. Her stomach was not nearly as large as Gora’s or Hitbear’s and she liked to savor her meals.

  Gora and Hitbear looked at one another, mouths’ full of food, and then back at the group.

  “Yeah… I wasn’t listening very well,” said Hitbear. “I’m really not the best at listening since I usually do the planning. That’s what I was created for…”

  “Oh shut it,” said Tubman. “You planned one thing.” Hitbear gave Tubman a look of confusion. He severely underestimated her ability to command a conversation.

  “Owlbert,” said Gora, “Please briefly explain your plan again. This time we will listen.” Gora smacked Hitbear’s stomach and gave him a rough glare. “We will listen very closely!”

  “Ja, okay!” chimed Owlbert. “So zee fraulein lives near San Francisco, California. Vich ist several hours und hundreds of miles from Pendleton. So vee have zee opportunity to locate ein spot in zee Northern part of California. Northern California has ein very dense forest that vould suffice und be enough away from civilization. At least as far away as vee can get in this country. Zee mountains vill help too! Ja!”

  “Okay,” the group said in unison. Hitbear burped – urp! – and apologized. He placed the fruit he was eating on the ground. He wiped his paws on his chest, removing the sticky juices from his paws and transferring them to his chest.

  “Vee can use ein map to do that part, but vill still have to check zee area to make sure nein humans are camping in zee area! I vill be zee ‘lookout’ again! I vas very good at that!” Owlbert stretched how his wings. He didn’t eat much of what Gora had bought. He decided he would go the natural route and stick with a diet that was suitable for owls. The encompassing woods served as a buffet for the birdman: he feasted on worms, mice, smaller birds, bugs and occasionally a rabbit or squirrel. He was much larger than the typical owl; so much more food had to be consumed. “After finding zee location with ein map, vee will need to buy ein cement auto. Du know, zee ones that go whirly, whirly, whirly!” Owlbert moved the end of his wing in a circular motion, mimicking the rolling container on the back of a cement truck. “They have ein yellow spiral on zee auto!”

  “Uh, what for?” asked Gora. Gora squinted her eyes tightly while focusing on Owlbert. She couldn’t predict where he was going with this plan and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear more of it.

  “Ein moment, Frau Gora, ein moment. I vill get to that! Now back to vas I vas saying. After buying zee cement auto und mixing cement in zee auto, naturally, zee next phase of zee plan vill need to go in motion! Frau Gora vill do this part. She vill do this part on her own! Be brave!”

  “Why me?” asked Gora, again with her eyes still squinted and focused on Owlbert. “This next part better be about me going to get ice cream on my own.”

  “Vell it vould be quite unusual for einen owl, ein bear or ein hare to speak to ein person face-to-face. It vould spook zee fraulein doctor! Und zee plan, und your revenge doctrine, vill be kaput. Just like that!” Owlbert tried to snap his ‘fingers’ but, to his disappointment, couldn’t snap his talons like a person could snap their fingers.

  “Ugh,” rang out from Gora’s throat. She leaned her head down and put her head in hands.

  “Gora, you’re the one that wants us to do all this revenge crap,” said Tubman. “You created us after all. If you don’t do your part, what’s the point of us trying our hardest?”

  Gora sat up slowly. She knew Tubman was right. “Fine, I’ll go it alone,” sighed Gora. She shoveled another large spoonful of peanut butter into her mouth.

  “Now, continuing mein plan: Gora vill meet vith zee fraulein doctor und vill beg und plead vith her to come to zee forest area vee decided on; how du get her out there ist up to du Gora.” Gora nodded begrudgingly. “Once vee get her up there Gora vill take her to our exact coordinates. At those exact coordinates vill be ein three meter deep hole covered by leaves, foliage, sticks und any other thing vee find in zee forest. Hitbear und Tubman vill dig up zee hole und cover it as best as they can.”

  Tubman moved over toward Gora and put her paw on Gora’s shoulder. Gora nodded appreciatively at the hare and the comfort she brought.

  “Next Gora vill push or lead – vhichever! – zee fraulein into zee hole of death!” Owlbert squawked.

  “So, we’re gonna let her die of starvation?” asked Hitbear. “It would definitely be less bloody, but more potentially more agonizing.” Hitbear looked at Gora, “You’d prefer starvation over a massacre?”

  Gora shrugged.

  “Nein! Zee cement truck vill be revealed from nearby, being driven by Tubman or Hitbear – doesn’t matter. Vee vill bury her in cement und then cover zee top of zee cement with zee leftover dirt! Or vee could even create ein memorial to honor zee doctor fraulein! Nein…nein… that vould be stupid since it vould let someone know something’s there.” Owlbert smacked himself in the face with his left wing. Thwack.

  The group sat there quietly blinking at Owlbert. They were taken aback by such a sadistic, yet elaborate, plan. “Would the plan even w
ork? What would happen if something went wrong? How would Gora convince the doctor to leave without being noticed?” Several thoughts ran through their heads at warp speeds.

  “Vas is it?” asked Owlbert. He cocked his head to the side and stared at the group contemplatively. Click, click, click went Owlbert’s beak during the long silence. He attempted to snap his fingers, but, again, he failed.

  Gora looked as if she was about to speak but twisted her hands and head slowly. She looked at each of her creations then looked at her feet. “This is a good plan,” she thought. Gora looked up and directly at Owlbert, who was still clicking his beak.

  Click, click, click.

  “Well, it’s honestly a malicious, brutal plan,” said Gora quietly. Owlbert shut his eyes. He couldn’t believe she was going to deny his plan. “But I fucking love it!” Owlbert’s eyes opened instantly and a large smile came across his face.

  Gora stood up and ran over to hug Owlbert. It couldn’t be seen but Owlbert’s owl-cheeks turned a rosy red out of the flattering comment. The feathers around his beak curled more than usual. Owlbert was awfully used to using his mind for the greater good, but now he could use his mind to act demented – in limited situations.

  “I’m not sure how to drive?” said Tubman. “Now I can ride a horse or steer a carriage, but don’t know how to drive. I never got the chance to drive an automobile.”

  “I can handle that part,” nodded Hitbear to the tiny mammal. Tubman smiled and nodded back.

  “I’ll think up a plan to lure her out there, and you three can work out any kinks of the overall plan, okay?” asked Gora.

  “Yeah!” said the group as they stood up and stretched out their animal bodies. A collective yawn was had amongst the group.

  Hitbear went to grab a map of California from Gora’s massive collection. He was struck again by a memory of his former life. It forced him to kneel down next to the maps.