Born of Greed

by Baroni, J. T.

  He sat down in his chair and looked at one twin, then the next. A pissed off look etched across his face, but he didn’t say a word.

  R J pointed at Jack, and blurted out, “He started it.”

  “Shut up Daniel,” Mr. Madigan hollered at R J. He had the twins mixed up.

  The other twin, Daniel, who didn’t say anything yet, spoke now, “He’s R J. I’m Daniel.”

  The look on Madigan’s face now showed fury. He stood up. “I don’t care who is who,” he shouted. By now, everybody was back in class, and heard his voice boom from his office.

  “Here it is. The very first day of school,” he screamed, “you two are already starting your shi…shenanigans.” The four-letter word almost slipped out; he was having a real hard time maintaining his composure with these two. They were the Brats from Hell, and he had them in his office too many times last year. He had already decided this year would be different.

  He opened his drawer and pulled out a long skinny paddle. “The next time either of you two are in this office, I am going to use this to tan your hides!” Then, to prove his point, he raised the paddle high above his head and smacked the thin oaken slat down on his desk. The very loud ‘whack’ echoed through the silent halls of the building.

  Startled, Mrs. Foster jumped. “My goodness!”

  Madigan then bent over to their level, and put his face so close to R J’s face, the twin smelled his Mennens aftershave and the coffee on his hot breath. In a much quieter voice, closer to a growling whisper, he warned the little bastard, “Don’t…don’t even piss me off this year, or I will beat your skinny little ass till you bleed! Do you understand me?” R J, pale white and shaking, nodded yes.

  Same tone, different twin, nose-to-nose. “Do you understand? R J or Daniel, whichever one you are.” Daniel nodded yes, also. The twins realized Madigan meant every word.

  He stood back up, his sanity returned. “I think one month of in-school detention with no morning or afternoon recess will be sufficient punishment, this time.”

  He pointed the paddle in each of the twins’ faces. “Apologize to Jack.”

  Then, in that sarcastic, musical tone every parent, teacher, and principal know all too well. “We’re sorry, Jack.”

  On his first day of school, Jack fell in love, wound up in a fight, and met the principal. A day destined to be a day he would always remember. On the other hand, perhaps even cherish?

  * * * *

  Jack never told his mother about the fight. When she inquired why his face was red and scratched, he lied, “We were playing kick the can, Momma, and I, uh, tripped and fell.”

  All he wanted to talk about was Rebecca. His mother said it sounded like puppy love, which prompted Jack to ask, “How did you know Rebecca had a puppy?” His mother smiled, and said how naïve and innocent my little boy is.

  Nonetheless, he never forgot about the fight. For he knew deep down inside, revenge would be his, someday, somehow. That part though, he didn’t have quite figured out yet, however, he felt the fire burning deep in his gut, telling him otherwise. The humiliation those twins made him experience in front of the whole school, especially Rebecca, was more than he could bear. He made a vow that day, promising himself that nobody would ever walk over him again. Nobody! Never!

  The rest of the school year passed uneventful. Ray Junior and Daniel managed to keep their asses out of Madigan’s office. Other than the constant hairy eyeball, they let Jack alone; and disappointingly, Rebecca still ran from him. However, he did get a Valentine’s Day card from her. So did all the other classmates, but Jack felt his was special. The one he gave to her was. He signed hers, “Love, Jack.”

  * * * *

  Maggie took her son shopping for school clothes; in one week, he would start second grade. Jack always enjoyed an outing to Woolworths; the shopping spree got him away from the farm. Moreover, venturing to the discount store offered the boy the chance pleasure of eating ice cream, or sipping a Coke. His mother paid for these luxuries out of her egg money. Maggie enjoyed browsing the large store for bargains. Their motto was ‘pile it high, and sell it cheap.’

  On this particular outing, Jack, who was able to read somewhat now, found himself in the books and magazines section of the store, instead of his usual trek to the toy aisle. One magazine especially caught his attention, the Iron Man Magazine; he took it off the shelf and admired the extremely muscular man posing on the front cover. Gee, I bet this man is even stronger than Mr. Madigan, or Dale; he could beat them up easy. The cover also promised “huge muscles, fast results!” However, when Jack read the enticing caption, “Don’t let the beach bully kick sand in your face,” he felt as though he held the key to the universe in his hands. He absolutely had to have that magazine, and he sprinted with it to his mother.

  She had never seen her son so overly excited. “Look Momma!” He shoved the magazine so close to her face she could not read what it was.

  She took it and held it at arm’s length, and after seeing what the magazine was, she asked, “Why on earth would you possibly want this?”

  “I want to have big muscles like that guy. Can I have it, Momma, please Momma, can I?”

  “I don’t know if I have enough money to buy this,” Maggie sadly informed her son.

  “If I don’t eat any ice cream today, Momma, will that give you enough money?” Jack pleaded.

  Attempting further to con his mother into buying that magazine, he added, “And my old dungarees are just fine; I can wear them again this year.” That was far from the truth. Her eight-year old son, who stood three inches taller than her, was growing like a weed. None of his clothes from last year fit him.

  On the ride back to the farm, Jack, sporting an ice cream moustache, flipped through the pages like a mad man possessed. “Look at this guy, Momma,” or “Look how big his muscles are,” was all Maggie heard from the overly excited boy for the entire trip home.

  Jack read a subtitle under a picture of a weight lifter using a bench; then he realized something. He didn’t have a bench, any weights, or a bar. Then an idea hit him like a ton of bricks.

  In the barn, he found an old pitchfork handle and two empty paint cans. Using baling twine, he tied one can on each end of the handle; and then put bricks in each can. Next, he found two big nails, and drove one each into the front sides of a stall doorway; about three feet high; he let enough of the nail protrude from the beams to hang his homemade barbell. A bale of hay covered with an old horse blanket became his bench, and there it was. The inventive young weight lifter to be, stood back and admired his handy work. Not too shabby.

  Then he lay down on the bench, picked the barbell off the nails, and did twenty reps. Not enough weight, too easy. So he added two more bricks, and did twenty more reps. Much better, He felt the burn, just like the magazine promised. He did curls, and then squats, and more presses. After every set, he examined his biceps. They were tighter, but not huge. Where’s these fast results? He looked that section up. “Two months? Geez! I thought it would be faster than that!” He spoke aloud, disappointed, but not discouraged. The article also stated dedication was a key factor. I’ll be dedicated, those twins will get theirs.

  Every day after school, Jack rushed through his chores and homework and ran to the barn. “He’s going through a phase,” Thomas told Maggie. “Every boy wants to be big and strong. But they give up after they find out how hard and boring lifting weights is. He’ll quit soon.”

  Only three weeks had passed since that trip to Woolworths.

  “You’re wrong, Thomas, you don’t know your boy very well. He’s as stubborn as you are,” Maggie rebutted.

  “Wow, it does work,” Jack exclaimed to himself after a set of reps, going into his third month of training. His hard, baseball-sized bicep had definition. The boy had three paint cans on each side of the pitchfork handle now. He felt himself getting stronger, and he liked that.

  One Monday, Jack came home from school, changed into his old clothes and was about t
o start his chores. Maggie, busy canning apple butter, stopped Jack at the kitchen door. “Your Aunt Emily stopped by today, and she left you something. It’s out in the barn.”

  Jack entered the barn, stopped, and looked around. Replacing his home made weights and hay bale was a real bench, holding an actual barbell. In addition, two dumbbells lie next to the bench. Also, on top of the bench, sat this month’s issue of Iron Man. He stood in awe, and let out a long and hardly audible, “Whoa!”

  One of Aunt Emily’s favorite passions, and a way to pass time, was attending Harrison’s auction gallery on Saturdays. Being the sole bidder on this hardly used weight set, for seventy-five cents, she knew she got a steal. That was a small price to pay to see her only nephew ecstatic. Harrisons loaded her bargain at the gallery; and Thomas made the exchange in the barn.

  Just as Jack reached for the new issue, he heard his aunt say, “I’m glad you like your new set up, Jack.” Emily had been hiding in the next stall, waiting, after she hid her car behind the barn; wanting to surprise Jack.

  He ran to her and gave her a big hug. “You’re the best aunt in the whole wide world, Aunt Emmy.”

  Jack, more enthusiastic now than ever about lifting weights, he gave that bench more action in the following three months than its previous owner devoted to it in three years. Thomas’s philosophy hit the nail on the head with that owner.

  The new magazine covered the nutritional aspects for muscle growth. One night at the supper table, Maggie asked Jack if he wanted a slice of apple pie, his response made her mouth fall open. “Too many carbs, Momma, I need more protein in my diet.”

  His second year of school began uneventfully; he and the twins avoided each other for the most part. They terrorized other children on the playground, but nothing as nasty as they did to Jack the previous year. Perhaps Madigan’s threat had sunk in.

  One afternoon recess, Jack was playing dodge ball when he heard a girl’s high-pitched screams. Daniel had found a garter snake and was shoving the squiggling reptile in Rebecca’s face; she tried to run, but Ray Junior blocked her.

  Jack ran as fast as he could, positioned himself between Daniel and Rebecca, and then threatened her tormentor, “Let her alone, Daniel, or I’ll kick your ass!”

  “Who? You? You big baby?” Then Daniel shoved the snake into Jack’s face. Jack flung his left arm up, knocking Daniel’s arm out of his face, which sent the snake twirling through the air. Then Jack’s right fist landed hard, square on the twin’s nose, blood flowed immediately. Jack turned to R J. “You want one, too?” R J, his eyes as big as moon pies, shook his head no, while backing away.

  By now, Mr. Madigan had also heard the screaming and ran to the commotion. “What’s going on here?” he asked, demandingly.

  Jack spoke first, “We all heard Rebecca screaming because of a snake, and so we all came running. Daniel and R J were running like this.” To demonstrate, he held his hands two feet apart, and then smacked them together. “And they ran into each other. Ain’t that right, Daniel?” Daniel nodded his head in agreement, while holding both hands over his bleeding nose.

  Mr. Madigan looked at R J. “Are you okay?”

  R J replied, “Yeah, I’m okay, I have a hard head.”

  “You boys ought to be more careful, next time. Let’s get that nose looked at Daniel,” Mr. Madigan said, turning to escort the bloody twin to the school nurse.

  Jack looked at R J. “Apologize to Rebecca,” he ordered.

  “I’m awful sorry, Rebecca,” R J said, with no hesitation.

  Jack was really enjoying this, and added, “Apologize for your brother, too.”

  “I’m sure Daniel is awful sorry, too, Rebecca.”

  “Now get out of here,” Jack told R J. Then he looked at Rebecca. “Are you okay? That snake didn’t bite you, did it?”

  “No it didn’t, Jack. You’re my hero.” Then she stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

  Jack blushed, a smile grew from ear to ear, and he walked on a cloud for the rest of the day. Her kiss, albeit a tiny peck, made his revenge taste so much sweeter!

  Chapter Five

  “I can see Paradise by the Dashboard Light.”

  Meatloaf

  The farm held its own over the ensuing years, barely. Maggie’s health deteriorated slowly, as did Thomas’s condition. Now, at sixteen-years of age, Jack did a bit more farm work alongside Dale and Leroy, in addition to helping his mother.

  Jack’s Uncle Mike pulled some strings at the grain yard, and they hired Jack part time. He saved enough money to pay one hundred dollars cash for a 1950 Mercury. Dale, being the farm’s mechanic, tuned the old beater the best he could; at least the clunker was dependable transportation. Jack did not have enough money to fix the Merc’s cracked exhaust manifold, though; people knew when his car was coming from a mile down the road.

  Rebecca turned Jack down every time he asked her out. She did not date anybody, and she finally explained her situation to him, “My parents, especially my mother, won’t let me date until I’m finished with college.” Her mother was one of the few mothers who worked outside the home; she was a career woman. Her illustrious career was being a secretary at the courthouse; she had even bigger plans for her daughter, saying, “No boy is going to mess that up.”

  Ultimately, though, Jack wanted to date girls, go to dances, and sow his wild oats. His good friend Toby Lucas swore up and down he did the nasty deed with Angela Wilson, Doc Wilson’s great niece. “She’s a real easy lay, Jack.” Toby encouraged his friend. “Just make sure you have a rubber, or she won’t give you any of that stinky pussy. I found that out on our first date, but at least she gave me a blowjob. I had to take her to the Moonlite again the next weekend. I brought a rubber and I got laid that night.”

  Three weeks later, Jack finally found the nerve to ask Angela for a date to the drive-in. Jack had a pack of rubbers stashed under a map in his glove box for the previous two and a half weeks.

  “What took you so long to ask me out, Jack? I always hoped you would. I just love the drive- in. And Jack, bring a raincoat, it just might get wet, if you know what I mean.”

  Jack almost screwed up his golden opportunity by saying, “I already got the rubbers, I heard you put out.” Damned good thing he remembered the other part of Toby’s sermon. “Don’t let her know…that you know…she’s an easy lay; or else she’ll get lock knee on you.”

  He played his lines cool. “Huh? Oh! Okay! I’ll pick you up at quarter till eight, and I won’t be late.”

  That was on Friday; he was to pick her up the next evening. He spent all the next day shining his Merc, double-checking his rubber stash, and getting himself all shit, shaved, and showered. He even borrowed a splash of his fathers Old Spice after-shave after combing his hair four times. In addition, for the big occasion, he spent fifty-nine cents on a brand new, tight fitting white T-shirt from Woolworths.

  Angela was sitting on her front porch steps when the shiny, but loud Mercury pulled up at exactly seven forty-five. The big-busted girl had her brunette hair in a ponytail; she wore a pink poodle skirt and a white button down cashmere sweater. White bobby socks and cheerleader shoes completed her outfit. A little on the chubby side, she dressed this way to conceal that fact. Angela looked damned good to horny Jack, though.

  He reached across the seat and opened her door; she got in and immediately slid right over beside him. Her lilac scented perfume aroused Jack. “Wow, Angela, you sure do smell great!” He poured on the charm; tonight was going to be his big night. He was going to lose his virginity and become a man. While Elvis was on the big screen starring in Blue Hawaii, Jack would be starring in his Mercury.

  “My dad wears Old Spice, too,” Angela said, returning the compliment. Furthering the conversation, “Your car sure is loud.”

  “This rust bucket needs a new manifold; the old one can’t be welded,” Jack said, trying to talk manly. “I’m saving my money for one of those new Corvettes. Those cars are bitchin’.”

 
; Then he continued to compliment her, feeding her a line of bullshit ten miles long; the whole way to the Moonlite Drive-In, “You sure do look good in that sweater! Being a cheerleader must be tough work! You must be the smartest one in English class!”

  Once inside the drive-in, he idled the Merc in an attempt to keep the racket down, as they crept to the back row. “There’s a good spot,” Jack said, and backed up to the speaker post. An older man’s voice could be heard saying, “Thank God,” when Jack shut off his clunker.

  Crickets began chirping and the smell of buttered popcorn filled the air while moths and bats swarmed around the bright lights above the huge plywood screen. Mother Nature began to blanket The Great Plains with a warm and gorgeous evening as the last of the sun’s rays waned, conceding to the moon creeping into view above the concession stand.

  Jack fidgeted. “Hey, look. There’s Toby,” he said, and beeped his horn. Toby, who had parked eight spots away with Alicia Smithmeyer, gave Jack the thumbs up, and tooted back.

  He then talked about anything he could think of to pass the time. It seemed to him that the movie would never start.

  Finally, the speaker, hanging on the Merc’s window, announced in an older woman’s tinny, megaphone voice, “Only one minute left till the show starts. Get your ice cold drinks, delicious popcorn, hotdogs and hamburgers at our friendly concession stand.”

  “Care for a soda or anything, Angela?”

  “No, not right now, maybe later though. I might be thirsty then.”

  A few moments later, the bright lights went out and the speaker crackled again, “Tonight’s feature presentation is Blue Hawaii, starring Elvis Presley. We hope you enjoy the show, and please dispose of your trash properly. Thank you. Be sure to come back next week when our feature presentation will be Rebel without a Cause, starring James Dean.”