Born of Greed

by Baroni, J. T.

  Since the house no longer reeked, Jack fixed his plate and joined his father at the table. “Does Uncle Mike still work at the grain yard?”

  “No, he retired last year. His leg bothered him too much to work anymore.”

  “I’m going to get my car running today and look for a job. I’ll start with the granary, I’m hoping to get back in there,” Jack said, munching on a whole slice of slab bacon.

  Obvious to Jack, the old man was already exhausted. After breakfast, he helped Thomas to the sofa, switched oxygen tanks, and turned on the TV. Ben Cartwright was telling Little Joe to find Hoss; it seemed trouble was brewing on the Ponderosa, again as usual.

  “Here’s a bed pan for you to go in, and a clean hanky for you to spit in.” He also set the little table next to him with his smokes and an empty ashtray. “Try to cut down on those things, would you? I’ll be outside working on my car.” Jack positioned the oxygen tubes.

  Thomas, with half-shut eyes, nodded, as the bullets ricocheted on the TV. “I think you winged one, Pa!” Jack heard Hoss exclaim as he left the room.

  On his way to the Merc, he walked past the chicken coop. Three dried up carcasses and scattered feathers were all that remained from his mother’s once proud brood of fifteen Rhode Island Reds. He choked up at the memory of Maggie tossing feed to the ground, saying, “Here chick, chickie.” Her small flock produced five-dozen eggs a week, which she sold for fifteen cents a dozen.

  Jack raised the hood and noticed mice had taken up residency under the air cleaner. He undid the wing nut, removed the large round housing, and pulled the bits of burlap, chicken feathers and shredded newspapers out from around the single barrel carburetor. The battery, he knew, would be dead; so he took it in the barn and connected it to the charger. To his amazement, the charger and the air compressor still functioned properly. Surprisingly too, was the fact Thomas hadn’t sold any of the smaller hand tools.

  Removing the distributor cap exposed a set of rusty points. These he sprayed with WD 40 and then sandpapered the tiny contacts until they were shiny. The dipstick showed the oil was dirty, but full. The antifreeze still had a green tint to it and was full. He also sprayed the lubrication on the throttle linkages, and worked them by hand until they loosened up. A five-gallon gas can he found in the barn was one third full. Smelling the contents revealed the gas was old, and had turned to varnish. He dumped the useless fuel in the fire pit, put the can in the bed of the pickup and went for fresh gas. Not only was the can empty, so was the truck. There went another five bucks. Having no income, his meager savings were slowly vanishing.

  He parked the truck in front of the barn when he returned. He knew the battery would take a good eight hours to reach a full charge, so he yanked the truck’s battery out and put that one in the Mercury. Five fresh gallons of gas went into the tank. Searching through the various cans of lubes, paints, and cleaners on Dale’s workbench, Jack found a nearly empty spray can of starting ether. He managed to get a few drops out of the can and into the carburetor.

  Above the sun visor, the keys were still where Jack put them four years ago. He turned the key in the ignition. The straight eight turned over very slowly at first, and then picked up speed as the engine lubricated itself. She sputtered, kicked, and backfired. He could not coax any more juice from the now empty spray can. However, a few drops of gas remained in the five-gallon can; he dribbled a couple of those precious drops into the carb. He turned the key for the second time; the engine turned over, fired up and ran for two seconds until the carb was dry. Jack managed to get the four remaining drops of fuel from the can into the carb. This time when he hit the key, the old Merc fired up, and tried to shut off, but Jack pumped the accelerator to keep her running. He revved her up a few times until the straight eight evened out and she idled on her own. Then he let the car run while he took the flat tire off, and into the barn to use the air compressor to inflate it. After he got the tire mounted, he pulled the car beside the truck, filled all the tires to the proper inflation, parked the filthy sedan in the driveway, and gave her a quick bath.

  Feeling a bit hungry, he went in the house to make a sandwich, but first he decided to check on his father. The old man wheezed and snored; the oxygen tubes had pulled away from his nose. Jack positioned them correctly, and noticed the bedpan contained some urine, which he promptly disposed of. Thank God he’s not pissing himself.

  After washing his hands, Jack ate two ham and cheese sandwiches, and took the Merc for a spin. First stop was Aunt Emily’s house. “Jack! What a nice surprise to see you. Are you home for good, or just on leave?” His aunt gave her favorite nephew a big hug.

  “I’m home to stay, Aunt Emmy. My enlistment was up.”

  Then she remarked, as she held both his hands and stepped back, “Just look at you! All big and handsome.” Old age was kind to her; she was still as chipper as ever.

  Uncle Mike heard the commotion in the kitchen and hobbled out with the help of a cane. “Hey, Jackie Boy! Who’s defending our country if you’re here in Elderton?”

  “Hello Uncle Mike. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of Marines guarding our shores.”

  “Grab a chair. Sit down. I was just fixing on making us bite to eat. I hope you’re hungry. We’re having left over meatloaf.” His kind aunt insisted.

  Not wanting to hurt her feelings, combined with the delicious aroma of meatloaf filling the kitchen, Jack answered, “I can’t refuse an offer like that. Especially after four years of Marine chow.”

  “And apple pie for dessert!” Aunt Emily was quick to point out.

  After the three finished eating, they talked for hours. There was four years of catching up to do. Aunt Emily was a grandmother now. Uncle Mike took a disability pension due to his sciatic nerve. They visited Thomas regularly. Their daughters were both happily married. One son-in-law was an insurance agent; the other one was a heavy equipment operator. They had picked up a new TV at Harrisons. Uncle Mike bagged a beautiful ten-point buck last year. Lastly, “Yes, the grain yard was probably hiring right now, seeing as the fields are being harvested as we speak.”

  As Jack was leaving, they said their goodbyes and promised future get-togethers. His visit was a good time for all, and they always made their nephew feel at home.

  As much as he did not want to, he would ask for his old job back.

  Every cylinder fired perfectly when Jack turned the key. The old dependable Merc was back in action. On the way home, an idea came to Jack. Maybe it sprang from the hospitality he just enjoyed, or from the guilty feelings that his father’s face bestowed upon him as he dragged that wretched recliner out the door. Possibly, it may have been the fact his aunt mentioned Harrison’s Auction Gallery a half a dozen times in the last two hours; he would replace his father’s recliner.

  The Merc pulled into Harrison’s lot; Jack got out and went in. Aunt Emily was not exaggerating when she described how much unsold junk lined the walls. Washers, dryers, bedroom suites, desks, furniture, TVs, refrigerators, clothing, and millions of knick-knacks were on display. A big black imitation leather recliner had a price tag of twenty dollars; the overstuffed chair caught Jack’s eye. A little old gray haired woman wearing thick glasses came to assist her new customer. “May I help you, young man?”

  “Would you take ten dollars for this chair, ma’am?” Jack dickered.

  “Fifteen and you got a deal.” She was well versed in her occupation.

  “Twelve dollars and fifty cents, and that’s my final offer,” he counter offered firmly, but politely.

  She looked up at her handsome customer. “Are you a soldier?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Marines.”

  “My brother-in-law just found out his son is missing in action. It’s brave young men like you who keep our country free. I’ll take your offer of ten dollars.”

  “Ma’am, thank you very much. Our country needs more patriotic people like you.” Jack could sling the chocolate-coated bullshit with ease.

  “Oh! Why thank you,
young man.” The kind elderly woman felt she did her good deed for the day.

  With the recliner tied securely in the trunk, Jack pulled into Burger King. He remembered how much his father enjoyed last night’s meal and decided to treat him again. Besides, he just had a fantastic home cooked meal that filled him up, and he did not feel like cooking when he got home.

  Trying his best to be quiet, Jack put the burgers and fries on the kitchen table, and then peeked in on the old man to make sure he was sleeping. Then he propped the screen door open to bring in the recliner. He managed to get the huge chair in with a minimum amount of noise, and sat it where the old one was. Jack was actually excited about having a surprise for his father. Maybe the two of them could make peace, Jack thought, and they could develop a decent relationship. So far, their ships were sailing in calm waters.

  Jack noticed the tubing had fallen off his father’s face, again. Putting it back in place, Jack’s hand brushed against Thomas’s face. The old man’s skin felt cold. Too cold. Very lightly, Jack shook his father. Thomas’s hand slid from his lap and dangled to a stop by his leg. His head slowly slumped over, facing his new recliner. His eyes, however, remained closed.

  Jack sat down in that big black chair; stared back at his dead father for a moment, and calmly said, “Look at it like this, Old Man…You finally quit them fucking cigarettes!”

  Chapter Nine

  “California dreaming, on such a winter’s day.”

  The Mamas and the Papas

  Francis Ozgood, the local undertaker, assisted Jack in finalizing Thomas’s estate. “Seeing as you are the sole heir, you are legally entitled to all your father’s possessions. The house, land and any money owed to the estate shall be yours. Nevertheless, you are also responsible to pay any debts left behind by your father. He left no will. Fortunately, he did have a small life insurance policy which covered all the funeral expenses, and his cemetery plot was bought and paid for when he bought his wife’s plot, four years ago.”

  Keeping the promise made over twenty-five years ago, Raymond and Thad did not attend Thomas’s funeral. Other than Reverend White and Jack, only Aunt Emily, Uncle Mike, Doc Wilson and Toby Lucas paid their respects.

  After the graveside service, Toby invited Jack over to see his new home, and meet his wife and six-month-old son. Halfway between Elderton and Breezewood was the small town of Jonestown, home to the young state trooper. His income allowed him to purchase a modest bungalow, which he fixed up rather nicely. “Amazing what a little paint and new shutters did to this old shanty, Jack,” Toby informed his old friend during the grand tour of the outside.

  The young trooper looked much more mature now then the last time Jack had seen him four years ago. He wore his hair short, conforming to the police department’s regulations. The few pounds he lost made him look taller.

  They were standing on the freshly cut front lawn when a petite young woman with long blonde hair, braided in a ponytail, came out on the porch carrying a tray of iced tea and toasted cheese sandwiches. She had over toasted one side of the sandwiches. “Toby, lunch is ready. I had to take care of William for a second and I might have burned the sandwiches. Sorry, honey. I’ll make more if those are inedible.”

  She was a fantastic girl, a great mother, and a devoted wife. Only five foot four, she filled out her blue jeans and T-shirt perfectly. Toby loved her. Three weeks after graduating from the Police Academy, he pulled over a speeding Fairlane and jokingly told the cute little blonde driver with big blue eyes, “I won’t write this citation if you go on a date with me.” She agreed, and he’d been handcuffing her to the bed ever since.

  “Christine, this is Jack. We go back a long ways. The sandwiches look great, Honey.” Toby told his wife as they came onto the porch, helping themselves to her culinary delights.

  “It’s awful nice to meet you, Jack. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m so sorry to hear your father passed on.” The girl spoke like an angel.

  “Thank you, at least now he’s with his wife.”

  “Oh…that’s so sad, but sweet. What did he die from?” She asked her husband’s tall and good looking muscular friend. William, her son, started fussing inside the house.

  “He was battling emphysema for a long time.”

  “Oh my. You two boys will have to excuse me; some little boy wants his mommy.” Christine excused herself, leaving the two old friends alone.

  When she was out of hearing range, Jack told his friend, “You are one lucky man. You got a beautiful wife, a nice house, and a son. I’m really envious.”

  Pointing to his half eaten burnt sandwich, Toby said, “She ain’t much in the kitchen, but I ain’t got any complaints about her in the bedroom.”

  They both chuckled. “This ain’t no shit, Jack, when we first got married; she had to call her mother for the recipes for ice cubes and toast.” Louder chuckles.

  “I know you’re bullshitting me now, Toby.”

  “Well, maybe I am stretching the truth a little bit, but she still can’t cook an egg if her life depended on it! What about you Jack? Is your enlistment up, or are you home on leave for the funeral?”

  Jack thought for a minute and then answered, “My military career is over, Toby. I lost my temper when this asshole city slicker cheated me out of five hundred bucks in a poker game, so I punched him out and got a dishonorable discharge. You’re the only one that knows the truth. Everybody else thinks my four year enlistment was up.”

  “I can picture you doing that. I remember that night with Croyle like it was yesterday. Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me. So what are your plans now?”

  “I was supposed to see about getting my old job back at the grain yard Tuesday, but the old man went and kicked the bucket. Guess I’ll stop by there tomorrow.”

  “That place does not look too promising. Doesn’t your uncle always get laid off in the winter months?”

  “Yeah. He did, until he worked his way to the top; then he stayed and pulled maintenance on all the equipment during the winter. But then he hurt his back and got out on a disability pension.”

  “Yeah, I saw he was using a cane today, but I’ll tell you what, Jack; the state is always hiring troopers. Having four years of MP experience under your belt would put your application at the top of the pile; but I’m not too sure about that dishonorable discharge. It wouldn’t hurt to try though, and I can get you an application. The pay has to be a lot better, too,” Toby said while pointing to his house.

  “I would appreciate that very much. Like you say, it would not hurt to try.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll swing by tomorrow with one. Come on in, I’ll show you the rest of my shanty.”

  They went in and Toby proudly finished the grand tour. Then four years of Marine stories, laughter, and state trooper tales filled their evening. Jack was serious about being envious, especially regarding his friend’s knock dead gorgeous wife. To Hell with his house, Jack had his own house and it sat on two hundred and twenty-five acres. Moreover, he did not want any kids. Nevertheless, what he wouldn’t give to have a woman companion like her, and to enjoy a satisfying sex life. Christine was the kind of girl he could fall in love with; she resembled Rebecca. Jack was actually having fantasies about her while the three of them sat and bullshitted the night away. Every chance he had, he would glance at her sweet ass, and mentally undress her. Not too many women had that effect on him; only one or two of the thousands of California honeys he saw, or knew, sparked the intense arousal he was feeling now.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Big Guy, when I drop off that application,” Toby told his good friend when their night of socializing was over.

  “I’ll see you then, Buddy. Goodnight Christine!” Her perfectly shaped, firm titties also got their share of quick peeks.

  “Goodnight Jack, it was really nice of you to stop over tonight. Come by anytime,” she said with a big smile.

  Toby kept his promise and dropped off the application the very next day. Jack promptly got
the application back to the state. The state promptly denied Jack employment. “One of the requirements regarding the hiring of military personnel is the applicant must possess an honorable discharge, as you have indicated as such on your application. However, our background check reveals you have a dishonorable discharge and consequently as such, we are sorry to inform you that you are disqualified for state police employment consideration now and in the future.”

  He did work at the grain yard until the end of October. Only two of the old timers managed to stay employed, as maintenance workers. During the winter, they cleaned and greased all the conveyor belts, cranes and fork trucks. Rodent extermination measures were diligently enforced; that alone was practically a full time job. Rats and mice by the thousands thrived and multiplied in the grain yard.

  Three inches of snow, and temperatures in the low teens, greeted Jack in the first week of November. Shoveling a ton of coal off the pickup made him daydream of the Southern California climate. The more he sat around inside the house, the more he yearned for the outdoors, the sunny beach, and the beautifully tanned girls; mainly, he missed the way of life he led. He had plenty of time to lounge in that big recliner and think of Southern California, and reminisce about the military life he once enjoyed. What the hell is keeping me in Elderton? One friend, who has a life of his own, and an aunt and an uncle.

  The second week of that cold, snowy month was all he could tolerate. Jack scheduled an appointment with Vern Henderson, the local realtor, a sharp businessman. Due to the fact that there was not much of a real estate market in Elderton, Vern also sold auto and life insurance. Short in stature, but long winded, Vern could sell ice to an Eskimo with his gift of gab. Clean cut, well-groomed, manicured nails, tailored suits, and his knack of making anyone feel like they were longtime friends the first time he met them, was the secret to his financial success. Along with his wit and humor. Vern was such a professional businessman, and bull shitter, undoubtedly he could walk into the biggest jewelry store in New York City, stand behind the counter and sell the most expensive ring within five minutes. He was that good.