03/01/01

I guess great minds really do think alike. . .

I didn’t even have to bring up the idea about digging up Phil’s body with Porch Rot. Found Hiram this morning out in his yard at the spot of the filled well. The El Camino that had been covering the spot had been hauled off earlier in the week like just about everything else on the place. Hiram was trying to bust through the frost in the ground with a shovel and a pick ax. He tried to deny he was digging up Phil, said he had to bury a calf that was too sick to truck off the place with the rest of the stock.

I say: C’mon Hiram, I know what you said about Phil being buried here. I know what you’re doing. You don’t have to tell me any story about burying a calf.

He says: Yeah, you did such a fine job keeping that piece of information to yourself too, didn‘t you?

I say: What yah saying, Hiram? I never told no one what yah told me.

He says: The heck you didn’t! Why the heck is it getting around the neighborhood that I buried Phil in the well after I found him hanging in the barn? That’s exactly the same gosh darn story I told you! The exact same gosh darn story! I didn’t give out that story to no one but you!

I never had Porch Rot so enraged at me before. The guy was red in the face pissed. Of course I was plenty pissed too at gosh darn Stash Skimington. I’m swearing under my breath the whole time recalling the time Stash let himself into the trailer and read through all my shit on the computer. Fucker not only invaded my privacy, he’s fucking spreading around my secrets around town!

I asked Hiram if he wanted to get any machinery in. He told me to mind my own business. I don’t know why I had to say it just then--- it wasn’t like I was trying to be hurtful--- but I tried to justify my interest in the matter. I reminded Hiram that Phil was family.

Yeah, your wife’s family, Hiram says.

No, my father’s family, I reply quickly.

Just then Hiram threw his shovel at me and stormed off towards his house. I barely got out of the way of the god damn thing. Could have gashed open my scalp.

I tapped the shovel a couple of times on the frozen ground in frustration. A different, warmer day I’d might be in business. Not today.

I got the hell out of there. Frozen, fucked-up place.