Alien Roadkill-Homecoming by Zuckerman Steve

Author:Zuckerman, Steve [Zuckerman, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2017-10-22T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Party Time

COLIN TRENCH WAS standing on a homemade, plywood stage in the center of the gathering throng. He was fiddling with the microphone trying to get the jury-rigged public address system to work. Finally, with a burst of feedback, he was able to begin his announcement.

"Fellow Righteous Sons, I ask you to take a moment and bow your heads,” he said in a serious voice and then waited for a beat or so before he began again. "Heavenly Father, I ask your blessing on these men and their mission… And on the food, we are about to partake. We thank you, Lord, for your generous and bountiful gifts, and the strength to fight for what we believe in! Amen."

He waited for another beat, and then in a far less pious tone he bellowed, "Let the party begin!"

The crowd cheered loudly in reply, and the RSORF annual pig-pull began in earnest as attendees flooded the tables and the barbecues like ants at a picnic. The crowd was huge and colorful. And, as expected, most of the party-goers were either wearing handguns at their waist or carrying automatic rifles slung over their shoulders. As he marveled at the size of the crowd, JB felt like he was the only one who had shown up without a firearm.

Earlier, Terry had told JB that they had sold over two hundred tickets in advance, and there were many walk-ins that had also shown up. As a result, parking had become a considerable challenge. Trucks, cars, and bikes festooned with NRA stickers, MIA flags, and other political sentiments were haphazardly parked in every possible location all around the property.

Cousin Terry had anticipated the crush, and JB was glad he had taken his advice and parked Ol' Blue up the road before the party got started. Terry had told him, "Same shit happens every year. They've been drinkin' and smokin' an' fuckall, and afterwards, for some reason, everybody gets it into their heads to leave at the same time… Destruction Derby is what I call it. It's entertainin' as hell…As long as you ain't a part of it!"

Minutes after Colin's announcement, the pig-pull was in full swing. Enormous quantities of beer and meat were being consumed at a furious pace. The men and women working the grills were keeping up as best they could. The small army of servers replenished the serving platters as soon as the newly cooked meat came off the grill. Thanks to their efforts, the long lines at each of the barbecue stations moved quickly. Folks enthusiastically swooped by the tables helping themselves; choosing from among stacks of ribs, mounds of pulled pork, skewers of barbecued alligator, and chunks of grilled bear. It was an all-you-could-eat and drink affair, so as crowded as the food tables were, the beer dispensing stations were totally overwhelmed, and barely keeping up with the demand.

JB was sitting at one of the shaded tables near the stage with Terry and Colin, chewing on a rib that he was enjoying wholeheartedly.

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