Header 3 by Lee Edward & Harding Ryan

Author:Lee, Edward & Harding, Ryan [Lee, Edward]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Necro Publications
Published: 2017-02-25T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

The front door of the trailer banged open and the two sizeable rednecks, quite literally, threw Augie and Clark out onto the rickety porch. They both landed flat on their backs.

“And stay out!” one yelled.

The second, a bald man with Elvis sideburns, glared and pointed a finger. “Don’t make us tell ya again less’n ya wanna go back to the city with yer pretty-boy faces uglied up but good!”

The door slammed shut. Augie and Clark pulled themselves to their feet, dazed but seemingly feeling little pain. Augie laughed, “Hell, Clark. I consider it an honor to get kicked out of a trailer-park poker game by the Honky Tonk Man!”

Clark was not as festive in his opinion. “What did you expect? You called everybody in the room, and I quote, ‘a bunch of inbred thieving Gomer Pyle rednecks!’”

Augie chuckled. “Did I really say that?”

“Yes, you did!”

“Well, fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke…and they were cheating us. That game was about as straight as Liberace.”

They shuffled down the main drag, disheveled locals frowning at them.

“It looks to me like we’ve worn out our welcome,” Clark said. “Let’s just go back to the motel.”

“Yeah, I’ve had my fill of fuckin’ Backtown for one night.”

They made their way back to the parking lot, which was even fuller than before. It took Augie several tries but eventually he unlocked the SUV, then he and Clark got in.

“Fuck, I’m drunk,” Augie said. He raised a finger. “But that’s a good thing.”

“You want me to drive?” Clark asked, just as tipsy. “The last thing we need is to get pulled over down here.”

Augie started the vehicle. “We ain’t getting pulled over, and even if we did, I think my friend Ben Franklin and his nine brothers would convince the cop not to arrest us.” At that moment, Augie backed the SUV into the back fender of a parked pickup.

“Good job, Augie!”

“Relax. Nobody saw.” Augie drove out of the parking lot. “Besides, that truck’s a piece of shit; the owner’ll never know the difference.”

After some deliberating, Augie turned right, back onto Tick Neck Road, hoping he’d turned the right way. Soon, the SUV was cruising down the quiet road, headlamps shooting lances of intense white light in front of them. There were no street lights out here. This was bona fide country back here with nothing else to illuminate it but the star light, which was about as dim as the yokels they’d left behind.

“Yeah, to hell with Backtown,” Clark said. “Never seen so many goobers in my life.”

“Fuck ’em. I’ve always hated rednecks and now I hate ’em even more. I hope they blow their faces off trying to mount a gun rack. Shit! Speaking of mounting, we never did find the whorehouse!”

“Big deal. I’m probably too drunk to get it up anyway.”

“Nonsense!” Augie insisted. “We’re still strapping young lads. I don’t know about you but one-hundred-percent shitfaced or stone-cold sober, I can bang beaver all night and wake up ready to lay down some more pipe.

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