Sanctified and Chicken-Fried by Joe R. Lansdale

Author:Joe R. Lansdale [Lansdale, Joe R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Literary Collections, Fantasy, Short Stories, Anthologies, American, Short Stories (single author)
ISBN: 9780292719415
Publisher: University of Texas Press
Published: 2009-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

“We’re just making it harder for them,” Ralph said.

“I think you’re just making it meaner,” Billy said. “I think you’re teaching me a lesson.”

Ralph turned his head to one side curiously. “That what you think?

You think you ain’t already got a hole God’s gonna put you in? A slot.”

“That ain’t your call?” Billy said.

“It sure was with Emory. I helped God fit him to his slot. I sent him where he was goin’ and I didn’t choose his place, just his time, and that there, it was preordained, my old man taught me that. And the place Emory went, I don’t figure him nor any of us is going to a place we’d like to go, do you?”

“Ain’t mine to think about.”

“Oh, Billy, sure it is.”

“Not if it’s done planned.”

“Billy,” John said. “I’ll help you.”

“I ain’t gonna put him on that fire.”

“You don’t, it’ll still get done,” Ralph said, “and maybe I get John to siphon out some more gas, get some more sticks. You get where the wind is ablowin’ on that?”

Billy was breathing heavy. John said, “Billy, let’s just do it. Okay?”

Billy looked at John. John’s face was pleading. “All right,” Billy said.

Billy and John got hold of Emory and rolled him over. They took off his clothes except for his shorts, which were full of shit. Billy got a stick and worked Emory’s dick back into the slit in his underwear. John started to pour gasoline on Emory’s open-eyed face. The top of Emory’s head looked like it had been worked open with a dull can opener.

“No,” Ralph said. “Have Billy do that.” John handed Billy the jug.

Billy looked at John, but there was no help there. He took the jug and poured gas on Emory’s head.

“Now put him face down on the sticks and put his hands under his head,” Ralph said. He had used his pocketknife to open the can of peaches and he was poking them with the knife and gobbling them down, some of the peach juice running down his chin.

Billy and John did as they were asked and then Ralph gave John a kitchen match. John set the sticks on fire. The stench of Emory’s burning body filled the air.

“Let’s go,” Billy said. “I don’t want to see this, smell it neither.”

“No,” Ralph said, eating more peaches, “you just find you a seat.

We’ll kinder pretend we’re at the movies.”

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