Seagull: A Southern Novel by Paul Lawton

Author:Paul, Lawton [Paul, Lawton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lawton Paul
Published: 2014-12-24T23:00:00+00:00

Matty and I walked back to his house after our first lesson. Matty had invited me to dinner. When I told AJ she requested a full report when I got back. She was happy Matty's parents were back together and the house was finally clean.

"You pissed at the old man?" Matty asked me in front of his nicely manicured lawn.

"Naw. I know what he was doing." The sun was almost down. It was my favorite time of day, when the light is perfect and everything is orange. I wished I could see the sky from our dock instead of through Matty's trees. "But what I wanna know is where his intel came from. He hit me with the Hailey thing a few times."

"Did it piss you off?"

"Yeah."

"Nice. That was my contribution," he said, smiling proudly.

"Bastard," I said, which was also an invitation to the one-word insult smackdown.

"Wussy," he fired back.

"Fudgepacker."

"Polesmoker."

"Asshat."

"Knuckledragger."

"Douchenugget."

"Buttmunch."

"Turdburglar."

"Dingleberry."

It was my turn and I couldn't think of anything so I improvised: "I'm-gonna-tell-Jenny-Swinson-you-want-to-butter-her-muffin."

"What? I don't wanna butter Jenny's muffin. And you lose 'cause it's gotta be one word."

"Ha ha. You just said, 'I don't want to butter Jenny's muffin!' That was great. And you're lying," I said.

"Who's got buttered muffins?" said Matty's mom, standing in the doorway.

"Uhhh. Yeah, I was just telling Jesse that we've got buttered muffins tonight, right?" Matty said. "You know, the ones in the little tin that you sometimes, accidentally burn. ...that I love." I enjoyed watching Matty flail in front of his mother. If only I had a lawn chair and a nice cool drink like a spectator at a football game. Watching Matty squirm and BS his mother, who, in fact, knew she was getting BSed, was priceless. He had, very un-Mattylike, torpedoed himself by bringing up the burned rolls, then clumsily corrected with the "that I love" bit. But he could afford to be careless. I was there, and she wouldn't challenge him in front of the dinner guest.

"Matty, have you lost your mind? Those are dinner rolls. Now y'all come eat. Jesse, I'm sorry we don't have any rolls." We walked in and she slapped Matty on the head playfully.

"That's okay, Mrs. Milton, I'll survive," I said.

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