[11] Soft Elbows

[11]

The tv is too dumb for words. The guy and the car got into trouble and then they got out of trouble. I mean, I thought I would be glad the tv was on, but now it is just a distraction. Impossible to ignore. Not that there is anything else going on, but still. I mean, I still want to know what the hell happened to Sniffles. The duffel bag filled with money or drugs or whatever. Confusion. Sniffles' super secret Lander Valley Tigers duffel bag of confusion. I mean, I don't think he is coming back. Or at least I think that the Matron thinks he is not coming back. Otherwise why would she rent his room out to the Robert and Gay the travelling business couple from the 50's or something. I mean, a perm? In this day and age? A hat? Who wheres a hat? And not a baseball cap or whatever, a full-on hat. Like something from the movies. With a brim on all sides. A indentation in the front. Two dimples on the side or whatever. Like a cowboy hat meets a bowler. You know the one I mean. Like from the movies. That kind of hat. Like something somebody would put a piece of paper in the ribbon that goes around the outside that says "Press" on it. Whatever, it's not important what kind of hat it is. It is just a hat. I mean, who wears a hat like that these days? That's all I am saying. I mean, I don't wear a hat like that. I don't know a single person that wears a hat like that. But here we are, a woman in a perm and a man in a hat like that. Robert and Gay. Even the names. Robert. Not Bobby, not Robby, not Bert even, just Robert. And Gay? Where does a name like that come from? I mean, this couple, the business couple, they seem to be in their late forties, maybe early fifties. I mean, I am not much younger than them, not in any real sense, but, you know what I mean? It is like they were pulled out of time and put here just for show or something. I mean, not really, they seem entirely modern. The car they drive is the same car I drive. Or drove, I guess, before I got ditched. Dangling like a salty booger on a scummy motel room corner. I mean, they seemed like modern people. To me, at least. Aside from the hat and the names and the perm and the clothes, I guess. But, I mean, the suit Robert was wearing wasn't that outdated. I mean, he is a businessman, I suppose. Or so it seems. But Gay? Her clothes were really something out of the 50's or the 60's or something. Thick and synthetic. I mean, even a suitcase. Who uses a suitcase anymore? I mean, everyone uses a suitcase, but what I mean is, their suitcase is an actual suitcase, with like a handle. A box with a handle. A thinish box with a handle. Also out of the 50's or 60's or something. I mean, I really don't think they have anything to do with this scenario that I find myself in, but still, I mean, they are some odd birds if I think about it. Which, I guess I am, but it is really hard to focus with this fucking tv on. Blaring out dumb-ass shit. I mean, I don't even know what is on now. Just something even stupider than the last thing. Which was stupider still than the thing about the guy and the car. What an annoying turn of events. I mean, Sniffles seems to be long gone. I don't think my body is coming back. I mean, if Sniffles aint coming back, there is no way I am coming back. I mean, unless I happened to notice the antique tv before I left. Which, I mean, I didn't even notice it until I was forced to notice it. There is no way my body would have noticed it when it left. Hungover and being molested by the dog. Little JuJu Beans. I mean, the dog is medium-sized, but I think I would call her little JuJu. Or Beanie Weenie. I mean, she isn't a weiner dog. I mean, I know what a weiner dog looks like. I think. They got those short legs and long bodies. Good for going down gopher holes or whatever. Hunting mice or something. I guess. I mean, I want to think that JuJu Beans is like a hound? No, hounds have like long ears or something. A terrier? No, aren't those dogs really small? I don't know. I have no idea. A regular dog. Whatever that means. Like a dog with regular ears and a regular amount of hair. But brown. Not yellow or whatever. A brown, regular dog with regular ears. That's the kind of dog JuJu Beans is. If you care.

I guess some time has gone by because it looks like it is getting later outside. There hasn't been any real activity since Robert and Gay left. No new guests or whatever. Patrons. Tony never came back around. The Matron hasn't come into the room to fart one out. Danny isn't out and about, being drunk or whatever. Things seem pretty uneventful at the moment. No crickets or mice. Just me and the tv. The dumb old tv. Blaring out stupid shit. I mean, it is relentless. Distracting and stupid. I am still trying to figure out that car show. With the guy and his car. I mean, I don't write tv shows, but I would think you would have a better idea about something than to have a guy and car go around solving mysteries or something. I mean, I am not that smart myself, maybe you have noticed, but even I found that shit offensive to my sensibilities. I mean, the show seemed kind of old. Like from a few decades ago, but still, were people just big idiots back then? I mean, I guess the show with the stripper cops wasn't much better, but at least that had some sort of realistic drama. I mean, it was all fake, but the people involved seemed like they at least had some plausible beefs with the stripper cops. But the guy and the car? That was just a guy and his car going around driving. I mean, at least he could have a dog or something. Some sort of emotional attachment to something. I mean, who cares about a car? I mean, lots of people car about their cars, but still, not in this way. I mean, whatever. I wish that someone would come in and turn the tv off. I am sorry for asking for it to be left on before. I was wrong. I would rather have pure silence than all this noise. Especially when it is just drivel. Loud drivel. I mean, I can't look away from it. It is just there. Moving pictures. If I try to look away I just get dragged back. Something happens. Out of the corner of my eye and then there I am again. Just looking. Like that Old Dan Tucker dude. That was late for supper. Who washed his face in a frying pan. Combed his hair with a wagon wheel. Had a toothache in his heel. Get out the way, Old Dan Tucker, get out the way, Old Dan Tucker, get out the way, Old Dan Tucker, it's too late to get your supper.

Suppers over, dinners cookin', Old Dan Tucker, stood there lookin'.

I mean, that song is my life I guess. I mean, I didn't have a toothache in my heel, but I did lure a dog with my heel. And now I am just here lookin'. Maybe there is something to be learned from the song? I mean, I don't really comb my hair. And if I did I wouldn't use a wagon wheel. I mean, I guess I have been late to supper sometimes. But I think the supper in the song means lunch. And being late to lunch isn't that big of deal. I mean, Old Dan Tucker was a mighty man. I am not a mighty man. I am an average man. I mean, I don't really ever wash my face. I mean, I do, but I do it in the shower. I mean, I don't use a frying pan to do it. I mean, whatever. I am just grasping at straws here. I mean, I guess the only thing that me and Old Dan Tucker have in common is we both stand around looking. I mean, I am not even standing. I am dangling. I mean, whatever. I mean, am I losing it? I mean, I don't think I am, but all the clues about this mystery of just dangling around in a skanky motel room are disappearing like the Matron's orgasm farts in the wind. I mean, and I can't even smell anything, so I just have to assume the farts are blowing away in the winds. I mean, Gay didn't complain about farts. Not really. I mean, she did seem pretty upset with the stinks that Robert let loose. I mean, before they left the room. I mean, she really only complained about cigarette smoke. I mean, not that the Matron's orgasm farts would just dangle around like I do. But who knows? I mean, I can't smell shit, so I don't really know. I mean, I don't remember the room smelling like farts when I came here the other night to meet Sniffles with the bottle of gin and the pack of Doral 100s. But then again, I don't remember much from that night. Aside from coming here. But even that mystery, the mystery of the missing hours when I got drunk and roofied, I mean, what does that even matter anymore. I mean, if Sniffles isn't coming back. If I am not coming back. I mean, my body. If JuJu Beans is long gone. The duffel bag full of money or drugs or whatever else was in there. I mean, I mean, I mean I feel like I should just give up. Not that that matters at all. I can give up all I want but it won't mean anything will change. I mean, I guess I could stop this thinking campaign and just watch the tv, but even that seems just as boring as dangling around looking at stuff until night comes around. I mean, I am not looking forward to tonight. But, I mean, in theory I have a little bit to look forward to. Robert and Gay with be back. They left their stuff here. I mean, in theory they will be back. I guess. But what the hell do I know? I mean, I have been wrong about almost everything else. Why not this? I mean, I guess I was right when I thought that the Matron didn't actually own JuJu Beans. But still, there is no way to prove that unless she happened to walk in front of the window and stopped. Stood there with somebody, Danny I suppose and said:

"You know, Danny, I am glad that that guy took the dog. Because I don't own the dog. And the dog was making you jealous anyway. Plus, let’s talk about how I got the dog. Remember how Sniffles couldn't pay his motel bill so we stole his dog? And then as a ruse we called the cops about it? Remember that, Danny? Remember how we took the dog as collateral and then the guy tricked us with his buddy that took the dog away in his 2002 Chrysler Sebring normal colored? You remember that, Danny? And you were drunk and then I went into the room and farted out an orgasm and then I didn't change the sheets or the towels or whatever because I am bad at this job of running this skanky motel. Not only that, but then that Sniffles guy came back around and left the door open so I could see he was looking into a duffel bag that was filled with money and then I was supposed to infer that he was going to pay me back but he didn't he just left and then I rented the room out to the business couple from the 50's or 60's the ones with the perm and the suit and the hat and the synthetic thick dress. Remember that Danny? And then you walked by the room late at night talking to somebody that nobody knows who it was and you weren't drunk anymore. Remember that, Danny? And then there was that guy Tony who may or may not be a psychopath. Who had a buddy come pick him up and take him away. Remember that, Danny? Remember?"

I mean, you see what I am up against here? I mean, it is all just a bunch of nonsense. I mean, I can't even get a single thing codified. In any way. I am just dangling here watching it all go down. With only my eyes and ears to keep me company. I mean, I assume the business couple will come back. And I hope they do. I think they might be on a date at the moment. Or at least a dinner. Maybe a work dinner? I mean, it seems like Gay doesn't usually travel with Robert. So, I mean, who knows. Maybe they will get frisky and put on a show? I mean, that would be fun. Watching a middle aged couple have sex in a skanky motel room after a couple gin and tonics or whatever. I mean, Gay doesn't strike me as the most sexually liberated person and Robert just seems like a flaccid middle aged man with a poor diet. I mean, it could get pretty weird in here for a few moments. And then what? They pass out watching a show about a man and his car? Or Robert gets the shits again and causes Gay a bunch of unavoidable grief? I mean, sure, it all seems fun right now, but so what? They snore through the night and then I am left here listening to crickets and waiting for the morning again? And then what? They leave and the Matron comes in and farts one out again? I mean, I think the word frustrated is an understatement. I mean, what the fuck? Am I really just stuck here watching this nonsense from here on out? I mean, what the hell did I do wrong in my life that this is my penance? I mean, I admit I was an asshole to the dumb-asses that I tricked into going to Greeley for me, but I mean, I mean, that time is about to expire. As far as I am concerned. I mean, sure, it is probably more than a couple of days of time that I had dumb-asses driving around for me without getting paid for it, but still. I mean, sure, okay, it is a four hour drive from Casper to Greeley. A four hour drive back. Yes, I mean, if I do the math, that kind of adds up to months not weeks nor days. So what? And, yes, it is true that those trips you kind of have to sit around waiting to meet up with the connection. Which would add a few more weeks to my sentence. And, yes, I won't lie about it anymore, you are very likely to get pulled over when doing this. That is just facts. I mean, everyone knows the Feds are on the lookout for shit like this. I mean, I know I said that it was their own fault when they got busted, the dumb-asses, but that is not true. The whole thing is very risky. And there are people looking out for people like me and these dumb-asses going back and forth to Greeley and Casper. And yes, it is true that transfering drugs across state lines is a federal offense that carries more jail time than anything local. I mean, I admit it. I took advantage of these dumb-asses. My hands are not clean. I used them. I used them for my own benefit and not only that, but I really didn't pay them well. I mean, I took most of the money. But so what? So what. Does that mean that I should be locked up in this motel room forever? Just dangling around looking at shit? I mean, if you as me, I have about a week, tops! I mean, I guess I have as much time as I am going to get, but still, in just world, I have maybe a week of confinement and that is it. I mean, maybe two weeks. A month. No more than a month. I mean, two months, tops! I mean, I don't really know, all I know is that I was tricked into being here and I don't deserve it. I mean, I did some sketchy shit, that is true, but still, it doesn't mean that I have to just dangle around all day watching tv and business couples doing god know what. I mean, right? I mean, in a just world I would at least get to defend myself, right? Like face my accusers or something. I mean, unless they are all in on this scheme, I mean, that is possible I guess. I mean, maybe Sniffles gathered up all my dumb-asses and got them together and hatched some plan to drug me and leave the good parts of my brain in a skanky motel room in Lander fucking Wyoming for an indefinite amount of time. I mean, that would be cruel, but I wouldn't put it past Sniffles. I mean, for all I know he already killed my body. Has JuJu Beans in his car. And they are sleeping in my apartment as we speak. Counting my money. The same money that I stole from the dumb-asses. I mean, maybe he killed the dumb-asses too? I mean, Sniffles is cheap. There is no way he would share the money he stole from me. I mean, maybe that is it? Maybe he tortured me, had me tell him where my money is, killed me, took JuJu Beans, which is his dog anyway, I mean, if my brain is correct, then drove back to my apartment in Casper. Got my money and is now on his way to California. I mean, that is what I would have done if I was him. First use me to get my dog back and then take me out to the badlands, torture me, kill me, and take my dog and steal my money. I mean, I don't know what the dumb-asses have to do with anything, but still, they would be good people to have on your side. I mean, if some shit was going to go down, but still, he would have to tell them that they were going to get a cut of the action. I mean, that is the only thing that doesn't make sense. I mean, maybe he needed some drugs to roofie me, so that is where they come in? I mean, I guess. But still, he didn't need to drug me, or fake drink me out. I mean, I would have gone along with his plan irregardless. I mean, I told you before it was a hilarious plan. And very smart as far as Sniffles was concerned. But whatever. I mean, maybe he needed the dumb-asses to help him bury my body or something? To help him torture me. I mean, whatever, I mean, I feel like I would just tell him where the money was. Because why would he need to torture me? I mean, I told you before, it is a good amount of money, but not millions of dollars. I mean, I don't think. I mean, it is a lot. More than I need. I mean, I don't think I would risk getting tortured about though. I mean, I would just let him have the money. Hope he didn't kill me. And if he didn't I would just hunt him down and take it back. I mean, that guy is so cheap that he is predictable. I mean, he would either just stay in my apartment or go to his mom's before he left town. He wouldn't hide out in a hotel or motel even. I mean, this is really the most confusing thing about this entire endeavor. Like, since when would Sniffles pay for an entire week at a motel? I mean, that part is really fishy to me and makes me doubt all of my thinking. I mean, I won't lie, if he did pay for a week at this skanky motel in Lander fucking Wyoming and the Matron gave his room away, I mean, I really think he will be back. Even if he has all my money and a dead body to worry about in the badlands. I mean, even if he has JuJu Beans with him. I mean, he would come back just to make a stink. I mean, and then the cops would have a real reason to come around. Right?

Whatever. Sniffles and I go way to far back for him to do me that dirty. I mean, I wouldn't put it past him to steal my money. But kill me in the badlands? I mean, he is cheap, but he is also lazy. I mean, but when I say that, I think about the dumb-asses again. I mean, he might be lazy enough to hire a goon to help him murder me just so he doesn't have to dig a grave or whatever. I mean, some of that dirt out there is really hard dirt. I mean, depending on where you go. And if he was smart he would bury my body deep. Too deep for the coyotes or whatever. I mean, l don't think anyone would really miss me. I mean, in theory my parents would care, but they don't know shit about me or what I do, so they aren't going to really be a fountain of information if the cops come around. I mean, they would probably just be annoyed with the whole thing. Tell them stories about how much of a disappointment I am and whatever. I mean, whatever. Parents are clueless anyway. I mean, my point is, I would at least hope that Sniffles bothered driving a few miles into the badlands before he killed me. I mean, but this is what I mean, he is just so short-sighted and lazy and cheap. I mean, I could see him being worried about his gas tank when he was taking me out there to kill me. I mean, he would get about half a mile and then look around. Decide it was far enough. And then get on of the dumb-asses to dig a little ditch. Threaten me with torture. I would probably break pretty fast. I mean, if he was holding a gun to my head or whatever. And then, I mean, he probably wouldn't even kill me himself. He would get one of the dumb-asses to do it. And they would fuck it up. And I would take forever to die. If I even died at all. And then they would bury me in a shallow grave. Still alive. Steal my 2002 Chrysler Sebring normal colored. Drive about one hundred yards before realizing it was a bad idea to take it. Leave it on the side of the dirt road. Drive off in Sniffles car. He would make some excuse why he had to drop them off at a diner or something. Then he would go to my apartment. Probably eat some of my food. Take a nap. Get my money. Take JuJu Beans to his mom's house. She would get mad about the dog. He would throw a fit. Then storm off. Probably go to the bar or something. Leaving the money in a Lander Valley Tigers duffel bag. The dumb-asses would get a clue about what happened. Call some friends. Other dumb-asses. And they would hunt Sniffles down. And it wouldn't be hard. Because they would know where he goes. The would break into his car. Steal the money. And that would be that. Sniffles would be heart broken, but whatever. I mean, the dumb-asses would probably take JuJu Beans with them, because Sniffles would have left her in the car because he is an asshole. And they would just take the money and JuJu Beans and drive to California. Meanwhile, I would be crawling out of my shallow grave, half-alive, walking to my 2002 Chrysler Sebring normal colored. Getting in it. Driving the three hours to Casper to hunt Sniffles down. And he would still be in the bar, not knowing that he had been robbed and he would say something stupid to me like:

"Yo dog, you look a little roughed up." And I would say:

"You realize you have been robbed?" And his eyes would get big and he would run out of the bar. Then come back all dejected and say:

"Dude, they took the dog." And I would just sit there with him for a while before he drove me to the hospital and dropped me off. And that would be that.

I mean, you see what I mean? I don't deserve to just dangle here forever. I will get whatever is coming to me regardless of what happens now. I mean, I know my days are numbered. I know the company I keep. It is no sweat off of my neck when it comes to justice. I mean, shit, I am already fucked. I have been fucked since day one. The cards are stacked against me. I mean, I can't catch a break. I mean, if I ever caught a break it was when I got drugged and sneaky drinked by Sniffles here in this skanky motel room in Lander fucking Wyoming. I mean, if I was smart I took JuJu Beans back to Casper and it is me on the road with all that money heading to California. I mean, if all the smart parts of my brain got left here, I mean, that is what I would do if I decided to not worry about shit anymore. I mean, right?

Whatever. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. I mean, I am Old Dan Tucker over here. Washing my face in a frying pan. I mean, I guess it is night now. I suppose. The light outside is nearly gone. Nothing has happened in the parking lot for ages. No Danny. No Matron. No cars. No trucks. I mean, the light is pretty outside. Dusk, I guess. I suppose the crickets will be back soon. If not the business couple. I mean, the tv has switched to the evening news. I guess the Lander Valley Tigers have won another meet. Big surprise. I mean, I guess they didn't get robbed like I thought. Or if they did the news isn't covering it for some reason. But still, that doesn't rule out Sniffles going to their bus earlier. I mean, I suppose it does. The meet was in Laramie. I mean, the timing on that heist would be all wrong. I mean, the bus would have had to leave way before dawn if they were going to make that meet on time. And if that was true, then Sniffles coming here in the morning, half-sweaty, I mean, maybe it was in the afternoon, I can't even tell with time anymore, I mean, either way, the timing would be off. I mean, they, meaning the swim team, could have gotten to Laramie in time for the meet in the morning if they left really early, in theory, but they wouldn't have left in the mid-morning or after noon. I mean, and also, they wouldn't be travelling with a bunch of money if they were just going to a local meet. I mean, there is no reason for that. They get there, do the meet, get back on the bus, stop at the McDonald's or whatever, get back to Lander by nine or ten. I mean, I guess I was wrong about thinking there was a bus heist. That still doesn't explain Sniffles' behavior. though. I mean, whatever. As far as I know he is still out there in the badlands burying my half-dead body in the shallow grave. Poor JuJu Beans scared from all the gunshots. Probably whimpering in the front seat of Sniffles' car. Annoyed about how loud the dumb-asses are being about how hard the dirt is.