Dirt road main street

From your Author:

I hear my readers. Some want me to do one thing and bring it to fruition before starting something new. From a writer's view it can be hard when you hit a wall, just can’t find more meaningful words to continue the story; that is where I find myself sometimes.

I can only speak for myself but, I need a distraction. I have well over a hundred chapters on this site and I like to stay up to date adding a chapter of something every few days. Readers, some readers, find that hard to follow, and I never thought about that so, I will finish ‘Dirt Road Main Street’ before I post anything else. 

Derion brought up a good point that I never even realized about what goes on in these little towns. I do write about shit like this and how life and location can fuck you. I write from life experiences and how I interpreted them. Could you even imagine growing up in a town like this?

I must say that working on just one thing may have me scrambling for something to entertain the others. ‘The Start’, brought distraction when I was finishing ‘Robby and Ryan’. ‘The Bug’ was a distraction from ‘Something Different’. DRMS, is a distraction from the others. 

I used to be one of those guys that just read stories. I never thought about the Author’s, didn’t read comments, or even think about the other readers. ‘Eyes Wide Open’. That was five years ago when I thought I might catch the eye of a reader. My first attempt at, ‘Robby and Ryan’.

‘R&R’ was my life. It must have been at least 250,000 words; non-fiction. ‘The Start’ was a distraction, as well.  It hurt me ending that 40 plus chapter series. The Start, allowed me to continue my theme of music, sexual dysfunction, and what it was like being different. I have always promoted higher ed, believing in yourself, and loving life.

‘The Start’ came about after a school shooting causing me to reevaluate shit. And if the bug has done one thing; no school shootings. And as I ran out of shit for that, ‘The Bug’ was born. If I can say a few things to readers; show the love. RJC. 

The next day I got my first taste; if you know what I mean and he didn’t tap me out either. I arrived by bus that year and departed by train; further away from home to Minneapolis; some time with cousins and then a longer ride home.

“Missed a spot.” And Ben licked his thumb running it across the left side of my face.

“Shit!” And another set of headlights came to a stop in a cloud of dust.

“Go in the house, Ben.” It went without saying.

It was my Uncle’s son, Dilbert. I know. Really? Who names their fuckin kid, that? “What did you say to my Dad?” he asked starting up the stairs?

I swung the screened sash open causing him to step back and I met him a step above. We were eye to eye. My cousin had fallen the way of fucking a girl in Willow and had been married for more than half his life. The thought of that made me smile.

“It wasn’t what I said to him, but what he said to me. All of you hicks can suck my dick,” And I cupped myself.

“You got balls!” And I reaffirmed what he said with another squeeze.

I sensed a change as he shook his head. “All Dad wanted. He has never been in the house. He’d heard stories about it. He’s never been inside the actual house.”

“All he had to do was, fuckin ask.”

“My Dad never asks for anything.”

“Well; you go back and tell, Your Daddy, if he wants to see the inside of his Father’s house; he just needs to fuckin ask. You can come with him.” And I let the screen close.

I sat down and wondered what I should reach for first; Blunt or bottle. I guess my Uncle had never been in this house and that said a lot about his Dad; My Grandfather. And even more about my Aunt; his sister. What the hell kind of back roads shit went on in this town? I remembered being in church with my Aunt; my Uncle sitting on the other side of the aisle.

The bottle won; didn’t need a match. I thought more about Billy until Ben made another appearance. “You are like Kryptonite to them. Dilly, could have squashed you like a bug.” And he laughed sitting next to me.

“Never, in all my years, has anyone talked to him or, his Daddy, like you did. You, are the Champion.”

“Fuck, Ben! I haven’t even been in town twelve hours and I’ve caused a shit storm on levels that will take generations to forget. You need to go home.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You said you’d smoke some of that shit you blew in your uncle's face. I have a lighter.”

I puffed as his shaking handheld the flame and used a hand to hold his still. I passed it to him. “You should go home.”

“You know what I have? Nothing. I don’t own a fuckin thing; just like your cousin. All I have is my clothes, the shit in my room; that’s all I have.” He admitted for some strange reason.

“But you are.”

“I’m nothing, just like Dilly. If we stay all we get is what our Daddy’s give us. Now, will you pass that thing?”

I was now coming to grips with just what this town was like. I was looking at a very handsome young man who had to sneak out his window to be here now; risking everything. In my world; you ask a guy out; he declines. You move on. Ben was risking; maybe his life, being with me tonight. “You need to go home.”

“Please? Will you just tell me what you and Billy, did?” And he knelt between my legs.

OK. He now had my full fuckin attention. His hands ran up the outside of my legs, past my waist, then up to my sides. “You need to go home, Ben.” I know I sounded like a recording, but it was all I had.

“You’re gonna have to roll me out the door.” His look and smile did nothing to help me.

“No, Ben. You really need to go home.”  I was at wit's end. He was hot as fuck and all I wanted him to do was let me off the hook.

“No Ryan. You are going to have to manhandle me like you did with your Uncle.” What do you say to that?

“Jesus Christ, Ben.”

“You can’t use the Lord's name in Vain.”

I was having a fucking meltdown. I hadn’t been here in almost fifteen years; my Grandparents and Aunt’s house; now mine. I’d made a huge seen in Willow, helped my Uncle off the porch by his suspenders, and now the younger brother of the kid who I’d done stuff with was wanting something from me.

“Look, Ben.” And he leaned up, put the cherry in his mouth, and blew me a nose hit. Fuck me into next week.

Surprisingly, after the huge cloud of blue smoke, he stood. “Very few people have ever been in this house; would you let me see?” And it was said in a way I could never deny his request.

We walked in and turned left into the dining room, living room, I pulled the huge pocket doors to the Parlor so he could see. The staircase was between that room and the downstairs bedroom door, and it was grand. I don’t know what kind of wood the banister was made of but it matched all the crown molding, trim for the windows, and I think all the doors were the same thing.

I walked behind him as he ascended the stairs; what a fucking view in those tight Wranglers, and no shirt. He took a right at the top looking in each room; all having two large windows. And he looked through the glass door at the end of the hall leading to the upper porch.

He just smiled shaking his head when he came to the room that was familiar to me; the NW room. “Why would you take this room when the West room is twice this size?”

“Size isn’t everything, Farmboy.” That got a dimpled smile.

“What’s behind that door?” He asked. That would be the NE room.

“I snuck in once when they were gone. It’s the smallest room and the stairs to the attic are in there.”

“Can I see?”

I reached above the door pulling down the Skelton key and unlock it swing the door open. “Cool.” Was all he said.

He waited at the top of the stairs, bowed with a hand motion, “After you.”

Back in the screened porch, a few more pulls from the bottle and joint, I had to ask? “What do you think is going to happen here, Ben?”

“I don’t know. I want to do stuff but one wrong move with the other guys in town could be the death of me.”

“So, you want to experiment, with me? Is that it?”

“Yes. But it sounds bad the way you say it.”

“Jesus Christ, Ben.”

“Can’t take the Lord's name in vain.”

“I can’t do that, Ben. It’s not the kind of guy I am. Doing stuff, as you put it, is more personal to me. Sex without feeling is just empty sex; it’s just fucking. I think that’s part of the problem; too much fucking and not enough lovemaking.”

“I don’t understand?”

“In the state, I come from there are clubs where guys like me go; it’s like a fuckin buffet. You go there to score. You buy a drink or two, maybe dance, make out a little, then take someone home and fuck. It’s great at the time but it’s an empty feeling, Ben.”

“That’s not what I’m looking for, either.”

“When this joint is gone you are going home, crawling back in your bedroom window, and forget all of this. If you come back; you won’t be welcome, Ben.”

“I may be a hick, might fantasize about stuff I’m not supposed to, maybe I’m too dumb to understand. I see your mouth moving, hear what you’re telling me, but your eyes are saying something else. Tell me I’m wrong?”

If my eyes were reflecting what was swirling around in my brain, he was not too dumb. I thought about how he looked, how his brother looked when I was younger, and what could happen in the next few hours. NO. This could not and would not happen. Ben was a little more than a year younger than me and this wasn’t gonna happen.

“Tell me I’m wrong?” came again.

“I don’t know what you see in my eyes but, I feel sorry for you and all the other boys in the godforsaken town. We’re done, Ben,” and I stood handing him his shirt.

Talk about eyes doing your talking for you; his were wet. And I felt like shit. Ben tucked his shirt down the back of his pants slowly walking to the sash door. “Am I really not welcome?” He had to fuckin ask.

My eyes, face, and body language must have answered his question. “See you tomorrow.” He said with a smile.

Now the joint wasn’t gone, a few pulls left in the bottle, and I just wanted to call him back. I wanted him to come back and do all the stuff he dreamed of and some he didn’t know he wanted to do. I sucked the last of the bottle down along with the herb and hash in the joint, walked the stairs to my room, and dug for the lube in my bag.

After brushing my teeth, admiring myself in the mirror, I retreated to the NW room. I didn’t lock the door downstairs, there were no curtains on the windows, I sprawled out dripping lube on my already hard cock. One of two things was going to happen; I would stroke myself for an hour with images of Ben, or last a few strokes thinking of him. The latter won.

The one nice thing about this room was the sun didn’t wake you. But I was up a little after dawn. As far as food goes, this place was flat, broke. I’d have gone to the little store/post office but that place burned down some years back and the Post Office was a room in the back of a mobile home now.   

There was no way in hell I’d go back to the seine of last night’s debacle. Fuck! Sixteen miles to the next town. I have no idea what time I passed out; the booze, weed, or the head-spinning orgasm; who knows? But here I was at a North Dakota rendition of an IHOP. I was starved.

It was before seven on a Saturday morning and the place was packed. I’d taken a stool at the counter, tablet in hand returning emails, and sending one to my Lawyer when the bell over the door chimed causing me to look in the direction of the sound.

Ben and three other boys walked in and I did my best; ‘don’t, you, fuckin dare’ eyes, turning back to my tablet and black coffee. They took a dirty table for four complaining it was dirty and making a fuss just a little too loud. I did size them up pretty fast just in case things went to shit.

By the mouth on one, I knew he’d have to be the first to go down. Between the other two, one would run, and I didn’t worry about Ben. I was flirting up the high school girl waiting on me even calling her by the name on the little tag. That got his attention.

He saddled up next to me as I was telling Sally she had beautiful hands. “Go sit down, Jimmy Ray,” she told him pulling her hands from mine as I swiveled to make eye contact with him.

I saw the look on Bens’ face as the others were laughing. He wasn’t laughing. Now I stand around five-eleven to six one depending on the convenience store I’m walking out of. I have had ten years of martial arts, I’ve dodged some real fast fists, and I have always been the one to walk away.

Out of all of them, I would be considered the smallest, pretty face, and much leaner than these ND farm boys. “You think your hot shit, don’t you?” To which I didn’t respond looking for any tells he might give away.

I could tell he was right-handed because that was the hand he used to attempt a finger in my chest. I broke that finger in the blink of an eye and with the palm of my other hand popped his eardrum. I may or may not have reset his finger when he was ready to drop.

The place was full, I’d just embarrassed, Jimmy Ray, in front of people who I was sure didn’t like him. This was a town of people who didn’t blink at what happened. I looked at the table and knew the other two would both run; Ben was fighting a smile.

“Looks like your ear is bleeding, Jimmy Ray. You might wanna go to the little girl’s room and take care of that.” And made a move like I was lunging at him.

My ass never left the stool and I turned back to breakfast. I was hungry. Three eggs, bacon and sausage, Toast, and hash browns. “Got any ketchup, hun?”

The sound of the crash was loud. Jimmy had rammed his oversized truck into my rental; A Mustang GT. I called Hertz as he was backing up thinking he needed a little more room. Another crash and he’d pushed my car into the one parked next to me. And he was backing up again.

You always want to take out that extra insurance when you rent a car; I saw most of the people in the place gathered around windows with their phones out. I smiled picking up a piece of bacon popping the yoke on two eggs. “Yes, I’m still here,” I said to the guy.

“I am afraid my rental’s had a mishap. A crazy man is ramming it with his pickup, as we speak. Can you deliver another to the Rugby Diner on Hwy 2? Thank you. You’ll need a tow truck.”

Now Jimmy Ray was having a hard time getting his truck to start after the third smash. The Sherriff was blocking the back of his truck and called him by name when he pulled him out. He cuffed him putting him in the back of a cop car that looked older than me; and I continued to eat with a smile on my face.

“Anybody know who owns the cars out there?”

I didn’t stop eating with the biggest smile on my face. Two guys stepped up saying the second and third were theirs and I assume pointed at me for car number one. “Constable?” I said when he stood next to me.

“He said you attacked him. You broke his fuckin finger; bad, And, he’s bleeding from the ear.”

“Ask anyone, Deputy. He made a threatening gesture towards me and I protected myself. Ask anybody in here.”

“Who are you, boy?” I told him my name and gave my mothers’ maiden.

“His Daddy isn’t gonna be happy about this, Boy.”

Now I never liked that ‘boy’ thing that old man used and I was thinking about doing the same to him I had to Jimmy. “Ask them.” And I waved my hand around then went back to my breakfast before it got cold.

As people moved outside I continued to eat one of the best breakfasts I’d had in a while. “You need to get out of town,” Ben said as he passed.

It was three cups of coffee before my new rental arrived on the back of a flatbed and the wreak was loaded. A wreaker with lights flashing was loading, what I assume, was his Daddy’s truck. The second car that was squeezed between mine and theirs, was waiting for a tow, and the third was drivable as long as you got in on the passenger’s side.

How was I able to start another shit storm??? Now I don’t live in ‘the hood’. I have a really nice house and there was no fuckin, way, I’d be run out of this little, pow-dunk-town, with my tail between my legs. Another Mustang GT, this one black, and I paid my bill.

I knew Ben didn’t give his warning lightly. There was a good chance that the hillbilly’s in that town might try and lynch me. When I got home I went to the downstairs bedroom looking for what I knew was there; my uncle’s guns. I found the hidden spot in the closet and admired his arsenal.

I’ve always liked Glock’s. Kimber 1911 is at the top. I bounced it back and forth between my hands then checked the clip. I reached for the pump; a scattergun. Loading it to the hilt along with another magazine for the pistol and I placed the shotgun next to the screened door; and the pistol in the cushion of the couch. It was only ten on a Saturday morning and I was readying myself for war.

Even with my headphones on I heard the truck and saw the dust. A man more than twice my age pulled his huge frame out and Jimmy got out the other side; both moving to the stairs.

“You come out here, Boy. Nobody does something like that to my little Jimmy, without an ass-whooping.”

Now I didn’t need to, but I did. The Glock from the cushion was now stuffed in the front of my pants as I pushed the screen door open. “Your deranged son is what happens when you make babies with your sister.” I didn’t mean to say that but maybe I did seeing his reaction.

“Shit like that is against the law in my state and I won’t press charges if you commit him to a hospital that might help.”

He made it up two stairs when I picked up the shotgun, throwing it in the air, pumping it in my right hand loading the chamber. He paused. “I’ll drop both of you and will be in my right with you trespassing and trying to threaten me. Want to bleed out with a gutshot as I tap your little boy in the head?”

He took another step up and I knew I couldn’t shoot him but I could launch his huge ass back with a kick to the chest and I’ll be damned if he didn’t take Jimmy Ray down with him.

Now Buford, or whatever his name was, was clutching his chest as I walked down the stairs with the shotgun in hand; I planted one to the nose of his new truck. Three more pumps with my right hand across the hood. Jimmy had Daddy on his feet feeding him Nitro, or something. ‘this truck died of multiple gunshots to the private parts.’

“You won’t see tomorrow, Boy.” As they left on foot.

So I had now signed something close to my death warrant in this little town but it brought a smile to my face. Bring it on. It wasn’t even noon yet.

Another hour later the same sheriff was knocking on the door. The new pickup still had a little steam rising from the hood. “Constable?”

“You have no idea what you’ve started here, Boy.” And he puffed himself sticking his thumbs in the holster.

“It’s, Mr. Chancellor, to you.”

“Well, Mr. Chancellor; I’d pack my bags if I were you. I’m one man who covers the whole county. If you call for help I might not get here in time.” And he rocked his head back and forth with his thumbs in his belt. Give me a fuckin break.

“If you get a call; it won’t be from me. I didn’t start this potential blood bath. My Uncle can fuck himself. Jimmy Ray and his Daddy; well, they can fuck themselves as well. And that goes for you, too.” And I rocked my head back and forth just as he had then closed the door sitting back on the couch looking at him.

“Did you get all that, Park?’

“Jesus Christ, Ryan. What have you started? Nothing good can come from this; come back home.”

“You got all that, right?”

“You killed that man’s truck? You’ve lost any support from law enforcement; I think he’d shoot you, himself.”

“I know,” I said dejectedly. “You should see what this place is like. I never really understood places like this existed.”

“I’ll call the AG; see if he can get some State Troopers in your area. Just get on a fuckin plane and come home.”

“I can’t do that. The problem is this hick town, not me.”

“No, Ryan. You get on a fuckin plane, tonight. Come home.”

“Thanks, Parker. I’ll see you in a couple of days; Bye.”

I wished I’d gotten lunch to go. I smoked more than I drank. I did a bath and pulled off my pants and shirt that needed a little pouring into. The house, even with two bathrooms, didn’t have a shower. I know what you’re thinking, me, kicked back with headphones on, eyes closed. That wasn’t the case.

The scattergun was on the floor next to me, pistol under my towel, eyes open, and an ear tuned to the open window. But the fact was I was smiling, would shoot this place up if need be, And I would walk away, Scott free. I was second-guessing what I’d started and didn’t like the fact that the next town was 60 miles away.

Hello Google. I typed in places to eat then bars. I saw one that had Karaoke. At seven I slithered into tight pants, a shirt that was a little small for my arm, and smiled getting into the black GT. 60 miles can take an hour but I made it in thirty minutes.

I ate dinner in a ND version of a Black Angus. The town was bigger, had a collage, paved streets, and the bar was within walking distance. I told the guy at the door, “Really? A cover in North Dakota? Give me a break.” He motioned with his head.

The rich, baritone, voice, hit me first. A Josh Turner song. Long Black Train. I walked up to the bar ordering two CC 7’s then turned to see who that voice was coming from. I smiled seeing Ben with everyone hanging on his words. I don’t think he saw me as the bartender handed me the three-ring binder holding the songs.

I handed the book back with the tag, my name, and the song. He still hadn’t seen me; the place was packed.

“Is, RJC here? RJC?”

I stood, this was my wheelhouse. My pants were tight as Ben’s, catcalls rang out, and I talked to the guy. I listened to the intro, thought how he would look seeing me, and turned.

“Don’t lose your way, with each passing day, you’ve come so… far, don’t through it away. Live believing wonders are waiting to start. Live your story, faith hope, and glory; hold to the truth in your heart. If we hold on together, I know our dreams will never die. Dreams see us through.” He saw me and I saw him. I smiled so… big.

I wasn’t dressed like the others in cowboy boots, hats to match, and the fuckin pearl buttoned shirts. Yes, my pants were tight, silk shirt not tucked in so it would cover the Glock tucked in the small of my back. You never know.

“Dreams see us through to forever, where clouds roll by, for you and I. Souls in the wind must learn how to bend, seek out its’ start; hold on till the end.”

I had started swaying back and forth to the beat and it was catching on; most everybody was matching my moves,

“Beyond the mountain, there is a fountain, washes our tears all away.” 

This was nothing new to me. I could sing damn near anything. I could work a crowd and that is exactly what I did. I’d started doing the tick-tock motion just to one side on the half-beat. I changed to the beat moving my head to both sides; within two ticks the girls got it.

I mingled with the cordless mic. I bated my eyes at girls; kissing a hand or two and giving fist bumps to guys alongside them. I know when I’m being checked out and it made me smile. Poor Bastards. There was a small dance floor but no one danced; they just moved in closer to me.

“Words are swaying; someone is praying; please let us come home to stay.” Ben had a huge smile and was shaking his head back and forth.

“If we hold on together, I know our dreams will never die. When we are out there in the dark, we’ll dream above the sun. In the dawn we’ll feel the light; warm our hearts, everyone.” Girls moved and guys were just looking at me. For them, I hit a cord never knowing.

“Dreams see us through to forever, as high as souls can fly, the clouds roll by; for you and I.”

You could have heard a pin drop. It was a long time and then the clapping started. YES. The girls were excited and the guys next to them were pondering the meaning of words that came out of me. YES. You can tell. I saw 95 present of the guys that looked like they were ready to leave and find the boy that made them happy.

The other five present were getting slapped by girls who wanted to see just a small side of them they would never share; the, I get it, side.

I wasn’t sticking around and made a beeline to the door. A brisk walk to the car and I hit Hwy 2. I saw the lights in my mirror catching up fast; I was doing 85 then up to 120. The lights stayed a thousand feet behind for 45 miles. When I made the right at 70 miles an hour; I put the pedal down on this rental.

Someone was following me; but who? It could have been the Deputy. It could be one of the little rednecks from the pow-dunk town I was racing towards at three hundred feet per second. Now I was doing 140 MPH; the lights were falling back. After five miles I knew I had more than a mile lead and I shut off my lights driving by the moon and slowing down so I could make the turn without breaks.

The lights were getting closer so I coaster by the dirt road main street, coming to a rolling stop about a half-mile after. The lights turned so I turned around; still no lights. All I could see was dust when I turned to make my way down the three blocks; my house hadn’t been burned down.

Getting out of the car, I knew. I’d set the Glock in the passenger’s seat, and the shotgun within reach. I took both in the house. It was a little after ten as I rummaged through my bag again. I didn’t turn the light on as I sat putting a flame to the pre-rolled infused joint. I knew I was being a little too cocky.

I was almost sure it was Ben who followed me but his appearance surprised me. “Am I welcome?”

He could see me nod and sat next to me. “I didn’t sneak out my window if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I think it’s sad that you would have to.”

“Well, I didn’t, just so you know.” And I passed him the joint.

“You have a real deep voice, Ben. You sounded fantastic.”

“Thanks. You looked really good and sounded even better.” And he passed the joint back.

“So that was you following me?”

“You were going well over the speed limit, Ryan.” And I nodded.

“What you did to, JR, this morning isn’t gonna set well with his Daddy. Is what I heard, true?” He asked.

“Depends on what you heard.”

“Well, everybody saw the tractor pulling his truck home.” I smiled.

“Did you really pull a gun on him?”

“Guilty.”

“Did you really lay him out?”

“And he took Jimmy Ray down with him. Guilty.” Fuck I hate it when you can’t help but smile.

“I’m just the guy who came back to the scene of the crime. I don’t know what to do with this place?”

Now his leg kind of brushed next to mine, he turned slightly looking at me closer, and I could see a smile. “Ben, Ben, Ben?”

“Why did you pick that song. The words say many things. You had to know?” And again I smiled.

“People take what they want from a song. I know and saw the reaction from a few faces and saw eyes of boys like you checking me out. Yes, I knew. You are so… not alone, Ben.”

“What do you mean, Ryan?”

“I was checked out by more boys than girls, tonight.” And I put the flame to the joint that had extinguished a while ago.

“How do you know that?”

“There is a thing called, gaydar. Are you telling me that you can’t see when a guy is looking you up?”

“It was obvious when you looked at me but guys don’t do that here.”

“Then how did I see it tonight? I saw guys giving me ‘cum fuck me eyes.”

“You got to teach me.”

“How did you know that’s what I was doing, then?”

“You were out there. You didn’t even try and hide it. You showed me, cum fuck me eyes, as you call it.”

“Give me a break. I was being desecrate.” And he laughed causing me to laugh about the first time I saw him cleaned up.

“I guess I was looking for it from you. I see what you are saying about eyes sizing you up. Around here guys don’t look at another guy the way you looked at me.”

“Time for you to go, Ben; Church in the morning.”

“If you’re going, I wouldn’t miss it.” And he stood.

From your Author:

I have never just jumped into sex and I sure as hell won’t start now. We are five thousand word away from the ending of this distraction, for me. Like I’ve said, these stories are just that. I have said this is fiction; and some that isn’t.

What it boils down to is this, if you think you know me, seen the things I describe, then you are on this site and that is something you can never speak of. How sad? RJC.