Jason DeGroot's Blog, page 67

Melora thanked the young man who had escorted her to the engineering department of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.  He smiled shyly and walked away, leaving her standing at the entrance to a large conference room full of engineering students of all ages, nationalities, and genders as they spoke excitedly to one another, gesticulating wildly.  

Melora hesitantly entered the room, feeling out of place and uncomfortable.  All around her people were speaking passionately about the language of ...

Seth held the Rapido Delivery box in both hands as he and Manny approached the seemingly abandoned warehouse.  Manny had warned him to keep quiet before they'd even gotten into his car, and neither of them had spoken a word since.  Seth was exhausted.  Manny hadn't dropped him off from work until 4 in the morning.  Between Leo, Tino, Dylan, and two other guys who'd not shown up for work, they had been severely undermanned last night, and his shift which normally ended around 1 AM wasn't done ...

Jill was sitting on the bus stop bench across from the library and wiping her nose with a tissue when she saw Maureen walking across the street toward her.

"Oh god," she half moaned, half croaked, shoving the tissue into her pocket and wiping at her eyes.  By then, Maureen was standing in front of her, looking down at her, a quizzical, kindly look on her face.

"Mind if I take a seat?" she asked softly.

"Sure," Jill said shakily, sliding over to make room.

For a moment, both were silent, looking a...

General Zarma stood astride one of the mighty iron war cannons.  His golden horns glowed in the light, and his long dark hair, tied into a ponytail, whipped in the wind.  He clutched the Sword of Destinaro in his right hand and watched as his warships sailed back into the bay of Azure Hell.  From their decks and holds came the cheers of victory mixed in with the screams of the wounded and dying.  Zarma smiled grimly.  It had been an ugly battle, but they had emerged victorious.  Hagnar and...

Kibosh sat near his gate at Heathrow, waiting for his flight to board.  The seating area was jammed with travelers like him headed for New York, but regardless of the crush of people, the seats on both sides of him remained empty.  Kibosh smiled, humming tunelessly to himself, and took a sip of coffee.

The surprise phone call from Twitter had stirred memories in him that he'd chosen to forget, but between the call and his latest masterpiece in the fairytale house in Slough yesterday, he...

Seth stood out in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette, looking up at the stars that weren't obliterated by the stuttering streetlights.  It was 10 pm, first shift break.  The night was cool with a hint of the cold front he'd heard was moving in, but it felt good, especially on his right hand, which was starting to swell a little due to its contact with Leo's nose and jaw.  Seth took a long drag from the cigarette and exhaled up into the night.

He looked over and saw Manny hopping down out of ...

He sat on a bench at the train station with his briefcase lying on his lap, a small lunch of sandwiches, scones, and Starbucks spread out on a white handkerchief on top of it, a mini picnic.  He took a sip of coffee and exhaled in pleasure.

God bless America, he thought.  The world could bemoan American imperialism all they wanted, but without it he'd never be able to find a decent cup of coffee, or a decent hamburger, for that matter.  He took another sip and closed his eye with pleasure.

The train pulled away from the station, and he watched it slowly pick up speed with a private smile playing on his scarred lips.  With the train gone, he had an excellent view of the house beyond the tracks.  It was white with faded green gables and brown shingles in need of replacing.  It almost looked like something out of some fairytale.  They'll certainly be telling stories about it, he thought, and chuckled to himself.

He wondered how long before they found the bodies.  It was an aspect of his hobby that always fascinated him.  Sometimes it was within hours, sometimes days, there'd been a few that had never been discovered at all.  The time of discovery always gave him some insight into the life of his victims.  Those with many friends and family were found quickly and mourned with great fanfare and no one could conceive how someone could do such horrible things to such wonderful people.  Others were discovered by their landlords or estranged siblings or a random jogger and their death was chalked up to a general evil in the world.

He took a bite of a scone as he thought about his latest tableau.  Doubtless they would be found quickly.  When a whole family suddenly stops returning calls or going to school or showing up for work, there was just too much of a web of connections for it to go unnoticed long.  Some cop (or bobby or whatever they called them over here) who was short on cash would leak the story to the rags and the locals would recoil in horror as they read about the family seated around their dining room table for tea, looking like they had bent their heads for prayer when it was really just because all their necks had been broken.  He took another bite of his scone.  Delicious.

He called himself Kibosh.  As in "to put the kibosh on".  To put an end to.  And that's what he did.  He brought things to an end.  The name amused him.  His colleagues thought him strange, they going in for more obvious fare like Bronson and Dead Bang and Death's Head.  It seemed like overkill to him (Overkill, that was another one, he remembered) and a bit of overcompensation on their part.  It certainly hadn't helped them when it was decided he was no longer useful.  Kibosh had put the kibosh on all of them, and now he was free to do as he pleased.

A young mother and her toddling son approached the bench to take the open seat next to him.  Kibosh tipped his hat and smiled.  The boy started crying and the mother picked him up to soothe him, backing away apologetically and, of course, appalled.

"Think nothing of it," he grinned, winking with his one good eye.

He took a bite of sandwich, but the meat was of an English bent and he thought of mad cows and decided he would stick with the scones and coffee.  He sighed almost lovingly as he drank some more and gazed at the house across the way, his latest masterpiece.

From the inside pocket of his suit jacket came the muffled strains of "Night on Bald Mountain."  Kibosh reached in and pulled out his iphone.  The name on the screen said Twitter.  Twitter always brought good news.

"What have you got for me, chum?" he smiled indulgently.

"Amber Kind."

The smile on his lips faded to a thin line.  "Go on."

"Someone Googled it tonight, as well as 'Kind Groceries'.  IP address belongs to a Manuel Ramirez."

Kibosh frowned.  "The baseball player?"

"Kinda doubt it.  Unless he's living in Las Cruces, New Mexico.  Anyway, you told me to let you know so I'm letting you know."  Twitter disconnected without so much as a good-bye.

"Interesting," Kibosh murmured, a smile back on his devastated face.  "Very interesting."

Kibosh continued his repast as another train arrived, disgorging passengers and swallowing up more.  He did not move.  He was in no rush, and he wanted to bask in the house's afterglow for as long as he could.  London and Heathrow were only a half an hour away; he may just sit here all night.

Amber Kind.

Kibosh chuckled and shook his head.  Amber Kind. 

A song from his childhood days drifted into his head and he hummed it and then began to sing softly.

"Yeah, I couldn't wait to get back to the States, back to the cutest girls in the world. . ."

The trip to work was silent except for Jay-Z booming out of the speakers in Manny's trunk.  Manny swung his 2009 black and silver Mustang into the parking lot of Rapido Delivery and screeched to a halt outside the loading docks where a dozen delivery trucks were already backed in, sprouting from the back of the warehouse like the metal petals of an ugly concrete flower.  Manny turned off the ignition and got out of the car, Seth following suit.   Manny adjusted his tie and strode toward the rear entrance, as if Seth didn't exist.

"Manny, hold up."

Manny stopped, his hand on the door handle.  Seth walked slowly up to him, embarrassed.  Manny's face was unreadable, neutral, a foreign look to his usually exuberant face.

"Look, Manny, I'm sorry about before. . .I've just had a lot on my mind today, and. . ."

Manny's expression softened into a relaxed grin.

"Don't sweat it, bro.  I could see somethin' was up.  I shoulda just dropped it."

Seth held out a hand.  "So we cool?"

Manny grasped it, pulling Seth in for a quick chest bump and thump on the back.  "We're cool, bro."  He opened the door and headed to the back of the docks, throwing over his shoulder, "But you've got sorting duty tonight for being an asshole."

"Shit," Seth said.  He hated sorting.  And Manny knew it.  But he supposed he deserved it.

When Seth walked in, Manny was already making the rounds, checking in with the crew, joking, shooting the shit.  Besides the drivers lounging around in their Rapido Delivery uniforms, the dockworkers all wore a variation of Seth's clothes:  faded and/or torn t-shirt, blue jeans, work boots, leather gloves, and black work back braces.  It looked like everybody was here.  There was Black Jack (who was the blackest man Seth had ever met with ebon skin so dark it was almost purple); White Larry (Jack's exact opposite with skin that was nearly translucent); Big Juan, Little Juan, and Regular Juan; Crazy Eddie (ironically named since he was the most boring, sedate man on the planet); Crazy Tino (not ironically named); Miguel the Machine; Token Chick (real name Maria Carreras).  Plus several other guys who were too new to warrant having names, much less nicknames.  And, unfortunately, Leo.

Seth (who was known as Box Top due to an unfortunate incident his first week of work involving a poorly stacked pallet) could tell right away that the mood in the warehouse was tense, which usually meant Leo.  The rest of the guys, who usually welcomed Manny's casual glad-handing, could barely break a smile tonight.  Leo must really be getting on people's nerves.  And the shift hadn't even begun.

Leo (who had no nickname because the one time he'd been tagged with one, Little Leo, he'd gone completely apeshit), was frenetically striding around the warehouse, showing off his new iphone to whoever would listen.  Which was no one.  Leo was 5'1″, with a red buzz cut, and so many freckles on his face and arms that he might as well be orange.  He had bugged grey eyes and couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds.  He was an ugly man with a personality to match.  His temper was shorter than he was, and while everyone had grown accustomed to his constant complaints about work, his girlfriend, and the Democrats (particularly that Muslim terrorist president), nights like these were always a powder keg.  He was smiling, which meant he was happy, which meant he was wound up, which meant he was apt to go off at any minute.

And now Seth was in his sights.

"Box Top!  Box Top!  Look at this!"  Leo gestured Seth over to him with an impatient wave of his arm.

Seth strolled over to Leo, resigned.  Leo already had his head bent back down, admiring his new toy.

"Whatcha got there, Leo?" Seth asked politely.

"This's one of those new 'smart phones'," Leo said smugly.  He had a way of making everything sound as if he'd just discovered it and was blessing you with the knowledge.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah.  Look at this."  Leo was using his finger to navigate around the phone's screen.  "It's the best one they got.  I told 'em to give me the best one."

"Cool, cool."  Seth kept his voice level.  Any deviation, whether it was excitement or disinterest or amusement could set the little man off.

"Here, look at this!"  Leo had opened a file of photos and was now flipping through them so fast Seth could barely tell what he was seeing.  "My cousin's in Australia on vacation.  Fuckin' lucky bastard, right?  He sent me these pictures on his Facebook."

Seth could make out a few pictures of a man in what looked to be his late twenties with a buzz cut and a balding forehead as he snorkeled and hiked and drank some beers in a bar.  If he was related to Leo, luckily for his cousin there was no family resemblance.  Leo finally stopped flipping through the pictures, stopping at one of his cousin squatting and petting what looked like a baby kangaroo.

"Look at that!  Crazy, huh?  My cousin says it's a wallaroo."

Just then, Tino passed by, looking over Seth and Leo's shoulder, bored.

"That's a wallaby, you dumb shit."

Leo glared up at Tino, who returned his glare with bored indifference.  Seth shifted himself back and away from the two.

"Fuck you, Tino.  My cousin says it's a wallaroo.  It said so on his Facebook page."

"Then your cousin's a fuckin' idiot.  It's a fuckin' wallaby."

Leo's face was turning red.  His voice rose with every word.  "Take that back, Tino.  Take back what you said about my cousin."

Tino shook his head mockingly.  "Pfft.  I can't help it he's a fuckin' idiot, Leo.  Guy's related ta you, ain't he?  I got the National Geographic channel, and your boy is gettin' ready to fuck a wallaby."

Leo slammed a hand into Tino's chest.  Tino barely moved, but his attitude was no longer bored.  "Fuck you, Tino!"

"Fuck me?  Fuck YOU!"  Tino grabbed the iphone out of Leo's hand.  Leo goggled at him with his misshapen eyes.  "And fuck this phone!"

Tino raised his hand above his head and threw it at the concrete floor as hard as he could.  Whether they'd given him the best one or not was debatable, but no phone was made for this, and the iphone shattered, pieces of it spraying in all directions.

For a moment, time stood still.  Seth could see Manny across the warehouse floor, wincing as if he himself had been that phone.  And then all hell broke loose.  Faster than Seth could see, Leo had whipped a box cutter out of his back pocket and had slashed Tino across his upper arm.  Tino jumped back, emitting a high-pitched squeal that didn't match his big lumbering frame.  His free hand immediately clamped down over the cut, and blood welled up through his fingers.

"I'll fuckin' kill you!"  Leo was slashing at Tino, face contorted in rage, as Tino hopped back, his face turning chalky in shock.

Manny was running toward the scene, followed by others in the work crew.  "Leo!  Tino!  Knock that shit off!" Manny shouted.

"He broke my fuckin' phone!  He broke my FUCKIN' PHONE!"  Leo was beyond reasoning.

But he'd forgotten about Seth.  And he did weigh no more than 100 pounds.  With one quick movement, Seth grabbed Leo's wrist from behind and twisted hard.  With a yelp of pain, Leo dropped the bloodied box cutter and it clattered to the floor.  Seth swung him around so he was facing him and with one leg swept Leo's feet from under him.  Leo dropped to his ass, and then he was face down on the floor as Black Jack came up behind him and pinned him to the ground with one heavy boot.

"Let me up!  Let me up!" he screamed.

"Shut the fuck up," Manny said distractedly.  Leo was all but forgotten already, and he was examining the cut on Tino's arm.  Tino had regained some of his composure, but it was clear he was not accustomed to seeing this much blood, especially this much blood escaping from his own body.  "Somebody get me a towel!"

Little Juan was to the break room and back in a matter of seconds.  As Manny got Tino to remove his hand, more blood spattered to the ground.  Manny hissed and Tino whimpered and Little Juan pressed the towel against Tino's wound.

"That's gonna need stitches, Tino," Manny patted Tino on the shoulder not attached to the bleeding arm.  Tino nodded, eyes wide.

Manny walked over to where Leo was still squirming under Jack's work boot.  He bent over, hands braced on his legs, and addressed Leo.  "If we let you up, you going to behave?"

"He broke my phone!"

Manny straightened and looked at Jack, nodding slightly.  Jack nodded back, and pressed down harder with his boot.  Leo's eyes bulged and he gasped.

"I can't fuckin' breathe!"

Manny bent back down.  "You gonna behave?"

"My phone. . ."  Leo coughed, gasping for breath.

Manny rolled his eyes.  "Tino's gonna pay for your phone.  And you're gonna pay for Tino's hospital bill, and I gotta feelin' you're gonna lose out on the deal.  Except that Tino ain't gonna press charges, so maybe not.  He's gonna tell 'em at the ER that he got his arm snagged on one of the conveyers.  Ain't that right, Tino?"  Manny looked back at Tino, and Tino gave a quick nod of the head.  "So you gonna behave or what?"

Leo was quiet.  Jack stepped down just a little harder.  Leo let out another gasp.

"Yeah, yeah, YEAH!"

Manny nodded and Jack took his foot off Leo.  Leo staggered to his feet, then doubled over coughing.

"You guys could'a killed me!"

But everyone had already forgotten about Leo and were watching as Manny and Tino headed toward the back door, Manny's hand patting Tino on the back.  He was talking to Eddie, who was nodding vigorously, the most energy Seth had ever seen Eddie exude.   Eddie had volunteered to take Tino to the hospital, and Manny gave them both instructions on what they were to say when they got there.

Seth looked back at Leo.  He shook his head disgustedly.  Leo glared back at him, face again turning read.

"Fuck you lookin' at, Gay-Lispy?" he sneered.

Without a word, Seth took two steps forward and punched Leo in the face with a short jab.  Leo's eyes widened and his hands shot up to cup his nose, which was already starting to gush blood.

Seth tilted his head, questioning.  "You got somethin' to say, Leo?"

Leo looked at him in disbelief.  "You broke my nose!  You broke my nose, you asshole!"  His hands balled up in fists, bloody nose forgotten, and he lunged forward at Seth.  And dropped like a bag of sticks as Seth laid him out with a lightning-fast sock to the jaw.  There was a muffled thud as Leo's head bounced off the floor and he was still, moaning and eyes fluttering.

Manny turned around with the rest of the work crew.  His shoulders slumped and he sighed, shaking his head.

"You got room for another one, Eddie?"

He was able to keep Amber and New York at bay for the rest of the day thanks to the help of Judge Judy, Dr. Phil, and the rest of the charlatans who made daytime TV their lair.  Another quick run in the afternoon, a quick shower with the CD player banging out some old Metallica to drown out his thoughts, and it was time to head over to Manny's and get a ride to work.  He gave Dudley another meal of ground beef and egg, and then they were both out the door, Seth to work and Dudley to whatever it was he did during the night.

Manny lived about a mile north where Tornillo intersected with Mulberry, a quick fifteen-minute walk.  His house was a pink adobe split-level with a front gate.  Nothing fancy, but pretty upscale for this part of town.  Seth knocked on the front door.  The thumping bass coming from inside made the windows facing the street slightly rattle, but however he did it, Manny could hear Seth's knock over all that teeth-jarring noise.  He opened the door, wearing nothing but a towel, hair still dripping wet.

"Amigo!" Manny grinned, dazzling white teeth in a handsome, tan face.  He stuck out his hand and pulled Seth in for a "man-shake", the new millenium version of the handshake:  a grasp of the hand, a slight chest bump, and a quick thump on the back.  Manny was almost a foot shorter than Seth, so this was always awkward, at least for Seth, since no matter when he got to Manny's, Manny was always just getting out of the shower.  Manny Ramirez was not a modest man.  Not that he had to be; the guy had muscles upon muscles.  Seth was no slouch himself when it came to physical fitness, but he had nothing on Manny.

"You mind if I use your internet while you get dressed?" Seth shouted over the bass.

"Que?" Manny cupped a hand to his ear.  "Oh, sorry. . ."

He trotted over to a stereo system with speakers bigger than Seth's bathroom and turned the music down to an almost tolerable level, then looked back at Seth.  "What was that?"

"Can I use your internet?"

"'Course, bro," Manny gestured to the Mac set up on the island separating the kitchen from the living room.  "No porn, though, we ain't got time."

Seth smiled and took a seat at the computer.  "Thanks."

Manny headed to the back of the house toward his bedroom, then skidded to a stop.

"Oh, wait, man, you've got to check this out!  Hey, Harvey!"

From the bedroom, Seth heard a small meow, and then a big gray and white cat came bounding into the room, looking at Manny expectantly.

"Check this shit." Manny's grin was even wider.  "Harvey, get my clothes ready."

The cat hesitated for a second, then ran to an ironing board set up in the hallway next to the living room, jumping onto the stool sitting next to it.  He got up on his hind legs, braced one front paw on the ironing board and rubbed his other front paw back and forth on the iron lying there.  Damned if it didn't look like he was doing Manny's ironing.

Manny roared with laughter and tossed a small cat treat to the feline performer.  Seth just shook his head.

"That cat ain't normal," Seth said as he opened up a browser window on the computer.

"That's right, man, that cat is AWESOME!" Manny whooped, scratching Harvey under the chin.

Seth had to admit that was true.  He'd known Manny and Harvey since he'd moved to Las Cruces, and he was continually amazed at the tricks Manny taught him.  Dudley could learn a thing or two.

Manny disappeared into his bedroom, and Seth began his Googling, scratching absent-mindedly at Harvey's ears as the cat rubbed against his legs.

First search:  Amber Kind

There was nothing.  Plenty of Amber Kings and Ambers and websites with the word kind, but nothing linking the two together.

Second search:  Kind Groceries New York City

That was still there at least, at the corner of Grand and Eldridge.  Seth took a sheet of paper from a notepad next to the computer and jotted down the number, slipping it into the pocket of his jeans.  He closed the browser as Manny came back into the room, wearing a pair of khakis and toweling off his hair.

"So is today the day, my friend?" he asked, an amused smirk on his face.

Seth rolled his eyes.  "Do we have to do this every day?"

"As long as you're bummin' rides off me, then yes.  Soon as you get your own car, I'll shut up.  So. . .whattaya say?"

Seth grimaced.  "Manny, I'm not in the mood. . ."

Manny draped the towel over his neck and crossed his arms.

"And I'm not in the mood to be 3rd shift supervisor anymore, either.  Come on, man, you're the best worker there!  Never missed a shift, never late. . .mostly thanks to me, true. . .never bitch or complain or get into shit with the other guys.  It's time to start thinking advancement, mi amigo."

Seth sighed.  "I'm not interested."

Manny scowled, not a facial expression normal for him.  "Jesus, man, you want to be unloading trucks your whole life?  The only way I get this manager position is if I can find somebody to replace me, and no way would I have any of those other retards taking on a supervisor position.  You imagine Tino as a SUPERVISOR?  Shit."

"Not interested."

"Well, goddammit, GET interested.  Think about somebody other than yourself, you know?  If it's not you, it's gonna be some numbnuts off the street, and you know that never works."

"Fuckin' DROP IT already!" Seth shouted.

There was an extended silence.  Even Harvey looked taken aback by the outburst.  Seth opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could say anything, Manny turned and headed back to his room to finish getting dressed.

"Whatever, man," he muttered.

Seth stood next to the computer, chagrined.

"Shit," he said.

He must have fallen back asleep, because now the sun was shining directly on his face, and Dudley was stoically and methodically scratching at the front door to go outside.  Seth groaned, standing up slowly and gingerly.  He'd fallen asleep sitting up, his head tilted back on the couch, and now his neck was thoroughly pissed at him.

scritch scritch

Dudley looked back over his shoulder at Seth.  Seth shuddered.  The sound of Dudley's nails on the door for some reason reminded him of his dream from last night, but he didn't remember why.  He did remember, however, that he'd tried to call Amber, and already his brain was gearing up for another round of "let's remember every bad thing that's ever happened to you".  Which meant it was time for a run.

scritch scritch

"Dammit, Dudley, hold on!" Seth grumbled as he found a pair of sweat pants hanging on the doorknob to the bathroom.  Dudley watched him, indifferent.  Theirs was a marriage of convenience.  Their relationship was less owner and master and more two roommates who occasionally tolerated each other.  To Seth, Dudley looked like those pictures he'd seen on the news of the supposed chupacabra, which basically looked like an emaciated generic dog with mange, which was basically what Dudley was, sans mange (currently sans mange, rather, since Dudley had been infested with more than a few different kinds of parasites, bugs, and other whatsits when he and Seth first met).  To Dudley, Seth imagined he just looked like a giant rube.

Seth had found Dudley (or vice versa) shortly after he moved to Las Cruces over 3 years ago.  With the little bit of money he'd saved up, he'd bought this house against the realtor's better judgement, and Dudley had shown up not long after.  Dudley had actually been living in his neighborhood much longer than Seth had, living off the trash on the street (and there was plenty of that).   Seth had begun to leave out some dog food every day, and eventually Dudley decided Seth would be all right to co-habitate with.

Seth shrugged on a stained wife-beater and opened the door.  Dudley bounded out to do his business and Seth began to run.  Dudley might follow him or might off on his own, but they'd eventually meet back up at the house.  It was still early, only about 8 at the latest, so the sun hadn't reached its full brutality.  Seth ran for an hour, up and down the mostly-deserted streets of his neighborhood, focusing on his breathing and his heartbeat.  Running had been what saved him from drinking himself to death after New York, and running was keeping him from thinking about it now.

But he couldn't run forever.  He arrived back at the house, dripping sweat and huffing like a train engine.  He stripped off his shirt as he walked exhausted through the dead grass of the front lawn and up the single concrete step to the door.  Dudley was there waiting.

"Hope you weren't waiting long, master," Seth said wryly as he opened the door.  Dudley deigned not to respond and trotted in ahead of him, tail wagging.  Of course he'd been waiting, because he hadn't had his breakfast.  He may have lived on the streets for who knows how long, but he'd adjusted to the good life (such as it was) fairly quickly.  Seth went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and got out a carton of eggs and a pack of cheap ground beef.  He fashioned a small patty from the beef and dropped it into a heavily chewed plastic dog dish on the counter, cracked an egg into it, and dropped the shell in.  Dudley sat in front of him, watching intently, quivering slightly.  As soon as Seth set the bowl on the ground, Dudley dove in.  Unlike most dogs, though, Dudley didn't swallow this feast whole, but took dainty bites, as if savoring every last morsel.  It cracked Seth up to watch it every time.

Seth threw a couple slices of bread in the dented metal toaster that had come with the house and was miraculously still working, threw a pan on the gas stove, and started heating it up for his own breakfast of toast and eggs.  This little daily routine had distracted him briefly, but now he had some time to think, the last thing he wanted.   The morning run had given a brief reprieve, but now his mind was racing as if to catch him up on all that he'd been running from.  He hated these manic, stream-of-conscious episodes.  They were fairly infrequent these days, but when they hit, he was literally lost in his own head as his thoughts jumped from memory to memory.

He was relieved to find that he wasn't obsessing over Amber and New York just yet, though it was sure to hit shortly.  Instead, watching Dudley eat his morning meal had reminded him of an incident that happened much earlier in his life, an episode that had been indelibly marked in his mind and would rear its ugly head every time he went grocery shopping or stopped at McDonald's for a cheeseburger.

When he was eight years old, his dad had flown out to Des Moines for some big family reunion.  Both he and his mother had been secretly relieved that they couldn't afford to fly out with him, but Seth was chagrined when his father came back and told them he'd had a great time and had had a great conversation with a cousin he hadn't seen in years who happened to live on a farm outside of Des Moines and that they'd both agreed it would be great if Seth came out for the summer to see what life out in the country was really like.  His mother, traitor that she was, whole-heartedly agreed (he had a feeling that she wouldn't have been so enthusiastic had the trip involved her as well).

So that fall, Seth rode on his first airplane from New Jersey to Iowa, where he met his dad's cousin John, his wife Betty, and their thirteen-year-old son Caleb.  John and Betty were nice enough, if a bit distant, and more focused on the farmwork and housework than on showing him a good time.  But Caleb was another story.

Caleb was a tall, skinny gangle of a kid with an ugly rash of acne on his forehead and a permanent sneer on his face.  From the moment he called him "city boy" upon his arrival at the airport, Seth disliked him.  He was the kind of kid who punched you on the arm, "as a joke", but did it as hard as he could to try to get a reaction.  And god help you if you let on that it actually hurt.

If it weren't for Caleb, Seth might have actually enjoyed his visit.  He was amazed at how quiet it was out on the farm, and at night there were no lights to block out the stars.  He could actually see the Milky Way, and he was mesmerized at just how many stars there were.  He'd gone to the planetarium for a school trip, but that had nothing on the real thing.

John had Seth and Caleb out of bed at the break of dawn every morning to help him do chores, feeding cows and chickens and pigs.  Caleb had warned him that "You're gonna have to actually do some work now, city boy" with that sneering smile, but Seth was no stranger to work, already having to get up early for two paper routes (which his dad was currently grumblingly filling in on during his absence), and he enjoyed the labor.  John and Betty, who had clearly been biased about this kid from New Jersey who probably hadn't worked a day in his whole life, were quietly impressed.  But as Seth did his chores happily and competently, it only seemed to make Caleb that much meaner.  It didn't help that John was starting to point out to Caleb what a "good little worker" Seth was turning out to be.

If Caleb had just been mean to Seth, he would have passed his few weeks there just fine.  Bullies didn't bother him, and Caleb was more harmless than most.  But what he couldn't abide was how Caleb treated the animals on the farm.  He threw rocks at the cattle, kicked at the chickens, and threatened to beat the farm's resident dog, a scrawny blue heeler named Tick, if he so much as looked Caleb's way.  Since he was a guest, Seth tried to hold his tongue.  He scratched Tick behind the ears (Tick adored Seth; it was the most attention he'd probably ever received, at least of the positive variety) and basically followed Caleb around apologizing to the pigs and cows and chicks after the teenager blew through.

He'd only had one real conversation with Caleb.  It was afternoon and John had had to drive to town to get a part for the tractor, leaving the two boys to their own devices.  Seth was looking into the cow paddock, arms resting along the wooden slats of the fence, Tick panting adoringly at his feet.  He was watching a black Angus cow and her calf, their hindquarters caked with mud and shit, as they lazily chewed on the hay he'd just fed them.  Seth smiled.  For a moment, he could actually picture himself living on a farm.  And then Caleb sidled up next to him.

"What are you lookin' at, city boy?" he sneered.

Seth ignored him, his smile gone.  Tick whined.

"You in love with those cows or somethin', weirdo?"

"I was just lookin' at 'em.  They're cute."

"Cute?!?!"  Caleb guffawed, rolling his eyes.  "They're cows!  They're stupid and they're a pain in the ass.  Cute. . ."  he shook his head, disbelieving.

"Do they have names?"  Seth had been meaning to ask John.  He didn't know why he was asking Caleb now, and he instantly regretted it.

Caleb goggled at him, disbelieving.  "Names?!?  Are you shitting me?  They're going to be hamburgers and steaks, you idiot.  Why the hell would we name them?"

Seth's stomach dropped.  He hadn't really thought about it, but it's not like he didn't know that hamburgers came from cows.  It had just never dawned on him that it might be THESE cows.  To his horror, his eyes welled up.

"Are you CRYING?!?!" Caleb was gleeful.  "Jesus H.!  You're CRYING!"

Caleb was howling with laughter.  Seth wiped at his eyes, his face burning.

"Shut up," he muttered, and walked away, Tick following close at heel.

That night, they all sat down to a big meal of mashed potatoes and cooked carrots and pot roast.  Caleb, Betty, and John ate with gusto.  Seth took a few bites of his mashed potatoes, but the slice of pot roast on his plate remained uneaten.

Betty looked at him, concerned.  "Are you feeling all right, Seth?  You've hardly touched your food."

"I'm fine," Seth mumbled, eyes down on his plate.

Caleb snorted, slurping from his glass of milk.  "He's sad because he doesn't want to eat his friend."

"Shut up," Seth mumbled.

John's eyes flashed.  "We don't use that kind of language here, Seth."

Seth mumbled an apology.  But Caleb saw it was a victory and took the advantage.  He speared another slice of pot roast from the serving tray and licked his lips.  "I think I'll name you Seth," he said to the juicy slice of meat.

Seth picked up the gravy boat from the middle of the table and chucked it at Caleb's head.

That little stunt had cost Caleb three stitches, a trip back to New Jersey for Seth, and one of only three sessions he'd ever had with his dad and his dad's belt.

Seth flipped the eggs onto the toast and took a bite out of the makeshift sandwich, chewing and smiling as Dudley sat watching, hoping against hope that Seth would spill something.

"Totally worth it," Seth grinned, his mouth full, a little bit of yolk on his upper lip.  "That guy was a complete asshole."