Short Story Wednesday Epitaph for a Hummer

 Sorry to use one of my own. I couldn't find one I liked today. This is from a long time ago, but some things never change. Just sub Tesla for Hummer, Trump for Bush and $5 for $4. 

Epitaph for a Hummer

By Patricia Abbott

Jerry, my boyfriend, he loves to steal cars. Loves to see how quick he can make an engine roar to life using the tangle of wires, switches and pins he carries around on an old dog collar. Does most cars in ninety seconds flat, his favorite being those big-assed Hummers, a model I don’t particularly care for. Me, I’m short. Hoisting onto that seat’s a bitch.

Finding a Hummer in our neighborhood is rare and nearly impossible for Jerry to pass up. Says he only feels alive when he’s behind the wheel of a luxury car and especially one with some muscle. He never parades it at the car show behind the crank factory, never strips it for parts, never crashes it for kicks. He just keeps it for an hour or two then parks it in a safe place. He’s got a code, my Jerry does.

Jerry likes me to come along for the ride, says it’s more fun when someone sits shotgun. So most Friday nights, we find a god-damned (his words) Hummer and ride around till it’s time to go home. He likes to hit the toney neighborhoods over in Shelterville first, then head out to the country. You never lived till you did a hundred in a Hummer on a deserted blacktop.

But with gas prices rising, our plans had to change. Cost $85 last time we gassed one. Sometimes we’d hop in and find the gauge on full, but less and less since Bush got bogged down with the war and neglected his domestic duties. Last Hummer we took was only running on the recollection of fuel. It’s not worth the trouble if the owners won’t leave us a little gas. And Jerry says, he’ll be doing the death polka before he puts his dime into someone else’s Hummer.

I tried to talk Jerry into stealing an economy car. First time I said it, he told me it wasn’t hardly worth risking jail for a ride in a Cobalt or a Civic: there was no joy for him in taking such a vehicle. But when prices hit $4.00 a gallon, he gave in and we 211’d a Yaris—a car we’d never even heard of, Jerry shaking his head as the car sputtered to life like a sick pup in a litter. You could tell it was a family car right off from the infant seat in back.

“Bad luck,” he hissed as we coasted down the street. “Bad luck to mess with babies.”

It was too dark to see good, but no baby was sleeping in that seat. Not unless his parents had him stuck headfirst in that old brown bag, like a candle at an Italian restaurant.

“What is back there, Babe,” Jerry asked, pulling out onto the highway and sneaking a look in the mirror. It was clear somethin’ was pudging out that seat. I reached back and felt around.

“Feels like money,” I told him. “Money in some kinda sacks.” I could smell burlap and wasn’t sure it hadn’t carried manure in its heyday.

“Money?” Jerry repeated, his voice full of wonder. The Hummers we normally grabbed didn’t even carry an old umbrella or a box of Kleenex. Those Hummer people like to keep ‘em clean. I dug inside and pulled out a bundle while Jerry switched on the overhead. Fifties, twenties, and a goodly amount of ‘em in every rubber-banded stack. I won’t even tell you what Jerry did with that first lot.

We ditched that Yaris pretty quick. The owners wasn’t gonna forget about it for long, but they probably wouldn’t call the cops either. Jerry and I had ‘em between a rock and another rock. We took the bags to Jerry’s garage and fanned ‘em out. More dead presidents than we could rightly count. You lose your place after a while with stacks that big.

“What the hell,” Jerry said. “I sure never thought an economy car would bring me good luck.

“What I tell you,” I reminded him.

Next day, we went to a showroom over in Shelterville and got ourselves a sweet deal ‘cause nobody’s buying Hummers nowadays. Dead black, it was.

“Might be the last one off the line,” the dealer said. Jerry practically burst with pride.

There’s enough left over to keep us in gas if those Sawdy bandits don’t raise the price again when Bush isn’t looking. Which he never is.

George Kelley 

Jerry House 

TracyK 

Monday, Monday

 

I saw the French movie, the Marching Band, which was terrific if it comes your way.  We are lucky to have the Detroit Institute of Arts showing foreign movies most weekends because we have no art houses anymore. 

Reading KIN and enjoying it. Today I am going to a play at Theater Nova, called Maestro. They always show new or unknown plays, which sometimes works out and sometimes doesn't. 

TV-I am trying to understand DARK MATTER. Also started PROFESSOR T on PBS, YOUTH on HBO and LANTERNS.

Lovely weather. How about your life?  

Short Story Wednesday; "Some Things You Never Forget" Gar Anthony Haywood from Damn Near Dead 2

 

I think it is much harder to discuss a crime short story than a literary one. So much in a short mystery hangs on the ending and you can spoil it by discussing it. In a lit short story, it's not often about the ending per se but more about character. 

In Haywood's nicely written story, a man is taking his wife out for their anniversary. They are in a memory care facility. It seems they had an unusual early marriage where they pulled off small robberies and the like without getting caught. He brings a knife to make the day more exciting (they don't allow guns) and hoping this will awaken memories of the past. 

That's about all I can say without ruining the story. 

Damn Near Dead 2 was edited by Bill Crider. There are many good stories in this collection.  

George Kelley 

Monday, Monday

 Boy, have we had a lot of rain. Mostly the misty sort but heavy at times. I went to a chamber music concert last night: a pianist, a cellist and a singer. They did Brahms Cello and Piano Concerto Number One and some modern pieces. The President of the Society said the Trump Administration had cut 70% of funding to the NEA. What a travesty.

Heard a lecture about the diplomacy that allowed the US to win the Revolutionary War. 

Watching SLOW HORSES, LANTERNS, TED LASSO, and HIGH POTENTIAL. Also the series SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE from 1972.  

Reading KIN by Tayari Jones and A GUARDIAN AND A THIEF, Maga Majumdar (That might not be spelled correctly)

Still going to PT to try and walk better.  

The quilt is one of my friend Rita's. She is making me a Christmas quilt.  

What are you doing?  

FFB: POISON, Ed McBain

 

?

 I read this in 1988 along with many other 87th Precinct stories. I liked the way different cops were highlight along with Steve Carella. In this one, many of the men involved in the femme fatale's past are being poisoned. One of the detectives falls for her.

SSW: Lost Child, Joyce Carol Oates (from the New Yorker)

 I wonder if JCO holds the record for the most stories in The New Yorker.

We get most of the early part of the story through the eyes of a three-year old who is traveling with her scary father. Oates does a great job on making him threatening in a way that seems real.

He tells her to get out of the elevator on the 8th floor. But he doesn't follow him and that's the last time she ever sees him. She stands there for an hour and them is rescued and eventually ends up with an aunt. Her mother has apparently died. 

She never learns much about the circumstance of the death or where her father went. She carries this burden for the rest of her life.
 

Monday, Monday

 After finishing JOHN OF JOHN, I decided to read Stuart's first book SHUGGIE BAIN. It's another long one, but so easy to get into.That's a real gift.

Saw the movie THE WORK IN PROGRESS, which puts millennials and baby boomers together and tries to get them to exchange ideas. I think the real trouble is more about class than age though. Also rewatched ALL THE JAZZ. What a delight.  I also enjoyed MY Brilliant Career. 

Watching NO EXIT on Apple. LANTERNS on HBO. LAST MEAL on Tubi. TED LASSO on Apples. 

I went to a lecture on American women from the Revolution on. Our senior center has a lecture every Thursday night by college professor and other ones in the daytime. And many other activities including bus trips, exercise, art classes, music, book groups. discussion groups, card groups, etc. All this for $60 a year.  I also went to hear folk music one night. 

I am going to PT for my balance issues. I think it is at least partly related to the drug I am taking for AFIB. 

What about you?  

 If you will notice, your blogs are not updating. Trying to fix it. 

FFB-SIDESWIPE, Charles Willeford

 SIDESWIPE, Charles Willeford 

Following MIAMI BLUES and NEW HOPE FOR THE DEAD, Miami homicide detective Hoke Moseley abandons his pregnant partner and housemate, Ellita Sanchez, and his two daughters to manage his father's apartment complex in Riviera Beach, Florida. 
When the book begins he cannot even get himself out of bed. 

Stanley Sinliewicz, a Ford retiree spending a night in jail, does a favor for a killer named Louden, which results in his release from jail. The two then embark on an odyssey which can only lead to disaster.
Hoke soon finds the simple life is easier to envision than envelop. Coping with a job offer from the local police, a string of local burglaries, and a daughter with an eating disorder puts him back on the path home. Playing the disinterested father can only go so far. 
Like others in the series, SIDESWIPE is packed with action and humor. Elmore Leonard says no one writes a better crime novel than Willeford. Who am I to argue with that? Walter Mosley claims he reads Willeford for a break for the monotony of endless grimness. There is a real art to telling a hard-boiled crime story with this much humor. 

SSW-"August Heat"by William F. Harvey

 https://americanliterature.com/author/w-f-harvey/short-story/august-heat

A man, looking for something to sketch, finds a man in a courtroom on trial for murder who is grossly overweight and sketches him.  Later he runs across the same man making a headstone. The headstone has the artist's name on it and today's date. The two men go inside to try and avoid both of their fates. A very short and subtle story about fate

Happy Labor Day

 

Detroit has always celebrated Labor Day probably more than most of the country because of the auto industry and the associated workers unions. There are marches and bridge crossings and a lot of people standing around with petitions of some sort.  Here are some of these year's activities.

 Top Labor Day Events

Detroit Jazz Festival: Held at Hart Plaza and Wayne State University, this is the world's largest free jazz festival, running through the final day on Monday with special performances like Coltrane 100. 
Arts, Beats & Eats: Located in downtown Royal Oak, this massive festival features over 200 musical acts, local art, and dozens of food vendors through Monday. 
Hamtramck Labor Day Festival: Features live music, carnival rides, a parade, and the traditional pseudo-canoeing/yacht race. 
Labor Day Union March: Traditional march stepping through Corktown on Monday morning, followed by community showcases. 
Michigan State Fair: Hosted in Novi at the Vibe Credit Union Showplace with carnival rides, agricultural exhibits, and monster trucks through Monday.

 Does Labor Day get as much attention where you are?  

FFB: BLACKBURN, Bradley Denton

 (from the archives-reviewed by Bill Crider)

Forgotten Books: Blackburn -- Bradley Denton

While I'm calling this a forgotten book, I doubt that anyone who's read it has forgotten it.  Can it really have been 20 years since it was published?  Wow, that's scary.  Seems like only a couple of weeks ago.

Jimmy Blackburn is a killer.  He kills only people who, in his judgment, deserve to die, like oil-change scam artists, crooked encyclopedia salesmen, people who kill dogs. He doesn't stay in one place very long, as you can imagine.  As he travels,  he occasionally manages to fit in somewhere, but not for long.  Somebody always needs to be killed.

Blackburn winds up where any killer might, and I won't go into that.  The circumstance of just how he gets there are complicated, and the ending even offers a hint that Blackburn might have found what he was looking for on his travels.  Some of Blackburn's early life is brought out in flashbacks to his childhood.  Denton's not saying the character's upbringing made him a killer.  He's just showing the casual cruelty and inhumanity that can be found anywhere, including a small town in Kansas.  Sometimes our end is our beginning, maybe.

Bradley Denton tells his story in straightforward prose, unadorned by any frills.  It's a very effective method.  Oh, and I should mention that as grim as the subject matter is, and as terrible some of the events are, parts of this book are hilarious.  You'll laugh even if you don't think you should.  Trust me.  

There are several other stories about Blackburn.  "Blackburn's Lady" is one of them.  You can read it here. "Blackburn Bakes Cookies" is another.  It's here.  And "Blackburn and the Blade" can be found here.  All are recommended.