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    Conversations at Night
    Conversations at Night
    Conversations at Night
    Ebook148 pages1 hour

    Conversations at Night

    By George W. Parker

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Part 1 - (1965-1974) Drugs, Sex and Violence.
    "Danny was stoned, wired and bored. It was nearly midnight. He was fully dressed and standing in the middle of his room trying to decide what to do."

    Part 2 - (1972-1974) A man wants to be remembered.
    Fred shuffles his feet, kicking clothes out of his way and heads out through the dark trailer feeling his way along the hall, past the bathroom, the small bedroom, and into the the living room.

    Part 3 - (Before 1965) Profiles in Courage.
    The night was pitch black. No moon. No stars. The wind was so powerful I had trouble staying on my feet as I ran. But I ran. From dark place to darker place I kept moving, hoping for safety. If anyone was following me I couldn't see them and with all the wind noise I had no chance of hearing them. Just keep running I told myself.

    A three part look at Life, Art, and Civilization; Arkansas style.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGeorge W. Parker
    Release dateJan 17, 2013
    ISBN9781301196975
    Conversations at Night
    Author

    George W. Parker

    George W. Parker has published an intertextual cycle of American genre novels: Death; Juxtaposed, The Letters, The Krew, Conversations at Night, and Vanishing Trick. Additionally he has authored The Boy in the Box and The Law the second and third novels in the Marvin Davis PI series along with Choice Cut, a zombie/noir novel. He lives in Austin and is currently working on Chop Shop, a zombie/noir follow up novel to Choice Cut. You can purchase paperback editions at Amazon.

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      Book preview

      Conversations at Night - George W. Parker

      Chapter 1 - Danny

      Danny was stoned, wired and bored. It was nearly midnight. He was dressed and standing in the middle of his bedroom trying to decide what to do. The past three days he had spent partying with friends, balancing his drug intake to stretch his days out as long as possible. The friends had crashed so he had gone home to his Mom's and Dad’s place.

      He went to the window, pulled up the sash and climbed out into the cold Arkansas night. Outside he stood on a low rolling rise next to a gravel road. As far as he could see was farmland. In the distance there was an occasional farm house light. Danny climbed into his truck and headed to town.

      The truck bounced and slid its way along the gravel road toward the highway. Danny rolled and lit a joint as he steered.

      He stopped at the intersection where the gravel road hit the highway and took a deep drag off the joint. Arnold’s store was to the right, Fat’s service station was diagonal across the highway. He owned both the restaurant and laundry north of that. There were a few houses alongside the highway. Everything was closed, only a night-light here and there.

      Danny exhaled. He eased off the clutch and crossed over the highway to the laundry. He pulled up in front, and parked parallel to the glass front door.

      It was a twenty-four laundry. Its interior was lit by a pair of 48 inch florescent tubes.

      Fat had put in the laundry a few years earlier. It was a single coin operated washer and a coin-operated dryer. There was a formica-topped table for folding clothes and two white plastic chairs. It had paid for itself several times over.

      Danny stubbed out his joint and climbed out of the truck. He walked over to the door, pushed it open and walked in.

      He went over to the wash machine. Its lid was closed. He opened it and looked in. It was empty. He jiggled the coin slide and the coin drop box. Then he grabbed the lip of the tub and pulled the wash machine away from the wall. It was light and moved easily.

      Danny reached behind and unplugged the machine. He turned off the hot and cold water at the wall, unhooked the hoses and dropped them to the floor behind the machine. He walked back outside.

      He reached over the right truck fender into the truck bed and pulled up a tow chain.

      Damn, it’s cold. I should have brought some gloves.

      He carried the chain back inside the laundry.

      In front of the wash machine Danny dropped the chain to the floor, grabbed the lip of the tub again and slid the machine sideways so that there was plenty of space all around it. He picked up the chain, looped it up high around the machine and set the catch hook securely. He picked up the free end of the chain and stretched it out the door to the truck.

      Shit.

      He needed a little more length to tie the chain around the tow bar.

      Fuck.

      He dropped the chain, went back inside, grabbed the wash machine and pulled it three steps closer to the door. He was making a lot of noise but no one heard him yet.

      He latched the chain to the tow bar, got back in the truck and started up the engine. He eased off the clutch and took up the slack in the chain. He could hear the wash machine move along the floor inside.

      Danny floored the accelerator. The truck tires spun then took hold and the truck lurched forward accelerating.

      The wash machine jumped across the laundry floor. It hit the doorway and exploded the glass door and ripped the frame from the wall.

      The truck was in second gear when it hit the highway pavement heading north. The wash machine followed behind with shrieks and sparks. Lights came on all around town. Everyone heard him now.

      Danny and the wash machine were well up the road when he stopped. He jumped out of the truck and ran around to the wash machine. He jerked the chain off and tossed it into the truck bed. He jumped back in the cab, floored the gas and turned off the truck lights as he continued to head north. At County Line Road he turned left and headed west. He could not stop laughing.

      Chapter 2 - Darrell

      The school in Egypt, Arkansas had a split term. It let out during the spring for planting and in the fall for harvesting. It was summer and school was in.

      Darrell stood in the sunshine on the south side of the high school building. He was waiting for classes to resume after lunch. Tall and thin, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, he wore a long-sleeved blue chambray shirt buttoned up to the neck, blue jeans and black brogans. The shirtsleeves and pant legs were rolled up a couple of turns exposing the rib knitted ends of his long handles. The tops of his white socks were rolled down exposing an inch gap of uncovered skin.

      Darrell was in the tenth grade. He was twenty years old. At some point the school administration decided to stop failing him. His advancing age was created some difficulties.

      A couple of his younger classmates came over. They were dressed for the summer weather in jeans and short-sleeved shirts.

      Hey Darrell, watch yuh doing? one of the boys asked.

      Ah, ah, ah, Darrell stammered, his voice much deeper than the younger boy’s, yuh need to leave me alone. He did not make eye contact as he talked.

      Why Darrell? We ain’t doin’ nothin’ to yuh, the other boy explained.

      Yuh need to leave me alone, Darrel repeated shifting his weight from foot to foot a little faster than before.

      Hell Darrell, we just wanted to ask if yuh got a look at Mrs. Cook this morning?

      Yea, those big ol’ knockers of hers really look good today." Both boys laughed nervously at the thought of their teacher’s breasts.

      No, no, no, Darrell shook his head nervously, looking for a wait to escape the questioning. Yuh need to leave me alone.

      From behind the two boys Darrell's younger brother trotted up silently and gave them a big shove, almost knocking them off their feet.

      What are yuh doin’ to Darrell? Raymond demanded.

      Raymond was shorter and stockier than Darrell and in the eleventh grade although three years younger. He was dressed similar to Darrell but without the long handles.

      What are yuh’ doin’?

      Hell Raymond, we ain’t doing nothin’, just talkin’.

      Then get the hell the out'a here! Raymond ordered.

      The boys hustled out of the area.

      Darrell, yuh okay? Raymond asked.

      Ah, ah, fine, yeah, fine, Darrell nodded.

      Okay, good, Raymond smiled. I’ll see yuh on the bus later.

      Yeah, yeah, on the bus, later, Darrell answered.

      Chapter 3 - Jerry

      The county jail was old but serviceable. It was clean, the inmates kept it that way. The trustees made sure the inmates of it. Jerry was one of the trustees. Everyone knew him.

      Jerry was serving six months time over some bad checks. Serving time was easier than driving tractor or picking cotton. Jerry had done a lot of farm work in 27 years and didn’t like it. He had been in jail a few times too. Jail work was usually easier.

      Grider! a deputy called from the front of the jail.

      Jerry stepped into the hall from his cell. Yes sir! he called back.

      Boss needs you. Get up here!

      Yes sir, Jerry called hustling up to the office.

      The deputy sat behind a desk. He tossed a set of car keys to Jerry.

      Boss needs his yard mowed. Get one of the trucks and a mower over there and take care of it .

      Yes sir! Jerry grinned. I’ll take care of it.

      Hey! the deputy stopped Jerry. If the Sheriff’s wife is home you ask her if it’s okay. Boss doesn’t want you making a bunch of noise and bothering her.

      Yes sir! I won’t bother her sir. Jerry affirmed and headed out the door.

      It was a beautiful day outside. A great day to be alive. A great day to be a trustee. Jerry had been doing the Sheriff’s yard for six weeks now. He had been doing the Sheriff’s wife for five weeks. He hadn’t spoken to his own wife during the three months he had been in jail.

      Chapter 4 - Darrell

      Boy, get back here and fix some lunch! The shouting voice was thin and the words not spoken cleanly but they meant business.

      Ass hole, Raymond swore under his breath. But he

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