The Epic Stoner Novel (A Journal of Life on the Mississippi)

Discussion in 'Writers Forum' started by Deleted member 42017, Jan 13, 2008.

  1. done
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 1, 2020
  2. done
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 1, 2020
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  3. A cool guy at the VA traded his work for some of the coke I had. He can use it to offer pain free work to those who could afford it. I guess doctors will never really change. So the parts for a steam engine were to be collected by myself and Nelson in Memphis and when we had what we needed we were to send him a note and he would bring up the rest of the stuff and his know how. He threw in a set of the drawings just in case he got hit by a bus or something. Of course the only way to hit a bus these days was to use your fist. Most any bus you see was a home now. A nice air conditioned bus ride back to Memphis would be great. But instead we made our way back in the truck using some home made fuel mixed with gas. The truck smokes real bad, but it runs pretty smooth.

    We made a stop for some meat in Tupelo. I was fortunate to trade for some wheat flour and a bottle of real gin. We waited till dark to finish the trip into Memphis to keep the meat as cool as possible. Ice was expensive but worth it for the 4 coolers of meat we carried back. I was glad to be back home at my Aunt's place and Nelson just about kissed me for finding real gin. My Aunt used the flour to make a batch of brownies which were quickly devoured. I couldn't remember my last brownie. It must have been one of those cheap ones in a package. Nothing compares to homemade. I found myself thinking about Asshole up in Ohio. I wondered how his married life was treating him. I pictured him totally wimped out by his wife and mother in law. I also pictured him back-handing them with a torrent of harsh words. Asshole had a short fuse.

    While I was gone there was another robbery on the street. It was an older couple who were known for hoarding all kinds of shit. Seems they took my advice and left a bunch of decoys around which were almost all taken while one of the dick heads kept them covered with a homemade gun. The old lady said these were the same guys she saw running out of my Aunt's store last time before I arrived in Memphis. I spoke with a friend of Nelson's who seemed to be the guy who took most of the stolen shit in on trade. I was pretty pissed about it and he said he didn't care where the shit came from. But he agreed to give up the assholes in a set up if he could have some of my coke and as long as he was out of the picture. I agreed but decided to set a trap of my own. Me and Nelson had built a barbecue pit a short ways from the house.

    We rigged the lid to dump a bunch of gas onto the flames below and create a good blast. We used mostly bones and fat for bait and started the show burning. It wasn't long after we went into the house that we heard an asshole in the back yard screaming. Man was he fucked up. The hair on his face was turned to carbon and ash. We threw some gray water on him and tied him up. My Aunt recognized him as did the old woman down the street. Nelson suggested we cut off his hand but he begged so Nelson gut punched him a couple of times and threw him into the back of the cricket/truck. We drove down to the Raleigh Springs Mall where all the other thieves were accustomed to hanging out at night. We threw the asshole out of the back and onto the asphalt. He was kicking and trying to yell past his gag. It was obvious he was trying to signal someone when Nelson pulled out his knife.

    He was holding it to the guy’s throat and more of the crowd started moving our way. Probably defending their own in the thief world of things. I didn’t care about that. Nelson was in psycho mode. I couldn’t control him. I said “No man” just in time to see Nelson shove the knife into the guy’s cheek. It would leave a nasty scar and the guy was obviously choking on his own blood. The crowd was stunned. Nelson said that any other son of a bitch gets caught breaking into a Raleigh home would receive the same treatment. What the fuck could I do at that point? I joined in by placing a price on the head of the other dick we were looking for. I imagined a wanted poster with a reward of a ham and a bottle of wine and a sack of corn meal. Nelson's friend The Fence was a little pissed by the demonstration but agreed to keep trading with us. Word got out pretty quick about what happened.

    Nelson told me the guy he cut had also beat up a girl he knew. He had no problem removing him from society. And that's just what he told the Marshall when he asked about the story. The Marshall thanked us and had us sign a statement and accepted some ham and corn bread from my Aunt. She always thought it was good to have lawmen on good terms. That is except lawyers. But there weren't too many of them around anymore. Nelson and I searched the whole of Memphis for steam engine shit. It was a total pain in the ass. But in the long run it was worth it. While trading in Frasier we managed to get two complete CB sets for one can of creamed corn. Other folks we knew had them lying around so we decided to organize our efforts into a kind of network around Memphis. It made trading much easier. The CB stuff takes much less power than the ham equipment others were using.

    After pouring a cement slab for the engine to mount on, we began to build the boiler house. We had all the bricks we could want just for the taking all over Memphis and mortar was pretty common as well. We finally had most of the stuff ready so I went ahead and sent the card back to Natural Bridge. Mail is a funny thing as you have to guarantee postage in the form of barter for something upon arrival. The stamp area might say a can of something or some cigarettes or whatever. The one going to Natural Bridge was for a chicken. I guess he really wanted my business. I went down to the main post office in Memphis where all the mailmen still work for trade. Of course they also own it since a union settlement a few years back. Who would have ever imagined it would not make it without Uncle Sam? But it went back into business some time back and is actually pretty reliable.

    One could also relay a message by paying to have it written on a vehicle which was bound to have to make stops in trade areas. Not too reliable, but it did work. I remember when me and Mr. Straight n" Narrow would stop and people would rush toward the truck looking for writing. He thought it was stupid and contemplated painting the words No Messages on this truck in bright paint to avoid all the people. It took 3 weeks for a reply. Thanks to a strike at the Holly Springs post office. But the guy was on his way.
     
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  4. The weather was getting cooler and my Aunt with the help of other ladies and girls from the neighborhood was busy preserving food for the winter months. Everywhere there are jars of every color. And the women were frantically pacing themselves. This meant a need for more firewood and sore backs for Nelson and me. We also ran the smoker night and day preserving the abundance of pork my Aunt traded for and any fish or other game. Beaver is really good. The whole critter tastes like a filet mignon. Nelson's weed grew OK, but the buds are real small. Since there is nearly an acre of it around the fences we will have more than enough to survive the winter.

    Nelson shot a raccoon one time near the fence. He thought it was eating our weed, but a squash vine was growing among the scoob. So we cooked him. Not too bad. Nelson's girlfriend did a kind of oriental thing with it. It was a good munchie chaser. I still prefer beef, but it's not as common. The only shame about the raccoon is that the others who kept our trash pile from overtaking us were scared away by the shot. Nelson is a crack marksman so he is trusted with the limited supply of bullets. I really suck with anything but my trusty 38. But I am down to about 30 shots so I carry it only when away from the house or out trading. Nelson has no doubt the coons will be back when it gets a little colder. For now we build a massive compost heap. The dude from Natural bridge arrived with a truck full of stuff. It looked like a machine shop on wheels. It smoked like hell so I guessed he was running that dirty coal oil or whatever it was that he helped us find.

    He was towing a trailer full of coal and his wife with their three loud as fuck hell hounds which looked just like the both of them and Satan. Man these kids were a handful. Thank god the neighbors wanted some meat bad enough to watch them at their pool for two days. We worked our asses off trying to get the engine together. Lots of measuring and adjusting. But once it was finished the whole thing moved as smooth as silk. We loaded the boiler house and lit the fire. It took forever for the needle to say we had enough steam to run the show. We opened the valve and Nelson started turning the flywheel. He almost pulled out his shoulder but he kept it turning till we were able to open the valve more than half way. The wheel started turning on its own so quickly that Nelson nearly busted his ass on the cement. It was beautiful. I laughed my ass off as he picked his bent ****** frame off the ground in obvious but not serious pain. It just started running and kept on going. We let it heat up then we poured on the steam.

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    We recorded the settings and measured the top speed and checked oil consumption and all kinds of other shit that reminded me of the Navy. We stopped the steam while we hooked up the generator. The pressure relief valve scared the living shit out of all of us. We used a length of tubing from it which made an earsplitting shriek. We quickly fixed that problem when the engine was restarted. It took only a slight push to get the wheel turning. The lamp came on almost immediately letting us know the power was coming. We switched on the house and turned some shit on. I even ran the blender with water in it just to watch it do its thing. I guess I was pretty stoned.

    Power is a good thing. Nelson brought out his Gibson and plugged his amp in for the first time in years. He said the gasoline generators put a nasty whine into his tunes which made him even more blue than normal. After a night of very loud partying we made our first payment for getting our power station up and running. They will be eating our smoked meat in Natural bridge for some time to come. We also made a deal for fuel which is where this guy really makes his dough so we plan to look into other sources of heat. Not that I have any problem dealing with this dude, but he can be rubbed out one way or another. And fuel was going to become very important as winter approached. We would have to rely on the railroad system for coal from Alabama or Kentucky and the trains were very few these days.

    A few restored steam trains are working regular routes, but trade is expensive with them. Food would be the least of our concerns for the cold weather thank god. I placed a couple of bulletin board ads for fuel. I offered food in trade and was swamped with requests. People have a funny way to think of things as fuel. I traded for a truckload of corn cobs which burn great in the wood stove and the boiler could use them too. I really hit the jackpot when a guy traded his tank full of gas from an old Caddy for some canned tomatoes and deer meat sausage. I now had enough to power the bike Nelson swapped for a hog and a few bags of weed. I also traded for a nice sawed-off shotgun. Nelson put me in touch with it as he thought it to be more useful to me than my pistol. I even have a place on the front of the bike for it. My aunt converted some luggage to work as saddle bags on the back and I started to make plans for some trading and traveling. We needed some things to make winter a little more bearable. We really needed some more plastic sheeting to cover the windows and some insulation for the back room where Nelson stayed.

    I really liked riding the bike so much I drove into Memphis to celebrate. Soon after crossing the parkway I had to make a trip to the VA for some stitches. I caught the back end of a horse whip from its owner. Seems I have a few things to learn about driving around horses pulling wagons. I scared the shit out of the horse and the fat red-neck driver caught up to me and gave me a face full of whip handle. I was in too much pain to argue about it. I got back on the bike and went for a sew job. The Doc was cool about it and laughed when I described the guy who whacked my skull. It seems he was one of the Doc's in-laws who kept the hospital in alcohol and sheets. It's a small world. Doc told me about a textile mill outside of Jackson that was making cotton fabric which he really needed for bandages.

    The sheets were kind of a wasteful way to stop bleeding. I told him that he would need something tangible for me to trade with as medical promises were little more than verbal insurance and too many people were burned by insurance companies in the years before the collapse. Lots of lawyers and bankers caught bullets when it finally came. Doc and I walked through the dimly lit halls of the hospital toking a big one and talking about this and that when he led me to a room in the basement. When he opened the second door I was nearly knocked over by the smell. Seems the Doc has a taste for veal and chicken since that's what he is raising in the basement of the hospital. It was a large room that used to be an animal research center. To some degree the Doc has his shit together. I also got to see a really cool hydroponic garden where the hospital had a bowling alley.

    Among the beans and herbs he was also growing weed. It was really strong smelling with long reddish-purple hairs and just dripping with resin. Doc gave me a huge bud to sample and some honey made by the bees that were everywhere in the room. We then walked to the courtyard garden which was showing the signs of the cooler weather. Doc had tons of squash and potatoes ready to pick. I told him the bandages were on the way. We talked for a while and he told me about how he planned to line the entire courtyard with aluminum foil and set some reflectors up on the roof to keep sunlight on each wall. It seemed like a workable plan. I went home with a nice veal roast and some potatoes. I made plans to head for Jackson in the morning. Nelson and I smoked nearly all of the killer bud Doc gave me while my Aunt created a totally winning veal stew with lots of garlic bread and some really good homemade wine. I think it was wild berries with some apple juice added.

    I pigged and got pretty drunk. Nelson and I talked in his place for a few hours trying to come up with some trade ideas. In the morning I carried with me some smoked bacon and corn bread for the road. I also carried some deer jerky in case I ended up walking back home. I loaded the bike up with all of the cool trading shit me and Nelson could dream up. I had nails, fish hooks, a couple of cans of tuna, some smoked ham, a jar of homemade cheese, some rice, a small bottle of bleach, and some other things that I thought might trade well. Of course I carried a fair amount of weed and a bag of coke to trade to a local Doc in Jackson. A favor to Doc at the VA. I-40 actually had a fair amount of traffic. I liked the organizational efforts of the folks using horses who stayed to the far right and left the other lane to motorized traffic. They also blinded the left of the horses to keep them from jumping when a small loud badly running Jap car goes by burning god knows what. The trip was uneventful. The bike performed perfectly.

    I got to the hospital in Jackson and had lunch with Doc's friend. I really love fried chicken and he said I could have all I wanted when he saw the coke I had for him. He motioned to a nurse who took the coke to the lab to break it down for more practical use. He begged me for more and I said I might run into some later. He also gave me a vial of antibiotics he made there for me to give to Doc at the VA. Seems he has a taste for veal as well. The hospital in Jackson raises chickens. An entire wing is devoted to it. Get it? A whole wing. I kill myself. Heh! I tried some smoked chicken sausage that ruled. I think some peppers and onions could have made me feel right at home. After lunch we walked out to his pot orchard and caught a decent skull numb.

    Then I saw something strange. An airplane was above us. It was one of those motorized kites pulling a guy with a hang glider. The Doc said he knew the guy after sewing him back together when he ate a tree on take off a year before. I had no interest in flying such a fucking death trap. But it seemed like a way to move some stuff around. The Doc set up a meeting for dinner. I went out to the mill with one of the Doc's tough guys. He said I couldn't hope to get in and out without some form of friendly escort. The mill owner was a bit of a dick. His operation was powered by mules and ran horribly slow. I made a deal on behalf of Doc at the VA. I also promised to find some good whiskey from Arkansas without letting on that I already had gallons of the stuff at the store in Raleigh. I also started dealing on the issue of power. I told him about our steam plant which really got his interest. He stayed suspicious and acted totally paranoid. But I invited him to the store to see our setup. We traded some of the stuff I had for bandage cotton which I fashioned into a massive back pack for the ride back to Memphis. I stayed with the Doc at a little hotel he owned. It was really nice.

    He converted an old civil war type mansion and lit it the old fashioned way with kerosene lamps. He had another building out back which was loud as fuck with music and such. We went in and I was immediately taken by one of the girls who worked there. She was taller than me and just beautiful. A big auburn haired girl with massive boobs and deep brown eyes. She had a low voice with a strong southern accent. She was a little dense, but liked to toke. The Doc introduced her as Lyla and said she was a nice girl who was worth any impressing I could muster. Her family was wealthy and traded all kinds of shit. I invited her out for a midnight picnic under the full moon. Of course we took the bike which she loved. She directed me to a dirt road which came out of the woods to a clearing with a small cabin. She said she didn't want to fight off bugs so we ate on the deck. She lit a fire in the grill and we sampled each other's cooking.

    She turned on a small radio and picked up a station in Nashville that was playing cool tunes. Lyla opened a couple of doors that I thought were some kind of closet out on the deck. It was a bed. She said she really enjoyed fucking under a full moon. I wasted no time getting out of my jeans and joining her on a soft bed she made out of the down from the hospital chickens. It was lumpy, but perfect for all kinds of positions. Lyla really loved my hog and I was gah gah over her tanned firm mounds. I really love the tits on these southern girls. I stayed the night and was awakened to her cooking scrambled eggs with bacon and coffee. This girl was well connected and said she could get all the coffee I wanted. We smoked some weed and went back to the hotel where I caught up with the Doc. He helped me strap on my bundle and gave me a schedule of times and channels for a CB radio network for messages and such.

    They had been running one with Nashville for a while and he boasted about his ability to throw two kilowatts on a beam as far as Chattanooga in the daytime! I thought about setting a station up in a tall place in Memphis to gain more range. The drive back was a pain in the ass. I could only go about forty before the bundle began to act like a sail and fuck me up on overpasses and such. I passed a burning car that was surrounded by people arguing about it. I just waved as I raced by to avoid getting caught up in it.
     
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  5. My Aunt told me about the people she deals with in West Memphis. They run a store in a tougher area. They get robbed often and have built up a total fort around their land. They are set upon by a group of families from around Helena that had banded together to form a militant assault group. They were suspected of overrunning several farms in Mississippi and killing the owners to loot in support of their cause. The folks in West Memphis wanted to organize a strike into Helena for the express purpose of executing anyone with a weapon. I decided to look into it for my Aunt. I really didn't want to buy into someone else's problems but the Marshall's office was not interested in the unfounded rumors. I figure he got bought off. Even the Mayor's office in Memphis was unwilling to talk. I decided to take a little trade trip into Mississippi to look around. In Hernando I learned all I wanted. These people were in charge of everything in sight. The town was like an occupied zone. I met with a friend of Nelson's. He told me the group was called "Free Helena" and dated back to the banking fall when several Mississippi financial morons tried to close on some people in Helena who had strong local ties.

    Now it's the Helena people in charge. But they were a tough bunch. I saw lots of guns and lots of archery equipment. This was an organized army. So far everything was peaceful. I really didn't want to upset the balance but the people in West Memphis were sure their lives were in danger. I suggested we move them to Raleigh and combine our resources while using Memphis as a buffer. I saw strength in large numbers as necessary for our livelihood. In the mean time I had some trading to do. I remembered some points of my trip to Memphis. In particular I remembered Kelly in Dyersburg. I made some inquiries on the CB net and found a buyer for some smoked meat and charged car batteries. We did a good deal of battery charging for folks. It was easy to strip off a few watts from the generator to trickle charge a row of batteries. We kept a bank ready to go all the time. Nelson and I worked part of the night making a cover for the Cricket/truck. The weather was getting cold and I didn't want to freeze my ass off all the way.

    Nelson left a trusted friend in charge of security and we took off. It was a dull drive which was shortened by staying stoned and jamming to the wide variety of tapes we collected. We stopped by an abandoned gas station to pick off some parts from a couple of cars lying around. I got some light bulbs and plug wires. We also found half a box of 22 caliber long rifle rounds under the back seat of an old Dodge. We stopped for lunch at a swap meet near an old Stuckey's. I traded some carbon batteries we threw a cheap charge on for some ribs and beans. I got some beer for some staples but I think it was worth it. I also found some more plastic sheeting which I traded some weed for. We got back on the road and I showed Nelson some homemade hash I had scored for half a box of raisins. We crumbled it into the pipe and toked it down while being deafened by the totally excellent stereo that Nelson pulled from a dude's car for some bacon a long time back. We got into Dyersburg and looked up a couple of folks who wanted batteries.

    We went to the Reverend's house and found them glad to see me. I had a ham under my arm, but I thought they really meant it. Kelly looked good. She had put on a little weight which really hit the right places. She yanked me aside and licked my tonsils. I took this as a good sign. Nelson hit the door laughing. He can really be a dick when he wants to. She told me she had some friends who wanted some weed. We got together after an early supper to take a walk. A long walk. We ended up at one of her friends' houses after a short detour in an empty house she partied in from time to time. After some serious throat action, I gave her the hammer doggie style on a denim bean bag chair. She was young. She was tight. And made to keep me hard all night. At her friend's house I met a bunch of stoners who were playing music with an awesome array of amps made from car boosters so I naturally mentioned that I had a few batteries left and might be interested in an exchange situation. They had a kerosene heater and some fuel and a hand generator they couldn't figure out as they were techno-morons. They traded to get as far as they had. Their music was so-so, but it was nice to hear live rock and roll music again.

    I also traded for a rare treat, Acid. I hadn't tripped since the Navy, but I remember how good it was to fuck on uncle cid. I got about 6 doses for a little bud and I traded some pot leaves to one of the other friends, a guy from New Jersey who spent some time in Boston. We talked about old haunts and cool places and I described the trip down as did he. He drove his own car till it fucked up in Indiana. He rode in a wagon the rest of the way to the Mississippi river. He confirmed that going down the river was a total drag. Kelly said we could spend the night at her secret hideaway. When I asked about the Rev. she said he did not attempt to hold her back these days. She must be the wild child every mother dreads having. I think she has a good grasp on things. Hell she has her own digs and my high hard one to ride so what else could a body want? Well, I'll tell you, she also has a girl friend. Seems she likes it both ways. She says I'm the only guy she has done the deed with in a long time. But she hasn't been lonely. All I can say is Yee Haa with my Yankee accent. I heard Nelson's car pull up as he had gotten directions from the Rev. They invited us to the house for real Irish Coffee and Ice Cream. I nearly outran the Cricket/Truck.

    The Rev. was all into the state of things. The world was being punished and all that shit. I heard it from the street preachers that always tried to peddle their shit in the combat zones of Boston. But he said they were sure things in Dyersburg would continue to improve. I talked about steam generators and selling power. He became very interested. He had some pull with the telephone guys and suggested we talk about starting up a line to Raleigh for trades. The whole thing looked pretty good to all of us. The Rev. said he also knew a ham operator down the street from my Aunt. We made the call and I was able to patch into her CB and talk about stuff. Nothing new was up but trade for blankets and corn meal were way up. She was excited about a movie theater opening in the old library building in Bartlett. People are ready to trade for entertainment. I thought about the band I heard. I could put some butts into a night club. Hell we had plenty of trade for liquor and beer.

    Nelson really liked the idea of women all around the place. We bounced the idea around. The Rev. was an old fashioned guy. He even arranged to have a pretty young black chick drop by during coffee to meet Nelson. They immediately hit it off, but I knew Nelson's heart would never leave his little oriental honey in Memphis. Nelson will sample as often as he pleases. He's a total Cad! Kelly asked if I had room for she and her girl friend in our Raleigh operation. I did. My Aunt had just annexed another cool house with a pool from the Raleigh town auction. We had a plan to trade for all the adjoining property we could. This place was up on the hill overlooking the Raleigh springs Mall area. I had been in the place several times. She made the deal for 6 months of free power at city hall. I thought it was a good trade. We got a good site for growing stuff as well and Nelson said we should use the pool to raise catfish. I think not. I think I might just lay claim to the house myself. Kelly and her friend Amritte, a cute girl from India could tend the place and pull shifts at the store and I could throw killer parties that wouldn't wake my Aunt up. We already got the place next door where I thought of living, but I told Nelson it was his digs till we got something cooler.

    Nelson was a good man. I still call him a ****** for the way he acts sometimes. But he’s a good person and good for my family. So the place he got was nicer, but I had a pool and a bar. He had a pool table and a car. It worked out pretty good. My Aunt was glad to have the help. We cut the deal. The Rev. and I talked about steam power till late. Kelly had fallen asleep on the porch swing with a quilt covering her and Amritte. It was so cute and a total turn on. I had my Aunt arrange for a night at Graceland since the girls were dying to go. They don't know we can sleep in the Jungle room for a couple of hams. But then it's always been that way. Heh. Elvis the pelvis is a total porker. But he likes his coke. Go figure. The trip home was cramped with the girls sitting on the sacks of rice we found on a fluke and traded for instantly. Nelson's old lady would be totally happy to have rice again. We also had a couple of pounds of nails and some duct tape. I was also fortunate to trade for a couple of cans of cocoa powder. My Aunt would be very pleased. We stopped at the same Stuckey's to trade for more fuel and some candles I saw earlier.

    I also got some incense from a rasta guy for a small bud. He was on his way back to the Florida keys and sold shit along the way from Seattle. It was a totally cool little get high session. Nelson traded for some chitlins. A totally disgusting dish. I made him slam a glass of beer before getting back in the car to kill the stench he would leave on my pipe. The girls decided to put on a show for us among the sacks of sugar and rice. These were two hot bitches. Nelson just about hit a wagon for not watching the road. I pointed to him and told him I would be really pissed to get killed that day. I laughed and the girls lost the mood in the hail of laughter. We were all pretty stoned. My Aunt welcomed us home and quickly pointed to the small pile of firewood which needed to be replenished. I grabbed the ax and set to making myself look manly for the girls. I cut a bunch of kindling and split some short logs with a 2-cycle log splitter. It was worth the gas. It looked like a cold night would befall us. The girls set about looking in the empty houses for stuff to put into the new house.

    The place looked like an Opium den by the time they got through, but they really outfitted the cooking area well. They had a smoker and a barrel grill on the back porch and a small dorm type fridge that seemed like it would use very little power. They took the cabinet doors off and made the kitchen look like a bar. We moved most of the liquor collection from the store up to the house. Of course I said it was to keep the theft risk down. Heh. With the ice from the store's deep freeze we could throw a hell of a party. I am still amazed at how quickly these two got the digs straight. I came home at 6:00. They both met me at the door dressed in swim wear. A quick peck on the cheek. A couple of bong hits. A slam of an ice cold beer and I was ready to do the deed in the living room with a rager of a fire going. We christened every room of the place in some way.

    Nelson dropped by with the old lady and a big bowl of rice with pork and veggies. It was terrific. We mixed some drinks and toked a few and relaxed. Nelson brought out the last of the hash he got on the trip and we clouded for a while. We planned to run some intercoms between the houses and keep a CB nearby. My Aunt's friends in Arkansas are working on acquiring some of the property next to ours. We will consolidate after all. They have a good stock of useful shit and we have plenty of food. They have a truck, but we need to guard the place while the move goes down. I think I will carry a small force of Nelson's bad ass friends with me for extra security. I passed out in the den with Kelly in a recliner beside me. It was cramped but nice. The telephone from Dyersburg was working in less than a week. We were able to plan weekly trips and make a decent profit.

    The Rev. really wanted to see our power plant. I invited him down and he spent the night with my Aunt. I guess they were both overdue. She later confided that he was not her type, but he was good enough for weekly visits. She's the most practical woman I ever met. He fell in love with the steam engine the same way I did. We set up a deal to build one up for him with a healthy kicker going to the dude in Natural bridge who was very glad to hear about the deal. I made a deal for a bar in Frasier. It was closed for some time, but still in pretty good shape. We used a 2 cycle generator and battery power to run the joint and we got Kelly's friends to play for room, board, and tips. They were also required to chop wood like everyone else. And since they were living in the club I had built in security. Christmas was coming and I wanted to see a good one after all the years of bullshit. The girls decorated the places with all kinds of shit and begged for some power to waste on lights in the yard. I reluctantly agreed. Nelson and I were hard at work piping some of the boiler's excess steam to the store for heat. It hasn't been too cold yet, but we know it will be.

    I will be relying on the fireplace and the kerosene heater. The Rev. had a friend in Dyersburg who made wagons. He made all kinds and specialized in old fashioned ones. Rev. arranged one for my Aunt. It arrived on Christmas eve with a driver who was to train my Aunt to drive the thing and, of course, a horse. Of course! Ha ha. She took a little while learning to drive the thing, but she loved it. She went to the movies with her friends in style. I gave Nelson two hits of acid and a crossbow I traded for at the VA. He gave me a gallon of peach liqueur that was like Southern Comfort. I loved the stuff. He also gave me a red sweater and he had one for everyone else. Nelson was turning into quite the tradesman. The Rev. gave me a stack of fuck books. I guess he didn't feel the need anymore since he and My Aunt were comfortable. I guess once a week or so is good enough for him. I'd be crazy. I gave him a tape deck and some jarred peaches. I hate to refer to anything in a jar as canned. It just seems stupid. The girls borrowed the use of a neighbors' brick oven to bake a beautiful cake. We all pitched in for a pot luck supper. We had Rabbit stew and barbecued ribs. We also had spinach and kale salads with tomatoes and pumpkin pie. They had sweet potato pie which tastes pretty much the same though it was a first for me.

    Of course we had ham and turkey. Doc came by with an Italian dish made with veal that was making me real homesick. But Boston would never be home to me again. I was living like a king in the deep south. My buddies in Boston would be totally green if they saw how I had it now. But I'm not really in the mood to share it with the likes of any no account Yankees. Heh. Nelson took me aside during the festivities to rap. We went out back and twisted a big round one. He handed me another gift. It was a bullet proof police vest. He wanted me to wear it during the months ahead while I was on the bike. He thought someone hungry might get desperate and shoot me to get the bike. People were killing for less. And the winter months seemed to bring out the real nasty survivors. He also had some more shells and some 38 ammo for my pistol. I don't get fucked with much. We celebrated New Years Eve at the club. We had a long buffet spread with all kinds of cool shit. Everything but the liquor was on the house. I even sprang for a keg of Memphis beer. The band had been doing a lot of practice. They did a Boston tune that put me right back on the Commons. Nelson got up and wailed on his ax for a couple of Blues tunes.

    The girls got up and did a cool country sounding number. Amritte caught the eye of a guy who lived in Bartlett that I had seen around. He seemed OK. They talked at a table for a while. As it turns out they went to the same school in California. He had a sister I used to eye at swap meets. Kelly was jealous as shit but I told her it was cool. I thought he had a family. As it turns out the two of them were hitting it off. She went out back and burned one with the guy and invited us out. Kelly warmed up a bit and we all got along fine.

    My Aunt found a new hobby. Blowing the same fucking fuse over and over. I seem to be having the same problem with her that they had on Green Acres with the trying to calculate power usage on the fly. She just has to have her microwave oven. She uses it to heat up shit in the little cafe she has turned the former garage into. She serves wine and beer, but no liquor. She doesn’t want any more of my element hanging around than is necessary. She can be a bitch when she wants. She moved down to Memphis fifteen years ago and had yet to shed her New York accent or manners.
     
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  6. dirtydog

    dirtydog Banned

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    I just skimmed over this. It looks like it might be a good story, but I (and probably most readers) will not read unbroken paragraphs such as these. You have to split it up in paragraphs and maybe provide some headings to let the reader know at a glance where it's going. Spelling and grammar look okay.

    Since it is a novel, you could improve it with photos (even of fictitious models, see my piece 'Anacapa') to break it up and capture the reader's attention. A thumbnail photo of a parked pickup truck won't do the trick, however. The 'trade inventory' thumbnail should be readable size, centered, without asking the reader to click on a link to make it readable.
     
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  7. Yea, that's part of the reason I provided a link to the original article, it's much easier to read. The reason I reposted it at all is because I can no longer get to that AOL email address and chapter 1 now has well over 10,000 hits. Also the pictures and illustrations looks SO much better in the pdf document. I'm still editing and still trying to bring it alive with images. I originally wrote this just to see if I could. It took on a life of its own.

    But I reposted it so searches that find the original posting might also link to my other emails. I'm hoping some others who have been reading this since 1995 might see it and contact me as well. For a while it was like a project for our group on AOL.

    Still, I am honored by your perspective and agree that I will need to clean it up. For now I just wanted to get it posted again.

    CF


     
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  8. GeorgeJetStoned

    GeorgeJetStoned Odd Member

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    I did not expect to find this!
     
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  9. Laura325

    Laura325 Members

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    Gee wiz, ever hear of paragraphs?
     
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  10. Beutsecks

    Beutsecks Large Rooster

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    Time for a reload
     
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  11. drumminmama

    drumminmama Super Moderator Lifetime Supporter

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    Great stronger novel never gets written over a span of eight years...because stoner.
     
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  12. I decided to get back into it. So I added paragraphs and a few pictures. I'll be adding chapter 2 next. Thanks for the critique~!
     
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  13. done
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 1, 2020
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  14. GeorgeJetStoned

    GeorgeJetStoned Odd Member

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    It's about time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
     
  15. done
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 1, 2020
  16. Chapter 4

    Trading into Political Change

    Key West was still jumping and I enjoyed the company of Ms. Breasts for a couple of days till she left for Miami. We were going to stay to do some fishing and shrimping around the Keys. I was cutting deep into my trade goods from Memphis and worried about reducing my stash from the trip. I had lots of cool stuff that Memphis would really like to see. But I needed to try to show a profit. We made good with the shrimp. We were not going back through Tampa so we got a load of fuel and some other stuff and headed straight for New Orleans. We hit some bad weather in the Gulf of Mexico, but didn’t lose any stock. [​IMG]
    We trolled for a couple of days before putting in at New Orleans. I went straight to the Fat Frenchman’s Hotel to drop off his requests. He was glad to see me and bragged about one of his whores having his kid. Like I gave a fuck! I also dropped off the voodoo shit and picked up the other half of the deal in the form of whiskey that I had loaded onto the boat which was going to take me to Memphis. The Captain of the Yacht made sure all of my shit was transferred and invited me to cruise anytime I wanted to see the Caribbean again.

    I was taking away a shitload of shrimp on paper for my efforts. Next I was on the phone to Raleigh. Thankfully nothing new had befallen my family. And most of the shit I shipped had arrived OK. Some of this vacation trip was working out just fine. As we motored up the river I told the Captain of the flat boat about my trip and shared some of the fine weed from the Caribbean. In Natchez we were greeted by the hanging bodies of a couple of former river pirates off the bridge. A message to assholes and to me as well. I was ready for any shit now. I have fought off Cuban pirates who are much better at killing than these redneck ass wipes. We put in for an hour or so and I placed another call to Raleigh to give them a progress. Nelson was getting a couple of wagons ready for the shit I was hauling. I had traded for more fuel oil in Natchez so he was going to need some help. I was riding a string of flat bottomed boats hauling all sorts of shit northward. It was pulled by a modified two engine cabin cruiser with a small fishing type boat at the end to keep control in narrow areas.

    When we got near Greenville I started to see the signs of the Free Helena group. They were claiming territory all along the side of the river and declaring a pirate free zone which was generating revenue in the form of protection tolls. The captain paid off with a sack of sandwiches and we were on our way. It was like that sometimes, catch them when they’re hungry and they’ll let you slide for a fat sandwich. The bridge was clear and the toll booths were taken down by US Marshals. They had cut a deal which made the river a little safer and kept the radical assholes satisfied. When I finally saw Memphis coming around I relaxed. I was home. I moved some of the gifts around so I could present everyone with at least one at the dock. Nelson and the girls were waiting. Kelly was huge and sat in Smokin’ Joe. She had been having problems and they wanted to keep her close to fast transport. The baby was really working her over from the inside. Doc was on call for her and we went straight to the VA so I could give Doc his shit. He assured me that Kelly would be all right, but it had been dicey for a week or so. She would be delivering premature from the look of it so Doc was making arrangements with Saint Jude to deal with the little one.

    While she tried to secure my thoughts, I was going to worry. Doc changed the bandage on my arm while I told that tale to all of my wives who showed concern and were grateful for my return. Doc’s assistant was thumbs up all the way as she inventoried my delivery. She carried all the seeds to the drug lab and the drug garden. There were going to be all kinds of new things for the sick among us. Doc’s research was beginning to push patients out, he was able to annex the entire hospital complex up the street complete with walkways between the buildings. The VA was fast becoming a major facility and supported hospitals all over. The Opium was going to come in very handy for all the pain people seem to find. They were going to start with the various weed seeds I brought back immediately. Doc walked me around the courtyard showing me the changes he had in mind during the summer months. It was going to be like a jungle in the courtyard this summer so we could have all kinds of tropical fruit.

    Marissa and Amritte took me back to the store to see my Aunt. I unloaded the wagon after a quick visit and played with my children the rest of the day. It wasn’t till night that the girls pounced on me. I guess they all stayed loyal and couldn’t wait to jump my tanned body. I spent a little time on the beaches in the raw. It was an epic fuck fest with these two. I was able to relax a little, but I still worried about Kelly. Nelson and I talked business over some Jamaican weed. He had fielded orders for more steam plants. Our reputation was taking off. I think electricity is what really makes a civilization tolerable. Now I had to find some generators. I was able to work out a pretty good system for providing reliable power. Otherwise we still had regular 110AC. We were looking at marketing to a more common class of people instead of just the well-connected or wealthy. But we would need to go into a level of production that I was not ready for. Some of the shit we used was either custom or otherwise very hard to find. I was going to be in hell trying to fill the orders Nelson landed. I placed an ad on the radio for machinists. I planned to hire three or so. We interviewed about thirty people at the pizza joint still operating in the Raleigh Springs mall and decided on four.

    One was kind of an apprentice and didn’t cost us much. Another was older and had a family in Frasier living in a rented room at a church. The other two were a married couple and she was expecting in about six months. I moved them all into houses inside the fence. I wanted them close by so I could work their asses off. I promised to make them pretty well off as long as they didn’t steal (from us anyway), cause trouble, or get lazy. I cannot stand lazy assholes. I told them that Nelson was their foreman, but rank was not going to be measured out. We all did the same work and as long as I must chop wood so must everyone else. The girls got the houses in order with the Apprentice in a little place we kept between the shop and the power plant. This guy was going to learn our steam plant completely. Nelson and I took the machinists to the other side of the hill to make sure they could all hit something with a gun. We then went into the hideout for a quick bout with some weed and a little Opium. I forgot how I loved the local brandy in Memphis. I finally got to talk about the trip with Nelson. He and I both lost count of how many times I got naked with a chick or chicks. We laughed our asses off and went back to the firing range we set up in one of the back yards of our annexed property. We told them to shoot out the ammo then clean the weapons which gave us plenty of time to check on a few things as we said when we left. The older guy’s wife had practically no skills and my Aunt had to give her bullshit work till she learned more. She was dumb as a stump. I couldn’t see the attraction except that this guy was really into his kids. Besides she looked OK I guess. I just cannot abide by a woman with no clue about the meaning of life.

    With Kelly out of commission the cafe has been more and more difficult to manage. I had to do more than a couple of loads of dishes while the regular guy cooked and served shit. I preferred to stay in the back so’s folks wouldn’t have to see me humiliate myself to becoming a waiter. That is not for me at all. I have been working a lot in the slaughterhouse getting the pigs all done up to fill orders. But the bulk of my time has been spent on the phone between Jackson, New Orleans, and Dyersburg. That and in the shop getting steam engine parts worked out. We have modified the design of the cylinders and even tried a piston machined out of a block of nylon. It worked OK and was very fast, but it didn’t hold up as well as a vertical cast iron unit. And I really hated to open up a steam engine very often. The Rev let one of his starve of oil which scraped the shit out of the inside of the cylinder. We cut a deal to upgrade his unit and he would keep us in Kentucky coal. It was high in sulfur, but it trades well. We rarely actually use the shit in our plant any more. Using two pairs of burners running on either fuel oil or gasoline or both seems to produce enough steam for everyone we trade with in Raleigh. We are connected to a hundred and seventy houses and twelve government buildings. Big Ruth supplies most of it, but we have to switch shit around sometimes and must use two smaller units to tow the load when people use too much.

    We are also fusing every house as we are not going to smoke the generator windings because someone decides to hook up an old electric heater or something. Our losses in the system are kind of high, but most of the folks are using the power to charge or supplement battery power anyway. Lead is becoming as valuable as gold these days. I traded a half a pig for a ton of it which is obscene to me. But it was a cheap way to store energy. And we were in the energy business. Kelly had my new son a month early. They stayed at Saint Jude’s for more than a week while I chewed my nails down to the elbow. I was really worried, but he came out of it loud and strong at a little over five pounds. They insisted on keeping him in a controlled environment. Amritte and Marissa were cleaning the shit out of everything. I have been moved into the Opium room with all of my shit in an eviction procedure that was as heartless as the Boston ghetto scenes just before the shit started during the Crash. I felt single for a couple of days except for my other kids whom I was forced to watch during every free moment.

    Nelson and I spent a lot more time at the hideout listening to football games from some of the small radios stations that were cropping up. The Memphis baseball teams were still working for room and board as well as some little trading for commercial shit. It’s nice to be able to relax with a beer and a toke and a good game. I miss regular television so much that I am seriously considering an offer from a guy who wants to do some new things with cable broadcasts to small transmitters which would serve about a mile or so and fit in a tool box sized cabinet. The best thing is that it runs on 12 volts which we have a separate station to produce. We also landed a contract with the new Memphis Radio Company. They were moving a small station’s antenna to the top of a tower that used to be a TV station. It’s the highest one around and since the parts are free, they will be able to switch to directional broadcasting which should reach New Orleans even during the day. It’s going to be operated by some engineers who had nothing better to do than chop wood like the rest of us. We were building a smaller steam unit than we usually did since it had a smaller job to do. They also had a two cycle generator for emergencies, or could operate in a power restricted mode on car batteries.

    We traded for programming time and some much needed upgrades to our communications systems. We even had pagers for some people like Doc and a couple of other necessary folks. Raleigh city hall used them for the fire chief and the newly created position of Security Constable. I knew the guy that got elected and learned some cool shit for keeping assholes away from our property. He didn’t get high nor did he drink much. I could rarely get him over for a beer, but he drank gallons of iced tea. Amritte was the queen of tea and had a trade group in Dyersburg that kept her swimming in the shit. I was glad to finally get all of the houses connected with intercoms or radios. To save power I used a bunch of kids’ type walkie-talkies that ran on next to no current to serve as monitors. We kept the antennas short or you got everyone in Memphis waking you up at night. We had a big bell in front of every house which had it surrounded with people in seconds flat so we rarely were surprised by anyone. I ran an alarm wire down to the hideout just in case. I also ran an intercom in parallel with a wood storage house so we could talk if need be. The radio station was to go on the air in a month and advertising trade became another product of mine. We also had a few bands who were playing free just to get gigs.

    We occasionally hooked up with a club down on Madison and a couple of places on Beale Street would relay through two meter or even some on CB were pretty good. Baton Rouge heard it loud and clear, but New Orleans only got it at night. But that seemed to be enough as orders for shit began to come our way. We even managed to pull some of the Brandy trade away from south Alabama. Nashville threw some business at us and the trade rate for coal began to drop not to mention other fuels. Fuel was my biggest concern as I really hate cutting wood for more than smoking. I usually have some of the tenants cut firewood, but I need a good workout every so often and being on the chop schedule was one way to guarantee it. Kelly was doing much better and my new son was kicking along just fine. Amritte rarely left her side and our daughter was getting into everything. I hired a Nanny of sorts to keep everything at the house running smoothly. Marissa was busting ass keeping the fabric operation going. She made arrangements to trade for another loom and suggested we ride to Selmer to take a look. We loaded up the bike with some trade goods and a substantial quantity of gas. We had never really traveled together and hadn’t been alone with each other in months. My oldest son stayed with one of his other Mommies as we planned on an overnight trip to look into other trade possibilities. We made a few deals for cotton along the way. Most of it was still in the ground, but was due to be picked fairly soon.

    Selmer is a small town with lots of dumb asses all about. People are real suspicious acting and don’t care for my Yankee accent. Of course they seem to love Marissa, but who wouldn’t. She was a fine looking Latin girl with a great body and a smooth Spanish voice. Pulling into town we witnessed a couple of bodies left hanging in front of the City Hall. They wore signs that read Thief and Rapist. Rape was pretty common these days and is why I rarely let any of the women leave our land without being heavily armed. Raleigh is not too much of a problem as far as those things are concerned, but Memphis is a fast moving town with lots of new people who don’t always get along with locals. We had lunch in a little diner and had some of the local specialty, Turkey. They offered it about four ways, and I decided on barbecue while Marissa wanted beef which is the kind of woman she is. The local beer was awful so I had some lemonade. I was able to see the whole town square and saw a black guy get his ass whipped by a couple of white guys in the center of town.

    The waitress said he must have tried to steal something and remarked that “Niggers are always stealing shit in town”. The town will not allow them in after dark either. In my mind I could only think that some southern places would never pull into this century. But Selmer had no kind of crime problem compared to Frasier. So it must work for them. We rode out to the place with the loom. It was in good shape and was nearly like the one we were using except for one major point. It was designed for an electric motor. These folks were using a bicycle type drive and it moved without jerking which drove Marissa wild with excitement. Amritte didn’t mind the occasional jam, but Marissa was psychotic about it and went into rage fits whenever it happened. Marissa was having an orgasm making fabric nearly twice as fast as Amritte could and she cut the deal. They would be bringing the thing to us by wagon and taking back fuel oil and smoked meat. I also worked in their remaining thread for some brandy. These folks were going out of the cloth business since operations like ours were answering the demand. They would also get regular livestock certificates till we had paid off five horses. Five fucking horses. God damn. [​IMG]

    It was a steep trade but the machine was in perfect shape. I have seen some of Amritte’s patterns around town. We also picked up a few dye vats in the trade which will always come in handy. We loaded the bike up with some local trade goods including tomatoes and bell peppers of all colors. We rode back a little while and stopped when Marissa started reaching for my organ. We pulled onto a little dirt road off the highway and did the old bend her over the bike routine. I got good traction since I was still in my boots while Marissa balanced herself in different places for each stroke. She finally got situated and I was able to slam it home. We stopped again at a little stand for lunch. Marissa has developed a real taste for boiled peanuts while I chowed down on a goat burger. I kind of got used to them awhile back and they were all over the islands. A good fuck parley always makes me willing to eat just about anything. Marissa traded some nail polish for some hair stuff. We spent another hour or so at a flea market and traded a little more. I managed to pick up some ammunition for the 410 I keep in the hideout and a calculator that I have been needing to figure some shit on the fly. Marissa had to play a game with her feet in the sidecar as I had the floor covered with valves and copper fittings which were always useful.

    When we got back to Raleigh I sent the Apprentice out to find an appropriate electric motor for the new loom. The loom would be here the next day so I had everybody I could spare getting things ready for it. Nelson and I went to the other side of the property with the wagon to bring over the panels from a couple of steel buildings we inherited during the annexation of some of the houses. We needed to expand the loom building to accommodate the new one. It began to look like a shotgun shack similar the ones over by the VA. The Rev. was down from Dyersburg with a load of tea for Amritte and a stiffy for My Aunt. She was less of a bitch for a couple of days after he left so I encourage his visits. He also had a line on nails and we always needed nails. Some guy up there makes them. Some are really odd looking, but most are OK. Once in a while one will bend in half or break on the first whack. I always wear gloves. I had to run another power line in from Big Ruth, but I think it will be overkill. Amritte hardly uses any power unless she is weaving at night. Then she wants a kilowatt so it will look like daylight in there. Marissa also wanted a lot of light. My apprentice pulled up in Smokin’ Joe with a couple of different motors. One was a way overdone AC motor that looked like it could turn the house. The other was a twelve volt unit with a shitload of torque which I decided on. I used a chain of car batteries and trickle charged them while we got the rest of the room finished. [​IMG]

    Marissa came down from the house with a hat on, but I could see that she had done something strange. Now I had a blonde Latin wife. She dragged me into the bathroom to show me her new blonde pubes. She was terribly turned on and looked really hot as she sat on the sink. We heard Amritte’s loom make a couple of turns so we made an exit from the bathroom. I slipped out through the fabric unseen while Marissa rubbed Amritte’s shoulders and gave her a kiss on the neck. Amritte turned and laid one on her lips and they began talking shop. Amritte was working on a flag for City Hall. Memphis was going to declare itself sovereign and Raleigh wanted to remain connected so a contract was made and Raleigh no longer had the barrier that 240 created. The tollgates were removed and vehicular trade into Memphis was free to Raleigh. Since Raleigh had annexed most of Frasier and a huge chunk of Bartlett, we were the biggest thing north of Memphis till you got to Dyersburg. Nelson’s Old Lady had been running a rice concession that finally netted her some unique treats. She made excellent Chinese food even though she was from Nam. She managed to track down a guy who converted some of her rice into Sake. I had hot Sake in the Navy once and really got shredded. I was also smoking weed so I was pretty Konged.

    We had dinner in a little room she made out of their back porch. It was all done up in Alabama Bamboo and Oriental prints. We sat on the floor and got hammered on Sake and some killer dog dish. Ha, that sounds funny, dog dish. What a name for Rover-Over-Rice. Kelly and I sat alone for a while and kissed. I ran my hands over her swollen breasts which leaked like our water tower. She was kind of shy about it, but I assured her that I loved her and was very happy she blessed me with another son. He was doing just fine and was eating rice cereal at three weeks so he was going to be big. The birth was difficult, but didn’t require any cutting so she was getting a little frisky. Doc said he would beat my ass if I put my dork in her before another three weeks. So I’d do the laundry by hand. I got up to see where Nelson had gone off to. We finished dinner and went over to the house to check on our new son. With him asleep and Amritte watching the house, Kelly and I decided on a little drive around the property in one of the electric golf carts. She got the biggest thrill out of driving it. We parked at one of the houses we had not begun to take parts off of or otherwise use. It had a pool that we planned to use for fish. We thought skinny dipping in it to the light of a very bright moon would be nice. We swam a little and I gave her a massage. The next morning came a little too soon as I spent most of the rest of my night as a referee in a tag team match between Amritte and Marissa. I had eggs, ham and some kind of biscuits made with rice flour. I slammed a glass of milk and went down the hill on the cable. It was a steel cable that ran from the top of the hill to the work shop. I surprised the Apprentice who was getting back to work after breakfast. He usually ate in the cafe, but it seems he had company overnight. She was a cute girl and just stupid enough to suit him. He must have gotten it pretty good to be serving her in bed.

    He and I decided to split some logs together. I loaded and he pulled the long arm of the splitter which levered a wedge into the center of the log and split it nicely. It was Nelson’s idea to build it and it saved us a lot on fuel to run the two cycle unit. The rig had a trail in the grass from where your feet would hit when you were on the lever. The result was a perfect arc and we rigged a return spring to pull it back if the log didn’t get snagged. Naturally the Apprentice wanted to marry the bitch right away and I said I was tired of hearing that kind of shit and wanted him to grow up. He got all hurt looking so I got him stoned with a fat fence bud. I explained to him that he was thinking with his little head too much and that we might take another trip to New Orleans soon so he needed to save himself a little energy. It took a few tokes before he began to see things my way. She was cute though. Since he has suddenly become a man of some worth, he has attracted a better class of bitch. She worked in the library at Catholic High since graduating last year. She was young and ripe. I think most of the marriage talk was her idea.

    My Aunt had a standing rule that anybody who spent more than a night on the grounds was to pull a shift. Kelly initiated the Librarian with all the shit jobs in the cafe and ended her day with splitting kindling for the brick oven. Kelly didn’t like lazy bitches any more than I did. She came back a few times and Kelly was nicer to her. Times are tough and no group can support a freeloader. My oldest son took a real liking to her so she worked some off by sitting with the kids and helping Kelly out. The Machinist was making the valves for our newest class of steam engine. It was going to be used to power some of downtown Memphis and all of Beale Street. I made it part of the deal when Memphis became an independent city and included Raleigh in its free trade territory. We also got some security from the Memphis Militia and cheap coal thanks to buying power. All we had to do was maintain the plant for a control in the coal stocks that were pouring into Memphis from all over. The New Memphis government was not going to let another winter kick Memphis’ ass. This new engine would make Big Ruth Baggett look sick. It was a bigger cylinder with a huge flywheel and was to drive a pair of rebuilt military generators. They would have to be switched manually to synchronize the load and used a pair of reed indicators which were between the two switches. They had to be thrown at the same time or only one generator would try to take the entire load, which was not possible and would result in a smoked stator coil.

    We also annexed a large parcel of the Macon road area and finally had a permanent mooring at the new Memphis Docks. Kelly and my Aunt won a rigged lottery for a concession position. This meant they could have first pick of market spots on Beale Street, Mud Island and the Mid America mall. And they planned to open a cafe in each parcel. With a little nudging they agreed that a Caribbean beach club would be perfect for the position at the end of the Mississippi map on Mud Island. I wanted beer and Volley ball and strippers after midnight. No telling what will actually become of it. The plans for Mud Island were drawn up well before the crash. It took a shitload of trade and perseverance to make it happen. I was also upgrading the power station at the VA. Doc was making shitloads of business in drug research and production. He makes bizarre combinations for recreational use as well. I kept a pipeline open to my Caribbean Opium connection which made his work much easier. Doc was in need of reliable power to run an x-ray machine that he inherited from one of the hospitals he controlled. He said it was special and needed more power. He was using one of our engines from the early days and it was time for one with better power and a little more control over speed. His old one was a horizontal piston type that turned an emergency type generator that was there all along. We would rebuild it and use it for a smaller generator that would be used to run the x-ray machine and some other specialized shit. The new one would be enough to run the lights and most of the other shit. He also knocked out several internal walls to let more window light serve a useful purpose.

    His chemist supplied us with powder for the shotguns and has figured out all kinds of shit where ammunition is concerned. He even helped us with mix ratios for all the weird mixtures of different fuels we work with. We keep a chart in every power plant boiler room. Sometimes you were left with only wood and fuel oil or coal and wood or whatever. It was handy to know how much gasoline was too much to add to a certain temperature of burning wood. The new flag of Memphis was beautiful. It was designed by a young girl who lived in Sherwood Forest. She saw a side of Memphis the rest of us had overlooked with a big M and a tree and a guitar and some other shit in a cool arrangement. She won food and voting rights for her parents, her Dad was a shoemaker while her mom was real well known for jams. I think it was rigged, but it is a nice flag. We have one up on the hill. It flies blow my Sox pennant.
    [​IMG]
    Flags were common all around. People used them to mark property and declare ownership. Communication was boosted with flags. I had a yellow flag at the mooring to indicate I will trade for fuel and a red one for meat trade. I got a white one with a coffee cup for Lyla to put out on the highway near her place. She appreciated it. She was really happy with her new coffee arrangement and was experimenting with all kinds of flavors and shit to offer a very respectable menu. She had a custom grind that she sold to the Peabody and no one else. I had to promise not to share my one pound a month with anybody outside my immediate family. She is really tight with the Peabody owner and doesn’t want to lose her gravy account. He insists on having the only place to get this excellent coffee. Doc spends at least 3 nights a week there to savor the flavor. Of course he trades veal and herbs with the chef and on and on. I trade him some hardwood and all kinds of alcohol. I can always get a good room when I need it. Especially when all the women are mad at me. My Aunt let it slip about Lyla and my dealings with her for so long now. But I felt they blew it way out of proportion and raised hell with me for too long so I packed up and stayed gone for a week.

    It was a party week too. I was so pissed about being run out of my own home, but I did manage to trade over the phone and sold another power plant to a small group in Holly Springs who needed reliable power for their street. They raised cotton and soybeans which I hated, but they did trade well. Nelson’s Old Lady was able to trade some for homemade soy sauce. I liked her cooking and would do anything to help her continue. I caught a show that included a band called Dangerous Bacon. What a weird fucking name. They sported colored hair and weird lyrics, but they were fucking great. They played some covers but their original artwork was excellent. I love that new music sound and I don’t really mind the cheap amps. These folks did have a good amp hooked to the lead guitar and it wailed till my ears bled. I love loud as fuck hell raising tunes. Yes while I was away from my bitchy family I did the deed many times. I met a chick tending bar in Overton Square. She was hot as fuck with a body from a Disco workout session and deep green eyes. Her hair was very dark auburn with lightened streaks throughout its inflated mass and a skirt that was pure fine Corinthian Leather like the back seat of a Chrysler. I met her while I was trying to pity myself with a change of scenery from the downtown clubs that I knew so well. I wanted something different and here it was. She had a room above the bar so we went up for a toke during a break.

    The music was right below the bed which is where we compared lips for a little while. She went back down and finished her shift while I caught a nap. She came back up and helped me toot up some energy while we got naked for a while. We decided to shoot some pool over on Highland till the wee hours. I remember saying “Here comes the Sun Doot ‘n Doo Doo” when we walked out of the black doors at sunrise. She fell asleep in the sidecar on the way back so I took a long drive around the parkway which I liked to do on those rare mornings when I wake up in Memphis. I carried her up the stairs while she cuddled my neck and reached up to kiss my chin. When she couldn’t remember where her key was I kicked in the cheap bullshit door and laid her down on the bed. I went down to the bike for some tools and fixed her door better than before. I even put up a bar to keep her safe at night. Her name was Iris and she confessed to having a husband in Mississippi. She was hiding out to try and evaluate their relationship. This is the first job she ever held down which she did well.

    Her place was filled with cool shit. She had a long porcelain bong that I tried to wear out with my best weed from the Ganja pipeline. She had a room full of Elvis shit too. I liked him OK and didn’t mind The King watching as I got stoned and had my way with one of his fans. We smoked a little bit of Opium and crashed like a freight train. I slept through the heat of the day with the aid of a counter-weighted fan that ran off a couple of bowling balls. We didn’t get up till a knock came and she had to get back to work. It was Friday afternoon and her biggest night of the week was beginning to unfold. I got up with her and placed a call to Nelson who said the bitches were still on the warpath and I should just enjoy the time away. He was fortunate that only my Aunt ever made him work like a dog. But then she does everyone that way. Kelly’s mother was due to visit next week so I guess it was for the best that we all got a break from each other. I went back to the Peabody and told Iris to meet me there after midnight. [​IMG]

    I needed a shower and a good stiff drink. I had a steak with fries for dinner and also scarfed a salad with lots of bleu cheese dressing. Next was a strip club that used to be the bus station where I saw some fine breasts. It was a decent club with a full bar. Of course they had a back-room where the real action was happening, but I was not in the mood for a slut session. I caught up with Doc back at the Peabody. He was doing his usual coffee binger and tooting a little coke. The man was definitely into his uppers. We talked about women and bitches. His old lady was acting up so he was getting a room for the night. He had a little action lined up already and was up for a little partying. We caught a buggy to Overton Square and met up with Iris. Doc turned us on to some new shit he was turning out. It was an upper mixed with a hallucinogen that smoked my ass. I was mesmerized by all the trails. Iris had never tripped before and was later the willing subject of an hour long orgasm.
    [​IMG]

    We saw an alley show downtown and later went to Mud Island for some dancing. My Aunt was renting her concession to a group who had their own ideas about entertaining. But Cajun was cool too. They had an excellent sound system and played some tapes while the band was catching a buzz. I looked down onto the marina and saw a couple of parties on some boats. It reminded me of Key West. I thought a boat could be cool. But what kind? I had to give it some thought. I was pissed off at my Aunt for letting the Lyla thing slip, but it pissed me off even more to get the bullshit treatment from all three of my wives. The more I thought about it the madder I got. Those bitches had it good thanks to me. I was determined to make a point of this. Doc said he thought I was making too big a deal out of it. He said it would all be back to normal in a week. It wasn’t. So I stayed with Iris for a little longer. She was nice and understood my plight. She also gave one mean hummer. She hated Mississippi and wanted to make a life for herself in Memphis. She had a killer body, but a good sense for things. In my second week I managed to trade her into running a club further up Madison. It was smaller, but nicer than the one on the square. I traded for an apartment behind the place and set her up. I needed a refuge, but I hated being alone. I placed no strings on the arrangement save for the usual business.

    She and I went to Arkansas for a flea market hop. They have some really big ones there and bargains are real easy to find. In Memphis people want too much for their shit. I managed to find some more children’s’ video tapes which caused me to have to explain my whole situation to Iris. She was naturally confused. Shocked is more like it. She wasn’t too sure about becoming a mistress. I didn’t like the sound of it either. But we did hit it off pretty well. We decided to enjoy each other for a few more days and see what happened. I missed my kids. All I wanted at that moment was to have them all over me on the living room floor while my wives laughed at us. I was getting homesick. My anger had subsided. The club I set Iris up in had been closed for more than a year and had only recently reopened. Tina at Macon road told me about it. She said they had a good barbecue pit which I think would greatly improve with some quality wood instead of whatever they were using. Smoke meat for a couple of years and a guy can really get a taste for every aspect of it. We had it down to an art. Anyway, the owner had traded with me before to get fuel oil and sometimes food. He took Iris on as long as I could get him a good deal on booze and food. I agreed, but I knew she could handle the place better than he was. I got drunk with him while she ran the bar and the kitchen. It was more like a closet and they did all the big cooking on the covered back porch.

    I convinced him that he was working too hard and should let Iris pull him into a comfortable life. As it turns out his daughters attend school with Doc’s. I told him he should pattern his place like the Hash Pubs in Amsterdam. I always wanted to go there. But with the Commies running nearly all of Europe it was just a fantasy. I hardly hear shit about the rest of the world. Just dead people reports. What did everyone expect trusting Lawyers and Accountants with their money? I place the blame squarely on their shoulders and when the Crash came so did a lot of other people. I remember the ugly scene in Boston. Elevators were a favorite place to knife a Lawyer or in their car. I never had any real gripe with them, but I didn’t cry when they started dropping like flies either. The Club owner made a deal with a guy up the block and got his little windmill sign. I put him in touch with some weed and hash and such so we created about the coolest place in Memphis. It was filled to the brink every night and he was forced to put tables out on the sidewalk and in the street. Madison had been closed for a couple of years for a few blocks on each side of the square. A couple of train cars converted to stores on each side gave plenty of assurance that no one would run the street blockade.

    With methane street lights it looked a little like the French Quarter. The Club Owner had Iris begging to keep the place open past ten. He wanted to go home early nights, but agreed to let her take on another girl. The joint was always jumping, anybody breathing was floating on a cloud. I got a buzz just sitting in the place. I have a knack for getting what I want and if you got something to trade with I can make some kind of deal. I wanted a hash Pub and got one. I don’t own the thing, but I am a vendor. I got Saint Patrick involved and we charged premium trade rates for everything. Hell he could afford it. The place really blew up when it ended up on the Radio. It wasn’t long before Marissa had tracked me down in the New Amsterdam Pub and Hash House. She said it just had me written all over it. We went up to Iris’s apartment to talk. She had finally convinced the others that I wasn’t so bad. Thanks a lot. But I knew what she meant. We all needed each other and I was always my own man. She got mad at me when it seemed like she might lose what we had. She was perfectly happy with it. Amritte and Kelly were another matter. They insisted that I forget about Lyla and I told them to go to hell. But that was three weeks ago. Perhaps it was time to work it out.

    Marissa made it obvious it was time for sex. She was horny as hell and needed the high hard one. I obliged naturally and she had no objection when Iris came up to watch. Iris had to get back to the club, but invited Marissa to spend the night after witnessing her impalement. We smoked a little weed and ate some of the food Iris had in the place. We listened to the radio and danced a little. She was really beautiful and I said that I really missed her all this time. I kissed her for an eternity and vanished in her cool black eyes. Her blonde tresses were showing a more even sheen than when she first did the dye job and her little waist felt good against my pelvis. Her skin was smooth and brown from her long as fuck tanning sessions. Her breasts were tanned and perky as we danced topless to a special set she had requested on the radio. She gets what she wants too. The music in the club stopped and I said Iris would be home soon. Marissa almost immediately dropped to her knees and was gargling me in no time. She teased me to death and when the knock came at the door she unplugged me from her lips only long enough to say “Please come in”.

    Iris sat down beside us and watched for a little while and stroked Marissa’s hair. The two of them finished each other off and made their way back my way to sleep the night. Iris went to the club early and returned with breakfast. We had muffins, bacon, a couple of hard boiled eggs and some apple juice along with coffee. We talked about home and other shit. While I was making deals, the place was not running as smoothly with everyone trying to second guess how I might react to a situation. When we all finished showering after another momentous porking session, Marissa and I got on the bike and made our way home. We stopped at Macon road to place another order for Iris and continued home. Marissa said we should keep Iris to ourselves for the time being. Greedy bitch. I saw my whole family. Nelson waved from the shop and motioned for me. I greeted all the children and wives and kissed my Aunt. These reunions were always good. I went down to the shop to check out what was up. I had a very important job that was going to be late. I was building a large power plant for the Free Helena group in direct violation of the agreement with the Memphis governing body. Free Helena was an embarrassing situation for the Mayor’s office and any deals to be made with them was to be cleared through his office first. After a quick meeting I took my Apprentice out to the wood storage area and slammed him up against a pile of white pine. [​IMG]

    I demanded to know why the job was behind and he quickly gave up the Old Machinist. Seems the old fucker was drunk most of the time I was gone. Nelson was too busy to notice till some crucial valve parts were fucked up. He was also using a tad too much ethanol for cleaning parts. Being forced to watch over a grown man was not something I looked forward to. Nelson and I took him out back and confronted him with his scrap. He started to get cute when he caught my fist to his jaw. I decided my old buddy Asshole had taught me a lesson about lecturing another dickhead who had just done the wrong thing. When I finished I told him to get the job finished and I would think about keeping him or throwing he and his dumb as a post bitch out on their asses. He was to work round the clock till it was done. In the end we had to take a couple of the valves off of Big Ruth to make the deadline. I was to travel with the stuff and had grown a beard during my time with Iris and had some fake glasses as a sort of disguise. We carried it up to Dyersburg and transferred it to a raft that belonged to a friend of the Rev. We sailed through the Memphis checkpoint and paid the toll. When we arrived in Helena the cargo was “confiscated” and the raft burned to make the show a little more convincing. It would be a couple of days to get the engine together and they already completed the boiler. The Apprentice left the day after me on a wagon to Red Banks with a load of bacon and nails. He had to walk another eight miles southward before cutting across on an arranged mule to the bridge at Helena.

    He and I had the engine together in record time and began to pressure test the boiler which had a few leaks, but none too bad. The Free Helena plumbers were not accustomed to the pressure requirements of our fittings, but they were closer than the Rev.’s crew was. We had the plant up and running and practically screamed when the lights went on. Free Helena was run by an elected guy they called the Colonel. He was very happy with the results and we shared a Cuban cigar I had been saving. I wanted to be on the good side of this group. Since all shipping on the river went through his control zone, he was into all kinds of action. I wanted to keep in cheap fuel and he wanted some of what I could get from Doc and other folks around Memphis. The Apprentice and I took a canoe from Helena to Greenville stopping along the way to eat. We were heading toward a wagon from New Orleans that had a load of coffee and other trade goods. It also had local trade to make our overland coffee trip seem normal. We dropped the coffee off with Lyla and made our way back to Raleigh. A man from the Mayor’s office was already there to see if I knew anything about a steam plant which was pirated from a Dyersburg merchant setting up shop in Vicksburg. I expressed my shock and sorrow for the poor sap for losing his engine, but didn’t seem to be of much help beyond that. Free Helena was lit like a tree and Memphis suspected it was one of my plants. I had to tread lightly to keep them from being aware of my involvement. I gave the Apprentice a huge bonus which allowed him to leverage an apartment in midtown and a motorcycle. He was going to make a good partner for us all.

    Nelson had his eye on a truck. An old one, but it had been modernized a little. It had a six cylinder engine which would drink fuel, but it would be useful when we had to haul some of the larger engine parts. Free Helena had one thing going for it. Methane gas. They had tons of the stuff and pulled it in from god knows where in Texas. It would allow us to do more of our own welding. We could also run the truck on it if we converted it right. But I really thought it would be good for cooking. We had to keep running the shipments through Dyersburg, but it kept Memphis off my back. The Colonel met me there once or twice to make other deals. He was really a nice guy, but he didn’t like the Mayor of Memphis. He was threatening the Mayor with a blockade if trade restrictions weren’t lifted. I am fast being thrust into the position of being a back stabbing mother fucker. But I have to agree with the Colonel with his views on trade. I knew a friend of Doc’s who was planning to run against the Mayor of Memphis in the next election. The Colonel and I hatched a plan to make life a little more difficult for the Mayor. He would begin the blockade after announcing it on the radio. Till now the shit between Free Helena and Memphis had been behind closed doors. Now it was in the open and some very disconcerting facts were coming out about the government of Memphis. Some bids were examined and the entire concession lottery was declared invalid so my Aunt lost her spot on Mud Island and on Beale Street. She was pissed, but when Memphis tried to hit her up for the rest of the rent on those spots she became enraged.

    It wasn’t long before most of Memphis was after the Mayor’s head. He took off and a hastily thrown together election resulted in Doc’s friend landing the job. My Aunt was appointed to a city council position as were several other’s from around town. Going over the city’s books yielded a plan of deception that got some people killed including the former sheriff and some trade officials. A short but deadly witch hunt with a few bodies up for display on the Mid America Mall. A reminder of how fucked up things were and how long it has been since we had this kind of shit. It was a mess. People in Memphis don’t like being fucked by the people in charge. Maybe this group would run things a little better. Raleigh was largely unaffected by the change except for getting a voice on some local decisions. Water was on everyone’s mind and the plants were getting ragged. The pumping stations that used to feed the city were being used to raise fish. We were pumping it out of the ground with a windmill and sometimes an electric motor when it was too calm. It filled a water tower just fine for our use.

    We had a hand operated pump for those times when shit just didn’t work right. While steam power is still not universal, it does provide some advantages. The parts are dirt cheap and you can run one on just about any kind of fuel. But there were still plenty of die-hards who insisted on using all the available fuels for inefficient generators left over from fucking World War two. The new Mayor was happy to keep our old contract for power active as well as the land we had annexed. But with the unstable climate I decided to use the Macon road property for rental and sharecropping. We would keep any production or storage inside the fence. The exception to this was a large parcel we annexed in a trade with the town of Brownsville. We needed some land for crop production that was large and remote. Finding experienced farmers to work it was easy and we had access to a repeater for communications. They would be raising corn and wheat. We could turn them into trade easily. We actually wanted the farms for producing a big part of our food. They could not possibly support our alcohol production or much of our trade, but I thought we might someday need our own food production system in effect so I expect to run it as a profit enterprise just the same. I kept the farmers pretty well armed and they could get a signal through with little effort so it’s working out pretty well. Kelly and I finally managed to get together in all of this. The Doc gave her a clean bill of health and she came home horny.

    I was in the shop when she walked in wearing shredded shorts and a tube top. She was shoving a banana down her throat which drew howls of laughter from Nelson and the guys. I actually blushed. I walked toward her in a manner that just barely made that ring in my nose visible. We got into smokin’ Joe and hauled ass to one of the houses on the other side of the hill. She had already set the place up and we would be alone for a good while. The banana was a ruse. She refused any oral work of any kind. It was one righteous porking though. Dinner was at the cafe where we planned to have a meeting about some of the bullshit. We were concerned with schooling the children and establishing new trade with more of Arkansas. I also wanted to trade more with the north end of the river system. Pork was a bit cheaper in Kentucky and liquor would bring top trade. Marissa and Amritte decided the best way to run the fabric business was to use the new loom to produce dye able white cotton fabric in a tight weave for multiple uses. The original loom would still be used for custom and other artistic work. They made a shitload of flags for the citizens of Raleigh who wanted to show off their particular trade interests. Of course she did it for a price, but was able to make about ten at a time with little waste. Larger flags like the Memphis city flag were a bit more involved.

    It was decided that we would get a couple of gas heating systems together for the winter. We also devised a plan to use the waste heat from the boiler and the smoke house to keep a bunch of buried barrels of water nice and hot. We used it for bathing and to preheat any emergency water we might need for getting a boiler started a little sooner. It sure as fuck beat the hell out of the hour it took to get a cold one going sometimes. The butchers wanted to take on about three hundred turkeys for the winter. We would keep them on the other side of the hill outside of the main fence under guard. They also wanted to try for two hundred pigs for September through January. It was double our load of pork, but we finally had the space for such an undertaking. This in addition to our normal portion of beef critters. Buffalo was being traded in Missouri, but we weren’t ready to tackle any new animals. We also plan to deal with about three hundred chickens. Our wine making has been a little slow with only a few hundred gallons for the entire winter. We planned to keep it till everyone else ran dry. We have just been too busy with all the other shit that’s been going on. We did keep our alcohol production up though with some of the clearest corn ethanol around. Doc was always holding a blank check for whatever we had. I kept some for other trades and processes. It’s extremely useful for leeching the oils out of long haired seedless buds.

    I kept the family out of my drug trade. They just didn’t have the savvy. Nor do they know what half the shit is sometimes. I thought it best they stay out of it. I had a handle on it with the help of Doc. Nelson helped me keep the weed profitable. We even traded to a group in Olive branch who was making paper with the stems and stalks we had leftover. Of course we sent them with an occasional bud that “slipped by”. I liked these folks because they kept a school in Holly Springs in paper and in business. I gave them a break in exchange for paper and peas. My Aunt was the lucky recipient of some concessions in the downtown lottery. We got a good spot on Mud Island that would not be as hard to keep up as the big one we had before. We got the riverboat model as well as the one of the Virginia (or Merrimac if you’re a Yankee like me). We would set it up for drinks and light gambling. We also got a booth on the walkway where I planned to sell off a little excess weedaroni. We didn’t fare so well on Beale Street, but with my business in Overton Square I was not too worried. Lyla was interested in having us broker some coffee for her to work with as we went north. It should be very profitable. I was again going to keep this deal under wraps to keep the peace.

    We were going to build a couple of boilers for some downtown buildings who have decided to heat the entire building instead of having each resident heat their own place and risk a fire. We also had some steam engine orders. A couple were to run a pumping station in Arkansas. We supplied power for some more homes and a couple of businesses during daylight hours. We shut down the homes during the day unless someone had a particular need which they traded dearly for. Amritte was still the queen of tea in Memphis. We set a dehydrator station up to get the stuff in raw form so we could experiment with flavors. It was a special favor to her as she made up for the bitch session with some excellent massage action. Amritte had a good head for figures so she usually kept track of things with my Aunt. The radio station was making a living and some dividends for those of us wise enough to invest from the beginning. We made up for the greed by broadcasting free for a couple of churches on Sundays. Gospel was cool. But I was glad when the rock & roll started again. I managed to trade for some great albums which we wore out at the station. We had a guy rig a string of cassette tape players to make an automatic station so we didn’t need a DJ at night. But lots of people offered to do it free anyway. We traded into another station in Collierville which already had a following at a hundred watts. With a couple of kilowatts we expected to reach halfway to Nashville and all the way to Chicago at night. We did hit Ohio every night, but the windy city would have to wait.

    From the sound of the Chicago station things were pretty much the same up there as we had it, but they had more people dying every winter. They also had way more gang problems than we saw in the south. Coal and wood were to be the major fuel sources or at least the trade ads seemed to indicate it. We have a lot of different fuels stored, but a shortage of anything could cost us so we try to make the most of what we have. We had some trouble finding fuel oil for about two weeks and I wanted to avoid getting into my gasoline so we ended up using kerosene and ethanol but the mixture was always off, chart and all. Probably because you could never count on the quality of any fossil fuel extracts. Sugar was always on the list to trade for. We used it for everything under the sun. We traded for sorghum molasses from Alabama. It’s one of the few good things that come from there. The people are very suspicious of anybody like me with my Yankee accent. I am easily frustrated in Alabama. They also have many of the same people in charge as were in place before all hell broke loose in the economy. Lots of corrupt politics will be preserved in Alabama for generations to come.

    But they traded in Nashville for coal and it filtered to Memphis pretty cheap so we were glad for it being there. Direct deals always seemed to come up short for us. We also got a lot from Kentucky which came from other areas too like Pennsylvania. We wanted to expand on our trade with Free Helena since restrictions were lifted. To think I went through all the trouble over the power plant and now I can supply them with whatever they want. And they want plenty. The Colonel has a taste for brandy and coffee which I plan to keep plenty of. Our hydroponics houses have been making some beautiful tomatoes which my Aunt has been rendering into pasta sauce and trading on a continual basis. We are leveraging as much wheat flour as possible to make pasta and pizza dough with. Pizza kept forever and traveled well. And I love pizza. I keep an old Shakey’s pizza joint in compressed gas. Their oven is very efficient as they have nonstop orders and basically keep it running. It’s funny how some managers and even dishwashers were now the owners of the places they worked in. When the corporate parent died off, they claimed rights and city hall gave it to them. I guess some squatting pays off!
     
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  17. done
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 1, 2020
  18. Chapter 6

    Shakedown Cruising

    After three good shakedowns from Memphis to Vicksburg then back up to Cape Girardeau we were convinced the Raleigh Trader was ready. We hauled a few small barges on the last trip up north from Memphis so we felt confident. We only had one mishap when a series of batteries shorted out and forced us to cut our power consumption. Since we were already heading down river, we were able to make the repair in a few hours and had it fixed just in time to turn around at Natchez on our longest test cruise.
    [​IMG]
    We snagged a few large catfish along the way. The twin Big Ruths able to keep us at a nice clip all the way back to Memphis. Around some of the tight spots we use the outboards to keep steady, but Tina’s Old Man was confident and rarely called for thrust unless he got a Mark Twain. We also had about a dozen long bamboo poles from Alabama, which would serve as guidance or propulsion in tight times. I did not want to end up stranded.

    Kelly was going to run the kitchen and some of the bar operations for the official maiden voyage to St. Louis. We decided to go north just in case something happened along the way, we could get the boat back to Memphis easily. The trip to St. Louis went very well. We had a little band that played some country and a little Rock and Roll. After ten, the band dismantled and we went to taped music or if a radio station had a good program, we blasted it. An upstairs room was set up for card games while the rooms down below were playing some dance tunes. A couple of guys were playing Blues on the forward end. Sitting among the cargo it was like a scene from an old movie. I kept a horribly bright arc lamp forward of the wheel house, but it was a pain in the ass to deal with, so we opted for a couple of sets of fog lamps and automotive headlights. With a panel of switches in the wheel house and an auxiliary panel behind the bar, we could throw a beam in any direction. We also had guns stashed in a few places. I had one in a place I only shared with Nelson. Amritte took the trip with Kelly this time, leaving Marissa at home with the brats. They put the finishing touches on some areas like the upper head and the wall coverings in the two large rooms.

    The Captain’s quarters were really nice with a sky light and lots of sound deadening cloth on the walls. The upper deck rooms were done as the Red, White and Blue Rooms and the lower deck were in Wood, Leather, and one like an Indian Opium bed. The rest of the rooms had folding beds and sparse decoration. The two small rooms with the bunk beds were done in a dark fabric that hid the dark colors the coal dust and oil would make. The crew quarters were very limited, but the crew was paid well. We had two main boiler operators and two main coal handlers, but they could all trade places if needed.
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    The Apprentice trained the engine room crew and did a pretty good job of it. We had plenty of guys, with all on twelve hour shifts that allowed for good coverage in the daylight hours as well as the night time when we usually slowed to half speed and lit the hell out of the immediate area to keep assholes from jumping aboard. I had the lower edges of the sides lined with barbed wire to fuck up the ones we didn’t see. It was well concealed near the water line and painted so it didn’t make the boat look too menacing. The signs, paint and lights kind of drew your attention away from the waterline.

    We had onboard for this trip no less than the Mayor of Memphis himself. Doc came aboard with his wife for a medical conference in St. Louis. It was more like a swap meet for drug makers. He wanted some of the new antibiotics from Michigan and folks up North wanted southern herbs. Not to mention coke and opium. I was not involved in that end of it, unfortunately. We also had a couple of tons of corn meal and barrels of brandy and beer with a healthy locker full of smoked and dried meat. I had a cooler full of thin sliced bacon for trade with the hotel owners for rooms. It usually worked well as we in the south raise fatter pigs with more fat run off, for other dishes. Lard trades well, but hams and bacon rule.
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    A couple of other traders from Memphis and Mississippi were in other rooms. We filled all twenty of the upper deck rooms the first day we advertised on the radio. Since Memphis decided to cancel gambling, again, we offered a higher class alternative to crossing the bridge to gamble in Arkansas. We wanted to keep the games friendly so we only allowed a few totally private games. The Mayor of Memphis was into me for another year on Mud Island while I still owed him a couple of dozen hams and some 12 volt bulbs. Doc took me up to the wheel house for a sample of some refined opium he had. It was a very small hit and had to be placed on top of a pile of pot ashes in my pipe. I finished my hit and he did one while I was having to blow chunks. I ran to the aft platform so I could puke all over the paddles as the water churned the whole mess up.

    After I puked the sensation was like a rocket took off inside my skull. I went back to the plot house and laid back to float for a little while. Kelly came over and helped me to the chartroom/bedroom. I laid down and looked up at the stars through the distortion of the plastic dome above me. Kelly gave me a rub down and I fell asleep dreaming only of pleasure. I woke at about three in the morning when I heard the engines slow to a crawl. I looked up to see the thickest fog I had seen since San Francisco and the Valley of the Moon. I switched the motor-generator on and turned the handle to run the carbon arc tips into each other. The light was blinding as it reflected off the fog, but we could see one shoreline at a time and make progress. It was nearly seven in the morning before the fog began to lift. We would be late for St. Louis if we didn’t do some hustling. We used the outboards around the bends and narrows but kept the steam power at maximum. The paddles seemed to lose efficiency at a certain rpm so we reached our maximum up river speed of twelve to sixteen knots. If we had the assist from the speedboat we could pick up another six or so. But it seemed like we would be only slightly late and shot past a scheduled water stop to keep our time. We were two hours late. But we put on a good show. We already had a full complement of roomed passengers, but we were able to trade for the hammock racks for the trip back to Memphis. The hammocks were a good idea and could only be offered if good weather was expected.
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    Kelly, Amritte and I checked into a hotel that overlooked the mooring where the Raleigh Trader was tied up. We had lunch in our room after a long awaited session of carnal delights. Kelly was nearly insatiable. Lunch consisted of broiled hen with apple pie and Bagel bread. I also had a salad with my usual favorite Bleu cheese dressing. It was OK, but nobody seems to appreciate bleu cheese north of Baton Rouge. It was frustrating. St. Louis was a great place to pick up more than a couple of kegs of Yankee beer. We were going to stay for two days to load more coal and hang on for a couple of barges and smaller boats to pull to Memphis.

    The trip down river should go quickly as the trial runs had been. The girls and I caught a carriage and went to the arch. It was really bigger than shit and was a bitch to climb to the top of. The view was excellent and we got several pictures. I was thankful that we still had coal when we got to St. Louis. It was obvious that we didn’t have a big enough supply and would have to cut into other space for fuel and space wasn’t going to come easily. We still had a long way to go before we could use fuel oil or gasoline to keep the boilers going. There were lots of reasons, but my basic feeling was that coal was safe and very cheap. I decided to look into setting up several coal depots up and down the river. Though it was the up river trips that were going to eat coal and Nelson suggested towing a coal barge. But with so many towns being revived by the Mississippi these days, I shouldn’t have too much trouble with getting coal. They strip mine the shit all over. Entire counties in Alabama have been stripped to the bone. But the resources went to the highest bidder and the rest be damned which is just standard Alabama rules as I have learned. A state full of assholes as far as I can tell. Leastwise in the city people I’ve met. The guy from Natural Bridge was a prime example of decent people in Alabama. I had a couple of coal connections in Alabama that were using the renovated rail system which has been really popular since it was organized. I saw a train that ran on a Chevy V8 and pulled about twenty trailers.

    Tina’s Old Man and I looked over the chart once in the early phases of the project and thought of several places that would be good coal stops. Since we had to slow down on some areas anyway it made sense to us that we should arrange our stops there. I decided we would take more fresh water and some kind of filter so we could possibly use the Mississippi water in the boiler if we had to. But this would be an extreme emergency situation as I can only imagine what the muddy water would do to the inside of a boiler. Amritte traded for cassettes of Spanish stuff for Marissa. She was able to get a few Spanish shows on short wave, but she was longing for home and wanted some recordings of Northern stations. My oldest son hears Spanish Gospel everyday while napping. He says some pretty interesting shit sometimes. Kelly was trading fabric for dye. She found a huge supply of sewing needles which we could easily machine into the right fit for the sewing machines. We run several in the newest building on our property to be saved from being torn down in favor of the usable land. It was a frame structure on pedestals so we could plant shitloads of food crop. They convinced me that making clothes and shoes was where the trade would be. I relinquished but reserved the rest of the land for tomatoes and fragrant flowers.

    I wouldn’t even allow a clothesline to block the sun from the flowers which kept us in honey. I treat the bees very well and keep them warm in winter and fed year round one way or another. I picked up some seeds for different flowers at a trader’s place downtown. Doc got all the stuff he wanted and more. He wanted some of the stuff put in the safe which was already crammed with weed, hash and other shit. I met with a boat maker who had a few wide pontoon boats. They were aluminum and light and would make perfect barges. I talked him into kind of renting one to me to tow back to Memphis loaded with freight. I said I would bring it back loaded with different freight. We toked on the peace pipe and settled on a good trade deal. He was not only a boat maker, he was a cargo handler now and I had a free barge to tow to New Orleans next week. I went to the local radio station with the most reach and had them broadcast this latest deal for shipping trade goods to Memphis and other points south. I traded some livestock papers for a couple of big tubes for one of the Hams back in Memphis. He wanted to do a little broadcasting and wanted everybody to hear. He is already using battery power to kick out a kilowatt.

    But he wanted five. I picked up some craft supplies for my Aunt and cut a deal for a big box of ground black pepper that was too good to pass up. God only knows how we use pepper around the place. Not to mention the matches. Wooden matches dipped in wax were VERY good trade. I still had my Dad’s Zippo which I always carried along with his pocket watch. I used to wear a wristwatch till it quit. It worked great in the dark. Oh well. I think about Dad a lot. I guess it’s because I’m a Dad now. I have one already calling me that. I have to maintain a constant check on my son’s upbringing. The women would be raising a total wimp if I let them. They had him playing house in front of the little kiddy stove one day when I decided it was time to let him get a little more familiar with being a boy. I tried to take him fishing, but he is still too little to deal with the extreme patience that’s got to be there for the task. I picked up a couple of things for him including a cap pistol with reams of caps. He would be a hell raiser back home. Amritte and Kelly came up to me in the market district all excited. They dragged me down the street to a little shop. Inside was a little old woman sitting at the most convoluted sewing machine I had ever seen. Several bobbins of thread and a strange base.

    It was an embroidering machine. She was making cloth signs and flags. She was also putting ownership marks on shirts and such. She had business all around her. She was interested in retiring. She had already traded herself into a nice apartment overlooking the river and was tired of the business. She wanted to spend her remaining time preaching and healing. Whatever. She wanted a price and a half for the entire store’s contents. The girls were drooling over all the colored thread and attachments that went with the thing. She also had boxes of blank name tags and many different styles of lettering. I told the girls we needed to talk about it. Kelly decided to let Amritte deal this one with me. She stayed in the shop while Amritte and I walked back to the hotel. We were off to look at the balance sheets for the cloth operation. I was unconvinced as to the value of lettering everything not to mention the problems associated with carrying all the shit with us. We no sooner closed the door when she was all over me. Amritte was really into sex and took to it like a business. She made certain whomever she was with was having a good time. Yes I agreed to the deal and made arrangements to send the old biddy a ham every month for the next two years which always seems to make a deal sweeter. She also had a car and needed fuel. I made a deal for two barrels every three months for the next year and an option on fuel oil. I’ve made a few deals with little old ladies and they really deal on the comfort line.

    We threw in some blankets and some of the good wax candles. When we got back to the shop Kelly had put names on the shirts of the crew and was trying to make a menu out of cloth for the kitchen on the boat. She did a flag for a guy and traded for some Eastwood on 16mm. I hired some bums to move the shit to the boat paying them in Gin, cigarettes and corn meal. The machine was heavy as hell and made of cast iron. It ran from about a third horse electric motor or could be run manually. The menu looked pretty good especially after Kelly had it framed and hung it at the door to the dining room on the boat. I was paying a few slabs of bacon and a lot of booze for power from the dock owner so I was happy to see the lights of the boat as we ate dinner in the hotel. We were leaving for Memphis at noon the next day then for New Orleans two days later stopping in Helena, Vicksburg, Baton Rouge and a couple of water stops and one for coal in Natchez. The weather was cool the next morning but warmed up by noon and we shoved off with the barge and a couple of small fishing boats that were catching dinner while hitching on for a free ride. One of the local reporters got a picture of us leaving.
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    I stayed in the chartroom and occasionally took the wheel for Tina’s Old man. We had twenty new passengers for the trip to Memphis and others who were continuing to New Orleans. Those who traded for hammocks had to wait till long after dark and then only on the lower deck. The upper deck would be home to dinner and then to some friendly card games and a smaller round of Bingo. Later I played the Dirty Harry flick on the portable video rig. A couple of the card players stopped to watch and we pulled in a couple of deck lounges and slabbed out. We laughed at the figures they talked about. I couldn’t really remember what things cost and how dollars worked sometimes. Nobody was going to trust money for a long time. Too many people ended up dead over it. I heard some dreadful news about Boston late that night on AM radio. The Chicago station was all about it with stories of neighborhood wars and whole blocks getting burned down by the feuding gangs. New York was finally getting back into the swing, but it paid the price with huge gang wars during the crash and food wars after. It made me appreciate the South. Europe was semi peaceful as we heard on short-wave. The Commies were good at managing nothing and had dominant positions everywhere except the British Isles. Italy was another place where the Commies were less powerful and they knew it. I guess nobody wants to have to deal with a bunch of angry Degos.

    Kelly and Amritte were already asleep in the chart room when I got up there. I didn’t want to disturb them so I hung a hammock out on the observation deck and had a last toke before closing my eyes on the stars. The guy at the helm was a buddy of Tina’s Old Man and was the only other person I knew to drive his speed boat. He seemed capable. It was about two when he shook me awake. He could see fires on the shore and he thought he heard noise in the water. I rang the engine room and had them scramble the rest of the crew quietly. I grabbed my gun and woke Kelly. She was hell with a crossbow and I wanted her frosty. She was in her sweats and a T-shirt with perky nipples ready to bust the fabric. She grabbed her weapon, cocked it and headed to the top of the chart house and the Arc Lamp. God damn she looked good. I had all the lights turned on at one bell and the Arc Lamp lit the shore like daylight. We turned back about five guys heading toward the boat and one who was climbing aboard aft. The asshole was tossed overboard after a couple of rounds with the coal mans shovel. Our main coal guy was a big black man who could use a shovel well, he just wouldn’t carry a gun.

    I hit a couple of them in the water with a pellet gun and Kelly hit another with blunt headed arrow. Not lethal, but it slammed your skin hard. And it did a number on the asshole she hit in the shoulder as he was trying to board. We wouldn’t find out till next morning that they got away with a barrel of gasoline and some boxes of canned goods. I was pissed, but glad it wasn’t worse. I decided that decoy packages were necessary and shifting the stock would discourage being staked out by thieves. The trip to New Orleans was going to be important and river piracy could really fuck it all up. I decided that we needed more security. I wanted help we could radio to in a time of need and maybe even an escort boat. To keep the boat safe would take a heavily armed escort with bright lights and capable men. The Colonel was the man to talk to. Not only did he have the military hardware, but his guys knew the river and all of its hiding places. He knew a lot of the pirates too. But there are always rogues who will defy everyone and go for the gold. They end up dead or well off. One guy jumped a boat and jumped off with a case of shotgun shells which are worth more than gold these days.

    The hams used gold and any other precious metal to keep their craft going. One used our vacuum pump and repaired an amplifier tube. It was huge, but seemed to work well on CB. The Colonel’s guys were experimenting with a large gun for the river bridge area. It was made of metal pipe and loud as hell. It fired nails, rocks or whatever you stuffed in the barrel. I decided to put an electric fence around the side near the main deck. It will be hardly noticed in the day and invisible at night. I traded for electric fence shockers whenever I saw one. Most were easy to fix if they broke anyway. We pulled into Cape Girardeau just after dawn for water and a little coal and to swap some passengers. We ate breakfast on the boat and pretty much stayed onboard. My Aunt was on the two meter telling me about people and freight that would be going South with us. We pulled out into the river and finished our trip south. One guy at the cape couldn’t believe the difference in the boat. We worked our asses off to make it special. The Mayor was really happy with the room he stayed in and the overall service. Kelly made sure he always had a drink or something to eat. Doc stayed in his room or got high with me in the wheel house. We sat aft of the chart room overlooking the paddle wheels and smoked a healthy portion of some famous VA hydro. That and a little line or two set me just right. As we passed Lepanto the kitchen put the finishing touches on the last meal of the trip.

    They decided on a buffet which answered my munchies just right with fried chicken, ribs and catfish. Not to mention the breads and fruit they had been saving along with cobbler and ice cream. We served the last of the beer keg we tapped when we left so I guess we figured things OK. Besides I still had plenty of kegs of Yankee beer I traded for in St. Louis. I was real glad to get Bud again. The real Bud. I planned to keep that for the trip to New Orleans. It would make a lot of passengers happy. When we put in at Mud Island I talked with Tina’s Old Man and told him I needed a ride down the river in a hurry. We got into his speed boat and fired up. Then he started the engine. We arrived upriver just in sight of the big Aluminum bridge. The Colonel was happy to see me and asked about the boat. I told him about the few assholes who ripped us off which sent him into psycho mode. He was quite nuts about river thieves. He controlled the river all the way down to the Louisiana border, but left the north end up to Memphis and whomever up north wanted it. The result is a lot of gaps in security along the way. But when you were south in Louisiana shores the story was different with organized thieves and vigilante armies on the take.

    For the trip to New Orleans he would supply a fore and an aft security boat. He would be staying in the White Room with whatever female company I thought appropriate. He was kind of put out when I said I wasn’t a Pimp. But I told him I take care it though. I made sure it was someone who would work. It turned out to be a friend of Marissa who she met in her clothing trades several times and ended up going into business with. She was also a Latina, but a good deal more vulgar in her Spanish heritage with big lips and huge tits. She wore a high skirt and long legs with lots of long black as coal hair. My mind is like a camera where a beautiful woman was concerned. When we got back to Memphis I was greeted by Nelson who was smiling in front of the old Truck. The Marshall’s had recovered it and Nelson was able to keep the story about it blowing the engine. He told everybody that the Marshall just thought it was stolen and that he went and traded it back. The Marshall’s office now had two new mules and a couple of hams, we had a great truck. Gas was expected to be flowing pretty regularly so we planned to have plenty stocked up. I was not too sure about having a regular supply so we hoarded what we could. Nelson begged me to take him to New Orleans. I really wanted him to watch over things but he wanted to see The Fat Frenchman’s face as much as I did when he saw the Raleigh Trader.

    I wanted this trip to be profitable so we booked a lot of short line passengers who wanted to go to Vicksburg or Natchez. We planned a water stop just before the Arkansas River mixes into the Mississippi with its turbulence so we had a couple of folks booked for Rosedale. I had dinner with my Aunt and the Rev. He was going to Baton Rouge with us. He had a couple of wooden boxes full of candles and a couple of crates of nails. I wasn’t charging him for the trip, but I made him take the Leather room as I was calling it. The girls insisted it was the Western room. But leather was everywhere. It kept him on the bottom level and out of my hair for the most part. He was an OK guy, but a little overbearing on moral issues. And the trip to Louisiana was going to be a party. When dinner was finished I went out to the shop to talk with the guys. They were drinking a few mugs and fucking off. I lit up a Special joint which set a very conversational mood. The Machinist and the Apprentice were playing with the idea of flame throwing for clearing brush and combat with assholes trying to break in. They had a working model. It was frightening the way it threw a flame across the gravel next to the boiler house. The whole yard looked like daylight for a second or two.
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    It ran using a mixture of gasoline and fuel oil, which was fed by compressed air to a nozzle which threw the liquid outward through a tube with holes in it. It screamed like a whistling jet and looked totally frightening. I still prefer bullets. Marissa ran down from the store and begged to try it. She wanted to fry something so I put a pile of brush on the gravel and she let it go. The leaves and branches seemed to vanish away as ashes. It was quite colorful. Marissa was going on this trip while Amritte stayed back with the children. We liked them having at least one parent close by. Some time back I moved two groups on the property for the sole purpose of security. They take care of the dogs and horses too. I keep them in charge of a personal arsenal in addition to several caches on the grounds. One was so keen on his job that he called himself The Package. He was a real killer of a former Marine. He loved the flame-thrower, but was pushing for a portable unit. A portable would have a limited operation time. Maybe it would be enough so I gave the OK to build one. The Package was in charge and his second was a single guy who was a cop after a short college football run. The Package was married with a teenage son and an eight year old daughter. He kept a house near the power plant close to the store.

    The other house was up on the hill and held three other guys with strong constitutions. They do a lot of sparing and contest sports on the grounds and at several stadiums and schools around the three states. It’s a total free for all in sports these days with school teams playing for trade and playing hard. For a price you can watch really savage shit, but I had my fill of that in the streets of Boston during the riots. I got caught on the street a few times and had to run or fight my way out. But my security guys rarely compete together. I won’t allow less than two on the grounds at any time. They want to recruit more guys, but we can’t afford it right now. This has them pissed at me a little, but they have already heard that speech from me in many forms. They are fortunate and they know it. Besides we have some awesome basketball games on the property. And these guys can chop the living shit out of wood. One guy is huge and has chicks falling all over him. The Package has rules and the guys follow them, but I have seen them in rooms on the Square as well. They worked hard and partied hard. They were my kind of guys. But too much into health food for me.

    Nelson showed me the trade plan for two weeks in advance which looked pretty good. It was obvious my Aunt helped him with it when I saw some of the shit he was trading with. She had sold more than she had in craft goods so she was scrambling to make the difference up with a good deal of work on her part. She was our best person for selling cloth products. She worked in the garment district in New York in the sixties before moving to Memphis. Food was her passion and she ran the cafe like a ship. Real tight. Nelson bought his way to New Orleans and was on the phone in no time trying to connect with his people in the Big Easy. He had some family down there as well. Doc was staying behind to tend to business. I had the unexpected surprise of Saint Patrick on the manifest. He was in a Blue room with a foxy guest. He had a cargo of brandy and Irish whiskey for trade. In a Red room was the Mayor of Collierville. He was into bricks and made really good ones. We had made a few deals when we upgraded the boiler house. He also does concrete work and was on the way to Baton Rouge to trade bricks for raw materials like lime and mortar. Thankfully he was only carrying about ten on this trip. Bricks can quickly add up. He was a big buyer of mules and used them to drive his process. He wants to get into raising horses and kind of renting them out for trade. Seemed like a good idea to keep rotating stock where horses and I are concerned. By the time I make the whole loop, I might not get the same horse for a year or so. By then maybe the first horse will have forgotten me. But they are truly from hell and I am sure that the son of a bitch would remember me. I hate horses.

    The remaining rooms were reserved for some people from around who wanted to travel with a little style. That and the gambling. The seated passengers were arranged all over. We tried to make the trip as comfortable as possible, but it was late in the night when we shut down the lower deck room for folks who wanted to sleep. We also had benches all around for those taking a real short trip or who weren’t too particular about traveling as long as it wasn’t walking. We were going to tow the pontoon barge there and back. Down it would be carrying Memphis beer, corn, lumber, and cotton fabric in huge rolls. We still used the outboards for tight spots and could make really good time using them in bursts. That night I slept with my daughter and oldest son in the Opium bed while the girls got their shit together for the trip. I had a message from Lyla to pick up fifty or a hundred pounds of coffee if the deal was good. But without Chicory. I preferred plain coffee myself. Doc gave me a short list and the guy at the Hash Pub gave me cause to look for some entertaining shit. I hoped to pick up some Rosaries and a couple of other things for the Deacon who ran the Catholic schools in Memphis. Marissa was translating some Spanish comedy show on the shortwave in the living room, which made all my wives laugh.

    They were sharing hits from Amritte’s hookah. It was a nice pipe she managed to get in trading on one of her tea excursions. Marissa was really looking forward to New Orleans while Kelly didn’t seem too excited. She worked her ass off on the St. Louis trip and this trip would be twice as long. But she made good trade. Amritte was embroidering the boat’s napkins and towels with Raleigh Trader the next morning. We were shoving off the next day and wanted to make this trip special. The Apprentice had set up the embroidering machine and said it ran fine but used a lot of power. Thankfully it didn’t get too much regular use. My Aunt won a drawing for a painting at the Brooks Museum. It was by Zelda Fitzgerald and looked like fat pink dancers. She loved it and put it on display in the cafe. She got to keep it for a year.

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    The Butchers were processing deer that week. We did a lot in deer meat especially near winter time. The nights were cool, but the mid day sun was still hot and the breeze from the river was going to feel great. I loved piloting the boat, but didn’t care much for doing it at night. I left that to Tina’s Old Man and his buddy. I was thinking about my folks. I remember some of the times in the sixties when they would throw parties that seemed to go on for days. We would paint the walls a different color every month or so. We also painted peace signs and other hippie shit. I really missed my folks at these times. I think they would be proud of me. I know Mom would be just as strange about my wives as my Aunt was, but I take good care of my family. God how I miss my Mom and Dad. But they’re gone. And I am anything but alone these days.

    St. Patrick is loading us down with a bunch of brandy including a couple of bottles of Aleister Absinthe which he has been aging for some time and had earmarked for the owner of one of the bordellos in the French quarter. I picked up a bottle for the boat and for the passengers who wanted something different. St. Pat also had an interesting liqueur made from some kind of brandy and purple haired buds. It was a genuine ass kicker from the first sip to the floor where I landed after a night of the stuff. I have a weak spot for new ways to catch a buzz. A bottle I plan to share with the Fat Frenchman and his brother is stored away for our meeting in Baton Rouge. We’re going to make an overnight stop there anyway to let the boat rest and check for cylib=nder distortion. I am still a bit uneasy with the steam engines and have sacrificed some valuable cargo space for spare engine parts. I plan to drop them off in Natchez just to keep them handy. If we must, we can make the trip upriver with only one steam engine and the outboards, but I really don’t want to have to. It’s a lot of extra work. At least we will have some spare parts at our coal depot if we need them. Amritte was sending a load of tea, but it was a small one for a couple of trades with a small list of people.

    Nelson had the corner on the music market and had a case of demo tapes and such he was going down with to promote some local Memphis musicians, some he played with. His ax was in a shop down on Highland a few blocks from the Cue with some kind of squealing problem so he was not planning on playing much this trip. He had a few crates of trade goods which he planned to use for more coke and other shit. We were also carrying a shitload of canned meat from Jackson which I was going to trade for everything from coal to shrimp. Smoked meat was also a good trader. But then it always was. I planned to pick up some Southern Comfort to go the Jack Daniel’s I was hoarding. We flew the flags of Memphis and Raleigh from the pilot house. The boat was never alone as either Tina and her Old man stayed there or Nelson and his Old Lady or me and Kelly. We didn’t want any surprises. Since the guys in the shop had yet to finish their portable flame thrower, we had to rely on guns for defense. I liked guns. They were readily respected.

    I arrived at the boat before dawn with the Apprentice who headed down to the boiler to light the fire. He was going to try lighting it with natural gas to see if steam could be had quicker. It worked pretty well and we had full steam in a little over an hour. I was on the radio in the chart room when the bell rang on the main steam gauge. I reached up and gave the whistles a healthy tug. I’m sure Memphis appreciated the seven AM wake up call. Kelly arrived with Nelson in the truck and a load of food for the galley. She was bitching about all the work ahead of her which always pissed me off. I told her to shut the fuck up and take on someone else if she needed so much help. She took the truck back to Raleigh for another load while Nelson oiled the engines down and ran some tests on the valves. We moored the boat the same way they did a century ago on the cobblestones across from Mud Island. We even tied up to the same iron rings they used way back then. The barge we planned to tow was beside us being loaded with lumber and other trade goods. I told everyone who wanted to ship stuff on it that they best be sure it was waterproof as we never knew when rain would be upon us.

    Weather was still a little hard to predict but I knew a front was working its way down toward us from Kansas and Oklahoma thanks to the Hams. They said we might see rain before we saw Natchez. But it would be dark by then and we could collect some really fresh water for the boilers and save a little trade. At eleven I gave the whistles a long and two shorts to signal all concerned that we had an hour before we pulled out. The barge was already in position at the Mud Island mooring waiting for us to back the riverboat out and hook up as we entered the river. We also had a small flotilla of canoes and other small boats towing along for various destinations south. Some would also be riding back up with us on the return trip if they managed to catch up with us as we cruised by. The Colonel came up to the chartroom holding a roll of soundings his guys had made all the way to Baton Rouge. They would come in handy if we needed to haul ass along the way. A couple of his small boats were tied up at Mud Island waiting to escort us. One had a metal shield and a big gun aimed forward and a smaller one pointed aft. They meant business. I remembered seeing one of them when it was being overhauled. It had thin steel strips on the bottom to deal with hard shit in shallow water. It was also a good idea when you had to jump a boat over logs.

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    Kelly and Marissa arrived with the truck and a last load of galley shit. One of the butchers would be taking the truck back home. The Package was unloading the last of the ammo from Smokin Joe which included a whole box of twelve gauge flares which saved my ass in the Caribbean. The passengers were waiting to board. We didn’t want them tripping all over the cobblestones so we borrowed a bunch of walkways and ushered them aboard. Two long blasts and we were casting off. We used push poles to gently guide the boat till it pointed toward the river. The paddles kicked up their usual deluge then stopped as we coasted past the barge. The lines were cast from the aft end and hooked up by a couple of the Colonels guys who were going to ride the barge till we were well underway. One guy would always be there on watch as well as one on the riverboat looking aft to keep the trade goods safe. We had adapted the aft tow hooks with springs from an old Impala so we wouldn’t get jolted while towing shit. It worked pretty well and we were easing out to the river at about a quarter speed. When we passed under the train bridge Tina’s Old man goosed the engines with more steam and we were up to full speed with little or no jerking. He was really getting the hang of the big boat but griped about it’s less than nimble handling.

    Kelly had lunch ready for us and brought it up to the wheel house. Tina’s old man and I had just finished a healthy joint so steak sandwiches really hit the spot with a couple of bottles of genuine Atlanta Coca Cola. The Memphis bottler never seemed to get the recipe right, each case tasted different from the next. Kelly had been doing a little trading and managed to nail down a case of the stuff along with some other things that made the Raleigh Trader a unique trip for everybody. She took on two other girls to help with serving and cooking so the galley ran well. One of the girls was a teenager from Catholic High who was very enthusiastic while the other was a friend of Amritte’s who traded tea in Mississippi. Marissa spent most of her time tending bar and getting people settled about the boat. The Colonel spent most of his time in the chartroom bitching at his people on the two meter radio. He took an occasional break to give us weather information and river conditions. We slowed to half speed as we passed under the Helena bridge.
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    A couple of his guys were pacing the length from the shacks at each end. He has reopened the bridge but still charges tolls. Some girls were tanning on a barge and jumped up to show off their tits when we steamed by. I naturally waved and gave them a whistle blast. It was time to take a walk around to check things out. Like my Navy days I instinctively went down the port side forward. I bumped into a couple of passengers who were on their way to their honeymoon in New Orleans. They couldn’t afford a room so they were going at it behind some freight. I told them to take it to the Leather room as I knew the Rev. would be playing cards all afternoon. I told him to stay out for a little while. I had a lot of respect for marriage and wanted them to remember their trip on the Trader. I even had Kelly bring them some wine and snacks. They were a cute couple so I knew she wouldn’t mind. A bunch of people were trying their luck at fishing. I guess the trip might be a little boring if you aren’t into gambling. I saw a plane flying over us for a little while. I guess we are an oddity of sorts. He came in low and waggled before heading west. Probably headed for Little Rock or Dallas. I went down to the boiler room to see things and found my Apprentice shoveling the shit out of coal. It seems he hadn’t transferred it to the staging hopper soon enough and was running the boiler on gas. I hadn’t even noticed the difference in speed which was only slight.

    I grabbed a shovel and got to work. We had the staging hopper full in no time and he began helping the crewmen stoke the fire. I didn’t bitch at him. Instead I told him to meet me in the chartroom in an hour for a toke. He smiled and kept shoveling. I took a swig of water from the cooler Kelly kept down there and climbed up the ladder to the main deck. To catch the fresh breeze and blow off a little of the coal dust, I went forward. The crew stacked the freight against the boiler house so the front end of the boat would be clear. A couple of the passengers were playing tunes under the winch riggings while the Mississippi gurgled below the brow. The Colonel’s lead boat was ahead of us, but still within sight. Not a sign of bullshit from the shore. Only some fishermen and small boat traffic. The lower deck lounge was full of people watching an old Bogey war movie on a 16MM projector one of the hams set up for us. Marissa was shuttling drinks and marking tab cards, but took the time to flash me a smile, a very seductive smile at that. The little Catholic girl was handing out pillows and snacks. Everybody seemed to be having a nice time.

    The next deck was bustling with gambling. We had a few friendly games for very low stakes, but the Rev. was at a table where the stakes were pretty high. It was a private game so I avoided any contact, but had to snicker when I heard him raise a mule. He plays a mean game and I totally avoid betting against him. I wish we could put a pool table on this tub, but what’s the point if the balls roll around. I headed back up to the wheel house but stopped short to look aft toward the barge just in time to see them changing the watch. I guess the most boring part of the trip would be the barge watch. The Colonel had finally finished his bitching and left for his room. I went into the chartroom and sat in the big easy chair to roll up a “Gar”. I listened to Memphis Radio playing a “Longshot” of Doors tunes while we approached the turbulent water that the Arkansas river dumped into the Mississippi. The Apprentice walked in just in time as I would have lit the thing without him. We opened the vents and toked while talking about the pros and cons of converting the riverboat to gas power. Sure there were running Chevy engines around for meager trade, but gasoline was still not totally common and I didn’t want to have to mix fuels around. Yea, I could get it from Arkansas and other places after it filtered from Texas and Oklahoma, but for a craft this big I wanted reliable power that I could easily get by cutting down trees if I needed to. We talked for a while about modernizing our power plants at home and other ramblings. He had a Jones for his girl back home. He had to relax and enjoy the trip since New Orleans would be a blast this time.

    I called down to Kelly for some beer which she sent up via one of the little black kids she took on. Her branch of boat operations had the greatest number of people and she knew how to keep them moving. Since his watch was up I let The Apprentice get a little drunk. He was one of those people who really let it fly when he drank. I got to hear his opinion on all kinds of things. Nelson laughed his ass off when the Apprentice spoke up about The Package and his goons. Evidently they had cornered him with weapons one night as he was going to the boiler house. It pissed him off and he wasted no time expressing it. I like the Apprentice. He was good with a gun and kept his thoughts clear to his job. We heard a commotion below which turned out to be one of the passengers catching a huge catfish which I practically jumped down the ladder to see. It must have weighed forty pounds. It was a fucking monster. Too bad I didn’t get a picture, but I have to quit wasting film, on stupid shit. We carried it to the galley and cut it into steaks which Kelly cooked and served up for dinner. It was terrific. I was really into this riverboat thing, but fuck, it was costing me plenty of good trade. I was not going to break even on this trip unless we could conserve fuel and make some good trades.

    We expected to eat this trip anyway. It was just a show. I got a good, no a great deal on the boat in the first place so I expected the trade to go up and down a couple of times. I could not afford to keep this thing going at a loss so I was careful about how we tabbed the passengers and especially the gamblers. Most of the bigger gamblers were trading coal to us anyway. The boat took a part of each pot and I was NOT eating free drinks. We had to shut down one of the bathrooms due to a clog. I had to go on the PA and remind everyone not to flush any foreign objects or they would be out another one. We had three, but the upper deck unit was tied to the second so we could lose all sanitary service if the lower unit jammed. We didn’t have a snake to work it out so it would have to wait till we reached Natchez to fix it. I had to argue with one of the passengers for nearly half an hour about livestock. He wanted to have me haul pigs and chickens to Baton Rouge from Saint Louis. I really didn’t want any live cargo. Live cargo moves and shits. Who needs it? But he just kept flapping his lips about it till I could escape from him. I had Kelly take a bottle of beer to him later. I really don’t want to piss people off, but I can only take so much bullshit. This boat was a floating party house. Who wants the smell of goat shit in their living room? The Trader stopped in Vicksburg for water and for topping off the coal.

    I went ashore to make certain the coal I had arranged for the trip back was still there. We were fortunate to find an honest guy. He was a regular coal dealer to the Vicksburg city hall and had a good reputation. He had a place near the river and a warehouse right on it with tons of coal available. He had a particular Jones for good Bourbon so I cut the deal for some Jack and a couple of hams. I love hams. They cut through so much trade shit and just seem to open the door. I also managed to pick up some salt while we loaded coal. Seems Kelly and my Aunt both forgot we might need some for the trip. We lost a couple of the small boats that were tied to us. Their destination was here or a little up river. We might be able to make a little better time with less weight, but it was not a hell of a lot anyway. Nelson was shoveling coal when I got back and we were ready to go. I gave the whistle a couple of long blasts and we were underway. One poor slob missed the boat so I had one of the Colonel’s boats pick him up. I didn’t raise any hell with him, but I could tell he felt like an idiot. We had a water stop scheduled for Natchez so we decided to haul ass down river to see what kind of time we could make. We had a lot of twists and turns to negotiate so Tina’s Old Man stayed on the radio to the Colonel’s men in the lead boat. It was getting late and darkness would be upon us in an hour or so. We managed a good seventeen knots at some points, but didn’t take any risks. Nelson and I had to break up a fight on the forward deck between a few guys having a private card game. One guy just wouldn’t quit lunging at another so I pitched his ass overboard. I got on the radio and had the rearward small boat pick him up. I was putting him out at Natchez.

    I don’t like troublemakers and I don’t want them on the boat. The Colonel wanted to shoot him, but I didn’t need that kind of reputation either. Tina’s Old Man blasted the whistle as we came around the bend to Natchez. It was dark, but all around the city dock was lit with lantern light and a few neon signs. About fifty or so people were on the dock waiting for their shipments from Memphis. We were to put in for an hour, but Marissa wanted to unload some cloth and begged me to wait for her. I told her to listen for the whistle and haul ass back when she heard it. She took a cart from the dock and had it filled with white bundles. I saw her disappear into the city with her Latin sidekick. We felt a little drizzle on the way down, but not enough to collect so I traded for a fill of fresh water. I got the Dock Keeper stoned and left him with a small bottle of Brandy. Saint Patrick was shadowing the people who were unloading his trade goods to a prearranged dealer in Natchez who was loading us down with sugar and blackberry juice. I also traded for a dozen sacks of corn meal and flour which I would get a good trade for in New Orleans. Nelson was cracking the whip on the loading platform and I was ready to get underway. Marissa was coming down the street with a cart full of dye and colored thread. She also picked up some children’s films and some adult super eights for me. Marissa was a very understanding wife. Kelly on the other hand was steadily bitching about the galley. She had the extra help she needed, but I guess she just likes to gripe. I told her to shut down the food at nine so she could rest up for the breakfast shift. I offered to pitch in, I can cook a ton of eggs and sausage. I got strapped with that chore in the Navy a few times. Tina’s Old Man’s Buddy was taking over the helm while we headed for Baton Rouge.

    It was a cool evening so I opened a couple of the steam valves to radiate some heat into the rooms. I decided to burn one more with Tina’s Old Man before closing the chartroom door for the night. He really missed his speedboat and griped a little about the slowness of this tub, but he couldn’t help but agree that it was nice to have a bed to sleep in which is exactly how a recruiter got me into the Navy. That and how the chicks would dig the uniform. Too bad he lied about everything else. I did get some cool duty stations so it wasn’t a bad four year hitch. But it was definitely over for me at the four year mark. It all came crashing down anyway about two years after I got out. There were rumors about crews getting stranded at sea for weeks waiting for tenders to refuel them. Tina’s Old Man and I had a little in common in that he was a Merchant Mariner. It was a good while back. He liked going out to sea and I suggested he hop on a yacht like I did and hit the Caribbean. He liked the idea but didn’t think Tina would do without him for that long. I said goodnight and closed the door. The bed had already been folded down and I could see occasional cinders falling down like little orange stars from the stacks. Marissa gave a little knock and opened the door. I was already half asleep when she snuggled in beside me. She said Kelly was having a drink with the Rev. and would be up shortly. She talked while I drifted in and out of a dream. I couldn’t tell anybody what she was talking about till Kelly arrived, but when the door shut for the last time the subject became obvious.

    Kelly slid into the bed wearing only a smile while Marissa leaned out to remove her dress. They both proceeded to take full advantage of me and each other. I was tired, but I was far from dead. It was a heavenly grope fest that woke me even more when they opened the door and in walked Marissa’s Latin friend with the huge tits. She was out of her shorts and tube top in seconds. They wore me out. The girls must have been tired as well since nobody seemed to mind my going to sleep. It was crowded I guess because when I woke just before sunrise only Marissa was beside me. Kelly got up a little early to start breakfast and the Latin Tit Queen went back down to the crew hammocks. I dashed to the galley intent on keeping my promise which Kelly was ready to see. She had a big bowl of pre-cracked eggs which she said needed beating while the griddle was covered with bacon, sausage, pork chops and ham. The oven was heating up for the corn muffins and biscuits her helper had started the night before. All we had to do was pop them in and haul them out. When the bacon was done I set it over to the grill which had a sheet pan waiting. I arranged the pork chops and sausages around it and put the ham in the corners. I lit the grill to keep the pan hot while I scrambled the eggs. Kelly put the muffins and biscuits into the oven and her assistant came back from setting the tables to carry out the cut fruit and coffee. She then went down to the crew chief to announce breakfast for the first watch. I told them to walk lightly in the morning but they still insisted on the stampede approach to the dining area.

    Only the filthy coal handlers had to wait while Kelly made their plates for them to eat on the picnic table we had set up on the deck in front of the wheel house. I loved eating up there and they did too. Besides they were served like kings by Kelly and her little assistant. These guys have a shit job but I make it worth their while. The Apprentice usually eats there as well. He decided to sleep in this morning. Tina’s Old Man’s buddy was at the helm. I think I will just refer to him as Beer Face as it always seems that he has one there. Beer Face is a good riverboat pilot though not a terribly social kind of guy. He’ll burn one and seem to enjoy it, but he doesn’t elaborate on it much. He was bitching about having a couple of hours to go on his watch. I guess it escapes him that I am in charge. But he was really griping about Tina’s Old Man taking his time relieving his watch. Like I care. I was checking the chart out. We moved really slowly through the night to allow for a decent night’s sleep for everyone aboard. One thing I decided to do was cut into the lower deck seating area and build some more rooms. It sucked to have to throw out the newlyweds so the Rev. could catch a few winks. We were past Good Fishing and headed for Baton Rouge so I would be able to let them have the room when the Rev. got off. We planned to stay in town for a full day to make sure of things on the boat and do a little trading. Heh, a whole lot of trading. We would be arriving within the hour so Kelly was freaking about getting the rest of the guests fed and the decks cleared of serving tables. Beer Face let out a few loud blasts from the whistle so I guess anyone left sleeping was jolted from their slumber. The Colonel was already off the boat and on one of the small boats speeding ahead. He looked like one of those old WW2 photos with his Cuban cigar and mirror glasses. He was a little eccentric but did a great job of organizing people. Had it not been for him I would never have considered needing the small boats for security. The sun had risen at a really nasty angle for the people on the decks that they all ran to the starboard side and actually upset the boat a little.

    I made a mental note to allow for the sun to rise higher before we pushed forward. I think a massive rescheduling of the route is in order. We did manage to use some of the tree cover for a good bit, but it was obvious that Baton Rouge was best landed either at night or earlier in the morning when approaching from the North. When the city came into view Beer Face let out another couple of blasts to announce our arrival. A shitload of folks were at the dock waiting for their trade goods and passenger arrivals. I was really happy to see them all. River travel below Memphis had become mundane and even dangerous so it was met with little fanfare till the Raleigh Trader came to be. I decided to jump ahead and seek out the Fat Frenchman and his brother. I called out on the two meter so Nelson and I could hitch a ride ashore with the Colonel’s men. The two French brothers were drinking coffee in their river front place. It was a good deal smaller than the place in New Orleans, but it was a crowded riverfront. I got a tight hug from the both of their sweaty asses. We had some more coffee and talked a bit while the Raleigh Trader was being tied to the dock. I wanted to have the boat moored before I showed it off. I called Beer Face on the portable and had him let out another couple of blasts. When the brothers and I rounded the corner they dropped their jaws. I had a couple of the crew make the starboard side clear so it would look great. They were impressed. I took them aboard for a tour. The Fat Frenchman was keenly interested in the gambling aspect of the business and suggested we team up. He’s a greedy shit. I guess that’s why I like him so much.

    I told him I had my eye on another boat and he offered to finance the whole shiteree. He is a well-meaning sort, but I have a thing about taking on partners who invite themselves. If he wants a scrap of my business, then it must really be worth something. He was bitching about fuel trade. Seems that his connections in Texas were slow with production. It sounded to me like they were self-satisfied from the great trade he had made with them. Gasoline was kind of a luxury sometimes so none of us made any plans around it unless we could hoard a few hundred gallons or so. The Colonel was a big stasher of fuel so I’m sure he always has a gas stock-pile. He wouldn’t say. I usually don’t drink in the morning. Not too much anyway. I decided to have a cold beer with the French Brothers while we toured the boat. The Fat Frenchman’s brother is something of a decorator and had all kinds of suggestions which Kelly listened to, but I don’t think she was too keen on. She doesn’t like taking directions from others. Me least of all. But I love her dearly. Marissa was sleeping in the chartroom. She wanted to get up around noon so she could save up some sleep time for the long nights I promised in New Orleans. Kelly was involved with shutting down the galley and planning for a day of shopping for groceries and making a delivery for Doc at a hospital near an old state building which was now an open market. I took the French Brothers up to the pilothouse and talked for a while over some of Saint Patrick’s Sweet Reefer brandy. A stupid name, but effective. They were really impressed with the old fashioned decor we had swiped from the Mud Island riverboat display. I only hoped I could find more stuff for the next boat I was dreaming of building. Marissa stumbled out of the chartroom still half asleep but happy to finally meet the people Nelson and I had spoken about for so long. She had rolled one of her famous Spanish Stogies for us to sample. It was basically a healthy wad of bud meat wrapped in a tobacco covering and looked like a cigar. I don’t really care much for tobacco in any other form, but this has always agreed with me.

    She was wearing her usual low-cut number with no bra and her totally erotic Latin nipples pushing through. I caught the brothers gawking more than a few times. The Fat Frenchman asked for a ride back to New Orleans which I was more than happy to comply with. Since it would be a short leg on the trip I could keep him busy gambling and not have to worry about a room. We had unloaded enough trade goods to allow us to transfer all of the cargo from the pontoon boat we were towing. The Fat Frenchman’s brother let us moor it at his landing so we could steam into the Big Easy free and clear with nothing but a beautiful boat in view. We were all pretty wasted when Kelly’s assistant showed up just in time with a tray of coffee. I had mine with a little kick from some coke which everyone wanted to try. Nelson naturally had a double dose. He is such a coke freak. We were suddenly motivated to get off the boat and see the sights. The Fat Frenchman’s brother borrowed the CB to call for a carriage which we rode all over. Marissa stayed on the boat to catch up with Kelly so it was just us guys riding around. Naturally we ended up at the Brothers’ Cat House. These guys knew how to live. I was starving so we went into the little cafe and sat a little while. Nelson ran upstairs to take care of business before he ate. He was back before I was done with my salad. He has a short fuse for free pussy. It turned into a long discussion with the Brothers about fuel and other concerns I had about another boat. They wanted to set up more than a couple of boats. They wanted a whole fleet of them. They said a trade route from St. Louis to New Orleans would mean nothing but profit.

    I saw problems that these two were blind to. There was still plenty of trouble to be had on the river. I had some really good veal steak with a side of pasta and new potatoes. Nelson had catfish and the Brothers were slurping down crawfish by the ton. They had some pretty good local beer though I forget the name. I just remember that it was cold and sat well with veal. I started thinking about things in Raleigh and looked forward to calling my Aunt. Nelson was certain that things back home were OK. With The Package and his crew around there was little need to worry about security. But I worry as an obligation like any good family member would. My Aunt was a little provincial in her attitude toward people. After being around her for so long, I have seen a side of her that frustrates me. She is just plain gullible. But I must say that I love her dearly as the last member of my immediate family. We really don’t have much in common, but we are family. She reminds me of my Mom at times. And my Dad at other times. I guess she is all I will ever have of my old family and at the same time is the top of the new family tree I have started. I really miss the family I once knew. There were cousins and aunts and uncles as far back as the last century. But when my great grandmother gave up the ghost, we all became very distant. Family is important to me. My grandfather was really into keeping our immediate clan together. One thing I will fault him for is suggesting I go into military service. As a teenager I had every intention of joining the Air Force. But the Navy made more sense to me.

    Still I feel that I was kind of pushed into it after high school by my family as a means of getting an education. In later times I discovered that my family was well able to send me to college, but was too greedy to sacrifice any principle of the family estate. An estate that was destroyed by the crash. After eating the Brothers carried us to a market on Front Street. I remembered the name since Memphis has a Front street. The market was jammed with traders and I snapped up as many good albums and tapes as I could find. I found some Pink Floyd, Credence and a Louisiana band named after wine. I also found a shitload of ammunition which I made a package deal for in the form of coke and ham. I admit there were several rounds which didn’t fit any kind of gun we had, but it did make it easy to justify trading for them when they did become available. I got a bunch of 410 shells with medium shot for the huge revolver I kept in the chart room. It was a big gun and I expected it to be really valuable in the intimidation department someday. I got Kelly some more crossbow bolts which had been made in a local machine shop and looked really painful. I expected her to drop to her knees the second she saw them. She gets the female equivalent of a hard on when she sees new archery shit. I also managed to trade for films for the kids. I actually found some 8mm of Fat Albert which I used to love when I was a kid. My son was still a little too young to understand, but he loved any kind of cartoons. The Fat Frenchman and his brother spend a great deal of time on their asses. I caught up with them at a little joint quaffing back a bottle of claret whilst sucking obese cigars.

    I wanted to get back to the boat to drop off the shit I had traded for to close those deals and check how the coal loading was going. Except for Beerface and a couple of the Colonel’s men, nobody else was around. Or so I thought till the Apprentice poked his head out of a door from the engine room. He had been down there this whole time making sure every moving joint and valve had oil or grease. He was a damned thorough little shit. I told him he had liberty till the whistle blasted the next afternoon. He tore off to the crew compartment and got cleaned up and nearly put wind in the sails of the other boats in the marina as he flew down the plank. One of the brothers stopped him as he had recognized him from the previous trip. The Fat Frenchman handed him something and sent him running down the street. I later found out that it was a token for the Cat House. A brass coin with a credit number on it. The brothers only allowed their version of money to be traded in their own places, but it did lend them a certain amount of control and accountability. The Apprentice was carrying his little bag which always brought the ridicule of people like The Package and his boys as “his purse”. But he always kept a decent stash of cool shit in it. I could learn a lesson by him as I tend to carry little or nothing when I travel. Yet I always manage to keep a doobie or six in my little cigarette case with a little coke and a couple of Doc’s latest goof pills. I was sure I would not see my Apprentice for several hours at best, though I was certain he would sleep on the boat. Beerface told me the Rev. called on the two meter to say that he would be returning to Dyersburg early and we would not be seeing him on the return trip.

    I was glad to have an empty room to rent out. He then lit a large joint and took a couple of long tokes through one of his missing teeth before handing it over. It was some really strong tasting weed that tasted really wild. He said he traded for it from an old lady on the dock. It had a nice kick, but I still prefer the garden variety. Especially Doc’s indoor garden variety. Since nothing much was happening in Baton Rouge I decided we would leave first thing in the morning. All of the cargo had been dealt with and we were just shopping and getting stoned. That gets old pretty quick for me. But Baton Rouge has more than a few theaters operating. One was showing Clockwork Orange so I had to go. I took Marissa and Kelly and smoked a really special joint with some of Doc’s DMT mixed in. It makes for a really tripping buzz and I nearly quit breathing from laughing at the scene that was tracked with The William Tell Overture. I was crying on the floor. Movies just slay me. While the rest of the story is not too cheerful it does end pretty well. The wives were tired and I agreed it was time to head back to the boat. We turned the corner to see a full raging party onboard with very loud music and people nearly falling into the river. It was a little relief to see Nelson at the helm of this fiasco. I told him to kill the show at midnight and evict the non passengers by one. He graciously agreed and resumed wailing on a borrowed ax. My wives went up to the chartroom to warm up the bed while I had a last brandy with Tina’s old man who had spent the afternoon hunting down a carb for his speedboat and some local pussy. He let Beerface roam town while he stayed back as I insisted at least one person who was able to drive this tub stick around. Beerface got to stay ashore tonight if he wanted.

    We smoked a little hash in one of the dining booths while watching the Latin Tit Queen do her thing on the dance floor. She was wearing a white top and denim cut-offs with red heels. She was the quintessential slut model from which they should all be cast. She had a nice tight ass. I went to bed where I found my wives already asleep so I just passed out beside them. The music died down at eleven thirty then stopped at midnight right after a whole band jam that must have woke the town. I came three feet off the bed. I listened as people shuffled off the boat. I heard some loud bullshit talk so I looked out to see Nelson arguing with some local asshole. I flashed the light in the chartroom a couple of times so Nelson would know he wasn’t alone. Just then the Apprentice appeared behind the asshole and wrapped his arms around the guy's legs and pitched him into the river quick as you please. I later learned that he did a little training with one of The Package’s crew. Nelson ran to the pier to help the guy out and send him packing for sure. I went back to bed. I really didn’t plan on too much sleep this trip anyway.
     
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    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 1, 2020
  20. done​
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 1, 2020

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