Lovely Oklahoma

“I need to get some gas before we go,” Kyle said, while looking over at Amber in the passenger seat.
“Ok, I’m going to run in and get some coffee while you’re putting gas in the car.”
Kyle pulled into the Shell station on the I-240 service road and parked at the farthest pump. “Gas prices are damn ridiculous,” Kyle said as he unbuckled his belt.
“I know, but what are you going to do?” Amber asked with a sheepish grin. She knew how touchy Kyle was about money, and the trip to her family reunion had already put him in a mood.
“Not only do I have to pay ninety-five dollars a night for a raunchy room in bumblefuck Oklahoma, but I have to pay out the ass for a tank of gas,” Kyle said.
Amber didn’t respond; she knew he just had to vent, which would probably take the whole two hour trip to Ponca City. As Kyle opened the door his wife grabbed her purse from under the seat and got out of the car. “Do you want anything while I’m in there?” Amber asked.
“Uh, yeah, grab me a coffee and some trail mix.”
“Ok, will do. I’ll be back in a sec,” Amber said
Kyle stepped into the stagnant Oklahoma humidity. The cloud of moist air hit his face and his demeanor could do nothing but worsen. Damn, this is like living in the crack of some fat man’s ass, Kyle thought as he stepped out of the car. Beads of sweat began to form along his upper lip and hairline.
He pulled out his credit card and slid it through the card reader, then stuffed it back in his billfold. Kyle leaned back and popped the gas cap door. As he reached for the hose his eyes met what he believed to be the perfect representation of life in Oklahoma.
A beater of a truck came squealing and clicking up to the other side of his pump. It looked as though the truck had been pieced together by multiple trips to the junkyard. The highlight of the vehicle was the gross amount of University of Oklahoma paraphernalia that began at the back bumper and migrated its way up to where the front bumper should have been.
“Oh God, please don’t let this troglodyte try and talk to me.” Kyle said under his breath as he slid the nozzle into the tank. He gave the trigger a couple of pumps and the gas began to flow. He took a few shuffle steps over to the right making quite sure that he would be blocked from view by the pump.
The aforementioned troglodyte poured his three hundred and fifty pound body out of the driver’s seat. He too was covered in University of Oklahoma garb, OU hat, OU shirt, OU shoes, and a well centered OU patch on the front pocket of his overalls, which made him look just as classy as the piece of shit truck he pulled up in.
“Sum bitch, this gas is ‘spinsive as a motherfucker,” the man said aloud. “It’s all these damn Ay-rabs and their oil.”
Please don’t let this idiot talk to me, Kyle thought as he grew increasingly anxious for the pump to finish.
“Good mornin’ to ya,” the good ‘ol boy called over the pump.
Maybe if I don’t say anything he’ll leave me alone, Kyle thought.
“Damn boy, what is ya, deaf?
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear you. I’m fine. How are you?” Kyle asked, trying to be civil.
“I’m as good as I can be considering I’m married to a complete bitch.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Kyle said, with an ever increasing feeling of discomfort as the man moved in closer. Oh shit, this guy is going to talk my ear off, Kyle thought as he gave the man a half-assed grin with an accompanying pity laugh.
“Damn, these gas prices is ridiculous, ain’t they?” the man stated.
“Yeah, they’re pretty high, but what’re you going to do?” Kyle answered.
“I’ll tell ya what we should do; we should nuke those ragheads and take the oil for ourselves,” he said.
“I suppose,” Kyle said as he adjusted himself.
“Boy, you got the crabs?” the man asked. “You’re over there yankin’ on your pecker like somthin’ is bitin’ at ya.
“Do I . . . what? No I don’t have . . .” Kyle stammered.
“Have you found Jesus?” the man interrupted.
“I’m sorry?” Kyle answered as he wrinkled his brow. Man, all I wanted to do was put gas in my car, and now I’ve got Oral Roberts over here trying to save my soul.
“Oh, you will be unless you find him,” the man said, giving Kyle a little pop to the shoulder. “By the way, my name is Odel.”
Kyle rubbed his arm and gave Odel a, ‘you’re creeping me out,’ kind of laugh. Man if this guy doesn’t get away from me I’m going to snap. I imagine his next question is going to be if it’s hot enough for me.
Kyle looked at the pump as the flow of gas began to slow, then gave the handle a few squeezes to top off the tank. As he began to remove the nozzle, the human atrocity attempting to carry on a conversation with him reached into the front pocket of his oversized Osh Kosh B’Gosh overalls and produced a pack of smokes. Oh, don’t tell me this tool is going to light up here, Kyle thought in complete disbelief of this moron standing in front of him.
The man smacked the pack of cigarettes against his palm a couple of times, then brought the pack up to his tobacco spattered lips. He pursed his mouth and pulled out one of the cigarettes closest to the top. Kyle stood fixated, unable to comprehend the sheer amount of ignorance this man possessed.
Snap! Hiss! – Odel struck a match on the pump’s side and held it up to the business end of the cigarette; he took a couple of drags until it was solidly lit. He gave the match a couple of shakes and flicked it behind his back. “So, is it hot enough for you?” he asked as he blew a mouthful of smoke in Kyle’s face.
Snap! – The sound of the young man’s last nerve - Odel had found it and was dancing a jig on the shattered bits. Kyle’s jaw dropped and his face grew flush. Without thought, he brought the nozzle of the pump from its resting place against his hip and pointed it directly in the face of Odel.
“Damn, son, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” the man asked, taking a couple of steps back.
The only response Kyle offered was a flat, “Fuck You,” and a cool blast of petrol. The gas splattered against the man’s stained overalls as he stumbled backward over the curb surrounding the fuel pump. His cigarette tumbled onto his chest and within a blink of an eye Kyle was watching a redneck-fireball rolling around on the concrete.
The fat man wallowed around, slapping his hands against his chest trying to douse the flames. He screamed at the top of his lungs, “Oh, lord, help me; someone put me out!”
Kyle stood and grinned, “Is it hot enough for you?”
“Are you ready?”
Kyle shook his head and blinked his eyes. “What?”
“I said, are you ready?”
He looked over the hood of his car and saw Amber standing there with the coffee and snacks. “Uh, yeah,” Kyle said, turning his attention back to his unwanted friend.
“Is you retarded, boy?” the man asked. “You standin’ there with your mouth hangin’ open like you catchin’ flies or something.” Odel shook his head, nodded at Amber, and headed back over to his side of the pump.
Kyle slid the fuel nozzle back into its resting place. Amber was back in the car arranging the coffee cups and snacks into a convenient place for the drive north. Kyle opened his door and sat down with a long sigh, “I’m ready to move back to the coast; this place is driving me nuts.”
Amber shook her head and smiled as Kyle cranked the engine and put the car in drive.