Waste of Breath

It wasn’t a long run, it was nice. Around the lake, through the trees, past the playground with the mothers and the little kids. It was a nice run.

When I really want a hard run I run up Canyon Avenue. It’s a steep hill, a road, straight up. A ball-buster. Lot of nice houses up there with great views.

But this was nice. It was sunny. Blue sky. Wispy clouds. A little breeze, the works. It was absolutely gorgeous!

I ran past the playground and down along West Terrace, and I took a left along the dirt road that ran off to the side. I’m not sure what the road was named but it used to go to the Bentley place. I hadn’t seen the old house for a long time. I grew up with a few of the Bentley kids. They moved away long ago. I was pretty sure no one lived in the house now.

What the hell, I thought; it’s a nice day. We used to play there as kids. They had a swing-set, and a big grass lawn with a couple of swayback horses in a corral. We used to fly kites on the grass.

I jogged along trying to remember the oldest brother’s name; Burt? Brent? Butch! Butch Bentley! I wondered what ever happened to Butch Bentley. Hell of a nice guy. He used to spit when he talked. I laughed now as I ran. The saliva just flew when he used esses. Butch said, “You should’a seen--” we were drenched. Maybe I could Google old Butch…

I came around a slow curve which I half remembered. I was only a little kid the last time I was here. I saw a driveway now over grown with weeds. Perhaps this wasn’t the Bentley place, but looking up the road I saw nothing else to hope for.

I ran along the long driveway which was now no more than a rutted out trail, thinking I was going to be saddened by the sight of the old place. The trail wrapped around a bend I didn’t recall, but I ran anyway, I’d come this far. Right before the bend I came to a stop.

tata-tata-tata-tata- tata-tata-tata-tata tata-tata-tata-tata-tata-tata-tata-tata- tata-tata-tata-tata- tata-tata-tata-tata- tata-tata-tata-tata- tata-tata-tata-tata- tata-tata-tata-tata- tata-tata-tata-tata- tata-tata-tata-tata- tata-tata-tata-tata- tata-tata-tata-tata!

When the shooting stopped, I heard, “You got it, Pop!’

I thought about turning around and sprinting the other way, but I crept forward.

There was what must have once been a full grown dear spread out in the middle of the Bentley’s front yard . I knew it was a deer because all that was left of it was half its head and an antler or two.

The legs and the stomach and hind quarters and the innerds were spread out in a hundred different places. A hoof was over here. An ear was over there. Blood was everywhere.

It was Mort Wilson and his son that came out into the road then. They were both dressed like some Special Unit jungle brigade.

I could see them looking down at the gore in the roadway.

“Hey, Mr. Stallings!” It was Mort’s kid that saw me first.

I stopped twenty yards away from the carnage across the dirt.

I stood there for a quite a few moments in silence.

“What the fuck, Mort,” I finally said.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mort said. “Don’t you cuss around my kid!”

“I’m sorry, Mort, but look what you did!”

“I got a license, Stallings. It’s deer season.”

“You got a license for a bazooka?” I asked.

“It’s a semi-automatic, and yeah, I got a license for it!”

“Well that’s some goddamn good shooting you did there!”

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain around me, Stallings!” he screamed. "I won't stand for it!"

“You actually can buy a gun like that, legally?"

"This is a legal gun, Stallings," he said. "Don't start with the gun arguements."

"Yeah, blasphemy and gun control are sins. What are you going to do with the deer, make soup?"

The boy was wide-eyed now, scared at the tone of our voices. Mort looked at me, disgusted.

I felt bad about the look on the kid's face, so I turned and walked away. I walked and walked and walked until the vomit finally came. I leaned over and watched the great hot chunks of my lunch land in the dirt. I spread my legs wide for the sake of my shoes.

I walked the whole way home. I planned to eat dinner with my wife and kids and then watch a little television. Better yet, I decided, it was going to be a nice night; maybe we’d go see a movie.

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