The Jesus Cow - At Church
By
Graybeard Paine
The radio started squawking before I had my first swallow of coffee. “Sheriff, you better check on Booger,” Dawg said. “Somebody just peeled out of his place in Booger’s car. He’s not stopping for my lights and siren, and that’s not like Booger.”
“I’ll get Lacy on it. Tell me what’s happening.”
“ We been hitting about 110 and he’s gaining on me. Whoops, he just turned onto Old Creek Road.”
The miscreant was obviously lost and I knew we had him cornered. “I’ll block him off at the bridge by Wylie’s church.” I was hitting about 110 myself.
In minutes I had the bridge blocked, the red and blues flashing. I saw headlights coming and heard Dawg’s siren wailing. Booger’s car spun out on the gravel in front of the church and the driver took off running toward the back of the church. I and Dawg running behind. He disappeared around the corner and we cautiously followed.
A keening scream or yell from inside almost forced us out of our hides. I banged open the door with gun drawn. Dawg pushed in behind me. The situation was worse than I expected.
A naked Miss Belinda lay on the floor and had obviously found religion. Her sister was nearby, also naked, and the good Reverend Wylie, naked as a jaybird, was forcefully ministering to her needs. They were so involved they hardly knew we were there. We backed out slowly.
“Damn, Sheriff, did you see what they were doing?” Dawg was genuinely shocked and had forgotten about the fugitive.
“No,” I said, “and neither did you! You’ll never see retirement if one word of this gets out.” I think he knew I meant it.
We heard the brush crackling behind the churchyard and remembered our fugitive. Dawg stopped at the fence like I did
“We’ll know tomorrow who the guy is; that’s about eighty acres of poison ivy back there. All we have to do is find the guy who’s doing the scratching.”
We were still discussing the case when Lacy arrived, all business-like and matter-of fact. “Booger is alright. He got knocked on the head, but Lulu Belle is taking care of him. She acts like she really likes being a nurse.”
Then she said, “Sheriff, did you know that Reverend Wylie and the Will sisters are stark naked and playing grab-ass in the church?”
I nodded and she said,” I don’t think it’s right for a preacher to do the dirty-nasty in a church, but you know those gals are cuter naked than they are with clothes on.”
“And it’s not right for a black, lesbian deputy to stand around gazing at a couple of naked little white gals,” I laughed. “I’ll bet you took a few minutes longer than needed in there.”
Lacy laughed with me and put her martial arts training to use to jab me in the ribs with her elbow. “Sheriff, you just called me ‘deputy’,” she said, “did I get promoted or am I still your dispatcher?”
“I’ll think on it,” I said.
We slowly trailed back to the office, my old pickup in the lead, followed by Lacy’s bright yellow Volkswagen and Dawg’s old Desoto. Inexplicably, the red and blues on the Desoto kept flashing until we shut down for the day.
The office was quiet in the morning ; it usually is. Lacy had two glazed donuts and a fresh cup of hot coffee waiting for me. She carefully tended her bright red nails as she did every other morning; I was astounded by her ability to get things done.
“Well, sheriff,” she said, “am I a deputy or am I a dispatcher?”
“It depends,” I said. “If you’re elected sheriff, am I going to be hired as a deputy, or as a dispatcher?”
“Hell, sheriff,” she said, “you’re getting so old, I might have to hire you as a door stop.” She laughed.
“Okay,” I said, “you’re a deputy, but you still have to do the dispatching. And be careful how you use the light bar on your patrol car. I doubt you’ll stop anyone with that little yellow blob.”
“You’re sweet,” she said, “Oh, you need to see Miss Birney. She’s real nervous about the cattle mutilations and the dead alien. Said she heard weird sounds and saw some creatures and strange lights in her garden last night.”
I left Lacy searching for an itching suspect, while I went of to save Miss Birney from being ravaged by aliens, skunk apes, ghosts or whatever. Saving Miss Birney is one of the necessary public relations functions of a sheriff. I’ve rescued her from the singing ghost that turned out to be a hoot-owl and from the pecan tree that dropped nuts on her porch roof. She wraps her head with aluminum foil, from time to time, to keep the aliens from taking over her mind, what’s left of it. She’s a nice little, old lady when she calms down and makes the best damned chocolate cake in the county.
It’s awfully hard to eat when you’re looking at an old lady with an aluminum head; I reassured her that she was safe and could divest the foil.
“Miss Birney,” I said, “there’re tracks of four young men in your garden and some cigarette butts. I suspect what you saw was some of our local yahoos stealing a couple of melons and smoking cigarettes.”
She seemed relieved, dished up another slice of cake and poured another glass of milk. “Damn, this investigation business is hard work.” I thought. But, I just about had the case wrapped up. The watermelon rinds and cigarette butts tipped me off, as did the hunting boot footprint, that appeared to be about size fourteen. Only one kid in the county fit those dimensions. He and his three friends are not unknown to law enforcement.
I got back to the office just as Lacy was finishing up the “itching investigation.”
“Sheriff, I called the drug store and Charlie said they just delivered some poison ivy medicine to number four down at the Starbrite Motel. Want me to go get him?”
My alertness suffered from milk and chocolate cake; I was in need of a nap.
“Go ahead, deputy, but be careful and don’t hurt him.”
Lacy brought back the meekest, most subdued and disreputable looking crook I have ever seen. The older bruises on his face were changing from black and blue to a sickly yellow green. The new bruises were black and red. And everything was overlaid with a thick red rash. This guy was going to be uncomfortable when the ivy really took hold.
“Jesus, Lacy,” I said, “you didn’t do all that to him did you?”
“No, I just put his pants on him and I might have got them on backward.”
If the guy blushed, I couldn’t see it under the rash.
“Sheriff, this guy just can’t wait to talk. I read him his rights and gave him a rubdown with poison ivy medicine. He’ll be forever grateful for the rubdown. I promised another one this evening if he’s a good boy and talks to us. You think the Supreme Court will go for that?”
Our suspect was Jimmy Bowman out of Chicago and he claimed he stole Boogers car in self defense. He thinks someone is trying to kill him and he had to get away. He tried to steal the worst looking car he could find and the owner beat hell out of him. He hit the owner with a piece of pipe and then the owner’s girl friend started beating him up. He finally got into the car and got it started just when Dawg was driving up.
I was surprised to learn that Booger and LuLu Belle were a team, but Lacy explained, “Booger finally got his NASCAR license.”
“Jimmy, what are you doing here and who is trying to kill you?"