reached inside his oaken desk.
Without looking Webster fumbled through various items until his hand made contact with his gun. Slipping his fingers around the polymer handle, Webster slowly pulled the .38 Special from his desk while staring at his computer screen.
The floorboard whined again, but this time the sound was several feet closer.
It was time to make his move.
In a sudden burst, Webster dropped to the hardwood floor and spun toward his unsuspecting target. The move stunned the trespasser so much that he dropped the cup of coffee he was carrying and shrieked like a wounded girl.
The pathetic wail brought a smile to Webster’s face. “Gump, what the hell are you doing sneaking up on me? Don’t you know we have nearly two dozen prisoners on this island that would like to see me dead? You got to use your head, boy! God gave you a brain for a reason.”
Bennie Blount lowered his head in shame, and as he did, his elaborate dreadlocks cascaded over his dark eyes, making him look like a Rastafarian sheepdog. “I sorry ’bout that. I was just trying to bring you something to wakes you up.”
Webster glanced at the brown puddle that covered the floor and grimaced. “Unless you have a straw, I think it’s going to be tough for me to drink.”
The 6’6” servant stared at the steaming beverage for several seconds before his face broke into a gold-toothed smile. “For a minute, I thought you be serious, but then I says to myself, Master Webster ain’t no dog. He ain’t gonna drink his drink from no floor, even with a straw!”
“Well, that’s awfully clever of you, but before I congratulate you too much, why don’t you run into the other room and get a mop?”
“That’s a mighty good idea, sir. I guess I shoulda thought of it since it’s my job to clean and all.” Blount slowly backed away from the spill as he continued to speak. “Don’t ya worry now.”
Blount had been hired by the Plantation for his strong work ethic and knowledge of the local swamps. Nicknamed Gump for his intellectual similarities to Forrest Gump, the dim-witted character from the movie bearing his name, Blount lived in the guest wing of the white-pillared mansion. During the course of the day, he spent most of his time cooking and cleaning, but twice a week he was allowed to journey to the mainland for food and supplies.
When Blount returned to Webster’s office, he was disappointed to see his boss working again. He liked talking to his superiors whenever he could, even though they often got upset when he interrupted their top-secret duties.
“Gump,” Webster asked without turning around, “what are we having for breakfast?”
The question brought a smile to his lips, and his gold teeth glistened in the sunlight. “Well, I figure since this be a big week for y’all, I should fix a big Southern meal likes my momma used to make. I makes eggs ’n’ bacon ’n’ ham ’n’ grits ’n’ biscuits ’n’ fresh apple butter, too. Oooooooweeeeee! I think my mouth is gonna water all day!”
Webster nodded his head in appreciation, at least until Blount’s statement sank in. He turned from his computer and faced the dark-skinned servant. “What exactly did you mean when you said this was a big week for us? What do you know about this week?”
With the soiled mop in his hand, he shrugged. “Not much, sir, but I can tell somethin’s up. There be an excitement in the air that’s easier to smell than the magnolias in May. I figured maybe it’s your birthday. Or maybe it’s ’cause the Fourth of July is coming!”
Webster studied Blount as he spoke, and it appeared that he was telling the truth. “I think it’s just the holiday that has everybody excited,” he lied. “I know I’m looking forward to it.”
“Well, I be, too! In fact, I was wondering if I can go to the city for the fireworks show on Saturday night. I don’t know why they on the third, but
Without looking Webster fumbled through various items until his hand made contact with his gun. Slipping his fingers around the polymer handle, Webster slowly pulled the .38 Special from his desk while staring at his computer screen.
The floorboard whined again, but this time the sound was several feet closer.
It was time to make his move.
In a sudden burst, Webster dropped to the hardwood floor and spun toward his unsuspecting target. The move stunned the trespasser so much that he dropped the cup of coffee he was carrying and shrieked like a wounded girl.
The pathetic wail brought a smile to Webster’s face. “Gump, what the hell are you doing sneaking up on me? Don’t you know we have nearly two dozen prisoners on this island that would like to see me dead? You got to use your head, boy! God gave you a brain for a reason.”
Bennie Blount lowered his head in shame, and as he did, his elaborate dreadlocks cascaded over his dark eyes, making him look like a Rastafarian sheepdog. “I sorry ’bout that. I was just trying to bring you something to wakes you up.”
Webster glanced at the brown puddle that covered the floor and grimaced. “Unless you have a straw, I think it’s going to be tough for me to drink.”
The 6’6” servant stared at the steaming beverage for several seconds before his face broke into a gold-toothed smile. “For a minute, I thought you be serious, but then I says to myself, Master Webster ain’t no dog. He ain’t gonna drink his drink from no floor, even with a straw!”
“Well, that’s awfully clever of you, but before I congratulate you too much, why don’t you run into the other room and get a mop?”
“That’s a mighty good idea, sir. I guess I shoulda thought of it since it’s my job to clean and all.” Blount slowly backed away from the spill as he continued to speak. “Don’t ya worry now.”
Blount had been hired by the Plantation for his strong work ethic and knowledge of the local swamps. Nicknamed Gump for his intellectual similarities to Forrest Gump, the dim-witted character from the movie bearing his name, Blount lived in the guest wing of the white-pillared mansion. During the course of the day, he spent most of his time cooking and cleaning, but twice a week he was allowed to journey to the mainland for food and supplies.
When Blount returned to Webster’s office, he was disappointed to see his boss working again. He liked talking to his superiors whenever he could, even though they often got upset when he interrupted their top-secret duties.
“Gump,” Webster asked without turning around, “what are we having for breakfast?”
The question brought a smile to his lips, and his gold teeth glistened in the sunlight. “Well, I figure since this be a big week for y’all, I should fix a big Southern meal likes my momma used to make. I makes eggs ’n’ bacon ’n’ ham ’n’ grits ’n’ biscuits ’n’ fresh apple butter, too. Oooooooweeeeee! I think my mouth is gonna water all day!”
Webster nodded his head in appreciation, at least until Blount’s statement sank in. He turned from his computer and faced the dark-skinned servant. “What exactly did you mean when you said this was a big week for us? What do you know about this week?”
With the soiled mop in his hand, he shrugged. “Not much, sir, but I can tell somethin’s up. There be an excitement in the air that’s easier to smell than the magnolias in May. I figured maybe it’s your birthday. Or maybe it’s ’cause the Fourth of July is coming!”
Webster studied Blount as he spoke, and it appeared that he was telling the truth. “I think it’s just the holiday that has everybody excited,” he lied. “I know I’m looking forward to it.”
“Well, I be, too! In fact, I was wondering if I can go to the city for the fireworks show on Saturday night. I don’t know why they on the third, but
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