catch up with you when-”
“When you get old ,” Joshua grimaced.
“No sir, that wasn’t what I was going to say. I was going to say when you’re tired and not gettin’ enough rest. We’ve just been worried about you.”
“Y’all needn’t worry, son, I am fine. I get enough sleep to get by; you go on home and get you some. You will be a lot more help to me that way.”
“Yes, sir, I will see you in the morning.” Joshua watched Cook walk toward his patrol car and then watched the taillights as he drove out the driveway. As soon as he was out of sight, Joshua let out a sigh on relief and then poured a glass of whiskey.
He had seen Cook eyeing at the bottle. He had never hid his drinking, but normally he did not drink unless he was sitting at home. He had a right to do whatever he wanted when he was off duty, but since he was never actually off duty, he considered his time at home as his own. He stood and walked to the edge of the porch to take a piss. When he looked down, the possum was on the ground near a tree.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” he asked, of course the possum only gazed at him and then climbed the tree. Before he sat down, he reached in and turned the kitchen light off. He had turned it on after the deputies got there so that he could see better on the back porch. The screen door creaked as he opened and closed it. He needed to oil it. He added the squeaking door to his list of ‘need to dos’ and lit a cigarette.
As he sat there thinking and listening to the sounds of the night, fog began to rise from the river; he shivered. The night air was not quite as warm as it had been the last few weeks. Several long swallows of whiskey warmed him right up. He leaned back, slid his behind forward in the rocker, and then propped his booted feet on the railing. Morning found him in the same position.
Joshua woke with a start. He had been having one of those same weird dreams he had been having ever since he had to kill the psychotic Dixon brothers and finding their trophy room of women’s heads. Each dream was different, but in many ways, they were the same. They always involved the heads sitting on the shelves.
In this dream, he was standing in the middle of the room looking from head to head, wondering which one of them was his mother. Suddenly, each head began trying to talk, but they could not speak because their lips were sewn shut. Joshua grabbed a pair of snips like the ones he had used to cut the thread from Emma’s lips when the Dixon brothers had her. He began snipping the thread and then pulling it from their lips. As he did, each spoke a phrase or verse of some sort. All but the last one… she did not look at him or attempt to speak. Most of the heads had at least a few springs of hair attached to them but he could not remember the color of his mother’s hair, her eyes either.
The eyeholes of the heads on the selves all had miniature tombstones stuck in them instead of dried up eyeballs. He knew the tombstones in the eyes came from lyrics in the Steppenwolf song - ‘the Pusherman.’
When he thought of his mother and tried to remember her face, all he could remember was her sitting on the couch, patting it, and motioning for him to sit beside her. All he saw were her hands as she folded them and laid them in her lap. He wondered why he could not remember his mother’s face.
He needed to go look through their belongings and find the family photos. Joshua had not gone through his father’s belongings after he passed away. His granddad had hired someone to pack up everything in the house and move it to storage.
Joshua lived with his grandparents until their deaths. After they passed, he bought his cabin, and then he paid someone to move his parent’s stuff from storage to his granddaddy’s place. He could have lived in his grandfather’s home as long as he wanted. His grandfather left the farm to him, but since he was married, he wanted him and Francine to have a
“When you get old ,” Joshua grimaced.
“No sir, that wasn’t what I was going to say. I was going to say when you’re tired and not gettin’ enough rest. We’ve just been worried about you.”
“Y’all needn’t worry, son, I am fine. I get enough sleep to get by; you go on home and get you some. You will be a lot more help to me that way.”
“Yes, sir, I will see you in the morning.” Joshua watched Cook walk toward his patrol car and then watched the taillights as he drove out the driveway. As soon as he was out of sight, Joshua let out a sigh on relief and then poured a glass of whiskey.
He had seen Cook eyeing at the bottle. He had never hid his drinking, but normally he did not drink unless he was sitting at home. He had a right to do whatever he wanted when he was off duty, but since he was never actually off duty, he considered his time at home as his own. He stood and walked to the edge of the porch to take a piss. When he looked down, the possum was on the ground near a tree.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” he asked, of course the possum only gazed at him and then climbed the tree. Before he sat down, he reached in and turned the kitchen light off. He had turned it on after the deputies got there so that he could see better on the back porch. The screen door creaked as he opened and closed it. He needed to oil it. He added the squeaking door to his list of ‘need to dos’ and lit a cigarette.
As he sat there thinking and listening to the sounds of the night, fog began to rise from the river; he shivered. The night air was not quite as warm as it had been the last few weeks. Several long swallows of whiskey warmed him right up. He leaned back, slid his behind forward in the rocker, and then propped his booted feet on the railing. Morning found him in the same position.
Joshua woke with a start. He had been having one of those same weird dreams he had been having ever since he had to kill the psychotic Dixon brothers and finding their trophy room of women’s heads. Each dream was different, but in many ways, they were the same. They always involved the heads sitting on the shelves.
In this dream, he was standing in the middle of the room looking from head to head, wondering which one of them was his mother. Suddenly, each head began trying to talk, but they could not speak because their lips were sewn shut. Joshua grabbed a pair of snips like the ones he had used to cut the thread from Emma’s lips when the Dixon brothers had her. He began snipping the thread and then pulling it from their lips. As he did, each spoke a phrase or verse of some sort. All but the last one… she did not look at him or attempt to speak. Most of the heads had at least a few springs of hair attached to them but he could not remember the color of his mother’s hair, her eyes either.
The eyeholes of the heads on the selves all had miniature tombstones stuck in them instead of dried up eyeballs. He knew the tombstones in the eyes came from lyrics in the Steppenwolf song - ‘the Pusherman.’
When he thought of his mother and tried to remember her face, all he could remember was her sitting on the couch, patting it, and motioning for him to sit beside her. All he saw were her hands as she folded them and laid them in her lap. He wondered why he could not remember his mother’s face.
He needed to go look through their belongings and find the family photos. Joshua had not gone through his father’s belongings after he passed away. His granddad had hired someone to pack up everything in the house and move it to storage.
Joshua lived with his grandparents until their deaths. After they passed, he bought his cabin, and then he paid someone to move his parent’s stuff from storage to his granddaddy’s place. He could have lived in his grandfather’s home as long as he wanted. His grandfather left the farm to him, but since he was married, he wanted him and Francine to have a
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