a truckin fable

The heat makes the road dance in front of my eyes. I can feel my fingers go pale. Maybe it’s time for a god dammed pit stop. I pulled the rig over to the far line. At this age I’ve learned time has beaten the tar outa my eyes. I's got to treat my eyes like a con man, not trustin. Those bas****s. Almost took me for my whole load once. I’ve always thought that con men were the lowest of dirty swindlers like that.
Spotted a station bout a quarter mile down the road. Didn’t think I’d be so relieved to see one, but s*** if I didn’t almost thank Christ when that crappy oval sign jumped out.


Slowed the rig down to about 10 then slid her into 1st and drove into the station. I always preferred the sound of the wheels crossing over the sand, pushing down real heard on the rocks, reminds me of fire crackers. Never cared too much for the sight of em but the pops and bangs made my neck rattle like a purring kitten.

Backed up to the pump and hopped down from my kester holder. d*** near broke my knees when I got to the ground. S*** sometimes I really am as dumb as a mutt. Man behind the station came out and hollered something like “you alright there? Ya god dammed old man.” Those gasoline chumps really send me off the roof when they think too much of my white beard, “fine, I’m God dammed fine.” I’d almost forgot how to talk to people, s*** I’d been drivin for almost 11 hours now. “Okay there old man, what can I do fer ya today?” “Why doncha get yer a** over and fill er up while I get a cup of coffee?” one of the nicer sides of bein old is you can tell off yuts whenever you d*** well please.

I walked over and helped myself to the place. Always laughed at how I knew my way around gas stations like my own d*** kitchen. Coffee by the register creamers in the back. I made myself a drink and walked back outside to check on the kid, “what’s the damage there Fido?” “Gas isn’t finished yet, but the coffee is gonna be $1.25.” I didn’t much feel like shooting the s*** with this miscreeeant anymore. He was dumber than your average straight jacket. What I did feel like doing was p***ing the Kentucky Derby. Past coupla years I've had to do my business d*** near every time I turn around. I’d rather not trouble you with the details of how I get along with the 10 hour shifts without pulling over, but it's not pretty. Anyways I did my do and walked back into the store.

I member this here part real clear; I wanted to get myself another coffee, I refilled my cup and this time went with the non-dairy creamer. I even remember what it looked like: old wrinkled package with simple coloring. I also member Hollering out to old Einstein in front to try not to blow his a** up, but I don’t reckon he even bothered to answer me. Mine eyes fell back to that old creamer, it looked like one them newspapers from last week, and uneven and dirty like. I reckon the meaning of me knowin the pack of creamer so d*** good was probably cause when I had it in my hands I also felt a tube pushin in my hair, and boy I’ll say, if a dog squats, that barrel was hot. “Don’t move” he said. ‘Don’t move’ I thought, ‘don’t move,’ I d*** near p***ed myself, that a******, ‘don’t move.’ There I stayed, ‘don’t moving,’ stayin my eyes at that god dammed non-dairy creamer. “Gimme dem keys” the boy said. “You know how to pull that rig?” I wanted to look the bas**** in the face when I asked him, but I figured he’d shoot my nose off. “Fine” he said, “you take me” “alright,” said I. I figured if this boy was goin down to hell, and I was gonna drive him there, I’d want another cup of coffee. So I ripped open the creamer, but I reckon I only teared it halfway cause that boy, he shot me dead in the face ‘fore I could finish.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback