The Slum Lord of Magnolia Street

Archie crouched in the passenger seat of the El Dorado, trying to stay out of sight, but at the same time seeing what his boys were doing.  There was no use pretending.  Nothing got him more excited than watching an eviction.  Well, that and a car repo.

He took a deep, gulping drag on his Marlboro. He exhaled, and coughed violently.  He knew how to avoid cancer and emphysema.  Whenever he had a doctor tell him he had to quit smoking, he would quit the doctor instead.  This, he was convinced, helped him stay alive. 

His dog, sitting in the driver's seat, sneezed strongly enough to shake the car.  Buster Moves was a large, overweight bulldog that was not very bright, but loyal to Archie.  The dog had no comprehension of the dangers of second hand smoke. "Take it easy, Buster Moves,' complained Archie.  "Don't fog up the windows."  It was an unusually chilly mid-November evening, just a week before Thanksgiving.

The family being bounced was a black family.  Black is not the word Archie would've used.  Let's leave it at that and you can fill in the rest.  This only increased his pleasure at watching the eviction.  Right now, the dark skinned mother was pleading with Sandy Harley, one of Archie's "assistants".  Look at that lazy darkie beg!  Tell her off, Sandy!  Put that bitch in her place!

Sandy Harley was joined by Digger Crowley, Archie's nephew, and the only one of his brother's family he could stomach.  And that included his raggedy ass brother.  He couldn't believe that their Daddy, Kevin Reginald Crowley left the same amount of money, and Reggie was now the richest man in the county.  Archie squandered most of his on high living and bad investments, until he was left with nothing but some slum properties (mostly along Magnolia Street, as was the property he was watching today), a used car lot, and a storage rental place.  But they all allowed him to do what he enjoyed most - take things from people.  Take what little was left to those down on their fortune.  The irony of that was completely lost on him.

The advantage of Sandy and Digger, and a few of the other thugs he hired, was that he could pay them under the table.  That way his workers could make this side gravy without having to report it.  Of course, Archie counted the expense in his taxes - oh yez, indeed!  He just listed it as "repairs and maintenance".  That is, up until a couple of weeks ago.  Damn Gariton Hollander at Houston Grave's CPA firm caught wind while updating Archie's books.  Not only that, Houston Sr. looked like he was going to back Gariton up.  Bunch of pompous stuffed shirts!  He bet his brother, Reggie, didn't have that problem.  Now that little prick Gariton was on the verge of finding other stuff.  He couldn't have that.

Now the woman was joined by some squalling children, maybe three or four.  They were kind of a blur to Archie.  One clung to her bed as Sandy and Digger carried it out,  Digger and Sandy both were very large boys, bulky verging on fat, but both very strong.  They could have slung that little child from the bed, but they chose just to let he cling.  As much Archie wanted to see her slung twenty feet into the air and come crashing down into the street, he realized that might cause more trouble than it was worth.

Speaking of trouble, he groaned as he heard the siren sound.  It was that damn nosy sheriff, Alan Steel, and his fat, prissy deputy, Davis Gorland.  How did that interfering do-gooder ever get elected?  How did his brother and their rich friends ever allow that to happen?  Now he had to suffer the consequences.  Sheriff Steel had already shut him down with an injunction earlier in the year, until he fixed some plumbing problems in a few of his homes.  Of all the nerve!  Why was it his responsibility if the homes he rented could no longer get running water?  Of course, Archie delayed all actual repairs unless he had a gun to his head, and he damned Sheriff Steel for putting it there.

That damn black woman was pleading with that bleeding heart Sheriff, and Sandy and Digger just sat on the lawn as if their day was done.  The Sheriff shook his head and started to come over.  Archie squirmed but he couldn't figure out how to get away.

"Good morning, Archie.  Kinda cold out to be evicting someone, ain't it?" the Sheriff said, hunkered down to Archie's eye level, as Archie stayed in the car. Buster Move gently wagged his hind quarters, but otherwise did not bust any kind of moves,

"I got my rights, Sheriff," Archie huffed.  "She's two months behind.  Legally, I don't even to have given her that much time.  You know that!"

"That's right, Archie.  You and legal exactitude.  Like two peas in a pod.  Why can't you at least give her to the end of the month?  Let her enjoy Thanksgiving, and then if she can't work out an arrangement, why I'll come and help you with the eviction."

"No, it's time," said Archie defiantly.  Then he started to cough violently.  Man, he thought.  That almost tasted like blood.

The Sheriff expelled a deep sigh.  "How much does she owe you, Archie?" 

"Twelve Hundred dollars.  That's two months rent plus two hundred dollars for damages beyond the deposit."

The Sheriff was astounded.  "You charge Five Hundred a month for that paper shack?  You know, Archie, I always thought you were human scum, but now I'm beginning to realize I thought too highly of you."

"I got expenses to cover.  I ain't doing this out of the goodness of my heart."

"That's for sure."  The Sheriff reached into his wallet and pulled out a hundred and five twenties.  "Here.  Two hundred bucks should give the next two weeks.  Of course, I'm going to want a receipt.  Somehow you don't have the most trustworthy reputation."

"What is the matter with you?  You can't save all those people.  They're untrustworthy, destructive, and lazy!"

Sheriff Steel gave a sly grin.  "Now, Archie, I wish you wouldn't talk about yourself that way.  Do we have a deal or not?"

This was going nowhere.  It was not going to be worth the fight.  He took the money.  "December 1st, then.  You know this is still going to turn out the same way.  What is wrong with you, anyway?  Why aren't you spending your time going after jaywalkers, or burglars and bandits and such?"

"Bandits?  Why, Archie, I though that's what I was doing."