The Blue was singing the Blues.
Larry didn't mean to complain. It just started pouring out.
"I miss pineapple, Walter." He eased back into his rocking chair. "I really do."
"Hell, Walter," mused his friend, Walter. "You couldn't afford it even if we had it. The last pineapple I saw was $21 at the Pig."
"That was more than a year ago!" Larry shifted his massive bulk in the rocker. It was his habit to sit out on the porch of County Boy's Gassed 'n' Goed for an hour or so early in the morning before the heat got oppressive. Often, he would be joined by his skinny, one-eyed partner in inertia, Walter Strickland. Sometimes, Walter had his glass eye. On other days, he didn't want to mess with it and wore an eyepatch. Today was an eyepatch day.
Larry Blue would spend much of his time singing the Blues. Woe is me; look how much I have been put upon, weren't times better in yesteryear? Of course, Larry was careful enough not to define what yesteryear was. But they knew what he meant.
"What do you miss, Walter? Surely, you must miss somethin'. What do you miss most of all?"
Walter's eye misted. "I miss Julie."
Oh, now Larry had stepped into it. He should've known better. Julie is Larry's daughter, who now must be close to 30, Larry thought. But Walter hadn't seen her in years. Julie left just before the borders were closed. She left a note to Walter and her mother, Janeen, indicating that she was going to the Great Lakes Union. Occasionally, they would get a smuggled letter from her, but the last one was over a year ago. Walter knew she married. He knew he was a grandfather, a granddaughter he might never see.
"Sorry, Walter. Of course, you miss your daughter. And here I am going on about some ridiculous fruit. Sometimes I can be an insensitive jerkwater." At least Larry didn't have to go through that. All the Blues were within a hundred miles of each other, more or less.
Mildred started to come up the steps. "You boys got nothing better to do than to sit here and whine all day?" She was short and stocky but with solid muscle, unlike Larry's bubbling blubber. Her hair was close-cropped. She used to have a mohawk, colored powder blue. She used to have piercings in her nose, lips, and tongue, but they had long since closed up. The only piercings left were her ears (at least piercings visible to the general public). She had tattoos, of which only the ones on her arms were visible. You could keep your tattoos as long as they hadn't been deemed sacrilegious.
Walter spit out part of his chaw. "I'm doing 'zactly what I want to do. How about you, Mildred?"
"I'm hitting on all cylinders, boys. Just gotta get some feed so I can tend to my animals. Responsibilities, ya know?"
"You're looking good, Mildred," Larry complimented. "Nice to see you out and about."
Mildred guffawed at Larry's ingratiations. "You look mighty tight in that rocker, Larry. Maybe Herschel should install you a double wide." Herschel was the owner of the Country Boy.
Sometimes it don't pay to be nice, Larry thought. Kindness was a basic human value; that's what Jesus taught. Even if it didn't seem to be held up as such anymore.
"Well, I can't just jaw with you two knuckleheads all day. I got mouths to feed." She bounded past them and went into the store.
Even if he wouldn't say it out loud, Larry had to admit that he was a little sweet on Mildred. Even dressed in her everyday apparel of cowboy boots, work jeans, and muscle shirt, she held appeal to him. Yeah, there were rumors about Mildred, but Larry chose to ignore them.
None of that was talked about anymore because the consequences would be dire if it could be proved.
Dire, indeed.
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