An Itty Bitty Murder on the Way to Long Lane

The boys didn’t know how to tell grandma they hadn’t gotten any money from the paint job or what all Miss Wainright said, which if they recalled correctly, you can’t really do with your hand or your buttocks. There’s a time and place for everything. So the boys waited for the right time to break the news. As they walked home they did remember Homer at the general store, needing a hand at pumping gas. Maybe it would overshadow the days events if they could find another job before they got home.

The fact that such bad catastrophes had taken place was irrelevant compared to the good that had come out of it. The towns people could not or would not look past the later. People always want to see the bad in something instead of the good. All of this would be found out later and perhaps make a difference. Perhaps.

Grandma never did ask so they didn’t say anything. Of course, grandma wasn’t much on asking questions given her altered state of reality, so the boys continued their ever striving venture to make Grandma proud. The next day they would be starting the job at Homer’s Gas n’ Bag, a small general store with two gas pumps out front. This would be their job - pumping gas. Homer, like everyone else, knew the boys grandmother and wanted to give the boys a chance. He had heard about Widow Avery’s barn, mule, etc. and he read about Miss Wainright’s bright green head-turner on the main street. It had been said that it was a good thing Miss Wainright couldn’t get into her house due to all that paint. Apparently a water line broke in the house and a cotton mouth was running around in there. The snake ate her cat and everyone heard the paint fumes were so strong, it killed the snake. Who would have thought it.

The pump job wasn’t to last either. Common sense does go a long way, but so does coordination. When Mr. Henry pulled up in his new Model T, he asked the boys to fill it up. Homer felt pretty confident leaving the boys to do the job since he had spent the better part of an hour just showing them how to use the pump. While Mr. Henry entered the store and made a few purchases, the boys began the process of filling the tank. Some how the line got tangled and the pump wouldn’t shut off leaving both boys looking like they were starring in a mud wrestling feature with a boa constrictor. All of this was unseen by those in the store. Mr. Henry came out with his bags as the boys went around the side of the building to hose themselves off with water. Homer followed Mr. Henry out to his truck with one of the bags he had left on the counter. They started up their conversation again as Mr. Henry placed the bags in the bed of the truck. It was a windy day and Mr. Henry was a smoking man. With the strike of a match and the pump still running, a small crater was formed. It was later said they found parts of that truck in the next county.

Homer was furious to say the least. He now had a stock pond where his gas pumps were formerly located. Mr. Henry was singed from head to toe and no one knew if he’d ever grow his hair back, anywhere. Homer didn’t want this to be another black mark on the boys reputation, but word was already all over town - along with the debris.

Grandma may have had problems with her synapses not firing quite right, but she wasn’t deaf. She heard everything being said about her boys. When she wasn’t reliving past events from her days in the "entertainment" field, she could be as focused as the next guy. She had it in mind (this term used loosely) to help the boys out. Sheltering them would only protect them for so long, they would have to learn how to support themselves. If they didn’t learn it now, at the ripe ages of thirty- then when. Grandma wouldn’t be around forever and she knew it. She’d give a little shove, use a little persuasion to find, just maybe, the last person in town who would hire the boys.