At Thy Request Monster, I Shall Reason

Officer Martin Jergins walked to the front of Blanton’s post office and threw himself down on a wooden bench. He pulled out a tattered blue handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead and the back of his neck, reclining into the warm bench. His legs were sore from the morning patrol, and it was just too goddamn hot to be strolling the dusty streets much longer. Besides, it was only a little past one o’clock in the afternoon, the schools hadn’t let out yet, and most of the towns occupants were still at work, if not returning from their lunch hour.

His stomach groaned at the thought of lunch, and he idly contemplated heading into the Uptowne Café and grabbing a turkey club and some ice tea. He wondered if the old woman would be working today, or if her young daughter Juliet would be behind the counter. He replaced the handkerchief into his back pocket and grinned at the thought of young Juliet in the air conditioned café.

“How’d it goin, Off’cer Jergins?” A raspy drawl from behind the bench.

Jergins straightened a little in the bench, sitting upright and turning to face the voice. He knew who it belonged to, of course. He greeted the man, and moved over on the bench to make room for him, as Leon always looked about ready to fall down some place if you didn’t offer him a seat fast enough.

Leon Kentwood was always hanging around the post office, or across the street at the Rosebud Tobacco and Cigar. The old man was haggard and thin, his face mapped with the all the journeys which came with living in the town of Blanton. His hands were large and scarred, the nails seemingly always black with grease or tobacco resin. He always had long sleeved flannel shirts tucked into scraggled jeans despite the heat, but never seemed to notice the large moisture spots of sweat which stained the arm pits.

“Don’t believe it muh self, but uh Janice back dere in the Post Office told me they’re fixin’ to raise stamps again? You believe that, sir?” Kentwood joined Jergins on the bench and pulled out a pack of Benson and Hedges.

Jergins agreed that no, he could not believe that the price of stamps was going up another nickel.

“It’s jus like I pictured it, en everythan.” Leon muttered, striking a match on his boot and inhaling deeply on his cigarette. He offered a smoke to Jergins, and after hesitating, Jergins accepted. Leon noticed his pause.

“Wife making ya quit again, sir?” He said with a sly grin.

“You know it, ol’ boy. She took my pipe and threw it out with the rubbish last Wednesday. Said if I don’t quit, she’s gonna leave me. I told her if she kept yanking my pipes, I’d be leaving anys ways.” Both men laughed as Jergins lit his Benson, looking down the street casually, in case his wife happened to be in town today.

“Ain’t that broads though, eh?” Leon crossed his legs, and flicked his ashes onto the sidewalk. Jergins nodded slowly without saying anything, enjoying the smooth golden flavor of an expensive cigarette with the hot sun on his back. It was a fine day in his town, and at that moment, sitting next to old man Kentwood, enjoying a smoke, he was entirely happy in his life.

A large rumbling vibrated the air, like small explosions going off somewhere down the horizon. He could feel the air pushing against his face from the force of the noise, and see dust rising up down the street. At first Jergins was reminded of artillery shells in Korea, but that image quickly flashed from his mind.

“What in the damn hell...” Leon started, sitting up straight, starring down the street searching for the source of the noise. Almond eyes wide, the man looked outraged at whatever force had the nerve to abruptly end his mid day dreams.

Kicking up dust on the horizon, and speedily approaching the two men on the bench, a red foreign made automobile blazed through cross walks and yield signs. As it grew closer, the awful wails of distortions and thrashing percussion instruments could be heard under the thumps of the bass. The car slowed briefly, then accelerated again and blew by the two men, including Jergins, an officer of the law. Jergins could not view the driver through the tinted windows, but could only imagine the shit head teenager behind the wheel.

“Christ on the cross.” Leon’s jaw gaped open in disbelief. “What the damn hell was that? You see that, Of’cer Jergins?” The old man turned to Jergins, still wide eyed.

“Yup.”

“Damn shit for brains. Driving all around like that gonna kill some one, ya know that? Ya reckon ‘bout doing anything ‘bout that feller?” Leon looked hopefully at Jergins.

“Dunno if I can...ain’t all ‘em like that now adays, anyways? These boys dumping any and all their savings into cars and music...seems like ‘to hell with the future’. That’s their attitudes now.”

“Ain’t that the truth. I still remember when we were young, Off’cer Jergins, that some things were sacred. Now, I dunno...everything is questioned. This world’s gone to shit, ain’t it Off’cer Jergins?”
“Yessir.” Jergins stood looking down the vast road, the dust still settling. He shifted his pants around his crotch, then sat back down on the bench. He pulled out another cigarette, and after a slight hesitation began smoking. After another moment he began enjoying himself. Leon stood at the road, looking haplessly in case the car roared back again. He kept his back to Jergins, but after a while he sat back down and joined him.

Regards, Esortnom