Todays Big Smiley book 5, 11th. skit. Great morning, everybody, we had a light sprinkling of snow Christmas afternoon. Just enough to make Jake step outside to verify it really was snowing. As for me I think this was the coldest night so far. My car sure looks frosty under the street light. Chapter 11 Sonny had a portable propane camp heater in the feral cats shed at the edge of the woods. At 9:37 at night, it was snowing furiously all around the moon shaped light fixture behind McDonald’s. These cold winter evenings he kept the cats’ and Mulusa’s food and water dishes full. Two of the cats, a gray tabby and a black one, were curled up together on a storage shelf just below the small window, intently watching the large flakes swirl to the ground. As long as Sonny kept his hands to himself the cats crawled close against him of their own accord, but they were still skittish. Whenever he turned over in his military sleeping bag, he had to move carefully so as not to disturb his furry bed warmers. The white rabbit village mascot, Mulusa, had gathered up an entire colony of nine, trapped, fixed and released, feral cats, to safely weather the storm inside Sonny’s midnight guard shack. A few miles away, Karen Beckron had slipped out of her father-in-law’s church Christmas program, taking a big bag purse with her tiny Maltese crammed among a survival pack, while her abusive, religious fanatic husband was busy putting on airs in front of a massive crowd. Along with his fist pounding Bible that he used for a weapon along with his hunter’s rifle collection to frighten his wife into total submission that was never enough. She had heard, but was sworn to silence lest she put at risk others who desperately needed a helping hand, of a new underground mission. Nevertheless, the echo of music and celebration, her cell phone call had been received. Someone was on alert, waiting, now if she could just make it through the extended bright, frosty ice-cycles of Christmas lights, passed darkened streets and too many vacant homes to McDonald’s near Old Main…. After yesterday’s Connecticut massacre, she knew it was time, the eleventh hour, to bind up her hidden wounds and pick up her little dog, Breezy, and make good their escape. John’s gun, a 357, he often put to her head, lay under his pillow, his choking, piano playing fingers on her throat and his taunting threats, “As much as I love you, no one would ever suspect I killed you,” should take priority over all else. This was not the first time she was scared for her life and it was not the first time she had tried to leave. But this might be her last chance. Only a few weeks past, an abused woman had done everything right when she sought help with friends. Now all that was left of her bullet riddled body was a newspaper picture of the back end of an old station wagon, with Impeach Obama traced on the dusty window. Theirs’ was just another Murder-Suicide. She made it safely to the highway when a gray, four wheel drive pickup, sporting Obama-Biden bumper stickers, stopped ahead of her. The man on the passenger side got out to offer her a ride through town and across the railroad tracks as far as she needed to go. The lift gave her a broad jump. That’s when Sonny thought that must be our victim, how strange for such a fashionable lady to be left, carrying a hefty bag, alone on the street. While she was in the restroom, he ordered her a hamburger, medium coke and large fries to share with the little white purse passenger. To introduce himself, Sonny said, “That pup has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” Karen reached to shake hands, whispering, “What do you think about that latest school killing? I’m in the same predicament. If that devil catches me, I’m dead.” “Well,” he answered, “We won’t let that happen.” He called Creg Quinn, the not yet official to his post, newly elected sheriff. Within the hour, Isabelle and Lori Lee were taking snapshots of her scars and bodily bruises, for a just day in court before Superior Judge Fitch Gerald, who was still mad about his sister’s insulting attacker. This battered woman would not be safe until her abuser was taken out of the scene. Sonny and the boys borrowed a set of handcuffs and a fast vehicle to make it to the church parking lot before the Christmas program was let out. They had an identification photograph of the perpetrator. Once there they set a trap for a citizen’s arrest capture of a dangerous deacon who had always thought he was untouchable. All the rough bases had been touched and the counsel men beyond the local jurisdiction were expecting their prisoner. The Bible Brute pleaded, argued and swore until he was dragged up the snowy, mountain trail to the Arapaho Indian Slammer to discuss his case with the Belt Buckle Brute. After breakfast the next morning, where she met Hurshal and Dawnte and some the others, she was reassured that her husband was in lock down, where not even the long arm of his influential father could reach him. Their clear eyed, matter of fact statements were very convincing. “The first thing you need to do is file for a hasty thirty day divorce,” counseled Lori Lee. “I’m divorced so I have an idea what that means.” Absentmindedly, she pulled Pester’s claws loose from her casual jacket. The kitten twisted her head around to get a better look at the little furball, peeking over the edge of his big bag purse. Mercedes walked across the room and glanced out the window at the falling snow. But he had one ear flipped back on their subject. “I still have my personal bank account and a credit card. Do you know how much a divorce will cost?” “Kimberly got her divorce started for a hundred dollars. The legal system here in Aspen County makes allowances for badly abused women. We’ve got about two weeks for the constable to deliver the papers and for the Arapaho Police Department to persuade Beckron not to contest it, like how they managed to convince Spears to do the right thing. Their Chief Wolfgang is a man of little patience. He’s set in his ways.” “You seem to know an awful lot.” I’m the neighborhood psychic and I checked him out on the cards.” “That’s heavy….” Karen reached to pick up her feather weight Breezy to hold him close. “You’d be surprised.” She did not let on that Karen and Breezy was only their second case load, but they were way ahead of most safety nets, because of Andrew’s extra ordinary generosity and his extra ordinary intelligence quotient. (Of course, it was his idea, that at the same time the victim was taken into protective custody, the abusing domineer must also be contained.) “I sure don’t know any better way to jerk loose from that bully.” She gave the pup a kiss of reassurance. His head bobbed in agreement with a flick of the tongue. Then he panted contentedly. “Let’s get the ball rolling,” she smiled bravely, although she was still trembling from the ordeal. Lori Lee put in a call to Legal Aide to print out the necessary forms on the computer and fax them to her copy machine. The whole works didn’t take much more than twenty minutes to fill out a simple no frills action, signed and sealed on the fast track. There was no financial gain to be sought after from her two year marriage. Everything about their irreparable differences they had shared together belonged to the church except for an allowance for modest living expenses. Free, free at last, thoughts jingled like a bell. Karen had to contain herself as she rose up from the chair, to keep from tossing Breezy in the air. “As soon as we kick butt,” she promised, “we’re going back to college to earn my teacher’s degree, my little man!” “That may be arranged easier than you’d think. One of our special agents, Andrew, offers free college courses at Bookers Books cradle to grave educational opportunities.” “Do you mean it?” “I wouldn’t lie to you in front of my little Pester cat and certainly not in front of my Mercedes pit bull.” “And I wouldn’t expect you to. Where would you say my room is? I know it didn’t move, but I get lost real easy… I need some time alone to apologize to Jesus. I thought He had abandoned me in a den full of bad company.” “Right this way— and Merry Christmas, to you both, Karen, and a much happier New Year.” “Oh, I forgot all about that, Merry Christmas to you all, too.” Mercedes reached out his paw to shake hands with her as if he was welcoming her to an Old Main community fresh start, where things sorta happened differently. The bedroom was decorated in soft, peaceful blue and white, and she had a small desk, with a laptop computer and a printer to match. Karen’s brief letter posted with a Christmas card to her in-laws informed them that the couple was taking time out to settle personal problems. To lend an impression that they did not want to have a family argument about a sudden impulse, holiday cut rate, faraway ocean voyage, she added, Please wish us, Happy Sailing. It was confounding when the church master toured the airport two week parking area for a sign of their departure. Luckily she had had a set of keys to her husband’s Chrysler, so it was quickly moved from its reserved carport, without a trace, and put in storage for the time being. Needless to say, Pastor and Mrs. Beckron didn’t believe a word of it, according to them Karen had a mean streak, but until they heard something else, a ransom note for the release of their son, they couldn’t very well call in the Calvary for a Ku Klux Klan parade to march through the Better Up Town Avenue in a Protestant Protest. Sheriff Simpodee had all but dropped his badge and pulled the blinds closed on the Police Department. His own wife claimed he was a basket case.
Posted on: Fri, 26 Dec 2014 11:00:46 +0000
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