And this is my suspicious hillbilly story

And the soldier just kept talkin


"So I figured what the hell, and I drove the truck right, like he said."

"And that's when you hit the river?"

"Nah, man. I just kept going until he said stop, and then when he said stop we started sinking."

"Oh shit."

"So I tried to drive it, but it wouldn't go, and the whole time we're sinknig, so I just said 'fuck this' and jumped out!"

"Hell yeah!"

"Yeah, so now there's a million dollar piece of equipment stuck in the mud somewhere out there, I figure we could sell it if we track it down."

"And you need to use my truck to get it out?"

"Yeah, for a cut of the profit. I'll give you five percent if you take me there and pull the thing."

"Five percent?"

"Five percent of a million is at least ten grand, right?"

"...yeah..."

"Alright, seven percent."

"Well, how far out is it?"

"It's about a hundred fifty miles, out in the northern section of the swamps out there."

"Well is there a trail leading to it?"

"Yeah...it might be old, though. You wouldn't be able to find it. I would. That's why I'm taking such a big part of the profits. I put the vehicel there, I know where to find it, and I know where to sell it. All you have to do is come with me and haul it out."

"Well seems like none of it would be possible without me doing the hauling."

"Listen, there's another truck around here somewhere, and I'll find it."

"Sorry son, there's not."

"I'll bet there is."

"Shoot. Alright. I'll go, just because you're so certain. But I want ten percent."

"Done."

"Alright, when do we leave?"

"We leave as soon as you can start the truck and get us gone."

"Let me lock up."

So they get in the tow truck with flames painted on the side and an armchair in the bed so that it faces rear, strapped into the vehicle with bright yellow tie-downs crimped so that stuffing pops out of its many holes, its floral pattern only really discernable along the seams, in the right light. Otherwise it was more of a mottle bleached greenish pink color, with the footrest stuck in the 'up' position. Paid a dollar for it and a better dollar was never spent on a find piece of equipment such as that. 

I remember the first time I sat in that chair. It was freezing cold out, dead of winter and Sam was driving It was our vehicle of choice for tearing around the countryside, and I had one of those hats with ears on it keeping my head warm, and that old flannel jacket with the good boots. I had it all then, but didn't know it. Warm food and warm clothes. But at the time, I was freezing fucking cold and could barely hold the shotgun straight to shoot and pull, but it happened somehow, since I managed to gun down the three Jones brothers chasing us on horseback. See, you can't see it, but we got it fixed so when you put down that footrest, you put up five or six layers of sheet metal in a wall in front of you, with just enough clearance so you can se around you if you lean far enough out. Keeps you protected, so long as nothing is directly to the side of you, but we figured, at the time, it would be good enough. 

So we stole that hog the Jones' had raised up, and loaded it in the cab with just enough room for Sam at the wheel. It was a right fit, and we just got the thing in when the dog realizes what's happening and sets up howling and the lights come on and they're all yelling and shots going off. We'd agreed that he'd drive and I'd shoot cause I didn't feel like getting mauled by a scared hog in tight quarters, but Sam said he'd rather do that than the bullets, so we set off down the road in the truck and the Jones brothers lit out after. 

We hadn't got more than a mile down the road when we had to slow down. There was potholes about every square foot, so he had to swerve and go slow around the curves to keep us from getting stuck, and next thing you know here come the horses galloping like hell, with all three brothers aiming right at my head. I slammed down on that footrest so hard the sheet metal bent back when it sprang up, and pulled out the shotgun. There's bullets bouncing off the metal, and you could see the outline of them on it in front of me. I know now if you fire in one spot long enough eventually something's gonna get through, so I started shooting back. 

Now, they had pistols and I had a shotgun with buckshot, so I figured if I just point it around the corner of the metal and pul the trigger I'll hit something, since I can hear the horse hooves like they're right on me. But the first two shots must've went wide, because they kept coming and not a single sound was made. So I brought my gun back around to my side and reloaded another two rounds. (they're not cheap and I only had thirty in the chair with me). And this time I sort of peeked around the edge of the metal to see what there was to see. And as soon as I did, all three of them pointed their guns at me, but only one of them got off a shot near my head, and the other two landed in the cab somewhere, because I heard the hog squeal and Sam cursed. But I had seen where they were and this time I made sure to aim careful, when I fired around the corner. And sure enough, I hit something, because I heard one of them yell, and the other two yelled back at him, and I looked around again, and there were only two. 

So Sam kept weaving and they kept dancing their horses around the potholes and trying their best to catch up. Eventually they did, because one of them came up along side of me, right up alongside, and aimed his gun right at my head. I thought it was over right then and there, that was the end, and my barrel was empty because I'd just fired, and I was in the middle of reloading, so I just sat there and stared him right in the eyes and waited for him to pull the trigger. But all of a sudden he turned his gun on Sam and fired into the cab! 

Well, I didn't know if Sam was hit right then, but I took aim the second he moved his gun, and fired, because one brother was easier to take down than two, whether Sam was dead or alive. And lo and behold, I found out what the Jones' brothers done to stay alive so long: The buckshot put big holes all over his shirt, and I saw that underneath they'd strapped together metal pieces and leather pieces and put them under their clothes, and now there was a big chunk of metal being pounded into this man's side by a double load of buckshot, and he fell full off his horse, dead or alive I have no idea. 

That left one more brother, and him gaining on me the whole time I was concentrated on the second one, and he was right there next to me, this time aiming at me the whole time, but in his concentration on ending my life he failed to see the pothole underneath his horses hooves, and that poor thing shrieked like a demon while it went down, most likely with a broken leg. 

So we drove on the next twenty miles out into the frozen swamp without incident, Sam still driving careful and the pig chewing on the seats a bit, but otherwise not making much trouble, until we got home and unloaded him and got him corralled in the back. I asked Sam, "Are you hurt?" And he says he's gotten winged by that second bastard on the horse, but nothing serious. Two days later, though, the bullet wound had turned all green and gangrenous and stank like hell, and a week after that Sam was dead. And there was nothing to do for me but eat the rest of the pork myself, and salt what didn't go bad. 

What I couldn't eat, I used for bait in our gator traps and made the meat last longer that way, so thanks to that hog I ended up eating gator  for a little while, and then it was back to trapping baby crabs and vegetables again. I never found out what happened to the other Jones brothers, but I did adopt their tradition of wearing a layer of metal and leather underneath of my clothes, and it served me well more than once. So in the same way the pig got me gator meat, the chair got me body armor, and the truck got me a jeep from the dumbass soldier thought he could sell it for a million dollars. 

So I know what you're thinkin, "What happened to the soldier at the beginning?" Well, we'd found the vehicle and we were towing it back home when it got stuck in the mud. Now, I don't know if you've ever seen one of those military jeeps, but they're heavy as hell, and we were just barely rolling forward with the engine going as hard as I was about to let it, when I felt us lose traction. I moved the wheels from side to side like you're sposed to, but nothing was going but for us to try to push it out. So he got out and starts pushing when one of the tie downs come lose and snapped him right in the face and neck, so he had a big purple stripe and a good deep cut all the way across. It didn't look too bad, and we kept pushing and I managed to get it unstuck by jamming some rocks underneath of the wheels for traction, and we were on our way. 

But it was still over a hundred mile drive back home going zero miles and hour, and that took time, so by the time we made it home two days had gone by and I could tell it had already gotten infected, and sure enough he starts complaining about how his wound hurts him, and do I have any sterilized water. Sterilized water? I said, we don't do that here. And so next thing you know, he's in bed complaining of a fever, and a couple days after that he was dead. So I took him out and respectfully buried him next to where Sam was laying, and there he rests to this day, and now I've got this Jeep like I got the hog.