CRUDDY Read Online Free PDF Page B

thought he could have been a famous singer and maybe it’s true.
    He talked to Old Dad. Old Dad, you bastard. Old Dad, you lying sack of shit. He glugged Old Skull Popper and every once in a while he talked to Marie Cardall, another sack of shit, just like her husband. He threw cig after cig out the open window and a couple of them got sucked back in and landed in the backseat. I smelled the smoke before he did. And then he shouted, “SON OF A BITCH!” and slammed on the brakes. I was thinking we were on fire, but it was a roadblock.
    Troopers came to the car from four directions with strong flashlights and the flying night bugs were going wild. The father hated troopers. He hated all cops, but troopers most of all.
    “Hands on the steering wheel where I can see them.” A blinding flashlight beam shot around the inside of the car and hit me in the eyes. When the trooper saw me he lowered it. He said, “Sorry there, sweetheart. Don’t be scared.” The father whipped his head and when he saw me his eyes went wide.
    “Daddy,” I said. Reaching up my hands to him just like he taught me. If we were ever stopped by cops it was what I was supposed to do. Call him Daddy. Act scared. Start to cry. And if I could manage to throw up, that would be handy.
    “Aw, honey, I’m sorry,” said the trooper. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Did I wake you up?”
    “It’s OK, ’Berta,” said the father, and he reached back for me and pulled me over into the front seat. There were times when it was handy for me to be a girl. It was one of those times. I pushed my face into the father’s shoulder and wondered if I should barf or not. It would have been no problem. I’d been feeling carsick for miles.
    “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. Can I see some ID?” The trooper leaned his head in the window.
    “I’m looking,” said the father. He was digging in his pockets for his wallet and trying to keep his face down so the Old Skull Popper fumes wouldn’t rise up the trooper’s nose. I could see how nervous he was. I said, “Daddy?” I pointed to the torqued-out rectangle of leather on the dashboard. “You looking for that?”
    “Oh thank Jesus. Yes. Yes, baby doll. Thank-you.” The father handed his license the trooper and said, “She’s the brains of this operation.”
    The trooper smiled and shined his flashlight into the backseat again.
    “Something burning in there?” Wispy smoke was curling up from the clothes.
    The father yanked the clothes out of the backseat while the trooper took his license and registration back to call it in and the other men shut their flashlights off and went back to talking with one another. The father threw a few looks my way and shook his head a couple of times and laughed under his breath. “Missed your old man, huh, Clyde? Couldn’t stand to see me go, is that right? Don’t worry. I’m not going to whip you. You just saved my ass, son. When we get out of this, I’m going to buy you a hamburger.”
    The father found the smoldering clothes and stamped them out. The trooper came back with his ID and handed it back through the window. He had a warm bottle of RC. “This is for your little girl. Wish it was cold for her.”
    “It don’t matter,” said the father, passing it my way. “She’s a garbage gut. She’ll eat and drink anything you put in front of her.” I hated pop but I took a drink anyway.
    The father said, “You hunting that escapee from Elkwood? Is that what this is about?”
    The trooper lifted his eyebrows. “You know something about it?”
    “Heard he blew her arm off point-blank. Heard she was bled out terrible by the time they brought her in. My wife worked on her. She’s a nurse at St. Martha’s.”
    The trooper bounced a look off of me and then back at the father like he should know better than to talk about something like that in front of a little girl.
    He said, “Your license said Rohbeson.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Rohbeson’s