The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #60096   Message #973963
Posted By: GUEST,Buck Shinbiter
28-Jun-03 - 04:47 PM
Thread Name: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
Subject: RE: Mudcat Bad Writing Contest (Enter Often)
He was 6 ft three in his stockinged feet, 200 pounds of muscle, and a crew cut so thick and stiff it could have insulated his head from a dropped bowling ball. He wore faded jeans, work boots, a white tee shirt with a pack of Marlboros rolled up in the sleeve. The vehicle he drove was a rusted Ford Bronco with a bumper sticker that said "Don't like my driving? Call 1-800-eatshit". He punched the clock ten minutes late in the morning and ten minutes early in the afternoon, but the Foreman said nothing because he was afraid he'd get the crap kicked out of him. He ate lunch with Ferd and Banger, two scrawny nerds who viewed him both as a protector and a repressor. His diatribes could be heard from 100 yards away, because shouting was his normal tone of voice. Nobody argued with his boneheaded opinions about blacks, Jews, liberals, tree-huggers and homosexuals, because they were tired of leaving work to find their tires slashed.

On the way home to his mother's house, he usually stopped at Big Mike's Bar, where he would play pool, taunting his opponent if he won, accusing him of cheating if he lost. Some women found his style attractive, the kind of women with low self-esteem and blue marks on their faces. He sometimes took them out to the parking lot for grim sweaty sessions in the back of his truck, sessions which ended with growled threats and the sound of footsteps fleeing through the gravel.

Most people who knew him hated him, and were darkly pleased to hear that he had hung himself by a bra strap in a jail cell early one Sunday morning. They were, however, genuinely shocked to hear he had been arrested for shoplifting exotic undergarments while dressed as a woman. Some of the neighbors brought hot dishes to his mother in an attempt at consolation. She accepted them wordlessly and ate them at the kitchen table in the yellow haze shed by a naked 35 watt bulb. Two days after his funeral, his truck was seen parked by the front curb with a sign that read "$400 or Best Offer", and a Room to Let sign was placed in his bedroom window.