Right Tools for the Job

Right Tools for the Job


Bubba woke and rolled out of bed just after noon.  A bit early for him but with his head splitting the way it was he couldn’t sleep anyway.  He staggered to the bathroom.  In the mirror above the sink he saw a red-eyed pathetic loser staring back at him.  He slapped several handfuls of cold water on his face, toweled it off and looked again.  It didn’t help.  His headache, appearance and demeanor were just as ragged as before.  “What’s the use?” he thought.  He heard Bitzy banging around in the kitchen.  “How does that woman do it?”  No matter how late she got in bed she was always up by 11:00 every morning.

Bubba half walked, half fell down the stairs.  “Will you stop bangin’ them  pots and pans around?  How’s a man supposed to sleep?”

Bitzy looked up to see Bubba leaning against the doorjamb.  “Sorry Bubba,” she said.  “I didn’t know I was makin’ so much noise.  Go on back to bed Honey Bun, I’ll be as quite as a mouse.  I know how you need your sleep.”

Bubba wasn’t about to let her off by telling her the truth.  He couldn’t be too hard on her though after all she did keep the place livable, even if she couldn’t cook worth a damn.  “Too late for that.  There ain’t no way I can sleep now.”  In an unusual bit of compassion, he said, “Don’t worry about it.  Just get me some coffee, the 100 percent Columbian kind.”

Bitzy now knew something wasn’t right.  Whenever Bubba wanted the 100 percent and not his usual 50-50 he was probably bad hungover.  He looked pretty much normal, kinda slouched over, red-eyed and disorderly.  Maybe his eyes were a little redder than when he was completely sober.  It was hard to remember, but she knew it wasn’t more than a year or two ago.  “Got a headache, baby?  You want an aspirin with your coffee?”

“Yeah, just get the bottle, my coffee and some peace and quiet.”

Bubba stuck 4 or 5 aspirin in his mouth; at this point, who was counting?  He then took a long sip of his 100 percent Columbian to wash them down.  Yech!  His mama once told him, before she left, that the best medicine always tasted the worst.

Bubba laid his head on the table, raising it occasionally to take another sip of his coffee.  After about half an hour he started to feel like he wasn’t going to die after all.  He looked across the table at Bitzy who was just quietly daydreaming whatever daydreams Bitzy daydreamed.  “Got anything to eat in this dump?”

Bitzy said, “We got some Krispy Krunch cereal.  The milk’s just a little sour.  Want me to get you some?”

Right now Krispy Krunch and sour milk was probably the last thing in the world he wanted.  Bubba said, “No, just get me some more coffee…my usual 50-50 this time.”

Bitzy was glad Bubba was feeling better.  She got up to make him his coffee, 50 percent coffee, 50 percent vodka.  It had to be measured exactly right.  Bubba could tell if it was off just a little one way or the other.  When it came to coffee, Bubba was a real connoisseur.

Bubba took a sip.  Ahh, now that’s real coffee.  Still, the events of last night had left him totally depressed.

Bitzy wasn’t too good at sensing anything, but she could tell Bubba was certainly thinking about something.  “You wanna tell me what’s botherin’ you?”

Bubba said, “Yeah, I guess I need to talk it out.  You think I’m a big loser, Bitz?”

Bitzy was careful with this one, “Why no, you sure ain’t no loser, big or little.”

Bubba said, “You might change your mind when I tell you ‘bout last night.”  He went on, “Well, you know that liquor store across town?  Well I been casin’ the place for awhile.  They ain’t been hit in three, four months, so I figured it was about time.  I drove my old Malibou down there then went in and just walked around checkin’ it out real careful.  I picked up a fifth of the good Jim Beam.  When I was sure there weren’t nobody else around I went up to the counter.  That little clerk in there couldn’t have weighed more’n 110 pounds if you soaked him in oil and vinegar.  Course I had my long-coat on.  I sat that bottle on the counter and pulled my shovel outa my coat.  My cup’s empty,” he said while sliding it across the table to Bitzy.

Bubba patiently waited while Bitzy refilled his cup with 50-50 before continuing.  “Well I pulled out my shovel and said, ‘OK, give me everything you got or I’m gonna whack you with this here shovel.’

That little jerk said, ‘This is everything I got,’ just as he was a pullin’ out this big old hogleg.  You know what a hogleg is?  You know from watchin’ all them Westerns on TV.  Well this was a hogleg and a half.  I swear I coulda put my fist inside that barrel if’n I ‘as close enough.  Course I wasn’t and I weren’t about to get no closer.  Tell you it liked to scared me out of my skin, then he started squintin’ one eye and pullin’ the hammer back on that cannon.”

Bubba slid his empty cup to Bitzy.  “This time leave out the Columbian.”  When she sat back down Bubba lowered his head and said, “That’s when I turned chicken--Chicken and a loser.  I grabbed my bottle and ran as hard as I could go for the door.  I ‘as halfway through that door when I heard that first shot.  I could feel the wind off that sucker.  I made it through the door but my damned shovel got hung up.  I tried to get it when the second shot went off.  Glass was a flyin’ everwhere.  That’s when I turned all yellow, a total loser.  I jumped in my old Malibou and never let off the gas till I got to the lake.  Man I was a shakin’ so bad I couldn’t hardly get the cap off’n that Beam.  Me and old Jim sat there on the hood of my Malibou for maybe an hour, maybe more.  Then I got in and started her up.  That damned car jumped right in the lake.  No account piece o’ junk wasn’t worth nothin’ anyway.  I remember swimmin’ around in the lake and that’s about it till you started kickin’ them pots and pans around.  Just sit that bottle right here.”

Bitzy said, “Oh don’t be silly Bubba.  Course you’re not a chicken loser.  You did what any right thinkin’ man woulda done.  You coulda got yourself shot, then where would that leave me.”

“Yeh, damn them guns and them that’s always wantin’ to shoot a feller.  Them no-good, rotten…” Bubba rattled off a string of expletives in an order Bitzy was sure he had never used before.

Bubba downed some more vodka to calm himself a little.  He said, “You know Bitz, I’m a shovel man, always was, always will be.  There ain’t no finer tool around.  I hate to think I got to go out and get me a gun just so’s I can make a livin’.”

Bitzy squeaked out, “Well, I guess you could get you one if you wanted, but wouldn’t it be better to just get a job like regular people?”

Bubba said, “I ain’t regular people and I ain’t no gun man, I’m a shovel man, I told you.  I don’t want no other job and I don’t want no gun, I just don’t want nobody else a havin’ one either.  You just don’t know how fine a weapon a good shovel can be in the hands of a professional.  Now don’t be givin’ me that look.  You know I only walloped you a little and it was for your own good--straightened you right out.  Well, a shovel can be used for more’n just wallopin’.  Just turn that edge a little and it’s real good for whackin’ too.  In the right hands a shovel is one of them weapons of mass destruction, ‘specially in a liquor store.”

Bubba was feeling a lot better.  That vodka was sure doin’ the trick.  Have to keep that in mind.  From now on no more bourbon, he was a vodka man.  He was thinking much clearer now.  He weren’t no loser, no coward at all.  He remembered something his mama told him ‘fore she run off, “He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.”  He had fought and run away yesterday.  Tonight was another day.  Tonight he’d be a teachin’ that dried up little clerk about shovel fightin’.  Yes sir, this was about honor, of course he was still gonna clean out that cash register before he left.

It was going on 8:00 p.m.  Bubba figured it was about time.  He had his plan worked out.  He’d go down to that liquor store and show that little twerp what it meant to mess with Bubba Jones.  Bubba had a feeling he was forgetting something.  Sometimes a quart of vodka in your belly can cause you to overlook a few details.

He went upstairs and found his long-coat; it was almost dry now.  He went to Bitzy’s jewelry box, checking over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t sneaking around following him.  He opened the box to retrieve his stash.  'Huh, only three joints, I thought they ‘as four.'  Well, he was probably wrong.  This should be the best place to hide his stash, after all he had already pawned what little jewelry Bitzy had and there wouldn’t be no reason for her to look there if she’d been snoopin’ around.

Bubba went back downstairs and to the kitchen where Bitzy was still sitting at the table.  He was in such a good mood he pulled his last twenty out of his pocket and slapped it down on the table.  'That’s OK,' he thought.  'In a couple hours I’ll have my pockets full of money.'  Bubba said, “Bitzy baby, take this here twenty and order us a pizza.  Get whatever you want on it.  I’ve got to go to work for a couple hours.  Don’t wait on me, you know I like mine cold.”

It only took about ten minutes to walk to Ed’s place.  There he pulled out two joints and gave one to Ed.  Bubba figured Ed owed him, but Ed could be difficult if you didn’t soften him up a little.  They were down to their last couple tokes when Bubba said, “I need to borrow your truck and a shovel for a couple hours.”

Ed said, “Sure.”

Bubba thought maybe he’d wasted that joint on ole Ed, him bein’ so cooperative and all, but what the heck, tomorrow he could buy some of the really good stuff.

Bubba smoked his last joint while making his way to the other side of town.  He pulled Ed’s old F-150 right up next to the liquor store door.  It had a piece of plywood now instead of glass.  “Serves him right, shootin’ out his own door glass.”

Bubba was pumped up and ready for action.  Didn’t look like there was anybody else in there.  Bubba walked right up to the counter.  Good, that little dried up clerk was there.

Bubba looked that clerk right square in the eye and said, “Ok you little weasel, I’m back and I’m a declarin’ a shovel fight to the end.  I know you got one cause you got mine from last night.  Haul it out here and take what’s comin’ to ya.”

That little dried up varmint grinned and said, “Ok, you got it.”

Bubba thought, “This is gonna be a real pleasure.  First I’m gonna wallop that smirk clean off his face.  Then I’m gonna whack him a few times, then grab all that money in that cash register.  This sure ain’t gonna turn out like last night.”

The little clerk leaned down.  As he came back up Bubba heard CLICK…CLICK.  Now Bubba’s daddy could have told him, “Boy, don’t be a bringin’ no shovel to a gunfight,” but of course Bubba’s daddy was already long gone before Bubba was even born.

Bubba could see that clerk squintin’ up one eye even before his hand cleared the top of the counter with that big ole hogleg of his.  Bubba dropped Ed’s shovel and screamed like a little girl touchin’ her first toad.  As fast as he could move he made for the door.

Bubba saw a big hole appear in the plywood at the same time he heard the explosion of the first shot.  Bubba thought, “Guess I ‘as right.”  The chances looked real good this night wouldn’t turn out at all like last night.

That first shot was the last one he heard.



One year later


A year after Bubba’s second attempt at whackin’ that little liquor store clerk and stealing his money, Bitzy had made a major turnaround in her life.  Her whole life had consisted of a dependency on some one or some thing--until that night.  Now after a year she knew she could stand on her own two feet.

Bitzy was now a regular at the First Baptist Church.  She started going right after that fateful night.  There, her excellent singing voice was noticed and she was asked to sing in the choir.  In the choir she met Stella, who was married to and partners with Howard.  Howard and Stella owned Stella’s Steak and Fish, a fine restaurant known for their excellent food and good prices.

Well, it just so happened that Stella needed a waitress and she knew Bitzy could use a job so she simply asked, “Bitzy, you ever do any waitressin’?”

Bitzy said, “No.”

Stella asked, “Would you like to try?”

Bitzy said, “I sure would.”

And so Bitzy was now a waitress at Stella’s Steak and Fish.  It was as simple as that.

Bitzy was a natural.  She always listened intently to her customers and did all she could to please them.  She seldom got an order wrong and most times was rewarded with a generous tip.  She even received a few pointers from Albert, the morning short order cook.  Even though it was unlikely she was ever going to be a master chef she now had most of the basics down.  And thanks to the money she received she could now afford more than Krispy Krunch and sour milk.

Bitzy was indeed a changed person, a confident person, an independent person who had goals in her life.  She knew she would achieve these goals and it all started with the second shot fired by a clerk in a liquor store.

The shot that never happened.

Bubba made it through the door and to Ed’s truck.  He started it up and never took his foot off the gas until he came to the lake.  There he sat on the hood of the F-150 for maybe an hour, maybe more, just thinking about what a miserable life he had.  He should be dead by now.  For whatever reason on two consecutive nights he had cheated death.  Why?  Why couldn’t he be one of those regular people?  Why did he think it was ok to simply take the things others had earned?  He tried to think of all the bad things in his life.  Of course he had worked as an enforcer for a couple bookies and one or two loan sharks, but even though he talked a big game, Bubba had never done even a little whackin’ on anybody, oh sure he had put a few knots on a bunch of heads, but them’s the ones that wouldn’t pay off on a bet or somethin’ and he had whacked a few windows and did a real number on somebody’s car once. They kinda deserved it.  Bubba knew that from now on he wouldn’t be the one decidin’, or workin’ for the one decidin’ who deserved it or not.  There were plenty of bad things he had done, too many to contemplate.  He thought about the good things in his life.  There was only one he could think of, Bitzy, and he thought about how badly he had treated her.

Back behind the wheel of the F-150 Bubba drove around and around until finally the truck ran out of gas.  It happened, of all places, right in front of the First Baptist Church.  Remembering a line from his favorite old movie, Sergeant York, even though he was totally alone, he said aloud, “The Lord shor do work in mysterious ways.”  At that moment Bubba was finished with drinkin’ and drugs and with whackin’ and wallopin’.  He didn’t see how he could make up for all the bad things he had done, but he was certainly going to try.

I can’t say one way or the other but even if the Lord didn’t have anything to do with it, events bringing a homicidal liquor store clerk and a poorly maintained Smith & Wesson 44 magnum together to turn Bubba’s life around was still downright mysterious.  But if you looked at it another way, they sure were the right tools for the job.

Bubba walked back to the duplex, his and Bitzy’s.  He went to Bitzy, gave her a big hug and said, “Betty Jane.”  He couldn’t ever remember calling her by her right name, he said, “Betty Jane, I been a thinkin’.  You know I think we should maybe go to church this Sunday.”  Then he went into great detail about the events of the last few hours.

Betty Jane said, “You know, I think you might have somethin’ there…Benjamin.”

They went to church on Sunday.  After returning to their duplex both agreed that there would be no more drinking and drugs in their lives.  That from now on they would be responsible members of the community.  A resolution much easier to keep for Bitzy than Bubba since she seldom used either drugs or alcohol and had never walloped anything in her whole life.  This of course meant that they would avoid nearly all of their current so-called friends.

Ben, to his new friends, or Bubba, to those he had known before, found new uses for gardening tools when he landed a job with Herb’s Landscaping and Lawn Care.  He found that he really did enjoy making an honest living and he was very good at the Landscaping and Lawn Care business.  He always did his best and Herb’s business had picked up considerably since Ben had started working for him.

Ben volunteered his time one Saturday every month with the First Baptist Church’s youth group.  He asked Herb if it’d be ok to freelance a little for the church and help those youngsters plant some trees and flowers around town.  Herb said, “Them tight-fisted Baptists ain’t gonna pay nobody to do nothin’ anyway so you might just as well go ahead.”  Herb even gave them a few dozen saplings to help them out.

Betty Jane and Ben no longer needed each other.  Not like before anyway.  Before, they had hung onto each other just so they’d have something in this world to hang on to.  All they knew now was that they were happier together than they would have ever been separate.  I’m not going to say it was love, but you can if you want.

Ben and Betty Jane, or Bubba and Bitzy if you prefer, with their now steady incomes and new outlook on life had started making improvements to their duplex, new kitchen table and chairs and a new couch to begin with.  Actually buying a home of their own was not in their too distant plans.

Ben and Betty Jane were, for the first time in their lives, truly happy.

Not happy was the liquor store clerk.  Every day he thought about missing his big chance.  He could have had his name in the paper, maybe his picture.  “Coulda’ been a big hero.”  He might never get another chance.

He was upset with his first failure, the time he had fired twice at a would-be robber and missed.  Missing the first time was bad enough, but for the second time, several times a day, he thought, “Had that sucker right in my sights, had him dead to rights, then that damned 44 jammed up.  That lousy, no good for nothin’ piece o’…” Let’s just say he used all the proper profanity in exactly the right order.

Even in a story with a happy ending there’s generally someone left unhappy.