Rant: The Oral History of Buster Casey

And his dad says, "Same as I knowed an old man pulled up and talked to you before you come running about your Granny Esther." Chester says, "Old man in a Chrysler, told you that he was your for-real pa."

Spitting black, a sideways stream into the gravel, Rant says, "What model of Chrysler?"

And Chester Casey says, "Same as I knowed your Granny Esther screamed at the sight of him, called him the Devil, and telled you to run."

East of the bus-stop sign, the real stars come on. Straight overhead, more stars blink on. Flicker, and stay bright.

Scratching at bug bites, rubbing away goosebumps, Rant says, "Supposing that's the truth," he says, "what else did that old man tell me?"

Cammy Elliot (Childhood Friend): At the Casey house, if you used their peanut butter, Mrs. Casey wanted for you to smoothe what was left in the jar. So it always looked fresh store-bought.

Echo Lawrence: Chester Casey tells his son, "That old man telled you he was your real pa, he telled you to come find him in the city, soon as you was able." Chester's cowboy boot, the pointed toe taps the cardboard suitcase, and he says, "And that old man telled you where to find all this cash money."

And Rant spits black tar, close enough to splash the side of the suitcase. Rabies-infected saliva. Black spattered on the brand-new of the cardboard. Rant just sits there, shaking his head no.

Chester Casey says, "That old man, he telled the truth about being your for-real pa."

Sheriff Bacon Carlyle (Childhood Enemy): Don't ask for my feeling sorry. Your average city's nothing except different levels of pervert. Rant only told that story to fit in. Him and Mr. Casey, they just took their pissing matches a little more far than your average father and son.

Echo Lawrence: At the edge of the world, another star pops up.

Rant says, "You're only lying so I won't get homesick…" He shifts his ass on the top of that cardboard suitcase full of gold.

In the city, Chester tells him, Rant will find his real father, and his grandfather. Rant will discover his true nature. "First thing," Chet says, "soon as you meet Echo Lawrence for the first time, you give her a big kiss for me." He says, "Let her know, does her cholesterol taste too high."

Brenda Jordan (Childhood Friend): Don't say I told, but Rant showed me a gold twenty-dollar coin his mama gived him for his going away. Dated 1884. Mrs. Casey told how Chet Casey weren't Rant's real daddy, but she'd never tell how come she had that coin she gived him for good luck.

Echo Lawrence: And his dad, whether it's good night or goodbye, Chet Casey leans over the top of Rant's hair. His face bent over the skin of Rant's forehead, where the wind combs the bangs back, that bare spot, his dad bumps. His lips press and bounce off.

Chester says, "Tell Shot Dunyun not to let his little-bitty pug dog, Sandy, drink out of the toilet."

Another impossible piece of advice. Shot had never met Chet Casey. Even I didn't know the name of Shot's little dog.

The next new star gets big. The headlights of the bus, one bright spot breaking into two separate stars. As those lights come closer to Rant and his dad, the headlights spread farther and farther apart.

"Soon as you discover your true nature," Chester tells his son, "you hightail it back to Middleton."

Irene Casey (Rant's Mother): Anytime anybody in Middleton opens their mouth, you need to ask: "Why are you telling me this?"

Shot Dunyun (Party Crasher): How weird is this? But the last words Rant's old man says to him, while Rant's waving from the window of the bus, is Chet Casey yells, "Find the truth and hurry back, and maybe you can save your ma from getting attacked by that crazy-insane lunatic…"

Echo Lawrence: Chester Casey, both his thumbs hooked in the front belt loops of his blue jeans, he says, "Don't think on this any too hard. None of this is gonna make sense until it's close to, just about, almost too late."

Rant's father shouts, "It pains me, I'll never put eyes on you again."

15–Boosted Peaks

Shot Dunyun (Party Crasher): How's this for bullshit? At this shop, for our top all-time rental, you're talking about Little Becky's Walk on a Warm Spring Day. Shit like that, comfort shit, dumb shits come in here, ask to rent it all day long. The reason I got into this business is I love transcripts, ever since I was little, but this is killing me. It's beyond bullshit.

Eight hours every day, renting out copies of Little Becky's Seaside Hunt for Shells. Everybody wanting the same mass-marketed crap. Saying it's for their kid, but really it's not. All these fat, middle-aged dumbshits just want something to kill time. Nothing dark and edgy or challenging. Nothing artsy.