The Front Porch Prophet

“Don’t,” Wormy said. “I finish what I start. It’s kind of like flying the helicopter out of the road after the crazy guy shot me down. Anyway, Eugene is my friend just like he’s yours.”

“Okay, then,” A.J. said. “I won’t mention it again.”

“Anyway, I’ve got no place else to be and nothing else to do,” Wormy said. “After he goes, I’ll be moving on. I don’t know what I’ll be doing, but it won’t be flying.”

A.J. thought about this for a moment. An obvious solution occurred to him.

“Don’t tell Eugene I told you,” he said, “but he’s leaving the beer joint to me when he dies.” Wormy nodded, as if to say it made good sense to him. “I don’t want it,” A.J. continued, “so I’m going to give it to you. You seem to have a knack for the work.” Wormy held up his hands, warding off the compliment and the largesse. Both were much too grand in his scheme of things.

“I’d just screw it up,” he objected. “And what about Bird Egg?”

“You have to keep an eye on Bird Egg until he goes to the big card game in the sky,” A.J. said, resolving another problem. He was on a roll. “After that, it’s all yours. How can you screw it up? You buy alcohol, sell it for more than you bought it for, pay off Red Arnold every now and then, and play poker the rest of the time. It’s not brain surgery.” Wormy looked doubtful. He seemed resistant to making the executive move. Then his eyes lit up.

“We can be partners,” he proposed. “You be the boss, and I’ll run the business. We can split the money.” This wasn’t quite what A.J. had in mind, but it looked like it was the best he was going to be able to manage. He supposed he could reserve his half for charitable works, like sending the children to college. One thing was for certain; he would have to present to Maggie her new status as the bootlegger’s wife in the best possible light.

“Okay,” he said to Wormy as he held out his hand. Giving him half a beer joint was better than giving him no beer joint at all, at least for the time being. They shook. “We’ll try it for a while. Once you get your confidence up, you can buy me out.” Wormy nodded.

A.J. felt a little better. In one fell swoop, he had dispensed with the problems of what to do with Wormy, Bird Egg, and the beer joint. He looked at his watch. The day was long into afternoon, and he needed to be going. He stood and clapped Wormy on the shoulder. They walked out to the bonfire. Eugene stirred, and it seemed he might awaken. Then he settled into a deeper doze.

“I think he’s out for a while,” Wormy said.

“If he’s still asleep Thursday, he’ll be easy to load,” A.J. observed. Wormy nodded. Apparently he hadn’t thought of it. A.J. exited the clearing. He could see Wormy standing by the bonfire looking to be deep in thought, perhaps on the subject of the load out if Eugene did not awaken. A.J. knew he would ponder the problem until he had worried a solution.

That night, he sat with Maggie at the kitchen table and talked about the Finn Hall. The house was filled with the aromas of holiday baking, and the three pies currently in the oven-one pumpkin and two cherry-were adding to the already mouthwatering composite of smells. Maggie and Eudora had baked themselves haggard, and their offerings were stacked casually throughout the kitchen. Eudora’s new husband, Carlisle, had not contributed to the ovenfest. But he had grown weary, nonetheless, while reclining on the sofa watching bad movies and eating cheese puffs. So he and Eudora had retired early, ostensibly to sleep.

“Sleeping, my foot,” said A.J., as they heard a crash from upstairs. John Robert and the children were gone to the drive-in, so unless there was a large badger wandering the second floor, he knew what was up.

“Hush,” Maggie said. “They’re newlyweds.” They heard a yell.

“Damn,” A.J. said.

“Don’t talk about it. That’s my sister up there.” They heard one more yell, a loud one, and then it grew quiet.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a cigarette,” A.J. said.

“Quit it,” she said.

“I’m going to have to get with Carlisle tomorrow and get a few pointers,” he continued.

“I hate to break it to you,” Maggie said, “but Carlisle was the one making all the noise.”

“All right,” A.J. said. “You go, Eudora.” This was getting better all the time.

“But feel free to get with Carlisle on those pointers,” Maggie added. She got up and removed the pumpkin pie from the oven. The scent of nutmeg wafted across the room. “A few more minutes on the cherry pies and we’ll be done,” she said as she regained her seat. A.J. started back in on the subject of the Finn Hall.

“I just don’t know about Truth,” he said. “She seems human now, but what if she reverts?”

“Then you quit,” Maggie replied. She looked at him and continued. “But I have to tell you that no one besides you seems to have much of a problem with her.”

“So you’re saying it’s me?” he asked incredulously.

“Some of it is you,” she confirmed. “If you keep your ego reeled in, you two can get along. I think you really want the job.”

“I do,” he said.