The Minotauress

Balls' eyes were glittering he was so torqued up. "No, man, 'cos, see, the guy won't be home, and he's got no wife or kids or anyone else in the house. Beginnin' of every September, he goes out'a town fer a coupla weeks—Spain, he goes to, wherever that is. So's the house is empty. All we gots to do is knock the place over'n fence the haul ‘fore he can git back ta report it missin'."

Dicky gave a strained expression. "I don't know, Balls. Ya could still git caught a mite easy. If this guy Crafter tolt ya he goes out'a town ever September, then he'll know it's you who done the job."

Balls was nearly giddy in excitation. "That's the best part, Dicky. I don't know the guy from Adam. Never met him, never talked to him."

"Then how you know so much 'bout him?"

"This guy tolt me, see?"

"This guy?"

Balls nodded. "'Bout a year ago this newbie con named Bud Tooler got dropped on our cellblock. Biggest, dumbest cracker you ever saw, and the poor rube got sent up twennie-five years on a rapo. Raped some gal in the back of a Good Humor truck, he did, after knockin' her out'n takin' the cash box, and the big cracker wouldn't'a even got caught ‘cept you know what he did? He went back to the truck a few minutes later and stole a box'a Tastee Pops."

"Shee-it!"

"The splittail were still unconscious but someone seed him takin' the fuckin' ice cream!"

"Fuckin'-A, man! That's dumber'n dogshit!"

"Yeah, man, fuckin' Bud Tooler, biggest dumbest rube you could ever meet'n yer life. Fucker's got dick fer brains."

Dicky joined Balls in some laughter, but then calmed down and squinted at a thought. "Hey, Balls? What's this rube Bud Tooler got to do with this old Crafter guy?"

"I'se tellin' ya, Dicky. See, Tooler had a job fer years, cuttin' this guy Crafter's lawn'n doin' his hedges'n shit, so's that's how he knowed that the guy goes away first week'a every September. And one time Crafter's sink got stopped up so's he let Tooler into the house ta fix it. Only time in all them years Tooler ever got asked in the house were that one time, but one were enough. He got a gander at all kinds'a ‘spensive shit in there. So's after that Tooler got ta thinkin' he'd knock the place over himself when Crafter went on his next trip but then he got busted on that Good Humor rapo last week'a July," and, of course, Balls pronounced July as "Joo-lie."

"Hmm," Dicky murmured.

"Yeah. Hmm, brother."

"Crafter, you say his name is?"

"Yeah, man. Crafter. Ephriam Crafter and he's got a million bucks'a shit in his house just waitin' ta be cleaned out. If'n we don't pull this job, we'd be dumber than Tooler fer goin' back fer that box'a Tastee-Pops, am I right?"

Dicky's mental gears spun as best they could. "Ya know, Balls? Just you might be right 'bout that."

"So's it's settled, partner. Tomorrow you git'cher new trannie. Then till the first week'a September we'se rake in some cash runnin' shine. And after that—" Balls raised his beer mug again—"we' git pig-shit rich when we knock over Ephriam Crafter's house on Governor's Bridge Road."

"I'se'll drink ta that!" Dicky celebrated and clinked mugs.

They split another pitcher as the tavern's din rose. All the pool tables were full, and there wasn't an empty seat in the house. Doreen was seen slipping out of the men's room—deftly replacing her dentures and wiping her mouth—and then a second later a man came out as well. Meanwhile, Cora Neller had seen fit to get up on a table and dance, but when she pulled up her top—showing death-camp breasts—she got booed down.

Balls remained excited about his new business propositions, especially Crafter's house, which he knew in his heart was a done deal. But something else, on the periphery of his psyche, was bothering him.

"Hey, Dicky. ‘Member when we was kids'n every so often we'd go over ta Mrs. Houser's house'n look in her winder'n watch her brush her hair nekit?"

"Aw, yeah!" Dicky recalled, a bit tipsy now. "And then she'd do jumpin' jacks and bendin'-over exercises whiles we was watchin'!"

"Yeah, and ‘member how we'se always had the idea she knew we was watchin' but she never did nothin'."

"Yer right, yer right! And then we'd beat off whiles we was watchin'!"

Balls nodded. "Yeah, yeah, and we'se were all pissed off 'cos we was too young ta squirt."

"Aw, yeah, man, we couldn't wait fer our peters ta start kickin' out juice like the older boys—"

"And like in them old porno mags we found in that ravine behind the old Dart Drug." Balls peered intently at Dicky. "We knew that jism came out'a peckers when we saw that. ‘Member?"

Dicky searched his not-very-elaborate memory. "Yeah! They was in a old suitcase! So's we'se crawled down that ravine thinkin' it was full'a money from a bank robbery or somethin' and thens we busted it open'n it was stuffed with old porno, and each page had some fella squirtin' a big ole load in some skanky chick's face or tits."