Date: Fri, 5 Aug 2022 21:50:18 +0000 (UTC)
From: "niftystories@yahoo.com" <niftystories@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dump Dude-10

Chapter 10 -- Making Peace, and preparing for War

The cans get it in end!  Please consider supporting Nifty so that we may
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 Sunday we had Mr. and Mrs. Richardson over for dinner. It was August,
the height of monsoon season in southern Arizona, our summer thunderstorm
season. The cloud cover keeps things cooler, and an early afternoon rain
had the temperature pleasantly cool, so we set things up on the wood deck
out back. We sat around the large picnic table talking, as Steve grilled
the ribeyes. I got Fred to talk about his deployments. "Okinawa was
nice, but you had to be on good manners all the time. We kicked their ass
in World War II, but now they're important allies. We're now guests in
their country, and we have to behave like guests. While I was stationed
there some young jackass got drunk in a bar and raped one of their women,
and there was holy hell to pay. A lot of protests, and rightfully so, in
my book. Any son of a bitch that mistreats a woman, let alone rapes one,
needs a damn hard whipping, and thrown in the brig for a very long
time". I nodded. "And what's your least favorite deployment?". Oh,
that would be Guam, that place can be a hellhole. Always very hot, always
very humid, and rarely a breeze. And a strange place. There are nice
tropical forests, and when you go hiking out in them you notice right
away how silent it is. There are almost no birds on the island, and you
notice right away the absence of birds chirping, singing, and flying
around. I read that brown tree snakes got on the island, stowaways on
cargo ships. They feasted on bird eggs in nests, and decimated the native
bird population". I nodded.

"Steaks are almost ready!" Steve called out. "Paul? Can you get the
baked potatoes out of the oven and put them on a platter and bring them
out? And don't forget the butter and sour cream? And Sarah? Can you get
the bowl of salad in the fridge, and bottles of salad dressings?". The
kids scrambled to get things ready. Fred looked at Rick. "Son, I can't
believe how well-mannered your kids have become. The couple times we came
over for dinner at your and Ellen's place they just bickered and argued
with each other". Rick smiled. "Thanks. Now that they're happy is a
big factor. And Dave has been a real positive influence". Fred glanced
at me and nodded approvingly.

We started eating with enthusiasm. "Steve?" Fred began, "this ribeye
is just perfect!". "Thanks". "I hear that you want to be a chef?".
"Yeah, I do, um, well I did. But Dave told me to always aim high, and
shoot for the stars. I've been working over at the Longbranch Cafe. The
owner, Mr. Fleming, is a really nice guy. He's already taught me how to
cook all the dishes on the menu. Now he's teaching me how to do
inventory and order supplies. He told me doing the other employee's
timecards is next. He's in his 60s I guess, and he's dropped a hint a
couple of times that he wants to retire in a year or two. To be honest,
I'd sure like to figure out a way to buy the place from him, and have my
own restaurant". Fred nodded approvingly. "Well, that's certainly very
ambitious of you!" "Thanks. He even mentioned that he could make terms
for me, he doesn't need all the money upfront. He just wants more time
to travel and visit his kids and grandkids". Fred nodded. "Interesting.
Well, your grandmother and I have a few nickels saved up in the bank.
When the time comes, maybe we can help you out with that". "Really?".
Fred nodded. "And Paul thinks he wants to get into computer networking"
I spoke up. "So, we already told him to start finding out which
community colleges in the area have a good program for that. Rick and I
can afford to get him at least a two-year degree, to give him a good
start with a good company". Fred and Hellen nodded approving. "And
Sarah?" Helen spoke up. "I don't want to embarrass you, but you're a
very pretty young lady. In a couple of years, you're going to have a
bunch of young fellas come a-callin'. Your father and Dave are going to
have their hands full making sure their intentions are honorable". "Oh,
grandma!" Sarah sighed embarrassedly. Rick and I looked at Helen and
nodded.

We finished dinner, and the kids began to clear up the dishes. "You
know, Dave" Fred began, "I've been thinking. I'm thinking I that I
could probably get used to having you as my son-in-law". I cocked my eye
at him. "Oh yeah? Well, I'm thinking I could probably get used to
having you as my father-in-law". We smiled at one another. I looked at
Hellen. "Oh, I'm already used to you, Dave" she began. "Anyone who
makes my son so happy, and my grandchildren so happy is someone I'm
proud to call my son-in-law".

Rick and I sat out on the back deck, smoking a bowl, and enjoying the
sunset. The kids were inside watching TV. Rick put his arm around me.
"That's a really nice sunset". "Yeah, it is I agreed. "It's so
great you and my father are getting along". "Well, I've always prided
myself on being able to get along with just about anyone. It's just that
with some folks you have to dig a little bit deeper, find what interests
them, and use that as a common ground to get along with them". Rick
hugged me tighter. "Oh, and by the way, I'm working at the local trash
station this week". "What!". Yeah, the regular guy is taking a week
off, vacation time". "But why the hell do you have to do it?". The
county is really shorthanded in this tight labor market, they have a lot
of positions open. And I don't really mind it, change of scenery,
shorter drive time. And it's really simple, you have a rate sheet and
tell them so much for one bag or can of trash, so much for a carload, and
so much for a pickup load. And with the shorter drive time you get the
week off for the kids. I can drop them off at school, and pick them up
after school". "Fine, I guess".

I opened up right at 8 o'clock. There's always a rush when you open,
folks want to get rid of their trash before going to work or running
other errands before the day got hot. There was a small shed used as an
office, the county called it a fee shed. It had electricity and an AC. I
preferred to have the door propped open, I could better see folks coming
in, and I've never cared for small, enclosed spaces. About mid-morning a
silver Dodge Ram pickup came speeding in and skidded to a stop in front
of the fee shed. Asshole, I thought to myself, must be in a big hurry for
some reason. I nodded to the driver, a big burly looking guy, as I walked
to the pickup bed to see how much trash he had. It was empty, so I walked
to the pickup door. "Um, do you have any trash?". He shook his head.
"No, I use a trash service in town". "Then what can I do for you?".
"You're not the regular guy, are you?" "No, I'm filling in for him
this week, he's taking the week off, vacation time". "You government
workers have things so easy, I'm surprised you don't have a couple of
supervisors out here, watching you work". I sighed in exasperation.
"What's your name?". "Dave". He nodded. "Then you must be the guy
who's shacked up with that fella who loves getting his shit packed".
"Excuse me?" He laughed. "Ellen Richardson's ex-husband. She told me
he shacked up with some guy named Dave, and that he admitted to her that
he loves getting boned".

He spat out on the ground, narrowly missing my foot. "I think that's
about as low as a fella can get, letting another guy bone him in the
ass". I shrugged. "Different strokes for different folks". "Yeah,
right!" he snorted. He cupped his crotch with his right hand. "Bet
you'd love to chow down on my big baby maker". I shook my head. "Um,
no thanks, I'll take a hard pass on that". "Yeah, right! All you
faggots can't get enough dick. You say you don't want it? I don't buy
it, but maybe I'll just make you suck my dick, at a right place, right
time". I glared at him with intense hatred and anger.

"You don't know who I am, do you?". He did look familiar, my mind
raced to try to place where I'd seen him. Ah yes, the hardware store. Oh
shit, Vanderyackt! "Carl Vanderyackt?" I asked. He nodded. "Yep. I had
a pretty good thing goin' with Ellen, once that faggot of a husband left
her. She did have a bad habit of runnin' her mouth off too much. I was
there for an easy piece of ass, not some goddammed lecture. Real shame
what happened to her, she must have run her mouth off once too often.
That bitch sure did have a mouth on her. But you fellas made a big
mistake, pointin' the sheriff's deputies my way, I don't take kindly
to that". "We didn't" I bluffed. "Yeah? If you didn't then who
did?". "You'll have to ask the sheriff's office about that. We told
them we had no idea who might have done it. They suspected Rick at first,
but the kids confirmed he picked them up at 4 o'clock, and we were all
at my place at the time of the murder". "Yeah, well I have an alibi
too. And yes, those poor kids, stuck with two faggots, spoonin' and
likely kissin' in front of them. Glad the state had the good sense to
take them away from you". "Oh, we have our kids back with us". "WHAT?
How the hell did that happen?". I held up my hand for him to see my
wedding ring. "Rick and I are married. As a married couple, and with no
question about the children's safety and welfare, that state had to
return them to us". Vanderyackt spat out again, this time hitting my
boot. "Well if that isn't the most disgusting thing I've ever heard,
two faggots marrying each other". Another car came in and pulled up
behind Vanderyackt. "Well, I have another customer, move along now. Nice
to meet you" I added, with sarcasm. "You won't think so after my
buddies and I get done with you. We're God's Patriots, and we don't
take kindly to librul snowflakes, negroes, Jews living around us. And we
especially don't like any faggots livin' anywhere near us". He shifted
his truck into drive and sped off, tires spinning in the gravel.

I considered my encounter with Vanderyackt. I was more convinced than
ever that he had murdered Ellen, with his comments about her running off
her mouth too much, and him being with her just for a piece of ass, not a
lecture. But I also realized I'd probably made a mistake telling him
Rick and I were married. He was just the type who would go around telling
anyone who will listen those two gay guys were married to each other and
lived in the area. And by late afternoon I got my first customer who had
heard the news. "Um, two cans of trash? That will be four dollars,
please". He looked at me curiously. "Did I hear right? That you're
married to some other guy?". "Uh, yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. Four
dollars please". "I think that's disgusting". I shrugged my
shoulders. "Well, it's the law. Two men or two women have the same
right to marry one another as do a man and a woman. Four dollars,
please". "The law don't always make something right, just like
murdering babies with that abortion shit". He shoved the money at me and
took off.

I thought long and hard if I should tell Rick about my encounter with
Vanderyackt. As much as I didn't want to tell him because I knew he
would get worried about me, I knew I had to tell him. Because it affected
his safety and our children's safety. It wouldn't be that hard for
someone to search public records and find out where we lived. I waited
until after dinner and we went out to sit on the back porch to tell him
exactly what had transpired with Vanderyackt. Rick didn't say a word. He
got up and went inside, and came back out carrying the holster and 9mm
Glock. "From this moment on you are not leaving this house without this
gun". I immediately began to protest. "Shut up!" he commanded firmly.
"I don't want to hear it. I refuse to lose you, I forbid it! You're my
everything in life, and I am NOT going to allow you to get hurt, or in
any way be in danger. Got it?". I nodded. "Good! End of discussion.
Now, I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself with a gun, and
you're going to learn it. Now, you just fasten the buckle of the holster
onto your belt, like this". Then he started fishing around the trash
barrel. "What are you looking for?". "Some cans, you and I are going
to have some target practice".  We walked out into the backyard. Rick
placed two soup cans on a fence post, and then walked back about 25 feet
and motioned me over. "Ok, now first we're going to practice drawing
your gun. Now, drop your arms down to your side. Yeah, like that. Now,
DRAW!". I looked down to see where the gun was, and awkwardly pulled it
out and pointed it at the cans. "No!" Rick sighed in exasperation. "If
you have to look to see where your gun is, you'll get shot before you
ever find your gun. You have to know exactly where your gun is. Look
straight ahead, off to the horizon. Now, lower your hands to your side,
yeah, like that. Now feel where your gun is. That's it, do you know
exactly where your gun is now?". I nodded. "Ok, now when I say
"Reach' you just reach for your gun, grabbing it by the pistol grip.
Now, drop your hands by your side, and . . .Reach!". I quickly reached
for the gun and grabbed it by the pistol grip. "Very good. Now again,
drop your hands to your side and . . . Reach!". I grabbed the gun in an
instant. "Very good, very good. You're a fast learner. Now we're going
to practice drawing your gun and aiming at your target, the cans. But
don't fire yet, we'll get to that".

"Now, hands to your side, and . . .Draw!". I swiftly drew the gun and
aimed at a can. "Very good. Now put the gun back in the holster, hands
at your side. Yeah, like that, now  . . . Draw!. Excellent! Now, for
firing the gun, you really need to use both hands. That holding a gun
with one hand is just for Western or Action movies. When you fire a
handgun the recoil lifts the end of the barrel up, which can cause you to
miss your target. When you hold a handgun firmly with both hands it
can't do that. So, hold the gun with both hands and aim at a can. Rick
came up behind me and put his arms around me, helping me hold the gun.
Now, you see that notch at the back of the barrel? And that tip at the
end of the barrel? That's how you aim a handgun. You align them so that
the tip on the end of the barrel is aligned perfectly in the notch, just
barely above it. Yes, like that. Now . . . Fire!". I squeezed off a
round and the can jumped off the fence post and fell to the ground with a
clatter. "Excellent! Really good. The only thing is that when you're
firing a gun in self-defense you don't get all the time in the world to
aim, you get a fraction of a second. So, you have to get a sense that the
notch and tip are aligned to where you want the round to go and memorize
what it looks like. So, put the gun back in your holster, and lower both
hands to your side. Yep, just like that. Now when I say Fire you draw
your gun, aim the gun at the other can, hold it with both hands, and
shoot as fast as you can. Ready?. Fire!". Instantly I drew my gun, held
it in both hands, and fired; the can jumped off the fence post. "Damn!
You're good!". Rick walked over and picked up both cans and put them
back on the fence post. "Hey! What's all the shooting about?" Paul
yelled from the back porch. "Dave and I are just having a little target
practice" Rick yelled back. "Nothing to worry about. "Now, put the gun
back in the holster, and hands at your side. Now, when I say Fire, draw
your gun and shoot both cans. Ok . . . Fire!". I drew the gun, holding
it firmly with both hands,  and shot the first can, sending it flying,
and a fraction of a second later did the same to the other can. "Damn!"
Rick said admiringly. "They could have used your help at the OK
Corral!". "Very funny".  "Oh, nothing is funny about this at all. But
now I feel confident you can defend yourself, and that makes me feel much
better". "What are you going to do for a handgun?". "Oh, I'm going
to buy another one tomorrow, and always have it with me".