Date: Sat, 16 Feb 2013 20:43:06 -0800 (PST) From: R Ranger Subject: Midwestern Tale, Chapter 9 (Revised) Warning! The following story is a pure work of erotic fiction. All names, dates and places depicted herein are fictional. The story contains some chapters with descriptive scenes of sexual encounters between consenting individuals. If you are not of legal age to read stories of this nature or you are offended by the subject matter contained herein do not read any further. Midwestern Tale By The Rump Ranger Revised Chapter 9: Death in the Family After Danny and I finished eating two big bowls of beans and ham along with cornbread and buttermilk we headed back to the cabin to check on my cousin. Bruce had decided to forgo dinner because he wasn't felling well. When we arrived Danny asked, "Hey lover boy you feelin better? You wanna to go to the movie in town with us?" "Nah, you two go ahead. I got the fuckin headache from hell and still feelin kind of poorly," Bruce replied. "Maybe it was the heat today. It was damn hot out there this afternoon," I said. "Can I get you an aspirin or some water?" "Nah. I think you maybe right. I'm just need to lay here in the dark and sleep it off." "Should we sleep in the house tonight so as not to bother you?" Danny asked. "When you all get back from the movie check in to see how I feel," Bruce said. "I'm sure I'll be okay in a couple hours." "Okay." Danny walked over and bent down kissing Bruce gently on the forehead, remarking, "You do feel a tad warm baby. We'll leave you alone. See you when we get back." I switched off the light as we exited the cabin and then walked towards the house. Danny asked Aunt Flo and Uncle James to look in on Bruce later as he was not feeling well. After the brief conversation with my aunt and uncle, Uncle James said, "You boys don't stay out late there's heap a work to get done around here tomorrow – got the big fish fry on Saturday evening." We walked towards Danny's car. Inside the car we put the top down and were off to town. The drive-in theater was the place to go to socialize in the area. We could watch the flick and have some privacy to talk. That night we didn't talk about anything real deep; however, we farted a lot and laughed at our farts. Belching and farting for boys back in the day was a game to see who could out do the others. Apparently, Aunt Flo hadn't soaked the beans long enough to get the farts out of the beans, so we had a sufficient amount of gas in our system. While we watched the movie we'd devoured a container of popcorn and a soda apiece before the siren at the fire department went off. The fire department as in many Midwestern towns was composed of volunteers. The siren was a call to let them know to assemble at the fire house, call in or turn on their radios for further instructions. About thirty seconds after the siren went off a couple of vehicles started up, put the speakers back on the posts, driving out with their lights turned off. Immediately after that the ambulance that was sitting next to the concession stand drove away. Once the ambulance cleared the gate on went the lights and siren. The emergency vehicle turned onto the highway heading towards the farm. Our conversation concluded that there must have been an auto accident on the highway. A couple minutes later more emergency vehicles began going down the highway towards the farm. Danny and I looked at each other with questioning looks. Without a word Danny started the car. He'd decided to leave and head home before the movie ended, but I think we were both curious about what had happened and where. For some reason we had queasy feelings about what we would find. As we approached the farm we could see the top of the fire truck with lights going down in the draw where the cabin was located. Numerous civilian vehicles with emergency lights operating lined the side of the highway and driveway. An ambulance pulled out of the driveway at a high rate of speed passing us with lights and siren going full tilt. We pulled over to the side of the road allowing it passed and then pulled into the driveway driving up to the house. The volunteers were all returning to their vehicles shaking their heads while the fire truck remained. We were wondering if there had been a fire or what had happened. Then we saw the two firemen and Uncle James standing in front of the cabin. The door was open. We both exited the car and began running towards the little cottage. Once we reached the area where the men were standing we both shouted in unison, "What's going on?" Uncle James and the Fire Chief grabbed us with that look of disbelief. Uncle James said, "It's Bruce. Boys, we think he might have suffered a stroke." "A stroke! What the Hell! Strokes are for old people," Danny screamed. "Is he okay?" Danny was asking questions and making statements in rapid fire succession before he burst into tears. Uncle James pulled him close and hugged him. That was the first time I'd seen my uncle show any emotions towards Danny or anyone for that matter. Uncle James was not a demonstrative person nor were most of the men in the family. Back in the day sensitivity and touchy feely was not common among men. I walked over and put my arms around Danny too. The fire Chief said that it was time for him to go getting the fire truck back to the barn. He and the driver climbed into the truck, made a big U turn and headed back up the driveway towards town. Apparently, sometime between the first bowel of beans and cornbread and when Danny and I departed to go see movie in town Bruce blew a blood vessel in his head. We'd been told he was alive when he left the farm in the ambulance. We both wanted to go to the hospital immediately; however, Uncle James said, "Your aunt is with him. We have to wait to see what hospital they're taking him to." We all went inside where we began consuming coffee while waiting. Uncle James called the local operator and told her he would be on the phone notifying family and for her to break in anytime a call came in from the hospital. Uncle James began calling relatives and the pastor explaining what had happened and Bruce's condition. Finally, the awaited call came. After Uncle James hung up he was ashen-faced. Stoically, he took the car keys off the hook in the kitchen and then asked Danny and me to get the big car out of the garage. The car was the Sunday go to meeting car: a Lincoln Continental. The black behemoth beast with suicide doors was not driven by anyone except for Uncle James or Aunt Flo's driver. Danny opened the door to the garage and I flipped on the light switch. The large garage instantly illuminated showing off the beautiful black beast sitting there in hibernation awaiting its beckon call to duty. Danny slid behind the wheel of the mammoth machine and brought it to life. After letting it warm up Danny pulled the car outside while I turned off the lights in the garage and closed the big sliding door. A much detached Uncle James stepped out onto the porch and began walking towards us. Danny opened the driver door preparing to exit the vehicle. "You drive Danny, if you don't mind," Uncle James said. I opened the driver side rear door for my uncle to slide in. Once inside I closed the door and walked around to the passenger side where I took my seat next to Danny. After Uncle James explained where the hospital was located. The drive to the hospital miles away in another town was a somber one. Once we arrived at the ER entrance Uncle James told me to park the big car while he and Danny went inside. After parking the beast in a far area where it wouldn't get a scratch on it I then made my way inside the community hospital's ER waiting room. My uncle was holding a crying Aunt Flo. Danny just sat there in a state of total disbelief. I didn't know what to do or who to console first. As I began walking towards my aunt and uncle and when I got to them I asked, "How's Bruce?" "They're still working on him," Aunt Flo said between crying gasps. Suddenly, a stony face doctor emerged from behind the swinging doors, calling the two adults in for a consult. After a few minutes I heard my aunt let out a painful wail. Danny and I looked at each knowing what the cry of anguish meant. We held each other crying. After that family members began trickling into the hospital we had to separate, wiping the tears away to maintain a strong front. After a while my mom and dad arrived. Of course they tried to shield me from the truth; however, I told them that I was a big boy. I knew my cousin was dead and I could handle it. Deep down inside I questioned whether I was going to be able to handle things. I introduced Danny to my family and other family members who didn't know him, explaining that he was Bruce's roommate at college. After many minutes of family members consoling each other I could see the sun cresting. A new day would begin for the first time in our family's life without my cousin Bruce. Slowly, one by one family members began to empty out of the small waiting room at the little hospital. They gathered in groups outside planning out how they all would pitch in helping my aunt and uncle cope with the death of their youngest son: the heir apparent. I didn't know what to do, so I began walking to the spot where I parked the car. After looking it over for scratches I brought it back to the entrance of the hospital about the time Uncle James and Aunt Flo were emerging. I parked the car, got out and opened both back doors. Danny got behind the wheel while I helped my aunt into the backseat. I closed the door and then stepped forward taking my place on the front passenger side of the Lincoln, instead of riding with my mom and dad. Danny drove back to the farm at a steady pace. We all rode in total silence. Once at the house Uncle James asked that Danny and I park the car in the garage and then return to the house. When we got back to the house family members had collected and more kept arriving along with the pastor and people from the church. Family would assume many of the duties relieving my aunt and uncle while they made funeral plans. That's the way things were handled back in the day. Some of the women began preparing breakfast for family and friends. Some had brought dishes of food with them while a couple had stopped at bakeries for pastry. I just stood there in a state of shock. My dad walked up to Danny and I asking me, "When did you learn to drive son?" I paused looking at him before I said, "I'm not a kid any longer dad. I've grown into a man these past few days." Dad looked at me and said, "Yes you have, yes you have son." The men began gathering in a group on the big wrap around porch for what I suppose was some sort of strategic planning session. The pastor was meeting with Aunt Flo and other women. Danny and I just hung out with the men folk who were smoking cigars and pipes as they sipped their coffee and talked. Danny and I didn't know what to do or what to say. We wanted to cry and hold each other, but that was out of the question. Finally, after what seemed like hours my mom approached us asking, "Do you boys want something to eat?" "Not really, but some coffee would be great," I replied. "Same here," Danny said. "Come on in and get some coffee, also there are doughnuts and pastries to go with the coffee," My mom said. "You boys need some nutrition." We got up following mom inside. She poured us a couple cups of coffee and pushed the plate heaped with fresh pastry towards us. We drew up chairs. The pastry had a sour taste that morning. The coffee was bland, not hot, just warm. All I wanted to do was go someplace and cry, but I knew I had to be a man – a strong young man. So strange, we were talking to Bruce a few hours before and now he was dead. Life is like that no one knows for sure what the next minute brings. I overheard my dad and Uncle James talking about me. Dad wanted to take me home while Uncle James insisted that I stay until my school started after Labor Day so as to help him finish off some chores. Dad agreed. The big church fish fry would still be held as planned: in celebration of Bruce's life. [I hope my readers all had a blessed Christmas and New Years. Address all correspondences to Randall at: bn2rumpranger "at" yahoo "dot" com Subject line: Midwestern Tale. This is a revised chapter nine. I have been busy, but hopefully I'll have time to write more chapters. Do not send any e-mail with attachments to my e-mail address as they are automatically deleted using special anti Spam software. All rights reserved. This story is protected under copyright and may not be distributed on any other website or publications without the express written permission of the author.]