Tuesday, December 08, 2015
Gothic
The Brides of Larch
From nowhere, Mr Halls, the motel owner told the crew
to “Beware of the Brides of Larch!”
Clifford informed him that they were just there from Lost Key,
Florida to help get the grid up in the smaller parishes after the
hurricane, only one of which was Larch. Replace pole transformers,
and perhaps trouble-shoot a bit for individual home owners.
Mr Halls went on–-and didn’t he? The brides, of course, were
widows now that they had dispatched their husbands with
whatever evil...!
Doc and Evers just laughed. Confirmed marrieds. If something
came their way as a sex adventure, Clifford was up to handling
it for the trio. But, he’d be exhausted as well by the upcoming day.
Mr Halls explained that the whole thing was a kind of irony.
What with their being widows now as he said, and the phrase
compounded from Shakespeare and Down-Home humor.
Clifford informed him that somebody had to get them up at 5AM.
That’d be the missus. And she was going to prepare much
more than the usual Continental Breakfast for the crew!
He thirsted to thoroughly explain what Swamp Eggs were.
Two days later, when the truck seemed abandoned outside
of Lichty Acres, the Sheriff started asking questions.
The New Orleans TV got their pictures from the Florida power
company, and hinted at “Sex Terrorism.” Riding the Brides of Larch
angle for all it was worth.
Not much. Sheriff checked phone records of the three, but cells
were dead in Larch, since a tower had been blown down.
Mr Halls told him about all the joking. And that Clifford was some
stud! “So...lured in! And then the others looking for him then...?”
Sheriff informed him that when they found the truth, probably
be quite dull. He departed in his wiry way.
But, not a trace.
Company sends Hip Harlow. Out of retirement and into the dusty truck to drive it back.
The toll taker wants a veritable mystery novel to explain all the
grim goings on, but Hip tells him he knows nothing, just a driver.
The papers have obviously picked up on the Sex Terrorism angle, and he resumes parsing red headlines when Hip pulls away.
Hip turns off the radio and enjoys the swamp. “Everything’s TV today,”
mutters he.
Six months later, Sheriff checks opening of the new Super Walmart.
He doesn’t need photos, could easily tell the trio against the usual
stunted varieties hereabouts. The “Brides” there. Beaming.
Labels: hurricane, Ides of March, Julius Caesar, lineman, local legend, murder, natives, omen, Shakespeare, Super Walmart, swamp, wives
