Got Shot? Why I'm Not Surprized

There used to be a huge beautiful old pine tree that held the slope of the hill below my house and spread majestically over my back deck. It wonderfully framed one side of my view of Freers Gerry Lake and Sugarbread Mountain. I loved the view and I loved the tree.

So, naturally, pine beetles got to it. Killed it and its dead branches held threatenly over my back deck and home. It had to go.

Enter into the story old Mr. Johnson. He was 85 years old if a day. A veteran of World War II, he was a wirey, proud, worn but still a useful spring of a man. An early riser and hard working man, he cut trees in FHH for a living.

I was leary of hiring him for this job because of his age. But, I enjoyed talking to him (for two hours the first time I met him) about his service and his life's experiences, which were many and actually very interesting.

My sister, Beth, who works at the FHH Utilities District, recommended him. Mr. Johnson assured me he left all the tree climbing and muscle work to a young man who worked for him. We agreed on $300 to take down the dead pine and culling out some saplings and a few smaller trees. They'd be there at 7:00 the next morning. I guessed I could get up that early on a vacation day. Oh well, I wanted to see this happen.

They got there at 6:00 am. Mr. Johnson was on my back deck admiring the locomotive bell I have mounted back there. Two young men noisily unloaded chainsaws, climbing gear and equipment out of the back of a beat-up old Ford pickup. It was difficult to tell what color the truck was. This was in driveway right outside my bedroom window.

I guess there had been no real need in having set the alarm clock. Since I'm at my home in FHH only on vacations I'd never actually used the alarm part of the clock before. It was an old used GE that I'd bought at the Share and Wear second-hand store. I didn't have the instructions. Most of the printed labels for knobs and switches were faded or worn off. I'd spend way too much time the night before figuring out how to set it. Even then, I wasn't sure it was going to go off the next morning. Is this what retirement is going to be like?

I dragged myself outside with a glass of OJ ,(breakfast) bedhead, unshaven and cloudy-eyed. Chain saws were being started up, ropes throw around and branches being man-handled. "Where'd you get that train bell?" said Mr. Johnson still studying it pretty closely. This was way too much activity that early in the morning.

"Ahh, I... One of my guys recovered it with some other stolen property. It wasn't ours and no other railroad claimed it. I cleaned it up to put on my pontoon boat."

"Could you might part with it?"

"I really hadn't thought about it. Maybe. What do you have in mind?"

"I'll give ya' fifty bucks or maybe trade a little work."

"I'll have to think about it. I really want to mount it on my boat."

We leaned over railing watching the two boys tackle some of the smaller trees. "Get the hell out of there! You don't know what the hell you're doing! You gonna get yauself hurt damnit!" Mr. Johnson was getting animated.

"Let me get down there. That boy don't work for me. He just wanted to watch. That other boy, Zipper, there with the saw, is supposed to be doing the work"

Jake "Zipper" Hammonds is a strapping young redneck punk. About 22 or 23 years old. He was very polite in a overt Eddie Haskell kind of way that makes you mistrust him and have a kid brother kind of affection for him at the same time. You know everything he says is a lie. His smile is fake but practiced. You should never turn you back on him but, you like him anyway. He is who he is. I never did find why everyone calls him Zipper.

They worked their butts off, including the old man. The other kid tried but, he kept getting in the way and yelled at by Mr, Johnson. They had that big ol'pine down, hauled off the hill and all the smaller trees cut up by 9:30.

I'd felt complelled to really get myself up for the day, with all the activity. I washed up, did a few choirs and brought some ice water down for the guys doing the real work.

Mr. Johnson, sweating and panting, was looking at the big tree stump. "I'm going to have to go get my big saw to get that stump cut down to the ground. I'll come back later."

We agreed he'd come back at 3:00 that after noon, finish off the stump and I'd have his cash ready for him.

Here's were it gets interesting (finally, huh?). I was wearing my vacation hat and not my cop hat. It's generally not healthy to be in suspicion mode all the time. Freers Gerry Lake is were I try to turn that off, for family unity and my own mental stability.

Zipper and Steve-oh (I assume his given name was Steve but, who knows) showed up again at the house at noon with the Big Saw. It took both of them to start it up. Zipper tackled the stump and Steve-oh had a stick poking at the stump, dangerously close to that whirling chain. I'm sure Mr. Johnson, were he there, would have been yelling."Get the hell out of there you idiot. You're going to get yourself killed." Mercifully it was over quickly and no one got hurt. OSHA was no where to be seen.

While they were gone I saw a few more things I wanted cut. Zipper took care of that in quick fashion. They packed up and met me on the deck.

"Where's Mr. Johnson?" I asked.

"He got hot and went home. You know how old fellows get. We told him we'd finish up here, pick up the money and go work on some other jobs.'

"Well, here's $300 for your boss. Ya'll figure out with him your pay but, here's an extra $20 for you. I appreciate that extra work you did."

Zipper genuinely thanked me, gave me his cellphone number in case I needed any yard work or trimming done, then left. I felt this twinge behind my left ear. I still had my vacation hat on which makes those twinges less noticable. However, it didn't surprize me that Zipper was trying to cut his boss out of future jobs.

I stood there and admired the changes to my backyard for a while but, still morned the loss of my familiar pine. It being the heat of the day, I went inside, fixed me a sandwich and flipped on the TV to watch Shadow of the Thin Man. I love Willian Powell and Myrna Loy movies.

At 3:00 pm sharp I saw Mr, Johnson walking around my back deck. My first thought was that he was still eyeing my bell. Sure enough, the first thing he said was, "You made up yourn mind if ya gonna sell me that bell yet?"

"I think I'm going to keep it, Mr. Johnson"

"I don't know what happened to that Zipper-boy. He was supposed to meet me here at 3:00 with the Big Saw. I saw him and that idiot that was with him a few minutes ago, up at the front entrance like they was leaving town. They hadda seen me."

"They were here at noon and cut out the stump. See," I pointed down to where the pine once stood. "They said you were hot and went home."

"I was Gaul-durn hot alright! That ungrateful snot-nose wanted me to pay him $200 and that other idiot expected me to pay him too! You didn't give him the money did you?" I should have been wearing my cop hat.

Mr. Johnson knew where Zipper lived so we jumped in his truck and drove over there. He lived in the low-rent section of FHH. Not the trailer park but, almost. Zipper was living off his girlfriend, Janette Bumpers. Her dad was a retired cop who now lived in FHH. He bought her a little house nearby and then the stomach-turning boyfriend moved in with his two pit bulls. Nice.

I saw Zipper's pickup parked out behind his back fence in the woods. It was hiden, I guess. We banged on the door and yelled out his name. All the blinds and curtains in the house were closed tight. The windows on the doors were covered with aluminum foil from the inside. I circled the house with the dogs going nuts in the backyard the whole time. I was hoping to see a little peek out of the window but, no.

Mr. Johnson was cussing like a Marine as I parked his truck behind some bushes at the end of street where I could see the intersection. "What the hell are you doing?"

"There's no other way out. We know they're in there. They're just waiting for us to leave. We'll catch them as they pull up to the stop sign and block them in."

"Well, I don't want any trouble."

"You want your $300?"

"Yeah, and those two son-sa's in jail too."

As mad as he was, Mr. Johnson wanted no part of this. We went back to the house and called the FHH Police to file a report. Officer Bennie showed up and I explained what happened. Well, wouldn't you know it, this was a major crime in FHH. Bennie had the rest of the department out loooking for Zipper and Steve-oh while I wrote out a statement.

I remembered that I had Zipper's cellphone number and called it. The ringtone on my end was some acid rock -punk-country song about drinking Jack. I left a message and Zipper called me right back. I asked him sweetly,"Did you forget something?"

"Uhh, what?"

"To give Mr. Johnson the $300?"

"That old son-of -a-," he continued on a tirade of foul langage and denunciation for 10 minutes. The gist was that they had not pre-arranged what Zipper's cut was to be. He felt that Mr. Johnson was going to short him despite the fact that they had not actually discussed it.

"Well, I gave that money to you to give to Mr. Johnson. Since you did not give it to him I'm going with Mr. Johnson to swear out an affidavit with the DA in Hilery in the morning."

This prompted another 10 minute explosion of accusatory nonsence from Zipper.

I responded, "Here's the deal. Bring the money back or go to jail. Money. (or) Jail. You decide."

Long story short (yeah, right) Zipper said he'd be right over. He was 5 minutes away. Twenty minutes later I called him, "Did you forget something?"

"What?" I thought I heard a little attitude in his voice.

"Did you forget to drive over here and give Mr. Johnson the money? Money? (or) Jail?"

"I'll be right over."

Zipper and Steve-oh showed up 20 minutes later. Maybe it did take longer than all of us thought.

What happened next was right out of an episode of Jerry Springer. Zipper went after Mr. Johnson, right in the middle of the street. Officer Bennie was trying to control the situation by dangling a pair of handcuffs. John-boy, a tall muscular 300 good-ol-boy and county lineman who works for Mr. Johnson, on the side, doing tree-triming, jumped in verbally to defend him. Beanpole that he was, Zipper threatened to whip his butt but, was held back by some phantom person. My next door neighbor (and FHH darts champion) was ready to jump in and Steve-oh was egging Zipper on, seated safely in the passenger side window of the truck.

Mr. Johnson politely explained that he didn't fight island to island in the Pacific killing Japs to have to put up with this crap. (This is, of course, the censored and condensed version.) Officer Bennie now had his hand on his gun and was looking at me like "What do I do now?"

I pulled Zipper aside,"Here's what Officer Bennie can't tell you, so let me make this easy for you one more time. It's give the money back or go to jail. Why don't you just give the money back to me, instead of Mr. Johnson, and this will all go away."

Zipper's Eddie Haskell impression kicked in, "You've been straight with me all along Mr. Gonzalas. I'll do it because you asked me to but, that's the only reason."

(Whatever)

Zipper handed me the $300. Withtout a break in movement, I handed it directly to Mr. Johnson. Steve-oh yelled something again about his cut and Mr. Johnson refered to him as a useless something or another. The Jerry Springer show had returned from commerical break.

I walked into my house. My job was done and I felt better about not having had my cop hat on earlier in the day. I figured it was time to take it off again. After all, I was on vacation and the lake was calling. Officer Bennie was calling too - for backup.

A couple of months later I was back home in Texas when my sister called. "You'll never guess. Zipper's been shot."

"Why am I not surprized?" I'm sarcastic like that.

"Turns out he had been extorting money from the old man who owns the hardware store over in Laverne for the last six months. Zipper hit him up for money one too many times and the old man shot him point blank with 00 buck. He's in intensive care and apparently paralized from the waist down."

"Oops"

"Oh. it gets better. The reason he he was able to squeeze money out of the old man? He didn't want his wife to find out he and Zipper had been together."

"Together. You mean...."

"Yes." The finality of how she said it told me all I needed to know. (Actually, more than I wanted to know.)

"That's going to be tough. Doing state time in a wheelchair with that rep."

"An opportunity to make new friends!" My sister is so sassy.

"Again, oops," was all I could think to say.

A nice little postscript to this is that Steve-oh was stopped by Arkansas State Troopers after a high-speed chase through Hillery and Cees Branch last week. On top of everything else, Steve-oh had a mini-Meth lab in the back of his truck. Maybe eventually he and Zipper can be cellmates.