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Dogs were frisky as evening temperatures dropped lower and lower. Children rode bicycles in the last of the sun. Their clear voices and silly merriments echoed off pines and lingered on cold winds. A dreary looking old man hobbled by with his coat wrapped tightly around him, muttering loud obscenities. The street was never quiet. Evers sat on his front steps smoking a cigarette. A lone chicken strutted by, clucking to herself. Evers watched with interest, wondering why this bird was unconcerned with the dogs that roamed freely. As it went on down the road, he noticed the dogs merely sniffed the air, then laid back down. Sometimes things just got used to each other, he thought with a soft smile. That was until Emma Jean showed up. “Somebody siphoned all the gas out my truck.
Then they slung the hose up in my rose bushes. You got any idea who done it?” she asked suspiciously.
Evers lit another cigarette and appeared to think for a minute. “Nope,” he answered shortly.
“You the only one around here that’s got nothing to do but set out on the steps and watch who comes and goes. Well, I got something for that gas thief. My nephew is on his way over here and spoiling for a fight!” she snarled. With that, she stomped off, leaving only the scent of cheap hairspray. Evers shook his head.
Just then, he noticed the black lab from down the street, proudly carrying a chewed up oyster boot. Right behind him was Jimbo, his owner. The lab was too fast for Jimbo, who ended up taking a seat next to Evers, and trying to catch his breath. “Dern dog ain’t never growed out of the chewing stage. Guess I’ll have to throw my boots on top of the porch to keep him from getting them,” he fussed.
“Emma Jean says somebody stole her gas out the truck. You seen anything?” inquired Evers.
“Nope,” Jimbo said.
Evers offered him a cigarette. After a while, a red Honda drove by, beer bottles flying out of the windows. One of them hit the house and bounced off Jimbo’s back. Jimbo jumped up and shook his stick after them. “I don’t think they noticed you.” Evers put in.
“They’ll be coming back by in a minute. They just gone to the end of the street to borrow some fishing poles again,” Jimbo said.
Evers nodded knowingly.
Sure enough, in a little while, the red Honda sped back by, fishing poles, sticking out the rear windows. This time, Jimbo threw his stick at them. The Honda stopped. A massive woman got out, fire in her eyes. “That stick come clear through the window and hit me upside the head,” she fumed.
“And your beer bottle like to took my breath when it hit me,” Jimbo replied angrily.
The woman got back in her car, swearing to come back with her husband and brother to settle the score.
“She’s married to a seven foot shrimper. What we gone do?” asked Jimbo.
“I’ll think of something,” Evers replied.
Meanwhile, Emma Jean showed back up, this time with her hulking young nephew, still looking for the culprit that stole her gas. “I seen a red Honda over in your yard while you was gone over to your sister’s place yesterday. I just remembered,” lied Evers.
“Like that one?” she asked as the red Honda came around the corner.
“That’s the one!” Evers continued.
“Bout time for us to get in the house!” Jimbo warned.
“Yep!” replied Evers, who was already running for the door.
