Thursday, May 04, 2017

The Rookie (Part 4)

A snarl of leather clad bikers burst out of a worn out ranch home, beers in hand, pissed, surveying the scene. They spotted Vance's truck and realized he was the source of the untimely blackout. But as they started towards the truck, Mullet man called out to them.  Vance watched as Mullet went over to the bikers, arms raised at his side, and said, "Boys! Boys! It's not like he did it on purpose."

And they stayed there, circled in their front yard around Mullet, drinking their beers instead of throwing them at Vance's truck. Mullet pointed to his garage, to the roof, to the satellite dish. Then he reached in his pocket, pulled out a garage door opener, and hit the button. The door rose slowly, giving away its secret early as the big screen reflected off the waxed concrete floor. The men crossed the street with Mullet. But they were not a mob. It was almost halftime and the Vikings just punted.

More neighbors came over, slugging 30-packs of Old Style, another with buns and brats, a bag of chips, everyone paying a food admission of sorts as the bikers helped Mullet set up more chairs and tables. Up and down the block neighbors got wind of the party and, as if adhering to a sacred protocol, each one brought something to share. And soon the card tables set up behind the couches and even onto the nearby bar table were full of chips, crock pots with pulled pork simmering, three varieties of guacamole, beans and dip, chocolate cake and brownies. The grill fired up and the smell of cooking meat filled the air. Vance, sitting in his truck waiting for the police, heard yells and gasps in intermittent bursts as the action of the game dictated.

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