Murder Near Orange Cat Philip J. Sembert II
“So, tell us what you did that day,” he said while puffing his cigarette with plumes of white smoke curling under the light. The neighbors were all talking outside. Jim is the only fellow on our street who receives the daily paper. You see, it’s hard times for certain folks nowadays, not everyone can afford the paper which makes Jim the most popular man when big news comes about. He just stands there like a bull and reads off all the headlines with a strong voice that carries like select few. But, until yesterday, it has been two months since any major news has happened. I honestly think that Jim missed his reading, and all the eyes that lay upon him as he reads. Honestly . . . he seemed to revel in yesterday’s headline sir. “I want to know more about that night, never mind yesterday.” He stared at me inquisitively, the smoke swirling and twirling about freely. Now I don’t know why Jeb and I decided last night that we would do our shenanigans, but regardless we did and neither of us slept much. Old Man Jenkins is damn near blind, I think he lost his right mind long ago. We were about to tie a rock to some fishing line to loop it around his front door, it’s good fun to pull the line and make the rock knock the door. It scares the jeepers out of him. But, that night we spared him from our debauchery. We felt bad for the Old Man because he done fell down and bloodied his nose the last time we wronged him. So we left to leave him be. “Why did you happen to be in the village square?” You see – we were walking through the village on the ridge, and Jeb decided that we should go down Center St to see what fun we could get ourselves into. The saloon was a good spot to catch a fight spurred about by irrational and false masculinity – Papa always said masculinity has nothing to do with being a man, but the drunken men with hopeless futures always found a major life victory in a meaningless fist to fist battle. 1
