Chapter 4. The Rest of the Plan (part 2)
I went to Petco this aftenoon to pick up some KMR (kitten milk replacement) formula for the kittens. Based on the price there appears to be a gold mine in milking cats. Obviously there would be an intitial cost of a shark proof suit, but judging from the prices, $8.00 for 8 fluid ounces, you could recover that fairly quickly. The powder is $24.00 for 14 ounces. Anyway, I can't figure out why folks take their dogs into Petco. Are they going to let them pick out something? You never see anyone bringing their fish with them, though. Walking down the aisle holding a fruit jar full of neon tetras, letting them decide on which food to buy...getting a new little pirate's treasure chest. Anyway, I bought the KMR, got some kitty roast beef (the vet fussed when she found out we had fed them real roast beaf) and a cat napper for the window. We had one before, but they aren't designed for four or five twenty pound cats to get in it at once and they broke it.
Oh well...I thought I would post some more of Chapter 4 in the off chance somebody actually enjoyed reading it. You can start at the last installment, Chapter 4. The Rest of the Plan, or the beginning Chapter 1. How Things Came to Be
The next morning I went over to Woody’s to see if he heard anything. What I was really interested in finding out was whether or not he had told anybody about our incident with Hannon. When I knocked on the door, I could hear him coming from the back of the house.
“Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow,” apparently in pain with each step. He opened the door and kind of squinted in the bright sunlight. He was bare footed, had on a pair of cut off jeans and a snap-up cowboy shirt with the front wide open and the sleeves rolled up.
“Hey man, what’s wrong with you? I could hear you moaning all the way from out here.”
“I’m stove up”, Woody turned and walked away from the open door. I followed him in and closed the door behind me.
“What’s the matter? How come you’re stove up?”
“I jumped of that dad blame bridge! Oh, that’s right little man, you wasn’t there, was you?”
“Hey, you volunteered! It was your idea to wreck the car, not mine.”
“Yeah, like you would have done it. Anyway, what you want?”
“I just came over to see if you had remembered anything else about the guys that picked up Hannon.”
“Naw. I heard Mama on the phone talkin’ to somebody and they said his car was stole by a midget.”
“You’re kiddin’! That was my idea. I started that rumor.”
“Musta’ been your Mama she was talkin’ to, then.”
“I sure hope Hannon doesn’t remember anything. If he does, then that means he’ll be out to get us ‘cause we know he’s into moonshinin’.”
“Not only us, but Mama Pope, too,” Woody was right. This whole thing was getting way too big for a couple of redneck teenagers to handle.
“You ain’t been on the phone tellin’ folks about yesterday, have you?”
“Of course not! Do you think I’m stupid or something?”
“I just want to make sure you haven’t been talking to anybody!”
“No! I ain’t! Besides, I’m so sore I don’t think I could dial the phone if I wanted to.”
“Woody, I think we still ought to lay low and ride it out. I can’t see us gaining anything by stirring the pot more than we already have.”
“What pot you talkin’ about?"
“It’s a saying! Geez, it means we don’t need to be doing anything that’ll get things stirred up.”
“That’s fine by me. I’m too stove up to be stirrin’.”
“We’re gonna have to go on like it didn’t happen. And do our dead level best not to let on that we know anything.”
“That ought to be fairly easy for us…nobody ever accused us of knowin’ very much in the first place!” Woody chuckled as he slowly propped his feet up on the coffee table.
“Oh, guess what? I might have a job.” I told Woody.
“Doin’ what?”
“Working for Johnny Cooper painting the gin.”
“Well I’ll be dogged. Your Mama gonna let you work with that drunk?”
“I guess so. Daddy said he’d ask him today and see if I could start tomorrow.”
“If he’s got some more openings let me know. I’m a little on the broke side myself.”
“Alright. I’ll ask.”
“How much he gonna pay you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“You mean you’re gonna take a job and not know how much you get paid?”
“Woody, I’m not making one thin dime right now, am I? The way I see it, anything is better than nothing!”
“I don’t know about that. My time’s worth something even if I’m just settin’ around.”
“Whatever. Where’s your Mama?”
“She’s at work down at the ice plant. They puttin’ in a new baggin’ machine and she’s answering the phone while Daddy helps the guy put it in.”
“I didn’t even know there was a phone down there. Who calls the ice plant?”
“Well I reckon anybody what wants ice!” Woody seemed insulted that I would ask such a question.
“Okay. Okay. I believe I’m going back over to the house. If anything comes up about...you know, the incident, give me a call.” I got up and headed to the door.
“Will do. I’m gonna lay right here on this couch and try to get this soreness out of my legs.”
I let myself out and headed home. It was probably already near 90 degrees so I was pretty sure I’d spend most of my day trying to stay cool. As soon as I got to the house, I went in and made some red Kool-Aid and got out a big glass. I looked in the freezer and the ice trays were sitting there empty. I thought about calling the ice plant since now I knew they had a phone, but I figured Aunt Ida would just call Mama and tell her and I’d get in trouble. So I filled up the ice trays, poured a glass of hot Kool-Aid and put the pitcher in the refrigerator. I went outside and sat down on a bucket in the carport. The past few days had been too eventful for my taste. So I figured I’d just sit there a while, sip on my Kool-Aid and try to come up with a way to straighten out all this Hannon mess we had gotten into. It was gonna take a powerful lot of thinking to get out of this one.
The next morning at 6:45 I found myself standing at the end of the driveway waiting for Johnny Cooper to come by and pick me up. By some hook or crook way, Daddy had convinced Mama to let me work for Johnny. Actually it was a pretty tough night last night and me and Daddy may be eating sandwiches every meal for the rest of our lives, but by dang I had a job. I was kinda proud of my Daddy for putting his foot down and telling Mama how it was going to be. Of course we’ll have to do something special for Mama real soon, but I think it was worth the trouble. My only hope is that Daddy will be willing to stand his ground from now on. But I’m smart enough to know that’ll never happen.
Johnny showed up at about 7:15 and he had another fellow with him that I had never seen. I climbed up into the cab of the truck and had to slam the door a couple of times but it wouldn’t stay shut so I just held it closed. A dark skinned guy that looked like a Mexican or a Dago or something was sitting between me and Johnny. I’m not sure what a Dago is, but I know they are darker than me and talk funny. He was wearing paint spattered white britches and an old white T-shirt that was also splotched with the apparent paint colors of the last few jobs he had done. The inside of the truck smelled like a conglomeration of cigarettes, paint, and whiskey and body odor.
“Mornin’ Coy, Jr. Welcome to the Cooper Paint and Roofing Company,” Johnny had a cigarette hanging from his lip and was all smiles. As he reached out his hand across the guy sitting in the middle, the truck’s tires drifted off the edge of the road for a few dozen yards. I shook his hand, thanked him for hiring me and did my best to keep the door closed and stay on the truck seat.
“Whoop-whoop, get back up on the pavement...this here is Barton,” Johnny kinda nodded his head toward the other fellow as he wrestled the truck back onto the road.
“How you doing?” I tried to smile and make eye contact. Mama always said it was important to make eye contact when you first meet somebody. That way they’ll know you’re not scared of them.
“How you?” He never even looked at me. He just stared at the road and his fat jowls kinda bounced as we rode along.
“So. We gonna be paintin’ at the gin, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s a big job for ten folks.”
“Wow, you got ten folks working for you?” I was amazed that Johnny could ever have a crew that size.
“Nope. It’s just me, Barton and now you. It’s a HUGE job for three folks.” Johnny laughed out loud as he flicked a cigarette butt out the window. Barton never changed expressions.
“My cousin Woody might be interested in a job if you need more help,” I asked even though I didn’t have any idea how much I was getting paid yet.
“That Lonnie’s boy?”
“Yeah. His real name’s Durwood.”
“Oh, yeah. Durwood. I remember him. He was a booger when he was a young’un.”
“He ain’t changed too much since he got older.”
“That’s right. You boys stole that truck and got shot by ol’ Hannon or something didn’t you?” Barton glanced towards me for a second.
“Something like that. I can’t talk about it though.”
“Can’t talk about it? How come”
“Lawyer said not to. Said we might cause a mistrial or something.”
“What, you suing the police?”
“Not really suing them, but trying to make things right, you know, justice and all.”
“Man you guys are pretty brave, going after the law like that. But I can’t really blame you. If that bastard had shot at me, he’d better damn well kill me because I’d be going after him from that second on. Wouldn’t stop till one of us was dead. I guarantee. Say I guarantee, Barton.”
“I ga-rwan-tee.” Barton never looked away from the road. From the intensity of his stare, you’d think he was driving. I kinda wished he was because Johnny was laughing so hard he started having a coughing fit and was running off the road again.
We finally made it to the gin and unloaded the ladders and paint buckets from the truck. Johnny gave me a few instructions and started me up on the roof rolling on silver paint. It was pretty tough to stay up there after a while. Not only was it fairly steep, it was hot as blue blazes. Sweat was running down into my eyes and dripping off my nose. I could feel the blistered skin on my back start to burning again just like it did last weekend. Man I was going to be in some kinda pain tonight. I painted a whole five gallon bucket of silver paint and went down to take a break. I found a shady spot and sat down on the empty paint bucket. As I sat there, a truck pulled up behind where Johnny had parked and Barton walked over and spoke to the driver. Barton reached over into the back of the truck and got a couple of milk jugs out and headed over to Johnny’s truck. He opened the toolbox, moved some stuff around and put the jugs in it. About that time, Johnny came walking around the corner of the gin, zipping up his pants.
“Whew! That feels better....had to shake the dew off my lily. Heat getting’ to you? Take a breather. I don’t want you croakin’ on me. Cigarette?”
“Uh, no thanks...I don’t smoke.”
“I ought to quit, but then I’d have to quit drinking too and I like it too much.”
About that time Barton walked by and gave Johnny the thumbs up signal. “We gonna knock off about two this afternoon, that alright with you?” Johnny asked me.
“Sure. Kinda hot up on that roof, by two I ought to be well done.” I got up and went over to the truck to get another bucket of paint. The whole time I was pretty sure Barton was watching me. That guy is one weird dude. I took the bucket and went back up on the roof to paint some more. As I slopped the silver paint on the rusty tin roof, I watched Johnny and Barton go over and take a look at what Barton had put in the truck bed. They talked for a minute or two then went back to painting where they had left off.
By two o’clock I had finished up the five gallon bucket of paint I brought up. I kicked the empty bucket off the roof and chunked down my paint roller. I had just about as much silver paint on my shoes and britches as was on the roof. I figured it was a good thing going home early because I
could hide my clothes from Mama before she got home from work. I’d just wear them again tomorrow and figure out how to clean them later. We gathered up all the empty paint buckets and sorted equipment and put it in the truck. I saw the two jugs that Barton had got from that fellow and figured it was probably kerosene or something.
“Johnny? What’s in those jugs, paint thinner?”, I asked thinking I might use it to clean some of the paint off my shoes.
“Naw, man that’s uh....white gas. Barton uses it for his cook stove.”
“Why’d that guy bring it out here? I didn’t know that anybody would deliver white gas.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. That fellow got a good deal on it and gave Barton some cause he knew he used it.”
“Huh, who’d have thought.” I learn something new everyday. The ice plant has a phone and you can get white gas delivered.
“Barton, can I use a dab of it to clean some of the paint off my shoes?”
“No.” Barton looked at me like I was crazy or something.
“Oh, okay. I just asked. No problem.”
We started to pile up into the cab of the truck and Johnny said I would probably cool off quicker if I rode in the back. The way Barton looked at me I figured that I had offended him when I asked to use his gas to clean my shoes. It might be a sin or something to use cooking fuel for paint thinner wherever he came from so I just kept my mouth shut and climbed into the back of the truck. Barton got back out of the cab, grabbed the two jugs and put them in the front with him and Johnny. This guy was weird even for a Dago or whatever he was.
I sat down on the spare tire that was in the truck bed and held on tight for the ride home. As the wind was blowing my hair all over the place and my shirt was flapping in the breeze, I got to thinking about those two jugs of white gas. Something was telling me they more than likely had white “lightnin’” in them instead of white gas. I bet ol’ Barton is a drunk like Johnny and we were going home early so they could get lit. When he dropped me off at the house, I asked Johnny if he was picking me up at 7:00 again tomorrow.
“Yeah. 7:30 or 8:00.”
“We working Saturday, too?” I asked hoping that he’d say no, but knowing I needed the money.
“We’ll have to wait and see how far we get tomorrow and Friday.” With that he slapped the truck in gear and squawked the tires when he leapt back up on the pavement. A cloud of blue smoke billowed out of the tail pipe and the old paint-splotched truck took off like Morty’s goose.
Oh well...I thought I would post some more of Chapter 4 in the off chance somebody actually enjoyed reading it. You can start at the last installment, Chapter 4. The Rest of the Plan, or the beginning Chapter 1. How Things Came to Be
The next morning I went over to Woody’s to see if he heard anything. What I was really interested in finding out was whether or not he had told anybody about our incident with Hannon. When I knocked on the door, I could hear him coming from the back of the house.
“Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow,” apparently in pain with each step. He opened the door and kind of squinted in the bright sunlight. He was bare footed, had on a pair of cut off jeans and a snap-up cowboy shirt with the front wide open and the sleeves rolled up.
“Hey man, what’s wrong with you? I could hear you moaning all the way from out here.”
“I’m stove up”, Woody turned and walked away from the open door. I followed him in and closed the door behind me.
“What’s the matter? How come you’re stove up?”
“I jumped of that dad blame bridge! Oh, that’s right little man, you wasn’t there, was you?”
“Hey, you volunteered! It was your idea to wreck the car, not mine.”
“Yeah, like you would have done it. Anyway, what you want?”
“I just came over to see if you had remembered anything else about the guys that picked up Hannon.”
“Naw. I heard Mama on the phone talkin’ to somebody and they said his car was stole by a midget.”
“You’re kiddin’! That was my idea. I started that rumor.”
“Musta’ been your Mama she was talkin’ to, then.”
“I sure hope Hannon doesn’t remember anything. If he does, then that means he’ll be out to get us ‘cause we know he’s into moonshinin’.”
“Not only us, but Mama Pope, too,” Woody was right. This whole thing was getting way too big for a couple of redneck teenagers to handle.
“You ain’t been on the phone tellin’ folks about yesterday, have you?”
“Of course not! Do you think I’m stupid or something?”
“I just want to make sure you haven’t been talking to anybody!”
“No! I ain’t! Besides, I’m so sore I don’t think I could dial the phone if I wanted to.”
“Woody, I think we still ought to lay low and ride it out. I can’t see us gaining anything by stirring the pot more than we already have.”
“What pot you talkin’ about?"
“It’s a saying! Geez, it means we don’t need to be doing anything that’ll get things stirred up.”
“That’s fine by me. I’m too stove up to be stirrin’.”
“We’re gonna have to go on like it didn’t happen. And do our dead level best not to let on that we know anything.”
“That ought to be fairly easy for us…nobody ever accused us of knowin’ very much in the first place!” Woody chuckled as he slowly propped his feet up on the coffee table.
“Oh, guess what? I might have a job.” I told Woody.
“Doin’ what?”
“Working for Johnny Cooper painting the gin.”
“Well I’ll be dogged. Your Mama gonna let you work with that drunk?”
“I guess so. Daddy said he’d ask him today and see if I could start tomorrow.”
“If he’s got some more openings let me know. I’m a little on the broke side myself.”
“Alright. I’ll ask.”
“How much he gonna pay you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“You mean you’re gonna take a job and not know how much you get paid?”
“Woody, I’m not making one thin dime right now, am I? The way I see it, anything is better than nothing!”
“I don’t know about that. My time’s worth something even if I’m just settin’ around.”
“Whatever. Where’s your Mama?”
“She’s at work down at the ice plant. They puttin’ in a new baggin’ machine and she’s answering the phone while Daddy helps the guy put it in.”
“I didn’t even know there was a phone down there. Who calls the ice plant?”
“Well I reckon anybody what wants ice!” Woody seemed insulted that I would ask such a question.
“Okay. Okay. I believe I’m going back over to the house. If anything comes up about...you know, the incident, give me a call.” I got up and headed to the door.
“Will do. I’m gonna lay right here on this couch and try to get this soreness out of my legs.”
I let myself out and headed home. It was probably already near 90 degrees so I was pretty sure I’d spend most of my day trying to stay cool. As soon as I got to the house, I went in and made some red Kool-Aid and got out a big glass. I looked in the freezer and the ice trays were sitting there empty. I thought about calling the ice plant since now I knew they had a phone, but I figured Aunt Ida would just call Mama and tell her and I’d get in trouble. So I filled up the ice trays, poured a glass of hot Kool-Aid and put the pitcher in the refrigerator. I went outside and sat down on a bucket in the carport. The past few days had been too eventful for my taste. So I figured I’d just sit there a while, sip on my Kool-Aid and try to come up with a way to straighten out all this Hannon mess we had gotten into. It was gonna take a powerful lot of thinking to get out of this one.
The next morning at 6:45 I found myself standing at the end of the driveway waiting for Johnny Cooper to come by and pick me up. By some hook or crook way, Daddy had convinced Mama to let me work for Johnny. Actually it was a pretty tough night last night and me and Daddy may be eating sandwiches every meal for the rest of our lives, but by dang I had a job. I was kinda proud of my Daddy for putting his foot down and telling Mama how it was going to be. Of course we’ll have to do something special for Mama real soon, but I think it was worth the trouble. My only hope is that Daddy will be willing to stand his ground from now on. But I’m smart enough to know that’ll never happen.
Johnny showed up at about 7:15 and he had another fellow with him that I had never seen. I climbed up into the cab of the truck and had to slam the door a couple of times but it wouldn’t stay shut so I just held it closed. A dark skinned guy that looked like a Mexican or a Dago or something was sitting between me and Johnny. I’m not sure what a Dago is, but I know they are darker than me and talk funny. He was wearing paint spattered white britches and an old white T-shirt that was also splotched with the apparent paint colors of the last few jobs he had done. The inside of the truck smelled like a conglomeration of cigarettes, paint, and whiskey and body odor.
“Mornin’ Coy, Jr. Welcome to the Cooper Paint and Roofing Company,” Johnny had a cigarette hanging from his lip and was all smiles. As he reached out his hand across the guy sitting in the middle, the truck’s tires drifted off the edge of the road for a few dozen yards. I shook his hand, thanked him for hiring me and did my best to keep the door closed and stay on the truck seat.
“Whoop-whoop, get back up on the pavement...this here is Barton,” Johnny kinda nodded his head toward the other fellow as he wrestled the truck back onto the road.
“How you doing?” I tried to smile and make eye contact. Mama always said it was important to make eye contact when you first meet somebody. That way they’ll know you’re not scared of them.
“How you?” He never even looked at me. He just stared at the road and his fat jowls kinda bounced as we rode along.
“So. We gonna be paintin’ at the gin, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s a big job for ten folks.”
“Wow, you got ten folks working for you?” I was amazed that Johnny could ever have a crew that size.
“Nope. It’s just me, Barton and now you. It’s a HUGE job for three folks.” Johnny laughed out loud as he flicked a cigarette butt out the window. Barton never changed expressions.
“My cousin Woody might be interested in a job if you need more help,” I asked even though I didn’t have any idea how much I was getting paid yet.
“That Lonnie’s boy?”
“Yeah. His real name’s Durwood.”
“Oh, yeah. Durwood. I remember him. He was a booger when he was a young’un.”
“He ain’t changed too much since he got older.”
“That’s right. You boys stole that truck and got shot by ol’ Hannon or something didn’t you?” Barton glanced towards me for a second.
“Something like that. I can’t talk about it though.”
“Can’t talk about it? How come”
“Lawyer said not to. Said we might cause a mistrial or something.”
“What, you suing the police?”
“Not really suing them, but trying to make things right, you know, justice and all.”
“Man you guys are pretty brave, going after the law like that. But I can’t really blame you. If that bastard had shot at me, he’d better damn well kill me because I’d be going after him from that second on. Wouldn’t stop till one of us was dead. I guarantee. Say I guarantee, Barton.”
“I ga-rwan-tee.” Barton never looked away from the road. From the intensity of his stare, you’d think he was driving. I kinda wished he was because Johnny was laughing so hard he started having a coughing fit and was running off the road again.
We finally made it to the gin and unloaded the ladders and paint buckets from the truck. Johnny gave me a few instructions and started me up on the roof rolling on silver paint. It was pretty tough to stay up there after a while. Not only was it fairly steep, it was hot as blue blazes. Sweat was running down into my eyes and dripping off my nose. I could feel the blistered skin on my back start to burning again just like it did last weekend. Man I was going to be in some kinda pain tonight. I painted a whole five gallon bucket of silver paint and went down to take a break. I found a shady spot and sat down on the empty paint bucket. As I sat there, a truck pulled up behind where Johnny had parked and Barton walked over and spoke to the driver. Barton reached over into the back of the truck and got a couple of milk jugs out and headed over to Johnny’s truck. He opened the toolbox, moved some stuff around and put the jugs in it. About that time, Johnny came walking around the corner of the gin, zipping up his pants.
“Whew! That feels better....had to shake the dew off my lily. Heat getting’ to you? Take a breather. I don’t want you croakin’ on me. Cigarette?”
“Uh, no thanks...I don’t smoke.”
“I ought to quit, but then I’d have to quit drinking too and I like it too much.”
About that time Barton walked by and gave Johnny the thumbs up signal. “We gonna knock off about two this afternoon, that alright with you?” Johnny asked me.
“Sure. Kinda hot up on that roof, by two I ought to be well done.” I got up and went over to the truck to get another bucket of paint. The whole time I was pretty sure Barton was watching me. That guy is one weird dude. I took the bucket and went back up on the roof to paint some more. As I slopped the silver paint on the rusty tin roof, I watched Johnny and Barton go over and take a look at what Barton had put in the truck bed. They talked for a minute or two then went back to painting where they had left off.
By two o’clock I had finished up the five gallon bucket of paint I brought up. I kicked the empty bucket off the roof and chunked down my paint roller. I had just about as much silver paint on my shoes and britches as was on the roof. I figured it was a good thing going home early because I
could hide my clothes from Mama before she got home from work. I’d just wear them again tomorrow and figure out how to clean them later. We gathered up all the empty paint buckets and sorted equipment and put it in the truck. I saw the two jugs that Barton had got from that fellow and figured it was probably kerosene or something.
“Johnny? What’s in those jugs, paint thinner?”, I asked thinking I might use it to clean some of the paint off my shoes.
“Naw, man that’s uh....white gas. Barton uses it for his cook stove.”
“Why’d that guy bring it out here? I didn’t know that anybody would deliver white gas.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. That fellow got a good deal on it and gave Barton some cause he knew he used it.”
“Huh, who’d have thought.” I learn something new everyday. The ice plant has a phone and you can get white gas delivered.
“Barton, can I use a dab of it to clean some of the paint off my shoes?”
“No.” Barton looked at me like I was crazy or something.
“Oh, okay. I just asked. No problem.”
We started to pile up into the cab of the truck and Johnny said I would probably cool off quicker if I rode in the back. The way Barton looked at me I figured that I had offended him when I asked to use his gas to clean my shoes. It might be a sin or something to use cooking fuel for paint thinner wherever he came from so I just kept my mouth shut and climbed into the back of the truck. Barton got back out of the cab, grabbed the two jugs and put them in the front with him and Johnny. This guy was weird even for a Dago or whatever he was.
I sat down on the spare tire that was in the truck bed and held on tight for the ride home. As the wind was blowing my hair all over the place and my shirt was flapping in the breeze, I got to thinking about those two jugs of white gas. Something was telling me they more than likely had white “lightnin’” in them instead of white gas. I bet ol’ Barton is a drunk like Johnny and we were going home early so they could get lit. When he dropped me off at the house, I asked Johnny if he was picking me up at 7:00 again tomorrow.
“Yeah. 7:30 or 8:00.”
“We working Saturday, too?” I asked hoping that he’d say no, but knowing I needed the money.
“We’ll have to wait and see how far we get tomorrow and Friday.” With that he slapped the truck in gear and squawked the tires when he leapt back up on the pavement. A cloud of blue smoke billowed out of the tail pipe and the old paint-splotched truck took off like Morty’s goose.
Posted by TBF at 8/10/2009 9:54 PM 
Categories: uncategorized
Tags: twenty pound cat ice plant Petco Kitten Barton roast beef Coy Jr. pets cat napper KMR painting Woody Dago Johnny Cooper Chapter 4
Categories: uncategorized
Tags: twenty pound cat ice plant Petco Kitten Barton roast beef Coy Jr. pets cat napper KMR painting Woody Dago Johnny Cooper Chapter 4
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8/13/2009 7:21 PM
The Biting Fly wrote:
Here is the final part of Chapter 4. Hopefully you've found this interesting enough to continue reading.
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