Part 3:  Tattoos on this Town

Newly unemployed Connie had given me the address to Mr. Sunbeam’s house with instructions to “beat that little shit when you see him.”  He lived under the water tower, or at least in its shadow. More than once the town has painted the famed tower with the Jumbo Peanut, however Timmy <3 Connie remains faded but plastered underneath for all to see. On the other side, Timmy has the herp has much fresher paint. And like the herp, it doesn’t appear to be going anywhere anytime soon.

Upon arrival, the 2007 Newsoms Peanut Queen opened the door with a baby on her hip with a genial, “Whachu’ want?” I informed her I was there to see Mr. Sunbeam about his time on the town council, to which she replied, “Good, his lazy good for nuthin’ ass needs to do sumthin’. Timmay, get your ass down here, this boy wanna see you!”

After begrudgingly coming to the door, Timmy perked up when I told him why I was there. “Connie still askin’ ‘bout me? I knew it! C’mon lets go cut a loop, I got nuthin’ but time.”

We cruised around town for a good five minutes, with Timmy showing me the same ole shit Ol’ Stumpy showed me.

“Hang a left here, then take a quick right.” We arrived at the town dump. “Lord, look at these treasures here, somebody done thrown out a perfectly good recliner. It’s got a few marks and stains on it, but nothin’ a little Febreeze can’t knock out. Open your trunk, we takin’ this home.”

As I still hadn’t gleaned any info from him, I relented, and popped the trunk on the Fiesta. After cramming it best we could and leaving the trunk open, we were able to salvage Timmy’s love stained recliner. “Bet you ain’t heard of this, walk ‘round the back of the dump I got somethin’ to show you.”

We walked around and saw a 1997 Ford Ranger with the windows down and an unidentifiable song playing as I don’t listen to shit music. The shocks were clearly shot as it was bouncing to and fro. I looked in Timmy’s direction with a clear look of “the hell?”

“Welcome to Landfill Lagoon! This is the spot to take your honey when your living situation ain’t exactly ‘safe.’ It’s  mostly teenagers, but occasionally you’ll find Ms. Fancy back here with a client. Romantic ain’t it?”

As I stood there dumbfounded, mostly with the music selection, wondering how Conway Twitty never came those speakers to sanctify things, Timmy spelled it out for me.

“So you know about Bojangles chicken, that’s it,” he said, “Well word comin’ down the railroad line is the Mayor is fittin’ to bring his own Bojangles to Newsoms. Been going on for months. They say he’s been having secret meetings over there at the Franklin one in the late evenings. You should see what he’s up to, and get the two piece, or the Cajun sandwich, you know what, you can’t go wrong, it’s all good. Damnit, it can’t be stopped. Do me a favor, would ya? Drop me over there at that new restaurant across from Drake’s, think it’s time to pay ole Ms. Connie a visit!”

 Your entire family tree exists because of this man.