A Bad Country Western Song

If only they had taken some time and talked.  They could have been friends or maybe even lovers.  They actually had a lot in common.

He was not a big man.  The fact his father always reminded him of when he addressed him as the "runt" of the litter.  He had three "big" brothers.  They were as mean as they were big, he lived most of his life in fear.  His mother tried to run interference but then she ran off with that low life bartender when he was ten. All hell broke lose.  Life was one big fight for survival.  He still has nightmares, sometimes he wets the bed.  She left him behind!  Every day he wondered how she could do that.  He learned to hate real young.  It was inside like a putrid abscess waiting to burst.  School was not a place of comfort or escape.  It was just another version of the hell he lived at home.  The day he turned seventeen he packed a bag and hit the road. He never looked back.  He hitched his way to Texas.  He worked hard at hard work.  He wanted jobs that tested his strength and made him feel like a man.  He was a quiet man and tried to mind his own business.  He had a few dreams.  Not big ones.  He wanted a truck.  Yep, the typical cowboy, country kind of truck.  The bigger the better.  That was all he cared about.  That was all his broken and bruised heart would allow him to care about.

She was not a small girl.  Her father's greatest sorrow in life was that she was not a son.  He took every opportunity to let her know this fact.  When her mother died she was only six.  She never owned a dress or wore make-up or perfume.  She was too ashamed to tell her father when she started menstruating.  She cropped her hair and lived in levi's and flannel shirts.  She could cuss, spit, and fight as well as any man.  Her old man never noticed how hard she tried to please him.  He lived his life in a drunken stupor missing his wife and missing the fact he had a daughter who was the spitting image of her mother, in spite of all the attempts to be the son she was not.  Her greatest joy was the day she got the job.

This is a man's world.  Women are not welcome.  It does not matter that her old man worked as the foreman for 30 years.  He is gone and this is no place for girls.  They did everything to dissuade her from continuing on this insanity!  They ignored her.  They taunted her.  They sexually harassed her.  They even tried slapping her around.  She ignored them .  She started wearing perfume and a pink hard hat just to taunt them.  She laughed at their sexual advances.  She bloodied a few noses and even kicked the ass of one poor fool.

Yep, you guessed it.  He was again humiliated.  Now he was a target right along with her.  He could have joined sides with her but that putrid abscess was still growing and he hated her with all his heart and soul.   She saw his rage, at first it scared her a little, then she pitied him.  She pondered his plight and  made a bad decision.  She might fit in, become one of the boys, if she joined them in his torture. After all she had just one dream too.  She searched for his weaknesses.

Women have a knack for this.  She found his desire, his one desire.
Even though she tried with all her heart not be be a women, she was, and that was just something she couldn't deny.  Men and women fight in different ways.  Men are physical, they will punch you, then later have a beer with you and all is well.  Women will yell and pout, they will kiss and make up, then go home and plot how to get even and destroy you.

The talk in the small town was about this year's raffle.  Every year the company held a huge raffle, the proceeds to help the families of those killed on the job.  This year was a truck.  A cowboy, country kind of truck.  He already had a plan, he would take all his savings and buy as many tickets as he could.  In this small town his odds looked good.  He thought about that truck.  That was all he thought about.

She knew he was hooked.  She could see him daydreaming about that truck.  She taunted him that she would win it.  She claimed to "know" the man in charge and that he was gonna see that she won it because they were "close".   She told him tales of her nights spent with the person who chose the winner.  She assured him that she had the winning ticket already.

She agitated him. He hated her.  He hated the sound of her voice.  Her laughter about drove him over the edge.  He stopped daydreaming about the truck and now all he could think about was her suffering, her laughter being smothered and gone.  The putrid abscess growing was about to burst.  His hatred was full and had no place to go.

The night was dark, no moon.  The breeze smelled of salt and an impending storm.  He was glad to be alone.  All those numbers and none of them could give him his dream.   He felt dead, just another thing to torture and inflict pain.  The water was inviting.  He wondered what it would feel like to drown.  He knew no one would miss him.  He remembered the winning number and it kept burning through his brain like a hot brand.  He took some relief that no one had stepped up to claim the prize.  He hoped it was a lost ticket or perhaps the person would keep it a secret.  He didn't want to know who had stolen his dream.  He didn't want to hate anyone else.

He didn't hear her step out  of the shadows behind him.  She was in her pink hard hat and flowered shirt.  He smelled her perfume first.  When he turned around he could see she was holding a ticket and very slowly she was reading the numbers...she had the winning ticket.

He doesn't remember exactly what happened he just knew that something inside, something horrible and ugly just burst, and when it did it tore his tortured heart and mind into pieces.  He hit her hard and her pink hat flew across the deck and into the water.  She didn't have time to scream.  She sank so quickly he hardly realized she had been there.  He turned slowly to leave and something caught his attention.  There fluttering in the soft breeze was the winning ticket.  He slowly picked it up and slipped it into his pocket.

He didn't sleep.  He just sat and held that ticket and he wept.  His tears were not for her.  She was gone and he felt no sorrow.  He wept because somehow he knew that when he got into his new truck it would make all that was wrong with him ok.

He got dressed in his best clothes and he slowly ate breakfast.  He hummed a tune as he strolled over to the building to claim his prize.  The sun was warm and bright.  He handed the man in charge his ticket.   The man looked closely at the numbers.  A look of puzzlement crossed the man's face.  A shiny new set of keys were handed to the winner and he was directed to his dream.  It was the prettiest shade of pink you could ever imagine.