Four Trails: A Quartet of Country Tales by Anthony H. Roberts - HTML preview

Honky Tonk Gal

Hank Turner sat in front of the ChatnChew restaurant in his beat-up Ford pickup truck and pondered the potential for the most uncomfortable breakfast of his life. Sweatin' like the proverbial whore in church, he had half-a-mind to throw it into reverse and get the hell out of there. Breakin' bread with Reverend Greyson and the Deacons of the Church of the Living Christ was right up there with having a root canal or being branded with a hot iron. Ever since Hank opened the Lil' Bit of Country Saloon, he and the good Reverend had worked opposite sides of the spiritual fence. Hank being more affiliated with heathens and sinners while Reverend Greyson represented the good and godly folk of Dry Creek, Texas. If not for the pleas of his saintly old mother Hank would never have agreed to meet with these old windbags.

"Hells Bells," muttered Hank, as he left the truck, squared his hat and headed into the lion's den.

The three church-men sat around a large, round table at the back of the ChatnChew; a section commonly reserved for the elders of the community. Old farts who came in at the crack of dawn and drank coffee for hours on end only to leave a quarter tip for the extended service. The three old bastards grinned up at Hank like vultures ready to rip the flesh from his bones.

"Mornin' Reverend," said Hank as the elders rose to a semi-vertical posture to greet his arrival. "Sorry I'm late. I'm not usually up this early. Saloon keepers rarely work banker's hours."

Reverend Greyson extended his hand and said, "No, I imagine they don't. I hope we didn't get you up too early, Brother Henry," then turning to his fellow parishioners he continued the introductions, "You remember Brother Humphries and Brother Rodgers? I believe they were Deacons back when you still attended."

Brother Humphries reached out and gave Hank a surprisingly firm handshake for a man who looked older than electricity.

"We sure do miss you, Brother Henry. Your mother is such a strong sister of the faith. Any chance we'll see you this Sunday?"

Hank shook hands all around and replied as the four of them took their seats, "Not likely, I'm afraid.

My Sundays are spent worshippin' at the altar of the Dallas Cowboys."

This response brought forth a scowl from both Deacons but a slight chuckle from the Reverend .

"As much as we all love the Boys, Henry, they're no substitute for the Lord. But we're not here to lecture you on faith, though I do hope and pray that one day you'll return to the flock. I know it would mean so much to your dear mother."

"Thank you, Reverend, I'll take all the prayers I can get. And speakin' of my mother, she said you boys wanted to talk to me about a business matter. Hold up just a minute there fellers," said Hank as he caught the eye of a bottle-blond waitress shuttling between tables and ordered a large pot of coffee with extra cream and extra sugar.

"Sorry, Rev. I gotta have my Joe first thing in the morning or I get all pissy," said Hank. "So... I'm not sure what business my mother was talkin' about but-"

Reverend Greyson leaned forward and spoke in a tone befitting one use to explaining the dictates of a proper life to the less enlightened, "Henry, you know how the Church feels about the sin of inebriation-

"

Now it was Hank's turn to interrupt, "Yes sir, I do, and you know I have every right to operate a legal tavern in the state of Texas. I'm fully licensed, I pay my taxes and-"

"Henry, we're not here to debate your right to operate a tavern, though we strongly object to your chosen profession, we concede that the laws of man do often conflict with the laws of God. We're here to talk to you about your Tuesday night gatherings."

"Tuesday night... really? You wanna talk about Dyke Night?"

Brother Humphries spat out his words as if to expectorate a great wad of evil from his pursed lips, "Sin and damnation, Henry Turner! The rampant promotion of public acts of lewdness and perversion!"

"Now hold on a minute, Hoss," said Hank.

Brother Rodgers chimed in with equal condescending vigor, "You are condoning the vile act of ho-mosex-a-ality and forcing it down the throats of this God-fearing community. This is not San Francisco, young man! People 'round here still believe in the Good Book and will not tolerate that kind of repulsive and deviant behavior."

"Now wait just a damn minute there, Brothers. I am not forcin' anythin' on anyone, and I'm ain't promotin' shit neither! And there sure as hell ain't no acts of pre-version goin' on in my saloon," said Hank.

"But Henry," said Reverend Grayson trying to broker the escalating mood at the table, "your establishment provides a forum for the homosexual community. A public gathering place where they can flaunt their sinful ways and lead our youth into temptation, perhaps even placing their immortal souls in jeopardy."

Hank rubbed his forehead to ease his growing headache and to give himself a moment to choose the proper words that would keep him on speaking terms with his mother. Telling his Mama's preacher to pound sand was in no one's best interest. This was a time for delicate diplomacy followed by a hasty exit. Forcing a smile on his face, Hank proceeded with genteel caution, "With all due respect, Reverend, I ain't providin' nothin' but good times, country music, and cold beer, and it's all legal. On Tuesday night these ladies come down and fill the joint. They shoot pool, they play pinball, they listen to good ol' country music and they dance. But most of all, they drink beer. And I'm talkin' about a lot of beer, Reverend. I don't rightly care whose diddlin' who. It ain't none of my business. I'm in the beer business and on Tuesday nights, business is boomin'. These are good girls, Rev. They don't cause no trouble for me or nobody else. Hell, I wish every night was Dyke Night."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Henry," said the Reverend shaking his head at the loss of yet another soul fallen away to the devil's temptations, "I'll pray that you see the error of your ways, son, and that you'll turn from this sinful practice."

"Excuse me, Reverend," said Brother Humphries rising to his feet. "Brother Rodgers and I will be leaving now. It's a waste of time to cast words against a stone wall," then turning to Henry, the old man puffed up and wagged his finger in most-pious castigation, "Young man, turn from your wickedness or you shall most certainly face the fires of damnation."

Brother Rodgers leaned forward too and wagged his own sausage-like finger in Hank's face along with a parting admonishment, "And the flames of hell burn hot for all eternity, son. I pray you never find that out!"

"Why thank you, gentlemen, I'll keep those kind words in mind." Hank shouted after them as the anointed elders shuffled away from the table, "And if you two ever want an ice-cold beer, come on down to the Lil' Bit. Gotta new House Speacial! Deacons drink free on Dyke Night!"

Later that evening at the Lil' Bit of Country Saloon, Katrina Johnson leaned against the bar, sipped a Bud Light and waited for her friend, Rosalie Delgado, to arrive from Dallas. Rosa was an old flame who remained a good friend even after their relationship cooled off. They ran into each other at a bar in Dallas a couple weeks before and Katrina had invited Rosie and her girlfriend, Abby, to come out to the country for some real East Texas honky-tonkin'. As Katrina stared into her beer, Hank came out of the back with a case of pork rinds and a big smile of his face.

"Well, there she is, the Big Kat. What's up, cowgirl?" asked Hank as he sat down the box of crispy fried pigskins.

"Sittin', drinkin' and thinkin'," said Kat. "You got enough beer tonight, Hank? Finals on the pool tournament. Girls are gonna be mighty thirsty."

"You don't have to tell me my business, darlin'," said Hank pulling himself a cold one from the tap.

"Tonight you gals are makin' the final payment on my bass boat."

Kat tipped her beer to Hank and said, "I'll sure do my part. Hey, you seen my worthless brother around?"

"Oh, he's here all right. Out back shootin' pool with his runnin' buddies -- that Beau and Tyler. The Unholy Trinity."

"Goddamn, I don't know why he feels compelled to pull this shit," said Kat.

"They're not gonna cause trouble tonight, are they Kat?" asked Hank. "I got no problem with you and the ladies, but your brother can be a handful, to say the least."

"He can be an asshole is what he can be," said Kat. "Don't worry, I'm gonna talk to him right now."

"Thank you, darlin'," said Hank pleased to hear that Kat was gonna ride herd on her pain-in-the-ass little brother. Katrina downed her beer, shoved the bottle at Hank and headed back to the pool room to parlay with the tiny terror of Dry Creek, her little brother, Junior Johnson.

Junior was playing cut-throat with his best friends, Beau Barden and Tyler Dane, when his big sister walked up to the pool table.

"Junior, can I have a word with you?" asked Kat.

Without looking up at her as he sighted his pool cue, Junior said, "I'm shootin' pool right now if you haven't noticed."

"Don't be a prick, Junior. Come on over here for a minute so I can talk to you," said Kat.

Junior handed his cue over to his friend, Beau, with an admonishment about not cheating while he was away then followed his sister over to an empty table out of earshot of his buddies.

Obviously annoyed at being pulled away from his game, Junior cut to the chase, "What do you want, Kat? Ain't I allowed to drink beer and shoot pool with my friends."

"Of course you are, Junior. You can shoot pool and drink all the beer you want, but why do you have to do it tonight?" asked Kat.

"You don't own this place, Tina. It ain't against the law for us to be here," said Junior.

"Don't call me Tina, Junior. You know it pisses me off," said Kat. "Tonight is ladies night -- a lesbian ladies night -- you know this, Junior. Why in the world do you want to hang around with a bunch of dyke cowgirls?"

"I don't! But I do like to drink beer and shoot pool and this is the only decent bar in this shithole of a town, so here we are. You got a problem with that?"

"Yeah, I do. I think you're here to be a pain in my ass," said Kat.

"Hell, it's not all about you, Tina," said Junior.

Kat leaned in close to her brother and spoke softly but with deadly intent, "Junior, if you call me Tina one more goddamn time I'll clean your clock right in front of all your little boyfriends."

"You don't scare me none, Kat," said Junior bracing for a punch, "And they ain't my little boyfriends.

We ain't like that. Not like you and yours."

"Junior, you're my only brother and for some mistaken reason -- I do love you; but I will whup your scrawny ass if you cause any trouble tonight. Nobody cares if you boys drink beer and shoot pool. Just clear the table before the tournament, that's all I'm asking. We got all four tables reserved from 7:00 on.

It's an official tournament. Don't be an asshole about it, all right?"

"I'm just sayin', we got a right to be here too," said Junior.

"And I ain't sayin' you don't, just be cool for once, OK?" She paused for a moment, then asked, "You need any money?"

"If you spot me a twenty, I'll pay ya back on Saturday," said Junior eagerly.

Kat pulled out her wallet and handed her brother a crisp twenty dollar bill, "Tell you what, here's a twenty, free and clear. Just don't embarrass me tonight."

Junior snatched the bill from his sister's hand and immediately turned to rejoin his friends. By the time Kat made it back to the bar, Rosa and Abby had arrived and ordered their first of many beers. Kat scooted up and embraced her big city amiga, "My sweet Rose of Dallas, how the hell are ya girl?"

"Doing good, Kat," said Rosa. "Abby, this is my old friend, Katrina Johnson - just call her Kat. She's the one I took those rodeo pictures of -- those crazy bull riding pictures." Turning to her girlfriend, she added, "Kat, this my lovely lady, Miss Abigail Horowitz, formerly of New York City, now residing in Dallas, Texas."

Abby tended her hand to Kat, "And you can call me Abby. Rosa has told me so much about you. You're a real cowgirl. Wow. I've never met a real cowgirl, I mean someone who actually works on cows, or cattle, I mean, on a ranch - ah, I sound like such an idiot."

"You'll have to excuse her, she's a Yankee and easily impressed by all that cowboy bullshit," said Rosa.

Kat shook hands with Abby and said, "I'm just a country girl, Abby - it's a pleasure to meet you. New York City? That's a far piece from Dry Creek."

"Yes, it sure is but I'm really starting to enjoy Texas. Thanks for inviting us tonight."

"My pleasure," said Kat. "Now Rosa was a little iffy on the phone so I'm tellin' you both flat out, you're stayin' at my place tonight. We're gonna drink way too much for y'all to be drivin' back to Big D. Call whoever needs to be called before you get too hammered 'cause you ain't leavin' this town till the sun comes up and your sober."

"Sounds good to me. I've already taken the day off," said Abby.

"Me too," said Rosa. "I've scheduled tomorrow as an official recovery day."

"All right then, ladies, start your engines! It's gonna be a hell of a ride," said Kat.

"Miss Kat, is there a ladies room around here?" asked Abby.

"Girlfriend has to pee every thirty minutes," quipped Rosa.

"Yes ma'am, at end of the bar, take a left and go all the way back, past the pool tables and you'll see it.

It says Cowgirls on the door," said Kat with a wink.

"Thank you. I'll be right back, ladies," said Abby, and gave Rosa a peck on the cheek before departing for the restroom.

"She's awful cute. Nice girl?" asked Kat.

"She's very nice, and an uptown girl to boot. Fantastic illustrator and set designer, extremely talented,"

said Rosa. "I'm telling you, Kat, she could be the one."

"Really? That's great. Whose parents are gonna be more upset? The Catholics or the Jews?" asked Kat.

"Don't even go there. My parents are just getting used to the whole queer thing. And now I have a nice jewish girlfriend? Madre de Dios, it might kill them," said Rosa.

"I reckon they'll survive it. How's the picture takin' business treatin' ya?" asked Kat.

"It pays the bills and keeps food on the table. Abby's a huge help. We do a lot of shoots together and the work has brought in more jobs. I'm doing so well, in fact, that I can afford a luxurious overnight vacation to fabulous Dry Creek, Texas," laughed Rosa, "What's up with you?"

"Same as ever, ridin' a razor's edge on the ranch to stay afloat. Junior's useless and I spend most of my time tryin' to keep him from killin' himself. Cattle are healthy. We got some good new foals. No use complainin', don't solve nothin'."

"What an enchanted life you lead. How about your love life?" asked Rosa.

"I swore off women after you, Rosa; it wouldn't be fair to 'em," said Kat.

"That's total bullshit," said Rosa. "You had your way with me and dumped me almost immediately, as I recall."

"I most certainly did not dump you. It was long distance thing, which never works out. Besides we're very different people, honey. You're a sophisticated city girl and I'm a shitkickin' hick. We were always meant to be ships passin' in the night."

"Hmm... good save, Kat. You are forgiven. How in the world did we ever hook-up in the first place?

You are so not my type," said Rosa.

"I was much aided by Tequila in my pursuit of you," said Kat.

"Yeees... I dimly remember a photo shoot followed by an abusive night of drinking, and then waking up with a naked Kat in my bed. Good times, chica," said Rosa. "But you've skirted the question, cowgirl

- do you have a girlfriend or not, Miss Katrina Johnson?"

"Yeah, I do, sorta," said Kat.

"Sort of?" asked Rosa.

"Well, I met this girl at a livestock auction a couple months ago in Sulphur Springs," said Kat. "We hit it off from the start and I'm crazy about her -- she's comin' tonight so you'll get a chance to meet her --

but it's a tad complicated."

"Ewww, complicated. I like the sound of that," said Rosa. "Tell me everything."

"Her name is Chrissy Greyson and she's fresh out of veterinarian school. She's a local girl and about five years younger than you and me."

"Speak for yourself."

"And she's not out of the closet yet..."

"And why not?" asked Rosa.

"Because she's a local preacher's daughter," said Kat.

"Ay, chihuahua!" said Rosa.

"I know, Lord help me," grinned Kat. "I sure know how to pick 'em."

Across town Chrissy Greyson sat at her faded yellow vanity dresser. It was one of her favorite pieces of furniture, not in small part because it was handed down to her from her great-grandmother, Elizabeth Greyson. Chrissy looked in the smoky mirror one last time, dabbed at her make-up, then grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

Tonight was a big one. Her first night out in public with her steady girl, her girlfriend. It was such a comfort to say those words -- girl friend. Finally, after all these years of being alone there was someone who loved her for who she was, truly and deeply loved her. God has blessed me in so many ways, thought Chrissy, and the biggest blessing of all is my sweet ol' cowgirl, Katrina.

In high school Chrissy had been so confused and alone. There was no way she could tell her Daddy that she was a lesbian. It would destroy their relationship; he would've sent her off to one of those horrible camps to be deprogrammed, as if such a thing were possible. Being a queer teen under her Daddy's roof was torture; the lies, the shame, the constant condemnation of men and women just like her whose only crime was that they were born of God to love what Daddy said could not be loved. So many times she just wanted to scream at him, "Daddy, can't you see what I am? Don't you even know your own flesh and blood?" But he didn't see, and if Momma saw the truth, she wasn't telling.

When Chrissy left for veterinary school it was like being released from spiritual jail. Free at last from the constant pressure of being a small-town Preacher's daughter where meanness and gossip too often trumped the Lord's kindness. Now she'd come full-circle, back to this narrow-minded, little East Texas town, a town she couldn't wait to be free of, but this time things were different. She had her own home, a good job, but most of all she had Kat. There was a place for her after all, and strangely enough, it was back in Dry Creek in a house filled with love and acceptance, the kind of love that Jesus taught and that men like her father would never accept. Chrissy closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks for the love the Lord had brought into her life then headed into town.

Chrissy's father, the Reverend Charles Greyson, was working on his Sunday sermon, "Without Christ there is no Salvation" when the phone rang breaking his concentration and causing him to make a typo on his almost clean copy. Slightly perturbed that he'd have to employ the white-out yet again, he let out a faint sigh then answered his office phone.

"Good afternoon, Church of the Living Christ. Reverend Greyson speaking."

"Reverend, this is Brother Humphries again. I'll get straight to the point as I know you're a busy man.

In light of this Henry Turner situation, I've talked with the other Deacons and we've decided to go ahead with the protest tonight."

"I thought we cleared this up at the Elders meeting this morning, Brother Humphries. An act of this kind is not in the best interest of our church," said Reverend Greyson.

"There's been further discussion on the matter since this morning and a widespread change of heart -

very widespread. Brother Rodgers and I have talked at length with the other Deacons and Elders, and it is our unanimous decision that we stand tall against this evil. We cannot be silent in the face of such flagrant sin, Reverend."

"Brother, please don't do this. Salvation must be sought, it cannot be forced on others. We have no business going downtown and causing a commotion, or worse yet, a confrontation. We are not the Klan who howl their hatred and bigotry from the street corners like mad dogs."

"Reverend, I understand your heart overflows with Christian kindness for these lost souls, but when there's sinnin' going on, it's everybody's business," said Brother Humphries. "Brother Rodgers is with our youth group right now creating signs and banners. The decision has been made. We'll meet at the church at 8:30 this evening and then we'll march on this house of sin at 9:00 sharp. I'm hopeful that you will lead us in a devotional at that time and join us in this crusade to save the soul of our good Christian community."

"I don't see how I can do that, James. I'm strongly opposed to this course of action and advise against it with all my heart. Please, Brother, reconsider this brash action and do not lead our youth down this path. No good can come of it."

"Charles, as minister of our faith, you need to be a part of this endeavor, in fact, I'm surprised at your reticence. We place our faith in you to shine the light wherever it is needed. I can't be any more clear than that," said Brother Humphries.

"Then let me be clear as well; I will take no part in this, Brother Humphries, and I..." The sound of the dial-tone on the other end of the line ended the conversation and Reverend Greyson gently placed the phone back in its cradle wondering what course of action he should take next. With nothing coming to mind, he resigned himself to let the cards fall where they may and went back to working on his sermon.

Chrissy entered the Lil' Bit of Country to the sounds of laughter, Willie Nelson and the raucous clatter of pool balls. Kat was sitting at the bar chatting away with two well-dressed women who Chrissy assumed where Kat's friends from Dallas. Their fashionable leather jackets, beautiful shoes and big city hair styles made Chrissy feel like a poor country cousin, but before she could fret about it, Kat ran over and swept her up in her arms.

"Here she is, girls! This is my little honey bunny," said Kat with the enthusiasm of the slightly inebriated. "Chrissy Greyson, I would like you to meet, Rosa Delgado, and her girlfriend, Abby Horowitz. Ladies, this is my little Chrissy." Kat pulled Chrissy close and gave her a big wet kiss.

"Oh my Lord, Kat," exclaimed Chrissy, "You taste like cigarettes and alcohol."

"Imagine that? In a bar no less," said Kat. "Hank - another round of shots please."

The girls quickly said their hellos then threw back a tray of tequila with varied expressions of pain.

Abby pounded her fist against the bar to beat down the bite of the rattlesnake. Rosa chased hers with salt and lime and a couple large gulps of cold beer, and Kat immediately ordered Chrissy another to help her catch up. The bar was filling up fast around them and the pool tournament was in full swing.

"Why aren't you playing, Kat? You're pretty good with a stick, aren't you," chided Rosa.

"Hardly," said Kat. "I stay as far away from those things as I can."

"Very funny," said Chrissy. "She's not playing because she had such a lousy partner, namely me. We got kicked out in the first round."

"Now seriously, girls, have ya ever heard of a lesbian who cain't shoot pool?" asked Kat.

"Never heard of it," said Rosa. "That's like never playing softball."

"Me either," said Abby. "Are you sure she's queer?"

"Stop it, y'all," said Chrissy blushing. "I'm getting better, aren't I, Kat?"

"Yes, she is gettin' better. She can hit the white ball straight into another one providing there's not too much green in-between."

"Y'all, don't listen to her. I have a good excuse - I was raised in a church, not in a pool hall like some people," said Chrissy, casting her eyes at Kat in mocking disapproval. "I'm a good girl, ladies."

"Not too good, I hope," muttered Abby.

"Oh, she's good enough," said Kat. "Her home game is way beyond reproach."

"Hush up, Kat, you make me sound like a common gutter slut," said Chrissy.

"Gutter slut? Good Lord, get a couple shots in 'er and the potty mouth comes out," said Kat. "I like it!"

"Hey Big Kat!" said Rosa punching Kat in the arm. "I thought we were going to dance tonight? You promised us some boot-scootin' if we drove all the way out here. Let's go girls, it's time to get up and shake our groove things!"

"Oh no Rosa, not to this song, seriously now," said Kat. "Not Achy Breaky Heart."

"I LOVE this song," said Abby. "I learned to line dance to it back in New York."

"See Chrissy," said Kat, as Chrissy pulled her off her barstool and toward the dance floor, "They line dance to the Achy Breaky up in New York City."

"Be quiet, you, and come dance with me," said Chrissy.

The girls spent the next hour on the dance floor. Kat was pleased that Achy Breaky Heart started and ended the line dancing phase of the evening. Line dancing had no place in a real country bar as far as Kat was concerned. If you're gonna dance country, you two-step or you polka -- you do not line dance --

ever.

Dancing with Chrissy was pure joy and it pleased Kat that her lady was so happy. She knew that life hadn't been easy for Chrissy. It was hard enough to grow up queer in East Texas, but with a crazy preacher Daddy too; that's a hard one to rise above. Kat's Daddy was no preacher, not by a long shot, and he wasn't at all happy when she came out. He and Momma fretted over it for about a week before they accepted the obvious. In the end, it was far more important to Daddy that she was a good rancher than who she slept with. Daddy had decided years ago that she would take over the ranch when he retired, leaving no part of operational ownership to Junior. She and her father made a good team and he respected her as a cattle woman, and Junior, well, as Daddy once said to her as they watched Junior trying and failing to rope a slow moving calf -- Junior needed a strong guiding hand to find his own dick.

"What are you thinking about, honey?" asked Chrissy as they shuffled across the dance floor, "You went away for a minute there."

"Oh nothin' much. Just how good you look and how lucky I am," said Kat.

"You know I love you, Kitty Kat," whispered Chrissy into her ear.

"Right back at you, darlin'" said Kat, giving her gal a quick kiss then a big twirl in time to the music.

The beer was flowing, the dance floor was full, and all was right with the world. In the middle of the Dwight Yoakam's Honky Tonk Man, the happy crowd spontaneously burst into song. Kat sang to her baby, being a Honky Tonk gal herself, she could do no less.

Outside of the saloon a crowd had gathered armed with signs and banners. "Hate the Sin, not the Sinner", "Save our Youth", and "Steers, Not Queers in Dry Creek". Brother Humphries stepped forward with a megaphone and addressed the crowd, "Folks, tonight we're here on God's work. We cannot idly stand by while perverts take over the streets of our beloved town."

Solemn nods of agreement spread through the crowd and so he continued, "Don't be afraid to make some noise tonight. Let the Holy Spirit move you. Let His voice fill you and shout down the evil ways of the wicked like the trumpets that brought down the mighty walls of Jericho. And members of our youth group -- don't forget to take pictures of everyone who leaves that house of impropriety. Let all sinners be counted and numbered before the Lord and our righteous community."

Charlie the bouncer watched the growing spectacle from his stool at the front door of the bar then headed over to talk to his boss, "Hank, we got a problem out front."

Hank whipped around surprised to find that Charlie has deserted his post, "What the hell? C'mon Charlie, why ain't you workin' the door? People can't just walk in here! We gotta card 'em, son. TABC

will close us down-"

"Boss, you really need to come look at this right now," said Charlie.

Hank walked around the bar and followed Charlie outside to where the protesting flock of the Church of the Living Christ were lining the sidewalk in front of his saloon.

"Well I'll be goddamned and deep fried," said Hank. "Charlie - don't let any of these crackers through this door. Get Earl on the back door too. I don't know what these crazy bastards are up to, but I intend to find out."

Hank Turner stormed down the sidewalk and headed straight for Brother Humphries who was leading a small group of elderly women in a warbley version of The Old Rugged Cross.

"Now just what the hell are you doin' out here, old man?" asked Hank.

Brother Humphries was filled wi