Kelly and I met Little Redneck (Clayton) and his girlfriend Wanda when they ventured out to the hot springs in the desert. They were about our age but were fairly straight. Clayton was from Alabama where he’d run away from home right after his 16th birthday and had roamed around Texas until he’d been hired as an oil field worker. A few years ago he had met Wanda and they became an item. A year later he’d fallen off a rig, had hurt his back and had gotten on workman’s comp. They decided they’d had enough of Texas and wanted see to California. On their travels they’d heard about the hot springs, had come out to see it and, because the rent was cheap and the cops were non-existent, decided to stay. Wanda got a job at the local high school as a cafeteria worker while Clayton milked his government bennies. We became friends because they loved to drink, smoke pot and run wild in the desert. Although they never got naked in the pools, wearing their swimming suits instead. We all thought this was strange but what the hey, we all got our quirks. The other thing Clayton loved most was shooting his guns, of which he had a large assortment, both rifles and pistols. His favorite was his .357 magnum and he never went anywhere without it. He always wore an old bomber jacket with a shoulder holster underneath.
After we became friends the rest of us at the pools stopped calling him Clayton and gave him the name of ‘Little Redneck.’ Not only because of his being form the south and having guns, but because he dressed like a cowboy with the hat, the boots, the bandanna, the snap button shirt and the jeans, and he drove a 4X4 Dodge Power Wagon with a rifle rack. Also, he was short. Him and Wanda were about the same height, maybe 5’6” with Wanda out weighting him by a few pounds. After they were here awhile, Little Redneck bought a Baja Buggy and really tore up the desert. One of our favorite things to do was after drinking copious quantities of beer and tequila and smoking mucho mota, we would build a roaring fire then using one of his large bore guns, sometimes even a .45 caliber black powder rifle, shoot the fire until it went out. Then light it again and shoot it again until the fire just wouldn’t start anymore. Once on a 4th of July we even did this right in his front yard in town but since this was the desert, no one cared.
About the only problem Little Redneck and Wanda had was when he went on a drunk. Weekend drinking and partying were all right with Wanda but a week long drunk wasn’t. After a few days of Little Redneck’s drinking, Wanda would start bitching at him until he couldn’t take it anymore. He would either stop or leave for a few days to drink and stay with friends in LA until he sobered up enough to come back home.
After one of his sojourns to LA he came back with this story: “Me and my friend were out bar hopping last Friday night” Little Redneck says, “and I had to take a piss. Since I don’t like peeing inside, especially around anybody else, I thought I’d go out in the ally to relieve myself. Just as I’m finishing up and about to put my dick back in my pants I hear, “Give me yer wallet motherfucker or I’ll cut ya a new asshole!”
I look over my shoulder and see this punk kid standing there with a knife in his hand. When he sees me looking at him he says, “I mean it motherfucker! Give me your money or I’ll gut ya right here!”
I just smile at him as I put my dick away. Then I turn around and say to him, “Okay man, don’t get excited. I don’t want to get hurt so be cool. You can have all my money.”
"He relaxes a little as I reach into my jacket. But instead of bringing out my wallet, I whip my .357 out and press it right into his cocksucking face. Man, you should have seen it. One second he’s all tough and angry looking, then it like he can’t believe it, and then he’s shitting his pants and crying."
"He drops the knife saying, “Please mister, please don’t shoot me.”
"I tell him to be cool or I will put a bullet right between his motherfucking eyes. He just stands there whining, “Please don’t kill me. I didn’t mean it.”
"I tell him, “Well, I do. Give me any trouble, any excuse, and you are one dead cocksucker!”
"Then I tell him that since he was going to rob me, I think it’s only fitting he now give me his wallet plus any other valuables he has on him. He starts to protest but I just dig that .357 harder into his forehead and tell him to either fork it over or die. He’s still whining but he gets out his wallet and hands it to me. I ask if he has anything else. He gives me his watch and some pocket change, then says that’s all he’s got. I then tell him to give me his shoes and socks."
"He asks me why."
"I say, “So I don’t have to worry about you robbing anyone else tonight. And remember this punk; I got your wallet so I now know who you are and where you live. If I ever see you again I am going to come and kill not only you, but your whole motherfucking family! Understand!”
"He drops his head and says he understands. He takes off his shoes and socks dropping them next to he knife then stands there. I tell him to get the fuck out of there. He turns and ambles down the ally never looking back. I holster my piece then count his cash. He only had $17, some change, a pretty good buck knife, a cheap watch that wasn’t worth a shit and his raggedy tennis shoes. But he also got a very valuable lesson; You are taking your life in your hands when you rob somebody.”
We all agreed that justice was served.
Kelly and I partyed a lot with Little Redneck and Wanda for over 2 years. We always had a good time and became really good friends, then one day it all ended. Kelly and I went over to their house to see what they had planned for the weekend. When we got there we didn’t see Little Rednecks Power Wagon in the drive but since we were there we stopped and knocked anyway. After all, Wanda might be home.
She was. And she was not in very good shape. She let us in and right away we could see that someone had beaten her up real bad. Her face was all bruised and one of her eyes was swollen shut. She moved real slow as she made her way back to the couch. We asked her what happened? Before she answered I thought, ‘man, I sure pity the poor son of a bitch who did this to her because for sure, Little Redneck is going to kill him.’ She took a drink of water then said, “It was Clayton.”
I couldn’t believe it. As far as I knew he had never hit her before.
Wanda continued, “He was drinking all week and I was tired of it. So for the past 2 days I’ve been raggin’ on him to quit or git. Last night he stayed out all night long and when he came home this morning he was stinkin’ drunk. I told him to get the fuck out and don’t come back until he’s sober.” She pauses as tears roll down her cheeks, then, “He told me to fuck off. It was his house too, and if anyone was leavin’ then it was me. Well, we argued some more until I’d had enough and started pushing him towards the door. That’s when he hit me. I couldn’t believe it! Then I got so mad that I started hitting him back. Then he totally lost it and beat me up. I was screaming at him to get out and finally he did. He left saying that he wasn’t never coming back.” Wanda really starts crying.
Kelly and I tell her that she’ll be lucky if the bastard never does come back, and if he does, she should immediately call the cop and have him arrested. In fact, she ought to call them right now and have his ass thrown in jail. Wanda told us if he just wouldn’t come back then that would be good enough for her. We asked if she need to go to the hospital. She told us that it probably looked a lot worse than it was. We hung out with her comforting her until she said she’d like to rest. She said she would call us if she needed anything else.
Next day Kelly and I were soaking in the hot pools when Little Redneck pulls in and gets out of his truck. He walks up to us and says, “Well, I guess you heard what happened?” I looked him right in his eyes and said, “Yeah, we heard. And we are no longer your friend. In fact, neither Kelly nor I will never speak to you again.”
Then I stared real hard at him. He started to say something, but then he just hung his head, then turned away, got back in his truck and left. We never saw him again. Wanda finished out the school year then moved to another city. We still see her from time to time and say “Hi.” but our time together is over, and all because of a stupid act of violence.
Unprovoked violence is something that I will not put up with in my life. If you get mad at someone and can’t control your anger then scream, holler, throw a fit, call names, even take your anger out on inanimate objects or even on yourself, but perpetrating a violent act on another human being is always wrong, ALWAYS! There is never any excuse you can offer me that I will accept. The person who hits first deserves whatever penalty they receive. With me it will be; You are no longer in my universe. I believe we should all live together in peace and harmony however, I know that since it’s not always possible, the least we can do is not harm each other. I think, not perpetrating a violent act against your fellow human beings is not too much to ask of a person. Life is to enjoy, or at least peacefully tolerate one another on this wonderful planet.