Ordinary Handsome

Among all my other tools, I kept a fifty-pound bag of lime and an empty coffee can in the back of the Jeep. Nobody would pay any mind to it, since there were a lot of dirt basements in Handsome. After a rain like this, the dampness stunk up houses and clouded backyards with septic overflows.

I needed to keep Jackson as fresh as I could. I’d sprinkle it over him like pepper in a soup pot. It helped, but only a little.

So what did your son do, he asked.

What did he do?

I tossed half a can of lime on Jackson’s lap. He was giving off a nasty gassy smell that made my stomach want to roil and heave.

Did he rob a bank or something? Folks don’t normally call on the sheriff for no good reason.

I set the coffee can down on the table. It didn’t matter now.

He got involved with the wrong sort of woman, I said.

It looked like Jackson smirked.

I’m thinking about where I should put you, I told him.

I’m good here, he said. Though it does get particularly cold and wet at nights.

The rain’s gotta stop sometime.

And then there’s winter.

I thought about prying up the floorboard and setting him underneath. I had a pry bar in the back of the Jeep, and the construction of the shed was jack-leg basic. If they were onto me, the place was useless anyway.

So what happened, asked Jackson.