Swine Flew Over the Osprey's Nest

By Don Winfield

Swain “Swine” Aquinas awoke with a start and a feeling of impending doom. Last night he was being sought by the Quincy, Massachusetts Police Department, and had taken refuge in an unlocked semi-trailer behind a warehouse on the Quincy docks. Swine made himself comfortable on the cardboard boxes of imported computer paper, and hunkered down for a short nap. The nap lasted nine hours when it ended with a startled Swine jumping to his feet and careening headlong into the aluminum wall of the trailer. Slowly opening the trailer’s roll-up back door, Swine could see he was in a totally different world than the one he’d fallen asleep in. He was in a truck stop parking lot. Drivers were laughing, tossing friendly insults at each other and the general mood seemed festive. Scanning the area with squinty eyes, half blinded by the bright sun, Swine could make out the truck stop sign. Florence, NC. “Holy shit!” thought Swine. “How could I have slept through a trip like that?”

When he could see nobody around the back of the trucks, Swine slipped out, leaving the door open. He made a bee line for the restaurant. The sign above the yellow door read ‘Mae’s Truck Stop & Strip Bar”. Swine didn’t give it much thought. He had problems of his own to worry about. Broke, filthy, and less than a dollar in his pocket, Swine felt more alone and lost than he had in all his 25 years. Being an impulsive man, Swine sat down at the counter and ordered up the biggest breakfast on the menu. “Once it’s in me they can’t take it back”, he thought.

While wolfing down three runny eggs, three link sausages, four hotcakes, a mountain of gummy home fries, and three mugs of burnt coffee, Swine felt a tad more human and his brain was working a little better. He’d spotted the shy red haired waitress who was working the counter, but she wouldn’t make eye contact. “Too bad”, he thought, noticing her eyes were bluer than the summer sky. When she caught Swine looking her way, she looked down, and scurried off to wait on another trucker. It was on one of her look down and walk away phases that the rejuvenated Swine had his first winning idea of the day. As the young waitress walked toward the other end of the counter, Swine bolted. Out the door and across the parking lot at a dead trot, went Swine Aquinas. He had no idea where he was going, but needn’t have worried, as his flight was suddenly halted by a size 16 work shoe stuck in his path. The shoe’s occupant, Harry “Steamboat” Coe, marveled at the flying young man’s spectacular trajectory. Swine flew four feet into the air, arms and legs flailing wildly. He did a half gainer with a twist to the left, and landed on his back in the gravel with a sodden "whoomp" as the air exited his lungs.

Before he could collect his wits, a huge hand grabbed his grubby shirt front and yanked his scrawny butt straight up. Swine found himself suspended in the air with his feet dangling a foot off the ground. “You planning to pay that bill, brother?" Steamboat asked. “That young lady’ll have to pay it if you get away, you know.”

Swine in fact hadn’t known that. Now he did, he didn’t particularly care. At the moment, however, he was jacked up dangling in the air, scared for his life, and ready to agree to anything that would get his feet back on the ground. He desperately wanted to continue his flight, but then he saw the pretty young red head holding the unpaid check in her hand. She was waving it at Swine, all shyness gone and replaced by obvious anger.

“Just where do you think you’re going, pal?” she demanded.

Pinky Helms was a pissed waitress. She’d been eyeing Swine on his stool inside, and thought he looked alright though a bit dirty and disheveled. She thought he’d clean up just fine. Then he up and bolts on her check! What a disappointment.

Pinky had seen a lot, including near-do-well check bolters in her four years at Mae’s. She’d learned early that that’s the nature of business along Interstate 95, the main corridor for travelers heading to and from Florida. Four years ago, Pinky’s mother had said, “wait here by Magic Mountain, sweetie. Mommy has to go to the ladies’ but I’ll be right back”. Three hours later, a family from Ohio became curious about the skinny teen walking aimlessly around the Goofy Lot crying and mumbling, “I can’t believe she left me and took off!”

The Bromleys from Akron offered her a ride, and in a confused stupor Pinky accepted. Although she lived only an hour and a half from Disney in Ocala, Pinky didn’t think much about her trip north with the family of four. By the time they stopped to eat at Mae’s Truck Stop & Strip Bar, Pinky had had enough of the parents bickering, the kids fighting, and the pet Jack Russell Terrier chewing on her clothing. She pulled her mamma’s trick. After excusing herself to go to the bathroom, she slipped out the back door of Mae’s and hid in the card board recycling dumpster until after the Bromleys gave up looking and hit the road to Ohio again. Mae’s owners noticed the young girl hanging around for two days, and offered her a job bussing table and dishwashing. A room to stay in came with the job, and a year later, Pinky became a full-fledged waitress, making barely enough to survive on and expert at fending off passes, pinches, and lewd suggestions. Her frugal lifestyle had helped her accumulate $6,437.68 in savings. She kept it in a savings account and used her Visa Debit Card to access it only in dire emergencies.

Pinky’s question to Swine about where he thought he was going caused him to pause. “Good question,” he thought. Here he is. Middle of South Carolina, no money, no luggage, no transportation, and absolutely no prospects. Harry had let him regain terra firma, and the three strangers stood in the middle of Mae’s lot just looking at one another.

“Well." stammered Swine. “I have no idea what’s going to happen next. One minute I’m dozing off in a paper hauler and the next thing I know, I’m 900 miles away from home, broke and hungry. At least I didn’t break my back when this dude tripped me.”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” said Harry. “I saw you running, and Pinky coming after you waving that check. It was just reflexes, man.”

“No problem, I guess I deserved that crash.” said Swine, though he seriously doubted he really did. Still, the Quincy police were 900 miles behind him, and worse things could happen to a fellow. He didn’t regret stealing those Girl Scout Cookies and selling them on the street corner. He just regretted getting caught and having to leave the proceeds behind when the cops tried to grab him up. That was a hard earned $37.50 and would have bought him meals for a couple of days, ‘til his first paycheck from the shipping company arrived. “Oh, yeah,” he mused. “That job is probably gone now, too.” They’d warned him about ‘no-call-no-shows’.

“I’ll take care of your check.” said Pinky. “But, you owe me big time.”

“The truth is, I can’t promise to repay you ‘til I get work. Give me your address and I’ll send it to you,” Swine lied.

“Oh no, mister. I’m not letting you out of my sight ‘til I get back this $5.23 plus a 15% tip. Harry’s been after me to ride to the Keys with him on a run, and today’s the day we both get in that truck and head south.”

Pinky looked pretty determined, and Swine couldn’t think of anything better than going off to Florida with such a pretty young lady. He’d secretly always had questions about certain aspects of red heads, so what the hell? He and Harry looked at each other, and the deal was settled.

After Pinky went back into Mae’s and quit on the spot, she filled a small suitcase and a brown grocery bag with her worldly possessions. She jumped into the Peterbilt’s spacious cab with Harry and Swine and they were heading for the sun.

Over the course of the next 700 they all got to know each other. Harry was amused by the verbal dance of two young people, obviously attracted to one another, striking up a relationship. Harry may have been a truck driver but was a smart guy who could see where this was heading, and wished the kids luck and good fortune. He wouldn’t be putting any of his own paycheck on it lasting, but what the hell. “God bless ‘em.” he thought

Sixteen hours, four truck stops, and three greasy meals later, the happy band crunched to a halt in the parking lot in front of ‘Bob’s Bike and Kayak Rentals’, Big Pine Key, Florida. This was the final destination for the cheap Indian motor scooters and plastic Indonesian kayaks in the trailer. Bob’s was going to expand into the scooter rental business, and the kayaks were supplemental to the current inventory of rentals.

There were 25 scooters and 57 kayaks on board. Originally 60 kayaks had been loaded in Michigan, but Harry ran short of cash in Charlottesville, VA, and the 3 frat boys considered themselves blessed to be able to buy them for $50.00 apiece in the Micky D’s parking lot. He didn’t feel he needed to explain that to ‘Saint’, the current owner of Bob’s.

It was a splendid reunion of father and son, there in Bob’s Bike & Kayak Rentals. Thomas Swain “Saint” Aquinas, Sr., and Thomas Swain “Swine” Aquinas, Jr. recognized each other at the same time. They came running together with raised arms and loud exclamations of how long it had been and how surprised each was to see the other after 10 long years. Once within swinging distance, Swine hauled back and round house punched the senior Aquinas, knocking him backward six feet, landing on his backside.

Dazed, Saint just sat there in the gravel. “Why’d ya do that, son?” He inquired indignantly.

“Why’d ya leave me at 15 to live on my own in Quincy?” Asked Swine.

“Damn, son,” muttered Saint. “You know that if I’d been caught for that third assault, they’d have put me away for three to five. I’ll tell you what, boy. I’ll make it up to you starting right now.”

“Just how do you figure to do that, pop?” Swine asked suspiciously.

“I’ve outlasted the statute of limitations in Massachusetts. And now the rental business is really picking up. Seems the lower Keys are getting too full of tourists so they're spillin’ northward. You can be my partner here. I’ll sign a paper and everything making it all legal. Life is good here on Big Pine.”

Until now, Pinky had just been standing back stunned by the revelations unfolding before her. Swine turned to her and said, “What do you think Pink? Should we take the old man up on his offer? Oh, by the way pop, this is my new girl, Pinky Helms. I met her up in Florence, NC. Aint she pretty?”

“Now don’t that beat all? You talk about coincidence. My new wife, Bobby is a red head and her name used to be Helms too. Come on out here, Bobby, and meet my son and his girlfriend.”

At the door to the rental shop, there appeared a young looking 38 year old woman. She had the same pretty blue eyes and flaming hair as Pinky’s. Pinky took one look and began running toward the woman starting across the lot. As they reached each other, Pinky fairly flew the last five feet and landed on the other red head, hitting, kicking, biting and pulling her hair. Pinky had to be forcibly pulled off the other girl. Some of the spectators boo'd when it ended, but Harry grabbed one female in each hand, separating them and lifting them into the air.

An Osprey sitting high in a mangrove had been observing the whole scene with a cocked head. He sounded a little disgusted as he screeched his mating cry and took flight. Pinky took his cue and spoke first. “I really had to get that out of my system. It’s been a long time, momma. Good to see ya.”