SWINE FLEW OVER THE OSPREY’S NEST
© 2009 Don Winfield
Swain “Swine” Aquinas awoke with a start and a feeling of dread. Last night he was being chased 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 until it ended with Swine suddenly jumping to his feet. Slowly opening the trailer's roll-up door, Swine could see he was in world very different from the one he’d fallen asleep in. In the truck stop parking lot, drivers were laughing, tossing friendly insults at each other and the general mood seemed light and cheerful. Scanning the area with squinted eyes, half blinded by the bright sun, Swine could make out faded words on the truck stop sign. Florence, NC. “Holy shit!” thought Swine. “How could I have slept through a trip like that?”
Waiting until there was nobody around the back of the trucks, Swine slipped out, leaving the door open. He made a bee line for the restaurant which bore a sign reading ‘Mae’s Truck Stop & Strip Bar”. Swine didn’t give it much thought. He had problems of his own to worry about. Aching, filthy, and not 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 eaten, they can’t take it back”, he thought.
While wolfing down three runny eggs, three link sausages, four hotcakes, a mountain of home fries, and three mugs of bad coffee, Swine felt much 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. 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 brilliant Swine had his first winning idea of the day.
As the young waitress walked toward the far 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 rose 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’.
Before he could collect his wits, a huge hand grabbed his grubby shirt front and yanked his scrawny butt out the dirt. Swine found himself suspended in the air with his feet about a foot off the ground. “You planning to pay that bill, brother”? Steamboat asked. “That young lady’ll have to pay it if you run off, you know”.
In fact Swine hadn’t known that. Now he did, he didn’t particularly care. At the moment 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 earth. 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, her shyness gone and replaced by obvious anger.
“Just where do you think you’re going, pal?” she demanded.
Pinky Helms was one 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 sobbing and mumbling, “I can’t believe she took off and left me!”
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 heard enough of the parents bickering, the kids fighting, and the pet Jack Russell Terrier chewing on her shirt. 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 busing table and dish washing. 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 in only the most dire emergencies.
Pinky’s question to Swine about where he thought he was going caused him to pause. “Good question”, he thought. Here I am. 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”, Swine stammered. “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 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 girl. He’d secretly always had questions about certain aspects of red heads, so what the hell? He and Harry looked at each other. Both men shrugged helplessly and the ride 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 soon they were heading for the sun.
Over the course of the next 700 miles 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. He may have been a tough truck driver but was a smart guy who could see where this was heading. He grinned and silently 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 trio 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 rental inventory.
There were 25 scooters and 57 kayaks on board. 60 new kayaks had been loaded in Michigan, but Harry ran short of cash in Charlottesville, VA. 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 shocking and spectacular reunion of father and son, suddenly face to face in Bob’s Bike & Kayak Rentals parking lot. 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 square in the face. The blow knocked him backward nearly six feet, landing him on his backside.
Dazed, Saint just sat there in the gravel. “Why’d ya do that, son?” he inquired innocently.
“Why’d ya leave me at 14 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 may know that now, but a 14 year old kid doesn't grasp the problem. He just knows he's been left all alone,” Swine croaked.
“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 the rental business is really picking up. The lower Keys are getting too full of tourists so a lot stop here now. You can be my partner. Paper and everything. We'll make it all legal. Life is really good here on Big Pine.”
Until then, 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. Ain't 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 new girlfriend.”
At the door to the rental shop, appeared a young looking 38 year old woman with flaming hair the exact same shade as Pinky’s. Pinky took one look and began running toward the woman starting across the lot. As they reached each other, Pinky actually flew the last five feet and landed atop the older red head, punching, kicking, biting and pulling her hair. After a few moments, Swine and Saint pulled Pinky off the other girl.
“I had to get that out of my system”, Pinky explained, dusting herself off. “It’s been a long time, momma. But it's sort of good to see ya”.
Up in an ancient palm tree behind the rental shop, high enough to see everything for miles around, sat a scruffy old osprey. He saw the little drama unfold below and slowly shook his head back and forth. He made a mournful cry as he jumped off his perch. The blistering Florida sun glinted off his wings as he caught air and soared out over the Gulf. His only goal to do some fishing and enjoy the natural order of his world.
Author's Note: This is the 1st in the “Swine” series of short stories. Keep your eyes and mind open for more Swine as he shares his adventures in the Florida Keys, and sometimes other geographic locales.
