Read Online Honky Tonk Samurai (Hap and Leonard) by Joe R. Lansdale - Free Book Online
Authors: Joe R. Lansdale
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the pen. When we were back in the car, Leonard said, “Talk about going from hot to cold.”
“Oh, really? I have patents on sex toys? A white couple left you money for being a gardener? And you secretly hated them and were plowing their fields, making them scream and shit themselves, and to fuck the old woman you had to imagine a donkey? Roses that could kiss your ass and petunia tours in the winter for nuns and Boy Scouts? What the hell, Leonard?”
“We were already burned,” Leonard said, starting up the car, easing it off the lot. “I thought I might as well mess with her. I didn’t like her.”
“I guess you have a point, brother. It was over before we came in the door. I mean, she nibbled at the bait a little but didn’t like the taste.”
“Yep. She’s not going to call,” Leonard said. “Our pony stumbled into the ditch when you mentioned Sandy. And I think mentioning Ms. Buckner broke its leg.”
“And you shot the pony in the head with that gigolo-gardener crap,” I said.
“Someone had to put our bullshit pony out of its misery,” he said. “It was kind of funny, though, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“Hap?”
“It wasn’t.”
“Hap, come on, man.”
“It was amusing to some degree. The old woman shitting herself was a nice touch.”
“Told you. And I don’t believe she had a hat to go with that outfit. I would have a hat with something like that. I like a good hat. She had a hat, she’d have had it on.”
“You see her keep looking out at our car?” I said.
“I think she was memorizing the license number.”
“If she’s got the contacts, and I bet she does, she’ll find someone who can trace it to a car rental.”
“Yep. We’re fucked on the secret-agent front,” he said. “We were better at sexing chickens back at the chicken plant.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “I couldn’t tell a chicken wee-wee from a dee-dee. I could make a good aluminum chair, though.”
“And I was a good bouncer.”
“Until you got fired for kicking that guy’s ass and peeing on his head.”
“Yeah,” Leonard said. “They thought that was excessive. Bunch of weenies. You know what we did do well? Rose-field work.”
“We did. But it was hot in the summer and cold in the winter.”
“Seasons work like that, Hap. It’s not uncommon. Sometimes it rains, too.”
“We’re not actually too good at anything, are we?”
“Sadly, I was just thinking that,” he said.
Leonard drove us to the office. I never let go of that pen. We pulled up in the lot. The sign for our office had changed, of course. It said BRETT SAWYER INVESTIGATIONS . That was done right away, and Marvin did it. He had to make sure no one thought he was working both sides of the street.
Just for luck, I checked for the bicycle lady and the shorts she likes to wear. She has a very successful store downstairs. You wouldn’t think you could sell and repair that many bicycles, but then again, you got to see her in those shorts so much of the time. They make men and some women want to buy a bicycle or a hippopotamus, and catching sight of her in those sweet little things is as fine and satisfying as a tour of petunias in the dead of winter.
Neither she nor her shorts were on display. There were no petunias, either. Not that I’d recognize one if I saw it.
8
W hen we came into the office the air-conditioning hit us in a pleasing way. It wasn’t as savage as the air in the car-lot office, but it was showing summer some anger. The couch was pulled out, and Brett and Buffy were asleep on it. Brett woke up when we closed the door but only moved a bit and didn’t open her eyes.
Buffy raised her head in a tentative manner, like she was expecting a beating. When she looked like that I wanted to drive over to that fellow’s house and pull him out of it and kick him around the way Leonard and Marvin had. I wanted to see him on a daily basis and do just what he had done to a helpless, loving dog. I wanted to see
“Oh, really? I have patents on sex toys? A white couple left you money for being a gardener? And you secretly hated them and were plowing their fields, making them scream and shit themselves, and to fuck the old woman you had to imagine a donkey? Roses that could kiss your ass and petunia tours in the winter for nuns and Boy Scouts? What the hell, Leonard?”
“We were already burned,” Leonard said, starting up the car, easing it off the lot. “I thought I might as well mess with her. I didn’t like her.”
“I guess you have a point, brother. It was over before we came in the door. I mean, she nibbled at the bait a little but didn’t like the taste.”
“Yep. She’s not going to call,” Leonard said. “Our pony stumbled into the ditch when you mentioned Sandy. And I think mentioning Ms. Buckner broke its leg.”
“And you shot the pony in the head with that gigolo-gardener crap,” I said.
“Someone had to put our bullshit pony out of its misery,” he said. “It was kind of funny, though, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“Hap?”
“It wasn’t.”
“Hap, come on, man.”
“It was amusing to some degree. The old woman shitting herself was a nice touch.”
“Told you. And I don’t believe she had a hat to go with that outfit. I would have a hat with something like that. I like a good hat. She had a hat, she’d have had it on.”
“You see her keep looking out at our car?” I said.
“I think she was memorizing the license number.”
“If she’s got the contacts, and I bet she does, she’ll find someone who can trace it to a car rental.”
“Yep. We’re fucked on the secret-agent front,” he said. “We were better at sexing chickens back at the chicken plant.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “I couldn’t tell a chicken wee-wee from a dee-dee. I could make a good aluminum chair, though.”
“And I was a good bouncer.”
“Until you got fired for kicking that guy’s ass and peeing on his head.”
“Yeah,” Leonard said. “They thought that was excessive. Bunch of weenies. You know what we did do well? Rose-field work.”
“We did. But it was hot in the summer and cold in the winter.”
“Seasons work like that, Hap. It’s not uncommon. Sometimes it rains, too.”
“We’re not actually too good at anything, are we?”
“Sadly, I was just thinking that,” he said.
Leonard drove us to the office. I never let go of that pen. We pulled up in the lot. The sign for our office had changed, of course. It said BRETT SAWYER INVESTIGATIONS . That was done right away, and Marvin did it. He had to make sure no one thought he was working both sides of the street.
Just for luck, I checked for the bicycle lady and the shorts she likes to wear. She has a very successful store downstairs. You wouldn’t think you could sell and repair that many bicycles, but then again, you got to see her in those shorts so much of the time. They make men and some women want to buy a bicycle or a hippopotamus, and catching sight of her in those sweet little things is as fine and satisfying as a tour of petunias in the dead of winter.
Neither she nor her shorts were on display. There were no petunias, either. Not that I’d recognize one if I saw it.
8
W hen we came into the office the air-conditioning hit us in a pleasing way. It wasn’t as savage as the air in the car-lot office, but it was showing summer some anger. The couch was pulled out, and Brett and Buffy were asleep on it. Brett woke up when we closed the door but only moved a bit and didn’t open her eyes.
Buffy raised her head in a tentative manner, like she was expecting a beating. When she looked like that I wanted to drive over to that fellow’s house and pull him out of it and kick him around the way Leonard and Marvin had. I wanted to see him on a daily basis and do just what he had done to a helpless, loving dog. I wanted to see
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