Sunday, September 18, 2011

Excerpt From My Nothing Men Novel

Here's an excerpt from Nothing Men, which is coming soon to the Kindle.  I may post more later, but here is a tease.



“When my momma found out she was pregnant with me, the whole village was happy. They all hoped I would be a girl because there hadn’t been a girl born here in a long time. The last one who was left with her momma when she was only eight. That was years before I came around.” She suppressed a belch.

“Okay,” Amanda said. She didn’t know what this had to do with Charles’ name, though.

 “Like I said, everyone wanted a girl ... everyone but my daddy. He wanted a boy so he could do man
things with him. Teach him trades and all that. He was a carpenter and did butchering and taxidermy stuff, too. From what my momma told me, he was the only one in Valley Bottom who wanted a boy.”

 “That’s kinda weird. Shouldn’t people just have been happy because your mom was pregnant?”

 Charles seemed surprised by Amanda’s comment. “No. It ain’t like that.”

 “Okay, so your dad wanted a boy and named you Charles. That’s not that sad.”

 Charles leaned back on the table. “You wanna hear the story, or you wanna make up your own?”

Charles stood up and began to pace. “When I was born, my daddy was devastated, but everyone else was thrilled. My mom, to make my daddy feel better, let him name me Charles.”

“Did anyone else care about that?”

 “No. Everyone was just glad I had a pussy.”

 Amanda never heard it put that way before, but she prodded her new friend to continue.

 “My dad started drinkin’ more and takin’ more pills ‘cause he was depressed. My mom said it was meth, but I never knew. I just knew he never seemed quite right. Momma Rose told me later that he was brain damaged to begin with. My daddy was a retard, but people still brought him their animals to work on.”
“He was a vet, too?” Amanda asked.

“Not like a real one who went to school, but he could do things. Fix them and stuff. Sometimes he couldn’t, and they died. I’d help him ... once I got old enough to hand him the tools. I think I was about four. I remember helpin’ him with Mr. Ash.”

Amanda shuddered. She couldn’t imagine helping her father operate on animals.
“When I was five -- and this I remember -- old Mrs. Quinn brought her dog in to be fixed. It was humping everything ... even a cat, which I found funny. My mom wasn’t home, so my daddy asked me to help him with the tools.”
“You saw a dog get fixed?” Amanda asked. She felt a little sick. She wasn’t sure what “fixed” was when it came to a dog, but she imagined it had something to do with its balls and maybe a sharp pair of scissors or something.
“I seen a lot more than that, doll girl. It was no biggie.”

“It’s gross, though.”

“No. Anyway, my daddy put the dog on the work table and knocked it out with some drugs he had in a needle. And the last thing I can remember is him turning to me and sticking me with the same needle.” She pointed to the side of her neck. “Right here.”

“What the fuck?” Amanda exclaimed. “Your dad drugged you? Why?”