Consequences

Consequences

I was working as a jack of all trades at the local Homeless shelter. The place started life as a motel, but gave in to economics, and took guaranteed county money to stay in business. It definitely isn’t run down.

The owner, Clark, warned me about a local who picked on the motel residents constantly. “Watch out for a guy named Frank Butler. He has a problem with this facility, and the people in it. He has terrorized more than a few of the residents here, some have been hurt so much, and so often, that they won’t go places where they will run into him. One thing about him. He is very fair skinned, and when he gets mad, he turns bright red. Combined with his red hair, he gets called Red a lot, and it really pisses him off”.

“Thanks for the info, I’m not too worried. I can handle myself”.

A few days later, while in the hardware store, suddenly, I found myself on the floor. Someone had bumped into me, and sent me flying.

“Watch where you are going, asshole.”

I looked up and saw this big guy standing over me. He looked to be over six foot tall, although I’m guessing from my spot on the floor

“I wasn't moving, Red”, I said. “ You ran into me. You need to watch where you are going”.

Let me stop here, and explain some things. I am Charlie, and I grew up living in a car before we-my Mom and my sister and I- were found living on the street by the police, who took us right to Social Services, and we ended up here, in the very motel I am now working at. That said, you learn quick in those circumstances not to take any crap from anyone. That attitude solves lots of problems later on. Being polite is OK, taking abuse isn’t.

Back to the problem at hand.

“What did you say to me”? The guy said.

“I said, pretty clearly, you ran into me, not the other way around. You deaf, Red”? I must have struck a nerve. I didn’t realize it then, although I think I knew right away, that this was Frank. Having finally “met” him, I knew that Frank and I had a bit of a history. When we were younger, we both went to the local high school, where Frank specialized in bullying. Things haven't changed for Frank,

but they have for me. After High school, I did 6 years in the Army, and came back to the motel, looking for some peace and quiet.

“You asshole”, and he drew back his foot to kick me. Just as one foot left the floor, I rolled over, grabbed his dirty jeans leg, pulled and he fell. I

continued my roll, got on top of him, and said, “Let's get something straight. You will not be able to bully me. Might as well stop it now”.

A clerk hustled over and said ”Frank, you again? Do you really want to be barred from here again”?

Ah, a repeat offender

A few days later, while on a short ladder at the motel, I was approached by Frank. He had backup with him, but the guy looked to still be drunk from last night.’”

“Well, well, well. It's the asshole who attacked me and got me barred from the hardware store. Do you know who I am?”

I couldn’t resist the cheesy comeback.

“No, didn’t your parents tell you? I said, as I got off the ladder. “Oh, that's right, Orangutans don't talk”. The guy screamed “you bastard”, and swung his right fist. I was expecting it, blocked his arm down, then pushed him, hard, continuing Frank on his way down to the floor. He might have been mad before, now he was turning red, still cursing at me. By this time, Clark had shown up, carrying a baseball bat, and said “I heard the noise. What can I do to help?”, with

a gleam in his eye. Luckily, the alky said “Frank, let it go. You know we have other ways to fix his wagon”.

Apparently a war of sorts had started. Frank didn't try to bully me directly, but seemed to step up his abuse of everyone else in the motel.

Unfortunately for him, several dads, uncles, and a few “well padded” moms had organized a kind of a “Neighborhood Watch” and whenever Frank got on the motel property, he ended up getting worse than he planned to give.

There was some damage to the motel, but he was slick enough, we never saw who did it, but we knew it was Frank. Clark and I had soon had a talk about Frank, and I mined Clark's memory.

I asked about things like, where he lived, the work he did, what kind of car, favorite hangouts, etc. Clark also said “His car is a green Chevy Nova. Frank has caused a lot of trouble in town, so he never parks his car close to where he is. Seems lots of people, including police keep looking for him, and didn’t bother if they didn't see his car. He works at a gas station in town”. I know this doesn't square with my wish to live a simple life, but sometimes, life isn"t simple

I said “Good Information”, and I got to work. I started scouting Frank. As soon as I had a pattern, I soon made sure to do something to Frank every week,

but on different days. I also had my friend, Tommy, act as lookout. I didn’t want to have my face in the car, and have Frank sneak up on me. Flat tires? Yup.

Multiple ways, multiple times. I never cut them, just pulled valve stems, or simply let the air out. Had to do two tires to make sure he was stuck.

Frank had an older car, so I knew I could remove the back seat, crawl into the trunk, and remove the jack. One flat tire stranded him that time.

Another time I put talcum powder in his interior car vents, used a baster to get it far back, where he wouldn't see it. His car was an old one, and had hand dials, not modern push buttons. Turned the fan speed to its highest point, and kept hearing town gossip on how Frank was coated by the talc.

A favorite of mine was altering his car so it wouldn't start. Tommy and I would make sure Frank was at work, find his car, and find a way to keep it from starting. Unhook all the spark plug wires? Done. They are attached in a certain order, if you don't know that order, the car isn't starting. I replaced the wire leading to his distributor with a rubber hose that looked identical, but was missing the inner wire that conducted electricity. The car won't start without that wire and it's really hard to figure out. Once I tied the choke lever closed, no gas could get thru.

Meanwhile, town gossip was telling me Frank was being Frank, and was still bullying those he could, and terrorizing as many people as possible. Each person he ran into got asked if they were the one vandalizing his car. Then Frank got caught trying to start a fire at the motel, and beat a resident up while doing so.

Clark and the resident both pressed charges, the police were only too happy to help. Frank went to jail for 3 months, and I got visited by Diedre.

Now, I have heard that some women like to cruise places where men hang out, like local ballparks, hardware stores, even the grocery and men’s clothing areas. One day, while shopping, this real nice looking woman started talking to

me. I answered questions, but soon told her I wasn't really interested. I am trying to keep my life simple. Women, much as I like them, don't help me in that regard.

Then she dropped the bombshell.

“Look”, she said, “Frank is my friend with “benefits”. He is in jail, I need a replacement. You will do just fine”.

Well.

It was hard to turn that down. Extra middle finger to Frank, consenting adults, unattached sex, what's not to like?

Our meetings became a kind of a regular thing, it seems Frank spent way more time in jail than the average citizen.

Two things I couldn't figure out.

Why hadn’t Frank confronted me about his car, and why hadn”t he come after me randomly, like he did the other citizens.

It turned out I spoke too soon. I was at one of the local watering holes, when Frank dropped onto the bar stool to my left, some other idiot sat on my right.

“So, handyman, what do you know about vandalism to my car? And, by the way, you look familiar. Have we met?”

“Well, having seen that piece of shit you drive, I’m surprised you got here. Looks to me that the car isn’t being tampered with, it is just a piece of junk that wont run”. I wasn't about to bring up high school. Nothing to reminisce about.

Frank started to turn red. “Listen, asshole”, loud enough for the bartender, Sam, to come over and tell Frank to calm down, in a way you knew Sam meant business.

I couldn’t help myself. I blurted out “Sam, did you see how Frank here turned almost as red as the birthmark in Deidre's upper leg?”.

It wasn't the smartest move, but, boy, the reaction from Frank was worth it. He tackled me, and we were wrestling and trying to hit one another. Sam hopped over the bar as we were fighting, and picked Frank up, and threw him across the room. “Frank”, Sam said. “Half this bar has seen that mark, including me, and some of the ladies, too. Get out”.

After he left, Frank must have needed some more abuse, because he sought out Diedre, and confronted her about seeing other men. The “discussion” turned violent, and both Frank and Diedre landed in the hospital, Diedre with a broken arm, Frank with multiple stab wounds.

Frank got 6 months in jail, Diedre got slapped on the wrist, pun kind of intended. I decided to see if I could scare Frank enough that he would stop harassing people. While he was in jail, I got under his car, and made a few

adjustments. His car would drive, but be hard to handle. I hoped he would take it as a sign.

What I didn't anticipate was Frank getting out, making the liquor store his first stop, and getting drunk.

It happened on a long, mile and a half long stretch of road outside town. Frank, as many hot rodders did on this stretch, hit the gas. When it came time to slow down to make the 90 deg turn, there were no skid marks. The police theorized that Frank's car lost its brakes, left the road, became airborne, and ran headlong into a tree, hitting about 4 ft up. He died instantly.

I guess I crimped the brake line a little too much.

In the weeks that followed, many townspeople commented on how much nicer it was with Frank gone.