The Sick Stuff by Ronald Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

As the kid headed down the corridor, he turned and
grinned broadly at his tormentor. A profusion of bloody razor
blades sprouted from the chubby cheeks of the four-year-old.
    Stephen Zachary felt other small eyes, both
living and dead, burning into him and he turned away, unable to
meet their stares of gleeful accusation. He waited on pins and
needles, knowing that an eternity of suffering lay between the
letters of A and Z.
     

OLD HACKER
     
    Ever since I was a barefoot young'un in these
Tennessee hills, I regarded the old man with downright disgust. Or,
rather, that particularly nauseating habit of his.
    His name was Jess Hedgecomb and he lived out
in the West Piney Woods near Hortonburg. Folks said he was
something of a hermit; just a lanky, old geezer who lived all by
his lonesome in a two-room shack by Silver Creek and roamed the
forest, trapping and hunting to make his meager living. He was
harmless enough, I reckon. He had a sad way about him, but he was
friendly enough in conversation and was known to flip a shiny
nickel to any kid who happened to be standing at the candy counter
when he sauntered
    into Dawes Market for his weekly groceries.
Yeah, he was a harmless, well-meaning old man, I'll have to
admit.
    But he still had that godawful habit.
    My papa called him Old Hacker, more out of
amusement than anything else. See, whenever the old gent was
standing around shooting the bull with the regulars on the porch of
the general store, he would get this strange look on his face just
before he was gonna clear his throat. The racket he made was kind
of funny and kind of scary at the same time, especially for a
young'un like me. Then, with a turn of his head, Old Hacker would
send a great, gray-green glob of phlegm into the dirt road -- or a
spittoon, if one was handy.
    Like I said, it was a nasty habit, one I
wrinkled my nose at every time I laid witness to it. However, as I
grew older, I began to notice something that gradually changed my
revulsion into a strange fascination.
    ~ * ~
    It began during the summer of my sixteenth
year. I was working for Mr. Dawes part-time; sweeping up the store,
stocking shelves, and pumping gas out front whenever a customer
pulled up.
    One sweltering July afternoon, I was helping
load cement sacks into the back of Sam McNally's pickup when I
suddenly heard that ugly sound. Old Hacker let loose with a glob of
mucus that landed no more than a yard from the truck's left rear
tire. I shook my head in disgust, glanced down at the ugly mess,
and nearly fell clean off the store porch.
    That streamer of green spittle was a-twisting
and a-wiggling in the clay dust like it was a danged mudpuppy! I
looked over at Sam, wanting to call his attention to it, but
thought better of it. When I glanced back down, the thing was gone.
Not dried up by the scalding summer sun, though -- I mean it was
plumb, lickety-split gone .
    It happened again a couple of weeks later. I
was pumping unleaded into some out-of-towner's big Buick. Old
Hacker was sitting on the porch, playing barrel-top checkers with
Mr. Dawes. I just stood there, watching the old man, waiting for
him to cough up a hefty lunger. Directly, he did just that, sending
a glob to the side, so that it hit the white-washed porch post.
    Half in horror, half in awe, I watched as it
inched its way up the post like some slimy green worm. When it
reached the rain gutter, it stretched out and barely caught hold. I
held my breath, sure that it was gonna drop to the ground with a
splat. But, finally, it found its footing and disappeared over the
slope of the corrugated tin roof.
    Almost afraid to, I looked back to the
checker game. Much to Dawes' surprise, Old Hacker skipped the
remaining three of his reds, winning the game. Then the old-timer
turned and stared straight at me, flashing me a knowing wink. It
spooked me so badly that I pumped two gallons over the amount the
stranger wanted and had to pay for the mistake out of my own
pocket.
    That weekend I hiked