STICKY CHU
Joghohl took me around the property of the mine all morning, pointing at things and talking about them. He showed me everywhere you could draw a cup of water, and we actually did at every spigot we came to. The heat was so thick, I’d soaked my clothes with sweat in an hour’s time; and I was only used to the windy summers of my home in Wisconsin, so I needed water dearly to fight off the lightheadedness that was coming over me.
From the moment I was first introduced to Joghohl as the new man he would be training, I got the distinct impression that he disliked me. But then again, I’d never met him before, so I had to consider that maybe he was just a crude, disagreeable mining man who hated the world enough to stab it all day with picks and drills.
“This laminate is expensive,” he said, “and it’s hard to work with.”
“Can you drink it?” I asked.
“No!” he barked. “And don’t ask stupid questions like that. It makes me feel like you’re mocking my”—he stammered angrily—“stupid little tour.”
I became sheepish. “Sorry, chief.”
“That’s okay!” he responded. “After all… we’re miners!” He raised a fist with determination.
“Why do we work with laminate then?” I questioned. “It seems odd—that stuff has no place in the mine.”
“We work with laminate because we love it, and because we love to share it amongst each other.” His voice was low now: “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be shutting your mouth the next time you see or smell laminate being transacted.” He paused, then added conclusively: “It’s our thing.”
“Well,” I said, a little dumbfounded about what should come next, “That’s fine. But do I have to use it? I’m scared of it.”
“Oh, tarnished tatters!” Joghohl grumbled. “Don’t go worrying me that you don’t have the necessary fibers. Now that I’ve hired you, you just want to disagree with everything, put on girl clothes and walk around chatting everyone up.”
“No I don’t!”
“I can see it in your eyes. You’re thinking, ‘Partly I do.’”
“Ahhh,” I growled. “What else can you show me?”
“Nothing that won’t piss you off,” Joghohl remarked. “Look, why don’t you go back to Hawaii and comb some hair? It’s easier, and you get all those pineapple drinks real cheap. You like those, I bet.”
My face was a picture of annoyance. “I never lived in Hawaii, and I only drink cold Schlitz, even when I’m thirsty first thing in the morning.”
This time Joghohl’s eyes widened, and he mimed like there was a very dangerous man in his presence. “God’s nose!” he gasped, “What a badass!”
I slumped my shoulders and tilted my head to the side, weary with these frustrations. “This is really unbearable,” I complained. “Why are you giving me such a hard time?”
“Because,” Joghohl snapped back: “You look like a goat. And the fact is, you’re nothing but a half-wit replacement for Sticky Chu, the man who worked by my side in this mine for ten goddamn years. He was a great man, and you are a stupid person with no skill in mining whatsoever. The only reason you’re here is that Sticky got killed by a couple of drunk Pueblo Indians who thought he was trying to catch them.”
I didn’t know what to say. As we entered the dark hole in the hillside I saw before me a man who was suffering from the loss of his good friend, and still struggling to cope with the absurd situation which had brought about his demise. I was reminded immediately of my unfortunate aunt having to tell us all that her son, my cousin and schoolmate Dennis, had been killed trying to pull a blender off the high shelf of the pantry by its power cord. It fell and landed on his head, but then he fell and broke his neck on the shelves of the opposite wall. Such a humiliating death—that was why I ran away to Ecuador in the first place. No one back home would get to hear my embarrassing details ever again.
“Sticky Chu had a lot of courage though, and I bet he frightened them into attack by acting so undaunted by their accusations,” Joghohl went on. “Even a pea-brain like you can understand that.”
I decided to let that one go, and try to bring the discussion back around to my job in the mine. But we never even got there. Two Pueblo indians jumped from the bushes at the mouth of the cave, and stared in at us with menacing grins.
“What the hell do you indians want?” Joghohl shouted, but there was a very discernable quaver of fear in his voice. With gothic, gloomy glee, the indians drew out knives and began chanting in low tones. The mine had polluted their holy mountain, and now they wanted the white man’s blood!
I felt myself beginning to die before the first blow fell on me, my heart clenching up in a hard, icy knot. I had no idea what was about to happen.
However it was not to me that bloody violence happened, but instead to the Indian that no doubt would have shanked me with a pointy, black rock dagger: his face burst at the cheek with blood and meaty flakes spraying out… he fell and laid completely still, leaving me better able to see a guard running toward the cave with his pistol drawn and a look of horror on his face. It seemed like the gun was pulling him through the air, and I almost had to laugh. Then I looked to my side, and saw that Joghohl had been gotten.
The indian was down on him, cutting up into Joghohl’s midsection with sick, sexual looking thrusts. Joghohl’s mouth was wide open, and he looked at me in terror. I pulled the indian’s head back, reducing the force of his jabs; but it was simply too late. The guard blew that indian away as soon as I let go of him, shot him twice in the chest and three more times in random places as his body sprawled over where we’d been standing. I turned away, completely shut up and shaken by the blood and the terror.
I had to balance myself on a tree, wiping at my sweaty face and trying not to think that this moment would keep going on no matter how I tried to stop or reverse it. The guard didn’t say anything to me, but I heard him use his radio to summon help.
Eventually I came out of my stupor, standing there facing away from the cave. I was leaning my shoulder into the tree, and feeling like a drunk man that had just undergone intense vomiting and muscle spasms as the result of his own stupidity. “What in the hell was that...” I looked up through the trees, the frightening and wild terrain that I was stuck in, steamy and savage Ecuador…
It was then that a large, colorful snake quietly stole up on me and bit me right in the crotch. My genitals felt like they’d been shocked with 1000 volts; and as soon as I looked down with that snarl of unexpected pain on my face, I knew those color patterns meant the snake was poisonous. I half-heartedly tugged at it, tried to fold its neck, watched it lash and writhe, slithering somewhere just out of sight.
My knees buckled and I fell on my side, both hands cupping my damaged loins like they were Cadburys melting in the hot jungle sun. I wept like a baby as the guard dragged me back to the cave, even though the snake was long gone. He laid me beside the others there.
The End
From the moment I was first introduced to Joghohl as the new man he would be training, I got the distinct impression that he disliked me. But then again, I’d never met him before, so I had to consider that maybe he was just a crude, disagreeable mining man who hated the world enough to stab it all day with picks and drills.
“This laminate is expensive,” he said, “and it’s hard to work with.”
“Can you drink it?” I asked.
“No!” he barked. “And don’t ask stupid questions like that. It makes me feel like you’re mocking my”—he stammered angrily—“stupid little tour.”
I became sheepish. “Sorry, chief.”
“That’s okay!” he responded. “After all… we’re miners!” He raised a fist with determination.
“Why do we work with laminate then?” I questioned. “It seems odd—that stuff has no place in the mine.”
“We work with laminate because we love it, and because we love to share it amongst each other.” His voice was low now: “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be shutting your mouth the next time you see or smell laminate being transacted.” He paused, then added conclusively: “It’s our thing.”
“Well,” I said, a little dumbfounded about what should come next, “That’s fine. But do I have to use it? I’m scared of it.”
“Oh, tarnished tatters!” Joghohl grumbled. “Don’t go worrying me that you don’t have the necessary fibers. Now that I’ve hired you, you just want to disagree with everything, put on girl clothes and walk around chatting everyone up.”
“No I don’t!”
“I can see it in your eyes. You’re thinking, ‘Partly I do.’”
“Ahhh,” I growled. “What else can you show me?”
“Nothing that won’t piss you off,” Joghohl remarked. “Look, why don’t you go back to Hawaii and comb some hair? It’s easier, and you get all those pineapple drinks real cheap. You like those, I bet.”
My face was a picture of annoyance. “I never lived in Hawaii, and I only drink cold Schlitz, even when I’m thirsty first thing in the morning.”
This time Joghohl’s eyes widened, and he mimed like there was a very dangerous man in his presence. “God’s nose!” he gasped, “What a badass!”
I slumped my shoulders and tilted my head to the side, weary with these frustrations. “This is really unbearable,” I complained. “Why are you giving me such a hard time?”
“Because,” Joghohl snapped back: “You look like a goat. And the fact is, you’re nothing but a half-wit replacement for Sticky Chu, the man who worked by my side in this mine for ten goddamn years. He was a great man, and you are a stupid person with no skill in mining whatsoever. The only reason you’re here is that Sticky got killed by a couple of drunk Pueblo Indians who thought he was trying to catch them.”
I didn’t know what to say. As we entered the dark hole in the hillside I saw before me a man who was suffering from the loss of his good friend, and still struggling to cope with the absurd situation which had brought about his demise. I was reminded immediately of my unfortunate aunt having to tell us all that her son, my cousin and schoolmate Dennis, had been killed trying to pull a blender off the high shelf of the pantry by its power cord. It fell and landed on his head, but then he fell and broke his neck on the shelves of the opposite wall. Such a humiliating death—that was why I ran away to Ecuador in the first place. No one back home would get to hear my embarrassing details ever again.
“Sticky Chu had a lot of courage though, and I bet he frightened them into attack by acting so undaunted by their accusations,” Joghohl went on. “Even a pea-brain like you can understand that.”
I decided to let that one go, and try to bring the discussion back around to my job in the mine. But we never even got there. Two Pueblo indians jumped from the bushes at the mouth of the cave, and stared in at us with menacing grins.
“What the hell do you indians want?” Joghohl shouted, but there was a very discernable quaver of fear in his voice. With gothic, gloomy glee, the indians drew out knives and began chanting in low tones. The mine had polluted their holy mountain, and now they wanted the white man’s blood!
I felt myself beginning to die before the first blow fell on me, my heart clenching up in a hard, icy knot. I had no idea what was about to happen.
However it was not to me that bloody violence happened, but instead to the Indian that no doubt would have shanked me with a pointy, black rock dagger: his face burst at the cheek with blood and meaty flakes spraying out… he fell and laid completely still, leaving me better able to see a guard running toward the cave with his pistol drawn and a look of horror on his face. It seemed like the gun was pulling him through the air, and I almost had to laugh. Then I looked to my side, and saw that Joghohl had been gotten.
The indian was down on him, cutting up into Joghohl’s midsection with sick, sexual looking thrusts. Joghohl’s mouth was wide open, and he looked at me in terror. I pulled the indian’s head back, reducing the force of his jabs; but it was simply too late. The guard blew that indian away as soon as I let go of him, shot him twice in the chest and three more times in random places as his body sprawled over where we’d been standing. I turned away, completely shut up and shaken by the blood and the terror.
I had to balance myself on a tree, wiping at my sweaty face and trying not to think that this moment would keep going on no matter how I tried to stop or reverse it. The guard didn’t say anything to me, but I heard him use his radio to summon help.
Eventually I came out of my stupor, standing there facing away from the cave. I was leaning my shoulder into the tree, and feeling like a drunk man that had just undergone intense vomiting and muscle spasms as the result of his own stupidity. “What in the hell was that...” I looked up through the trees, the frightening and wild terrain that I was stuck in, steamy and savage Ecuador…
It was then that a large, colorful snake quietly stole up on me and bit me right in the crotch. My genitals felt like they’d been shocked with 1000 volts; and as soon as I looked down with that snarl of unexpected pain on my face, I knew those color patterns meant the snake was poisonous. I half-heartedly tugged at it, tried to fold its neck, watched it lash and writhe, slithering somewhere just out of sight.
My knees buckled and I fell on my side, both hands cupping my damaged loins like they were Cadburys melting in the hot jungle sun. I wept like a baby as the guard dragged me back to the cave, even though the snake was long gone. He laid me beside the others there.
The End