THE BRONZE WARRIOR

by Dale Hudgins Copyright 2001-2004

Chapter One

Can you believe it, every time that one particular man walks into the room, he just swoons, and at least that’s what they say about him, with him being Childers Macintosh?

I am not a prejudiced person, but I do think men should be with women, and women with men. God did make us in his image. He didn’t want us to wait for a few years and then say; I think I will be gay, or that I will be a lesbian.

There ain’t no such thing as a raisin pudding, at least that’s what my granddaddy used to say about them kind of folks, and I have no idea what he really meant by that, but sometimes when I watched him walk, when I grew older, as I wondered this, he seemed to have a little hitch in his giddy-up, when he got up out of his easy chair and walked around some.

That’s whole thing about the way people are, me included, we are all essentially wanting something, but afraid to go after what we want, and the tricky part is, that most of us, don’t even have the first clue as to just what is it the hell we even want, much less trying to figure our own way in this tough row, we all have to hoe.

Take Granddaddy for example, he never knew what he wanted, but sure had an idea of what everyone else should want or how they all should act, even as he harbored, I later came to think, his own little secrets.

My sister Jennie Katrina Thatcher, actually walked in on old grandpa one day as he was going through Jennie’s things, and found a copy of her dirty magazine, Playgirl.

He didn’t hear her come in, and he was just sitting there on her bed, staring at the pictures of the naked men that were posing nude for the camera. She was so shocked that she caught him doing this, and was trying to figure out just why he was doing this, that she couldn’t say a word to him, she just stood there watching him staring at that magazine, then all of a sudden she told me, he just turned around and saw her looking at him, like she was and he immediately began to curse at her, asking her why she had such filth, as he threw the magazine down on the floor, and folded his arms, waiting for a reply to his question.

Chapter 2

"Wanna hear how my day’s been," Childers McIntosh asked his partner, John Levens, and without waiting for a reply, begin to tell him, "I woke up with shitty drawers from me eating all those damn day old collard greens this morning for breakfast, that you fixed yesterday, and that’s really a reflection of the way my life has been up to now."

"What, your life is a shitty filled pair of underwear?" John asked, with an amused air about him, and a half sneer on his face, "and don’t you blame the collard greens on me, I told you that I was putting them in the refrigerator and that if you didn’t eat them the other night, that they would go bad, and you know that, as many times as you’ve eaten collard greens."

"No, but that it is a mirror image of my life, it’s now and has been, nothing but filled with crap, has been since the day that I was born, I wake up get up off the metal spring bed, walk ten steps, and pull back the curtains and I see shit, a city that’s nothing, then I turn and walk another fifteen steps to the other side of my shitty apartment, open the door, and…

John interrupting him, tiring of this tirade of Childers, "Ok, ok, I get the picture, enough already!"

"And, I," Childers continued on, oblivious of him trying to stop him with this depressing account of his daily routine, and not noticing John’s animated way of covering his ears, to try to drown his voice out, and it wouldn’t have mattered to Childers anyway, he was the type of person that always finished what he was saying, even if no one was left in the room, or if they tried to talk and ignore him, he would talk louder until he finished all of what was on his mind, droning on, and on, and on, "reach down to get the newspaper and what do you think I see," again, without waiting for a response, he kept up this accounting of daily events, "my neighbor across the way, dressed to the max, in women’s underwear and makeup, prancing around in the middle of his Goddamn room, Jeezus Gawd Alll Mighty, you would think that he wouldn’t flaunt his shit everywhere or anywhere, for God and every last person on earth to see!"

"But Childers, you do the very same thing, you dress up in women’s underwear and makeup for me, every day." John told him, thankful that he had finished that awful and boring, depressing tirade, and now he was about to set him off again, with his comments, he was slow to realize this and did this without thinking and now wished that he hadn’t said anything, now, but still thought it was funny, but wished he wouldn’t carry on this way, he knew that once Childers got on a subject, he wouldn’t be quiet about it until he got every last drop of anger out of his system, but he did think a lot of this man, he was good to him, and would give him the shirt off his back, if he asked, and had many other ways about him that were really wonderful, he was caring, loving, kind, and generous, to a fault, sometimes, especially with his family, they didn’t give a rat’s ass about him, especially now that he had come out of the closet and told them that he was gay. He did this at last years Thanksgiving dinner, with him, John, right by his side, holding hands with him, and looking at him, like there was no one else in the room. Needless to say, this caused quite an uproar around the dinner table, and we both were ordered out of the house by his father and told in no way shape form or fashion, of mincing his words, he told he and I, "to never come back, ever, again, you fruitless bunch of Goddamn faggots, if you ever come back in my house again, I will kill you right where you stand, get out, you both make me sick." Childers didn’t bat an eyelash, just took me by the hand and led me to the door, but I was ducking the whole way out, afraid that the crazy old goat would shoot us both, right where we stood, and this was the kind of man that he was, not afraid to be himself, once he knew that this type of lifestyle was what he wanted, and he didn’t care what his old man thought of him or me, just told me, "Fuck him, he is shot out and doesn’t really mean it, he just thinks it can’t be, that it is his son, that is gay, like me, or you, might rub off on him, he’s just afraid that he might have those type of feelings or thoughts inside him, that’s why he reacted the way he just did, so it doesn’t matter, let’s go home.

The knife was pointed at my throat with the hand of this man, quivering behind it.

Needless to say, I was terrified: I figured it was best not to move at this point and time and just stood there waiting for him to say or do whatever it was that he was going to, and each time his hand quivered, I felt my knees begin to move in time with the quiver I felt emanating from the cold steel blade and this one, with his breath, the smell of alcohol and vomit, wafting from his toothless mouth, into my nostrils and I felt like I was going to be sick and heave my guts up all over this quivering man, but as I realized that if I made any movement whatsoever, that this day would be my last, and the knife he was holding at my throat, that I would impale myself, but I almost laughed out loud, when the thought of what I was thinking

"Look at him just sitting there staring at us, feedin’ his fat, pig face ‘n watching every move that we make, he’s just dying to arrest somebody and make a few points with the voters." Darby said in a hushed voice.

"Yes, and if you don’t shut up, he’s going to make an example of you or maybe us, ‘n take us off to jail, so stop it, and quit acting suspicious." Vase, (a nickname his friends gave him when he was a bicycle, flower delivery boy, years ago), said back to him and beginning to get nervous as he saw Sheriff Bob get up out of the booth he had been sitting in and was making his way over to Darby and his group, "Here he comes, so just shut up and let me do the talking ok?"

"Why you, why should you do all the talking?" Darby asked.

"You have a big mouth, and you act in a way that makes cops like him, suspicious of people like us, just like now, ‘cause of the way you were doing just now, he would’ve eaten all his lunch and probably not bothered us, if you hadn’t been staring at him and then whispering to us and cutting your eyes over at him, so, that’s why you should let me do the talkin’, ok?"