Bud’s Blog #3
Hey, Bud here. Damn, I ve been gone a long time. Bet most of y’all done even remeber me. For those of you who don’t, my names Bud, oh yeah, I already said that. I’m an old friend of jack’s. I’ve had kind of a hard life, you know, and I thinks jack feels like responzbillity and shit for me and hey, man, I’m not one to argue with the free rent and beer. I live in his basement and do occasional work around the house like watch the place when they’s traveling or kill the neighbor’s dog when the damn thing won’t stop barking. You know, whatever.
Tonight Jack and Cynde wanted to get out and go see a movie so I says I’d stay in and watch the kid, what’s his name, Conrad, I think. Hell, I should know this cause I’m his godfather and shit. Anyway, I told them that I’d watch the kid on account of I’ve been traveling for months and I just wanted to stay in and do a little drinking. I told Jack if the weather cleared maybe I’d take Conor, that’s his name, Conor, out in the back yard with my .45 and teach him how to shoot at fireflies. You don’t hit a damn thing, but you can have a blast trying. Jack says maybe just let him play with his toys and watch a little tv before bed on account of it’s a school night. I give the boy a wink and whisper that Uncle Bud will take him out a little later and shoot off a couple of rounds before he brushed his teeth and got into his pajamas.
I gotta tell ya before I get to far along, I been drinking mosta the evening from one of jacks scotch bottles. Glen farclas or some such thing. Who comes up with these names? Anyway, the shits great with a little Dr. Pepper. Im startin to feel p[retty damnable good, I dont mind telling you.
So anyway I was gone a good long time. I aint usually supposed to leave town you know. That’s part a my parole arrangement. And Ive been good about that on account a I don’t want to go back to prison no more. If I can just stay out of the can for two more years then I’’ll be about even, meaning I spent half my life in jail and half out. Don’t ya know theres gonna be a serious party on that day. You all are invited.
Okay, so Im beein like old Boy Scout Bud and shit when all of a sudden I get the news that my parole offcer died. Anthony Buttecelli, was his name, but everybody just called him Tush. I never really understood why. Anyhow, Tush has been my parole officer for like ever. In fact, Tush was my old man’s parole officer too. He was always around when I was growin up. Mamma said, he useta look after me and play with me and bounce me on his knee when my old man was away. I think Mamma took her turn bouncing on that lap too, you ask me. But, hey that’s how it goes sometime. The thing is I liked the guy, so naturally when it came time for me to have my own parole officer, Tush was it for me.
Tush took up cross dressin in ladys clothes and when he was like 60 years old. He used to talk to me about that. I was the only one. You have know idea how good it feels to wear a woman’s panties, he says one day. What the hell ya telln me that shit for, you dumb ass, I said. Theres nobody else I trust as much as you, Bud, he said. Well, trust me less and shut up more, I told him. But Tush was who he was, ain’t nobody gonna change him.
One night a couple a months ago I get this call. It s ole Tush on his cell phone. He sounds reall bad and wants to know if I could come down and get him. Where ya at, I ask and he says the Two Faces of Eve or Steve or some such place, which is like this cross dressin club downtown. By the time I get down there ole Tush is dead. Nobody had called an ambulance or the police which ain’t no surprise when you think about it since nobody in a cross dressing club wants to even admit they are there. So I tell the manager I’ll take care of it and carry old Tush out to his car and drive him back to Jacks house and me and Jack get him changed back ina his clothes and prop him up on a laz-y-boy and turn on the tv to the Playboy channel and then I call the ambulance. Ain’t nothing suspicious bout an old man dying a horny death watching soft porn.
The funeral was up in Maryland where Tush lived. I went and a bunch of Tush’s parolees was there and of course a bunch of his police buddies. Tush’s widow was a pretty distrait about the death of her hubsand and she wasn’t too pleased that he was over at my place, well, you know, jack’s place, watching that filthy po^rnografy stuff as she called it. She didn’t know nothing about no cross-dressing though. I was glad about that. All the cops knew the real story. They was apprechiative. This sargaent come up to me and says, boy, I know what you did and I just want to tell you if need to leave town for a while nows the time. just don’t get in no trouble.
Hell if that wadn’t music to my ears. First thing I did was hitchhike my way up to Baltimore to see my Aunt Greta. I’ve been kinda broke and my old Aunt Greta has always come through for me with a few bucks when I need them. To be honest, Aunt Greta aint’ really my aunt, but she sure as hell thinks I’m her nephew. Some school kid named Tyler. Greta’s a sweet old lady, but nutty as a pancake. What happened was this. I was passing through Baltimore a few years ago, just walking down the street, when this lady opens her door and says, Tyler you best get in here and get your school work done if you expect me to fix you your supper. I was pretty hungry at the time. What the hell, I figured, and I went inside. She made me do about a hundred goddamned math problems and slapped my fingers with a ruler when I did em wrong. But you know what, that woman made a mean sloppy joe sandwich and I was grateful to have it, sore knuckles and all. As I was leavin she gave me $20 bill and said be sure to put that in the bank for college. I said yes ma’am and was on my way.
I went back a lot to sea my old Aunt Greta. Shed ask me about school and I’d tell her that I was getting all As and Bs and that made her happy. Then she’d reach into her purse and give me a $20. After a while I told her about how colleges was raisin their prices and shit and she upped it to $50. Yeah, I know, it don’t seem right, but I was her nephew, Tyler, the only family she had left. It made her feel good to give me the money, so give me a break, okay?
It’s been like a year since I seen my Aunt so I didn’t know what to expect when I got up to Baltimore. I rang the doorbell and nobody answered for a long while. I kept ringing and a ringing and finally somebody answered. Only it weren’t old Aunt Greta. It was a tall, skinny black kid. What the hell ya want, he says. I said where’s my Aunt, what have you done with her? He says, what are you talking about? I tell this kid that my name is Tyler and that I’m the nephew of the woman who owns the house, the white woman. He don’t know what to say to this, I can see it regerstering in his eyes that this is serious shit. Who the hell are you, I ask him. He says his name is Leroy.
Before too long Leroy tells me how he got to be staying at my Aunt Greta’s house. Apparently, Leroy used to work on a trash truck down near Washington, but got restless and had to move on. He come up to Baltimore and met Greta at a bus stop. Leroy laughed, she thought I was you. Where you been, Tyler, she says. Very funny, I say to Leroy, but you ain’t me. I know that, Leroy says, but she offered to make me a sloppy joe sandwich and I was damn hungry. Did she make you do the math? I asked him. What math? Leroy says. Well, that just sucks, I say, you didn’t even deserve that sloppy joe sandwich.
Leroy told me that my Aunt Greta disappeared a couple of weeks ago. She said she needed to go down to the drug store cause she had a coupon for some free mouthwash only she never came back. And you didn’t even go look for her, I asked him. What the hells a matter with you? I guess I kind of forgot, Leroy says.
I put my hand out toward Leroy. What? He says. You know what I’m talking about here. Where’s the money, Leroy. Well, we go back and forth about that and I finally convince him that he either give me the money or I call the cops. This is all that’s left, he says. He hands me Aunt Greta’s purse. I reach in there and find a couple of bills in one of them bank envelopes. There’ s a total of about a hundred and fifty bucks. I give Leroy one of them you oughta be ashamed of youself looks which is a bit of a trick for me on account of I never been ashamed of nothing. I opened the door and Leroy walked out with his hands in his pockets and headed up the street and that was the last I seen of him.
This is kind of where the story really gets interesting, but I think I’ve gone on long enough for tonight. I wonder if anybody’s still reading this crap. Damnation, my drink’s empty. I’m gonna go get myself another Scotch and Dr. Pepper and check on the kid, Conrad. Maybe the boy’s ready to go out back and shoot some fireflies.
I’ll come back in a couple days and tell you the rest of this story cause it needs to be told. It involves a girl, of course. Life always gets all complicated and fucked up and shit when a girl’s involved. At least that’s how it usually goes for me.
You all have a nice evening.
10:32:55 PM 
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