Freezer Burn

Thirty-four

It was very cold that night under the car, and the wrench was small and Bill had to hold the little flashlight in his teeth. He didn’t know if he should throw the wrench away afterwards or what, and he couldn’t figure out the brake line anyway. He was lying there freezing, the wrench in his hand, the light in his teeth, trying to remember how this stuff worked. He finally realized it wasn’t going to come to him.

A pale head poked itself under the car.

“What you doin’?”

It was Pete. He was bent down, looking under the car. It looked as if he were wearing his head upside down.

“Nothing. I’m working on the car.”

“What wrong with?”

“I don’t know.”

“How fix it?”

“I don’t know.”

Bill slid out from under the car on the other side. He could feel the dampness soaking through his jacket, into his back.

“I’m supposed to get blow job,” Pete said. He had risen up and was looking over the top of the car at Bill. He had on a thin coat.

“Yeah.”

“I like it blowed.”

“Good. Good for you.”

“You blow me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then I blow you.”

“No. I don’t like it.”

“No?”

“No.”

Bill was uncertain what to do. He slipped the wrench in his coat pocket, held the flashlight and looked around. No one.

“I noticed the brakes weren’t working right today. I thought I’d check them.”

“You blow me?”

“I said no.”

Bill went around, poked the flashlight at Pete for a better look, saw he had a big blue knot on the side of his face. His dick was hanging out of his pants.

Apparently, Pete had already tried to get his blow job tonight, but, as was the custom, he had failed. Only he’d forgotten. Probably, tomorrow, he wouldn’t remember a thing about any of this. Then again, he might.

“I got to look under the hood,” Bill said.

Bill popped the hood and poked around in there. He opened the brake fluid box and saw that it was full. He fastened the box up and closed the hood. “Looks low on fluid to me. I think it’s leakin’.”

“I’m gonna git a blow job.”

“You ought to go in. It’s cold.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna git a blow job.”

“I don’t think so.”

“No.”

“You already had it.”

“Did?”

“Double Buckwheat. I seen you git it.”

“Did?”

“Yeah.”

“Frost not supposed to know.”

“I wouldn’t tell him. Who am I to come between a man and his blow job?”

“I had it?”

“Yeah. It’s too cold for me. I’m going in. I’ll see you, Pete.”

“Okay.”

As Bill walked to the Ice Man’s trailer, Pete said, “Did I like it?”

Bill turned. “What?” Then he put it together. “Oh. Yeah. You thought it was great.”

“Oh… Good.”

“Good night, Pete.”

Bill went inside the trailer. After a moment he looked out the window. Pete trudged across his view, and Bill went and opened the door and stuck his head around the corner. Pete was walking across the ground looking dejected. Bill watched until Pete came to the trailer he shared with assorted ill-shaped heads, and went inside.

Bill eased back in the trailer, got a tablespoon and a can of Coke out of his little refrigerator. Outside, he opened the Coke and poured its contents on the ground. He went out to the car, lifted the hood and with the flashlight in his teeth again, he used the spoon to dip fluid into the Coke can. He filled the can, taking out most of the fluid.

He gently closed the hood.

Frost didn’t poke his head out of the motor home.

Pete didn’t show up asking for a blow job.

Double Buckwheat was nowhere in sight.

Neither midget, pumpkin, nor pinhead was stirring, not even a mouse. Bill took the can of fluid and the spoon over to the edge of the river and tossed the spoon way out for no other reason than he wanted to. He put his thumb over the opening in the Coke can and tossed it with a side arm move.

Fluid sprayed from the can, streamed out of it as it flew through the air, went into the water, churned under and was gone.

Bill watched the river for a moment, let out a breath, and went inside his trailer and sat down on the stool and used the flashlight and the dryer to look at the Ice Man.

He no longer slept with a blanket over it.