You Only Die Twice by Christopher Smith Page B

crest the hill far off to their left.   “Get up,” he said to Kenneth.   “Get up!”
    But
Kenneth, in the full throes of the Lord and how he had sinned against Him,
lowered his face to Ted’s boots.   He
pressed his cheek against them, he kissed them, he lifted his hands to Ted’s
calves, he leaned his face against his knees, and he cried.   When he did so, the car came over the
hill and Ted nudged Kenneth with his foot.  
    “ Get
the fuck up! ”
    But it
was too late.   The sight of a grown
man on his knees in front of another grown man in a barren place like Monson
was enough to get that car to slow down and for its driver to take notice.   As if in a fog, Kenneth turned to it
slowly, tears streaming down his face as the car rolled to a stop beside them.   It was a gold LeBaron, probably from the
early eighties, with barely any treads on its tires and eaten through with
rust.   A portion of one of the rusty
holes was covered with a bumper sticker that said, “Honey Boo Boo is Ma Boo.”   Inside were three men, all wearing
orange vests and orange caps.   Rifles
probably in the trunk.  
    Hunters.
    The
passenger, an obese man with a thick, grisly gray beard that was so bushy, it
concealed his mouth, raised his eyebrows at them and pressed a button that
rolled down the passenger-side window.   Sitting in the passenger seat was a skinny man half the driver’s age
with a thin black mullet.   He was
chewing something that wasn’t gum or food.  
    Tobacco , Ted
thought.
    The
passenger sneered down at Kenneth, who was still on his knees, and then he
looked over at the man who was driving.   Ted noted that the driver’s gut was so big, it sagged upon the steering
wheel.
    “What’s
goin’ on?” the driver said.
    “My
friend here just got the news that his daddy died.   He’s not taking it well.”
    “That
so?” the driver said.
    Ted
nodded.   “Just got the news on his
cell.”
    “Well,
if that’s true, that sucks.   But
between us?   It looked like he was
about to give you a blow job.”
    “A
what?”
    He
raised his voice.   “I said, it
looked like he was about to suck your dick.   Right out here in public.”
    Everyone
in the car broke into laughter.   Kenneth stood and faced them.   For a moment, it was clear that they were assessing his size and his
sheer muscular bulk, and that they were surprised by it.   Then something else flickered in their
eyes.   Recognition.
    “How do
I know you?” the driver asked.
    “You
don’t.”
    “Not
true.   I’ve seen you somewhere
before.   Recent.”
    “You’ve
never seen me before.”
    The men
in the car exchanged glances.   “He
look familiar to you two?” the driver asked his friends.
    They
nodded, but all agreed they didn’t know why.   “It’s not as if we hang around with a
couple of fags,” the man with the mullet said.
    “What
makes you think we’re a couple of fags?” Kenneth said.
    “Because
you were on your knees about to suck him off.   Looked pretty fuckin’ obvious to
me.”  
    “I said
he lost his father,” Ted said.   “I
told you he was upset.”
    “Why
don’t I believe that?”
    In Ted’s
jacket pocket was his Glock.   It
would be easy to grab and to use, provided they didn’t have guns in their laps,
which they might.   “I don’t give a
shit what you believe.”
    A
silence stretched.
    The
driver stared at Kenneth’s face.   “I
know you, boy.”
    Kenneth
stepped forward.   “Want to know what
I know?”
    “Enlighten
me.”
    “I know
that sloth is a sin.   And so is
gluttony.”
    “Gluttony?   What the fuck is gluttony?”
    “Greedy
and excessive indulgence.   Since you
probably don’t even know what that means, let me bring it down to your
level.   It’s eating everything in
sight.   It’s not stopping.   It’s gorging yourself full of food and
then eating more.”
    “You
callin’ me fat, boy?”
    “Are you
suggesting that you’re not?”
    “He’s
callin’ you fat,