Upside Down

While awaiting the rapture, Millard contemplate his deeds, both good and bad. Written in fluent stupid. All grammar and misspellings are intentional.

The back o’ my head hurts. It’s a throbbin, stabbin kind o’ pain, like the sensation I git when my Old Lady is holdin the fry pan her momma gave her win we got married. Suspicious, I looked ‘round to see if the Old Lady wuz about. That’s wen I discovered that there wuz gravel an’ dirt where the sky oughtta be. That ain’t good. I think the Revelation section of the Good Book talks ‘bout something like this.

  I wunner why I ain’t been Raptured yet. Maybe I ain’t getting’ in ‘cuz I puked in the Old Lady’s favorite flower pot. Naw, that cain’t be it. Them flowers ain’t never looked better. Hell, the Old Lady even got herself a blue ribbon win she put ‘em in the county show. If anythin that oughtta be counted as a good deed.

     Maybe I ain’t Raptured ‘cuz I stole the gas outta Little Junior’s boat motor. He ain’t caught on yet, but I think I left my chewin tebbacca in his yard. Lucky fer me, Little Junior ain’t all that bright. He might not know the tebbacca is mine, even tho my name is on the tin. Big Junior’ll figger it out tho, and won’t that be a b***h? He ain’t all that big a fella, but he sure can kick a*s wen he puts a mind to it. Plus, he knows howta hit so it hurts for a good long time without leavin a mark. Maybe Big Junior’ll let it go if I bring him a pile o’ lotto scratchers.

  Now my foot hurts. I can feel it swellin up in my boots. That ain’t good. How’m I suppose to work the carpet mill with my foot all jacked up? If I don’t work the Old Lady is gonna get her fry pan an’ take it to me. Come ta think o’ it, maybe she already knows. My head sure does hurt, an’ my face is beginnin ta tingle a bit. Where is that woman? Maybe she got herself Raptured already. It would be just like her to go off and go to Heavin without tellin me. Gotdamn woman. If she didn’t have that fry pan, I’d kick her a*s.

  “Hey Millard! Whatcha doin’ down thar?” Wayne called after me. His speech is thick an’ slurred. Lord, that boy sure is drunk! He sure ain’t getting Raptured today. God don’t like drunks.

  “I’m getting along!” I yelled on back. “Ain’t nuthin fer you ta worry ‘bout.”

  “You sure? You don’t look none too comfortable.”

  “You don’t worry none. The Rapture’ll take care o’ me.”

  “The Rapture? What Rapture?” Wayne is confused. I don’t mind it much tho. It happens to him a lot an’ more often win he’s been drinkin. But he’s family, and you gots to make allowances fer family.

  “The one in the Bible,” I replied patiently. Poor Wayne is an igit. You gotta be patient and take yer time. Those folks cain’t help it.

  “Oh. What makes ya think there’s the Rapture?” I guess Wayne is dumber then they say. He didn’t even know that the sky is turned ta dirt. Lord, the pain in my foot and head is so bad, its gone to my belly. Lord, help me ta not puke on an angel win its my turn to Rapture.

  “Well Wayne,” I said slowly and calmly. “The world’s done turned upside down. I figger that means the Rapture is comin.”

  Wayne began to laugh. The he took to guffawin like a mule who’s got corn rum in its water barrel. That bugged me. Wayne ain’t got no right ta be laughin at a fella like me. I guess I gotta let it slide even tho he’s chappin my butt hairs. Wayne don’t know no better an’ those folk gots an odd sense o’ humor. I sighed real loud an’ heavy so Wayne knows he’s fixin ta git his a*s kicked. Shore enough, he wandered off, but I could still hear him hee-hawin.

  “Millard, what do you think you’re doin?” the Old Lady wuz usin her sweet reason voice. She’s gonna take that fry pan ta me as soon as we git back ta the trailer. Dear Lord, please rapture me now, even if your fixin ta send me ta Hell for givin it ta the Old Lady’s Aunty Blue. That woman might be old, but Lordy, she knows things. Good things. Things that make a fella’s eyes roll in his head like marbles. I even taught sum o’ those things to the Old Lady. We ain’t never had more fun. She shore ain’t threatin ta leave me for Gary no more. See, another good deed. I ain’t gittin divorced.

  “I ain’t doin nuthin,” I replied kindly. “I’m jess hangin ‘round.”

  “You shore are Millard. Why are ya doin it upside down and hangin from the fence by yer foot?”

  I look ‘round agin. Shore enough I see Wayne’s four wheeler off ta the side, with its tires set right on the grass. And it’s still upside down. I looked up at my feet, and wouldn’t ya know, thar be a clear blue sky where the dirt oughtta be. Gotdamnit. I ain’t bein Raptured after all. And sumbitch, that means that I done made a fool o’myself drinkin too much agin. The Old Lady won’t git out her fry pan,  but she ain’t gonna let this one go neither. I think maybe I ought ta piss her off real good real soon. Maybe she’ll beat me ta death with the fry pan so I won’t have ta die o’ embarrassment.