Arlo's Goldmine
By James Gary Vineyard
Where destitution meets depravity, two unlikely companions find success together, but success is a relative term…
The old lady next door didn’t know Arlo Wormley was stealing her electricity because it never amounted to much. The illegal wire he connected to her house sucked off just enough juice to energize two 60-watt bulbs and a dorm-size refrigerator that he’d snatched off someone’s front porch.
Arlo began squatting in the shotgun shack a year after his Bad Conduct Discharge from the Army. He had wrecked his military future in a single night. After arriving at Kandahar Airfield in Afghanistan in 2010, he began to unravel. Blind drunk, he crawled behind the wheel of a Humvee and clipped a parked Blackhawk helicopter. During his DUI arrest, he punched a furious Staff Sergeant in the mouth, knocking out two teeth. The fight ended his deployment and a court-martial followed. After serving a little time, he received the dreaded BCD. Big Chicken Dinner. A discharge that denied him all military benefits.
As a troubled, unskilled civilian, he tried street corner panhandling with a cardboard sign, then graduated to larceny and slinging crack that got him state pen time. Out on parole, Arlo traded a skid row buddy some crack rocks for a .22 pistol and a carton of subsonic ammo. Having no TV, he took great delight in shooting rodents that infested his quarters.
One night, while he was high and eating sardines out of the can, he saw movement in the window. A black indescribable blob which he decided was an espiritu oscuro, a Spanish term he’d picked up in prison. It meant a dark spirit.
“Beat it, you unearthly sumbitch,” he said, grabbing the gun. He rushed to the window and opened it. On the outer ledge sat the biggest rat he’d ever seen. At first, he thought it might have been a beaver or even a fat woodchuck, but a closer look confirmed that it was indeed a rat.
Aside from its intimidating size, the rat didn’t seem evil-intentioned. In fact, its eyes were sad and its mouth formed a sheepish smile as if it was embarrassed…or hiding a secret.
Arlo laid the gun down and held out his hand like he would to a strange dog. The rat licked Arlo’s fingers and rubbed its head under his palm which made Arlo laugh like it was Christmas morning.
“Well, lookee here,” Arlo said, lifting the giant rodent. He took it to his easy chair and stroked it. “You hungry, boy?” He fished out a sardine and the rat devoured it. Arlo thought for a moment and grinned. “I’m gonna call you King Oscar!”
While Arlo fed King Oscar the remainder of the sardines, he noticed the rat smelled like it had been in a fire. “Whoa! Where’ve you been, boy? Why, you’re lucky to be alive.”
Finally, King Oscar stopped at a railroad crossing. When Arlo caught up, he saw a bicycle lying in the road and a man in biking gear spread-eagled between the tracks.
The rat leaped from the chair and ran to the door. Arlo watched him turn circles until it stopped and stared at him. “You tryin’ to tell me somethin’, King Oscar? You want out?”
He opened the door and watched King Oscar make a beeline for the house across the street. Then Arlo saw the burning curtains and flames licking the roof. He heard the hysterical cries of a woman and ran to investigate. He reached a side window and peered in. Through the smoke, he saw that the room was a kitchen. A beautiful kitchen with a yet undamaged microwave oven.
He smashed the window, crawled to the microwave, and headed home with it. While the screaming grew louder, he thanked his lucky stars for the thing he’d been really wanting.
#
Arlo and King Oscar became companions. They slept together and dined on microwaved foods that Arlo shoplifted. One evening while the food was heating, King Oscar sat transfixed on the oven: the numbers counting down and the smell of Cheez Whiz melting over Spam. But before the ding of the bell, King Oscar sprang for the door and began to spin.
“Somethin’ wrong, boy?” Arlo asked. He opened the door and the animal took off with Arlo in pursuit. Finally, King Oscar stopped at a railroad crossing. When Arlo caught up, he saw a bicycle lying in the road and a man in biking gear spread-eagled between the tracks.
The animal sat helplessly beside the moaning man, then it looked up the tracks at an oncoming locomotive headlight. The train’s whistle sounded and King Oscar waited for Arlo to act, but Arlo was checking the bike for damage.
“Dumb bastard musta flipped it on a rail,” Arlo said, lifting the bike with one arm. “Hey, this is one of them titanium bicycles. Gotta be worth a grand or more,” he muttered, riding away.
#
“You’re a goldmine to have around, King Oscar,” Arlo said, looking at the stack of cash he got for the bicycle. “You just let me know when there’s trouble and I’ll do the rest.” He took a hit from a glass pipe. “You just might be one of them Mexican spirits after all.”
King Oscar watched him, expressionless. When Arlo set out the paper plates of steaming macaroni and Cheez Whiz, the big rat left the room.
“Hey, I don’t like picky eaters, King Asshole!” Arlo yelled and tossed King Oscar’s dinner in the garbage. He ate and was about to relax in his easy chair when he was sure he saw something at the window. “How’d you get out there?” he said, tapping on the windowpane. When he raised it, Arlo’s 60-watt bulbs went off, and a dark shape entered.
The local TV news reported that the remains of a local man were discovered in an abandoned house after neighbors reported a foul odor. The medical examiner listed the cause of death as: “Cocaine and alcohol overdose. Deceased was subsequently cannibalized by rodents. Empty Cheese Whiz dispenser was extracted from the rectal cavity at autopsy.”
Ha ha! Readers love seeing characters get what they deserve....