The Past - Part 1 & 1/2

Ol' Joe Garner did it for the last time. His hands quick-tied behind his back, his chin slumped onto the squad car's roof-- red trickled and dripped down through his white beard. Eased back, the officers popped the door and slid the old man across the hard plastic backseat-- his rights read to him through the sliver-cracked window, Ol' Joe leaned back his head and stared off.



His wife, Juniper, was silent and did as she was told. When she ran inside screaming, the trailer door ajar, Ol' Joe had reason enough to stand up from his chair. It stayed peculiarly warm that August-- looking 'round the swinging door it hardly surprised Ol' Joe to see a black bear, full grown, tearing through the moose meat he'd left smoking over the fire pit. Hand on his belt-gun, Joe wheeled over to the weapon-chest. Tugging out his twelve gauge, Ol' Joe slid one sharp point slug in and chambered-- he pocketed some spares out of habit.

Brisk walking through the still open door, Ol' Joe shouldered his gun and strode across the dirt-yard. Without so much as a breath, Ol' Joe walked right over close and then blew 3/4 of solid steel through the animal's side-head. Spitting into the blood hole at his feet, Ol' Joe started to curse then stopped-- he'd come upon an idea.

Carl Black Elk over at the Native Furrier's owed him a favor-- now he'd pay out in full. Walking outta town two weeks later, Ol' Joe wore a tall black fur hat, a fine black fur wide-collar, black fur cuffed gloves and a pair of black fur-lined boots. There weren't finer clothes Ol' Joe had ever worn nor seen.

That winter it became clear to Ol' Joe-- he himself sure had some sense, and Juniper, certain, had enough sense to stay quiet-- then his shit-senseless daughter must have fallen from some other line of seed. Ol' Joe's daughter had run-off outta state years ago, settling in with one of the wife's shit-ass brothers in some East state. They'd sent his girl to some college. Now she'd sent a letter saying she's getting married to some senseless city-shit-- and Ol' Joe and Juniper were both invited, airplane tickets and all. That about did it. She, this daughter could run around all she wanted, but with all this talk she musta forgot what type a man her daddy was-- and Ol' Joe wasn't about to let any daughter forget that.

Ol' Joe went alone. And Ol' Joe wore his best. The plane finally landed in Concord, New Hampshire late the night before the ceremony. Eager to enjoy their rehearsal dinner in Manchester, the wedding party left a cousin to pick up the bride's estranged father. Ol' Joe held his wedding invitation-- UNH Chapel at 10AM-- in his black fur cuffed gloves. The cousin waited by his car, amid a line of cabs, outside the arrival gate. Ol' Joe took one look at this androgynous boy-man, cocking a pose leaned against the open car door. Joe pushed the boy with wood-iron fists into the car, slamming the door--Joe walked up and slid into a taxi.

Pulling onto UNH campus Ol' Joe saw quite a commotion going around. Half-dressed-till-naked kids pranced and rolled about painting each others' bare skin. Loud noise pounded outta speakers around them. Ol' Joe pulled off the TSA's restraints from his weapon-bag and slid into place his belt-gun.
The Cabbie was paid with perfect change.

Stepping onto the concrete rotunda with his black fur-lined boots, young eyes turned on Ol' Joe. Straightening his hat, pulling tight his gloves, flattening wide his collar-- Ol' Joe would look his best when he reminded that daughter what type of man her daddy was. But curious young feet slapped the concrete-- walking closer. They stared at him. Ol' Joe sneered at their painted nakedness and youth.
The kids started shaking their heads and getting indignant.

A girl stepped outta the bunch shouting

Hey Asshole, Fur is Murder

the girl arched underhand and a full tin of red paint slapped against Ol' Joe's tall black fur hat, his white bearded face and black fur collar. The painted crowd around the girl gasped.

Ol' Joe stared at that girl as though she were a bear.