David C. Childers

Here comes the gasoline truck. It is yellow with a red stripe and the word JONES in black letters on the stripe running through the middle of the big tank on the back. The truck stops and a man with a dildo strapped under his chin so that the phallus sticks up into the air like a Christmas tree gets out and runs into the middle of the street. A big, pussle-gutted man, he runs from one side of the street to the other like a scared bird. He is stopping traffic. Soon a police car drives up and stops. Two policemen grab the man and lead him to the car. Inside the car are two other policemen dressed in business suits. The man with the dildo sticking up from his head looks into their eyes and their mirror sunglasses show him how silly he looks. This, and the photographs the men in business suits are showing him make him cry like a baby. The photographs are of a woman with no clothes on. She is lying in a
dark place with her legs drawn up into her torso like a fetus. Her skin is
milky white in contrast to her dark, dark face. A pair of blue/black hose are tied tightly around her neck. The man looks at the hose and knows how they got there. One of the men wearing a business suit rips the dildo off of the man's head and curses. Now the man just looks like a big, fat man crying. The police car is yellow and sleek as it cuts through traffic. The other man in a business suit is reading a list of alternatives, his voice dry and monotonous. The big, fat man mumbles yes. What does that mean, asks the man holding the dildo. I don't know, says the fat man. That's what I figured, says the man holding the dildo. By now someone has come from JONES and taken back the yellow truck with the big red stripe and the word JONES through the middle of the tank on the back.


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