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that?"
"One of your piller cases. For a trick-or-treat sack."
"Oh," Widow Case said stiffly, and she went to straightening up the coffee
table
and picking the ham and makings off the floor.
Preacher Judd saw that the sun was no longer visible. He walked over to a
window
and looked out. The tumble bug of night was even more blue-black now and the
moon was out, big as a dinner plate, and looking like it had gravy stains on
it.
"I think we've got to go now," he said. "We'll be back in a few hours, just
long
enough to run the houses around here."
"Whoa, whoa," Widow Case said. "Trick-or-treatin' I can go for, but I can't
let
my daughter go off with no strange man."
"I ain't strange. I'm a preacher."
"You strike me as an all right fella that wants to do things right, but I
still
can't let you take my daughter off without me going. People would talk."
Preacher Judd started to sweat. "I'll pay you some money to let me take her
on."
Widow Case stared at him. She had moved up close now and he could smell root
beer on her breath. Right then he knew what
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she'd done and he didn't like it any. It wasn't that he'd wanted it, but
somehow
it seemed dishonest to him that she swigged it without asking him. He thought
she was going to pour it out. He started to say as much when she spoke up.
"I don't like the sound of that none, you offering me money."
"I just want her for the night," he said, pulling Cinderella close to him.
"She'd have fun."
"I don't like the sound of that no better. Maybe you ain't as right thinking
as
I thought."
Widow Case took a step back and reached the butcher knife off the table and
pushed it at him. "I reckon you better just let go of her and run on out to
that
car of yours and take your ownself trick-or-treatin'. And without my piller
case."
"No ma'm, can't do that. I've come for Cindy and that's the thing God expects
of
me, and I'm going to do it. I got to do it. I didn't do my sister right and
she's burning in hell. I'm doing Cindy right. She said some of a prayer and
she's baptised. Anything happened to her, wouldn't be on my conscience."
Widow Case trembled a bit. Cinderella lifted up her ghostsuit with her free
hand
to look at herself, and Widow Case saw that she was naked as a jaybird
underneath.
"You let go of her arm right now, you pervert. And drop that piller case ...
Toss it on the couch would be better. It's clean."
He didn't do either.
Widow Case's teeth went together like a bear trap and made about as much
noise,
and she slashed at him with the knife.
He stepped back out of the way and let go of Cinderella, who suddenly let out
a
screech, broke and ran, started around the room yelling, "Wooooo, wooooo,
goats."
Preacher Judd hadn't moved quick enough, and the knife had cut through the
pillow case, his coat and shirt sleeve, but hadn't broke the skin.
When Widow Case saw her slashed pillow case fall to the floor, a fire went
through her. The same fire that went through Preacher Judd when he realized
his
J.C. Penney's suit coat which had cost him, with the pants, $39.95 on sale,
was
ruined.
They started circling one another, arms outstretched like
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wrestlers ready for the run together, and Widow Case had the advantage on
account of having the knife.
But she fell for Preacher Judd holding up his left hand and wigging two
fingers
like mule ears, and while she was looking at that, he hit her with a right
cross
and floored her. Her head hit the coffee table and the ham and fixings flew
up
again.
Preacher Judd jumped on top of her and held her knife hand down with one of
his,
while he picked up the ham with the other and hit her in the face with it,
but
the ham was so greasy it kept sliding off and he couldn't get a good blow in.
Finally he tossed the ham down and started wrestling the knife away from her
with both hands while she chewed on one of his forearms until he screamed.
Cinderella was still running about, going, "Wooooo, wooooo, goats," and when
she
ran by the SYLVANIA, her arm hit the foilwrapped rabbit ears and sent them
flying.
Preacher Judd finally got the knife away from Widow Case, cutting his hand
slightly in the process, and that made him mad. He stabbed her in the back as
she rolled out from under him and tried to run off on all fours. He got on
top
of her again, knocking her flat, and he tried to pull the knife out. He
pulled
and tugged, but it wouldn't come free. She was as strong as a cow and was
crawling across the floor and pulling him along as he hung tight to the
thick,
wooden butcher knife handle. Blood was boiling all over the place.
Out of the corner of his eye, Preacher Judd saw that his retard was going
wild,
flapping around in her ghost-suit like a fat dove, bouncing off walls and
tumbling over furniture. She wasn't making the ghost sounds now. She knew
something was up and she didn't like it.
"Now, now," he called to her as Widow Case dragged him across the floor,
yelling
all the while, "Bloody murder, I'm being kilt, bloody murder, bloody murder!"
"Shut up, gaddamnit" he yelled. Then, reflecting on his words, he turned his
face heavenward. "Forgive me my language, God." Then he said sweetly to
Cinderella, who was in complete bouncing distress, "Take it easy, honey.
Ain't
nothing wrong, not a thing."
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"Oh Lordy mercy, I'm being kilt!" Widow Case yelled.
"Die, you stupid old cow."
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