Vampires on Acid

It was hot in the black monte Carlo, they had stopped to fill up on gas in Erwin, Tennessee. The April sun shone in through the windshield, Waylon took his shirt off and placed it on the dashboard to keep it from cracking, he had a black bandana tied around his head and blue jean cut offs on with his Birkenstock sandals she had bought him at Belk. The dog was panting in the back. Waylon took the top off his drink and handed it back to Lucky, the white bulldog lapped up the cold tea and laid back down in the back seat. Waylon put the lid back on the drink and threw it out of the window into the open trash can at the gas pump. He reached up and pulled the sun visor down and looked at the polaroid he had stuck on the inside beside the mirror. He grinned at the pretty blonde girl. Although, she wasn’t smiling in the photo, he knew how her face lit up when she was happy and he and imagined he was making her laugh. The driver’s door opened and a guy in a tie dye tshirt with his red hair in a long ponytail got in and threw a pack of spirits in the black box and a Dr Enuf in his lap “That’s cold, man” he grabbed the drink off his balls and flipped off his friend muttering ‘fucker’.

“Stop looking at that”. Andy reached over and slammed the visor back up. Waylon sulked as he lit his American spirit. He untwisted the cap on his drink and watched the bubbles swirl to the top creating the appearance of smoke. “The first sip is the best”. He said to Andy as he turned the bottle back and finished half in one swallow.

“You want me to drive?” He asked Andy. They were traveling from Johnson City, Tennessee to see the Grateful Dead play in Atlanta. Waylon had three sheets of acid to sell, laid with a purple image of Jesus with a crown of thorns. Waylon also had an eight ball for himself. “Nah, I’ll get us over the mountain, and you can take over from there” Andy replied with an unlit cigarette balancing on his lower lip.

Waylon rolled down the windows and blew the cigarette smoke out, he threw the pink lighter at Andy. Waylon always got a pink one, he figured not may dudes would want to take a pink lighter and therefore it was less likely to get stolen.

Andy started the engine, and the car shook them both in their seats. Waylon never got tired of the low rumble of a Chevy engine. He had traded the black Monte Carlo for 2 lbs of weed at the beginning of the year in mid-February. He saw the car and thought how good the girl in the picture would look riding shotgun with him driving. She only rode in it once. Waylon was happy with the trade regardless. He got off on speeding down the long stretches of the back river roads that ran beside the Nolichucky River, he lived off one of them, the driveway was hidden a row of five large Oak Trees and the yard was never mowed, so no one ever bothered to think anyone lived there. If a person did see where tires had laid the grass down and decided to follow it all the way back to the white farmhouse, they still might not guess it was inhabited. The white paint was peeling off the wood and the porch post on the front left was held up by two cinder blocks under it. Ivy that grew in the trees surrounding the house had climbed up the outside walls of the house and even into the windows on the front porch. There was a blind donkey that lived on the property, Waylon always made sure to keep his hooves trimmed, he hated to see animals suffer. The two-story white farmhouse that belonged to his grandparents still had a potbelly wood burning stove that Waylon used to cook and warm the house in the winter. There was no central heat and air, just a fireplace and the stove in the winter and fans in the windows in the summer. When she first came to his house, he had scared her making jokes and she had run off down the road, she quickly turned around realizing that she was in the middle of nowhere and was stuck. When she walked slowly back to the house, he was waiting on the porch for her. She quietly sat down and looked at her bare feet, just then a wolf spider ran across her foot, she screamed, and his dog ran after the spider and gobbled it up and then walked over to her, leaning against her, reassuring her that she was in no harm.

He had fucked her all night, she had the prettiest pussy he had ever seen. Her little button was hidden under her soft blonde pussy hair and between her little pussy lips. Waylon found it though and he licked and sucked on it until he was sure she came. She was crying and laughing, he figured she liked it. Waylon could stay hard for hours, and he fucked her in all the ways he liked. He turned her around and slid his cock into her pink wetness, he gave her a couple of hard smacks on her firm small ass and left his hand marks on both her ass cheeks, that made him laugh. Then he sat her down on top of him and held her hips as he pushed her back and forth on his cock, while he squeezed her little titties. Waylon flipped her over and held her hands above her head while covering her mouth with his other hand as he fucked her on her back with her legs spread wide. Waylon took a break and let her sleep as long as it had took him to drive to the Dollar General for more smokes and a soda, when he got back, she was still asleep, and he woke her up with his hard cock in her mouth.

Waylon sighed from the memory and felt himself getting hard. He adjusted himself and took a long drag off his cigarette.

He looked back at his dog curled up on the back seat, “I’m guessing you don’t need to piss.” The white pit bull wagged the tip of his tail and laid his ears back. The rumbling motor unsettled him. Waylon reached back and scratched his square head. He mouthed “I love you” to the dog.

They pulled out of the gas station and Andy put his fist toward Waylon, “Hey, gimme a bump”. Waylon dug into his cut offs and pulled out a baggie. He unknotted the plastic and placed some of the white powder on the back of Andy’s hand near his thumb. Andy snorted it and turned up the radio. Waylon had already done a bump while Andy was paying for the gas, he did another one though and lit another cigarette. “Girl, you taught me how to hurt real bad and cry myself to sleep, you showed me how this town can shatter dreams.”, Waylon sang along with the Dwight Yoakam song on the radio. He laughed and spit a loogy out the window onto the oncoming car’s windshield. The car braked, Andy looked in the rear-view mirror and muttered “Come on, I dare ya”. Waylon leaned out the window and flipped them off. The other car sped up and got on down the road. Andy and Waylon sang at the top of their lungs, “Yeah, my guitars, Cadillac’s, hillbilly music is the only thing that keeps me hanging on.” They laughed and laughed, Lucky snorted at them and stuck his head out the window to breath in the quick smells whizzing by his nose on the road.

Waylon opened a semi cold Miller High Life he brought from the house and pulled the visor down and Andy shook his head at him. “Shut the fuck up, man”. Waylon told him. He looked up at her and remembered the smell of sandalwood on her neck. He reminded himself to get some on the lot to take back to her. He reached up to touch the photo and closed it back.

They traveled in silence the rest of the way except for the radio playing the country gold hits. It was the only station they could get that didn’t have static. Andy liked to ride up on peoples bumper in the left lane and flash his lights at them until they pulled into the right lane, which is where they should be if they weren’t passing. If they didn’t pull over, he passed them on the right while Waylon flipped them off and spit on their car as they passed. Andy and Waylon were always looking for a fight, or a least some kind of attention.

Three hours and countless cars harassed later they stopped at Waylon’s grandmothers house in NC. The small town of Franklin had a downtown with a few businesses, a bank, the courthouse, a diner and a beauty salon. The town added a bowling alley last year. He knew he would find Granny at the diner, “Hey man, Im gonna stay here and chill’. Andy said. Waylon knew he wanted to get high. “I thought you didn’t have anything.” Waylon looked at him. “Just enough for me, you don’t like this shit anyway”. Andy peered at Waylon with pursed his lips. “Nah, I don’t”. Waylon didn’t like needle dope, he tried it once, he would rather go up than down.

Waylon left the car and Andy at the small brick house and walked his dog downtown to see Granny.

He was hungry. The coke had kept his hunger at bay, now, three hours later he needed another beer, more coke or a meal and sleep. He didn’t have time to sleep so he did another bump and stopped to let his dog piss and shit. Waylon always had a plastic bag for his dog’s poop. He really hated when people didn’t clean up after their dogs. He picked up the warm shit with the bag, told his dog ‘good boy’, threw the bag in the trash and turned the corner to down town Fanklin, NC. The diner was busy and Waylon stood at the large glass window looking for Granny. He saw the small woman dressed in men’s clothes wearing a grey fedora. He stared at her until she stopped drinking her coffee, looked up and met his eyes. She cocked her head to the right and placed her left hand on her hip. Waylon saw her mouth “Lord have mercy”. He laughed and made a motion for her to get him a drink. She waved her hands yes.

A few minutes passed and she came out with a large, sweet tea with extra lemon. ‘You not hungry?’ she asked him as she handed Waylon his tea. ‘Nah’. He tore the end of the straw off and blew the paper in her face. “In the name of God, Waylon, stop it.” The paper landed on her square in the face.

“He’s excited to see you”. Waylon nodded down at the smiling pit bull looking up at Granny. “Well, I’m just as excited to see him”. Granny replied reaching down to scratch his white ears. “He’s a good boy”. She cooed at him. The dog wagged his tail low and nibbled on Granny’s hand. He remembered she had fed him fried chicken livers last time they met.

“Whars she at?” Granny asked. Waylon had brough her to see Granny at Thanksgiving.

“Not here.” Waylon said sharply.

“Humph”. Granny frowned

“Well, Whirya headed?” Granny asked

“Atlanta”. Waylon said.

“Why in the hell are you agoin thar?” Granny raised her eyes at him.

“See the Grateful Dead” He raised his left eyebrow back at her.

“That same band ya always go see.” Granny stated.

“Yup”. Waylon said through the straw, he had poked it through one of the lemon wedges to get the most out of the flavor.

“Well, whatcha waunt?” she asked him with both her hands on her hips.

Waylon laughed, “A hug”.

Granny smelled like freshly ground coffee and cinnamon.

Waylon loved his Granny more than anyone. Well, everyone except her. Waylon and Granny walked back to her house with Lucky dragging his leash. He kept trotting ahead, stopping and looking back. Waylon walked with his arm around Grannys shoulder as they talked about her garden and what was doing good this year. “Maters and squash has taken over the garden”. She told him. When they got to her house, Andy was passed out on the couch on the front porch. Lucky went up to him and licked his face until he woke up. “That that same boy?” Granny asked Waylon. “Yup, same asshole he was last time you met him.” Andy stood up and gave Granny a hug. “Let me get in here and let me git yuns some food for the road, Waylon you and your friend git the hose and water the garden, we ain’t had no rain.” Lucky followed Granny in the house in the hopes for more chicken livers as Andy and Waylon went to the back of the house to pull the water hose out to the garden. “Waylon, get the maters real good at tha roots and don’t let the hose squish the beans.” She yelled out the kitchen window. Andy held the hose as Waylon sprayed the ½ acre garden. Granny had planted corn, beans, squash, okra, peppers and tomatoes with rows of potatoes and onions. When Waylon was a boy, he spent his summers with Granny and they had all their suppers straight from the garden. Andy rolled the hose back up when they were done. Waylon had sprayed him with the water as he was watering the corn and laughed when Andy yelled at him to stop.

They walked in the back and the screen door slammed behind them. Lucky was in the kitchen with granny, his big head in a white casserole dish eating leftover meatloaf wagging his tail. . Waylon stopped to look at the photos that hung on the dark wooden walls. Granny’s husband had a radio show, and he played the fiddle. There was a photo of his Papaw and some other men playing around a microphone with the letters, NCCB, the wall. The show was called ‘The Carter Boys old time music hour’. Waylon barely remembered his Papaw; he was years older than Granny when they married, and he died when Waylon was just walkin. Granny always said she fell in love with the music he made, and he played for her every night, even the night he died. Granny had some recordins of The Carter Boys that she would play and then have to turn off due to the emotions that welled up in her whilst listening. Some man had come in from The Smithsonian wantin copies. Granny gave them to him, and Waylon reckoned they were somewhere at the capitol in a museum. Waylon pursed his lips and thought the next time The Grateful Dead played in D.C. he might try to find the museum. He took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen.

“Granny, you spoil him”, Waylon sat down at the table shaking his head at his dog. She had packed food in empty cool whip and butter containers and written the contents on masking tape on the lids. One container had ‘banana pudding’ written on it in her long cursive writing. Granny knew that was his favorite dessert. “Now, git that small cooler offen tha front porch, thars a frozen bag of pigs feet in the laundry room freezer that’ll keep everything cold and then give them feet to this big baby when they thaw”. She nodded her head to Lucky. Andy packed the food in the back of the car in the cooler and thanked granny. Waylon hugged her tight, he didn’t want to let go, he felt like he did when the end of summer came when he was little and he had to go back to his mom. She handed him some money folded up in her hand. “Granny, I don’t need this.” Waylon handed it back to her. Granny tilted her head and put the money back in her pocket.

Waylon looked at her and said, “You know its springtime, right?” Waylon teased her, Granny always wore long wool pants she bought in the men’s department of Sears, long sleeves and a fedora hat. She laughed and said, “You’re a dandy one”.

“Load up!” Waylon hollered at his dog. Lucky had been on the front porch on the cool wooden boards in the shade sleeping off the meatloaf. He slowly got up, walked over to granny and let her scratch his head. He snorted at her, nudged her hand with his head and walked to the car. Waylon started the engine and the three of them left. Waylon stared at Granny as long as he could in the rear-view mirror, she kept waving until she couldn’t see them anymore.

The drive from NC to ATL had been uneventful, Andy had given up on his road rage. They stopped once to piss and do more blow and Waylon let his dog out to shit after he filled the car up with stinky farts. “No more meatloaf for you, man.”’ Waylon laughed. Pit Bulls have the worst farts. Waylon had moved the picture of her safely in the glove box. He didn’t want to lose it with the windows down.

Rolling into downtown ATL the rumpling engine on the Monte Carlo slowed to a steady hum. The Grateful Dead had a three-day run at the Omni. April 1st,2,& 3, 1990. Waylon could feel the excitement and high vibes of the people gathered. “We’re gonna make some money Andy, I can feel the party”. Waylon said as he showed his arm to Andy, “I’ve got fucking goose bumps!” Andy looked at his arm and slapped the shift out of it. “What the fuck, man!” Waylon laughed at him and held his arm to his chest. “That’s gonna leave a mark.” Waylon lit a cigarette and smiled.