Thunder and Lightening: Chapter 11Home « Thunder and Lightening Index « Previous

- Chapter 11

Posted: November 24, 2004 - 12:56:26 pm

Jerry slowly eased the engine block back into the engine compartment of the

Camaro, pleased with how easily the repair had gone with Martin helping him.

Crawling under the car, he tightened the motor mounts. The hard part of the

repair was done. Next weekend, he would start working on putting the rest of the

engine together. Crawling out from under the car, he looked up at Martin. With a

grin, he said, "Since you and I both have tomorrow off, we'll do your engine

tomorrow if that's okay with you."

"Sounds great to me," replied Martin amazed at what he had learned over the

course of the day. All of the parts that they sold out of the store started

making sense to him. He had heard people say that the rings on their car were

shot, but now he knew what they were, where they were located, and what it meant

when someone said they were shot.

"Good, I'll pickup my son tomorrow and he can help us as well."

"Getting along with him?" asked Martin.

Standing up from the ground, Jerry looked around for a rag. At the moment, he

was angry with himself for throwing away all of the clothes that had been left

in the house. They'd have made great rags for use when working on the car.

Finding the scrap of cloth that he had used earlier, he started to wipe his

hands off. Looking over at Martin, he said, "Yeah. To tell the truth, I met him

for the first time last week, too."

"Huh? I know you lived with the kid. What do you mean that you'd never met your

son before?" asked Martin. He had made the call to invite the son the meet Jerry

at the mall.

"We lived in the same house for thirteen years, but had never really talked

until last week," answered Jerry clarifying his previous answer. He wondered if

he was ever going to have a chance to actually sit down and talk to his

daughter. It was actually doubtful since Bill had said that she was just like

her mother. There was no reason for her to even want to know her father.

Martin shrugged and said, "I don't know who my father is. Even though you didn't

talk, at least he knew who you were."

There was some truth to that, but the question was the difference between who he

was and how his wife presented him in the house. "I don't know if he knew me

when I lived there. My wife never said anything nice about me. As far as she was

concerned, I was a loser and no better than white trash."

"That's harsh," replied Martin. If Jerry was the manager of the store and that

meant he was a loser, what did working for him make everyone else in the store?

"What did she want that you didn't give her?"

"A new car every year, membership in country clubs, a house in the Hampton's,

and God only knows what else," snorted Jerry. The woman had never worked a day

in her life and had a very twisted sense of reality. Looking up, he said, "She

figures that an average working man makes half a million a year."

"Shit, she should come here sometime," Martin joked as he looked around the

neighborhood. He added, "I think if you took all of the money everyone in this

area makes and put it in a pot, you wouldn't come anywhere near that fuckin'

amount."

There was probably a great deal of truth in that statement. A third of the

neighborhood was on social security while a half of them were working menial

jobs. It was hard to say what the final sixth of the neighborhood did for money

although prostitution and drugs were not that uncommon. "You might be right. I

don't know how much money the people around here earn. I do know that it is

barely enough to cover the basics."

Shaking his head, Martin said, "It's not that bad. We have kids who wear shoes

that cost a hundred and fifty dollars. I'm sure you've noticed all of the gold

chains people wear around here."

Jerry threw the rag over to Martin so that he could wipe his hands and get the

majority of the grease off his hands. Martin started wiping his hands as Jerry

said, "I guess a lot of people confuse their wants and needs. How come you

aren't wearing expensive shoes or gold chains?"

"Mom."

Laughing aloud, Jerry said, "She doesn't look that tough to me."

"You ain't had her washin' your mouth out with soap for swearing," rebuked

Martin.

"Hell, you and your brother swear more than I do," replied Jerry surprised at

the revelation.

"Bullshit. You've never heard either one of us take the Lord's name in vain,"

replied Martin as he looked at Jerry as though challenging him to say otherwise.

The comment made him realize that people had different ideas about what it meant

to swear. The vulgar language used in this neighborhood was viewed as color,

intended to make their statements more interesting and flamboyant. "That's

true."

Martin looked down at the engine seeing it in a totally different way than he

had the day before. The day before, it had been just a hunk of metal. Now, it

was a machine that produced power according to principles that he understood. It

was as though someone had cast a magic spell, changing him, the car or both.

Looking at the grease on his hands, he wondered if the spell couldn't have been

a little cleaner.

Announcing his presence with the little whir of the scooter, Abe rode into the

yard, coming to a stop by the car. He looked at the two adults standing by the

car and asked, "You done for the day?"

"Yes, we are. What's up, little brother?"

"Mom wanted to know if you two were interested in eating dinner anytime soon?"

Since Abe had gotten the scooter, it was if the guy had forgotten to walk. Jerry

asked, "You drove from your house to here, just to ask that?"

"Fuck no, I'm on my way to the store to pick up some greens," replied Abe with a

grin at the suggestion.

"When will dinner be ready?" asked Martin.

"It'll be 'bout an hour after I get back for the store. She just wanted to know

whether to cook for three or four," answered Abe with a smile at Jerry.

Puzzled, Jerry asked, "What's with the smile?"

"She said that you had nothin' in your kitchen when she checked out your house.

Figured you needed some real down home cookin'."

Grinning, Martin teased, "Giving my Momma a tour of your house? You dog!"

"Oh, come on guys. She came over looking for Abe."

The two brothers shook their heads at the obvious discomfort being exhibited by

Jerry. Martin said, "He's got a whole string of women trying to feed him.

There's that pretty little lady that came into the store Tuesday. Now he's got

Momma trying to feed him."

"It's that skinny-assed body of his, all skin and bones. They all figured he's

so skinny they just have to feed him."

Jerry looked at the two young Blacks with amusement. No one had ever called him

skinny before and he doubted that anyone would ever again. Shaking his head, he

said, "I'll come. Let me clean up before I come over there."

"Oh no! He's gonna get clean before comin' over. Must want to impress Momma!"

The teasing tone in Abe's voice let everyone know that he wasn't serious.

Despite having wiped his hands on the rag, his hands still retained a little of

the grease and oil on them. Smiling, he held out his hands towards Abe as though

he was going to wipe them off on his face. Laughing, he said, "I'll just clean

my hands off on you!"

Abe backed up laughing and elbowed his brother. His brother held out his dirty

hands and said, "I'm next!"

Running off, Abe returned to his scooter and drove off shouting over his

shoulder, "You have to catch me first."

Jerry laughed as his young neighbor drove off and waved him away as though he

was too much trouble. Martin had watched Jerry interact with his brother and

asked, "You really do like him, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," replied Jerry without hesitation. He looked down at his grotesque

dirty hands and added, "He's a good kid. I hope that we can keep him out of

trouble."

The idea that some white guy would actually care about his little brother really

surprised Martin. He never thought that whites would even bother to learn

anything about a Black, much less actually like one. Blacks had to learn about

Whites and had to pretend to like them, as that was the only way that a Black

could succeed around Whites. At least, that is what many of the kids he had

grown up with had said.

It never occurred to him that there could be real feelings between the races.

The weird thing was that he liked Jerry despite the fact that he was white and

his boss. Jerry didn't act like the proverbial 'The Man' who was trying to keep

him down. As far as he could tell, Jerry was helping him learn the job and

worked beside him the whole time.

His thoughts were interrupted when Jerry broke the silence. "I better start

cleaning up."

Martin looked down at his own hands and replied, "Yeah, same here. Better change

my clothes too. These are pretty dirty."

"I told you to wear old clothes that you wouldn't mind having to throw them out

when we are done."

"Shit, I pulled these out of the trash can," replied Martin with a laugh. The

statement wasn't far from the truth.

"Wear them tomorrow because looking at that motor, you're going to get a lot

dirtier working on that engine," commented Jerry as he looked at the motor. The

oil had been sitting in it for a long time and they were going to have to work

to clean out the residue.

"Sure thing. I'll see you in about an hour."

"Right," replied Jerry as he went into his house.

The cool air in the house was a shock to his system after a long day working in

the hot humid outdoors. His clothes were damp from sweat and the cool air

chilled him. As he walked towards the empty bedroom, he unbuttoned his shirt

removing it about the time that he reached the door. Tossing his shirt on the

floor, he finished undressing in the empty bedroom leaving his clothes in a pile

on the floor. They would be dry by the time he put them on again the next

morning. Walking naked out of the bedroom, he headed into the bathroom to scrub

the dirt off his hands and then wash the sweat off his body.

Intending to ask him to bring some drinks over to go with the dinner, Sharon

stared through the window at his naked body. She had known that he had hairy

arms, but his naked body was still a shock to her. His hair was so thick on his

back that it looked like a rug rather than a human back. The hair continued on

down his legs, thick like fur. Blushing in embarrassment, she returned to the

house forgetting her errand.

Jerry scrubbed his hands with a stiff brush and lots of soap working the grease

out from the cracks and crevices formed by the calluses. It seemed like he was

wearing the bristles off the brush rather than removing the grease, but in time

his hands had become clean.

Satisfied with the result, he turned on the shower spinning both knobs wide

open. There was only cold water since the hot water heater in the house didn't

work. He rushed under the water braced for the shock. It took a minute for him

to acclimate to the water temperature. Lathering up, he looked down at his cock

seeing that it had shrunk under the assault of the frigid water. He knew that

the situation would only get worse when winter came, the water and the house

would be much colder.

The shower was as short as possible while allowing him to get clean. He turned

off the water and stepped out onto the towel that he had used the day before,

hair and body still wet. The towel absorbed the water that dripped off him as he

reached for a clean towel. He scrubbed his body with the towel, leaving the hair

on his body damp. It was impossible to dry off completely with that much hair on

his body.

Letting his hair air dry, he wandered through the house. Stopping in the

kitchen, he pulled a soft drink out of the kitchen to replace the fluids lost

sweating. As he drank half of it in one large gulp, he realized that he should

probably take something over with him when he went to dinner. Normally, one took

wine over to give to the hostess, but he didn't know if that would be

appropriate with the two boys unable to drink it. He decided that he would go to

the store and buy some soft drinks. At least he knew what the boys liked and

assumed that their mother would like the same.

The trip to the store ate up the time from when he finished washing to when he

was supposed to arrive next door. He had gone to the local convenience store and

faced the normal long line of people. The fact that he couldn't understand the

man behind the counter didn't bother him nearly as much as once did. It was just

another poor slob trying to do the best he could to get by in a tough world.

Jerry knocked on the door carrying a sack containing six-pack of Pepsi, a

four-pack of wine coolers, and a cake. It seemed to him that this was a

reasonable compromise between showing up with wine for dinner and soft drinks

for the two boys. When Martin answered the door, he looked at the sack and said,

"I thought Mom didn't have a chance to tell you to bring drinks."

"I just figured it would be bad manners to show up empty handed," replied Jerry

totally unaware that Sharon had even considered coming over. He decided that she

must have come over while he was in the shower and he hadn't heard her knock on

the door.

"Come on in. We'll be eating soon."

Jerry came into the house. The house was very much like his, two bedrooms, a

living room, and a kitchen with room for a table. The living room was filled

with furniture; all of it well used but not in bad shape. Blankets covered any

worn spots. There was a large television and a nice stereo system with a large

number of CDs on a shelf next to it. If life is tough, it helps to have

entertainment in the house to take the edge off the worst times. He asked, "Do

you have cable?"

"Nah, Mom can't afford it," replied Martin as he considered contributing to the

bills now that he worked so that they could have cable.

"I can understand that. I can't even afford a television yet," remarked Jerry.

"Shit, you need a television? I can find one of those for you at way below

retail prices."

The television would be stolen merchandise; Jerry had no doubt about that.

Still, the idea of getting something in the house that would give him something

to do beside stare at the wall at night was attractive. Shaking his head, Jerry

replied, "I don't think I could live with myself if I were to buy a stolen

television."

"Fuck," swore Martin perturbed that Jerry would assume that it would be a stolen

television. He asked, "Why in the hell not?"

"If it belonged to someone else, then I'd feel really bad for the previous owner

since their home would have been violated by some thief. If it were stolen out

of a store, I'd feel bad for the storeowner who is just trying to earn a living

to feed his family. I'd feel bad no matter what."

Martin shook his head and said, "Maybe we can find one at a pawn shop. Would

that let you watch it in peace?"

"Yeah, I could watch it in peace," answered Jerry as he considered the idea of

purchasing a television from a pawnshop. He would never have thought it of

without the suggestion from Martin. Looking up at Martin, he smiled as he said,

"I would never have thought of going to a pawnshop for a television."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Shit, if you're gonna be poor then you had better start thinkin' like a poor

man," replied Martin looking at Jerry as if the man were a fool.

Ignoring the look that Martin was giving him, Jerry replied, "If you want to

stop being poor, you had better stop thinking like a poor man."

Sharon called them into the kitchen for dinner. Jerry carried his paper bag with

him and set it on the table. Looking over at Sharon, he said, "I brought some

drinks and a dessert. I hope that's okay."

The comment made Sharon blush, which if Jerry had not been looking at her he

would have missed. As it was, her reaction confused him. She recovered enough to

ask, "What did you get?"

"I brought soft drinks for Abe and Martin and wine coolers for you and I. While

I was at the store, I picked up a chocolate cake." He looked around at the two

boys and said, "I hope that is okay. I know they are both under the legal

drinking age."

"That's great. I haven't had a wine cooler in ages," replied Sharon surprised by

his considerate behavior and realized that she hadn't needed to go over to

request that he bring something over. That thought reminded her of what she had

seen through the window of his house.

The three men sat down around the table as Sharon brought out a wonderful pot

roast with carrots and potatoes. It was a real home cooked meal with meat that

fell apart under the fork. She had cooked up a pot of turnip greens complete

with strips of bacon. Jerry couldn't believe how good the meal tasted. He ate

with an appetite that befitted a man his size.

The dinner conversation flowed easily and with lots of joking on everyone's

part. Jerry drank a single wine cooler, fearing the loss of control that alcohol

could trigger. For Jerry, this was the first relaxed evening he had spent with

others in years. The rage had been pushed well into the background.

Returning home, Jerry was surprised to see the front door of his house wide

open. Entering it with great care to be quiet, he heard a noise from the room

where he stored his tools. Walking over to block the door, he saw the young man

that had talked about smoking grass as his future occupation. The kid was

bending down to pick up the toolbox. It was only thing of value in the entire

house.

Jerry cleared his throat as he positioned himself in the center of the door

knowing there was no way the kid could get past him. At the sound, the kid

turned and saw Jerry filling the doorway. A very real look of terror crossed his

face as he looked at Jerry seeing just how large the man actually was.

Frantically, he searched for something to use as a weapon. His hands fumbled

with latch on the toolbox seeking a hammer.

A scream of terror ripped through the night as Jerry walked over and picked the

kid up by his belt. Belt loops popped, not intended for the purpose of holding

up the full weight of the kid. Bent over at the waist, the kid thrashed around,

his arms and legs unable to connect with anything. Shaking him, Jerry bellowed,

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with you?"

The kid screamed, believing that he was going to get killed by this monster.

Jerry shook the kid, stressing the belt and rattling the kid even more. With

another bellow, he asked, "What the fuck am I supposed to do with you?"

As the kid screamed in terror, Jerry accidentally dropped him to the floor. The

kid bounced and then tried to scramble away. Jerry bent down and picked him up

using the belt again. His action was accompanied by another scream of terror. A

wet spot appeared on the pants of the kid as his bladder let loose.

Jerry carried the kid out of the bedroom and through the house. The kid's body

hit a couple of the walls leaving dents and scratches. Unsure what to do with

the kid, Jerry carried him to the porch. Standing there, he threw the kid into

the middle of the yard. As the kid rolled to a stop, Jerry shouted, "If I ever

see you anywhere near here, I'm going to turn you into a wet red spot."

The kid scrambled away from the yard, tripping over himself as he went. His body

was a mass of bruises, cuts, and scrapes. He was screaming even as he limped

away; an ankle twisted from one of the falls he had taken in his mad dash to

escape. Looking over his shoulder, all he could see was the mammoth outline of

the huge man illuminated from the rear by the light coming through the door. The

sight would give him nightmares.

The screams in the dark of the night had brought entire block outside to see

what was happening. A few of the old folks, dressed in night robes, stood on

their porches while the rest watched through their windows. The teenagers had

gathered at the edge of his property daring each other to help the kid. The

crowed watched the proceedings, shocked at how far Jerry had thrown the kid.

The other adults were gathered in their yards watching to see what the white man

would say next. At least he hadn't called the cops, as that would have been the

second worst thing he could have done. There was a lot of muttering as people

wondered what would be the long-term consequences of the white man's actions.

Abe, Martin, and Sharon came over and looked at Jerry standing on his porch

looking huge and dangerous. They had watched him throw the kid into the yard,

amazed at the demonstration of raw strength. Abe and Martin had seen him angry

once and that was etched in their minds forever. Looking over at him, they could

see that he wasn't angry. Kenny had been lucky, even though he probably didn't

think so at the moment.

Breathing heavily, Jerry was relieved that his rage hadn't gotten away from him.

Even without the rage, he realized that he could be a very dangerous person.

Looking around at his audience, he shouted, "Sorry folks. The show is over."

In light of all the things that could have gone wrong, Jerry had handled himself

well. Looking over at Jerry, Abe whispered, "At least you didn't call him a

nigger."

A shudder of anxiety went through Sharon as she said, "That would have been a

horrible mistake."

The comments brought a laugh of relief to Jerry as he looked over at the trio.

He said, "I didn't even think of that. All I saw was a stupid punk kid."

The trio relaxed a little, but looked around the block at some of the angry

faces hidden in the dark. Someone was going to say that Jerry had been too rough

on the kid and try to make an issue of it. They wouldn't appreciate the big man

hurting the kid even if he had broken into the house. Big white men were not

supposed to beat up young black kids. Jerry didn't care that he had been rough,

it was more important to him that he hadn't been murderous.

The Spencers returned to the house satisfied that there was nothing more to be

seen here. The family chatted quietly, wondering what was going to happen.

Martin wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of the man getting chased out of the

neighborhood. There was still a lot that he could learn from the man, including

automotive repair. Abe was prepared to defend his friend against the outrage of

the neighbors.

Turning his attention to the front door, Jerry inspected the damage caused by

the kid when he had broken into the house. He had kicked the door open and, in

the process, ruined the frame. It took him about twenty minutes to fix the

frame. It wasn't repaired completely, just enough to keep the door closed.

Examining his repair, he knew that he needed to get a deadbolt to secure it in

the future. Muttering to himself, he said, "I'll have to stop by a hardware

store tomorrow."

He went into the house and checked the door of the bedroom. The frame was broken

on it also. The interior door was much weaker than the other door. The kid had

just bust his way into the place without caring about any damage that he might

cause. Checking around the room, he was satisfied that the kid didn't get away

with any of his tools. Another twenty minutes was spent fixing the door.

Although it took time and effort to repair the damages, he appreciated the

chance to fill the evening with something to do. Living alone was a lot harder

than he had expected. The evenings were the worst time of day for him since

there was nothing for him to do. The inactivity caused the time to pass with a

slowness that was excruciating. Returning to the living room, he sat on the

futon and stared at the wall wondering what kind of project he could undertake

to fill his evenings.

He stood up and walked around the house looking at the overall condition of it.

The fact of the matter was that it should have been condemned as unfit for human

occupation. The floors bowed, the wallboard was rotten in places, there were

stains on the ceiling from where the roof leaked, and the appliances didn't

work. Having seen the house next door, he knew that this house wasn't unique in

terms of its condition.

It wasn't worth his money to fix this house to a great condition, but it was

worth his time to fix it enough to live in comfortably. He needed to put a

little sealant around the windows and doors to keep out the draft. Some weather

stripping would help keep the house a little warmer in the cold weather as well.

Thinking about it, he decided that would take him a couple of weeks of effort.

The last room he visited was the room where he stored his tools. He went over to

the closet and removed the stack of Polaroid pictures. As he held them in his

hand, he realized that every time he had tried to masturbate while looking at

them something had interrupted him.

He stripped out of his clothes, dropping them on the floor. Walking around the

house naked, he went into the bathroom carrying the pictures with him. Sitting

on the toilet seat, he flipped through the pictures one at a time. He took his

time to study each picture, appreciating the female form shown within the

pictures.

With each picture, his cock stood up more erect as he imagined that he was the

photographer and Sharon was the subject. His hand snaked down and started

pulling on his cock, but the calluses tended to be unpleasant. There wasn't any

lube in the house so he soaped up his hands and stood at the sink. He used the

strokes that assured that he would come in the fastest time possible. Eyes

closed, he imagined that Sharon was spread open in front of him.

His come shot out into the sink, leaving little rivulets of thick cream as it

ran down the curved sides. Soapy water dripped from the end of his cock into the

sink. The cool of the basin contrasted sharply with the heat of his hand around

his male member. The soap burned the hole at the end of his cock.

He opened his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror. It didn't matter if he

was fourteen or forty, he was still embarrassed and ashamed of masturbating.

Looking down at his cock, he saw that the last few spurts hadn't been strong

enough to make it into the sink. His hand was covered with globs of come.

Turning the tap to get a reasonable flow of, he washed his cock and hands. His

erection was subsiding, but it wasn't entirely gone. The cold water shrank his

member, leaving the head swollen and the shaft thin. It was always like that

after jacking off. Swirling water around the sink, he washed away the traces of

come. This was the part of masturbating that he hated, cleaning up afterwards.

In that respect, he felt like women must have it easier. Turning the tap, he

shut down the flow of water leaving the room quiet except for the sound of his

breathing. Using a bath towel, he dried off.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he walked around the house naked enjoying the

freedom of living alone. In the past, he always had to wear clothes around the

house. Before the kids were born, his wife thought that it was perverse to walk

around without clothes. She didn't undress in front of him and they only made

love in the dark. After the kids, the excuse was that it would harm the kids to

see him naked. He even had to wear pajamas in bed, just in case the kids came in

the bedroom.

Now he could walk around naked as much as he wanted. It wasn't that he was a

nudist, but there was something freeing about being undressed on occasion. With

nothing left to do, it was time for him to get to bed despite the early hour.

Unfolding the Futon, he spread a sheet over it and lay down.

Sleep didn't come immediately as his mind replayed the past week. It had its ups

and downs, but overall it was a good week. He hadn't broken anything when

possessed by his rage, had lunch with a pretty young lady, and had made real

progress on getting his car fixed. It could have been much worse.

Getting up in the morning, he headed to the bathroom for his morning piss. Seat

up, he stood at the toilet to drain his bladder. His piss shot out in two

directions and he struggled to get his stream under control. That was another

consequence of jacking off, his first piss afterwards went everywhere.

Looking down at the mess he made, he swore and went to get a mop. It took him a

few minutes to clean up the floor and a few more to put up the cleaning

supplies. He swore, "Damn, this morning isn't starting out good at all."

Going through the rest of his morning activities, it wasn't until he went to

brush his teeth that he noticed the stack of pictures on the sink. He grabbed

them and took them back to the closet thinking that it would be best if nobody

found them. It was almost a shame to get dressed, but he had a lot of work to do

that day.

This was Labor Day. Even though the auto parts store was closed, other stores

were open and running specials. One of the hardware stores was open early and he

decided that he would stop there to pick up some things before getting his son

from the mall. It was going to be a busy day.

Chapter 12Home - Top