Thunder and Lightening
Chapter 11
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

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 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 from 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 it 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 busted 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.







