Payroll by William James Johnson Chapter 4
The farm house Silky had rented wasn't really a house. It was more of a cottage. Originally built for the hired man, it was now the only structure of any size remaining on the land which had been abandoned during the dust bowl days of the thirties. He liked it, because its weather beaten, paintless exterior, like an unkempt country graveyard, sitting back from the road, was completely ignored. It was ideal for his secret activities. He had stapled clear plastic over the window openings and the sun, catching this uneven surface which had been stretched by the wind, gave the shambles the look of a groping blind beggar.
The exterior belied the comfort Silky had arranged for himself. Lacking electricity, he had to make do with an old fashioned kerosene lamp. A used propane fridge, and two burner stove came with the house. From the army supply section he signed out an air mattress and sleeping bag. To complete his one room ensemble, was a homemade table and two chairs, as grey as the cabin exterior. At least they were clean. Silky really liked things clean.
Behind his cottage, he had built a dog house for Sandy out of accumulated boards which probably belonged to the main house before it was destroyed by fire. Sandy stayed outside during the day, and spent the evenings inside with his new master.
Behind Sandy's house was a small wooden building, like a pine rough box standing on end, with a crescent moon in the door. The well was out in the front yard, always in sight of a weary passerby who might need a drink before continuing his journey.
As Silky turned his sports car into the long laneway, Sandy spotted him and ran out to meet him. This was their daily routine. For a guy like Silky, who had never had a real friend in his life, Sandy's daily greeting was a great ego builder. The dog ran beside the car until he stopped behind the old building, beside a beat up grey van. Grabbing an armful of groceries Silky pushed open the front door as Sandy darted past him. Waiting until he put his bags on the table, the dog's stubby tail wiggled so fast you could hardly see it. Then he jumped up and put his front paws on his master's shoulders.
"Okay...Okay. Down fellow. Did you have a good day?"
As he said this, Silky glanced out the back window and saw several new piles of earth where Sandy had been doing his favourite thing.
"Yes, I'd say you've had a good day. Wish to hell you'd get over that nasty habit. The yard's starting to look like an old Great War movie with all those mounds and holes."
Taking out a package of raw hamburg, Silky broke the seal with his fingernail, and rolled back the wrapping. Forming a small meatball of raw meat, he placed it carefully on the floor in front of Sandy. Patiently the dog eyed the morsel, waiting for Silky's command.
"Sandy!" He paused briefly. "Eat." The dog pounced on the meat and devoured it instantly. Silky patted his pal, and scratched him under the ears.
"Good boy Sandy. You're a great partner. Smarter than a lot of the guys I work with." He continued patting him on the head.
"And someday...soon, you're gonna make a lot of bucks for me."
He made another meatball, and repeated the routine. The dog would not move until he was given permission to eat the food. All those years of training had developed a highly disciplined creature.
"Sandy," pause. "Eat. You'd be great playing Simon says."
Kneeling beside his partner, he put his arm around the dog and hugged him warmly. Sandy loved this one on one. He had been trained to work this way when he was with the Drug Enforcement Agency.
Silky had never brought anyone to his humble farm house, because he didn't want anyone to see Sandy. Ever since he had spotted the weakness in the routine used to pick up the army payroll, his mind was focussed on one objective, and Sandy would be a key player in his plan.
Back at work, sitting alone in his office, Silky pulled out a ledger from his bottom desk drawer. He had labelled it "Operation Meatball". It was lunch time, and the office was empty. Opening the file cover, he studied the list he had been preparing. In the expense column were the following;
Expenses
Sandy $ 200.00
Farm Lease 500.00
Van 1100.00
Food for Sandy 100.00
Transportation 125.00
Total $ 2025.00
"This summer I'll make my move."
He often talked out loud to himself. When you live with a dog, a little out loud talking stops you from going nuts. That's of course, as long as no one hears you doing it.
Corporal Wayne Tilly returning from the mess hall stopped by Silky's office.
"Missed lunch again."
"Brought a sandwich. This way I can get in some extra reading instead of wasting my time with the guys."
"Thanks a lot anyway."
"Sorry Wayne...Didn't mean it that way."
"If you'd come over to the Corporal's Club you would've seen the terrific decorations for tonight's St. Patrick's bash. You are coming I hope?"
"I don't think so."
"Why not?" You're gonna miss a great party."
"I'm not much of a party man. Besides I don't drink."
"So what. No one says you gotta drink. There'll be busloads of hot little honeys just dying for our bodies. Last year was terrific. Why don't you come?"
"I've never learned to dance either."
"Christ. I've never met a guy like you. Got an excuse for everything. Maybe the guys are right. Maybe you're queer."
"Why would they such a thing?"
"It's the way you act...you know. Never stay around after work and have a beer with the guys. You know stuff like that. Where do you go all the time anyway?"
"It's none of their damn business"
"Take it from me Silky, the Captain doesn't like it much either. He's a great team player. He can screw you if he thinks you're not real Army."
Silky was getting annoyed at his friend's pressuring him.
"Screw the Captain then. As long as I do my job right, they got no reason to complain."
Tilly realized he had been pushing too hard.
"Easy now old buddy. Don't get snarly with me...Seriously Silky, where do you go all the time?"
"Promise not to spread it all around."
Tilly crossed his heart and pretended to spit. "So help me God."
"Studying. That's what I do with all my spare time. I'm taking university courses by mail...Believe me it's no picnic."
"Why would you do that? You're a corporal for Chrissake...a clerk accountant."
"I know, and I can't see myself doing this for the rest of my life..Be different, if I could run the show."
That takes years. And besides, you need a commission for that."
"I know. That's why I'm working my buns off. I want to get into OCS. This is the only way I know how."
"That's the hard way Silky."
"What other way is there?"
"That old stand by in the Army..Getting that little brown ring around your nose...suck up to the Captain."
"No way. I'm going to do it my way, or not at all."
Tilly was growing impatient with his friend.
"Jeezus you're up tight. Do yourself a favour and come to the party. The Captain'll be there and the CO. Even if you don't stay...at least put in an appearance."
"Maybe you're right. What have I got to lose."
"Now you're talkin'. And I promise, I'll line you up with a real sweetheart. Anyone who can't make it with Rona, is either lazy or dead."
"You got a nice way of putting things."
"It's true. This chick'll help you get your rocks off."
"Whatever that means?"
"Sometimes I think you're just puttin' me on."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't think you're the Simon pure you pretend to be."
"Okay...okay. I said I'd come, and I will."
"You damn right. Rona is a specialist in the coming department. If I wasn't such a good friend, I'd keep her for myself. But a guy's gotta share it, know what I mean?"
"You're a good guy Wayne."
"Damn right."
There was a chill in the air as Silky arrived at the Corporal's club. Most of the late winter snow had disappeared, and only those small piles under wooded areas still remained. St. Patrick's was always a good excuse to have a party. Everyone pretended to be Irish for one night. Green and white bunting covered all the tables and streamers floated lazily over the small orchestra at the front of the mess hall. Made up of servicemen, the music was always better in the first two hours of the party than at the end. The men in the band liked their beer too, and the audience didn't notice the lowering musical quality as the evening went on.
Wearing a blue blazer and grey flannels, Silky looked like a prepy from a private boy's school. His plastered hair shone in the green and white dots which bounced off the revolving globe suspended in the centre of the ceiling. He wasn't sure if he should fold his arms, or stick his hands into his pockets. This was the reason he avoided these affairs.
Standing with two nice looking girls was his friend Wayne Tilly, talking a blue streak. Silky didn't want to interrupt them, but waiting alone was awkward.
"Hey Silky. Come on over."
As he moved towards them, he realized he was swinging his arms like he did on parade. He wondered how most people do things like this with so much ease.
"Here she is. This is Rona, and my girl Beth. Ladies, I'd like you to meet my working buddy Silky."
"Silky? What kinda name is that?" asked Rona.
"It's really Stanislaus Zylkowski."
"Sounds Polish...You Polish?"
"My parents came from Poland during the depression."
"That's nice...I ain't got nothin' against Polacks...My cousin married one. Real weird guy. You weird?"
Tilly decided he better change the course of this conversation before Silky just turned and left.
"What'd I tell you. Aren't they nice girls Silky? You two get along now. Me and Beth got some catchin' up to do."
With that, Tilly and Beth glided away from them.
"You're kinda cute. Wayne told me he'd get me a nice guy."
"Thanks. You're nice too."
"Can't say I'm wild about your hair. Doesn't do much for you."
"Always had it this way."
"I like brush cuts on you guys...Makes you look like you're ready for action...know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I tried it once. My hair is too fine. Wouldn't stand up. I looked like a freshly hatched chick."
"Like to see that. Bet I could make it stand up."
"Yeah, I bet you could...Listen Rona, do you work or something?"
"Both...I'm a waitress at the Hangout Café, and once in awhile I get lucky, and get a little somethin' on the side...if you know what I mean."
"That's on the highway outside of Garry."
"That's it...a greasy spoon kinda joint, but the food is good...I mean really good. Get a lot of truckers."
"I've never been in it."
"Hey, we gonna just small talk all night?"
"I'm sorry..."
"Well let's dance...do something, Holy Crow."
"I'm not much of a dancer...only polka and waltz. Comes with the nationality."
"Forget it...I'm not gonna jump all over the friggin' place like a crazed Polack. Let's drink instead."
Silky led her to the bar and ordered a couple of drinks, then they went to one of the tables and sat down.
"What the hell is that you're drinkin'?"
"Coke."
"Coke! You mean you don't drink either?"
"Fraid so. Tilly calls me the original Simon pure. That's me. Look if you'd rather be with someone else, I'd be glad to..."
"Hell no. I don't give up that easy. Let's go out and see the garden."
"Whatever turns you on."
"There you're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"I like the way you talk, and you really are cute."
As they left the mess hall, Wayne waved behind Beth's back, giving Silky a thumb's up signal.
"You sure aren't like the guys I usually meet here."
"In what way?"
"By now, most of them would be all over me. You ain't tried anything yet." This embarrassed Silky.
"Well...I don't...that is, I mean, I never..."
"You don't what? Holy Crow...Don't tell me you're a virgin?"
Turning away Silky replied," I guess you could say so."
"Well you either are, or you ain't."
"I'm sorry Rona...I am."
"Holy Crow ...a virgin. I never met one before. Honest."
"Like I said, the original Simon pure."
"Jeezus! Hard to believe. No dancing, no drinking, no making out. What kinda Army is this anyway?"
"I'm sorry Rona...I..."
"Would you stop saying your sorry all the time. It's gonna be all right...really. We'll go on the bus before anyone else thinks of it. You'll love it. Better than drinking or dancing. And besides, it'll be a first for both of us."
View the summary of William James Johnson's other novels at www.wordclix.com
The exterior belied the comfort Silky had arranged for himself. Lacking electricity, he had to make do with an old fashioned kerosene lamp. A used propane fridge, and two burner stove came with the house. From the army supply section he signed out an air mattress and sleeping bag. To complete his one room ensemble, was a homemade table and two chairs, as grey as the cabin exterior. At least they were clean. Silky really liked things clean.
Behind his cottage, he had built a dog house for Sandy out of accumulated boards which probably belonged to the main house before it was destroyed by fire. Sandy stayed outside during the day, and spent the evenings inside with his new master.
Behind Sandy's house was a small wooden building, like a pine rough box standing on end, with a crescent moon in the door. The well was out in the front yard, always in sight of a weary passerby who might need a drink before continuing his journey.
As Silky turned his sports car into the long laneway, Sandy spotted him and ran out to meet him. This was their daily routine. For a guy like Silky, who had never had a real friend in his life, Sandy's daily greeting was a great ego builder. The dog ran beside the car until he stopped behind the old building, beside a beat up grey van. Grabbing an armful of groceries Silky pushed open the front door as Sandy darted past him. Waiting until he put his bags on the table, the dog's stubby tail wiggled so fast you could hardly see it. Then he jumped up and put his front paws on his master's shoulders.
"Okay...Okay. Down fellow. Did you have a good day?"
As he said this, Silky glanced out the back window and saw several new piles of earth where Sandy had been doing his favourite thing.
"Yes, I'd say you've had a good day. Wish to hell you'd get over that nasty habit. The yard's starting to look like an old Great War movie with all those mounds and holes."
Taking out a package of raw hamburg, Silky broke the seal with his fingernail, and rolled back the wrapping. Forming a small meatball of raw meat, he placed it carefully on the floor in front of Sandy. Patiently the dog eyed the morsel, waiting for Silky's command.
"Sandy!" He paused briefly. "Eat." The dog pounced on the meat and devoured it instantly. Silky patted his pal, and scratched him under the ears.
"Good boy Sandy. You're a great partner. Smarter than a lot of the guys I work with." He continued patting him on the head.
"And someday...soon, you're gonna make a lot of bucks for me."
He made another meatball, and repeated the routine. The dog would not move until he was given permission to eat the food. All those years of training had developed a highly disciplined creature.
"Sandy," pause. "Eat. You'd be great playing Simon says."
Kneeling beside his partner, he put his arm around the dog and hugged him warmly. Sandy loved this one on one. He had been trained to work this way when he was with the Drug Enforcement Agency.
Silky had never brought anyone to his humble farm house, because he didn't want anyone to see Sandy. Ever since he had spotted the weakness in the routine used to pick up the army payroll, his mind was focussed on one objective, and Sandy would be a key player in his plan.
Back at work, sitting alone in his office, Silky pulled out a ledger from his bottom desk drawer. He had labelled it "Operation Meatball". It was lunch time, and the office was empty. Opening the file cover, he studied the list he had been preparing. In the expense column were the following;
Expenses
Sandy $ 200.00
Farm Lease 500.00
Van 1100.00
Food for Sandy 100.00
Transportation 125.00
Total $ 2025.00
"This summer I'll make my move."
He often talked out loud to himself. When you live with a dog, a little out loud talking stops you from going nuts. That's of course, as long as no one hears you doing it.
Corporal Wayne Tilly returning from the mess hall stopped by Silky's office.
"Missed lunch again."
"Brought a sandwich. This way I can get in some extra reading instead of wasting my time with the guys."
"Thanks a lot anyway."
"Sorry Wayne...Didn't mean it that way."
"If you'd come over to the Corporal's Club you would've seen the terrific decorations for tonight's St. Patrick's bash. You are coming I hope?"
"I don't think so."
"Why not?" You're gonna miss a great party."
"I'm not much of a party man. Besides I don't drink."
"So what. No one says you gotta drink. There'll be busloads of hot little honeys just dying for our bodies. Last year was terrific. Why don't you come?"
"I've never learned to dance either."
"Christ. I've never met a guy like you. Got an excuse for everything. Maybe the guys are right. Maybe you're queer."
"Why would they such a thing?"
"It's the way you act...you know. Never stay around after work and have a beer with the guys. You know stuff like that. Where do you go all the time anyway?"
"It's none of their damn business"
"Take it from me Silky, the Captain doesn't like it much either. He's a great team player. He can screw you if he thinks you're not real Army."
Silky was getting annoyed at his friend's pressuring him.
"Screw the Captain then. As long as I do my job right, they got no reason to complain."
Tilly realized he had been pushing too hard.
"Easy now old buddy. Don't get snarly with me...Seriously Silky, where do you go all the time?"
"Promise not to spread it all around."
Tilly crossed his heart and pretended to spit. "So help me God."
"Studying. That's what I do with all my spare time. I'm taking university courses by mail...Believe me it's no picnic."
"Why would you do that? You're a corporal for Chrissake...a clerk accountant."
"I know, and I can't see myself doing this for the rest of my life..Be different, if I could run the show."
That takes years. And besides, you need a commission for that."
"I know. That's why I'm working my buns off. I want to get into OCS. This is the only way I know how."
"That's the hard way Silky."
"What other way is there?"
"That old stand by in the Army..Getting that little brown ring around your nose...suck up to the Captain."
"No way. I'm going to do it my way, or not at all."
Tilly was growing impatient with his friend.
"Jeezus you're up tight. Do yourself a favour and come to the party. The Captain'll be there and the CO. Even if you don't stay...at least put in an appearance."
"Maybe you're right. What have I got to lose."
"Now you're talkin'. And I promise, I'll line you up with a real sweetheart. Anyone who can't make it with Rona, is either lazy or dead."
"You got a nice way of putting things."
"It's true. This chick'll help you get your rocks off."
"Whatever that means?"
"Sometimes I think you're just puttin' me on."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't think you're the Simon pure you pretend to be."
"Okay...okay. I said I'd come, and I will."
"You damn right. Rona is a specialist in the coming department. If I wasn't such a good friend, I'd keep her for myself. But a guy's gotta share it, know what I mean?"
"You're a good guy Wayne."
"Damn right."
There was a chill in the air as Silky arrived at the Corporal's club. Most of the late winter snow had disappeared, and only those small piles under wooded areas still remained. St. Patrick's was always a good excuse to have a party. Everyone pretended to be Irish for one night. Green and white bunting covered all the tables and streamers floated lazily over the small orchestra at the front of the mess hall. Made up of servicemen, the music was always better in the first two hours of the party than at the end. The men in the band liked their beer too, and the audience didn't notice the lowering musical quality as the evening went on.
Wearing a blue blazer and grey flannels, Silky looked like a prepy from a private boy's school. His plastered hair shone in the green and white dots which bounced off the revolving globe suspended in the centre of the ceiling. He wasn't sure if he should fold his arms, or stick his hands into his pockets. This was the reason he avoided these affairs.
Standing with two nice looking girls was his friend Wayne Tilly, talking a blue streak. Silky didn't want to interrupt them, but waiting alone was awkward.
"Hey Silky. Come on over."
As he moved towards them, he realized he was swinging his arms like he did on parade. He wondered how most people do things like this with so much ease.
"Here she is. This is Rona, and my girl Beth. Ladies, I'd like you to meet my working buddy Silky."
"Silky? What kinda name is that?" asked Rona.
"It's really Stanislaus Zylkowski."
"Sounds Polish...You Polish?"
"My parents came from Poland during the depression."
"That's nice...I ain't got nothin' against Polacks...My cousin married one. Real weird guy. You weird?"
Tilly decided he better change the course of this conversation before Silky just turned and left.
"What'd I tell you. Aren't they nice girls Silky? You two get along now. Me and Beth got some catchin' up to do."
With that, Tilly and Beth glided away from them.
"You're kinda cute. Wayne told me he'd get me a nice guy."
"Thanks. You're nice too."
"Can't say I'm wild about your hair. Doesn't do much for you."
"Always had it this way."
"I like brush cuts on you guys...Makes you look like you're ready for action...know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I tried it once. My hair is too fine. Wouldn't stand up. I looked like a freshly hatched chick."
"Like to see that. Bet I could make it stand up."
"Yeah, I bet you could...Listen Rona, do you work or something?"
"Both...I'm a waitress at the Hangout Café, and once in awhile I get lucky, and get a little somethin' on the side...if you know what I mean."
"That's on the highway outside of Garry."
"That's it...a greasy spoon kinda joint, but the food is good...I mean really good. Get a lot of truckers."
"I've never been in it."
"Hey, we gonna just small talk all night?"
"I'm sorry..."
"Well let's dance...do something, Holy Crow."
"I'm not much of a dancer...only polka and waltz. Comes with the nationality."
"Forget it...I'm not gonna jump all over the friggin' place like a crazed Polack. Let's drink instead."
Silky led her to the bar and ordered a couple of drinks, then they went to one of the tables and sat down.
"What the hell is that you're drinkin'?"
"Coke."
"Coke! You mean you don't drink either?"
"Fraid so. Tilly calls me the original Simon pure. That's me. Look if you'd rather be with someone else, I'd be glad to..."
"Hell no. I don't give up that easy. Let's go out and see the garden."
"Whatever turns you on."
"There you're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"I like the way you talk, and you really are cute."
As they left the mess hall, Wayne waved behind Beth's back, giving Silky a thumb's up signal.
"You sure aren't like the guys I usually meet here."
"In what way?"
"By now, most of them would be all over me. You ain't tried anything yet." This embarrassed Silky.
"Well...I don't...that is, I mean, I never..."
"You don't what? Holy Crow...Don't tell me you're a virgin?"
Turning away Silky replied," I guess you could say so."
"Well you either are, or you ain't."
"I'm sorry Rona...I am."
"Holy Crow ...a virgin. I never met one before. Honest."
"Like I said, the original Simon pure."
"Jeezus! Hard to believe. No dancing, no drinking, no making out. What kinda Army is this anyway?"
"I'm sorry Rona...I..."
"Would you stop saying your sorry all the time. It's gonna be all right...really. We'll go on the bus before anyone else thinks of it. You'll love it. Better than drinking or dancing. And besides, it'll be a first for both of us."
View the summary of William James Johnson's other novels at www.wordclix.com
posted by William Johnson | 8:13 a.m.
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