the Dirty Dozen - Chapter 48

   Over the next week, a number of interesting and unique things happened, that simply everyone found amusing. Several of Merry's "boys" from the outlaw biker bar, started coming and hanging around with Merry. At the camp. With cops, ex cops, ex military… all no problem. The original "all that skank's fault anyways" incident at the bar on night one? Had been long forgotten and went immediately into "RLB lore" on their website… an online compendium of history, humor, and whatnot that the group relished. Required reading for RLB "newbies" that just joined the site. How else is a new guy supposed to "get" all the little in jokes and innuendo talking online, after all.

   The "boys" ranged in size from "Skykid" size, to "little Robbie" size. The RLB blinky star members were amazed and had to dutifully admit… it hadn't gone like they would have guessed it could have went. The outlaw bikers were little different from all the other rednecks, they agreed.

   Everyone was sure Merry had handpicked the ones she thought were most sociable to "citizens", the ones legally able to handle guns and have fun with the RLB boys. After an off duty cop in the group had surreptitiously snapped phone pictures of serial numbers… later running them… he gave up. It was all good.

   Leaving their color vests, and their "working attitudes" with their loud bikes at home? They were just guys with a sense of humor, and an interest in guns… one cop in the group was heard to admit around the campfire late one night when the bikers weren't with them…

   "Get me another beer? And fuck it… it technically ain't against the law, to be a member of a biker gang. Lord knows a bunch of cops love Harley's too… if they're polite and have legally owned shotguns? I can't say shit about it… and the motherfuckers always bring BBQ out with 'em! Now Panic… we'll see about this whole setup, when Speedy gets back… and it's on you… I mean, if yer state cop buddy breaks his foot off in yer ass for this? All on you, you crazy Irish bastard… you are in charge, when Speedy ain't here, I heard him say that… whatever… just remember I said it, that being in charge, also means being responsible if anything happens."

   Someone else catcalled…

   "Yeah! And that something happening? Is gonna be Speedy!"

   Another voice piped up that night immediately after that point…

   "Guys? What exactly do we do if that even happens? Say Speedy is pissed, and Panic and him get into it and start rolling around the campfire. They'll be trying to strangle each other…"

   "Well… Rob's the sergeant at arms… fuck it, that's his call… Rob?"

   "Hmm. That's a tough one. Reminds me of the story the chief told me and Panic and Merry, in for donuts and coffee with the chief and that Steve night cop here. There was a call one weekend night, at a gas station… women brawling, cops called… now, the cops get there, and it's two very pregnant women, rolling around fist-fighting, knocking everything in the store off the shelves, beating the shit outta each other's pregnant ass…"

   Everyone laughed at the mental image… Rob agreed…

   "Yeah, it is hysterical, but, like Stevie the night cop on the call says… the fuck do you even try to do? He can't mace em, he can't beat em with the flashlight… he can't even pull his gun on them… can't so much as touch a pregnant woman rough, and can't even separate them, they're both in the family way. He cell phoned the chief for instructions? Chief said fuck it, what can you do. Stay out of it, let them work it out, and when it's over call an ambulance… nothing you can do."

   "So… Panic and Speedy are pregnant now? Oh, that's going on the website, I'm telling you that…"

   "No, you idiot… same situation though. Panic owns the website, he's our de facto leader… but, Speedy is butt buddies with the property owner, and until I know otherwise, you can read this on the website, it's posted up still… Speedy is in charge on site, and if he isn't on site? The property owner names Panic in charge. Now, if these two get into it? I'm like the poor cop called to watch two pregnant women duke it out… everyone expects me to do something, and I can't do shit… you can either go to sleep? Or watch and place bets… ain't no other options I see…"

   "Yeah… I know I'd sooner drink turpentine and go piss on a brush fire, as a better idea than trying to put my hands on an off duty state cop with a hair up his ass, drinking or not drinking."

   Bets were being kept track of, on a sheet in the bunk house on this situation. You could bet for or against Speedy having a positive or negative reaction to this situation when he finally returned for a look see. The winners of that half of the pool? Split the whole pool, minus adult beverages out of the pool money to celebrate the pool bet going off.

   Dollar a pick, enter as many dollars and picks either way as you wished. If Speedy neither approved nor disapproved, but didn't get mad? That was "no reaction either way" and the pool got split up and returned to both sides equally… everyone got their money back, minus adult beverages being purchased out of the pool, naturally.

   A side pool then developed after two days of the first one running and gaining picks right and left all day and night. The side pool, was only going off if the Speedy reaction was fairly judged to be "mad"… then his level of mad, was the pick.

   Level I… Speedy just laughed about it, and made fun of Panic, telling him a series of patented state cop 'you are an idiot' comments.

   Level II… Speedy yelled and complained up a storm, be that storm a mild spring rain, or a goddamned six pointed star of a tornado… but didn't put his hands on Panic over it.

   Level III… obviously, this was where Speedy put his hands on Panic over it, unable to control himself and his frustration level with his second in command on site. Whether Speedy just blew a gasket, or seemed to actually experience an apoplectic seizure, was immaterial.

   Once again, if Speedy's reaction was "nothing" or even "positive"? Adult beverages were once again bought out of the pool money, and all tips bought were evenly split back. One share per winning pick.

   Skykid had been named "official judge" to call the winning pool sides.

   The bikers were fascinated with shooting pump shotguns at thrown clay skeet disks. They had all purchased single shot, spring loaded throwers for the clay birds. Prospects, their probationary members… were called in to spend the day and night reloading and throwing the things. Several set up for different directions and angles.

   Now, when at first the outlaw biker bar started their new hobby of shooting thrown clay skeet disks? This did in fact cause a great initial level of consternation for the local residents, and then for the police who kept getting calls about "all the shooting" going on every weekend, at the "biker bar".

   The chief himself, and Stevie the off duty cop? Had to drive out there, and have a look see for themselves. The bikers were just drinking pitchers of beer, and had new members reloading the spring powered throwers, that really resembled a sort of gigantic mouse trap sort of mechanical arrangement. A line of them at a time laughing and trying to hit the clay disks launched up the hill behind their bar.

   They had asked the chief if they were doing anything illegal? The chief had to admit, it was basically a "hunting town" anyways. Now that he thought about it, why wouldn't any bar in the area, not be shooting clay birds anyhow. The chief and Steve the cop, actually watched long enough, that they shrugged and took a few shots themselves. Fuck it.

   It was rumored the chief didn't drink any beer during this lengthy "call" he was on, but that Steve, being off duty and all, was rumored to have had a pitcher of beer with the boys.

   When half the town complained that the chief hadn't "done anything" about the situation, the chief resorted to his usual dry wit.

   "This… is a state game lands, hunting town. Pure and simple. As weird as it may seem to you fucking busybodies, that don't go shooting ever, so you might not know? First of all? It's not illegal to wear brightly colored jackets and drive Harleys. That's just right off the bat."

   "Then? Quit bitching about drinking beer while shooting shotguns. I don't know how, and I don't know why? But, for some strange reason I can't fathom? All goddamned skeet range clubs, at least the ones I ever visited? They all serve beer to the skeet shooters. It's normal. Apparently, some asshole somewhere one day, decided that alcohol and firearms don't mix? Except when shooting shotguns at shit flying through the air."

   "Also? Quit asking me what I'm gonna do when someone gets shot. First off, it's if, not when. Then? If it does happen? I'm gonna call an ambulance, and recommend they get an attorney to handle the insurance company. That's a civil matter, and it's not my fucking problem. I don't do dick for slip and fall calls? That's just a glorified slip and fall call. A little more blood, sure… but it's a civil matter, not a matter of criminal law. I'm only licensed to pursue criminal actions. The civil matters? On your own, I won't even mace you. Have fun with the lawyers and civil court. I'm sure it's fun. I can't even legally break the party up the rest of that night, you call an ambulance and leave, all you can do. You don't shut the gas station down when someone slips and falls? Same thing here."

   "Now. We get to why doesn't the chief want to protect us poor town folks. Folks, I will arrest anyone who breaks any criminal laws normally, but, I can't arrest them before they do it. Then, we get around to the idea of how I like it? Well, to tell you the truth? And I'm probably gonna get called a flaming asshole for this, but it won't be the first time, so fuck it all anyways… here we go…"

   "I'm a cop. My whole career. Chicago? Now here. I have no idea what outlaw bikers even do. Now… if my local outlaw biker gang… is engaging in the exact same sports as the rest of this small town? And they're not… whatever I see them doing on TV movies? Well… I'm tickled fucking pink. Until they start breaking the law out there at that bar? I'll buy them the goddamned clay disks and boxes of 12 Guage ammunition, if they stay out of my hair…"

   "Now, we get around to last but certainly not least. Oh my god, all the drunken brawls out that place. Well? That's fucking rich, coming from anyone in this fucking town… drunken brawl calls there? Sure do got em."

   "Always over someone's girl, just about… goddamned pole hole calls, and if you all want me to start arresting my citizens, for drunken fist fights over your wives cheating and you're all fighting about it after drinking beer? I gotta do it to everybody, and we all know goddamn well, ain't nobody wants that shit to start. Those bikers get maced and sent home, just like all you darling citizens when you do it… quite frankly? The bikers give me less pole hole calls, than you upstanding citizens do…"

   "Goddammit, I ain't the sex police, you know. I don't know what the fuck anyone expects me to do, honest to god, it's like trying to police a junior high school, or some shit. So… grow up, put your big girl panties on, and pretty please with sugar on top? Quit calling 911 about it."

   The chief put a girly voice on…

   "Oh. My. GOD. There are gunshots. After dark. Every night now… over that goddamn biker bar! Cops won't do anything about it! Hmm!"

   "I mean, this is a hunting town, for Christ's sake! Everyone has a pistol! Everyone has a deer rifle! Everyone has a shotgun! If I were to start arresting every asshole, that cracked rounds off after dark? Drinking beer? Whole fucking towns gonna get locked up before months end. Go on, call me an asshole… and bring me another doughnut and let me drink my morning coffee in peace, will you? Christ almighty…"

   "Good sweet Christ… everyone expects me to arrest guys for wearing funny jackets… then their wives and daughters go out in public wearing what I swear to god, looks like see through underwear… and I ain't allowed to arrest them for that. Goddamn it, let some 80 yer old man go out to get the mail in his boxers, I'm expected to arrest him for exposing himself? Go fuck your self…"

   "Yeah, I know… your chief's an asshole… what else is new… just remember? I'm an off duty asshole, I ain't on duty for another twenty minutes… so, go run a stop sign while I'm still in here, and enjoy it, okay? For fuck's sake…"

   "And will you people quit calling 911 because you heard a Harley out in the woods? Once again, the deer trails out here? All of them have quad and side by side ruts on every turn… and you all goddamn know you're not allowed to do that, either. You people still do it though, don't you? Not to mention… I ain't allowed to set foot on the game lands! It's not my jurisdiction! I'll get arrested if I try to enforce anything in the woods!"

   "So go on, call the fish and game department! I don't care! Just don't be surprised that they either A, don't do anything because it's not an emergency, and B? Let's say they do come to check it out, and hide out and grab people riding off-road in the woods… gee… all you guys with the quads? All you guys with the family in side by sides every fucking weekend? Everyone's kids out on dirt bikes every day and night? Guess what, you geniuses, you're going to be the one's getting arrested. Use yer brain."

   "And it won't be me arresting you all? It'll be the state game guys, and I can't even get you off the hook for it. So, be careful what you wish for."

   "Yes, I already know I'm an asshole, we already established that. Can I just be an asshole with a coffee in one hand and a doughnut in the other, before I start work? Thanks. Go, run a stop sign, and laugh about it on social media."

   "No one's allowed to own a rooster inside city limits, you know how many cock a fucking doodle do's go off every sunrise? Every other house! But, I'm the asshole…"

   Panic and Rob spent several mornings, going over the supply shed up on the hill. Doing small construction work on it. Cutting some of the waist high grass on the hill, but, only in abbreviated lanes and swaths. Leaving most to remain still the hay-field it ever was before anyone started using it.

   This? Attracted less attention from the other RLB members than anything else that had been going on that no one understood exactly why.

   So… eventually at the very end of all this. When Merry and Panic started hanging out and sleeping in the renovated "tiny cabin" up on the hill behind the biker bar, every single night? It honestly raised no eyebrows, not a single one. Apparently, everyone and their uncle already knew Panic and Merry were fucking. As one RLB member around the campfire put it after midnight one night and the lovebirds had already retired for the night, to their new and tinier cabin?

   "If it does something for Merry to get fucked at the supply shed out behind the biker bar, and Panic likes to do it to her there? I mean, whatever… right?"

   Everyone agreed.

   "You know, the bikers are shooting skeet after dark, and they're safe up on the hill in that cement shed… It's probably got something to do, with it's like fireworks going off, while they're fucking, maybe. Only thing I can come up with, off the top of my head…"

   Everyone sat around the fire that night, sipping beer and wine, and had a brain trust on this line of reasoning. In the end, it didn't stand to logic, however…

   "No. See, the bikers are shooting skeet on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday afternoons and nights… Friday through Monday? They don't shoot skeet anymore. Now, follow the logic of this… if this was because of sex fireworks, like you think? Why do they go late to the cabin on shooting nights, and, go early to the cabin on non-shooting nights… so, that ain't it."

   It was agreed to readily, however… Panic and Merry were now spending every night sleeping in their new supply cabin. One guy said…

    "Maybe they installed a fucking trapeze there, who knows… none of my business…"