Pork chuck conspiracy

Pork chuck conspiracy

Pork Chunk conspiracy © 2010 Frankie Chocolate

(For Bobby Rauch. The original Smelbert Runner)

(If you like this story there are tons more here. You can also find a whole bunch of different books I’ve written right here. So, you’ve got a whole lot to enjoy. Check them out please. Thank you.)

Clem Robertson was not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. He was homeless. He smelled bad and scratched himself in places polite people never do but he was on to something.

What he was on to was Mabel Harris. Mabel was sitting there eating her pork chuck ice cream when it dawned on Robertson there was something odd about her—other than her looks that is.

Mabel was a young girl, maybe 16, maybe 18, definitely under 21. It’s so hard to know with girls. Mabel wore enough goth black eye liner for three girls, had ratty yellow hair, wore ripped and tattered floppy sweat shirts, granny glasses and down to her ankles full billowy hippy skirts. Her face usually had a smudge or two of dirt or grease on it.

What was odd, Clem thought was her choice of snacks. Pork chuck ice cream, I mean, come on, who ever east pork chuck ice cream. That’s what started his whole investigation.

Mabel, what’s with you?

Oh, hello Clem, how are you my friend?

There, that was odd two. Mabel looked like a train wreck but underneath her ratty appearance was a river of kindness. Curiouser and curiouser. He squinted his weak eyes at the girl and continued.

I’m fine Mabes. But what about you?

What about me? She asked in a lyrical voice.

To hear her voice was to hear songbirds and water laughing in a cool brook. Something was wrong, something didn’t fit with this picture but Clem being almost as dull as me just couldn’t put a finger on it.

And then there was the mustache. Mabes had this thick Groucho mustache. Wild and wooly, dark and unkempt, it hung from her upper lip like a woolly Babylonian caterpillar.

Mabel worked in the soup kitchen at the local rescue mission. Half the down and out guys in there would have fallen in love with her except for that mustache. It’s really hard to get close to a woman when she sprouts a better handle bar than you could. It sorta made the boys feel a little insecure, you know, question their manhood. Mabel’s kindness and charity almost made up for her ratty appearance and odd diet choices—almost.

One day, Clem, his curiosity getting the better of him approached Mabel when she had one or two scoops of pork chunk ice cream left in her bowl.

How can you eat that stuff Mabes?

It’s unbelievable Clem. Have you ever tried it?

No and I don’t intend to. No one in their right mind would eat that.

I do.

Yeah, see Mabes here’s the thing. See, I been thinking, you’re the nicest girl in here. Nobody is near as nice and kind and generous. But you’re also the oddest bird in here. You got a bird’s nest sitting on top of your head, you got black circles around your eyes that would make a raccoon blush and you wear the funkiest clothes I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen quite a few. There’s a dichotomy going on here that just doesn’t make sense.

I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, she said then flitted away.

Over her shoulder she called back, “that’s quiet a word, dichotomy Clem.

Yeah well I’m not what I seem either Mabel.

Then he looked down. There was a spoonful or two of ice cream melting in her bowl. Clem took the spoon, scooped up a test mouthful and shoveled er in. His eyes flew open and a look of wisdom and a growing understanding spread over his face.

* * *

Monday it was an overnight at the warming shelter in St. John’s Lutheran, Tuesday it was at the Pads Center in Glen Ellyn, and Thursday it was back to the soup kitchen for Clem and the other down and outers.

Mabel was there like she always was, serving sandwiches and mashed potatoes today. A Jay’s potato chip truck took a spill on the Dan Ryan Expressway and by the time they got all the spuds off the highway Jay’s decided to just donate the entire load to charity. Mix in a little garlic and butter and milk and you hardly even noticed the occasionally chuck of asphalt in there.

Clem, always one to err on the side of caution, took his teeth out, bowed his head and gave thanks for the meal and roadway he was about to receive. As he ate his meal he watched Mabel.

What if you were to fix her hair? What if you were to change her cloths? What if she were to lose that mustache? Mmm. If you were to do that she’d be tolerable. No, she’d be more than tolerable. She’d be down right decent. Mmm.

It all came undone a month later. It was raining really hard and all the homeless folks were dog tired and soaked to the bone when the mission finally opened their doors. It was so humid Mabel’s mustache drooped. Clem followed her outside after everyone was served. She was putting trash in the dumpster. When the awning back there, full of water suddenly collapsed. Whoosh, down came gallons of water soaking young Mabel. Then Clem saw her. The dirty face was washed clean. The grease and oil were gone, the ratty hair, which turned out to be a wig was gone. The mustache was gone. Before him stood a beautiful young woman looking like a drown rat.

Mabel, is that you? I hardly recognize you.

It’s me Clem.

You’re beautiful Mabel.

You think so, she said with a small worried laugh.

I know so but what I don’t know is why a girl as pretty as you would go out of her way to make herself look so very unattractive.

That was it. Mabel broke down and cried, her lovely wet shoulder rose and fell as she emptied her heart of its burden.

It’s the dream police Clem.

Those guys? What are you worried about…oh. Oh I get it. The king’s thugs who round up all the pretty girls for the contest.

Yeah, the contest no sane girl wants to win.

Win a date with the king. A night in heaven, followed by an eternity of cramped living quarters with three hundred other wretched girls and no chance to date Todd Hamilton or any other dream guy because I’m property of his royal slobness. Who wants a life like that?

I knew you weren’t what you seemed, said Clem.

How could you Clem. I covered my tracks.

It was the ice cream Mabel.

The ice cream? Oh yes. Now I remember…

You left a little in your bowl and I tasted it. Those were not pork chunks in there, those were ground up Skittles. You went out of your way to make people think you were eating something unclean. You’re Lebanese aren’t you?

Actually I’m Jewish. My Uncle Mort told me never to let anyone know my nationality.

Why is that?

I don’t know. He just said I should do it. I guess in time I’ll find out.

I got an idea, said Clem, what if your God want you to do something really big and he wants you to hide your Jewishess till then?

Come on Clem, I’m a 17 year old girl. Do you really think if I choose to be holy today that it’s really going to make any kind of a difference to anyone in the future? Next I suppose you’re gonna say I should let the dream police catch me.

Mabel, why do they call them the dream police?

Because you’re making the king’s dream come true.

Ah.

So Mabel and Clem sat on the edge of stoop near the garbage can. The rain let up and a block away on a loud speaker rolling van the dream police were calling out over their PA system. Step right up ladies. Win the chance of a lifetime. See the palace. See the Eunuchs, win the chance to become the next queen. Step right up.

The End.