From Game Warden Entertainment’s “The Movie”
This is a story about a group of lazy despicable worthless offensive human beings who tormented the good people of the local community. (I know, why don’t I tell you how I really feel about this group, Ha!)
Back to the story, none of this crew held a job. Each was reported to have some type of “disability” that prevented him from working but no one knew what their actual “disabilities” were. Even during the numerous times I was forced to be around this motley crew, I couldn’t distinguish any obvious disabilities they had other than their being worthless human beings. If these men did have a handicap, it sure didn’t affect their ability to go in and out of fast food restaurants and beer joints.
Over the years, we received many complaints on this repulsive group concerning their dastardly deeds. There were some days that the complaint calls on them came in several times a day. Yet, we could never seem to be in the right place at the right time. It was always so aggravating for me whenever I needed to investigate complaints on the group.
Whenever I interviewed them instead of giving a verbal response to my questions, they usually would just look at me and smile, no let me rephrase that, they would just look at me and give me a grimy smirk. It was “sooooooo” frustrating dealing with them; it really tried my patience and ability to remain professional.
The “Group” included four extremely large men who appeared never to bathe. This “Group” always seemed to be riding around in an old rusty beat up pink Buick. Whenever I stopped them in response to a complaint, I usually found the floor boards of their Buick knee deep in empty beer cans and fast food wrappers. No question about it, the individuals in this vehicle were as trashy as the vehicle itself. Their foul breath, bloodshot eyes, unkempt beards and food stained clothes would make a person gag. I have often wondered if their own mothers would claim them as being their sons.
But the personal hygiene of this group was just a part that which made them so disgusting. They had other personal attributes that made them more disgusting and offensive.
I found out when I was researching the background of this “crew” that they lived off numerous welfare programs. It was very upsetting to know that this lazy group was manipulating the social programs intended for the truly needy to support their worthless life style. I found out it was this same public assistance money that paid for most of their beer and the gasoline for them to drive around in the old Buick. I was told they had found ways to covert food stamps and other public assistance into cash.
It was also rumored that they would steal anything not nailed down and sell it later to get more beer money.
Still, the aspect of this group which was most upsetting was the way they treated animals and people. While being loathsome to any human they encountered, they were murderous to any animals that crossed their path. It seemed they loved ravishing the wildlife populations and yet would not hesitate to kill a person’s domestic animals if the conditions were right.
Almost everyone in the community had at least one personal horror story to tell about this group. As I stated earlier this offensive crew had been terrorizing the people in the local community for years. There were rumors that they had killed most of the children’s pets in a 60 square mile section of the county. Numerous dogs & cats had been found by their owners in their driveways seriously wounded or dead. Several of the children’s pet cats had even been found hanging attached to the family’s mailboxes by cords wrapped around their necks.
The above mentioned actions of the group were pale compared to how they treated a gentle soft spoken older lady who lived in the community. She lived alone and everyone referred to her as “Granny”.
This white haired lady was in her eighties and was the spitting image of how we all pictured a grandmother should look. She was a little over five feet tall and weighed a little less than 100 pounds. “Granny” usually wore her white hair pulled back in a bun. Her white hair framed the sweet smile she usually wore. “Granny” took great delight in the animals on her farm, especially the chickens and ducks that ran freely in her yard. But the real love of her life was a small collie dog she raised from a pup. That small collie dog was “Granny’s” daily companion.
“Granny” had lived her entire life on “the family farm”. The farm’s location on a quiet private back section of the county had for most of “Granny’s” life had been a Godsend. But her dream world had become a nightmare since this despicable group of men moved into the area.
It seems “Granny’s” farm was located in the center of their hang- out area. The location of “Granny’s” farm worked well for the “Group” because of it’s location on a state maintained gravel road. This gravel road ran through the middle of her 200 acre farm.
I remember talking with “Granny” several times at her residence about this “Human Trash”. She told me she had seen the “group” stop numerous times in the road and shoot and kill many different animals. She named pet cats, ducks, chickens as well as other types of animals like whitetail deer, skunks, groundhogs and many, so many opossums.
She continued, “They killed so many animals that I have actually lost count.”
She also told me, “That in the past if she came outside and said anything to this group, they would curse and threaten her with bodily harm. They even told her that if she ever called and turned them into the law she would be very sorry.”
They told her on one occasion that, “If she didn’t shut up and get back in the house, they were going to kill her and the rest of her animals, including her dog.”
Being fearful of these threats, she told me she could never testify against them because of what they threatened to do to her. Yet she was so upset with them she would at least call us. But the last time I answered a complaint at her house about the group she told me she would not call any more. They had threatened her again that day and she was fearful that this group would live up to their threats.
She said she just couldn’t take the chance and risk of losing the life of her dog. I told her I understood and wished her well and as I left her. As I drove away I was very angry and frustrated with this group.
I soon found out that most of the members of the community had also gotten to be like “Granny”. Most were too scared to call in a compliant against the group anymore. Thankfully there were still a couple of people in the neighborhood whose anger about this “group” overshadowed their fear of them and with their help these few neighbor’s kept us informed about the group’s ongoing travesties?
As I have stated, we kept getting complaints on the “Group” but could not acquire any hard evidence that would allow us to place charges against them. It seemed the few people who were mad enough to call us were never able to actually witness any of the vicious events. It appeared that unless we actually caught the “Group” in the act, we were not going to be able to take any action against them.
One of those upset neighbors who would still call in on the group lived a short distance down the road from “Granny”. This neighbor much like “Granny” also owned a nice farm. The first time I met this neighbor was the result of my responding to a compliant he had called into the sheriff’s office. It was on a Thursday afternoon in early September. He wanted to report that two of his specially bred ewes (sheep) had been shot and killed.
When I arrived at his farm I met him and his wife waiting for me in the hay field where the sheep carcasses laid. It was quite obvious that the sheep were killed by gun shots fired from the road. Since there was no deer season in at the time, therefore there was no reason for anyone to mistakenly think they were shooting a deer.
Even if the deer season had been in the sheep were close enough to the roadway that whoever shot them knew they were shooting sheep and not deer. We all had no doubts that the “groupâ” had killed these sheep.
He and his wife were understandably upset about the death of their two sheep. After years of crossbreeding they were so close to having that special breed of sheep they had worked so hard on. With the death of these two ewes, they will never know how this special breed of sheep would have turned out. These two ewes were the only females of their new stock.
In the deaths of their two sheep they had not only lost a goal reproducing an unequaled strain of wool, but most important they had lost two pets that they had grown to love.
As upsetting as it was for me to feel their sadness that day over the dead sheep, it was even more upsetting when weeks later I found out the “group” had bragged about killing those particular sheep. I was told they referred to the shooting of the ewes as shooting “fluffy” deer.
After the farmer and I finished talking about his dead sheep, he went on to tell me about some other loathsome troubles still being imposed upon “Granny” by this group. Sometime during our discussions he also told me that in addition to being a farmer, he was an emergency room doctor at the local hospital.
After experiencing these new accounts involving the “group”, I was even more determined to catch this load of crud. As time went on, nothing seem to work out to where I could obtain useable evidence against them. I vowed to myself that if I did catch them I would prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law. I wanted so badly for them to feel some sort of pain, pain like they were causing others in the community. (Note: It was not long after the time period of this story did law enforcement start using “decoy deer” to catch lawbreakers like this group in the act.)
A couple of months later on the Friday morning of the first week of deer season I received a radio message from the County Sheriff’s office. The dispatcher advised me that a hunter had been shot. The dispatcher also advised that the victim was presently in the emergency room of the local hospital.
I told the dispatcher that I was en route to the hospital to investigate. No further information was given to me at that time. We are required by law to investigate all hunting incidents.
Like most of you, when we receive a radio transmission like this, our curiosity is highly activated as we try to analyze the call. This day was no exception, I wondered:
“Was it someone, I knew?”
“How did it happen?”
“Was it a fatal incident?”
“Hopefully not,” I thought.
The thoughts were continuing to run through my head as I entered the parking lot that adjoins the Emergency Room entrance. As I exited my vehicle, I immediately noticed and recognized the beat up old rusty pink Buick in the hospital’s parking lot.
As I entered the emergency room, my focus immediately went to the unkempt hunks of the notorious road hunters spread out in the chairs of the waiting room.
I walked over to the “Admittance Window” and inquired about the gun shot victim. The nurse advised me that the victim had been brought in by the three men in the waiting room. They had told her that they had been deer hunting together when the victim was shot.
She also advised that the victim had been shot in the right buttock. The bullet had gone straight into the seat of his pants and exited the fleshy part of his buttock. I will be more discreet from here on when describing this part of his anatomy for the story.
Since this is such an awkward area of the body to talk about I will use the word “ham” instead of buttock, I know some of you are even thinking another descriptive word which is really crude, but I am in charge so we will use the word “ham” instead.
It had entered near the center of the “ham” and had gone all the way through the fleshy side of the “ham” exiting on the side of the leg. It had not hit any bone or arteries and was not considered a life threatening injury.
The “patient” at the present time was in examination room number one located down the hall. The doctor on call was treating him there.
I went over to the unscrupulous group and as I approached them I immediately realized that the leader of this infamous group was missing. My face lit up as I assumed he was the victim in examination room number one. It was hard for me not to smile as I subconsciously remembered all the heinous incidents the leader had been involved in. With these ongoing flashbacks, I saw his face clearly with its many smirks and could even hear some of the lies he told me while he was laughing.
Interrupting my own visual I asked, “What’s going on here guys?”
The three looked at each other, back at me, and then at each other. Without their leader, their mouthpiece, they weren’t sure how to respond.
I asked again in a little more detailed way but was actually a simpler way for them to answer, “Who got shot?”
“Earl,” Larry, the second in command answered.
I knew Larry was second in command because whenever I dealt with “Earl” Larry was always near him. Ready to jump and do whatever Earl wanted him to do. Larry was the only one Earl ever directly spoke to. Even then the interaction between Earl and Larry came only during times when Earl needed someone to confirm his lies.
The other reason Larry stood out to me was the fact that he weighed about 320 lbs. and had a slightly crossed left eye. He also appeared not to be very smart. But if you compared him to the other two in the group he was a rocket scientist.
I asked Larry more directly, “What happened to Earl?”
Larry thought a minute. Not used to doing much thinking and/or making important statements he wasn’t sure how to respond,”Well, I was moving my 30/30 (caliber) rifle and it just went off and the bullet hit Earl.”
Thoughts washed through my mind as I remembered what the Nurse had told me. She had reported they told her they were hunting deer and the victim had been shot in the right “HAM”. The bullet had gone in the middle and through the center of the “HAM” and exited on the side of the leg.
I thought, “How could it be possible for a person hunting with a rifle discharge the gun and strike another person straight into the b_tt, I mean “HAM”. If this did happened how did the bullet exit out the side of the leg without hitting a bone?”
Looking at Larry with my confused look, I asked, “Would you please start at the beginning and tell me what happened?”
If I had thought Larry had a confused look on his face earlier, you should have seen Larry’s face now. His crossed eye, crossed even more. I didn’t know at this point what really happened with Earl’s being shot but I knew it involved some type of illegal activity.
Larry tilted his head and started to tell the story again. I knew he was having trouble trying to respond to my question without giving away any incriminating information.
This is what I think was going on in Larry’s head at the time. I am sure he was thinking, “If I mess this up Earl is going to kill me.”
Because of his deep thinking, I think Larry’s brain actually locked up. He just stood there not moving with a dazed glassy far off look on his face.
After waiting for a minute or so I snapped my fingers in his face in attempt to get him out of his self-induced trance.
Larry’s eyes blinked and he stuttered but he continued, “Huh, oh, well, we all was deer hunting and I was going to shoot a deer. I raised the gun up to shoot the deer and the gun went off before I was ready to shoot and I shot Earl.”
This still didn’t answer how Earl got shot in the “ham” with the bullet exiting out the side of his leg. Knowing I needed more information to understand his statement, I asked, “Please explain to me, where you were and where were Earl and the deer?”
“Well, there was this deer.” as he pointed to his left “And I was bringing the gun up to shoot the deer when the gun went off and I shot Earl.” He replied.
“How did you shoot him, I mean, how did you shoot Earl in the “Ham”? (I actually said b_tt because of who I was dealing with, but you are reading “Ham” because I am still trying to show you that I have “some class”.
Ok, I heard you, (remember I said “some class”)
“I don’t know, the bullet went into the floor and bounced up and hit Earl in the b_tt, (he said b_tt because he has no class, so it reads b_tt.”) He replied.
“Bounced off of what floor?” I asked.
Without thinking he answered, “Well, the floor of the car of course.”
“You were hunting out of the car?” I asked.
Without thinking he said, “Yes! I mean, No! I mean, well we were driving down the road and Earl saw a deer. Earl stopped the car. I was sitting in the back seat behind him like I always do. He told me to shoot, uh; I mean he told me to look at the deer through the scope. I was bringing the 30/30 rifle up to look at the deer and I must’ve pulled the trigger. The gun went off and I shot down into the floorboard.”
He continued, “The bullet went through the floor of the car like it did last time.”
“I mean, the bullet didn’t do what I thought it did. The bullet went through the floor and must’ve hit some metal in the frame or something in the floor of the car.” He answered.
Continuing, “Next thing, I knew Earl was jumping up and down in the front seat. I never did see him move that fast before.”
“He would jump up and say, “Hot Da*#!!, then he would fall back in the seat on his b_tt , then whenever his b_tt hit the seat again, he would jump up and scream Hot Da*#!!, Hot Da*#!!.”
Larry added, “I never seen Earl act like that before and what a face he was making. We didn’t know why he was doing all that jumping and cussing but it was really funny. All of us were laughing, Earl was really funny when he jumped up and down and cussed.”
Continuing Larry said, “Earl didn’t act like that the last time the gun went off in the car.”
“So none of us knew what was going on with Earl until he screamed, “Hot Da*#!!, Hot Da*#!! It’s not funny you Da*#!! Fools, Larry you just shot me in the b_tt!” (He said b_tt because as I said, he also has no class, and he is soooo bad, it really, really reads b_tt.)
Larry kept reliving the story out loud for me, then his face got serious, “Earl got up on his knees on the front seat, he was facing the windshield, next thing I knew, he pulled his pants and underwear down. He then told me to look at his b_ttt and see how bad he was shot?”
“I didn’t, I mean I really didn’t want to see his b_tt,” Larry added. This was the first thing that Larry had said in his whole life that I have no doubts was completely honest.
With a sick look on my face, I told him, “I know I wouldn’t want to see Earl’s “Hams” in all of their glory either.”
“Ughhhhhhhhh. What a visual! As I imagined looking at Earls bare bottom. Horrible, Ahahahahahahahahha get out of mind, get out of mind, please, please get out of my mind,” I thought.
Let’s move on quickly with the story, I mean very quickly!
Watching the anguish on Larry’s face, he continued, “I looked at his b_tt, best that I could, I remember seeing a small round bullet hole and a little blood coming out and then my mind went dark. I don’t remember anything else after I saw his naked b_tt.”
Then he added, “Earl asked me; Did the bullet hit me?”
“How does it look?” “How bad is it?” “Can you fix it?”
“Can you put a bandage on it or should we go to the hospital and have the hospital do something?”
Larry continued, “Earl wasn’t too scared about his being shot until I told him that, it was so horrible and I couldn’t look at it anymore. I also told him that I couldn’t fix the bullet hole, the hospital would have to fix his b_tt.”
He then said that Earl passed out and fell like a glob on the seat with his naked b_tt sticking up in the air.
With the actual description of Earl’s wound that was given to me by the nurse earlier and now after listening to Larry’s description, I feel certain that Larry said it one way, but Earl took it another way.
Larry had said, “It’s so horrible I can’t look at it.”
But what Larry meant was, “It makes me feel sick to look at your naked b_tt, (shot or not shot) remember, Larry said b_tt, so it has to read b_tt”.
This is how I am sure Earl interpreted what Larry had said about his wound, instead of hearing “It’s so horrible I can’t look at it” he heard and this is the visual I think Earl developed in his head. “My gunshot wound is really bad and it’s gapped open, my guts are hanging out and I’m going to die.”
Second part of what Larry actually said was, “I can’t fix it, and the hospital will have to fix your b_tt.”
But what Larry really meant was, “I don’t want to touch your b_tt.” “When Earl came to, he told me to get in the front seat and drive him to the hospital.” Larry said.
Larry summed up the remaining facts of their departure and trip to the hospital. It was funny for me as my mind created the visual Larry depicted of Earl getting out of the front of the car with his pants down around his ankles and waddling to the back door, opening it and then crawling into the backseat. He said Earl scrunched into a pile on the back seat of the car. He laid his face on the seat and knelt on his knees with his naked b_tt sticking up in the air.
Larry continued, “When I shut the door, I could hardly get the door closed because his naked b_ttt was pressing against the door glass. After I finally put my weight against the door I got the door shut I got into the drivers seat and we came here to the hospital.”
I smiled as Larry added, as I drove off to come to the hospital, I heard Earl say; “I am going to die.” Larry added, “Then he got quiet. I think he passed out again.”
Larry ended with, “That’s the way we rode until we got here to the hospital.”
I thought to myself, can you imagine passing this car on the road and looking into the back seat of the car. What would you think if you saw Earl’s naked buttocks, I mean “Hams” pressed against the window glass?
First, let’s hope that no one saw this horrible scene as Larry drove to the hospital.
Secondly, if they did see Earl in his nakedness, hopefully they didn’t figure out what they were looking at. Let’s hope they thought they were just looking at the face of a very ugly Bulldog.
This was about all the visuals and thoughts I could take at this point. So I left the group and went down the hall to examination room number one. I pushed the door open slightly to see if “Earl” was indeed in there.
What I saw in the examination room was interesting to say the least. Inside the examination room I saw a man lying flat on his stomach on the examination table. He was naked from the waist down. The man on the examination table reminded me of what a half skinned walrus might look like if it were lying on an examination table.
The man on the table was surrounded by a doctor and two nurses who were standing around the table. They were dressed in hospital scrubs and all were outfitted with both surgical gloves and masks.
Since the doctor was facing the door, he saw me open the door and he glanced up in my direction. The doctor appeared to me as having just finished examining the patient. He looked down at the patient and then back up in my direction. Then with a nod of his head he acknowledged my presence and started pulling off his surgical gloves as he walked over to me at the door.
He recognized me before I did him. (Remember he had a surgical mask on) “How are you doing today Frank?” he asked.
Since I could see only his eyes, it took me a second to realize who I was talking to. He was the farmer/emergency room doctor whom I had met in September while investigating the illegal killing of his crossbred sheep.
He dropped his surgical mask and started to tell me about the gun shot victim. He reaffirmed what I had been told by the admitting nurse. “The wound was non-life threatening as the bullet had missed all bones and arteries and because the patient was so big, the fat had actually closed the wound up and he had not lost much blood. In fact he was just about ready to clean the wound.”
He summarized with, “I need to clean the wound and after that it should only take a couple of stitches to close the two small wounds. I should be done in a few minutes.”
He went on to say, “The worst part about treating this patient has been the smell of that guy’s body odor.”
He continued, “That’s why the nurses and I have surgical masks on, the masks are helping us deal with his body odor.”
I asked the doctor, “Do you know who your gunshot patient is?”
He replied, “No, not right off. I remember looking at his chart and saw his name but I don’t know him?”
I asked, “If I put him in an old rusty beat up pink Buick and told you he was the one involved with all the animal killings in your neighborhood including shooting your sheep would you then know who he was?”
When he heard this his eyes widen and he looked at me, then over to the examination table and back at me. I do not ever remember seeing such a look in anyone’s eyes before.
Then, I could see a very professional man get angry, very angry. The anger on the doctor’s face shone very clearly through his facial expressions and his eyes. Then the expression on his face went from anger to disbelief.
He asked me for confirmation, “So he is one of those guys who drives around in that pink Buick in our neighborhood and has been killing all our animals?”
I replied, “Yep!”
Because I didn’t think he could believe what he was hearing he quickly asked me again, “He is one of those bums who have killed all our animals and has been so mean to Granny”?
I answered, “Yep, not only is he one of the crud in the Buick; in fact he is the leader of that pack.”
I then told him something that I felt he needed to know, “I never told you this before but people have told me, the man on your examination table is the man who actually shot your sheep.”
He has told other people, “It was so funny when I shot the first sheep, it flew up into the air like a popped balloon and then rolled around like a chicken with its head cut off. He said it was so much fun to watch the first one that he immediately shot the other one. He said killing those two sheep was probably the most fun he has had killing any animal. He kept saying they flopped around like fluffy balloons loosing air.”
Now his eyes went from disbelief back to anger. Then I literally saw the proverbial light bulb go off in his head.
No, let me rephrase that, I could see the proverbial movie projector bulb go off in his eyes. It was rewinding and playing the pictures of the many horrible and atrocious acts the “Pink Buick Group” had done to him and his friends.
I could see great pain in his eyes as he replayed the pictures of dead pets, of crying children, of frightened “Granny” and finally the scene on his farm with Earl laughing over his prized sheep as they withered in their death agonies.
When the flsshback ended, he looked over at the examination table which held the stinking “Earl” lying on his belly.
With his eyes on Earl, he left me mumbling to himself.
He walked back over to the examination table. He again took a position on the opposite side of the examining table so he was facing me at the door.
As he put on fresh surgical mask and gloves, I heard him tell Earl in a professional matter of fact tone, “I need to clean and stitch your wound. There won’t be much difference in the amount of pain if I numb you with shots of Novocain or if I just go ahead and do what I need to in order to clean your wound.”
Then he quickly asked in a quiet voice, “Do you want me to go on and do what I need to do or give you some shots for pain first?”
Earl who was half asleep did not say anything as he just looked up with one eye open and grunted something that could be interpret as “go ahead” or it could have been a “quiet snore”. Either way he closed his eye retreating back to his nap on that comfortable examination table.
The doctor interpreted his response as “go ahead”. The doctor then without giving Earl any more time to respond picked up a round plastic brush. (It reminded me of a small baby bottle brush. It was round with many white bristles about an inch wide and three inches long. The bristles were attached to an 8 inch wire handle.)
Street Justice
He took the brush in his right hand and dipped it deep into a bottle of blue antiseptic. Bringing the dripping brush out of the antiseptic, he immediately stuck it into the opening of the wound on the cheek of Earl’s “ham”. (No doubt, Most of you would now like to call Earl and “his body part” the crude name, since you now know so much about Earl. But again, we won’t lower ourselves to that level.)
Like I said earlier, Earl was lying on his stomach, naked from the waist down. He was half asleep. He was enjoying lying on those clean sheets and having people baby him. It looked like he was deep in that relaxed, “Its time for my afternoon nap.”
That great feeling Earl was enjoying was about to change. The cleaning brush was like a start switch to the half asleep Earl. As the saturated antiseptic brush entered the small wound in Earl’s backside, the examination table exploded.
My first thoughts as I watched the moving glob of human flesh was that Earl’s movements looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
But as I watched the screaming and thrashing Earl trying to raise his fat self up on the table, it then looked like a very fat person doing a very, very bad pushup. He was pushing the front half of his body up with his arms all the while his legs and feet flat on the table were kicking wildly. The two nurses were holding him to keep him on the examination table.
Then as I watched more of Earl’s movements, I realized that his actions actually reminded me more of a large fat Walrus trying to scoot itself off the beach and back into the water.
Boy! Was he flailing? He was flailing around on the exam table like his “ham” was on fire. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!!!!
I’m sorry, but the human part of me actually was glad that he was indeed feeling pain.
As I looked at Earl flopping up and down, I could not help but remember all the nice people that he and his group had hurt and the countless innocent animals they had killed and tortured.
As the old saying goes, “You reap what you sow.”
Right now, “Doc” was sowing some well deserved seeds into Earl’s “ham” and Earl was reaping a much deserved harvest of pain and anguish.
Yep! Doc planted Earl’s sorry flesh numerous times that day with the dripping blue antiseptic brush.
Each time that a new planting took place; Earl would let out a catawampus howl and thrash even harder than the time before.
Let me report what I observed as the doctor cleaned Earl’s wounds with the antiseptic laden brush. As the brush entered Earl’s wound I have to say I saw several things happening simultaneously each time;
Earl on one hand would;
- Scream out “Hot Da*#!!
- Flop and kick
- Cry big teddy bear tears
Doc would in response to Earl’s actions would be:
- Push the antiseptic brush deeper into the wound with even greater precision and depth
- Smile a bigger smile than the last smile
All the while Doc was planting antiseptic in Earl he was mumbling, “This is for Granny, my sheep, Bobby’s dog, Susie’s cat,” after a while the names were coming so fast I could not differentiate one name from another.
After about five or six cleanings, I guess the Doctors professional conscience would not allow him to continue to disinfect Earl’s wound anymore. As he pulled out the brush for the last time, the thrashing Earl suddenly became a sobbing trembling mass of flesh on the table.
With great confidence, and a soothing voice the Doctor said to Earl, “Now that the cleaning of the wound is done, you should feel much better.”
Earl never responded to the doctor. But he wasn’t speechless, in fact he laid there repeating in hushed mumblings, Hot Da*#!!, Hot Da*#!!, Hot Da*#!!.
Well, I don’t know about how Earl felt about his treatment for his wound so far but I do know that the Doctor and I both felt much better since he had given Earl’s wound such a thorough cleaning.
It was almost as enjoyable for me to watch the doctor as he was finishing up treating Earl’s wounds. Now the doctor was smiling and humming a tune as he took out a new sharp needle and thread to sew up the small entry and exit wounds. I knew that things were about finished here in the examination room.
I needed to get back to work and finish the investigation that I was working on prior to receiving this gunshot call, so I waved goodbye to the doctor and as I closed the door he looked my way and smiled, all the while he was humming.
At the time I could not quite make out the name of the tune the doctor was humming as I left. I knew it was a familiar tune but with his surgical mask on I could not quite put my finger on the song’s name.
Not until, later when I was back on patrol did the name of the tune come to me. I was driving down a mountain road and I caught myself humming the same notes which I had heard the doctor humming earlier.
Then the words of the song seemed to come to me. Ole Mac, Ole Mac, Ole MacDonald had a farm, E, I, E, I, O and on that farm he had some sheep. Then I remembered the song’s name “Ole MacDonald had a farm” and I smiled.
Knowing the doctor was finishing the repairs to Earl’s injuries as I left, I felt sure he would be torn between being a human being and a medical professional fighting the urge to continue the “street justice” Earl was still due.
I thought to myself if the doctor wanted to continue “street justice” he could be devious and give Earl some more payback. He could sing “Ole MacDonald had a farm” and name all the animals that Earl and his group had tortured and devastated as he sewed. I can just picture the doctor singing the words as he put those final stitches into Earl’s wounds ever tugging the tread in each stitch in time with the song’s notes.
As I said earlier, we have all heard that a person reaps what he sows or in this case when a person messes with a Doctor that person reaps what the Doctor sews.
How fitting as I remembered how Earl thought it was so funny when the doctor’s sheep were thrashing around after he shot them.
That day in the hospital I wondered if Earl thought it was as funny as he thrashed around as the doctor treated his wounds.
Back to the story:
After leaving the examination room, I returned to the waiting room and advised Larry and his two buddies that Earl was doing just great and that I really thought the gunshot wound should heal nice and not get infected as the doctor had taken extra time and effort to clean the wound. I added that the doctor was finishing up with Earl and he should be released soon. I also informed him that I would be back in touch with him later in the week as I was going to charge him with “Reckless handling of a Firearm to endanger life, limb or property”.
Even though the “Reckless handling of a Firearm” was the only charge I was ever able to put on the “Group”, something other than Larry getting the summons changed them all.
I heard later that Earl got religion after he left the hospital that day. I feel certain on the way home and for many days afterward as Earl sat on his laurels he must have promised God that if he would take away the pain from his “HAM”, (he can say “HAM” now because he has changed and is a much better person) he would walk the straight and narrow. It seems he did turn his life around.
As we know our God is a forgiving God and he accepted Earl’s sincere request. There’s no doubt God did his part and took the pain out of Earl’s “ham” and Earl then followed up pledge to walk the straight and narrow. It is actually quite interesting how cleaning out Earl’s backside lead to the cleaning of Earl’s soul.
I am sure if the doctor had not gone to such great lengths to get Earl’s attention in the cleaning of the wound; I sincerely doubt that Earl and the group would have changed much if any of their ways.
So this reinforces the allegory that “God guides the surgeons hand”, in this case “God guided the doctors hand and scrub brush”.
I charged Larry for shooting Earl and he was fined and put on probation. It turned out that the probation was not needed because with Earl’s spiritual turn around Earl began to lead the group in the right direction.
Larry and the other two still follow Earl but instead of getting into trouble attend church with Earl on a regular basis.
That’s right they no longer violate the law, in fact they all now bathe, have jobs and I understand that their mothers even claim them now.
Can I get an “AMEN?”
And we all said,
“AMEN!!!”
