This a test

Finally they came to a clearing, a small plateau. A thick glade of pine trees and dense scrub almost surrounded them, except to their left, where there was the edge of a cliff that dropped steeply, 500 feet, to jagged rocks below. Ruddy noted the hazard and warned Butty, “Zbjkojj plntlz zukjx ncdq.” (“Stay away from big fall.”)

Ruddy and Layzee decided the clearing was a good place to stop for the day, so they could get a good rest and an early start in the morning. Swetty, who had suckled the whole day after her little crying jag at the fence, gave Layzee a brief break with a long, loud burp. They laughed.

There was a trickle of water coming from a mountain spring. They drank for the first time in three days, and Ruddy was able to bring down a normal bird with his underpants sling. They feasted, and then they settled back to relax and try to forget what they had seen at the rusty fence. Butty asked, hopefully, “Erxj zhhkoc gnemikv?” (“No more bad we see, no?”) They smiled and reassured him.

About 100 feet from the family, at the edge of the clearing, the bushes rustled, and rocks rattled and rolled toward them. The pine trees parted, and there loomed a huge bear. His roar sent more rocks cascading down the slope. They gasped and clung together. This was no ordinary bear—not that they would know, since they had never seen a bear. The animal was 11 feet tall, its head was horribly deformed, it looked like a broken boulder, five feet wide, with no fur, and many grotesque, floppy tumors. Its snarling snout protruded from somewhere near the middle of this mess. The yard-long snout was bent at a right angle, displaying a mouthful of seven-inch yellow teeth. Drool, foam and snot were plentiful. He had only one huge eye, positioned just off center, next to the crooked snout. The big bad bear sported three arms, all of them different sizes: two hung from his sloped shoulders, and the third grew out of his left chest. He stood upright, exhibiting a foot-wide penis, with three feet of its considerable length dragging on the ground. Peeking out from behind the monster organ were two more huge, deformed, snarling bear heads. They hung unevenly like testicles from the master’s groin. This was a creature conceived and born near the bomb site. And he was hungry. He began to charge. Ruddy emerged from his fright-induced catatonic stupor: “Zbxtekc ztcq pxtoogj!” (“Find me big rock, and hurry!”) as he readied his underpants sling. Layzee immediately handed him a jagged rock about six inches across. Ruddy slung. It hit the creature on the snout, blasting out a wave of blood, gum tissue and a bunch of big yellow fangs. The charging bear didn’t even flinch. Butty found a stone shaped a like an arrowhead, only much larger. He could barely lift it as he rushed as fast as he could to his father. Ruddy reloaded and whipped the arrowhead like a rocket. It struck the approaching monster in his only eye. The pointed missile wedged in his eye socket. His howl echoed for miles as he spun in circles, totally out of control, his gargantuan genitalia flapping wildly. The centrifugal force caused the lower scrotal heads to distend, to the point of tearing loose. They screamed in pain, like two stuck pigs. Ruddy took the offensive. Layzee, with a dangling Swetty, and a hustling Butty beside her to help, fed Ruddy the ammo. Ruddy charged and bombarded the crazed colossus with rapid-fire five-pounders, forcing the blinded giant to the edge of the nearby cliff. Off he went. They heard a loud, juicy thump, as the nuclear bear exploded on the rocks 500 feet below.

It had been one helluva day for the Whormkovdovskivichykchevs. They got a good night’s sleep. Except for Ruddy—he kept one eye open all night.

The next day they trekked the foothills laterally and found a mountain pass they could handle. Three days later they finally exited the high ground to a beautiful vista. Then, the problem: They came to a great rolling river. It was impassable for them. They had never seen so much water all at once. Little Butty wandered to his right. They followed, with a shrug. They stopped at the top of a grassy hill overlooking the river. Butty pointed: “Hyajorbux koddbokqn vkldajz.” (“Go water over thing.”) What they saw about a mile down the river was a railroad bridge. It crossed the river at a narrow point, but still was over a mile long. When they arrived at the bridge, they were puzzled by the rails. Ruddy decided they would stay the night on their side of the river and face crossing the next day.

It was a pleasant place to camp. They bathed in the river, and Ruddy caught a couple of fish by hand. That night they had roasted fish. Of course, tiny Swetty continued to siphon her meals. Mother Layzee was like an all-night diner for the little glutton.

They were awakened in the middle of the night by a loud clanking, a hiss and whistle, and a roaring belch, concluding with a squealing of steel on steel. Being only about 30 yards from the tracks, it was a real shock. “Bjkxx jocvh zruqah mpv?” (“Is it another monster?”) Layzee whispered. They froze.

It was a mile-long freight train. It had stopped just before entering the bridge. Some men exited the old, pre-World War Two engine and were checking various parts of the steaming, burping, iron behemoth.

It was a pitch-black night except for the engine’s headlight, which illuminated the first hundred yards of the bridge. They could hear the railroad men laughing and speaking the same language the toothless truck driver spoke (Russian), which was mumbo jumbo to the Whormkovdovskivichykchevs. The railroaders were having great fun pissing together in the gravel and watching their streams sparkle in the engine’s headlight.

Suddenly, little Butty was up and ready to go. “Rakhqovov ynlejsk mduhzzlj dkav.” (“Ride loud thing fast.”)

Ruddy had begun to respect his “little Captain.”

They saddled up and moved quietly through the bush toward the train. Butty guided them away from the engine toward the middle of the train.

The sounds of the old engine starting to fire up spooked Ruddy and Layzee. At that moment, Butty pointed to an old beat-up rusty freight car, near the middle of the train. Its door had been left open. The train gave its first creak of movement as Butty scrambled up the gravel embankment to the open door. Ruddy, grasping Layzee around the waist, followed the four-year-old. Ruddy boosted Butty into the car. The little guy tumbled in, stirring up a cloud of dust. As the train began to creep, Ruddy lifted Layzee and the ever-sucking Swetty onto the ledge—and she, with babe attached, swung in gracefully. Ruddy, now running in the loose gravel as the big wheels began to turn faster, threw in his big bag and vaulted through the doorway. Not a moment too soon. Ruddy saw the embankment disappear beneath him as he leaped aboard.

They huddled, dazed and disheveled, looking out the open door. The train was up to full speed. It roared and rocked across the ominous sprawling black water. They were on a “thing” to somewhere. Only little Butty knew exactly where.

They could see nothing inside the dusty, stinky boxcar. It rattled angrily, and the cold night air whistled with gale force through the porous car. They snuggled tightly in the less windy corner and tried to sleep. The train continued at full speed all night, probably 85 to 90 miles an hour, heading east.

At first light they explored the inside of the filthy car. They discovered two very old dust-covered cartons of canned beans, 48 thirty-two ounce cans in all. Ruddy wiped the dust off one of the boxes. On the side of the carton was a drawing of a happy man eating Hoppy Hoofer Beans. Ruddy sliced open the carton with his knife and saw that same happy man eating Hoppy Hoofer Beans on all the cans’ labels. They had no idea what they were looking at, but the picture was worth a thousand words, and they were hungry. Ruddy cut the bulging top off a can, carefully avoiding the happy man on the label. They ate heartily, with dirty fingers, from the can. Little Butty especially enjoyed the communal eating.

CHAPTER FOUR

Boomhol

Before the Whormkovdovskivichykchevs discovered the two cartons of Hoppy Hoofers Beans, no one had laid eyes on the cans for 50 years (that’s 48 years past the “sell by” date).The two cartons were part of a shipment that once filled the old rattletrap freight car. It took 6,000 cartons to fill it to the roof and end to end. That’s 144,000 thirty-two ounce cans of Hoppy Hoofers Sweet Baked Beans, packed in extra thick brown sugar syrup and pure wasp honey. Made in Boomhol, Alabama, USA. The beans were originally headed to West Berlin on four semi-trailer trucks, courtesy of the U.S. Lend Lease program. But they were confiscated at a communist checkpoint. They were then shipped to Moscow, where they were loaded into this very same freight car 50 years ago. A month later it left Moscow by rail, destined for the eastern edge of Russia, near the Arctic Circle, for a remote Red Army post with 300 starving soldiers. The train never made it. About halfway there it was hijacked by a large gang of starving members of the Mongolian Communist Youth League. They looted the train clean, except they missed two cartons of Hoppy Hoofers. They got the other 5,998 cartons. The two cartons they didn’t get had remained in the same corner of the ancient boxcar through five decades of freezing and thawing. As history has it, the other 5,998 cartons of Hoppy Hoofers were promptly taken by lethal force from the starving Mongolians by a rampaging band of starving Red Guards. Mao, who wasn’t starving, ordered his personal cadre to liquidate the starving Red Guards and “bring me the beans.” It was said Mao loved the beans and ate a full 32-ounce can of Hoppy Hoofers at dinner every night for many years, before he died of sugar diabetes, complicated by a blown anus. Mao posted many complimentary letters to Hoppy Hoofers, 1710 Skidmarc Boulevard, Boomhol, Alabama, USA. All the letters were returned, unopened.

The Whormkovdovskivichykchevs savored the fuzzy sweet aftertaste of their first can of well-aged Hoppy Hoofers. The problem was water. They wondered if the train would ever slow down enough to allow them to jump off safely. After four days, thirst had become an invisible monster about to pounce. The fifth night of train travel without water the train slowed and came to a noisy, screeching, banging stop. Ruddy peeked out the door. He motioned to Layzee to be quiet and stay out of sight. There were men out there and many other tracks with standing trains. He noticed a small wooden building, well lit, about 50 yards from their car. Ruddy could see two workers in the building—one was wolfing down his lunch, the other was drinking from a small cup, which he refilled in a corner of the shack from a large jug of water. Soon the men left the shack and headed back to work. Ruddy would have to cross six sets of tracks. Some of the previously parked engines were now being jockeyed around, making quite an obstacle course; and once he reached the building, he would have to break a window if the door was locked. Ruddy kissed Layzee and the kids and whispered, “Zdskoeskj juqkvagov juk.” (“I love you.”) He slipped out of the car, hugging the side. The workers had moved farther away toward the head of the train. His legs were wobbly as he crept from one boxcar to another, nearly getting dissected when he tripped on a rail. He rolled clear of the tracks a split second before the huge steel wheels of a backing engine roared by. The noise was deafening as he pulled himself up out of the greasy gravel and continued onward toward the jug of life. He hurdled the rails and dodged the engines until he was one set of tracks away from the building. He could see clearly now. It was a big jug of water on a stand. He wondered, just for a moment, “Tk xmdopbyv tqoj smch?” (“Will I be able to lift it?”) He started for the door, then stopped, as another worker entered the building and took a small cup and filled it very slowly and swigged it down and then refilled and sipped it, almost like he was taunting Ruddy. It was all Ruddy could do to contain himself from charging the loafer. Finally, the worker crumpled his empty cup and threw it across the room and missed the waste basket. He sauntered over and picked up the cup and tried another shot—this time he scored. Finally, the malingerer left the building. Ruddy dashed to the door and entered. Throwing care to the winds, he wrestled the 60-pound jug off the stand. It was heavy. The terrible thirst and bean diet had weakened him substantially. Struggling with the weight of an awkward jug containing 60 pounds of sloshing water, Ruddy staggered like a drunken sailor as he somehow cleared 43 yards of rails and menacing engines. He had just a few yards to go when a bleary eyed engineer—moving his engine—caught a fleeting glimpse, in his headlight, of a grease-coated creature with long unruly black hair and a beard that covered most of his torso lurching across the tracks carrying a large gleaming object on his shoulder. Ruddy barely beat the iron horse’s cow catcher. The juiced engineer slurred a loud “Fucking Sasquatch” (in Russian) and chugalugged the remaining half bottle of vodka. Ruddy rolled in the gravel. With the water jug held tight, he felt the hot breath of the engine just inches away from dividing him in half. He ended up on his back, with the jug on his chest. Looking up, he saw Layzee’s filthy dirty, beautiful face peering down from the doorway. He had made it back to the Whormkovdovskivichychevs’ mobile home. He shoved the jug in the door, and with his last bit of energy, Ruddy climbed into the car. The inch-thick dust on the car floor clung to the gravel grease that coated Ruddy. Layzee kissed him. And then they drank. They poured water into the empty bean cans and drank until they squished. The train jerked and started to move. Ruddy looked back at the watering shack and spotted a puzzled, thirsty worker looking for the water jug.

They lost track of the days. They became wearier than they were when they were walking. The family had become filthy dirty from the dust and debris blowing about wildly inside the porous old freight car. When it rained, the rain came through the roof in torrents, turning their space into a muck pool. The train began to stop more frequently. Each time the train stopped, the Whormkovdovskivichychevs huddled out of sight, holding their breath, fearing they might be discovered—and then what? Butty thought they should get off at the next opportunity, but Ruddy overruled the little Captain.

The next stop was a small village in the middle of nowhere. Butty again pushed for getting off, but Ruddy thought they should get all the mileage they could out of their train ride. They were certainly going the right direction, Ruddy hoped (none too confidently). The train rolled on again at full speed.

The next night again the train slowed and stopped. Ruddy peeked out into the full-moon night toward the head of the train. A few men were working on the engine. They appeared to be in another little village, no larger than Gubxermn. Half of the train extended out of the village area into the barren countryside. Ruddy felt a pang of homesickness as he examined the little hamlet. A few lights barely showed from the small ramshackle cottages. The train lurched, groaned and slowly started its climb to full speed. Suddenly, three large shadowy figures leaped through the open door. Ruddy was stunned. They were like wild animals that could see in the dark. The full moon was beaming in the open doorway—Ruddy could be easily seen, brightly lit by the moon. The intruders could only be seen in silhouette. They were laughing fiendishly and cursing in a strange, harsh-sounding language. Ruddy could tell by their tone this was going to be bad—maybe worse than the monster animal. Layzee quickly deposited little Swetty in one of the empty cardboard cartons, then wrapped Butty in her arms.

All three of the mongrels jumped on Ruddy. They all fell with a thud onto the splintered, warped floorboards—with Ruddy on the bottom. They pummeled Ruddy mercilessly, maniacally hooting and hollering with each blow they delivered to Ruddy’s face. Ruddy got a glimpse of one of their faces in the moonlight. It was grotesque, as ugly as a human face could be. Ruddy got a good solid punch in that sent one of them rolling off the squirming pile. Unfortunately, the devil collided with Layzee. At once his eyes gleamed. She saw the hideous savage in a flash of moonlight. She was weak with fear. He threw little Butty aside like a ragamuffin and pounced on Layzee. He began to tear at her bedraggled clothing. Layzee made no sound, no scream, no cry. In a split second, all fear left her. She began to fight. She scratched, she gouged, she spit. Undeterred, the monster finally pinned her down. Her arms were outstretched; her legs were spread but kicking wildly. He let go of one of her arms to punch her. He missed. He grabbed at her face. His slimy fingers slid into her mouth. Layzee bit with all her might—and a mighty bite it was. Off came the mongrel’s middle and fourth fingers. He lifted his head to scream, his eyes bulging; he saw little Butty straddling his mother’s head. Butty pissed a good steady stream of potent, bean-yellowed urine point-blank into the eyes of this wild animal. Then the little fella kicked hard with his right leg. The hard leather of his little goatskin boot (made in Gubxermn) caught the brute in the nostrils full power. It drove the bridge of his nose into his brain. With a little whimper, the brain-dead monster rolled backward and out the door. The train was now moving at full speed.

Ruddy at this point had managed, while on his back, in the heat of mortal battle, to simultaneously grasp the Adam’s apples of both thugs. Milking 200 goats a day, seven days a week, for 27 years gave him a grip to be reckoned with. Ruddy raised both gagging mongrels to their feet and backed them to the open door. Out they went, without their Adam’s apples; these followed. Ruddy shook his hands as clean as he could and went to his wife: “Vvskvqojv tyqnopsk dlnmnqj?” (“My love, are you okay?”) Layzee replied, “Ynmovkrd hzlukscvh dzzqtanhc vzb Lnbbjv xu.” (“I’m fine, my love. But from now on, we listen to Butty.”) They all hugged. Suddenly they heard a yelp. They jumped. It was baby Swetty in the bean box. Layzee picked her up so she could be included in the group hug.

The train was roaring full tilt across an infinite plain of moonlight as they settled back to try and sleep away the horror they had just faced and prevailed. Ruddy closed his swollen, painful eyes and began to dream instantly about the train ride, across dark threatening rivers, heaving over mountain passes, edging mile-deep canyons, and stealing the water jug and those beans, the constant farting, and tonight, the brutal battle with the horrible beasts—where would this all end and when?

The next morning they awoke to see the remnants of the battle. Two grotesquely curled fingers lay near the door. Blood stains marked the site where the Adam’s apples had been excised. Also, the beasts had left some baggage: a dirty half-full olive-colored seabag, an equally filthy fur parka and two shoes, both in shabby shape—one brown, size 14 extra wide for the left foot; and the other shoe was even larger, a black and white dandy, also for the left foot.

With a piece of bean carton, Layzee swept out the gore. Ruddy opened the grimy seabag. He was puzzled by the contents. There were four clear plastic bags full of white powder, two pounds each, and a whole bunch of US money. Ruddy threw out the powder and the grimy seabag. He kept the US money only because it looked important. Of course, neither he nor Layzee had any idea of what the money was. Ruddy crammed it into his tattered burlap bag. It made his bag substantially heavier and more bulky. Ruddy hoisted the bag to his shoulder and staggered a bit. Little Butty laughed: “Vrzost zovcne mhorcfq xkju vrzzkr.” (“Daddy’s bag grow bigger than Daddy.”) Ruddy decided to pitch the US money, but Butty objected. Ruddy was puzzled, but went along with the little guy because it made Butty laugh, and laughter had been a rarity on this journey. It was a million-dollar decision. They also salvaged the cruddy, foul-smelling fur parka. It was large enough to cover them all at night. And during the day, Layzee could wear it and wrap Swetty and Butty in it with her. As for the two huge left-foot shoes, Layzee used them to replace her dainty, worn-out goatskin boots.

Ruddy suggested, “Hovlklvsch ksgrodar alichj noykizrovnjk?” (“We leave the train at the next night stop?”) Butty approved. Layzee smiled at Ruddy. Swetty pooped on her mom’s forearm.

They packed the remaining eleven cans of beans. Ruddy crammed seven into his bulging burlap bag, and the burdened Layzee somehow worked the other four into her satchel. They made room for the cans by throwing away their change of clothes. They were excited at the prospect of leaving the squalor of their mobile home. Ruddy surveyed the car with no nostalgia. He smiled at little Butty, who was squatting in the far corner. The first day on the train, Ruddy had made a slit trench for their pooping and peeing. He pulled up one of the floorboards in a downwind corner of the car. They could watch the railroad ties strobe beneath them when they squatted. Butty loved it. Often he would spend an hour or two squatted with his tattered trousers down around his ankles trying to count the whizzing ties. Due to Ruddy’s ingenuity, the car did not smell any worse after 23 days.

It was growing colder by the hour. Ruddy wondered if they were still going in the right direction, whatever that was. Night came. They grew tense. The train finally slowed and began to squeal as the brakes caught hold. Then they heard the usual bang, bang, bang, just before the complete stop. Ruddy, with a mighty grunt, hoisted his burlap bag and Butty, and eased his way off quietly. Ruddy took a quick look around and set Butty and the bag down on the ground. Layzee, with Swetty (latched as usual), slid into Ruddy’s arms. She reached back into the car and grabbed her forlorn satchel, now heavier with the cans of beans.

No one appeared to be in the area. It was a railroad yard similar to the one where Ruddy stole the water jug, only much larger. There were many more engines and boxcars parked randomly on what seemed to be a mile’s width of tracks. They felt their way toward the head of the train in the pitch-black, drizzly night. They stood motionless, as the engine, 100 feet ahead, belched and started to move. There was the familiar clanking as the cars began to follow. Ruddy, just for an instant, had feeling of sweet sorrow as their mobile home clickety-clacked away. They were dangerously close to the deafening squeal of steel on steel. Ruddy led his family away quickly—into an obstacle course. For an hour, they tripped and stumbled across the endless rows of tracks, around engines and cars. At one point, a long train of parked boxcars blocked their way. They had to crawl under a car. They emerged, greasy, and just in time as the train began to move. Occasionally they heard distant voices; this gave Ruddy some hope that there would be an end to this brutal night hike.

As they bumped around a stinky tank car, a city skyline appeared before them. At last they were clear of the torturous rail yard. They saw a narrow road just ahead, leading out of the yard toward the city.

CHAPTER FIVE

belly of a whale

They started walking on the road. It was the first time in their lives they had walked on concrete.

A large thing came from behind them, with headlights blazing. Ruddy gathered his fearful family to the side of the road.

The bus was brightly lit inside and was half full of workers. The bus stopped abruptly, and the door popped open. The sleepyhead driver impatiently motioned the Whormkovdovskivichychevs on board. Ruddy stepped up and on, followed by Layzee, who was holding the nursing Swetty. Butty bounced on last. They stood silently in a weird clump beside the now wide-awake driver. He was dumbstruck by the sight: Ruddy’s hair looked like the snakes of Medusa, reaching out a foot from his scalp. His beard was black as coal and draped to his waist; it had dried blood and beans stuck in it. His filthy, bare toes protruded from his worn-out goatskin boots, each toe sporting a cruddy three-inch nail. Ruddy still had two swollen black eyes from the beasts. Layzee had the grimy massive fur parka wrapped around her and the children. Baby Swetty continued, without taking a breath, to fervently suckle a bare tit amongst all that fetid fur. Layzee’s mud-crusted ankles showed above the eight-sizes-too-big beast shoes, one left-foot brown shoe and one left-foot black and white shoe. She had dried blood around her mouth, and her blond hair was matted with boxcar dust that the rain had turned to mud. Little Butty looked like a coal miner. He was totally blackened, except where the seat of his pants was missing, exposing two white cheeks.