Murder & Mayhem in Goose Pimple Junction by Amy Metz

Honey, if it involves you, I am taking it seriously.”

He's So Ugly His Cooties Have To Close Their Eyes
     
    bidness : noun \bid-nis\ business
    Mind your own bidness.
     
     
    [  1935  ]
     
    Goose Pimple Junction was a typical small town, where the hub of activity centered on the town square. On the south side of the square was the courthouse, which took up one entire block. The town filling station was on the southwest side, and next door sat The Majestic movie theatre, followed on the northwest side by Burke’s bakery, whose owner, Burke Henderson made the best doughnuts in seven counties. A combination candy shop and newspaper store sat in between the bakery and The First National Bank on the northeast block. Daffodil’s Home Goods Store, which sold everything from clothing to furniture, was diagonal to the bank on the east side. Completing that block was Ernestine & Hazel’s, a small five-and-dime store, and next to that was a diner. In the middle of the square was a wide green expanse, scattered with trees and benches, and a raised gazebo in the center.
    A typical Saturday afternoon in the heart of downtown Goose Pimple Junction would find all of the businesses humming with activity, but none more so than the Pure Oil filling station, which was always busy washing cars, checking oil, fixing tires, and pumping gas. Often, the police were parked up at the gas station, but you could count on them definitely being there on Saturdays. There was room on the side for them to park, and so many things happened in the heart of downtown, you saw it if you were at the station.
    Drunks constantly got into fights in the town square. In fact, it was a regular Saturday afternoon occurrence for the filling station owner, Psalmist David, P.D. to most people, to have to get out the water hose and wash the blood off the driveway after the police tried to arrest some drunkard who didn’t want to be hauled off to the drunk tank.
    Since the police were almost always at the station, they began to give its phone number out as one of their own. It got so that P.D. was calling to relay messages so often, they decided to install a whistle with an air compressor on it—a loud one, like the kind used at a factory. If one of the police cars wasn’t parked there when a call came in or a fight broke out, P.D. would blow the whistle, and the police would come see what was needed.
    Once, a drunk named ‘Hard Times,’ who was built like a tank, was all fired up and itching for a fight. The police chief, Bug Preston, and his deputy had followed him from a bar around the corner. It wasn’t long before he was shouting insults at the chief on the sidewalk in front of Ernestine’s and Hazel’s Sundries. The deputy disappeared, leaving Bug to face off with the drunk.
    “ Hey y’all! Come o’re hare and take a lookit this cracker jack po-leece man. He's so damn ugly his cooties have to close their eyes,” Hard Times yelled. He swayed a little, and got a grip on a light post to steady himself. Then he began to loudly sing insults. “He’s soooo uglyyyy his mama took him everywhere she went so she didn't have to kiss him goodbyyyyyyye.”
    The chief shot back, “You ain't worth the powder and shot it'd take to blow you to kingdom come, Hard Times.”
    Swaying and having trouble getting his words out, Hard Times said, “I am . . . I am gonna skin . . . your . . . your neck and . . . rrun your . . . your lleg through it!”
    “ Oh yeah? Well you better give your heart to Jesus, 'cause your butt is mine,” the chief said.
    Everyone knew Bug Preston was trigger-happy, but the drunk apparently forgot. The chief pulled out his gun and fired between the man’s legs. It didn’t faze Hard Times, but it distracted him enough that a deputy was able to sneak up behind him and hit him over the head with a tire iron, knocking him out cold.
    Another time, John Hobb and the other tellers watched through the bank windows as two police officers got into