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SEASON 2, EPISODE 6

Season TWO – Episode 6 – “There is no sun.”

Rusty exited the tavern, beer in hand, and headed across the south side of the veranda to rejoin the evening dinner party. The crisp autumn air of Montana allowed him to catch his breath, and he was no longer “lost”. Matter of fact he was quite the opposite.

When he had become disoriented mushroom hunting that day in the hills, with Boo Boo aka Beeby Haywire… He had crawled from the grasp of that multi flowered rose bush… Gathered his confident senses, faced the darkness, and marched his way to the west putting himself back on the map and on his way home.

Boo Boo was clearly pissed, for leaving his pail of mushrooms behind in the bush… But the two would return the following day (lots of sunshine) and enjoy a successful harvest.

“Find your own sunshine,” is what Rusty Flathers was now telling himself. “Something that makes you happy.”  Because right now… “There is no sun when you live in the shadows of Sally Squatsnfishes.”

Nature calls… Exciting the veranda he made his way through the darkness toward some privacy bushes to relieve himself. The beer was refreshing, but on an empty stomach it was going directly to his bladder.

Upon completion he stood erect, shook it twice and was just getting tucked away when a long-ago voice softly spoke, “Rusty… Is that you? It’s me… Ellie… Ellie Waylayer.”

     “Son of a… OUCH!!!” he shrieked.

Her voice ignited an internal alarm forcing a hand jerk reaction that placed the foreskin of his “you know what” within the grasp of the original Levi 505 denim steel clasped zipper. From what he could immediately make out, there was no blood, but the piercing pain was immeasurable.

     “Oh my god!” he exhaled. “Ellie come here. Come here and help me, please.”

     “What is it… What’s the matter…”

     “I was taking a leak… You scared the shit out of me… Now I’ve got my “you know what” caught in my zipper!”

Wincing in agony he hunched halfway forward as the gag reflex at the back of his throat started to tingle. “Please – Please – Please help me Ellie… I can’t get it unzipped,” he pleaded.

     “Dude there are cameras everywhere on this property,” she thought to herself. “The last thing I need is for someone to see me down on my hands and knees doing something that might appear as, YOU KNOW WHAT.”

But the tears were real as Rusty begged for assistance… And so… Being the kind and gentle sort that she was… Ellie Waylayer went down on her hands and knees in the shaded darkness of the privacy bushes and caught a glimpse of the “one-eyed-snake”.

“This is un -_ _ _ _ _ _ _ -believable,” she cursed to herself. “How the hell did he find his way to this ranch? And now this?! There better not be a fricken camera watching!”

Short of sobbing… Rusty gasped for air and stood motionless. Any slight movement spelled disaster toppled by more excruciating pain.

The constant discomfort reminded him of his post-junior-year of college. A molar removal incident set new precedent to his list of “madcap things I’ve done in my life”. The dentist in charge later referred to his situation as a “classic case of dry socket”. And coincidentally for Rusty… At the time… He had TWO! One on each side of his mouth.

Now normally this wouldn’t be a problem… Unless you’re Rusty Flathers planning to go on a weekend float trip with Beaureguard Dick (friends called him RED, because it partially was). Anyway, Red Dick insisted on Friday night beers at the Two Harbor Tavern before departing the next morning, and the carbonation (Rusty drank a thousand Miller High Life tap beers) wore away the protective covering of his molar dental procedure.

Waking the following morning… He suffered unbearable pain with traces of blood running down both corners of his mouth. The much-anticipated float trip would have to be postponed. His immediate decision was to gather his hungover bearings, pick up the phone and call Red.

     “Hey dude… I’m out… Seriously… My teeth are killing me… I’m gonna have to see a doctor.”

     “Bullshit, let me make a phone call… Stormy might be able to sneak you some pain pills,” Red replied.

Turned out he couldn’t get her to pull the trigger on the pills… At least not in the manner he anticipated… But Stormy Day Slaughter was able to convince her dentist father to see Rusty on the side and look at the pain causing problem.

“YES!” It was confirmed by Doc Slaughter, “Rusty you have TWO dry sockets… And you have obviously not been following post procedure rules given by your dental surgeon.”

     “Um, if you’re talking about chewing copious amounts of leaf tobacco and consuming excessive levels of carbonated beverages that contain alcohol… Then yes sir, epic failure for me on both counts,” Rusty replied while clasping the arms of the confessional dentist chair.

     “Is there a Hail Mary in regard to repenting dental sins?” he despondently pondered.

At 21 years of age Rusty was FINALLY “legal” to indulge in manly prohibitions. To him, a consistently wadded mouthful of Beechnut leaf blend tobacco, complimented by a considerably long line of Miller High Life tap beers, was SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) for a college student’s daily existence.

     “Young man… You need to pay attention. You will NOT heal properly if you continue to ignore doctors’ orders. That’s why we call them DOCTORS ORDERS!”

     “OK OK I understand. Can we do something for the pain? This is killing me.”

     “Yes, I have painkillers to take care of the current situation. At least enough to get you through the weekend,” Doc Slaughter responded. “And then you’re going to have to go back and see your surgeon.”

     “Thanks sir. I got a big float trip planned with Red Dick, I mean Beaureguard, today. But anyway, super thanks for seeing me!”

And just like that Rusty was out the door… Down the road… And on his way to a weekend of floating and fishing with his pal Red.

He made it until 1:13pm on that same day before cracking his first beer and having a big ‘ol chaw. The painkillers seemed to be working… So why not?!?!

As it turned out… Not the greatest of ideas… He and Red pitched a tent that night, and when he awoke at approximately 2:37am the pain had gone to LEVEL-HOLY-SISTER-MARY-MARGARET!

Without missing a beat Rusty opened the pill bottle… Popped in two pain killers… One more than advised… And promptly grabbed the first bottle of water he could find.

Oddly, there happened to be one (half-full) just outside the tent within arm’s reach… It sat innocently on top of the well iced beer cooler and offered a smooth ride down for the horse-sized pain meds.

The next time he woke up was due to the distressing voice of Red blaring at the top of his lungs, “What happened to that bottle of water that was on the cooler!”

     Barely audible… Rusty responded from the depths of his sleeping bag, “Uh, I drank it.”

     “You dumb ass! My CONTACT LENSES were in that bottle.”

Result… Super tough for Red to tie a fishing knot, bait a hook, make a cast, navigate his way down the river, and basically manage any fishing related task for the remainder of what became an extremely quiet Sunday morning (church mouse silent).

Days later… After a brief inspection… Rusty confirmed with Red that both lenses, in contrast to the two dry sockets, had successfully passed with minimal (for the most part zero) pain. There were no future float trips scheduled.

Rusty didn’t so much as flinch while Ellie surveyed the situation. He could hold statue still, but in Ellie’s presence, he was needing “it” to do the same.

She tweaked a bit and tinkered around gently for an easy solution.  But each time she touched it, and tried being calm, the consequence was the same (pain with the slightest touch).

For sure the zipper couldn’t go up… But what would it take to get it down? That was the pending question. And one that Ellie had the answer for.

     “I’m gonna need you to hold very, very still,” she cautioned after taking another up-close look at the impending situation. “The only way to get this racehorse back in the barn is to pull hard on the reins.”

     “Now hold your breath… I’m gonna count to three… And on three I’m gonna… But she had already done it before she got to one and the immediate sensation of pain relief was overwhelming for Rusty.

And there he stood… Pants down around his ankles…

And there stood Sally Squatsnfishes… Far in the distance… Rain day teardrops turning to flood waters on the cedar planked walkway of the veranda.

There is no sun bright enough to break through the ominous clouds of this situation.

–            To Be Continued –