Morning Habits (Fiction)

Bubba

Belching loudly was the first of many morning habits Bubba had perfected. Feeling the eruptions of last night's beer drinking and wing eating rip out into the mix of morning breath, he let it roar into the morning’s blend of birds chirping and kids laughing on their way to school.

Making an attempt to rise, he rested on his elbow and waited until the immediate thunder of the blood pulsing up the sides of his forehead subsided. This was the worst part of the morning, but the good times enjoyed the night before had been worth this day’s pain.

Feeling the need for a daily itch, he reached down and sunk his fingernails into his groin in a semi conscious effort. Immediately, he noticed the reason for his early awakening as the rumbling started below. Last night’s beer was wanting out!

Getting out of bed, he quickly grabbed his bib overalls and fumbled to fasten one of the straps. Barefoot, he left the bedroom and stumbled towards the front porch.

The Storyteller

As a young man, Bubba had stayed way out in the country with his grandparents. That was after his mother had run off with some insurance salesman. His dad had said, “The Hell With It” and went on a drinkin’ binge that didn’t end until he’d walked out in front of one of the tractor’s in the county fair’s annual parade. Stopped the band for about an hour (Poor kids in those hot uniforms) while they took away the body and cleaned up the tractor.

Bubba’s grandfather was notorious for readin’ novels. That, in itself, wasn’t such a bad thing. However, unless you got up at the break of day, you could forget about utilizin’ the indoor plumbin’ facilities until lunch. He’d sit in that little room and read all mornin‘! Educated man, he was!

Growin’ up, Bubba had grown accustomed to that fact. Instead of causin’ his insides to burst, he’d simply started goin’ out on the front porch and lettin’ loose. He’d gotten pretty good at writin’ different things in the snow, over time, and would be happy to put this skill up against any of his amateur friends!

After the death of his grandmother (his grandfather goin’ first to have some peace and quiet before his wife joined him), Bubba had sold the farm and bought himself a house in town. (He said it was a whole lot closer to the liquor store and Ruck’s Pool Hall.) Still, old habits die hard.

Miss Lillian (Her Story By The Storyteller)

Now, old Miss Lillian lived across the street from Bubba. Bein’ an early riser, there was nothing more she liked to do in the morning’ than to take her coffee out to the porch swing and read the newspaper. (She used to say she was well informed, but we knew she just wanted to see what everyone in town had been up to so she’d have something to say when the round of mornin’ phone calls to her friends began.)

Miss Lillian was a true Southern Lady in upbringin‘. She liked things to be “proper” around her. When we were kids, she’d promise she’d have our daddies tan our hides with a switch if we didn’t act like little gentlemen. Oh, I forgot to tell you, she’d been our second grade teacher down at the elementary school for decades. Some even said when the school was built, she came with it! (Not many doubted that!)

First time Miss Lillian had seen Bubba do his morning thing, poor lady nearly had a heart attack! When she got over the shock, she went right to the phone and called the police. Of course, by the time they got there, with sirens blarin’ and lights flashin’ (mostly because they didn‘t get a chance to use them much with it being a small town and such), Bubba was long done. Didn’t make Miss Lillian very happy when they told her they couldn’t do anything’ unless they witnessed it or she provided a picture of the crime. Course, they had to bite their tongues to keep from laughin’ about it!

I hear Miss Lillian was so mad she actually used one or two words that threw her being proper right out the window! Surprised those police officers so much they acted like they were in second grade again waitin’ on her to pull out the ruler and whack their knuckles. She ran them right off the porch, screamin’ about how she’d do no such thing and all. It might’ve died there if one of ‘em hadn’t told her that the town wasn’t payin’ them to sit in front of Bubba’s house every morning‘, waitin’ on him to get up and … well, you know!

Miss Lillian picked up one of her smaller decorative yard pieces (I think it was one of those baby ducks that follows the mama to nowhere), and flung it at the police car as the officers jumped inside to escape her wrath, laughin’ their fool heads off. Now, by luck, that duck hit one of their flashin’ lights and shattered its clear lens!

Both those officers got out of the car real slowly, eyes lookin’ towards the broken fragments atop the roof of the cruiser. I hear they looked at those pieces, then, across the roof at each other, and then, back at the pieces on the roof. You ain’t gonna believe this, but they went up and handcuffed Miss Lillian, put her in the back seat of the cruiser and took off to jail! Oh, she was immediately released, but she never mentioned that morning’ to anyone. She never called the police on Bubba again, either!

Neighbors Forever

Bubba pushed open the screen door and shuffled out to the edge of the porch. He coughed several times before clearing his throat of the remnants of the previous night’s cigarette smoking. Gathering it up in his mouth, he finally spit and let it fly as far as he could! It landed way down the sidewalk.

Rearing his arms up, he arched his back and stretched until he started hearing his vertebrae pop. Relaxing now, he stared across the street at Miss Lillian’s. He could see her, staring at him behind the many colors and multiple flower pots in her front window. He realized long before that it ticked her off to see him do his thing, but he kind of got a kick out of making her squirm. Had to get back at the bitch somehow for how she’d treated him in second grade.

Reaching down, he unbuttoned the bib fly, reached in, and eased it out. He’d perfected the two finger hold years ago when he’d catch snakes in the woods out behind his grandparents farm. Yep, he still had it.

Pushing from his stomach, he arched the stream towards the recent spit on the sidewalk. Up and down, back and forth, and … well, you get the picture. After thirty seconds and a couple of relief filled sighs, the spit was washed away. Bubba put things back where they belonged and just rested a moment.

He stood there just trying to get his mind working halfway right as it pushed aside the hangover and began to remind him of all he had to do that day. Raising his right arm, he waved at Miss Lillian and turned towards the screen door.

Yep, the day definitely had possibilities!

Author's Note

Several years ago (My Gosh, it's been ten years!), I started writing a book. After going nowhere and 400 pages later, it still sits unfinished.

This was the first chapter of that book, revised for the 658th time! Even if the rest of it never gets published, I can say the 1st chapter did!

Hope you enjoyed!

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