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<\/h1>\n<\/h1>\nby Eli Cranor<\/p>\n
PTSD, flashbacks, whatever \u2013 it ain\u2019t what you think. I don\u2019t see the boys I shot head\u2019s dripping off sideways like JFK. I don\u2019t see Mitch \u201cSorcerer\u201d Rodriguez telling me about the Tao Te Ching<\/em> then pulling his final act of wizardry and exploding into a million pieces. It ain\u2019t like that. I don\u2019t see nothing. It\u2019s a feeling. It\u2019s that feeling when you\u2019re driving on ice and the car starts to slide. It\u2019s a top a roller coaster feeling, but you start down, hear a rattle, and know the cart is off the tracks. It\u2019s a walking in on Uncle Roy in a dress kind of feeling.<\/p>\n But it\u2019s Christmas, and Sheila don\u2019t think what I got is real. So I\u2019m here. I\u2019m smiling. And it\u2019s time for Dirty Santa. Every year it\u2019s the same gifts \u2013 knives for men, towels for women. Ten bucks all Sheila lets us spend. I\u2019ve seen her throw out a twenty-dollar Wal-Mart gift card. The gifts don\u2019t matter no ways \u2013 Notebooms like to win. Rules are simple, open gifts from youngest to oldest and you either go to the pile or steal. I seen grandma Jessus take a travel mug from a two year old on the Sheetmund side of the family just outa spite. Cousin Abby\u2019s up first, she\u2019s pulling something out the gift bag. It\u2019s the bag I brought. Gift bags usually the last to go. We like tearing stuff up.<\/p>\n \u201cMy God,\u201d says Sheila.<\/p>\n The way Cousin Abby pulls the scratch-off lotto ticket out the bag it could a been a porno.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d says Abby.<\/p>\n Sheila\u2019s face is red. She\u2019s a large woman, large and powerful enough to hold a room of thirty, powerful enough to run the annual Noteboom Dirty Santa. She\u2019s got on a duck-dudes sweater \u2013 Santa got a fluffy camo beard and Aviator shades. She\u2019s studying them tickets. She wears one of the old-time, \u201cWhat-Would-Jesus-Do,\u201d bracelets on her wrist \u2013 probably what she\u2019s asking herself about them scratch offs. She started wearing it when I left for basic. She cuts her eyes from the tickets to me without moving a single red curl on her head, eyes slice like sand niggers in the bush.<\/p>\n \u201cYou bring the devil in my house, Trigger?\u201d \u201cMy grandbaby\u2019s got in her hands gambling devices. I\u2019ll accuse my own son, the Holy Spirit or Elvis Presley. I\u2019ll get to the bottom.\u201d<\/p>\n At the mention of gambling the rest of the family grumbles, unaware until that moment what cousin Abby actually held in her hands. The Noteboom\u2019s are good country people \u2013 men and women who see life as simply and as pleasantly as the day they were born, maybe simpler, a gradual sweetening from mass quantities of high fructose corn syrup, voting Republican, and the joys small Baptist Sunday-schools can bring. The scratch offs are an intrusion upon their very way of life.<\/p>\n \u201cGamblin?\u201d says Cousin Roy.<\/p>\n \u201cYes sir,\u201d says Sheila nodding her head.<\/p>\n \u201cWell now,\u201d says Roy stealing glances at the tickets, \u201cthem the \u2018Ten Dollar Did-I-Wins?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRoy,\u201d says Sheila.<\/p>\n \u201cHell Sheila, them guaranteed money.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGuaranteed money?\u201d says Sheila and looks down her nose at Roy.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, they say you gonna at least win your money back with them tickets, don\u2019t know how they make no money,\u201d says Roy. \u201cBut hey now, they for a good cause.\u201d Roy licks his lips. He knows he\u2019s got Sheila now.<\/p>\n \u201cA good cause?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah all the \u2018Ten Dollar Did-I-Wins?\u2019 go to cancer kids. You seen them commercials, them bald heads and \u2013 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe seen the commercials,\u201d Shelia says and cuts me off.<\/p>\n \u201cWell scratch it off, Ab,\u201d I say and wish I didn\u2019t for Sheila twitches them beady possum eyes at me and I feel her heat.<\/p>\n \u201cWait just a minute,\u201d says Sheila.<\/p>\n The rest of the Notebooms grumbled amongst the smaller factions of the family. The married in Sheetmunds grumbled the loudest.<\/p>\n \u201cHow we gonna reason these gambles?\u201d says Sheila to the family.<\/p>\n Heads turn to their huddles, the grumbles turn louder \u2013 \u201cmoney,\u201d \u201ctradition,\u201d and \u201cJesus\u201d are among the words most cited. I smile and count my ten bucks well spent. I hear Sheila huff at the confusion. I wipe the smile from my face.<\/p>\n \u201cAlright?\u201d says Sheila.<\/p>\n Cousin Roy stands and speaks, \u201cSheila we reckon it\u2019s a ten dollar gift, and thems the rules.\u201d<\/p>\n Sheila purses her lips at Roy. Squeezes her lips so hard that even her hard dark lines go white. She\u2019ll tell you them lines from me, but I weren\u2019t the one smoking real cigarettes. She quit though, quit as soon as I got back. Ain\u2019t seen her smoke another. Ain\u2019t smelled it neither. Even when the bottom falls out, even when I start to slide.<\/p>\n \u201cAny Notebooms got something to say?\u201d says Sheila.<\/p>\n Cousin Roy\u2019s a Sheetmund.<\/p>\n I stand because I know I got her.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s guaranteed money, Momma.\u201d<\/p>\n Few things Notebooms like more than a deal. I\u2019ve seen Sheila get wind of a big sale, return three bags of clothes to K-Mart, come back a week later, buy the same clothes fifteen percent off.<\/p>\n \u201cYou saying that ticket gonna be worth at least ten bucks?\u201d Sheila says and I go to sit down. \u201cNo sir, Trigger you answer me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRoy say it\u2019s guaranteed money,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n \u201cTrigger boy, don\u2019t be putting me between you and your momma,\u201d says Roy.<\/p>\n \u201cWell we need to get on with it,\u201d says Sheila. She squats down to Abby and the camo-Santa scrunches on her chest like he\u2019s unsure of the lotto ticket as well. \u201cAbby, honey, go on and scratch your ticket, that way we all know what we\u2019re playing for.\u201d<\/p>\n Abby turns up to Sheila, a look of pure innocence.<\/p>\n \u201cHold up now, Sheila,\u201d says Roy. \u201cWe ain\u2019t never got to opening the gifts before the game\u2019s over, don\u2019t see why we\u2019d start now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut see that\u2019s the difference here,\u201d says Sheila. \u201cMy baby Abby\u2019s either got a piece a paper in her hand or some real money. We need to know what we\u2019re playing for.\u201d<\/p>\n Sometimes I can feel them coming, but this one snuck up and bit hard. We got hit right outside Kabul. It happened right around sundown, about this time a day. Sheila\u2019s got this big window that overlooks the farm. The sun has dropped down and it hits me right in the eyes. Two of the Sheetmund boys dart around the corner with a toy gun they got for Christmas and I feel like my water\u2019s broke.<\/p>\n I\u2019m inside a Zeno\u2019s paradox.<\/p>\n I remember Sorcerer saying you keep halving something you won\u2019t never get to the end. I see that now. See them halving me right down to the core.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t nobody know what they playing for, that\u2019s the fucking point,\u201d I scream.<\/p>\n No one moves, not even a Sheetmund. They know I saw things over there. Saw the truth of things. Don\u2019t matter if there\u2019s a knife in one of them boxes, a set a towels or a ten-dollar bill \u2013 it ain\u2019t nothing. Ain\u2019t nothing nothing and that\u2019s exactly why I bought that scratch off.<\/p>\n \u201cTrigger, sit down boy,\u201d says one of the uncles.<\/p>\n But I\u2019m already up and moving. I snatch the scratch-offs from Abby\u2019s hand. Don\u2019t even use a coin or a knife or nothing. I push that ticket hard against the wall and dig into it with my thumbnail, little specks gray matter crinkles up and falls away as if I am scrapping into brain.<\/p>\n \u201cTrigger,\u201d says Sheila, but even she can\u2019t stop me now.<\/p>\n These scratch offs\u2019s cute, part the reason I got them \u2013 that and the bald kids and the guaranteed money. All you got to do is scratch off the three boxes and get two money signs. I\u2019ve already got one and I\u2019m working on the second box when Roy takes hold of my shoulder.<\/p>\n Roy\u2019s grip is strong despite his womanly tendencies. When I was a boy I seen Roy in one of Shiela\u2019s dresses \u2013 squeezed in tight, black hair and soft white skin bunched up and pouring out of places that I did not know existed on a man. I feel Roy\u2019s heat on my shoulder and think only of how his cheeks was powdered that day in the dress, soft globs that really made him look like a woman.<\/p>\n \u201cGet your fucking lady-hands off me,\u201d I say and keep digging at the ticket.<\/p>\n \u201cTrigger don\u2019t go psycho on us now, boy,\u201d says Roy. His breath is hot in my ear and smells of cigarettes and Slo-Gin. If only Sheila knew.<\/p>\n The second box is a frowny-face. I go to work on the third.<\/p>\n Shiela is at my other shoulder now. I feel like one of them cartoons with a devil and an angel sitting over me. I got a woman in a camo Santa sweater and a faggot \u2013 neither of them got a halo.<\/p>\n \u201cTrigger,\u201d says Sheila, \u201cit\u2019s alright honey.\u201d<\/p>\n Her breath is smooth and hot in my ear and for a second she almost clears me of it. But fucking Roy grabs for the tickets. It catches me off guard. I spin with a deft precision that only comes from training and knock faggot Roy out. My fist hits him right in the cheek. He\u2019s on the ground and his cheeks swolled up red like it was that day from the powder. His other cheek is cold and white, a few black hairs sprout from his jowls from a poor shave job and I think the dichotomy (a word a day, Sorcerer, a word a day) of the image fitting.<\/p>\n The room goes quiet. I scratch off the last box. The scratching is loud, louder than Sheila or Abby or whoever else was crying. My thumbnail breaks. I put the ticket to my canine teeth and keep grinding. Roy\u2019s still out when I pull the card from my mouth and see the money sign. I half expect his fat, gay ass to rise from the dead, but he does not.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a winner,\u201d I say, still staving off the feeling in my gut.<\/p>\n My victory is greeted only with silence. But then Sheila rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, glances at her bracelet, ands says, \u201cA winner?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes ma\u2019am,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, how much?\u201d says Sheila.<\/p>\n I hadn\u2019t even looked. On the back of the \u201cTen Dollar Did-I-Wins\u201d it tells you what your playing for before you even start scratching. Part of the fun. I slowly turn the ticket in my fingers and my gut churns. I ain\u2019t about to slide \u2013 the sun is down now, the boy cousins have gone on \u2013 it\u2019s just nerves.<\/p>\n I look at the amount on the back and nod. I knew I smelled money when I bought that scratch off. I walk over to Abby. She\u2019s nestled now in Sheila\u2019s sweater. She\u2019s crying hard and I\u2019m thankful for Santa\u2019s fluffy camo beard.<\/p>\n \u201cHere you go, Abs,\u201d I say and hand her the ticket.<\/p>\n The room is silent.<\/p>\n Abby sniffles, but takes the card. She looks at it but don\u2019t understand. One of the Sheetmund cousin\u2019s hollers, \u201cWell Abby, what\u2019s it worth?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTwenty thousand,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n Sheila gasps at the amount. Roy rises up like Lazarus, only dick or money could have resurrected his faggot ass that fast. The rest of the family starts to grumble again in their huddles.<\/p>\n \u201cAin\u2019t no use in your conspiring,\u201d I say. \u201cWe all know the rules. But now you know what you\u2019re playing for.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" PTSD, flashbacks, whatever \u2013 it ain\u2019t what you think. I don\u2019t see the boys I shot head\u2019s dripping off sideways like JFK. I don\u2019t see Mitch \u201cSorcerer\u201d Rodriguez telling me about the Tao Te Ching then pulling his final act of wizardry<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3076,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_bbp_topic_count":0,"_bbp_reply_count":0,"_bbp_total_topic_count":0,"_bbp_total_reply_count":0,"_bbp_voice_count":0,"_bbp_anonymous_reply_count":0,"_bbp_topic_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_reply_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_forum_subforum_count":0,"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[86,273],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3075","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-featured","category-short-short"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3075","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3075"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3075\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3077,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3075\/revisions\/3077"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3076"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3075"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3075"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3075"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n\u201cNow Sheila, you accusing me of debauchery?\u201d I say.<\/p>\n