Baby Huey: A Cautionary Tale of Addiction Read Online Free

came out and waved his hands. The noise faded when both molding machines were shut off, but the two men operating the ripsaw machine kept working. Berry got their attention and they stopped; then he pointed toward the ceiling, which meant that the trailer was overfilled with sawdust.
    Of the six-man crew only Hank and I were not work-release, and we were the only ones allowed outside to shovel the sawdust and roll the tarpaulin back so the truck driver could replace it with an empty trailer.
    Without instruction the four work-release men picked up brooms and started sweeping the floor. Hank and I, grinning, headed for the back door. If done properly it wouldn’t take ten minutes to complete the job, but Hank and I, as usual, milked it, taking several minutes just to climb the ladder to the catwalk that spanned the trailer.
    Standing knee-deep in sawdust inside the trailer, we could see the rooftops of Goldenwood, the county jail, and the Bryant Meat factory. But we focused on the back door, to avoid Berry looking out and catching us, as he called it, screwing the duck.
    Hank lighted a cigarette. “What’s up, bro? You look like you suffered a malodorous discharge. What did it, cootchie or slobber?”
    The back door opened and Hank and I immediately started shoveling sawdust.
    Berry shouted, “Take all damn day, will ya!” and slammed the door.
    We stopped. “Fuck him!” Hector said.
    “You gonna start a fire one day,” I said, noticing his cigarette smoldering in the sawdust.
    “Ain’t my shit. Burn up what they gon’ do, fire me? I make more money collecting unemployment. I asked Berry The Fairy for a raise, guess what he gave me? A damn dime! Come up to me, patted me on the back. ‘I got you the raise you asked for.’ I stopped calling him Fairy. I got my check, didn’t see no raise. Asked him and he said a dime. Sumbitch smiling like he did me a favor.”
    “Yeah, I know. I got a quarter back in March and he did the same to me.”
    “A quarter? No shit?”
    “Let’s finish this up, man. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

    * * * * *

    After work I stopped at a liquor store on Twelfth and Woodrow, gave a panhandler fifty cents and bought a forty ounce of Old Milwaukee. Back in the car I remembered I was supposed to be saved, then walked across the street to 7/11 and got an empty Big Gulp cup.
    At the apartment Doreen was in the kitchen cooking while Lewis watched Pokemon in the living room. Smoke reeking of burnt pasta drifted from the kitchen.
    “Honey,” Doreen said, “how was your day?”
    “Okay. How was yours?” Doreen kept calling me honey I could get used to being saved.
    “Not too bad,” Doreen said, and then launched into a long complaint about one of her fifth-grade students acting up in class. Sitting next to me on the couch was her spoiled, overfed son whom she had to bribe to pick up his clothes. Yet let one of her students move too slowly going to the blackboard--that child was, in her words, the product of lazy, immature parents.
    Lewis gave me a look. “What you drinking?”
    “Water.”
    He sniffed the air. “Don’t smell like water. Smells like beer.”
    That brought Doreen into the living room. Frowning, she pointed a wooden spoon at me. “I know you’re not drinking beer.” Again, more incredulous: “I know you’re not drinking beer!”
    “Smells like beer to me,” Lewis said.
    “Root beer,” I lied. “Beer don’t come in Big Gulps cup.”
    Doreen moved toward me. “Let me see it,” reaching for my cup. “Give it here,” grabbing my arm, spilling foam in my lap.
    Shaking her head: “Just last night you turned your life over to the Lord. Didn’t that mean anything to you?”
    I didn’t respond. What could I say?
    Doreen sighed and went back into the kitchen.
    It took all my willpower not to pour the cup on Bigmouth’s fat head, who now was laughing at Pokemon without a care he’d blown my cover.
    At the dinner table Doreen asked me to bless the half-burnt