Booneville Retribution Read Online Free

Booneville Retribution
    By S. Furlong-Bolliger
    “You know, my wife, Dawn, just has no sense of humor anymore,” I was telling the guys. We were hanging out at Sid’s Hardware. They offered free coffee and a few of us had gotten into the habit of gathering there in the mornings.
    “Well Larry,” Chet started, pausing to spit a sunflower shell into his white foam cup. I’d never seen Chet without a mouthful of sunflower seeds. “It’s hard to keep any sense of humor around here since Halport closed. Most of the town’s out of work.”
    “Yeah, those SOBs at Halport,” Hank added. Hank never minced words.
    “I get that guys, believe me,” I said. “It’s just Dawn. She’s over the edge these days.”
    Chet tossed his cup into the trash, folded his arms across his chest, and let out a long sigh. “What’s her problem, Larry?”
    I could feel the corner of my mouth twitch with anticipation. “Well, she was complaining, as usual. Seems she’s so bitchy these days. Going on about how Joe Farley bought his wife a new Mustang. She says she never gets anything—”
    “What?!” Hank jumped in. “Is she nuts? You’re out of work, man. You can’t be buying a new car!”
    “That’s what I said. I told her, ‘Look here, Dawn,’” I paused for effect. They were hanging on my every word. “If you want something that goes from 0 to 150 in less than five seconds, then get yourself down the hall and hop on that bathroom scale.”
    That got a hoot from the guys. They were rolling. Hank even slapped me on the shoulder as I tossed my cup and turned to leave. “You always crack me up, Larry,” he said.
    Yeah, that’s me—I could always leave them laughing. Only it was getting harder these days. Most of us were on our last benefit check, so things were about to go from bad to worse. A lot of my friends had already moved away. Booneville was drying up since the Halport plant had shut down. It was still hard to believe that some corporate suit running numbers in a skyscraper thousands of miles away had killed my town.
    As I crossed the street, I passed in front of the courthouse in the middle of the town square. Hanging above its steps was a large red, white, and blue banner announcing the annual Booneville Fourth of July Celebration. I paused and stared at the banner. Its festive flare seemed to mock me. Guess I wasn’t much in the mood for festivities. There just didn’t seem to be much to celebrate this year. With Halport closed, the town couldn’t even afford to shoot off a few lousy fireworks.
    Inside the First Federal Bank, I slid my government check across the counter—my last. I should have been saving more over the years. I kept telling Dawn that we were going to be fine, but truth was we weren’t. I’d survived Nam and the loss of both my parents, but none of it had scared me as much as what lay ahead. I stood to lose everything—my house, my truck, Dawn maybe. I should have been better prepared. I just never even saw this coming.
    “Hi, Larry. Deposit?” the teller asked, interrupting my thoughts. It was Sandy, from the plant, a single mother of two boys. At least I could be grateful that it was just Dawn and me. I couldn’t imagine being in this situation with kids to support.
    “No, just cash.” Rumor had it that the bank wasn’t doing too well.
    We made a little small talk as she counted out bills. After commenting about the weather, she worked her way into the same discussion we had every time I came to the bank. As usual she ended by saying, “Sure, the bank doesn’t pay nearly as well as Halport did, but Larry, a job’s a job. And I’m lucky to have this one.” Well, I had news for Sandy. Luck had nothing to do with it. She was working a job that paid half of what she used to make because some stinkin’ CEO decided that she didn’t matter…that her kids didn’t matter…that the whole damn town didn’t matter.
    I didn’t say any of that though. I just smiled politely, pocketed