When Meat barged through my front door this morning, I knew he was having an existential crises. He didn't, but I did.
I was just finishing off my first cup of coffee and about to chomp into a hard-boiled egg. Meat was pulling on a PBR.
"What's the matter Meat? You're looking scattered this morning."
Meat slumped onto the couch. "I'm sure you've heard the news."
"What news?"
"You know SJ, that petition you're behind. The petition to make us wet."
"Hey, all I did was sign it. I figured you'd be all for a beer with pizza down at Time Out."
Meat downed the remainder of his beverage. "It's like this, I'd love to buy a drink in Elkhorn, but if we go wet my Mama's gonna move."
"But Meat, it wouldn't be wet, it'd just be moist. Your Mom isn't going to leave!"
Meat wasn't listening. His relationship with his family is complicated. He walks a fine line between the dog house and good graces. Depends on which foot he's leaning on. He comes from a line of holy rollers not known for getting out much.
Meat's mama is a saint, just ask her. There's not a sin she's not against you sinning. Her sanctimony softens some when it comes to Meat since he's flesh and is respectful enough to live across town. But everyone else's transgressions are her own cross to bear.
"You've done it to me this time SJ, how can I vote wet?"
"Let me talk to her Meat, dial her number."
I tossed him my cell phone. "It won't work" he said, punching in her number anyway. He held it up to his ear.
"Mama...no Mama, I didn't sign any petition! I swear Mama...ask SJ, he wants to talk to you."
He tossed the phone back. I could hear Meat's mom haranguing him as it flipped end over end toward me. It sounded like a wah-wah pedal.
"Hello..."
"...and I swear son, if I hear..."
"Hello, it's SJ!"
"Oh, Lord have mercy. What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you about the petition. Meat thinks you'll move if it passes. Just tell him you wouldn't do that."
"I can't lie to my only child."
"You'd move?"
"Let me tell you something Mister SJ Ruth. I don't go where alcohol is legal. Never. I've never been to Lexington. I've never been to Haysi. I can't remember the last time I was in Pikeville. And since I made it to my 80s, I'm not gonna risk my front row seat in heaven. I remember how Elkhorn was before."
I look across the room at Meat. He's pulls a cold can from his pocket, opens it and takes a long drink. I guess the look on my face told him all he needed.
"But you said you never went where it was wet. What about Elkhorn?"
"We lived in Hellier then. My brothers came to Elkhorn and I'd warn them they'd die and go to hell. Bet they wish they'd listened to me now!"
"Are you saying they died because they went to a wet place?"
"No, I'm saying they're in hell for it."
It's hard to argue with that kind of logic. So I tossed the phone back to Meat and went looking for another cup of coffee.