Lights Out at Bill's Place

By Cayce B. Shelton

During the early years of World War II my parents went to war. My brother and I went to my mother's family. Being dropped off in a strange place makes a person more attentive to his environment. So I was, especially when Granny and Grandpa were at odds.

Granny was a full-blooded German, big of bone and hefty of flesh. I don't like to say she was fat, but she did weigh about two hundred fifty pounds. After birthing twelve children and raising the four that lived, Granny was not a little woman; neither was she a weak woman. Granny was strong enough to handle any challenge.

Grandpa was a short, skinny half-breed Cherokee, tough as nails and mean as a bear with a sore tail. He didn't say much, but you had better listen when and if he spoke. Grandpa always enjoyed a little snort once in a while. Every other month or so, Grandpa would dress up to go out to drink with his men friends.

On one of these outings, Grandpa must have made Granny mad just before he left. I was dozing off, while Granny ironed clothes when suddenly Granny set the iron down, hollered at me to get my brother into the car and grabbed her purse. I followed her as she waddled out to the Model A.

Since Granny never drove at night, I wondered where we were going so late at night. As we turned the corner into the parking area of Bill's Place, the favorite drinking hole of Grandpa and his pals, I could see into the future. The building before us was a simple frame house, built on concrete piers about three feet above the ground. I did not say anything as Granny parked the car and got out. My heart was in my throat as Granny waddled to the three steps up to the screen door. I giggled a little in anticipation of seeing the small house explode.

The house did not explode, but my anticipation was rewarded within minutes. Amid very loud curses and screams, the whole house seemed to shake. In a flash, a man came flying, head first, through the window into the parking lot. I saw him hit the ground and roll, lifeless, just as the screen door burst apart. Two men, their arms and legs tangled together, came through the screen door. As they stumbled on the small porch, one of them tripped, and they both fell down the three steps. One of the men got up and ran off; the other man lay still until a fellow thrown headfirst through the broken screen door landed on him. The noise inside the house was slacking off as more men came through the windows and doors to lie still on the ground or run away.

Soon, the house was still. I waited, watching and holding my breath. I giggled again, out of relief when I saw Granny waddle through the doorway, pushing the broken screen door aside. Granny was dragging Grandpa behind her, her fist in the collar of his shirt. I slid down in the seat and hid. Grandpa looked still and lifeless. Granny dragged him to the car and pushed him into the seat.

I sneaked a peek out the window as Granny drove off. Before we turned the corner toward home I saw the last glimmer of light in Bill's Place flicker and go out.