Johnny be bad
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Johnny PulaskiChapter 25 free porn video
The week that the twins left for Ireland is when I met my "cousin" Tyler Tiplitski. I said cousin in quotes because Tyler is the grandson of my self-proclaimed aunt, Olga Swistak. In the circular logic of Olga and Nana, if Tyler is Olga's grandson, and she has declared me her nephew, then Tyler and I must be cousins. I met Tyler because Papa hired him as a favor to Aunt Olie. Tyler had just graduated from high school and was trying to decide on his future. Papa said he'd give the boy a try but there were no free rides at Pulaski Construction. Olie said she understood, and that Tyler was a hard worker, so that shouldn't be a problem.
I gotta tell you, Tyler Tiplitski was the most countrified person I've even seen not on 'The Beverly Hillbillies'. Tyler made Jethro Bodine look as if he were a worldly city slicker. My first clue to Tyler's nature was when he pulled up to the job site in a Black 4X4 Ford Ranger Pickup that was jacked up high enough to give you a nosebleed. The truck sported a set of serious off-road tires as tall as Cindi Frazier. Four spotlights were mounted on a roll bar behind the cab. A big aluminum dog box with a high swivel seat perched on top of it filled the truck's bed.
My second clue came when Tyler kicked open the truck's door and dropped to the ground. He was dressed head to toe in Realtree Mossy Oak camouflage. It was the first time I had ever seen a camo wife-beater t-shirt (I still need someone to explain the need for such an item.) The only splash of color on him was the Confederate Flag emblazoned on the front of his camo baseball cap and the words 'Get Er Done' stitched in red above the flag.
Tyler walked up to Papa and introduced himself in a most respectful voice.
"Mr. Pulaski?" When Papa nodded, Tyler continued. "Sir, I'm Tyler Tiplitski, thank you for hiring me, you won't regret it."
Papa shook his hand and introduced me. I stuck out my hand; Tyler grabbed it and pulled me into a crushing bear hug.
"Hey, Cuz, I've heard a lot about you from my Grammy."
Tyler was a stout young man; he stood about five-eleven and weighed over two hundred pounds. He had that blocky, weight lifters build.
When I could breath again I said, "Nice to meet you, Tyler."
"Call me Tater," he grinned, "everybody else does."
I liked Tater from the get go, he was a good guy. I'll bet you are wondering how a redneck like Tater could be from Palmdale, a city with the headquarters of two Fortune 500 corporations and the highest per capita ratio of millionaires in America. Easy answer, Tater wasn't from Palmdale proper, even though he had a Palmdale mailing address. Tater was from the small farming community of Spotsatula, about fifteen miles west of the city. Polish immigrants settled Spotsatula in the early twentieth century. Descendents of those settlers still farmed thousands of acres of cabbage, carrots, celery and onions.
Spotsatula enjoyed a special status with the county and state as an important segment of a diversified economy. Over two hundred square miles of that part of the county was zoned special agricultural. The Turner and Thornton (TnT) Ranch was on the eastern edge of Spotsatula. Thornton money and Turner political clout had kept land speculators and developers at bay.
Tater was the hard worker that Olga Swistak advertised. The boy was strong as an ox and had the stamina of a water buffalo. Papa was getting his money's worth. Tater was working for Papa because his parents were trying to get him to reconsider not going to college. That was why Tater ended up with all the hardest jobs; Papa was making sure he knew how hard some folks had to work. Tyler Tiplitski wasn't interested in going to college, he wanted to enlist in the Army and become a paratrooper. Even though he had a diploma, Tater couldn't enlist without his parents consent because he wouldn't turn eighteen until October.
Tater and Jethro got along famously, which made Papa like Tater even more. Tater had a couple of hunting dogs of his own and he thought Jethro would fit right in with them. Tater didn't know that the only thing Jethro would hunt was a place to lie down. Tater also met Cindi one day when she popped in to take me to lunch. Of course I invited Tater to lunch with us. The two became friends immediately, I think because they both had weird senses of humor, and because Tater loved Cindi's soft Tennessee drawl. Cindi told me later that she also made sure Tater only saw her as a friend by radiating that message using her empathic talent.
Tater also met the twins and Nina right before they left for Ireland. Nina brought them by where we were working on their way home from shopping. The twins were friendly and nice to Tater but they made it clear who their man was. They were especially affectionate because they were leaving in a couple of days. When they drove off Tater looked at me and shook his head ruefully.
"Cuz, those are some special women, they ain't the prettiest I've ever seen but they have something that makes them beautiful anyway. Shee-it, You are some kind of lucky so and so."
Nothing much I could say to that.
Speaking of Nina, she was still glowing from the early stages of her pregnancy, her clothes were starting to get snug in the waist but she wasn't showing yet. She said she was going to go public with her pregnancy while they were all in Ireland. I spent one evening a week with Nina; we usually got together on Tuesdays, her housekeeper's day off. Sometimes she would cook for me and other times she'd take me out. Nina and I had a pretty cool relationship, we were friends with benefits and she was my mentor on things in life I was embarrassed to ask anyone else. I knew I was special to her because she put aside Tuesdays for me even though she led a very busy life.
But back to Cousin Tater. Tater knew I was bummed because the twins had left, so he invited Cindi and I out to the farm to go varmint hunting. Tater even convinced Papa that it was a good idea for Jethro to go run with his dogs; sort of let Jethro rediscover his roots, as it were. According to Tater, getting rid of varmints, rabbits especially, was a chore that had to be done. If left unchecked, the rabbits multiplied like - well like rabbits - and they could inflict considerable damage on crops if left unchecked.
Saturday morning, bright and early, I picked up first Cindi, then Jethro. Cindi sat next to me while Jethro occupied the passenger seat. Jethro curled up with his head on Cindi's thigh and went to sleep as soon as we were out of Papa's driveway. We arrived at the Tiplitski farm just before eight in the morning. The Tiplitskis' house stood back about a quarter mile from the highway and the area between the highway and the house was planted in a variety of trees: oranges, palms, live oaks and magnolias. I found out later that the trees qualified the Tiplitskis for some state designation that helped reduce their taxes. The trees were sold to nurseries and landscape companies when they reached about three inches in diameter and another tree was planted in the sold tree's place.
I really liked the house; it was large and square with a ten-foot wide porch completely surrounding it.
Tater answered the door and introduced us to his folks. The Tiplitski parents were a nice clean-cut couple without a trace of Tater's thick accent. After introductions, Tater went back out to my truck with me to get Jethro. Jethro bounded around peeing on everything in sight as Tater, Cindi and I walked around the house. Set at least fifty yards behind the house were a couple of out buildings for farm machinery and a six-stall horse stable. The stable had a corral like, fenced in enclosure next to it.
Two of those wrinkled up, sad faced bloodhounds were lying under a big leafy fig tree in the back yard. Jethro saw them and went loping over to where they lay, ready to sniff some butt and make some new friends. The two bloodhounds, one black and tan and one brown, didn't even look up as Jethro capered around. They were so still, I was afraid they were dead.
"That's Junebug and Ladybug," Tater said proudly. "Wait until you see them in action, they are the best huntin' dogs in the county."
Cindi and I nodded our acceptance of his declaration, but I had to wonder about that, given their total lack of animation. Jethro couldn't figure it out either. He plopped down on his stomach, put his head on his crossed paws and just looked at them.
"I'll get out the four-wheelers in a few minutes and we'll go chase rabbits but first I want to introduce you to my little sister." Tater stopped walking then and regarded us seriously. "I have to warn you that Tonya is a little different than most girls. She doesn't talk much and likes horses a whole lot better than she likes people. She is going to the University of Florida in the fall to study large animal veterinary."
Tonya had her back to us brushing down a horse when we walked into the stable. Tonya was Tater's little sister only by virtue of being born five minutes later than him. She was at least as tall as her brother and not much lighter.
"Hey Skeeter, these are my friends I told you about," Tater said.
The girl stopped brushing and turned around. She was dressed simply in jeans and a plaid shirt, a curled up straw cowboy hat on her head. She had big, big sky blue eyes and dirty blond hair. Her cheekbones were high; her nose small and up turned and her mouth was wide and full lipped. She was big but she had a womanly figure. Tonya made me reconsider the term big beautiful woman, because up to that moment, I always thought the term referred to the big old gals grazing at the all you can eat buffet down at the Western Sizzler.
Tater continued his introductions, "This is my friend Cindi and our cousin, Johnny Pulaski."
Tonya nodded toward Cindi and then turned those baby blues on me. She fixed me in her gaze and it felt as if she were looking into my soul. I don't know how long I was lost in her eyes, but it felt like hours. Tater finally broke the spell.
"We're going hunting, can we borrow your four-wheeler?"
Tonya flicked her eyes towards her brother, "I'll go with you, grab my rifle while I finish brushing Star."
Tater looked surprised but quickly nodded. "Come on Johnny, you can help me carry the shooting irons."
When we were out of earshot of the barn Tater slapped me on the back.
"Damn Cuz, you are the first guy Skeeter ever joined when we went hunting. All the guys I ever bring out here moon over her but she just ignores them. She doesn't date, says all that boys want to do is get their hands on her ta-tas. You best be careful, she broke Billy Kessler's finger just for poking one of them."
"Don't worry Tater, I wouldn't do anything like that, I have girlfriends, remember. I like her for some reason though, she's very pretty."
"She ain't fat neither, us Tiplitskis' is all stout like that."
We came back out with two rifles and a shotgun. Tater and his sister had .22 automatics and Tater was lending me a single shot .410-caliber shotgun. (Why is a .410 barrel bore measured in caliber instead of gauge? Beats the hell out of me.) When we hit the porch Tater's two comatose dogs spotted the rifles, jumped up and started running around in circles baying loudly. Jethro thought that was more like it and enthusiastically joined them.
Tater led me out to another building and rolled up the overhead door. Inside the building were a few pieces of farm equipment and two all terrain vehicles, one small and sporty looking and one big heavy-duty model with a winch. Cindi and Tonya came in right behind us as Tater was securing the rifles and shotguns in scabbards attached to the ATVs. Tater climbed on the smaller machine and turned to me.
"You are going to have to ride with Skeeter because her 700 can carry more weight."
I nodded as Cindi climbed up behind him and they drove off. Tonya was still looking at me speculatively but she didn't say a word as she fired up her machine. I could tell just from the sound that her rig was a brute. Once she was backed out of the stall and turned around she stopped and I climbed on the back. If everything had stopped right there, it would have been great. Of course, it didn't, though, and the next few minutes turned into some of the most embarrassing of my life. I know that I redefined 'idiot' that day. Forever after then, some guy is going to do something indescribably stupid and every one around him is going to say, "Man, what a Pulaski that dude is."
So I'm astride the comfortable big seat of the big four-wheeler, my feet firmly on the ridged floorboards and my hands lightly on Tonya's waist. Tonya put the beast in gear and slams the thumb lever throttle wide open. We took off as if we were an F-18 being catapulted off an aircraft carrier. I yelped as I started falling backwards and grabbed on to Tonya to keep from falling off. Unfortunately, the easiest thing to grab on Tonya was her big old casabas, the very ones that cost poor Billy Kessler his finger. I realized my mistake immediately and let go of them as if they were radioactive. I let go just as Tonya released the throttle and hit the front brake. My head reversed direction and smacked nose first into the back of her head.
My proboscis had bled easily since Arturo Mendoza flattened it for me, so of course, I spouted blood like a stuck pig. At the same time my nose erupted, I fell side ways off the ATV because I wasn't holding onto Tonya anymore. I fell off the left side but my left hiking boot hung up on the grated floorboard and I twisted the crap out of my ankle. Then for good measure I landed on my left elbow, whacking my funny bone so hard my whole arm went numb. I looked and felt as if I'd been in a train wreck.
Tonya jumped off her Polaris and knelt beside me. Her big expressive blue eye were still captivating even through all the pain I had going on right then.
"I'm sorry Johnny, you startled me when you grabbed my puppies," she said.
I nodded. "Billy Kessler syndrome," I said.
She smiled for the first time; she had a beautiful smile. "What's hurt besides your nose?" she asked.
"My ankle, my elbow and my pride," I replied.
"Okay, squeeze your nose and tilt your head back. I'll go get my mom."
Mrs. Tiplitski, a shorter, more loquacious version of Tonya, came rushing out with a couple of large zip lock bags filled with ice. Mrs. Tiplitski was as efficient as a trauma surgeon, the result of treating farming accidents I guess. My nose had stopped bleeding and we were icing down my ankle when Tater and Cindi roared back up, Jethro right behind them, well ahead of Tater's hounds. Cindi was off the seat and kneeling beside me before Tater had come to a full stop. I assured Cindi I was all right then I stood up to test out my ankle. I had known enough not to take off my boot, and that coupled with the ice reduced any swelling. I took a couple of steps, and while it hurt enough to get my attention, I could still walk on it.
"See, I'm fine, nothing is broken so you don't have to shoot me," I said lightly.
Anyway, we mounted up and tried it again. This time I wrapped my arms firmly around Tonya's waist and away we went. We threaded our way between green fields on narrow dirt tractor trails until we came to an area where the tended fields abutted piney woods. Tater pulled over and turned off his machine, Tonya pulled up next to him and did the same. Tater explained that this worked better at night but basically what we were going to do is sit right there and let the dogs chase the rabbits out of the fields and into the cleared firebreak between us and the woods. We would then pick them off when they were out in the open. I nodded that I understood and he sent his dogs into the field.
Jethro looked confused about this turn of events. He followed the other dogs for a few yards but when he saw we weren't going too he came back and sat down next to me. Jethro thought it was great fun chasing after the ATVs so he was waiting for us to get moving again. He looked disappointed when we dismounted and started taking out the rifles and shotgun. Then he heard the other dogs baying and hauled ass after them. In minutes the dogs jumped a rabbit and Tater's trained hounds drove it towards us. Tater's dogs got the rabbit moving in the right direction and went to find more.
Jethro, however, saw a critter that resembled a cat and zoomed after it on full afterburners. No one had a shot at the rabbit because Jethro was dead on its ass as it bolted across the firebreak. The rabbit slipped through the fence and Jethro sailed over it. Tongue and ears flapping in the breeze, Jethro disappeared into the woods. I thanked my lucky stars for Jethro's GPS collar; if he didn't come back at least Papa could come out and track him down. As soon as Jethro disappeared, Junebug and Ladybug flushed out another rabbit. Tater took a shot at it when it hit the clearing and missed, but Tonya downed it mid hop.
Jethro returned after about five minutes, hopping the fence with a rabbit in his mouth that he deposited at Cindi's feet. We bagged four more rabbits that morning; I even managed to shoot one that both Tonya and Tater missed with their rifles. Tater collected the rabbits and we headed back to his house at about eleven-thirty for lunch. Tater said he'd skin and dress the rabbits, freeze them, and then cook them up for his dogs later. Tater was truly amazed that Jethro had run down that rabbit in the woods; he'd never seen a dog do that before. I didn't tell him that Jethro learned the skill chasing cats. He was disappointed that Jethro was gun shy. When the shooting started Jethro hid behind Cindi and wouldn't chase any more rabbits. I guess that's why he ended up in the animal shelter in the first place, not many hunters wanted a gun-shy dog.
I was still embarrassed by my earlier meltdown but no one seemed to be bothered by it besides me. Tonya didn't mention what really happened to anyone, I was relieved about that. I had an even healthier respect for her now after seeing her shoot; she was some woman. Even as we got to know her better she still didn't talk much. I don't think she initiated a single conversation with any of us the entire time we were ambushing rabbits. When we left, Tater, Cindi and the dogs went one way but Tonya took a different trail. She wanted to check on a couple of her horses that were grazing in a pasture on the other side of the farm.
When we parked next to the pasture fence, a mare with a small foal ambled over to us. Tonya opened up the front storage bin of her ATV and took out a baggie of carrot slices. We fed the mare carrots as the foal nursed on her. We stayed there about ten minutes. Tonya spoke gently to the horse and her foal but didn't say two words to me. I certainly saw what Tater said about her liking horses better than people. Still, she was a nice person and I didn't figure it was any sort of crime that she didn't have much to say. Heck, I've heard say that she was half way to being a perfect wife, you know: a big boobed nymphomaniac that doesn't talk much and owns a liquor store.
Virginia
- 20.11.2021
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