Hank had set off from Delaware days ago and as the meth high faded, exhaustion and hunger began to set in, he decided it was time for some well deserved R&R.
The big red lettering appeared on the horizon. “BILLY’S”
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Hank stepped out of the freshly painted royal blue truck cab with pride, his legs numb and his bladder full. He didn’t love trucking, but it paid a lot better than working at the old mustard mill back home. Hauling cargo across the country gave him the chance to see new places, and meet new people, it was a lonely road, but Billy’s had always been a beacon of light on his long journeys.
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Hank tucked his lumberjack shirt into his jeans, shlicked back his greasy hair and strolled over to the diner.
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‘I’ll have a Bud and BLT darlin’, I’m gonna drain the main vain, I’ll be back.’
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The door to the male toilets was hanging off its hinge, and a solid boot print impression sunk into the middle of the door aside the word ‘fuck’ written in capital letters. The floor was presumably tiled but black with cigarette ash, gum and grime from a lifetime of neglect, debauchery and ten minute trysts.
Graffiti in the toilets ranged from the usual scribblings
‘Larry was here’
‘for a great fuck call x’
‘Winona 4Ever’
‘I got bit at Billy’s 2/3/79’
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A low volume deviant Texan voice could be heard from one of the stalls.
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“It’s good water isn’t it bitch how do you like that, it’s fucking Christmas little lady, Christmas is cumming”
The cubicle flung open, and a morbidly obese trucker with jaundice let out a bellowing groan as he squeezed the last drop of his dignity onto an unenthused and meth addicted face.”
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What would usually be shocking for a non trucker didn’t phase Hank, it wasn’t uncommon to happen upon sex acts in the bathrooms at Billy’s. The trucker who’d just ejaculated was Burl, a friend of Hanks and a famous personality amongst truckers and gas station enthusiasts alike.
It was rumoured Burl had contracted an incurable form of Chlamydia on a long haul to Arkansas, and had knowingly been bare backing as many prostitutes at as many truck stops as he could as payback.
He had said once ‘Hank, I wanna leave my mark in this world, and it sure ain’t gonna be from delivering 200 chalk boards and chairs to Mississippi, no no, I’m gonna be remembered, and sterilise these women in the process.’
Hank remembered when women contract Chlamydia and cannot rid themselves of it their ovaries are eventually affected and they are left barren. Burl was a man of the world, and a thoughtful person, he said ‘Hank as much as I adore these gas station lovelies I just couldn’t bare to see a little junior skitter a, b and c runnin’ around. These whores pump em out like flys, and I won’t have it. This is an adult place for adult tastes, it’s no place for children.’
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Burl wasn’t the most attractive of men, his arms and legs were covered in thick black hair. His gut was distended and rotund, barely balancing on his short fat legs. Burl looked like a man everywhere except his head. His bulging eyes adorned a perpetually blushed child like face, reminiscent of a mythological Cherub gone wrong.
When confronted by less than polite truckers about his appearance, Burl would always laugh it off and say, ‘these women keep me young, I’ve got the face I deserve, that of a child.’
Hank knew it was more likely Burl was born with fetal alcohol syndrome, but didn’t have the heart to tell him his boyish cherub looks were a fault and not a feature.
What Burl lacked in physical attractiveness he made up for in body count. He’d nailed nearly every gas station lady from Boston to Baton Rouge. Everytime Hank had run into him there’d always be some new story.
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‘I nailed a good lookin’ she thing down in New Orleans, the little lady sucked so hard she almost be the death of me.’
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