I says “Eddie, what time is it?”
He says it’s one in the morning.
Mark guffawed. “So it’s one a.m. and you guys are going to go cut the light with loppers?”
“That’s right.”
“Holy shit.”
“Rock ‘n’ roll, dude,” the stranger says. “Balls out and no fear. That was the deal. Live hard, die young and leave a good-looking corpse.”
“If you say so,” I interrupted.
“So here we go,” he continued, explaining how he and Eddie parked in a secluded parking lot behind an apartment complex, got out and crested a small hill. “We crouch behind a row of bushes and look down below us about fifty yards out. Fire Station No. 5 is bathed under one-thousand watts of halide glory, white as the moon.”
“Wouldja look at it?” Eddie exclaimed. “Just look at it.”
“I’m looking, Eddie,” I says. “I’m looking.”
He opened his bag and took out a ski mask, fitted it over his head and adjusted the eye holes. Then he reached back in and pulled out rubber gloves and a huge pair of loppers.
“Holy shit!” Mark said.
To this I added: “Your friend Eddie was nuts!”
“Oh I know,” the stranger said. “And you can be sure I asked Eddie if he was sure about this. Of course Eddie said Hell yeah, Dude, Fuckin’ A and buds as big as your fist. And then he was off, creepy-crawling low and scrambling across the field to the light pole standing on the edge of the parking lot.
“He wasted no time when he got there. Kneeling at the base of the pole, he unscrewed the four screws holding the access plate, then removed it. And there was the electrical cord, that great spinal column of power that brought electricity to the bulb above him.”
The stranger explained how Eddie looked up to the light and got temporarily blinded, then quickly looked back down again, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.
“The power of that light was incredible for Eddie,” he said. “I couldn’t help but think of Icarus . . . or a moth, perhaps – a moth to the flame.”
He said he then watched Eddie open the wooden lopper handles wide and push the steel jaws into the hole to cut the cord.
“From my vantage point behind the bushes in the distance I held my breath and crossed my fingers, saying Go Eddie go! to myself,” he said.
The stranger paused there and shook his head. “Fuck!” he exclaimed.
“Jeez, Mister,” Mark implored. “What happened?”
“When Eddie cut the cord there was a huge pop like a twelve gauge shotgun blast followed by instant darkness.”
“Holy shit!” I exclaimed.
He paused a moment before going on. “Well, I waited and heard nothing. So I began hollering Eddie’s name. Still hearing nothing, I ran down to the pole, and there was Eddie all passed out. I was shocked that firefighters weren’t streaming out of the station because that light made one helluva noise going off.
“And man, I am like freaking out. So I grab Eddie under the pits and I’m trying to drag him off toward the bushes and I’m not even halfway there and now firefighters are streaming out of the station toward me. Oh, and there’s some cop sirens, too. They’re coming closer and closer.”
“Jeez Louise and Holy Cow!” Mark shouted.
“God damn! That’s a story! I cried, pouring him more beer. “So what happened?”
“Well, you know after all that they were waiting back at my place for me and had torn up the garden. My attorney later said he tried to get me in drug court but the cops had been busting so many growers that drug court was full.”
“So then what?”
His mouth turned to a straight line then and I could almost hear the molars grinding when he shrugged and said, “I had to do three-to-five in the state pen.”
“Wait a minute. How big was your garden?”
“Eddie and I had four vegetative plants about two feet tall each. So I ended up doing a year for each plant.”
“May God have mercy on your soul!” I said. “That’s so hard to believe.”
“It was indeed,” he said. “And days go by so slowly in jail.”
“And those plants hadn’t even flowered yet?” Mark asked.
“Nope.”
“My sweet Jesus,” he said. “I’m growing six plants legally in my basement right now because, you know, Colorado.”
“But didn’t you and Eddie get amnestied with all the other marijuana growers in jail when the Democrats took over?” I asked.
“I wish,” he said. “Remember -- I went down when the Republicans were in charge. The four years were just for the plants. I copped another twenty for Eddie.”
He no sooner said that when the temperature, which had been pleasant, turned cold again; so cold people began filing inside.
But Mark and I were transfixed.
“Eddie?” we asked together.
“I don’t know how many amps Eddie ate that night,” he said. “But I was dragging off a dead man. When the cops got me they charged me with accessory to murder, said I helped kill him.”
“What the fuck!” I exclaimed.
“You fellers get it?” he asked. “I just got out of jail last night. I been locked up for twenty-four years in Nebraska.”
And Mark and I are just freaking out, shaking our heads back and forth.
“Dude, I never heard of anything so unfair in all my life!” I cried.
And then some thunder-boomers bigger than the last ones came thudding down the street again: Boom! Boom! Boom! one after another like a string of bombs rolling over us, and before we could even stand a cold hard rain came tearing down.
I was almost in the door when I heard a huge ke-rack! and turned just in time to see the tree across the street split in two by a lightning bolt, then blown over by one of the strongest winds I’ve ever seen. I’m telling you it just wasn’t natural. Not at all. Trashcans and everything rolling down the street. Windows breaking.
Sure everyone inside was talking about the mess of weather and taking pictures through the windows. I turned in all directions looking for the stranger, but didn’t see him. Maybe he went to the restroom. I could see the door from where I stood, so I kept my eye on it. Guys came and went, but not the stranger.
“Hey Mark,” I says. “Seen that old fellow we were just talking to?”
“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he replied with mild bewilderment.
“Did we ever get his name?”
“Don’t think so. Don’t believe he ever said.”
So Mark and I sat there wondering if that guy we met existed at all or if we just imagined him out of some kind of stony-ass boredom. I stared at my shoes a good bit before finally saying: “Well this ended up being a strange night.”
Mark said nothing.
I looked up at him. He was still puzzled.
“Mark, I’m not sure what just happened,” I said. “Are you?”
“No.” he replied. “And that old guy . . . he just disappeared.”
“Damn, Dude,”