vapros
Verified Member
Bignoot County is the second largest county in the state, only a little smaller than Jeff Davis County but with a lot less people. Nobody knows exactly how many. Cutman is the county seat of Bignoot County and the courthouse is there as well as the office of Sheriff Elray Pfister, who also has a substation over in Bonham and one in Fairly Wells, where Pfister’s Chief Deputy Vernie Mills has set up shop, so to speak, in the old bus station. Greyhound Lines’ only scheduled stop now is at Cutman, although the drivers are pretty flexible about pulling over where needed.
If you take State Road 33 northwest out of Fairly Wells it is only a matter of seven or eight miles until County Road 8A branches off to the left and then maybe a quarter of a mile after you turn off you will reach Charlet and Daughter Mortuary and Car Wash on the right. There is a good-sized painted sign on the road to be sure you don’t miss it but a lot has changed in recent years. Berryman Charlet had been the only mortician in northern Bignoot County since right after civil rights, so when he passed away in 2001 they had to send him all the way down to Cutman for processing and the Charlet Mortuary died with him.
In spite of the impressive earning power of a funeral business Charlene Charlet had something better in mind. Charlene is the daughter cited on the painted sign and she has legally been Charlene Charlet Chevelle since her marriage right after Viet Nam. Within sixty days the walls of the viewing rooms had been knocked down and the stainless steel furniture and implements in the back room had been sold to a funeral director in Barfield County. The people at the Bignoot County Courthouse have allowed Charlene to renew the business license annually, mostly because the car wash is still in operation, leased to a man named Freeman, stepson of August Brice of Fairly Wells.
The big front room now has a bar and a number of tables as well as a bandstand large enough for a four-piece combo and a dance floor large enough for twenty-two large dancers or thirty smaller ones. The decor is semi-mortuary and features several coffins and a number of headstones. All the windows feature black velvet drapes. The back room has become a kitchen, with two cooks in the daytime and four at night. A number of local patrons refuse to order from the kitchen, declaring that the food tastes funny. There is no truth at all to the rumor about embalming fluid but you can’t tell that to some people.
Charlene was born and raised in the family living quarters on the second floor but has since built a fine house at the rear of the property. The upstairs is reached by means of a stairway tucked away behind some plastic pot plants and palm trees. The walls that used to define the viewing rooms in the funeral home apparently have made their way up the stairs, and now are back in service. The second floor, where Charlene used to host sleepovers in her bedroom, is now equipped with a series of much smaller bedrooms in which sleepovers are not allowed. Berryman Charlet would no doubt be horrified if he could see his funeral home today. As everyone knows, Charlene’s place of business is a sporting house with a fluid roster of attendants of varying talents, fee schedules and ground rules.
Some might have failed to make the cut at Hooters. No doubt some are students while still others might be just traveling and pausing to make some expense money. Without exception they answer to Charlene – boss, bookkeeper and bouncer. Before beginning any activity they come by her station to say ‘Mark me, Charlene, I’m going upstairs’. After nearly fifteen years of operation at the new Car Wash, this battle cry is known to a lot more people than you might expect and you can hear it on any street in Bignoot County and even beyond. And the former mortuary has been mentioned in more than three thousand wisecracks about stiffs, some funnier than others.
Now Charlene has a daughter of her own, a fine-looking child of some twenty years who is forbidden to show her face at the sporting house. Her name is Cherie and she works as a hairdresser and lives in a modest house her mother bought for her – on the far side of Fairly Wells. Cherie sings in the choir at the Special Deliverance Baptist Church and works out three times each week at the gym and maintains a well-stacked weight of a hundred and fifteen pounds. Charlene is rightly proud of Cherie.
Wednesday and Thursday are the slowest nights at the Car Wash, since many of the regulars are aware that Friday is the day on which they change the sheets. I don’t care what Charlene says. Anyway, on a Thursday night in October Chief Deputy Vernie Mills dropped in at the joint to speak to Charlene privately.
“Charlene,” said Vernie, “I came to let you know that Roy Grant Barnes was killed this evening. Somebody hit him from behind with a shotgun and I thought I should come and tell you in person instead of –“
Charlene frowned at Vernie. “Who the hell is Roy Grant Barnes, Vernie? Do I know him?”
“Well, you likely don’t, because I believe he lives in Bonham – I mean he used to live in Bonham before he got shot.”
“Why are you telling me all this, Vernie?” demanded Charlene.
“Because right this minute he is in Cherie’s house and probably halfway to rigor mortis by now. I’m the onliest one that knows so far, but I got to report it and get the EMS people out there before much longer. I figured you needed to know.”
“Shit, gimme a minute to get my coat and get somebody to keep the book until I get back. What the hell was Roy Grant doing at Cherie’s house, anyway?”
“I don’t know for sure, Charlene, but I can tell you he was shot in the back and there ain’t any bullet holes in his shirt.”
If you take State Road 33 northwest out of Fairly Wells it is only a matter of seven or eight miles until County Road 8A branches off to the left and then maybe a quarter of a mile after you turn off you will reach Charlet and Daughter Mortuary and Car Wash on the right. There is a good-sized painted sign on the road to be sure you don’t miss it but a lot has changed in recent years. Berryman Charlet had been the only mortician in northern Bignoot County since right after civil rights, so when he passed away in 2001 they had to send him all the way down to Cutman for processing and the Charlet Mortuary died with him.
In spite of the impressive earning power of a funeral business Charlene Charlet had something better in mind. Charlene is the daughter cited on the painted sign and she has legally been Charlene Charlet Chevelle since her marriage right after Viet Nam. Within sixty days the walls of the viewing rooms had been knocked down and the stainless steel furniture and implements in the back room had been sold to a funeral director in Barfield County. The people at the Bignoot County Courthouse have allowed Charlene to renew the business license annually, mostly because the car wash is still in operation, leased to a man named Freeman, stepson of August Brice of Fairly Wells.
The big front room now has a bar and a number of tables as well as a bandstand large enough for a four-piece combo and a dance floor large enough for twenty-two large dancers or thirty smaller ones. The decor is semi-mortuary and features several coffins and a number of headstones. All the windows feature black velvet drapes. The back room has become a kitchen, with two cooks in the daytime and four at night. A number of local patrons refuse to order from the kitchen, declaring that the food tastes funny. There is no truth at all to the rumor about embalming fluid but you can’t tell that to some people.
Charlene was born and raised in the family living quarters on the second floor but has since built a fine house at the rear of the property. The upstairs is reached by means of a stairway tucked away behind some plastic pot plants and palm trees. The walls that used to define the viewing rooms in the funeral home apparently have made their way up the stairs, and now are back in service. The second floor, where Charlene used to host sleepovers in her bedroom, is now equipped with a series of much smaller bedrooms in which sleepovers are not allowed. Berryman Charlet would no doubt be horrified if he could see his funeral home today. As everyone knows, Charlene’s place of business is a sporting house with a fluid roster of attendants of varying talents, fee schedules and ground rules.
Some might have failed to make the cut at Hooters. No doubt some are students while still others might be just traveling and pausing to make some expense money. Without exception they answer to Charlene – boss, bookkeeper and bouncer. Before beginning any activity they come by her station to say ‘Mark me, Charlene, I’m going upstairs’. After nearly fifteen years of operation at the new Car Wash, this battle cry is known to a lot more people than you might expect and you can hear it on any street in Bignoot County and even beyond. And the former mortuary has been mentioned in more than three thousand wisecracks about stiffs, some funnier than others.
Now Charlene has a daughter of her own, a fine-looking child of some twenty years who is forbidden to show her face at the sporting house. Her name is Cherie and she works as a hairdresser and lives in a modest house her mother bought for her – on the far side of Fairly Wells. Cherie sings in the choir at the Special Deliverance Baptist Church and works out three times each week at the gym and maintains a well-stacked weight of a hundred and fifteen pounds. Charlene is rightly proud of Cherie.
Wednesday and Thursday are the slowest nights at the Car Wash, since many of the regulars are aware that Friday is the day on which they change the sheets. I don’t care what Charlene says. Anyway, on a Thursday night in October Chief Deputy Vernie Mills dropped in at the joint to speak to Charlene privately.
“Charlene,” said Vernie, “I came to let you know that Roy Grant Barnes was killed this evening. Somebody hit him from behind with a shotgun and I thought I should come and tell you in person instead of –“
Charlene frowned at Vernie. “Who the hell is Roy Grant Barnes, Vernie? Do I know him?”
“Well, you likely don’t, because I believe he lives in Bonham – I mean he used to live in Bonham before he got shot.”
“Why are you telling me all this, Vernie?” demanded Charlene.
“Because right this minute he is in Cherie’s house and probably halfway to rigor mortis by now. I’m the onliest one that knows so far, but I got to report it and get the EMS people out there before much longer. I figured you needed to know.”
“Shit, gimme a minute to get my coat and get somebody to keep the book until I get back. What the hell was Roy Grant doing at Cherie’s house, anyway?”
“I don’t know for sure, Charlene, but I can tell you he was shot in the back and there ain’t any bullet holes in his shirt.”
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