{"id":311,"date":"2016-08-16T14:11:53","date_gmt":"2016-08-16T19:11:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/?p=311"},"modified":"2023-02-24T14:46:59","modified_gmt":"2023-02-24T20:46:59","slug":"king-of-dirt-by-will-brooks-art-by-helen-long","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/2016\/08\/16\/king-of-dirt-by-will-brooks-art-by-helen-long\/","title":{"rendered":"King of Dirt by Will Brooks, art by Helen Long"},"content":{"rendered":"

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KING OF DIRT\u00a0<\/b><\/h1>\n

by Will Brooks with art by Helen Long<\/strong><\/p>\n

Just the appearance of the truck made me feel dirty. The grubby yellow paint gave little hint to the fact that the truck had started out white. I walked around the truck, being careful to stay upwind. On the driver\u2019s side door was a trail of what looked like dried dirty water, which on closer inspection was revealed to be tobacco spit. The door handle was grimy to my touch. The smell made my nose hairs curl as I opened the door. Trash completely filled the passenger side like some filthy companion.<\/p>\n

\u201cClifford sure did leave us a mess,\u201d I said, pinching my nose with my fingers and looking at Mike.<\/p>\n

\u201cUs,\u201d he said, lifting his eyebrows high onto his forehead, \u201cI\u2019m afraid you\u2019re shit out of luck if you think I\u2019m helping you with that.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t cuss him. I didn\u2019t want to touch it either, but I needed the truck. I found a trash can and started cleaning.<\/p>\n

I stood there picking through the rubbish that ranged from old scratch-off lottery tickets to dirty underwear, all of it making me gag. All this from the dirtiest man I\u2019ve ever known. He was hired as a farmhand to assist his aging father, who was already our farmhand. He\u00a0had lived with his mother and father, and they seemed to make sure he had kept reasonably clean. However, when his mother had passed away and his father entered the nursing home, he was on his own. His filthiness went from grade C to grade A.<\/p>\n

Everyone in town knew and considered him the village idiot. He didn\u2019t know any different. He just went through life lazily, living for the next paycheck.<\/p>\n

The reason why my father kept him around was, to my young mind, unreasonable. Clifford was the idlest person I had ever known in my short life. I remember my father sending me and Clifford to work on the farm equipment. I knew what needed to be done, and upon arriving at the job site set in to change the hydraulic filter on a tractor. Clifford found himself a seat on an empty bucket and dug in his pocket to retrieve a bag of Durango Chew. Dipping his grungy, coal-black fingers into the bag, he produced a golf-ball-sized chunk of chew. Wadding the chunk into his toothless mouth, he swirled it around with his tongue like an old Jersey cow. He then spat a tar-colored solution in between his Velcro tennis shoes. I\u2019d ask him to hand me a tool from underneath the tractor. He\u2019d let out a small groan of displeasure and coarsely hand me what I\u2019d asked for. The day was filthy hot so, believing I wouldn\u2019t get any work out of him, I decided to send him for a soda.<\/p>\n

\u201cClifford, I need some paper towels… And, while you\u2019re out, stop by Casey\u2019s and get some sodas,\u201d I told him as I climbed out from underneath the tractor. I wiped my hands on an old, dirty shop towel and removed some cash from my wallet. I handed him the money, and he stood up off his bucket and limped off to the white farm truck we had lent him. The truck roared to life, and Clifford jugged his way down the driveway. A big eruption of tobacco spit came from the rolled-down window as the truck rounded the corner out of sight.<\/p>\n

\u201cClifford \u2018Dirt\u2019 King… The dirtiest man I\u2019ve ever known,\u201d I said, climbing back underneath the tractor. \u201cWell, at least it won\u2019t smell like a wet dog in here for a while.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Clifford finally returned, he handed me a Coke and the paper towels.\u00a0\u201cClifford, you know I drink Dr. Pepper. What\u2019s this?\u201d\u00a0\u201cWell, I would\u2019ve sworn you\u2019d said Coke,\u201d he stated, kind of shaking his head. I took the\u00a0Coke, opened it, and took a long pull. It still tasted good, and I noticed Clifford studying me. I put the Coke down and stared back, noticing he didn\u2019t have a Coke.<\/p>\n

\u201cCliff, where\u2019s yours?\u201d I asked, taking a breath and another sip from the Coke.<\/p>\n

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\u201cWell\u2019s, you said just to get one\u2019s for yourself,\u201d he said, taking his place back on the empty bucket. I couldn\u2019t believe him. I had handed him a five-dollar bill, plenty of money for three pops.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I didn\u2019t know I had to tell you to buy one too. I thought that was kind of implied as standard operations around here,\u201d I said, becoming a little defensive. He shrugged his shoulders and spat on the ground.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s how the day went. I finished changing the liquids on the tractor, and Clifford sat. I wasn\u2019t mad about it; the job seemed easier if he just stayed out of the way.<\/p>\n

That evening I told Dad about Clifford not buying himself a Coke. Dad just smiled and shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Clifford: dirty as a dog and as loyal as one too,\u201d he said, taking a bite of potato, \u201cCliff may be lazy and dirty, but he\u2019s the kindest-hearted chap around.\u201d<\/p>\n

Three years later, I was thinking of my father\u2019s words as I power-washed the inside of the old white farm truck. In the time I knew Clifford, he had never said a cross word about anyone. Clifford befriended anyone, like some neighborhood mutt.<\/p>\n

Clifford\u2019s lack of self-care led to his developing diabetes; he didn\u2019t change his diet, and no one was able to ensure he took his medicine. His legs and feet swelled up to the point that he had trouble walking, and his Velcro tennis shoes barely stayed clasped shut. Every bit of physical labor had been a huge mental task for Clifford before; now, it had truly turned into a physical battle.<\/p>\n

My family helped all it could. Clifford had good health insurance and was given time off to see his doctor. But he became lazier and less steadfast with what minor tasks we assigned him. And his health kept failing.<\/p>\n

During this period in early November, my family spent the weekend hunting deer on our farm. Clifford was never seen. The next week he turned in false hours, claiming he fed cows that weekend.<\/p>\n

I think it was hard for my uncle to fire him. Whoever is hired by our family usually ends up feeling like family, but it had to be done. He handed over his keys, and my dad drove him to his brother-in-law\u2019s house.<\/p>\n

I was told he laid down on the couch and wouldn\u2019t get up. When they finally did get him to the doctor, the doctor declared him incompetent of self-care. He was taken to a local nursing home. From there they bathed him, monitored his medicine, and watched his diet. His health improved, so much that my grandmother didn\u2019t recognize him when she came to visit. He even got a girlfriend, a patient with Down\u2019s syndrome also under the care of the nursing home.<\/p>\n

The truck slowly released the grit and grime Clifford had created on the truck. The seat was forever soiled, and we replaced it with another from the local salvage yard. But no matter how much I cleaned, the truck smelled, not a run-for-the-hills smell, but just enough last shards of funk that when someone new got in for the first time, they\u2019d ask:<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that smell?\u201d<\/p>\n

In spite of Clifford\u2019s attempt to make the truck useless, I drove the Ford for years before it finally burned a valve. And Clifford\u2019s last memento was scrapped.<\/p>\n

Although Clifford\u2019s health improved, some stains don\u2019t wash out easily. Diabetes even made it necessary to remove one of his legs. After the surgery he developed pneumonia and died. He was fifty-seven.<\/p>\n

THE END<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Will Brooks\u00a0received his\u00a0bachelor\u2019s degree from Drury University, with a major in creative writing and a minor in business. He\u00a0currently works for his\u00a0family\u2019s propane company. Will enjoys many outdoor activities (hunting being a\u00a0favorite pastime).\u00a0He\u00a0lives with his\u00a0wife, Sesily, and their son Bradshaw,\u00a0on the family\u00a0farm in a house that was built with lumber harvested and milled right on the acreage\u00a0over 60\u00a0years ago. Brooks\u00a0is\u00a0member of the Missouri Writers Guild, and his\u00a0work has appeared or is forthcoming in\u00a0Pencil Box Press, Ignatian Literary Review, Critical Pass Review,<\/i>\u00a0and\u00a0The Penmen Review<\/i>.<\/p>\n

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[vc_row][vc_column][vc_single_image image=”314″ img_size=”full”][vc_column_text] KING OF DIRT\u00a0 by Will Brooks with art by Helen Long Just the appearance of the truck made me feel dirty. The grubby yellow paint gave little hint to the fact that the truck had started out white. I walked around the truck, being careful to stay upwind. On the driver\u2019s side…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":313,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[937,957],"tags":[40,41,39],"class_list":["post-311","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-ozarkwriters","category-sotoevent","tag-king-of-dirt","tag-original-ozark-art","tag-ozark-storytelling","category-937","category-957","description-off"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/311","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=311"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/311\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10719,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/311\/revisions\/10719"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/313"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=311"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=311"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stateoftheozarks.net\/showcase\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=311"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}