Cletus T. Broshus & The Blue Ridge Beast: Chapter Two

CTB-BRBeast-logoFriends, a word before we get to the business... Back up, baclk up, back up... I cannot stress this enough..

That public service annoucement out of the way, The Weekly Constitutional is pleased to bring you the continuing adventures of Cletus T. Broshus, redneck, pot head, monster hunter… Only he doesn't quite know it… not yet… 

Our story began with a man named Lester and his wild and wooly tales pf lizard men and ghostly threats.. But it wasd his mention of a single name, "Cletus T. Broshus" that mattered the most to Darren, a paranormal investigator obsessed with the goings of at a massacre at a strip club a year ago in Florida. Not to mention the tragic ends of the Birchum men at the claws of a mysterious ferocious beast we talked abiout before... But more about that later…

For now, let’s sit back… relax… maybe spark yourself a little green and enjoy Chapter one of Cletus T. Broshus & the Blue Ridge Beast… 


Cletus T. Broshus & the Blue Ridge Beast 

Chapter Two:

The Girl Slingin' Que at the Piggie Hut

 


3-15-16-ctbbrbch2-piggie


Six months later...


Darren was tired. He had been driving most of the way to Blue Ridge, one of the conditions Chris had when agreeing to make the drive up from New Orleans. He was the only one willing to make the trip, Andy and Steve still bitter from their last trip to the Carolinas. Darren was glad to have Chris riding shotgun; happy to not have to spend the weekend alone... Especially given his plan. He hadn't run it by Chris yet, knowing better than to bring it up to him beforehand. Better to spring it on him, he thought; knowing apologies always came off easier than permission. 

"I really appreciate you coming along, Chris," Darren said to his friend and brother in law, his focus on the road keeping him from noticing the light sleep Chris had fallen into. He had been nodding in and out of it for a bit now; the miles starting to drag as they neared their destination. 

"What was that?" Chris sleepily replied, started at the sound of his name. He looked uncomfortable, his wide, soft frame contorting itself into the seat as he slept. 

"Thank you for coming," Darren repeated, taking a drag off his electric cigarette. He hated using it, but it was Chris' second stipulation (and easily his most unreasonable, if you were to ask Darren). 

"See you're still sucking the robot dick." Chris noted, rubbing sleep from his eyes as they neared their destination. 

"Figured by now you would have told me to fuck myself, seeing as we are far enough from home."

"A deal's a deal, right?" Darren said, double checking some directions he had on slip of paper with his navigator's location. 


"This deal was also supposed to include barbecue," Chris replied. 

"Working on it as we speak..." Darren said, mentally repeating the final steps to their journey. 

"Heard this place has the best pulled pork in the state..." He continued, slowly gliding along the lanes as his exit appeared. 

"Great. Fucking starving, man. So we eat and then drive out to scout the location?" 

"About that..." Darren started, nervously, taking the exit and following the rest of his directions. 

"There might be a detour, if things go right..." 

"Things? What things? Why are there always things with you, Darren?" Chris said, his tone more annoyed than shock. He had already endured years of these little detours and side stories... He knew better than to fight it by now.

"It's just this one tiny, little thing... We should be able to do it while we eat, if we're lucky. " he said, pulling to a stop in front of a road side barbecue joint. 

"Pinkie's Piggie Hut?" Chris asked, unsure of what to make of the destination. 

"I lied about my motives for coming here, Chris; not the food. Lucky for you, the lady we need to see slings 'cue." He smiled a cocky, devil may care smile as he climbed out of the car. Chris shook his head in exasperation, getting out of the car as well. 

"You're buying me supper too, you lying sack of shit." He called to his friend as he trotted lightly, the hours sitting in the car making the movements more difficult that they should have been. 

 

The restaurant used to be a house before being converted into a barbecue joint. The redesign was more noticeable from the inside than out; the several additions to the building camouflaged by the brightly painted pig themed decorations, giving the outside into a more traditional restaurant look. But inside it was obvious the restaurant was cut within the floor plan of a standard American home. 

"Welcome to Pinkie's Piggie Hut," said the girl by the door. She was pretty and young and had a slight lilt to her voice that made the hair of Darren's arms stand up. He smiled as she greeted them, eyes creepily tracing down her young form until he noticed her baby bump (or bulge, as it were; the girl showing rather obviously). It drew him back a bit, the reality of a girl as young as her being as pregnant as she was killing whatever Lolita fantasies he was building up in his head. 

She escorted them to their table, handing them menus as they took their seats.

"Your server will be with you shortly," she said, starting to move off. 

"Oh, excuse me... Do you happen to know if Anne is working today?" 

"Anne?" She echoed back, slightly confused. 

"Yes, a Anne Marie Crosby... Might she be working today?" 

"Oooh, Dixie. Yea... She's working a different section. She a friend of yours?" the girl asked, giving the pair a quick once over. 

"One could say," Darren replied, butterflies starting to stir in his guts. He glanced over to Chris, his partner oblivious to anything else beyond the menu he was examining. 

"Ok, well I'll go ahead and pass you to her. Angie's fixing to go on break as it is... Better off keeping her light as it is," she continued, trailing off as she waddled back to her perch out front. 

"Ok, the girl is here..." Darren said to Chris excited, starting to glance at the menu himself. 

"What girl? The pregnant jailbait at the door?" Chris replied, not looking up from his studies. 

"No, Anne... Or Dixie, as the case may be... The girl I came here to try and talk to." 

"Is she a Facebook crush?" 

"No. Her name came up while I was researching that Cletus T. Broshus guy Lester told us about a few months back..." He said, muffling the name of Cletus T. Broshus as he uttered it. 

"This bullshit again?" Chris said, annoyed as he looked up from the menu in protest, his voice raised enough to draw the eye of the few patrons sitting near by. 

"It wasn't on the docket originally..." Darren back peddled, hoping to right his ship.

"Not even the reason we are here. But the other night I was doing some work on the Broshus hunt and a lead came up. Just outside of Ellijay, which was right on the way to Blue Ridge." 

"And this Dixie's what? A sister? An ex-wife?" Chris asked, his voice doing little to disguise his irritation. 

"Some chick who posts being places and doing things with a Cletus Broshus all over Facebook. Figured what are the odds of there being more than one Cletus Broshus..." 


"It's Georgia, Darren. Cletus Broshus is what they call their John Does." 

Their bickering was broken up as a woman approached their table. She was tall, with broad shoulders for a girl. Her body was lean and fit, but with an appealing womanly shape to it; a few other patrons taking notice of her as she walked past their tables.

"Sheri said you fellers wanted to see me?" Dixie asked, her tone slightly combative as she eyed them up. She had a pretty face, though she wore the day heavy on it; light brown bags slowly puffing under tired crystal eyes.

"Yes, hi... Dixie, I presume?" 

"Yea, I'm Dixie... You serving me court papers or something, mister? Cause I'm swamped..." She asked, eyes rolling around to the floor of packed tables. 

"Oh, please... There's no rush. We can talk at your leisure. Take our orders, please... No need to interrupt you." Darren said, hoping to smooth things as much as he could. He figured it would be better if she was agreeable when they spoke. 

"So what do you want?" She replied, the frustration not helping her already soured mood. 

She took their orders, leaving without saying a word; the pair watching her leave like lions do prey. 

"You sure do like picking pretty girls to get mad at you," Chris said, his eyes continuing to follow Dixie as she made her way to a few other tables before disappearing into the back. 

"I hope she isn't too mad," 

"Yea, yea... God forbid you can't finally find this Cletus T. Broshus and blow him or jerk him off or whatever it is you want to do with this fucking guy," Chris said before stopping. He happened to catch sight of Darren wincing as he was attacking his motives (purely in a humorous effort; Darren's obsession with locating this man a bit of a running joke among their friends). 

"Anyway, so to the real reason we are here... This Beast of Blue Ridge... I mean we are here to find that, right? Or was this really just a bullshit excuse to get me to help with that Stripper thing..." 

"Yea, we're really here for this Beast, Chris," Darren said, picking up his energy a bit at the change of subject; his guts in knots the longer discussion lingered on Broshus. 

"So, off this piece of federal land outside of Blue Ridge, there's an Indian Holy Land... Some primeval Romeo and Juliette shit between an Indian princess and some hunter boy from a different tribe... Rumor has it, there's a curse that went along with the suicide..." 

"Rumor has it? Or pre-colonial wives tales have it..." Chris asked, his tone mocking (his role as team skeptic well understood).

"Mostly wives tales... But there is one official account..." he said, pausing as he opened his phone, quickly navigating to documents he had uploaded onto it,

"... Of a magistrate..." He said, stalling as he cycled through the file names before finding what he needed. 

"Here it is... September, 1862... Signed by Magistrate Lew Chelsea Bowman, Captain of the 39th division of the Georgia Regulars. He was placed here at the start of the war, to hold the mineral deposits under Southern control. Says right here that during the attempt to apprehend a suspected witch and Union sympathizer, a Mary Catherine DuBeax, they came across a creature; not quite beast but most surely not man. It slaughtered twelve of Bowman's posse; leaving him and two others- wounded and barely alive- to crawl their way out of the brush." 

"Sounds like a bear..." 

"Except Bowman was an expert huntsman. He'd been tracking bear his whole life, he distinctly say-" 

"Here's your pulled pork sandwich," Dixie said, rudely interrupting as she drops a steaming plate of shredded pork in front of Darren. 


"And your Grillmaster sampler. I should have a few minutes after you guys finish eating to listen to whatever it is you wanted to say..." She said, nervously walking away before either man has a chance to respond. 

"She thinks we're cops, dude." Chris said, starting to gnaw on a rib bone as he spoke. 

"No way." Darren replied, gnawing on his own sandwich as he spoke 

"If anything, she thinks we're stalkers."

"Well, she'd be right." 

"Ina manner of speaking... So anyways, as I was saying... Bowman gave a description of the beast. Said it was tall, eight maybe nine foot tall... And it had oddly human characteristics in its movements and attacks. It didn't move like an animal, were his exact words."

"Alright, so a Confederate governor said there was a forrest monster running around here during the Civil War. Why are we here..." 

"A few months back, a kid and his dad head up here to prep some land they have for hunting season. It's a family track, so this guy and his kid have been coming up here for a long, long time. Real familiar with the terrain. Turns out, their land butts up with the land that the Cherokee in the area had declared sacred land from that whole suicide I was just telling you about..."

"The Sauntee Suicide..." Dixie's voice again interrupted as she appeared behind Darren as he spoke. 

"It's a bit of a local legend in these parts... Not far from here, maybe half hour by car... Another hour or so by foot." She paused, giving the men a quick once over as she tried to figure out what they wanted with her. 

"So, I got a free minute... What you guys need me for?" She said, words clipped and hard. She had a thick Southern accent too, but not as romantic as that of the hostess. It made her come off ignorant and ill educated when she spoke.

"If you could please..." Darren motioned, pointing her to the chair next to Chris. 

"I'd rather stand..."

"Oh but it will take but a moment and I feel it's better to say such things in hushed tones... Less ears the better..." Darren replied, doing his best to sound friendly and formal. He smiled as he finished speaking, motioning her with his hands to sit. She finally gave way, taking the seat next to Chris (who didn't look up from the food he was working over). 

"You got two minutes..." She said, making sure her manager hadn't noticed her popping a squat, crystal eyes burning a hole through the pushy man. 

"I'll be brief for now... Later we can fill in the details, if you can be of help...."

"I ain't for sale, if that's what you're leading to," Dixie stated, her voice hard as she shot Darren an insulted look. 

"No, no... Nothing like that. We are looking for someone, Dixie. It's really no more complicated than that."

"Me?" She jumped in quickly, eyes widening as she pressed her hand against her ample breast. 

"No, my dear.... I am actually hoping to come in contact with a friend of yours, a mister Cletus T. Broshus... Might you happen to know of whom I'm speaking?" He smiled as he finished, hoping to not spook her. 

"No... I..." She stammered, her lie obvious on her face. 

"We're not cops, Dixie. Not bounty hunters, not bad guys... We don't wanna hurt him or arrest him or serve him papers or nothing. We just wanna talk to him..." Darren continued in a hushed, friendly tone

"Talk to him about what?" She asked nervously. Darren smiled as she spoke, seeing her start to take his bait. 

"We're investigators... We do documentaries about strange things and paranormal phenomenon... All we'd like is to meet Cletus and ask him a few questions about a case we are investigating." 

Dixie stared at them, more confused now than intimidated. 

"And what's in it for Cletus if'n he does give you the time..." She asks, looking Darren coldly in his eyes. 

"We'd compensate him, of course... Fifty bucks for his time..." He paused, taking a drink from his soda and picked a few fries before continuing. 

"We're also doing some research in the area of the Sauntee suicide... Maybe we could hire him on as a guide..." 

"He don't know shit about here..."

"I thought you didn't know him..." Chris finally contributed, speaking in between mouthfuls of smoked meats.

"And I thought you guys were cops... Or IRS or something... Cletus ain't from round here... Wouldn't be much good as a guide. But I know the spot."

"Then I'll hire you on as our guide, if it helps me and Cletus meet." 


Dixie paused for a moment to think. 

"I'll give him a call, see if he's interested..." She finally said, getting up from her seat. Darren tried to thank her but she moved off quickly, disappearing behind the kitchen doors to make a phone call. 

"Well that went well..." Chris chimed in, grinning like a cat as the woman hurried away from the table. 

"Probably climbing out a back window to go tell this Cletus two fat nerds from out of town are looking for him."

"It went fine," Darren said nervously, watching the door she had disappeared behind  hoping she hadn't taken things wrong. 

"So fine you're sweating through your shirt," Chris laughed, enjoying himself as his friend waited. 

"Tell ya this... If he's out front to kick your ass when we leave, I ain't helping you... Maybe catching a beating at the hands of this hillbilly will finally get you to leave this be, man..." 

Darren heard him, but played it off as though he hadn't, knowing somewhere in his mind that Chris wasn't half wrong; the image of some hairy knuckled redneck giving Darren a firm beating for being a nosy prick one that taunted him nightmares for days before the trip. 

She returned a few minutes later, sneaking up from behind them; dropping off their bill and a folded note as she gathered their empty plates. Darren picked up the note, unfolding it.

"824 Warcloud Path. 7 pm." It said, the handwriting bubbly and feminine. 

"He said don't be late and come alone." She said with a smile, walking away from the pair. 

"So I take it we have another detour?" Chris asked, wiping barbecue sauce from his mouth. 

"It would seem we do, Chris. It would seem we do..." 

 

 

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