The Life and Times of Opel Jackson

Flash Fiction

By

Sugar Rae-ford Du-Gard

Part Three

Fred the Handyman

Fred was on time when he reached Opal’s back door with a hammer in one hand, and a nail in the other. “Here I is,” he called out, as he knocked on the screen door. “Miss Opal, I come to fix dat window shade.”

“Come on in Fred. I’s just poured ya coffee. I see ya crossin’ da street.”

Fred went in and laid the hammer and nail on the dinette table, and then sat down in front of a steaming cup of coffee.

“I sees ya gets ya tool togetta,” Opal said. “I’s finally gonna get my shade fix.”

“Miss Opal I taught I sees a donut on dat stove yestaday?”

“George mus’ be ate dat in da night,” Opal said. “When I come in dis mornin’ all I see is crumbs on da stove. I’s sorry Fred.”

“Das okay, I ain’t woik good on a full stomach, noway.”

They finished their coffee and Opal lead the way to the bedroom. Fred followed, noticing the motion of Opal’s large hips as she walked. In the bedroom, she pointed to the window.

“I pull on dat shade and it come off right in my hand. I ain’t pull dat hard, it jus’ come off in my hand.”

Opal handed Fred the rolled up shade. He turned it round and round looking at it.

“Yes’m, look like it jus’ come right off in yo hand all right.”

Fred looked at the shade again, then looked up at the brackets on the window, “Yes’m dat gwine’a need a nail up dare on da right side. Look like I’s gwine’a need a step ladda. So dis yo and George’s bedroom. I ain’t neva be in dis bedroom. ”

“Dis my bedroom. George sleep in da udder room.”

“George ain’t sleep in dis bedroom? Dat sho nuff is a big bed. Yo sleeps in dat bed by yo self?

“George ain’t like me to brush up against him in da night. He say he cain’t sleep wit me doin’ dat. I ain’t mean to wake ‘im, I jus rolls ova in my sleep.”

“Yo mus’ be sleep naked.”

“How you know dat Fred?”

“George say he ain’t like yo ta brush ‘im?

“Dats whut he say.”

“Whut wrong wit George anyway? Yes ’am Dat’s sho nough a big bed all right. Mus’ be yo spread out all ova dat bed when yo sleep.”

“Das right Fred. Dare’s room fo two but I dus sleep all alone, jus’ me in dat big bed.”

“Do George got a gun? I tink yo tell me one time dat George got a gun.”

“He sho do. He gots a Army 45.”

Where he keep he ladda, I gots to get dis shade all fix up an get home ‘fo Katrin gets home fo lunch.” Fred’s eyes were drawn back to the bed. “Yes ‘am dats sho nough a big bed. Bye jingum I ain’t know yo gots a big bed like dat.”

“George keep da ladda in da garage, you can go get it. I’s jus’ gonna lay down and take me a short nap while yo woiks on da shade.”

“I go gets da ladda, Miss Opal. I’s be right back.”

Fred went to the garage, but all he could find was a step stool, not more than three feet high. When he returned Opal was lying on the bed.

“Don’t mine me Fred, I’s jus gonna nap while you woiks.”

Fred placed the stool in position and climbed to the top step. He then looked over at Opal on the bed.

“Miss Opal mus’ be yo not sleep good las night?”

You right Fred; I ain’t sleep good in this big bed all alone.”

Fred turned back to the window and sized up his job.

“I gots to put dat nail in a new hole,” He said aloud. “I hope da nail ain’t too big.”

“It ain’t too big Fred,” Opal said. “Oh, I fell off ta sleep. I mus’ be dreamin’”

“Whut yo say Miss Opal?”

“I ain’t say nutin’ Fred. I gwoin back ta sleep.”

Fred looked back at Opal lying on the bed, her eyes closed, arms stretched out and one leg pulled up to one side. Her dress covered her knees but draped down between her legs. Fred quickly turned back to the window and placed the nail in the hole of the bracket.

“I tink dat’ll slide right in dare.”

“It will Fred, it will.” Opal said in a drowsy voice. “Oh, dare I goes again, dreamin’, I uz dreamin Fred, talkin’ in my sleep.”

Fred’s hands began to tremble and his legs started to shake. He wanted to drive the nail but had to look back one more time as Opal wreathed on the bed, now holding a pillow between her legs. Fred hammered the nail while still looking at Opal. He hit his thumb, let out a scream, dropped the hammer, and bolted backward as the ladder flew forward into the window. Fred landed in the bed on top of Opal.

“Oh Fred! You leap on me like a Bullfrog. I knows you could do it Fred.”

Fred was shaking like a dog passing peach pits, knowing George would kill him if he caught him and if he didn’t Kathrin would. He didn’t know what to do.

“Oh Fred, I ain’t think you was eva gonna do this.”

“I ain’t mean ta do it Miss Opal,” Fred said. “Da ladda done slip an trow me right in here wit chu.”. He lay paralyzed for just a moment, on top of Opal’s large body, enjoying the feeling of her large breast and her legs locked around his. It felt so good that Fred thought he could die right there. He then visualized what would happen if George walked in with his gun in his hand, or worse yet, what if Kathrin came home early and peeked in the window. What if they both walked through the door at the same time. The visions were playing out in vivid color. George with his Army .45 stood in the doorway with Kathrin behind him yelling, “Pull da trigger George! Kill da snake, kill ‘em!”

Jolted to his senses when Opal began tearing at her clothes, Fred’s eyes bulged and his forehead rose. He let out another scream. “Oh Miss Opal!” he yelled. “I gots to go home an fines me a luttla nail, and a talla ladda.”