Joe The Plumber is an Asshole EPISODE 4
Continued from Joe The Plumber is an Asshole EPISODE 3
Fifteen years had passed since Joe Cleveland dragged Mrs. Hendrickson from her place of work and [COURT RECORDS SEALED]. Joe had refused to comply with the orders associated with the [COURT RECORDS SEALED] and as such went on the lam. If you are familiar with a series of unsolved crimes that occurred between the Midwest and California during the mid 1980s, chances are Joe may have been involved. Or maybe not.
After securing a substantial financial gain, not exceeding $250,000, Joe went in pursuit of his mother, Juanita. He had found out of his mother’s whereabouts through a series of friendships he had made in Southern California during his time on the run.
Joe learned that Juanita and a shadowy man known only as “El Rico” were some of the wealthiest people in Mexico and had raised a rising music star. You may have heard of this Grammy-winning Latin crooner. Or not.
Either way, Joe wanted a piece of that fortune. His hope was to push his financial status well above $250,000, thereby making him rich. But when Joe arrived in Mexico, he quickly learned that he had arrived a day too late. There had been an accident. During a weekend holiday, El Rico and Joe’s estranged mother had taken a nasty spill off of a cliff. El Rico was incinerated and Juanita was left badly burned and just barely alive. She was hanging onto life at El Hospital Nacional de Mexico (Don’t try and look that up. I changed thge name of the hospital. Or did I?). Joe had to make a last stand. He needed that money.
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“SENOR! SENOR! NO PUEDE ENTRAR!” The doctor or whatever the large-moustached man in a lab coat was yelled at Joe as he cracked the door to the room Juanita was staying.
Joe turned around and gave El Doctor a menacing look. The vacant eyes stared deep into the hospital employee’s alma. It was the look Mrs. Hendrickson saw just before she [COURT RECORDS SEALED]. Joe gnashed his teeth and gave the doctor the finger, turned around and entered the room.
Juanita was destroyed. She was covered in bandages. Only her eyes were visible, and they were gray. It appeared the smoke or fire had destroyed her lenses. It smelled like seared flesh and strong antiseptic.
“Oh my God!” Juanita knew exactly who it was. She didn’t need sight. She could feel the evil in the room. Joe just stood there looking at his roasted mother. Under normal circumstances, Joe would crack a nasty joke at a suffering person’s expense, maybe induce vomiting (a practice he had continued since puking on the suffocating Timmy Mason). Joe couldn’t afford to push Juanita over the edge, though. Not until he secured his fortune, at least.
“Why hello mother. Your enunciation is far better than it ever was. So, what’s cooking?” Joe couldn’t help himself.
“You are an evil bastard, and I know why you are here.” Her voice was raspy.
“Well, then, let’s cut to the chase, you crispy bitch.” Joe unwrapped the bandages around Juanita’s face, exposing a black and pink and veiny face. “I want that money you have in your will. Obviously El Rico won’t be needing it. And that son of yours. That other son of yours, I guess my half-brother, already has a good thing going. I thought about extorting him, but God knows the kind of security that singing mariachi has surrounding him. Not even I could get through that kind of protection. So that just leaves you and me. What’s it going to take?”
Juanita reached for the call light, but Joe quickly slapped her tender hand away.
“Give me the fucking money! GIVE ME THE FUCKING MONEY, MOM!”
And at that moment, several heavy-set hospital security guards burst through the door. “Este es el hombre!” El Doctor shouted. “Stop senor! You are een beeg trowble!”
Joe ripped his mother’s blanket off and threw it at the guards, leaving what appeared to be a mummy laying on the bed. He dashed for the window and hopped out.
Outside, Joe could hear a long beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep coming from the room.
——
Joe sat in a decrepit bar somewhere in Southern Arizona. It had been several months since Mama Juanita had passed. He contemplated heading back to the Midwest. Apparently Stiffy’s liver was rotting, and he would soon be shouting curses up to him from Hell. Maybe Juanita was there, too.
He still had his moderate fortune, but he was not rich. He drank and drank, and when he finished drinking, he drank some more.
And it was that night when “The Accident” happened. Joe stood up at the bar, whipped out his dick and started pissing onto another patron.
The man, a burly Native American, stood up and landed a punch right into Joe’s forehead. Joe fell to the floor and continued to piss. The punch hadn’t interrupted nature’s call. The large man grabbed Joe’s face, gripping his disheveled beard with one hand and his mullet with the other. He picked a bloody Joe up and slammed his face into the bar top. The bartender said nothing. Apparently, Joe had been pissing him off all night as well.
SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!SLAM!SLAM!
There was a loud crunch, and Joe fell to the floor. There was blood all over the counter.
“Hthnoo dthoo yyyyghooo hthiink yyyyghooo ahr?” Joe asked of the burly man, blood dripping from every part of his face.
“Who do you think you are, you hick fuck?” The Native American man punched Joe right in the balls, dropping him to the floor.
“Joe. hgI’m Joe.” Joe fell face down. It sounded like an egg breaking when his face hit the ground.
The Native American man dragged Joe to the bathroom and shoved his head into the bowl, submerging Joe’s head in the water.
The Native American man stepped out of the bathroom and told the bartender to call the hospital. “Tell 911 our plumber got too fucked up and fell down while he was trying to work.”
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Dear Reader, thank you for not asking any questions. That was refreshing.
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