By author and creator Rodney Strange
The Preacher's Wife - Part 6

I fumbled with my armload of necessities as my foot wedged itself in the storm door and shoved it open just enough for me and my gear to squeeze through.  Stepping out onto the porch, I paused to allow the door to close.  With a sigh I sat my CD player beside a lawn chair and an ice chest containing three beers beside that. Positioning myself just right in the old, worn lawn chair, I rummaged in the chest for a Coors Light, popped it open and took a swig.  My finger found the Ďplay  button and Alabamaís Ďif youíre gonna play in Texas  filled the night air.  I sighed again, a deeper sigh than before, and stared into the darkness.  This is how I would spend my Saturday night.
The preacherís wife, in her evil quest to destroy me, had struck three times in as many weeks.  What tales she had told countless women at my usual Saturday night hangout, I could only imagine.  All I knew was that her stories had been successful in running many a good woman off.  I had come to the conclusion that I would not give her the satisfaction this Saturday night.  Instead I would sit on my porch in the darkness, drinking beer and enjoying Alabamaís Greatest Hits.  I secretly hoped that somewhere in the night a chocolate cake would magically appear at my feet, just as one had each of the three previous Saturday nights.  As luck would have it, as the night wore on and the beer ran out and the batteries grew weak…no cake appeared.
The preacherís wife occupied my mind for the next several days.  I had been forced to change my routine to avoid her wickedness and the closer the weekend came, the more she played on my mind.  Iíd admitted to myself that the Saturday night spent on the porch alone had not been particularly entertaining, and my dancing feet yearned to hit the dance floor.  Yet I had no inclination to become a victim of her revenge once again.  I found myself confused in my own thoughts.
I was even more confused when the knock came at my door on a Thursday night.  Opening it, my eyes met hers. 
"Oh…   A long pause followed as I searched for words.  "Hey there."
My voice trailed off as she pushed past me and seated herself in my recliner, positioning her purse in her lap and staring at me viciously.  I took a seat across the room on the sofa.
"Iíve spent several weeks checking up on you.   She began, her eyes glued to mine, "I know who you are!"
Puzzled, I replied, "Who am I?"
"You are a private eye.   She threw her hands up in the air as she revealed her finding to me, "You work for the very best divorce attorneys in the city.  They hire you to sleep with women facing divorce court.  You get them in compromising situations; all the while the cameras are rolling!  Videos, photographs, even taped conversations!  Youíve been doing this for years!  Iíve talked to several people who confirm this!"
I sat with my mouth open as her words soaked in.  A broad grin began to spread across my face in spite of my attempt to stifle it.
"No.  Youíre wrong.  Iím not a private investigator.  Iím just a lonely guy looking for a girl or ten to dance with on a Saturday night."
"Liar!   She screamed.
"Nope, I am not lying.  Come on, thatís a far fetched story!   I shook my head and crossed my arms in defiance as my mind evaluated the possibility of becoming a private eye.  Wow, what an awesome job that would indeed be, I found myself thinking.
"I have talked to numerous people who verify this!"
"Who?  Give me names!  You wonít because you canít!   My voice raised involuntarily.
"I demand you hand over all videos of me, as well as photos and taped conversations!"
"We never even had sex!  Youíre looney!   
"I was naked and in your bed!   she screamed.
"Well, you were that…   I nodded and shrugged.
"Give me the videos!"
"No, dammit!  I donít have videos of you!"
I could hear her heavy breathing from across the room as she began rummaging through her purse.
"I prayed to God and He gave me the answers I searched for!  This will solve all my problems.  I will eliminate you and in the process have a place to live out the rest of my life!"
My eyes bugged out as I watched her frantically digging in her purse.
"What the hell are you doing?   I demanded.
She ignored me as she slunk from the chair to her knees, pouring the contents of the purse onto my carpet.  Disgusted, she tossed her hands in the air and began scooping her belongings up and dumping them back into her purse.
She rose to her feet, brushing the brunette hair from her face and straightening her blouse.  She composed herself, then stared at the door.
"You just better be glad I didnít bring my gun, buster!"
(Three weeks later)
"So, do ya wanna come over to my place?"
My eyes stared into the green eyes of the redhead who had issued the invitation.  She was obviously intoxicated and Iíd only danced a couple of dances with her.
"And what would we do at your house?   I asked cautiously, a tremor running the length of my body.
"Well Sugar, if everything goes right, you may just get lucky tomight!  She batted her eyes and puckered her lips.
"Lady…you have the wrong guy!  I donít even own a camera!"

The Adventures of the Rusty Goat - The Lost Tales
Nineteen Seventy Something, a novel by Rodney Strange

The Great Adventure

The Rusty Goat
If you missed the Seventies the first time around, I'd love to take you back in time.  Get my novel Nineteen Seventy Something!
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