Pumped Up Trikes
Once upon a time at the Dairy Mart and other harrowing Tales . . .
Listen with theme song
. . . in which we follow the pre-continuing saga of young Hannibal, esp. the contretemps, perversions and other maladies fomented and served up hot by her own fresh hands.
Now, I believe psychopaths are born not made. They do not become bad by having “bad childhoods”, they are themselves the “bad childhood”. And, while the environment in which they grow up may influence the severity of their predispositions, they are bad from the get go.
In fact, as soon as they can pump up the tires on their brand new -- and likely stolen -- tricycle, they are pedaling off to rustle up some havoc (and later some $200K worth of cattle).
Pumped up Trikes
Hence the title.
Image courtesy of PFFK #7
Requiem for a Record Collection
In Devil with a Kickstand, I told you about Hannibal (i.e., my mom), riding her bike to the local Stratford diner, tormenting her own mother who was working there, then burning said mother’s record collection the very next day.
This was not an isolated incident, nor even the worst.
So, let’s go back to Stratford in the early 1960s and pick up from the fire setting of the record collection.
Winnie (Hannibal’s mom) is finishing up at the diner, slides her time card into the clock punch - clift-ta-clift . . clift-clift. She gathers up her tips -- $3 whole dollars and 67 cents -- whips off and folds her dirty white apron, and drives home to Chestnut Street a few blocks away. She passes her friend Eldna’s house, and waves -- Winnie would always wave even if Eldna wasn’t there, as was the case this time. Then she saw the fire in her front yard, and her stomach turned.
Like most homes in Stratford, it wasn’t much of a front yard, more like a collection of fine dirt, clumps of dried prairie grass, and holes those pesky Plains pocket gophers had dug up.
The lawn led to a small wooden sided home, about 900 sq. ft or so. The wooden porch in front had decayed somewhat over the years, due to the extreme summer heat, high winds and winter cold, and a few floor boards had collapsed. Otherwise, it was a totally serviceable home for Winnie, her three kids and her one devil.
As she came closer to the house, she saw Hannibal sitting, staring at the record collection, and the great ball of fire it had become. Goodness, Gracious! she thought.
Hannibal was laughing and humming, then began singing something quietly.
Thankfully, although it was a hot summer day, the wind was not a factor. They were lucky that day. Up in the Texas panhandle, winds can gust up to 50 - 60 miles per hour.
You may recall almost two years ago, on February 26, 2024, when the devastating Smokehouse Creek Fire broke out and burned for three weeks and consumed
1 million acres. Most folks in the panhandle know to burn things in a contained locations, like a 55 gallon oil drum, which is why you see so many of them dotted around houses, backyards, quonset huts, barns, and so forth. Well, sometimes, they also hold oil.
So, although Winnie’s record collection fire stayed contained, the fire inside Hannibal’s soul (or what counts as one) did not. Thanks Winnie!
Back to the story. As Winnie approached the fire, Hannibal was humming and then singing “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah, Zip-a-Dee-Day”. They had seen that banned Disney movie when it rolled into town earlier in the year. Winnie was chagrined listening to the sound falling on her ears. Winnie did not like that movie, but she absolutely hated the fact the hard earned money she spent so her kids could see that movie was now to Hannibal one more taunt.
Winnie in a panicked voice said, “what on earth?” (aka “what the hell”).
Hannibal ignored her and just kept going with “my oh my, what a wonderful day.” Winnie ran for the water hose and extinguished the fire. She could see remnants of album covers. Some had been gifts and a couple she had won as Bingo prizes.
Winnie, using no discernable cuss words, asked “why would you do this?” Hannibal: “. . . plenty of sunshine, headin’ my way’.
Winnie explained that is hurtful to destroy other’s belongings. So Hannibal replied with “well, I guess everything is satisfactual now, then”.
Needless to say, Winnie did not have the best night’s sleep.
The Next Day at the Dairy Mart -- or -- This One Time, at the Dairy Mart
It was another morning in Stratford. Winnie’s husband, who we shall call “Carbomb”, was still on the road. Winne was readying herself for another day at the diner. Hannibal appeared. “I promise to take good care of my sister today” -- also named Eldna as luck would have it, and about 6 - 7 at the time. “Is it OK if I take her to the Dairy Mart?”
Winnie said that it would be fine and left a few dollars for ice cream. Hannibal’s friend, “Maria” (we don’t know her actual name) was working there and Hannibal wanted a full lunch, not just ice cream. After a bit, she grabbed her young sister’s hand and said “let’s go, we’re going out for lunch”.
They walked along the sidewalks and instead of turning toward Main St, Hannibal ducked down another residential street. Her younger sister asked where they were going. Hannibal informed her that they had to first stop by Maria’s house to get something. No one was home at Maria’s and the front door was unlocked. Hannibal let herself in and told her sister to stay outside by the door and if anyone comes home or approaches to yell out “hello”.
Before long, Hannibal re-appeared outside. She was holding quite a few dollar bills, after she basically raided Maria’s tip jar. Her sister’s mouth dropped as Hannibal said “zip it, or else”.
They headed toward Main Street and Hannibal had quite the pep in her step.
She started humming again. Her sister felt so ashamed. Meanwhile, when they at last made it to The Dairy Mart, Maria immediately smiled and greeted them “are we having ice cream today?”
Hannibal said “we came to see you and we would both like the hamburger special”.
A few school “friends” (Hannibal didn’t have real friends) came by their table to say hello. A few did not. Hannibal continued to give her sister the dead eye dagger look -- all psychopaths have it -- as if to say “I meant it, keep your trap shut”. Her sister was still thinking about the fire, it was not even 24 hours ago. Her stomach felt anxious and she told Hannibal that she was not that hungry. Hannibal told her that she will eat every bite or else.
The hamburgers with fries arrived, and Maria refilled their drinks. When the bill arrived, Hannibal’s eyes began to dance. Her sister thought they might just dance out of her sockets and waltz across the table. Hannibal skipped up to the register to pay, almost as if she were wearing tap dancing shoes and paid. Maria dropped a few bits of change in Hannibal’s hand, she thanked Maria and gave an extra little bit bigger tip. I mean, it was Maria’s money after all.
It reminds me of a line in that 2016 movie Hell or High Water -- you’re paying these boys back with their own money. Well, if that ain’t Texan, I don’t know what is.” Great movie. Jeff Bridges should have totally won best actor. Also, fun fact.
Three actors/ actresses in Hell or High Water also had bit parts in the 2007 movie No Country for Old Men. Best Coen Brothers movie ever, in my opinion. In case, again, anyone’s askin’.
P.S. Mister Bluebird’s on my shoulder