Sick

Well, you see, I lived nearby Mountain U. in the mountains of the western part of Old Catawba, so when I finished high school, Pa sent me to Mountain U. to get an education. There I met some mighty peculiar people, especially this one fellow from Yankee land, which I am fixing to tell you about.

His name was Ronald Sickleheaver. We called him Sick for short. He wore glasses with thick lenses and orange-colored frames and when he looked at you he kinda peered over the top of the rims. It made you feel like he was accusing you of somethin'.

He had a mouth full of teeth, seemed like too many for just one mouth, and when he smiled it seemed like he was giving his mouth a rest. He was five feet ten inches tall and weighed only 125 pounds. But believe it or not he was a wrestler. He never won much, but he was on the varsity team at Mountain U.

Ol' Sick sure liked to drink I guess we all liked to drink when we had money. The college was, and it may still be, in a dry county. So you can see what we were up against. The nearest place to get legitimate alcoholic beverages was The Halfway House Bar, which was half way down the mountain, 15 miles from campus. Unfortunately, often we had no car. Although there were four bootleggers in the little town just off campus, sometimes they wouldn't sell it to students.

I 'member the first time I sent Sick to the Sinclair Station and told him to tell the man that I had sent him. As the story goes, Ol' Sick shuffled in --- he has a kinda funny motion when he walks, like he is walking in order to keep from falling over frontwards- and said, "Dis guy dey call Sam Wilks sent me. He sez you got some booze if I say Sam Wilks sent me. But he sez you ain't got no booze if Sam Wilks didn't send me."

"Well, I don't think I've heard tell of this Sam Wilks fellow. But if you have the money I'll sell you all the booze you want."

Now when Sick came back and told this story we was about to die. Sick had a short crop of yellow, but wiry, hair, and his head was shaped like a fish's fin. He kinda nods his head from front to back when he talks, and his English is real bad. I am like Shakespeare when you compare me to Sick. He flunked the English I course three times and finally passed it by getting my wife to write all of his term papers.

One night we went over the tracks and up the short but steep hill to Rivertown. We were after white lightning. That's about all we could afford most of the time. I left Sick on the corner under the last streetlight and told him to watch what I did. Sick was almost blind. After I had walked a half block I turned back and saw him squinting through his glasses at me. When I returned with the liquor Sick asked, "How duh yuh know des guys won't roll yuh, huh? I ain't ever goin' any way past this streetlight."

But one night five of us were having a big party and we could see that we were running out of liquor. We were celebrating Sick's wagon. You see, Sick had to lose 10 pounds to get down to his wrestling weight and he had only one week to do it, so he decided to go on the wagon. Since this was to be Sick's last party for awhile, we paid for the booze, but when we decided that we were running out of the hard stuff we drew straws and Sick, drawing the shortest straw, had to go get it. This is what happened as best I can piece it together from what Sick told us later on.

Sick first went to the Sinclair, then to the cabbie stand, on to Will's Place and finally to Rivertown. Since it was homecoming weekend the first three dealers had run out, but you could almost always get what you wanted in Rivertown if you had the money. Sick had gone to Rivertown, knocked three times on the door of the shack beyond the warehouse, and been let inside by Big Jim. Sick was a little under the weather and it turned out Big Jim was too, so they argued over the price. Big Jim was an ex-prizefighter measuring six foot two inches in height and weighing 240 pounds. He put out his big, black hand in a gesture of friendship. Sick then did a crazy thing. He spat on Big Jim's big hand, threw three fifty cent pieces into the far corner of the room, grabbed the gallon of hooch in question, and made a break for the door. Big Jim stopped to pick up the money, but soon he had his knife out and was after Sick. Sick ran as fast as he could, but Big Jim soon caught him. The big black athlete wanted revenge, but he did not want to get tangled up in the web of white man's law. So he put away his long, curved knife, cuffed Sick several times, took five dollars out of Sick's wallet, and removed Sick's orange rimmed glasses and jumped up and down on them, grinding them into the pavement. Big Jim then ran off, encouraged by Sick's screaming and hollering.

"Yuh big bastid, yuh. I'll fix yuh, yuh big bastid. Come back wit my money. What did yuh do wit my glasses?"

But Big Jim was primarily a businessman and he had left the gallon of white liquor with his customer, so Sick returned to the party with the goods. His glasses were missing and one of his eyes was already purple, but he delivered. It took him an hour to find his way back but he delivered. One thing about Ol' Sick, he was dependable.

By the time the week was up Sick had lost the ten pounds. Although he was as weak as a cat, he made his weight division. We watched the entire match. Mountain U. won the tournament, but Sick, being so weak, got himself pinned in 40 seconds.

Ol' Sick's gone back up north now to New Windham up there beyond New York.

Them Yankees sure are funny fellas.

Signed Higgins

Previous Page   /   Tell a Friend   /   Index   /   Mail Me   /   Next Page

Last modified: