She smiled. "They don't mean no harm. They just don't like niggers."
"Ah."
Now I felt better.
I glanced out at Leonard. He was really snoozing. In fact, he might have been hibernating. Great. Here I was with the hippo twins, and the Smartest Nigger in the World was tucked in for the winter.
The boys came over and sat on stools on either side of me.
"I ain't seen you before," said Paisley Shirt.
"Well," I said, "I don't get through here much. Buy you fellas some coffee?"
"Naw," said the other one. "We've had coffee."
"Lots of it," said Paisley Shirt.
"I don't know about you," I said, "but lots of coffee makes me nervous. In fact, maybe I shouldn't have got coffee with my lunch. I've had too much this morning already."
"You look a little nervous," said Paisley Shirt. "Maybe you ought to give up coffee altogether."
"I just might," I said.
"Me and my brother," said Paisley Shirt, "we don't have trouble with coffee. We don't have trouble with beer, wine, or whiskey."
"What about Christmas ants?" I said. "You got Christmas ant trouble, I know two guys you ought to meet."
"Christmas ants?" said Bad Mustache.
The woman called from the back then. Her voice was a little halfhearted, like she was calling a dog she figured had gotten run over. "Y'all go back and sit down, now."
"We're all right, Mama," said Paisley Shirt.
"Mama?" I said.
"Uh huh," said Bad Mustache. "What's this about Christmas ants?"
"Little bastards are serious trouble where I come from," I said. "You think fire ants are hell, you get into some of them Christmas ants, well, those buggers won't never let go."
"I ain't never heard of no Christmas ants," said Paisley Shirt.
"Neither had most anybody else in LaBorde until yesterday," I said. "But you'll read about it in the papers today or tomorrow, see it on the news. They're epidemic there. Brought in from Mexico, they think. In a crate of bananas. Or a shipment of cigars. They're deadly dudes, these Christmas ants."
"Wait a minute," said Bad Mustache. "Is that like them ants in that movie where they take over this plantation and this guy—"
"Charlton Heston," I said.
"Yeah, I guess . . . you've seen it?"
"Yep," I said. "And that's exactly what I'm talking about. But that was only a picture. They couldn't show it the way it is. I tell you, LaBorde's a mess. I think the loss of life is in the hundreds. Maybe the thousands by now. The guy in the car, Doctor Pine. He's from the government. World's expert on Christmas ants. One reason he's passed out is he's been up all night battling them. He lost."
"A nigger expert?" said Paisley. "There's your goddamn problem."
"I don't know," I said. "He had some good ideas, but the ants were too entrenched. I'll be honest with you. I work for the city there. Water Department. We were the first to catch on to the epidemic. Lots of people don't give us credit. They don't think much of the Water Department, but they don't know the things we see. Alligators. Snakes. Christmas ants. You can't drown those little bastards. The Christmas ants, I mean. And you better not have a banana, or some kind of fruit in your house. They track to the stuff like a pig to corn. Anyway, what I was saying is this. I'm not going back. Dr. Pine out there wants to go back, and he can if he wants, but not me. The ants have gotten too goddamn big for this cowboy."
"They grow?" said Paisley Shirt.
I smiled. "Look, it's not a science-fiction movie. It's not like they're ten feet tall. That's bullshit. They only get about the size of a rat. Some of them do, I mean. Most of them, they're more mouse or mole size."
"Naw," said Bad Mustache. "You're pulling our dicks."
"I wouldn't think of pulling your dick," I said. "Listen here, I wouldn't have believed it either had I not been there. These ants, they don't get that big in their own environment. But they thrive here. No one knew that until this week. What they've discovered, and it's something no one would have suspected, is that the tropical weather was keeping them small. They get a little cold snap, bam, they're big as rodents. It has something to do with the way they eat and the way their metabolism deals with the natural sugars and starches in human flesh."
"Human flesh?" Bad Mustache said.
"Uh huh," I said. "It's not a horror movie where they swarm someone and eat every inch of skin off of them. But they leave bad bites. And they can cause death, and have. Like I said, in the hundreds."
"They bite you to death?" said Bad Mustache.
"I'm a little sketchy on if it's the bite or the poisons in their system that kills humans. They do take a lot of meat with them, though. Actually, you'd have to get Dr. Pine t0 explain it to you."
"Wow!" said Paisley Shirt.
"Wow, indeed," I said.
"But why do you call them Christmas ants?" Bad Mustache asked.
"Again, you got me. I'm no ant expert. Maybe because they were discovered around Christmastime. That's what I figure."
The lady came out with my hamburgers.
"LaBorde," said Paisley Shirt. "That's not that far from here."
"No it isn't," I said. I got up, went over to the register, and called back to them. "I wouldn't alarm myself. I'd just be alert. Watch the ground. Especially at sunset and sunrise. That's when they like to travel."
The lady took my money at the register. She said, "Those boys are so dumb, I sometimes think maybe my kids were switched at birth, and they gave me these two jackasses. All they know is what they see on the TV."
"Maybe they ought to watch the educational channel. Last night they had a great National Geographic special on bears. I tell you, it tantalized me to the point I couldn't sleep afterwards."
"I like a good nature program myself," she said.
I got my change, and started out. Paisley Shirt said, "Hey, you said there were two guys we ought to meet."
"Well," I said, "I meant you would have liked them. They're back in LaBorde. Or were. But, you know . . . the ants."
"You been jacking with us, ain't you?" said Paisley Shirt.
"There's lots of people who've ignored the facts of scientific research," I said. "All of it to their detriment. Believe what you want, it's nothing to me. It's not my job to educate the masses. I work for the Water Department. But I will say this. I'm proud of that. I don't care what anyone else thinks about the Water Department. I'm proud."
I went out to the car and got in. I shook Leonard. He came around slowly and looked at me. "Man, I sort of passed out."
"Let's go."
Leonard started the car as the brothers came out of the cafe, stood on the sidewalk and looked at us. Leonard watched them a moment, backed out and drove off.
"Trouble?" he asked.
"No. But I will say this. It's not every day you can actually step into a science-fiction episode of The Andy Griffith Show by way of Deliverance."
Chapter 7
We drove out the way we'd come, stopped off at a little roadside park we'd passed. We got out under the pearl gray sky and ate our hamburgers and drank our coffee and rested our elbows on the concrete table. It was cold and the air smelled wet. Blue-jays, bold as priests, came out of the woods and hopped around the table looking for crumbs. I don't think we left too many. We were starved.
"I could do that again," Leonard said. "Even if it did taste as if it was rubbed under someone's armpit first."
"Frankly, short of the meat being kneaded between the cheeks of a fat man's ass, I could have eaten it anyway."
"And how old were those peanut patties? Them peanuts were like gravel."
"The peanut patties aren't nearly as big a problem as the fact we still don't know where we're going to stay. Did you have an urge for two of those, by the way? The peanut patties, I mean?"