Patches

Mae and E (cont.)

Mae slammed the door behind her, shaking her head in annoyance over her neighbors behavior. Eugene or E was fairly often a little punk, he always had been, at least in her eyes. Her husband, Phil, wouldn't have ever let E be that loud. If he was still around, he would have done two things about Eugene. One thing, he'd make Eugene turn down that racket. Secondly, he'd probably help him with that "damn car". That's what she had called it ever since the boy and his friends brought it up the drive way about two years ago.

Phil had passed away about four years ago, he luckily had passed away at the age of 85 in his sleep. That's how Mae hoped to go. Peacefully. Phil had worked in the little auto shop on the edge of town, he was one of the best mechanics there. He often heard the phrase "Looks like a job for Phil" at least three times a week. He didn't mind it, it kept food on the table and it made people happy. Phil had gotten his mechanic training while working on the vehicles in the army. He'd sometimes talk about the tanks he'd worked on to the jeeps. Phil was fast in his work and preferred working on older vehicles, but didn't complain if someone brought in a newer car.

He was always annoyed by how many new  distractions were in cars, they were issue to the driver. He preferred any car from the 80's and before, the cars he knew. The cars he liked. Their car needed some minor repairs before Phil passed. These repairs would never get done. Repairs like the passenger side air vent not opening or lock on the trunk door that worked only if forced down.

Going past her chair and the TV which still played her show, Mae walked through the kitchen and around the corner into the small converted walk way. As she did so, she took a small plastic clothes basket from atop an old model washer machine, sitting inside the plastic basket was a small material bag, full of various sized and colored clothing pins that ranged from plastic to wooden. Placing a hand on the knob, she turned it with an audible click and stepped out on to the rickety porch.

The back of her yard was the near polar opposite of the front. Where the front had several flower beds, lively thick grass and lawn ornaments that consisted of a few gnomes, a cement dog and lastly a sun rotted plastic flamingo. The back had mostly dirt intertwined with multiple tuffs of nearly dead grass. The small shed sat at the back of the property, a tin box that seemed to be like an oven in the summer despite the sliding door having halfway fallen off the track. Before it was the metallic poles with four identical strands of wire that held her clothes.

Dropping the basket, Mae began taking the clothes pins from the line in silence as she made mental note of each thing. Mostly her dress shirts had been washed along with socks and a few dress pants. After a small time, she stopped. Her brow furrowed in frustration over the new sight. Though the clothes pins still pinched the line, the shirt they held was gone.

Mae scoped the area looking left, right and even down for the shirt. The shirt that had suddenly gone missing was another dress shirt, a thin material white shirt detailed in small roses. She shook her head and continued to collect the few remaining pieces, muttering under her breath. "Damn son of a bitch...take my damn shirt. Who the hell takes and old bats shirt?" she asked herself, unsure of who to blame. Eugene or "E" wouldn't take it. He wouldn't be caught dead on her property. She wasn't sure if this was a one time thing or if anyone else had dealt with this, but she did know she'd be on alert. If this little clothes thief wanted more, she'd give him something.

That something being a hot .44 round to the chest.