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Bud Hershey

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skittratt



Joined: 10 May 2006
Posts: 5
Location: fort worth
Bud Hershey

Bud Hershey

Chapter One

Tall, Dark and A Hero


Bud Hershey had never had much happen.

At least that is what he thought until one night when he was walking back from his favorite bar Hinges.

This night was no different than any other of the other nights that he made his two block walk in his little neighborhood in Fort Worth. Less than a mile away was the local university and even in the current crime ridden times, Bud’s houses of fifty years was still in a fairly nice and quiet area full of pier and beam white painted houses. The WWII vet enjoyed his nightly walks, he had very little to enjoy now.
Looking at Bud, one could see the resemblance of the striking tall, dark and handsome man he was at one time. Even though in his golden years he walked with a slight hunch, his frame was still well over six feet; and one could imagine his curly hair in its orginal jet black color with little effort. Crystal blue eyes and thick eyelashes only served to indicate all the more what a heart breaker his must have been, along with olive colored skin that still held a nice tan. Even though Bud walked with a cane, he was still in excellent shape for a man his age. You would never catch Bud not looking his best; he believed that first impressions meant a lot.
If you were to ask anyone in the neighborhood to describe Bud, you would hear many of these things, and of course they would mention the hat Bud always wore. It looked like a hat you would see Humphrey Bogart would wear in one of his movies, and rumor had it that the inside was signed by the actor himself – though no one had actually seen it. He made no fuss during his journeys, and always minded his own business, but he had his stops. These stops were sometimes at houses with questionable occupants, and it was not odd to see Bud talking to people you would never imagine an older gentleman talking too. The neighbors quickly learned that this was just Bud, but not a one really knew Bud and some of the things he had seen and been through.
Other than being a vet, Bud had worked his whole career and retired from Ford Motor Company. His life had been simple for the most part, at least in his view, and the only thing that stood out to him was his wife, Marita. Marita had been the center of his being, the one exceptional thing that he had, and when she was gone, Bud became the old man with the funny looking hat who hung out at Hinges.
Bud’s life was simple, and he liked it that way. Retired he filled his days with golfing, fishing and hanging out at his favorite bar and had a routine that he had grown accustom to. He really believed that there was nothing else for him to do in this life- that nothing else major would happen.

Fate had another idea.

As fate would have it- Bud happened across trouble on his way back from Hinges one cold December night. Out of the corner of his eye as he passed the last alley by his house he saw movement and out of instinct headed straight towards it. What he saw took a moment for him to comprehend- two boys were standing over another guy who was in the middle of raping a young girl.
“Excuse me,” he said raising his cane, “What is going on here?”
A blonde haired boy turned towards him with a wild look in his eyes,”Mind your own business old man.”
Bud looked down; the boy’s fly was wide open.
“No,” answered Bud as he swung his cane underhand racking the boy, “I don’t think I will.”
Then the fight was on. Even at his older age he fought the boys off effortlessly and it wasn’t long before they took off running. For what seemed like hours, Bud stood over the petite, crying girl curled up in the fetal position with his broken cane next too her. Playing over in his mind the scene he had stumbled upon, and the looks on the boy’s faces, Bud was willing to bet all three had played the part in a gang rape with this girl.
Bud bent over and scooped the girl up into his arms. She grabbed onto his neck and held on for dear life and as he walked back to his house he could feel the wetness of her tears on his neck. He also noticed a strange combination of the smell of strawberries and men’s cologne and wondered briefly what that was all about.
After returning to his house and chasing his pomeranian, Mr. Toodles off the couch, Bud laid the girl down. Right away she curled up and continued crying. Mr. Toodles decided to hop back on the couch and started licking the girl’s hand only to be grabbed by her and held on to like child grabbing onto a teddy bear during a nightmare. Bud almost had to stifle a laugh at the look on Mr. Toodles face.
After awhile he spoke,” Who do I need to call?”
Much to Bud’s surprise this only caused the girl to cry even harder.
“Listen,” he said,” I’ve got to call the cops – isn’t there someone you want to be here for you?”
More crying. Confused, Bud sat in his recliner and picked up the phone.


It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell the old man, but as Cynthia laid there crying all she could think of was not only how mad her girlfriend was going to be, but how she was going to have to explain to this nice old man that she was a big ole queer. He had been her night in shining armor for a minute and she didn’t want to be judged by him.
The night had started off so good to begin with. Cynthia met some friends up at the library and they had studied and goofed off. Everyone was in a really good mood and they after the session was done, Cynthia bid them farewell and stayed to study some more on her own. Finally feeling good about her exam the next day, Cynthia walked out to her car only to discover that she had locked her keys in the car. For a moment, she pondered calling her girlfriend Megan, but decided against it.
Besides, she figured the house wasn’t that far away, and she could probably get there and get the spare keys before Megan made it home from work. The cold night wind seemed to be a small price to pay in order not to hear Megan’s mouth.
Cynthia knew Megan meant well, they were just two different people. A couple of years older, Megan was getting ready to graduate, and was in general more of a serious person than Cynthia. Though it had been love at first sight, it was often pretty rocky between them. Still the good times outweighed the bad, and they had slot of fun together. Cynthia secretly hoped that Megan would relax after she was done with school, otherwise she wondered how long they would last.
Two blocks from the school she sensed she was being followed. She turned around to see three boys that she knew from school and waved. They waved back. Thinking nothing else of it, she walked on.
Out of nowhere, someone threw something over her head and hands grabbed her and pushed her to the ground. She fought as much as she could, but when what turned out to be a pillow case was yanked off her head, she came face to face with a knife. It was the three boys that had been following her and they smelled of alcohol.
One by one they took turns, holding the knife to her throat. She did the best she could to block it out- their smell, what was happening, the gravel digging in her back. She was convinced it was never going to end, and she lost all track of time. When she realized it was over, she was being picked up by an older man, and she knew she had been saved.

Twenty minutes later, Cynthia stopped crying long enough to give Bud her wallet and he found Meagan’s cell phone number. When Bud called, Megan’s husky voice answered and became slightly panicked as he told her what happened, and she told him she was on her way. As he closed Cynthia’s wallet, he took a quick look at her driver’s license so he would know her name, then he handed it back to her.
Cynthia didn’t talk at all as they waited for the cops. She sat there and played with Mr. Toodles, who seem to know what was going on. Bud was ever more grateful for that dog as he sat there and watched the two interact.

Megan was cursing Cynthia as she did the dishes when the phone rang. As usual, Cynthia had left the house a disaster, and when Megan got off work early, her plans for a nice quite evening were blown. Megan had no idea what she was going to do with Cynthia sometimes, she was so frustrating.
After speaking with Bud on the phone, Megan couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. Along the way she tripped over Cynthia’s clothes, which only made her heart pound faster. All she knew was that Cynthia had been raped, and already, Megan was wanting to know what she was doing in that alley.

She pulled up at the same time as the cops did.

When the first knock came, Bud opened the door to a very pretty, doe eyed girl who did not match her voice. She smiled for a second at Bud, before rushing to Cynthia’s side. As soon as Megan sat down by Cynthia, Cynthia attached herself like glue and held on for dear life. Cynthia never let go as she gave her statement to the cops, and after they talked to Bud, it was time to go to the hospital.
As they walked out the door, Megan looked at Bud and with a hint of tears said, “Thank you so much.”

No matter how much Megan had yelled at her and had been a hag in the past, when was near Cynthia felt safe. No one could have been there at the hospital with Cynthia except Megan; and even though she could see the lectures forming behind Megan’s brown eyes, she didn’t care that moment. For the next few hours, Cynthia held on to Megan’s hand for dear life.
When they were done, they got into Megan’s car, and sat for a moment. Megan turned towards Cynthia. Here we go, thought Cynthia.
“Were the hell is your car?” asked Megan.
“I locked my keys in it and it is still at the school,” answered Cynthia feeling herself sinking into the car seat.
Shaking her head, Megan asked, “Why didn’t you call me? What were you thinking?”
“Because I knew you would yell at me – just like you are doing now!” yelled Cynthia.
The look on Megan’s face told Cynthia that her comment hit home. Megan looked hurt, and for a second Cynthia wished she hadn’t said anything. On the way home, Cynthia stared out the window and nothing was said, and when they reached the house they just sat for a moment. Megan reached for Cynthia’s hand.
“I am sorry baby,” she said, “My heart is really in the right place, I just don’t show it the right way sometimes.”
“Let’s go in Megan,” answered Cynthia, her eyes tearing.
They walked into the house and got ready for bed. Cynthia took a couple of pills that the doctors had given her to help her sleep and crawled into bed. Megan curled up next to her and took her into her arms, and it wasn’t long before Cynthia’s breathing became regular and she fell asleep. Megan stared up at the ceiling and sighed.
Great, Megan thought, my girlfriend ended up getting raped because she was too scared to call me.
_________________
The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook. ~William James

Post Wed May 10, 2006 5:47 am 
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skittratt



Joined: 10 May 2006
Posts: 5
Location: fort worth
Chapter Two

Bud Hershey

Chapter Two


Unlikely Relationships


When Cynthia woke up the next morning, everything seemed like a dream from the night before. Still hazy, she looked over at Megan sleeping and wrapped her arms around her, placing her head on Megan’s shoulder.
Had Megan had claws, Cynthia might have had to pry her off the ceiling. Cynthia would never know if it was from her cold hands, or Megan being a little scared. Megan opened her eyes a little and scowled before wrapping her arms around Cynthia in return. Cynthia laid there for awhile going over everything that had happened.
“What is it baby?” asked Megan; she could practically see the wheels in Cynthia’s head turning.
“It seems like a dream, like none of it happened,” answered Cynthia.
“Well it did,” replied Megan, “Now we just have to make sure we nail the guys who did this.”
The conversation continued on, though Cynthia felt like every time she tried to talk about how she felt, Megan just wanted to go back to the facts. When Megan finally got up to take a shower, Cynthia was left with a very empty and almost lonely feeling. She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
“Are you not going to go to school?” asked Megan twenty minutes later as she dressed.
“No,” answered Cynthia, begging that Megan would leave it at that.
And she did.


Bud wondered how Cynthia was doing. A couple of days had passed with no word, and Bud’s heart jumped anytime someone knocked on the door. Not one to scare easy, Bud was also practical, and those boys had not been caught yet. Refusing to let it run his life, Bud was out on his way to go fishing when the doorbell rang.
It took him a couple of minutes to set all of his fishing gear down so he could answer the door. When he finally got it opened Cynthia was halfway down the walkway. She turned towards him and flashed a smile.
“Hi,” she said, “I brought you some cookies.”
He smiled as he took the foil covered plate from her. She sure isn’t shy at all, he thought. For the first time he noticed what a pretty girl Cynthia was, with her dark curly hair and ice blue eyes. Petite and athletic, for a moment, she reminded him of Marita.
“Come on in,” he said.
Mr. Toodles yipped with excitement, and in his excitement to see Cynthia, knocked all of Bud’s fishing poles down. They both laughed for a good while at the look on Mr. Toodles face, and laughed harder when he growled at them. Bud reached over and picked up his gear and set it near the couch.
“Have a seat,” he said, his eyes twinkling with the remnants of tears, “I’ll be right back with these.”
When Bud returned from the kitchen with plates and two glasses of lemonade, he noticed Cynthia standing by the fireplace looking at his pictures, with the same wonder as a two year old. He watched her for a moment, mesmerized, before he cleared his throat. She turned and smiled at him.
“Curious one, aren’t you?” he asked has he handed her a glass and a plate.
“Well if you were to ask my friends, they would just tell you I am nosey,” answered Cynthia with a small laugh.
Bud laughed back; her smile was contagious, “Nothing wrong with that.”
“Who are you?” asked Cynthia, “And how was it you were there to rescue me?”
Nope, not shy at all thought Bud as he answered, “Well, my name is Bud Hershey and over there is Mr. Toodles. I just happened to be out walking that night, and did what almost anyone else would have done. I was a little too late to rescue you though; I think those boys were just about done.”
“They might have killed me then,” answered Cynthia solemnly, “So yes you did rescue me.”
“True,” answered Bud, “I am glad I was there to help.”
“You served in the war?” asked Cynthia, nodding towards a couple of medals on the fireplace.
“Yes I did, World War Two,” answered Bud, “Those medals were sort of a fluke though.”
Cynthia turned and raised an eyebrow, “Somehow I doubt that.”
They both sat down on the couch, and Bud told her about his childhood and serving in the war. He told her about working his whole life for Ford and about his wife Marita. Then he ended with how his life was now, the fishing, the golfing and Hinges. Cynthia hung on every word he spoke, taking it all in.
“So you see,” he said, “My life is pretty boring.”
“Nobody’s life is boring,” replied Cynthia with a knowing grin, “There are always layers with stories hidden in them.”
Cynthia then shared her story with Bud. She told him of her happy childhood, what a handful she had been. She told him about her dreams and goals. It was refreshing to Bud, almost exciting. Cynthia was so full of life it was almost infectious.
“You forgot one part,” said Bud after Cynthia declared she was done.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“You didn’t tell me about your girlfriend,” he answered.
Cynthia almost fell off the couch. Bud sensed he had scored on her – not something that happened often.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“Just did,” he answered.
“Her name is Megan,” answered Cynthia, “And she is quite the character.”

Something in Bud’s eyes let Cynthia feel like she could just open up. She told Bud about how they met and what their life was like. She told him all of her frustrations and how misunderstood she often felt. Bud just set there and nodded.
As they continued visiting, Cynthia began to wonder and then became convinced there was something Bud was not telling her about. That’s okay, she thought, I’ll find a way to get it out. It wasn’t really that he was hiding something; it just seemed very odd to her that he was so understanding.
Bud brought out a shoebox full of pictures and they looked through them. One of the pictures was of a pretty dark haired girl. Bud told Cynthia that it was his wife Marita. Cynthia smiled; Marita looked like a little spit fire.
“She was the best,” he said, “We met my first year of college right before the draft. She wrote to me all through the war, and not just your usual letters, she always had a story to tell. And boy could she, that woman’s imagination went all over the place. She could take a trip that she made to the grocery store that day and make me feel like I was right there. The moment I got back to the states I asked her to marry me.”
Cynthia sat amazed. Bud’s whole demeanor changed when he was talking about his wife. His eyes were so full of love, and his voice grew softer. He wiped a tear from his left eye.
“When did she die?” asked Cynthia.
“About two years ago,” answered Bud, “In a dumb car wreck.”

They talked for awhile longer – Bud found himself opening up to the spry young woman. As he was walking her out he found himself asking her to go fishing with him in a couple of days. Without even thinking about it, Cynthia said yes.
_________________
The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook. ~William James

Post Wed May 10, 2006 5:48 am 
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Jules



Joined: 22 Feb 2005
Posts: 904
Location: Home


Excellent story, I look forward to reading some more.
Welcome!
Jules
_________________
Never again

Post Wed May 10, 2006 12:06 pm 
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ghost



Joined: 06 Nov 2005
Posts: 2828
Location: MIA


good story you have here, skitt, please continue.

and welcome to mels from me too.

regards
ghost
_________________
MIA

Post Wed May 10, 2006 7:56 pm 
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