Where the Blood Mixes. Kevin Loring
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For a couple of days, anyways … But now … now she’s got that … moon-a-pause.
GEORGE
Moon-a-pause?
MOOCH
There’s no telling what she’ll do.
Get a jug.
FLOYD
You gonna chip in?
MOOCH reaches into his pockets and pulls out a handful of change.
FLOYD
How much is that?
MOOCH
Twenty bucks, looks like.
FLOYD
How did you get that?
GEORGE
Raid June’s change jar again?
MOOCH
No!
FLOYD
The one she puts money in, instead of buying smokes.
MOOCH
She gave it to me.
FLOYD
You ripped her off!
MOOCH
No!
GEORGE
No wonder she’s so miserable all the time. She was trying to save up for something nice and you go and drink it away on her. One day you might find yourself out on your ass.
MOOCH
You gonna lecture me all goddamn night?
FLOYD
How much he got?
GEORGE
About ten bucks, looks like.
MOOCH
Told you. Now c’mon, let’s chip in and get a jug. We can get more that way.
FLOYD
I got a drink.
MOOCH
Oh …
MOOCH watches for FLOYD to drink his beer.
FLOYD
You just gonna sit there and watch me?
MOOCH
I’m waiting for you. Hurry up, eh.
FLOYD
Get your own jug!
MOOCH
If we chip in, it’s better. C’mon!
FLOYD tries to take a drink. MOOCH stares at him the whole time.
FLOYD
Oh, for Christ sakes!
MOOCH
George, get us a jug.
MOOCH collects his change from the table.
MOOCH
I’ll keep this for the next one.
FLOYD
I thought you said you would pitch in.
MOOCH
I’ll pitch in for the next one. You get this one.
FLOYD mutters to himself under his breath.
MOOCH
You know, I might look licked, but you really look like shit.
FLOYD
And what the hell are you, a goddamn underwear model?
MOOCH
No, I’m serious; you’re more miserable-looking than usual.
George, don’t you think he looks more miserable than usual.
GEORGE
Let’s look. Oh yeah.
MOOCH
Are you on your moon time too? ’Cause you know, men get their moon time too, eh. It’s whatcha call it … whore-moan-all, ain’t that right, George?
GEORGE
Oh yeah. Me, I get my period and everything. Bleed right out my arsehole.
FLOYD
Bullshit—that’s your piles bleeding!
GEORGE
I get rank too; stink like a bull elk in full rut.
MOOCH
Like right now?
GEORGE
Worse.
MOOCH
Nice!
GEORGE
We gonna go hunting this year, Floyd?
FLOYD
Hunting? With you? You might blow my goddamn head off.
GEORGE
C’mon, me and Mooch went last year. Mooch got that little two-point, isn’t that right, Mooch.
FLOYD
You went hunting with this crazy Shum’ma?
MOOCH
Him? Oh yeah. We hunted.
FLOYD grunts.
MOOCH
We went up the lake there just road hunting, eh. We’re going around the far end there and I tell him, “STOP! Right there! Right there!”
MOOCH points to an imaginary deer.
MOOCH
He hits the brakes, my goddamn head almost went through the windshield.
He indicates antlers with his hands.
MOOCH
Two-point buck right on the road at Dead Lake, there. So we jump out, I lean up on the truck, eh. Crazy Shum’ma jumps right in front of me. BOOM!
I almost took his goddamn head off.
FLOYD
That’s why I don’t want to hunt with you. You get that buck fever.
GEORGE
Ah bullshit.
FLOYD
You get so worked up you forget yourself. Your heart thumps in your chest, you can’t hear nothing, your asshole puckers up, your pecker gets hard and your eyeballs pop right out of your head; all because of that an-drenaline, eh, rushing through your veins, and all you can think about is shooting that buck. And then next thing you know—
MOOCH
Somebody’s goddamn head is blown off.
FLOYD
(reinforcing) Somebody’s goddamn head is blown off.
GEORGE
I guess that’s a no, eh?
MOOCH
You’re one to talk. You almost blew my head off that one time.
FLOYD
When?
MOOCH
That one time up High Mountain there …
FLOYD
That wasn’t buck fever … you ducked.
MOOCH
Hey,