Babs

Return to Snake Boy/Babs Home

Barbara Jo Phequa lumbered out of her trailer as the walls vibrated from the resonant wave of Snake Boy's humongous belch.

Barbara Jo was a huge woman, but she never gave up on the idea that she would attain the svelte figure of one of those models she saw every month in "The Dieter's Guide to Life" magazine. Barbara Jo Wasn't particularly concerned about her weight, but seeking help was like a religion for her.

Every Monday night at 6:30 p.m. she attended a Weight Watchers meeting held in the Ralph P. Morton Memorial Community and Social Room in the basement of the Peace and Harmony Southern Baptist Church. The first order of business at these weekly get -togethers was the weigh-in. Barbara Jo like to arrive early so that she could be first in line, but most other members had the same idea. When the check-in table and the scales were set in place, Barbara Jo, and the rest of the Weight Watchers faithful, slipped out of their shoes (it was optional but everyone felt it helped), and dutifully stepped into line. Other members tried to avoid being in line behind Barbara Jo, partly because they could get a better view of the spectacle that was about to unfold and partly because they were afraid she would break the scale. When it was her turn, Barbara Jo would hand her card over to the checker, and step to the scale.

The assembled group would hold its collective breath as the weigher would slide the counter weights to their maximum position, and prepared to release the scale's spring. The Ralph P. Morton Memorial Community and Social Room in the basement of Peace and Harmony Southern Baptist Church would fall dead silent. As silent as when the had a funeral upstairs. Even Emily Jackson, who normally talked constantly, would pause from her weekly weigh-in strip down. The church had been forced to set limits on how far the Weight Watchers could disrobe before weight-in. It was a question of Christian decency, but that's another story.

Barbara Jo, standing perfectly still so as not to distort the scale reading, fixed her attention on the "Suffer the Little Children to Come Onto Me" poster (featuring Jesus and a bunch of kids) that hung on the wall across the way. The instant the spring was released the counter-weight bar would slam hard against the frame of the scale with a sound not unlike the single blow of a blacksmith's hammer. The dull metallic ring would echo two or three time, bouncing off the adjacent walls - and then it was over.

The crowd would burst into conversation, trying hard to pretend that they hadn't clung to every tense moment, and wondering if the scale was still capable of producing an accurate reading.

Every week the group leader, Merna Arnold, gave Barbara Jo the same response and encouragement. "Well Barbara Jo, you sure look like you've lost weight, and I'm sure you've worked hard, but you're still over what our scale will register. We still don't know your true weight. But we will, I just know it!"

Barbara Jo would look disappointedly to the floor, nod and step off the scale.

Merna would offer comfort. "Don't be discouraged dear," she would say. "It's only a matter of time 'til you get down far enough to register on the scale. You're doing soooo good! We're just proud of you!"

Tuesday night was reserved for the FIRM AGAINST TEMPTATION WEIGHT LOSS CLUB - better known as FAT Club. Barbara Jo was a charter member. She liked the FAT club the best because there was no public weigh-in. Every member was supposed to weigh at home, report their loss or gain to the group. They would then have discussion about which was the best tasting diet soft drink, exchange a few recipes, share some gossip, and head of to KENNETH'S $4.95 ALL U 'KIN EAT B.B.Q. BUFFET. The meetings usually lasted about 45 minutes - the trip to Kenneth's B.B.Q. about an hour and a half. Kenneth had been taking a beating on the food every Tuesday night since the FAT Club was founded and picked his establishment as an after FAT Club meeting place, but then he instituted the KENNETH'S $4.95 ALL U 'KIN EAT B.B.Q. BUFFET beverage extra policy. Kenneth had printed signs posted all around the cash register, and all over the dining room. The policy paid off big time in Diet Coke sales, and Kenneth figured he was probably coming out a little bit ahead when the FAT Club settled up its check.

Late Wednesday afternoons, Barbara Jo made her weekly trip to NutriSystem. Although the weigh-in usually went pretty much the same as Weight Watchers, Barbara Jo like having the individual attention of her personal weight loss counselor. Her counselor, Tammy Buffington, had probably never weighed more than 120 pounds in her entire life, but her obvious lack of a weight problem didn't prevent her from thinking that she understood what it was like to be fat. But then, NutriSystem counselors didn't really need any personal experience because they could always refer to their exclusive computerized height and ideal weight charts. Barbara Jo didn't understand the technology, but she loved the attention. Tammy would call Barbara Jo's personalized program up on the screen, and review her progress - seemingly undaunted by the fact that there was never any progress. Tammy would chart out projections for when Barbara Jo would reach her ideal weight, although they were never complete because the automatic date setter couldn't go past 1999. It mattered not that Tammy had no idea how much Barbara Jo actually weighed. Tammy could punch in an estimated weight, and the computer would crank out page after page of charts and graphs. This was very professionally done. Barbara Jo also liked the fact that she could shop at the NutriSystem food store (which was actually nothing more than a room next to the weigh-in room) for some of her favorite food. She particularly liked the NO-CAL brownie mix, and had learned that the brownies tasted much better if she substituted whole-milk for water, and threw in two tablespoons of butter and a fourth cup of sugar.

Usually on Wednesday, Barbara Jo had just enough time after her visit to NutriSystem to stop in a Menlow's Corner Bakery to buy two dozen day-old glazed donuts on her way over to the Take Off Pound Sensibly (TOPS) meeting. The donuts helped ease the pain of having to take the "pig" home again.

Thursday nights had been reserved for Jenny Craig, but were now open again. Barbara Jo had started on Jenny Craig, but after a couple of meetings realized that the snooty Jenny Craig Weight Loss Counselors actually thought that they knew better than she what it would take for her to loose weight. Barbara Jo quit in disgust. She was thinking that she would switch to the Thursday night TOPS meeting to free up some time. She could still swing by Menlow's on her way home from NutriSystem.

Barbara Jo was not one to feel sorry for herself. She had accepted her fate, dyed her hair red and developed an obsession for chocolate. She was mostly into chocolate cake, but it didn't really matter.

Although Barbara Jo viewed herself as generally happy, mobility was somewhat of a problem for her - that and cleansing her skin after using the bathroom. To get her mass in motion, Barbara Jo would simultaneously thrust her left shoulder and right hip in a forward direction. The shoulder rotation caused her huge chest to shift to the right, and the hip rotation shifted her massive belly to the left. In three or four alternating hip and shoulder movements she was under way. Her stark white, tree trunk legs scooted along underneath, just trying to keep up to the momentum of her upper body. Barbara Jo's butt cheeks moved separately from the rest of her body, pumping up and down like two giant pistons. All that shifting and churnning caused the floral pattern of Barbara Jo's moo moo to dance around like delicate plants in a stiff breeze. Up and down - back and forth - around and around.

The sight of Barbara Jo coming across the driveway gave Clarinda motion sickness.

"Hiiii Claaaariiiindaaaa," Barbara Jo smiled. Barbara Jo waved what had to have been about a fourth of a bunt cake and balanced a can of diet coke as she plodded along.

"Hi Babs," Clarinda returned her greeting.

Barbara Jo was already a fixture in the trailer park when Clarinda moved in. She and Clarinda had become fast friends because, well frankly because there was no one else to be friends with. The name Barbara Jo reminded Clarinda too much of Indiana, so she and Barbara Jo worked on a nickname. They tried B.J., but got laughed out of the Electric Pencil Sharpener. Finally they settled on Babs.

"Goin' out tonight", Babs inquired? "Nay, I'm on my way to Handy Andy for supplies" ,Clarinda answered. "Supplies for what," Babs' curiosity had peaked. "You know, the storm. Bertha, looks like a bitch of a hurricane coming right as us." Clarinda was halfway through the park, thumb poised for a ride.

Babs' chest began to heave. After hurricane Andrew, she had vowed to her Overeaters Anonymous group that she would never live through a storm like that again. As quickly as she could, Babs lumbered back to her trailer and threw open the phone book. "what was that guys' name, Cain, Cable, Kravitz, Kanker, that's it." She found the number and dialed frantically. A woman answered, "Kanker Salvage and Towing, this is Valerie, how can I help you?" "Hi, my name is Barbara Pheque, and I need tires for my trailer, well, mobile home." Valerie came back to the line, "hold please."

As anxious as Babs' was, she waited patiently. While she waited, she couldn't stop thinking (these were after all truly unusual circumstances) What if they don't have enough? What kind of rope should I use? How many is enough, Babs' said to herself?

Finally, Valerie returned to the phone and Babs' repeated her request. "Uh, yeah, I need tires for my mobile home."

Valerie sighed, she had heard the request too many times today. At least these were easy orders to fill. "Is it a two or three axle trailer," Valerie inquired.

"Two."

"What size," Valerie continued her questioning.

"I don't know!" Babs' was getting impatient. "It doesn't matter, as long as I can get them fast-I've got to get the hell out of here!"

Valerie didn't feel like dealing with this right now. Besides, old man Kankar always stocked up on trailer tires for the hurricane season. She'd never known him to fail to have the right size. "Well, OK. I'll send Mr. Kankar out with four each of the standard sized tires as soon as he returns. I'm sure it won't be a problem to get you fixed up."

Babs' was unusually alert today. "Just four," she asked.

No, Valerie said. "Four of each size."

"Uhh, OK" Babs' said thinking that there must be at least 5 or 6 standard sizes.

"Did you say you needed rope too?"

Babs' thought quickly, "Oh yeah, about 300 feet. Do you have it?"

"Yeah, no problem," Valerie replied quickly. She just wanted to get back to that article in Vanity Faire. The old man could figure out how to deal with this request.

Valerie made sure to get good directions for Old Man Kankar. He never could keep all those trailer parks in town straight.

Babs' had learned her lesson, after Andrew. She had literally ridden that storm out. She could still remember the awful noises her mobile home made as it rolled across the field with her in it! Man, what a mess. She'd really had to use a lot of Bondo and primer just to make it look respectable afterwards. She swore she'd never again let that happen to her pride and joy.

It had only been a couple of months ago when she was flipping through the month-old National Geographic she picked up from the Seven-11 dumpster. Man, she loved that magazine. No one else could cram as many pictures in a hundred pages.

She was looking over the pictures when there it was. The solution to her current problem. The tugboat pictured had tires tied to the sides so it wouldn't get all dented up when it pushed the big ships around. She made her plan right then for the next hurricane. When those tires showed up, she'd see to it that her trailer's paint job would be safe and sound.

With her pride and joy well protected (even if it did end up a few hundred yards from where it should be) she could focus her thoughts on just how she would get away from the hurricane.

Babs took a look in the fridge and got to work - She was always prepared with ingredients for "Simply Orgasmic-Banana-Walnut-Triple Chocolate Chip-Caramel Frosted-With a Cherry on Top-Muffins" on hand for catastrophes such as hurricanes. Every so often she would make a double batch when her fat clothes (as opposed to her "I've lost a whole pound!" clothes) didn't fit her just-right (which was definitely a problem - HOW could she DARE attend her weekly meetings not properly attired???).

Once they were mixed and put in the oven at the proper temperature, she had time to think of a plan. Her biggest question was how much could she fit into her Pinto hatchback? How could she be forced to decide what to take from her extensive collections of Elvis Presley velvet wall hangings, her ceramic mugs displaying "Native Pests of Our United States" (she was especially fond of the one depicting native roaches, she was always awed by the artists life-like interpretations).....

Babs gave a start when she looked up, saw that she had been pouring over her collections for well over an hour, and hadn't decided that a single item was expendable. She began to panic, her breath labored, a thin bead of sweat formed above her lip. "I can't leave my trailer to face this, I got to go. I got to get out of Sarasota. And I am never comin' back."

Just then the Kankar tire truck pulled up, and the sight startled Babs more than her impending doom. The truck was mostly a bright yellow, but it was incredibly ornate. It had been done in very intricate paisley type patterns, and there was a large golden Buddha mounted to the roof. When the truck came to a stop, a small man, dressed in white robes and sandals, hopped out. He had a half crazed grin, and he sported a long salt and pepper beard. As he approached the trailer, Babs could see clearly that this man was from the East, and she could hear him giggling all the way to the door.

There was no knock, yet Babs felt a compulsion to open the door. The man grinned, and said, "Hello, I am from the Kankar tires. You can call me Ravi, but to some I am Baba. Are you be needing some tires?" "I sure am BabaRavi," Babs had never been a very good listener.

"No, excuse if you please," Ravi said patiently while making chopping gestures to accent his words. "You say Ravi or Baba - not BabaRavi."

"Whatever," Babs snapped back. "I need some tires!"

"Well then," Ravi continued. "Let us take a look see underneath to determine the correct size you are needing."

"Underneath," Babs said not understanding what Ravi was talking about. "I need to know how many tires do ya figure it'll take to go around the outside of the trailer. I don't care what size they are."

Ravi couldn't hide his puzzlement. "Beg to excuse ma'am, but Ravi is not understanding."

"What's not to understand?" Babs answered impatiently. "I want to put tires all around the outside of my home so that my custom bondo/paint job doesn't get creamed when Bertha gets here."

Ravi cocked his head as if that, and squinting, would help him understand what she was talking about.

Babs had seen that look before and added, "Ya know, like a tug boat?"

"Please to excuse ma'am," Ravi questioned, not quite believing what he was hearing. "the tires are to go around the outside?" "Yes," Babs snapped, "that's why I need the rope. You did bring the rope, didn't you Babalouie?"

"Ma'am," Ravi answered, "my name is Ravi, just call me Ravi. And, yes I brought the rope just as you asked."

"Well then," Babs demanded, "how many tires to go around the outside?"

"I'm guessing about ten tires," Ravi answered dutifully.

"Then tie them on," Babs ordered.

"Excuse please ma'am," Ravi flinched, "but Ravi only bring eight tires."

"Then space them out!" Babs screamed.

Ravi turned to his truck and set about his job. "Customer always right," he mumbled under his breath. "Customer always right."

Babs went back inside and set about the job of sorting out what she could take with her. It didn't go any easier for her this time than it had the last time. She was just too attached to all of her personal treasures to leave anything behind. Babs felt lonely and miserable sitting by herself, clutching a velvet Elvis, and running her finger up and down the side of her favorite mug - the HardazzaRock Embalming Fluid Company ceramic mug with the "maggot buster" symbol on it. The mug had been given to her by someone special from her past. She agonized over what to do, and stared aimlessly at the mug.

Suddenly her eyes opened wide. Babs had come to a life altering conclusion. She would have to take it all with her -trailer and the whole deal. She would move. She would start over. She would get out of hurricane country and head inland where the damn things don't go!

Babs ran to the telephone, and dialed long distance information.

"What city?" the operator questioned.

"Attica," Babs stammered, "Attica, Indiana."

"Name?" the operator asked, with typical phone company warmth.

"Clifford," Babs answered, "Clifford Randall."

"I'm not showing a listing in that city for a Clifford Randall, ma'am," the operator announced in a tone of voice that was really saying, are you so dumb you don't know where you're calling.

"Ahh," Bab's mind raced, "try the Randall Funeral Parlor."

"Thank you," the operator answered, and switched off the line.

Babs carefully wrote down the numbers recited by the electronic operator, noting that the machine seemed to possess some warmth that the human operator lacked.

Babs stared at the telephone number, and began to think of Clifford. He was the only man who had ever ----- well let's just say he was the only man who had ever wanted her.

They had met six years ago at a desairology workshop co-sponsored by the beauty schools Babs was attending at the time, and the Northeastern Illinois School of Embalming and Funeral Directing. Both groups were there to learn the art hairdressing for decedents.

It was love at first sight for Clifford. Babs didn't think too much of him. Clifford was average height and only slightly overweight, but his hair was thinning and his body seemed to be almost totally void of muscle tone. He was about 40 years old when they met, and suffered from chronic middle age stinky bowel syndrome. His inability, or lack of desire, to control his flatulence fit his style, which was bib overalls (one flap hanging), a plaid flannel shirt buttoned to the top. The ensemble was pulled together by a tie he had bought at the Salvation Army Store in Lafayette. He was a funeral director after all, and he thought the tie gave him a professional look.

Even though she never fell in love with him she always thought of him fondly. He was the only man who ever complimented her on the way the fabric of her polyester pants clung to the dimples on her cellulite laden thighs. That made him special. He appreciated her like no man ever had, or for that matter ever would. She decided that maybe it was time to give him the chance he had always wanted, the chance to show her his undying love and affection. Besides, she had nowhere else to go and Bertha was comin' fast.

Without further thought she dial the number.

"Randall Funeral Parlor, where your loss is our gain" the voice on the other end said. "Can I help you?"

Babs knew right away that it was Clifford on the other end. He was always so classy and dignified when he was conducting business.

"Cliffy!" she said. "It's Barbara Jo."

Clifford was beside himself with joy. He had dreamt about her every night for years. He would pray that one day that polyester princess would come back into his life and profess her love for him.

"I can't believe it's really you Barbara Jo. Your voice is music to my ears."

"Say Cliffy, I was just wondering if I might come to live with you. I'm figuring I can do hair there at the parlor for you in exchange for a place to park my trailer. There's another hurricane a comin' and I'm gettin' out. So I figured since you're the only person I know who lives inland you're place is the obvious choice."

It wasn't quite the profession of love that he was looking for, but he jumped at the offer none the less. "Of course! I can hardly wait to see you again. It will be so great to work together side by side. When will you be here?" he said, thinking that if he got to be with her every day she was sure to see him for the remarkable catch that he was. Why, he was the sharpest dresser in town, and his mamma told him that his lack of front teeth gave him real character. He just knew he could woo her if given half the chance and this was it.

Babs was so glad that he agreed. If he hadn't taken her, her only other option would have been to join that fat commune in Utah, and she had offended more than her share of door to door Mormon ministers.

"I'm headin' out tomorrow" she said. "It'll probably take a good week and a half to get there. My pinto tends to over heat when I pull the trailer."

"Barbara honey, please drive safely and wear your seat belt and call me collect if you need to and don't pick up hitchhikers and........" Babs finely interrupted by telling Cliff she'd do all of these things and couldn't wait to see him again. She hung the receiver on the old rotary phone she'd picked up at an auction not knowing whether to say goodbye or hello. She was leaving her home and starting a new life, one she had never before experienced. A man, whom she hadn't seen in six (was it really six) years. Babs began to feel frightened when there was a knock at the door.

Ravi didn't bother waiting for an answer and poked his head around the corner of the door. "I will be needing you to be removing yourself from your trailer, I only brought my four ton jack to be lifting your house up." "Oh, okay." Babs left the trailer and inside of it, her apprehension. "No, damn it," she thought to herself, "I'm getting the hell out of Florida." "When do you think you'll be done Ravioli?" Ravi had decided at this point that the woman was not going to use his proper name and answered, "it will be just one or more seconds.......there finished," as he appeared from underneath the trailer. Babs helped pick the little man up off the ground and dusted some of the red Florida clay from his pants. "Can ya bill me?"

"Bill you?" thought Ravi, "I may be a little bad with talking in the English, but I am not stupid.' He was about to answer when he looked up. The light of the pre-storm sun cast an orange-red hue on the day, and as it bounced off of the large bay window on the front of the trailer it caught the fuzzy follicles that adorned Babs' upper lip, forming tiny prisms in the perspiration that made it's home there. Despite all the years of study, all hours in meditation, all the meals of vegetables and water, the Baba was no longer at peace. He was, in fact, quite agitated, and standing fully erect. Ravi was in love.

"So can you or not?" Babs screeched.

"Please to excuse, ma'am. Ravi does not understand question you ask of me as I am standing here beside myself." Ravi slid his clipboard down just below his waist to hide his obvious excitement.

"Don't give me that dribble," Babs shot back. "Can you bill me or not!"

"If you please ma'am, the old man Kankar give no credit. Even to a volume customer such as yourself," Ravi answered, wondering how she knew he was about to dribble.

"So, how do you want it," Babs sighed.

Ravi's cheeks reddened. He could not believe how forward American women could be. "Even a vixen such as yourself must pay cash money."

Ravi's babbling was becoming more and more annoying to Babs. She motioned for him to follow as she turned and headed into the trailer to look for money.

Ravi, under the impression that he was about to score, clutched the pouch around his neck and checked it for the Trojan that his uncle had persuaded him to carry around. He gave a knowing smile as he rubbed his fingers over the thin and faded package.

While Ravi was planning his encounter, Babs was trying to figure out how she would pay him.

"Look, Babar," Babs sighed, "I have to get out of town fast, and I don't have time for all this foolishness."

Ravi, not thinking clearly, took this as an invitation and asked, "Where are we going?"

Babs, paying more attention to what was under the cushions of her couch than what Ravi was saying, mumbled, "Indiana."

Ravi couldn't believe his good fortune. He had dreamt of returning home. Now he had his chance and with such a fine American woman.

"Wait a minute," Babs blurted. "What do you mean WE. "You got a turd in your pocket?"

"No," Ravi pleaded, "it is Ravi's homeland, you must take me with you. Ravi no like Florida."

"Hell," Babs replied spitting crumbs from a half chewed Simply Orgasmic-Banana-Walnut-Triple Chocolate Chip-Caramel Frosted-with a Cherry on Top muffin, "if you'll forget the bill and tow my trailer, I'll take you to the ends of the earth!"

He smiled and said, "Ravi very much likes what he is hearing, but it will not be necessary for me to go to ends of earth, India is far enough."

"We call it Indiana in this country," Babs spouted.

Finally, things were looking up for Babs. The storm hadn't hit yet, she had her tires in place, and now she had a tow truck and driver. The way she saw it, they were ready to hit the road.

Ravi ran as quickly as he could to the Kanker Salvage and Towing truck. He threw open the door and jumped onto the seat, slamming his head hard against the roof of the Ford. "Oh, does that hurt," Ravi thought to himself as he reached up with his hand to rub the injury. "Wet, wet, can't be, this can not be happening to me," Ravi began to panic even before he pulled his hand away to assess the damage.

Blood, it was warm, wet and beginning to run down his skull. It formed little crimson rivers flowing unabated to the bridge of his nose. The smell and the loss of the liquid made Ravi weak and nauseous. He fell to the ground.

Babs was startled by the thud Ravi's body made as it hit parking lot. She turned to see the man lying in a heap. Babs waddled to the truck to investigate, thinking, "now what." She approached and noticed something dangling from the roof of the vehicle. Upon closer inspection, it was a piece of the man's skull, hair attached, hanging from the bolts which attached the flashing amber light to top of the truck. At that moment, the odor of blood wafted up to her nose and she vomited.

***************************************************************************

The fiery smell of roasting curry startled Ravi as consciousness crept slowly back into his brain. He opened his eyes and was startled to find himself in the humble home he knew as a child. The sound of fresh meat sizzling in the heavy iron pan brought him to a seated position. Everything was as it should be, except that this house was destroyed by monsoons twenty three years previously.

By the hearth, his mother was preparing the curry that would be accompanied by lentils, rice and flatbreads. The thought of such a feast made his mouth water. "Ma", he cried, "I love you, that smell so good, I would be wanting to eat some nowly."

"Oy, vhat you talking? You can't eat, I'm a hallucination, you mashoogina," his mother laughingly replied. "Why else would I be talking to you in better English than you got, me being dead, and all, and never left the Punjab?"

"Oh oh my my, that be good and right. Oh ma, you do look like crazy great, and that food smell like Krishna's own, but I must get back, you see, I met someone."

"I know, my god, I know, that why I'm here. I'm a ghost, you are getting one of those, like, what do you call, visions. I don't got much time, so I'm gonna give you the straight poop. You are gonna go with this Babs chick, and she's gonna need your help. There's gonna be trouble, and it's gonna involve a cow and some fried fish. Don't worry, big boy, you'll know what to do. And right now you think you love this goyem, but you don't. The thing is, by going with her, you get to find something better."

"Oh, do I get enlightenment- is it Nirvana?" Ravi's eyes lit up at the thought.

"Keep your pants on, Baba Luey, I can't tell you. You never find Nirvana by lookin' for it, anyway. Well, gimme a hug, gotta go. You drive careful, and you'll need an aspirin for that headache."

"But I have no such pain," he informed his mother as they exchanged a quick embrace. Suddenly his mother dematerialized, and he found himself lying flat on his back looking feebly into a very bright light, a searing pain ripping through his head.