Scott McClanahan - The Collected Works of Scott McClanahan Vol. I

I dreamed about how he was a moonshiner once, and then he was a moonshiner no more.

And then I woke up.

I heard a voice outside the door saying, “Are you okay in there?”

I was still just sprawled on the floor. “Are you okay in there?” she said, trying to get the door open, but because I was passed out in front of it, the door wouldn’t budge.

I cleared my throat and tried being as normal as possible. “Oh yeah I’m fine. Just give me a second. I think I’m just getting ready to pass a kidney stone.”

Then the old woman said, “Well sonny, we don’t allow people to pass kidney stones at the One Stop.”

I didn’t listen to her though.

I got up and unbuckled my pants and felt glass moving inside of me. Then I felt it moving through me and I passed it.

I SAW SOMETHING I COULDN’T BELIEVE.

I watched the kidney stone float in the toilet water and then sink.

THEN I HEARD SOMETHING I COULDN’T BELIEVE.

IT WAS A LOUD VOICE SHOUTING FROM HIGH ABOVE.

I COULDN’T EVEN TALK ABOUT IT.

The old woman said, “Do I need to call the law? I’ll call the law if I have to.”

“No I’m fine. I’m fine,” I said, standing over the toilet. “Just give me a second.”

I washed my face and walked outside.

They were all standing there and looking at me strange. It was like somebody didn’t come in and pass out in the gas station bathroom every day.

I walked outside and I felt like everything was different now.

I felt like the old life was behind me.

I drove off to work and wondered if it really happened. I wondered if I saw what I saw and heard what I heard. And when I got to work I sat in the car for a few minutes before I went inside and asked myself, “Did that really happen? Did that…really…happen?”

When I went inside work I didn’t tell anybody about the pain from the kidney stones on the way there. I didn’t tell them about what had gone down.

And they didn’t tell me about their pain either.

They didn’t tell me about how their dads drank.

And the woman in the corner didn’t tell me about how her husband cheated on her and she thought about killing herself.

The man in the front didn’t tell me his mother died when he was eleven years old, and every day when he came home, he watched her die. He watched her die every day beside the television cartoons.

The other girl in the back didn’t tell about how she was raped one night by this older guy when she was thirteen.

I didn’t tell them about my pain either.

I didn’t tell them about how Saul saw a blinding light on the road to Damascus and changed his name to Paul.

I didn’t tell them about how everything changes in this world.

How could I?

How could I tell them about what happened to me in the bathroom on the way there?

How could I tell them about the blinding light, and how I passed a kidney stone shaped like a crucifix? How could I tell them about hearing a loud voice, shouting from on high, “Surely this is the TRUE Son of God in whom I’m well pleased. Arise now and awake the new prophet of the Lord.”

And how can I tell you now what I know for sure?

How can I tell you now that my kingdom is at hand?

GO FORTH AND PREACH THIS GOSPEL CHILDREN.

Who knows what his name was really? All I know is we used to call him Hernia Dog and he was always hanging around school, playing with the kids at recess time. We used to play with him too, running like hell out into the fields so we could play smear the queer and pinecone football. Hernia Dog was always right there, sitting all floppy-eared and young, with his hernia belly bouncing around. I guess it was a hernia. There was a growth of some kind hanging off of his side.

The girls in our class like Nicole and Ammie screamed for him to come play, and Hernia Dog chased after them too and listened as they gossiped about who was getting their periods and who liked who.

Then Hernia Dog watched the boys bloody each other’s noses in our smear the queer fiascos. But the whole time — it was like he was different than other dogs. The whole time it was like he was one of us.

And now these were the days in the mountains when dogs were still not to be trusted. These were the days when packs of wild dogs still roamed the woods. It had been just a couple of weeks before that Nathan Adkins’ little brother Nick was walking home and this pack of wild dogs jumped him and he almost died. One bit a big chunk out of his neck, and one bit his leg, and he just kicked and cried in his mother’s arms until the ambulance came. He was a little guy in the 4 thgrade walking home from school one day and a pack of wild dogs almost ripped him to shreds. This is what happens sometimes in this crazy world.

Of course, these dogs were never caught. But Hernia Dog wasn’t one of them. Hernia Dog was our friend. We knew he’d never join an outlaw dog gang and betray us, but what did we know about him.

What did we know about him when one day after school, I was walking back behind the football field with my friend Michael Chapman, and we saw Hernia Dog chained up to his dog house next to a porch? It was a half fallen down trailer/house with piles of dog turds all around it like little land mines. And there was a scary-looking guy working on a coal truck in the front yard. When Hernia Dog saw us he started whining a whine like, “Hey guys? I know you. Hey guys? You know me too.”

But the scary looking guy working on the coal truck just walked over and yelled at him. Shut-up.

And so Hernia Dog shut up and we kept on walking.

A couple of days later somebody said something about Hernia Dog.

It was Randy Doogan and he started telling us about how he saw Hernia do something strange the day before.

He started telling about how Hernia Dog was sitting on top of his dog house, but then all of a sudden it looked like he was contemplating something.

He was trying to get his chain caught on purpose.

He was trying to get it caught.

He was trying to get it caught.

And then finally…the chain caught.

And just as it did — Hernia Dog walked to the side of the dog house and looked over like he was going to jump. The other dogs barked and yelped and started raising holy hell.

Yelp.

Yelp.

They were barking because Hernia Dog was getting ready to do something wrong.

So the scary-looking guy came over and grabbed him by the collar. He cussed and kicked Hernia Dog for being a damn coward who was thinking about trying to take his own life. And then he scolded him and said that suicides go to hell.

He told him it’s better to suffer like the rest of us than have all of that pain go away.

But Randy swore it was true.

We all laughed at how ridiculous his story was.

But of course we were in junior high now. We didn’t really see Hernia Dog anymore. Every now and then he’d get loose.

And we’d see him outside the school, waiting for us to come outside.

But now when we came outside to change classes or go to football practice, we didn’t run and call his name and tickle his bulge like before. We just walked on by and he’d follow behind us — wondering what went wrong.

Something always goes wrong, doesn’t it?

And so it seemed like years passed before we ever saw him again. It was the night of the 9 thgrade dance and I was there with my girl Jamie who I used to have brilliant conversations with, like…

What are you doing?

Nothing.

What are you doing?

Nothing.

Silence for awhile.

Okay.

Bye.

Okay.

Bye.

So here we were together.

And everybody else was getting ready to dance.

You know the kind?