Outside of their Jurisdiction

"I know, but then Sheriff Lard ass wins," Ronnie sighed.

"Lard...ass?" Francine teased, pausing by the door of the stairs, giving a little wiggle to her rear end.

"Go," Ronnie smiled. "Mr. Burrelli, I get you anything else?"

The Science teacher smiled and urged his bulk to the register to pay for his meal. Quietly, the morbidly obese asked Ronnie if he knew which judge had signed such a broad sweeping search warrant. Ronnie disclosed that it had been Judge Burkeholder.

A few days after the Birch-Glover wedding, Sheriff Duplantis pulled Ronnie over as he and Francine drove from making a delivery of a birthday cake and a lasagna dinner for Mr. Swanson's ninety ninth birthday. This was another occasion Deborah had expected to cater, but again had been edged out by Ronnie and Spuntzin General Store.

Ronnie was handcuffed and thrown into the rear of the patrol car. A frightened Francine drove the pickup truck to the store and called Bruce Duncan.

Sheriff Duplantis smirked as he informed the attorney that one Ronald Johnathon Spuntzin would be arraigned Monday morning in front of Judge Burkeholder. As it was Wednesday, there was no reason to hold Ronnie for this extended period of time, other than to inconvenience Ronnie and the general store's clientele.

While Ronnie lay on a cot in a cell, Deputy Charlie Tate smirked to himself as he pulled Sally and Suzie's Bloutchen's small Volkswagen Beetle over. He did not radio it in; the cute little brunettes had actually broken no laws. He just enjoyed intimidating cute little girls whenever he had the opportunity to do so.

"License," he demanded as Suzie sat behind the wheel of the small car.

"Yes sir," Suzie said, rifling through her purse for a few minutes. "Um, um, oh where did it go?"

"Uh, where's your sister?" Charlie asked, noticing that the twin was alone.

"Hmm? She was here a minute ago," Suzie said, finally locating the license.

"You," Charlie barked, nodding his head toward Sally when she got into the passenger seat. "Where were you?"

"Had to tinkle," Sally admitted.

"Huh," Charlie said, making a show of looking around. "Well, don't see no bathrooms out here. You know urinating in public is against the law?"

"I believe it is a misdemeanor," Sally said. "But, can you prove I urinated in public? Did you see me pee anywhere?"

"I bet he'd like to," Suzie suggested and the two girls giggled to each other.

Charlie thrust the license at Suzie and scowled as the two girls zipped away. Apparently, they were not intimidated by his presence or by being pulled over by a police officer. Suzie's license had said they were sixteen years old; as cute as they were, he couldn't afford getting involved with two underaged girls.

And, getting into his patrol car, Deputy Charlie Tate found out where Sally had tinkled. The urine soaked into his uniform trousers and seeped into the leather and foam rubber of his seat. For several long moments, he sat, wondering what to do.

It took quite a while to scrub the seat clean. It also took quite a while for the seat to fully dry. For days afterward, Charlie imagined he could feel the moisture seeping into his skin, imagined he could smell the odor of urine in the car.

There were two people sitting in cells that evening. The other prisoner, an older man that was being held awaiting transfer back to Norwill, Tennessee was fed a plate dinner by a smirking Deborah Sidloe. She declared no one had told her to prepare more than one plate meal that evening. The smirk was erased from her face when Ronnie allowed that he was grateful he was not being forced to eat any of her food.

A few moments later, Francine entered, accompanied by Bruce Duncan. Because the attorney was with Mrs. Spuntzin, Chuck Sinclair, the desk sergeant did not attempt to detain the woman. He did not attempt to confiscate the hamburger and French fries the woman carried.

Ronnie happily ate the hamburger and French fries his wife had made for him. He also enjoyed the glowering looks Sheriff Duplantis and Chuck Sinclair were shooting his way.

"I'm trying to get a hold of Judge Kragle; there is no reason to hold you without charging you with a crime, other than resisting arrest," Bruce whispered. "Unfortunately, he's on vacation and all cases are transferred to that jackass Burkeholder."

"You can't get no one at the state office?" Francine whined.

"Gee, why didn't I think of that?" Bruce rolled his eyes at Francine. "Yes, I put a call in to the Attorney General's office this afternoon. Still waiting on him to call back."

Some of Zed Duplantis' satisfaction abated when he came into his home. Theresa was engaged in full combat with Eva and Ada, his daughters from his first marriage. And, rather than obeying his orders, the two girls argued their case against Theresa.

"And, do you have any idea why the Attorney General's office would call here? Zed, what, what did you do this time?" Theresa snarled when the bedlam finally died down.

"Oh, I got your little teacher's pet in on resisting arrest," the Sheriff smirked.

"What was he being arrested for?" Theresa asked.

"I just told you, resisting arrest," he said.

"No, Zed, what was the original charge? What did he do that caused you to want to arrest him in the first place?" Theresa snapped.

The bedlam kicked up again when Eva and Ada declared they were not eating the dinner Theresa had prepared. Ann, Theresa's daughter decided she too did not want to eat the dinner her mother had prepared. Theresa did smirk when Eva demanded a hamburger from Spuntzin's; no, she did not want anything her Aunt Deborah cooked. Aunt Deborah, in Eva's assessment could not cook.

"Momma, I'm hungry," Ann whined as Theresa was washing the dishes from her meal.

"I'm sure you are," Theresa spat. "Maybe if you'd eaten what I'd put in front of you, you might not be hungry."

"We're hungry too," Ada whined.

"And isn't that just a God damned shame?" Theresa said breezily.

That night, after Theresa endured the usual struggle of getting the three girls to bathe, then go to sleep, Zed forced himself on his limp, compliant wife. After ejaculating into her, he rolled over and fell asleep.

"Wakey, wakey," a voice growled into his ear while a hand slapped his cheeks, hard.

"Huh?" the large man mumbled, trying to reach his off-duty.38 under his pillow.

He realized he could not move his arms or legs. Apparently he'd been secured to the four fat posts at each corner of their king sized bed.

"Untie me at once," Zed barked in an authoritative voice.

"Sure, sure, soon as we're finished," the man said and now Zed saw that there was another man.

Both men were wearing ski masks over their faces. Both were dressed in white tee shirts and dungarees. Identification would be impossible; he could not even verify that both intruders were male.

"What, what do you want?" Zed asked, noticing that both men held lengths of pipes in their hands.

In answer, both men brought the pipes down upon Zed's hands. One man quickly dropped a pillow over the Sheriff's mouth to muffle the anguished screams. When the screams died in Zed's throat, the pillow was taken away.

The procedure was repeated on the large man's knees. Then both feet were likewise battered with the lengths of pipes.

"Hey, Slick? You notice? This lump of fat hasn't even asked about his wife?" one man said.

"Or his kids," the other man agreed.

"That just shameful," the first man said.

The first man gave a swing Arnold Palmer would have been proud of. Zed threw up as the pipe connected solidly with his testicles. He passed out when the other man gave a second swing that smashed into his large balls.

Coming to, Zed saw he was no longer bound to the bedposts. Looking over, he saw the face of his wife, a handkerchief gagging her. Her arms were tied behind her back and her ankles were tied to her wrists. He gasped out as he attempted to loosen her gag; both of his hands were broken.

Slowly, painfully, he managed to work the gag loose. She sneered hatefully at the man.

"Go!" she hissed bitterly. "Go check on your God damned daughters; make sure they didn't kill the miserable little bitches."

"Mis..." he asked as he lumbered to sit up.

Waves of pain engulfed him, radiating outward from his severely beaten testicles. Groaning in misery, he placed his feet upon the floor and collapsed from the excruciating pain. Several bones were broken in each foot. Attempting to roll onto hands and knees reminded him that the attackers had also bashed his kneecaps.

"God, you are absolutely useless," Theresa hissed, voice filled with hatred.

"Aargh," Zed groaned, wondering how to move his immense bulk without aggravating his injuries.

"Get your fat, useless ass up here and untie me," Theresa ordered. "Just like everything else, I'll do it. Why not? I do everything else around here while you just sit around..."

Somehow Zed did manage to untie one of her hands. Quickly, efficiently, she managed to untie her other wrist and her ankles. Then she strode from their bedroom.

"Girls are fine. But the telephone doesn't work," she announced. So I need to drive down to the Winn-Dixie and use the pay phone out front."

Disappearing from sight, she marched to the door. Lying in the bed, exhausted from his beating and the struggle of untying his wife, Zed reflected on the pure animosity his wife had displayed.

Her eyes alone, glaring at him with utter contempt as he labored to unknot the sodden hankderchif from her mouth had startled him. Then, once the gag was removed, her hateful, hurtful words cut him to the quick. Because his hands were battered, he could not put her in her place, could not stifle the words.

Then, she had damned the girls. She had called them miserable little bitches. She'd not even made any distinction between Eva and Ada and her own daughter, Ann.

"There's a pile-up on nine and sixteen," Theresa announced, striding into the bedroom once more. "So, Clarkston County says they don't know when they'll be able to send an ambulance and both Adam and Dan are tied up with the accident. So you'll just have to wait."

"You, you called..." Zed croaked.

"Yes, Zed, I called the station and the hospital directly," Theresa snarled, anticipating his query.

"No, no, you called, you said they were God-damned miserable little bitches," Zed said.

"Because that's what they are. They are miniature versions of you," Theresa spat, sitting in the chair next to the wall. "If I thought it would hurt you? I would kill them right now. But because none of them have a cock? You wouldn't shed a tear over their deaths and I would go to prison for nothing."

"Hurt, you would..." Zed sputtered, truly shocked.

"You God damned right I want to hurt you. You God damned right I want you to suffer," Theresa snarled, voice full of venom. "I don't know how you slipped that marijuana in my purse; I know I've never seen it before but..."

A hard knock at the door interrupted Theresa's accusations. She glared at Zed then marched out of the bedroom.

"God damned, Adam; the girls are asleep," Zed heard Theresa shrill at his Deputy. "Probably not sleeping now, thanks to your banging on the door like an idiot."

An ambulance came forty minutes later. Zed explained to the two young men the extent of his injuries. Adam assisted the two scrawny young men in hefting Zed's bulk from the bed onto the gurney and followed as they wheeled his boss out of the house.

His hands, and legs from just above his knees to his toes were set in plaster casts. Adam drove his boss home just as the sun was beginning to break the eastern horizon.

"Well, you're about to find out who your true friends are," Theresa quipped from the stove as Zed shuffled into the house.

"What? What do you mean?" Zed asked, very relaxed from the pain medication the hospital had given him.

"You think I'm going to hold your pathetic little pee-pee for you? You seriously think I'm going to wipe your ass?" Theresa spat at him.

"Uh, I'll check on you later, Sheriff," Adam said, eyes wide as he looked at the hateful look Theresa was shooting at her husband.

Zed decided to put his hard cast to use. He moved to club Theresa across her face. She very easily blocked the clumsy maneuver, then shoved him. For a split second, Zed waved his arms, trying to maintain his balance. Then he toppled backward and crashed to the kitchen floor with a thunderous thump.

"You ever try to hit me again, you fat sack of lard?" Theresa snarled, large knife in her hand.

It was a giggling Sally and Suzie Bloutchen that brought Ronnie his breakfast. Charlie looked up from the report of the five car pileup on sixteen and nine and glared hatefully at the twins. The girls looked at him and burst into peals of laughter.

Coach Woods was the one to bring Ronnie his lunch. Officer Larry Gordon thought to deny the man access to the prisoner, but a narrowing of the coach's eyes stifled the command in Larry's throat.

Sheriff Duplantis managed to shuffle into the building at one thirty in the afternoon. Glancing down the hall to the cells, Sheriff Duplantis glared hatefully at the solitary prisoner. Then, looking at Larry, the sheriff got an evil grin on his face.

"All right, Spuntzin," he barked, unlocking the door to Ronnie's cell.

Ronnie looked at the plaster casts on the man's hands. Sheriff Duplantis had fumbled with the keys for a few moments before managing to grip the correct key between forefinger and middle finger. Ronnie didn't like the look on the man's face; the Sheriff's eyes were glazed and saliva was trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

"You're free to go," the sheriff announced.

"Sure, sure," Ronnie said. "Just let me call my wife to come get me."

Pay phone's right across the street," Sheriff Duplantis said, pointing across the street to the hardware store.

"Well, golly gosh, I don't have any change," Ronnie said, parking his rear end onto the bench in the lobby of the police department.

"Here's a nickel, Spuntzin," Larry smiled, flipping a coin to Ronnie.

"No, think I'll just wait until she comes with my dinner," Ronnie smiled, letting the coin clatter to the old black and white tile floor.

"No, Spuntzin; you ain't going loiter in my lobby," Sheriff Duplantis barked, spittle spraying from his mouth.

"And I damned sure ain't stepping outside so that the two of you can put a couple bullets into my back, claiming I was trying to escape," Ronnie said.

"You, you accusing me? You accusing me of..." Sheriff Duplantis barked.

A muffled 'boom' was faintly heard from the direction of the Bloutchen County Courthouse. The three men looked toward the glass door, in the general direction of the squat single story courthouse. The telephone on the desk sergeant's desk rang. Larry strode over and answered the telephone. His piggish eyes opened wide and his mouth fell open.

"Sheriff! A car done blowed up at the courthouse!" Larry announced.

"You! Get back in your cell," Sheriff Duplantis ordered Ronnie, shuffling as quickly as he could toward the door. "Gordon, get Jones and Cooper on the telephone and meet me at the courthouse.

Ronnie shrugged and let himself into his cell again.

Three hours later, a wide-eyed Francine carried Ronnie's lasagna dinner into the courthouse. Breathlessly, she relayed the news; Judge Burkeholder had been blown up. He had adjourned court for the day, climbed into his brand new 1966 Lincoln Continental and when he put the gleaming black automobile into gear, it had exploded in a ball of fire.

"Huh!" Ronnie said.

"I mean, we all heard it! BOOM!" Francine said.

The General Store was just down the street from the courthouse. Francine said the glass had rattled from the force of the explosion. Everyone in the store had run outside when it grew too crowded around the window.

"Oh! Oh, Mr. Burrelli, that mean old Science teacher wants to know why you don't do doughnuts," Francine continued her breathless narration.

Deputy Adam Jones and Officer Larry Gordon returned just as Francine was leaving. Both men looked very green and Ronnie listened as the two police officers quietly discussed the scene of that afternoon's drama.

"I mean, God! Looked like bacon," Adam whispered.

"That, that's enough," Larry groaned.

"I mean, looked like bacon," Adam repeated.

"Damn it, man! I don't want hear 'bout it!" Larry yelled, rushing to the restroom, hand over his mouth.

"Hey Larry," Ronnie cheerfully called out when a pale and shaking Larry left the restroom a few minutes later.

"Yeah?" Larry growled at Ronnie.

"Ever had the breakfast special at Spuntzin's? Two eggs any style, four nice crispy strips of bacon, and I do mean that bacon is crispy, a bowl of grits; you know, some people like crumbling the bacon up into the grits..." Ronnie taunted.

"God damn you," Larry groaned, hurring to the restroom again.

While Larry was emptying his guts, while Adam was using the hunt and peck method of typing to write up the report, Sheriff Zed Duplantis was laboring to drive himself home. The casts on his hands just left the tips of his fingers protruding; he'd struggled mightily to get the key into the ignition. Then, he cursed himself for not getting an automatic transmission. Holding the steering wheel had also been challenging until he figured out how to loop his thumbs around the wheel.

Getting home, he struggled for several minutes on how to get the car door open. Then, climbing the steps to the front door, he knocked on the door. Theresa's station wagon was not in front of the home and Zed resigned himself to having to somehow unlock the front door.

"We're hungry," Eva whined, opening the door as he tried to dig his keys from his trouser pocket.

"Well, damn, get Theresa to..." Zed barked.

"She ain't here," Ada said.

"Shit," Zed said, remembering that the station wagon wasn't in front of the house. "Well, where'd she go?"

"I don't know. I'm hungry," Eva whined.

'Go to Hell,' was printed on a single sheet of paper on the kitchen table. Zed felt his energy leave him and he sat at the table. He did not pay attention to the three whining girls as he stared at the sheet of paper.

"Eva, go on call your Aunt Deborah," Zed finally sighed.

"I don't like her," Ann whined.

"Yeah, she don't cook good," Ada agreed.

"Her cooking's better than mine," Zed reminded them.

The next day, the state police came to Bloutchen County, investigating the homicide of a state judge. Again, it was Sally and Suzie that delivered Ronnie's breakfast. Both girls flirted shamelessly with the handsome state trooper then giggled as they looked at Deputy Charlie Tate. Charlie barked that he was going on patrol and stomped out of the police building.

A few hours later, Charlie spotted the VW Beetle parked in front of the Spuntzin General Store. He pulled up to the gas pump and ordered the young man to fill it up. The young man smiled as he popped the hood of the police cruiser and checked the oil level. Charlie swaggered into the store and saw Sally and Suzie dancing to an old Beatles song. Marching up to them, he glowered at them.

"Hi Deputy Tate," Suzie giggled.

"Hi Deputy," Sally said, preening and batting her eyelashes at the police officer.

"Hey, Deputy, where's your car?" Suzie asked, looking past Charlie to the large plate glass window.

"That new kid's filling it up," Charlie snarled, still attempting to intimidate the girls.

"What new kid?" Francine asked from the grill.

"The new boy you got working out there," Charlie said, waiving with his hand toward the gas pump.

"Deputy, we don't have any boy working here," Francine said. "There's just me and Momma. I'm right here..."

"And I'm right here," Polly May said, coming from behind the counter with a rack of freshly sliced and packaged bread.