DICKEY DEW
by barry graham
DICKEY DEW
One of my father’s friends never had a name so everyone called him Dickey Dew because he said that’s what everyone called him after he got his balls shot off in Vietnam. I used to sit on his lap while they played five card draw and he would pretend not to see me sipping from his can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
My mother walked into the kitchen as I set the beer back down on the table, and I got scared and spilled it all over my lap and down my pant leg. My father always laughed when people got scared. Some of the beer spilled on Dickey Dew’s pants. He told me to play his hand while he tried to convince my mother to clean him up. I had four to a flush and a pair of tens. I dumped one of the tens, missed my flush and watched my father rake in the pot.
“You’re a brave little son of a bitch.”
I knew I wasn’t. It’s just easier to fuck up when the cards you’re holding don’t belong to you. Besides, if it was my money I would have kept the other ten and beat my father’s sad pair of sixes.
Dickey Dew came back to the table and realized I just cost him forty dollars.
“You dumb little bastard, you play just as stupid as your old man.”
He picked up a knife lying on the table, held it level with my eyes, then leaned down and thrust it in the side of his own leg. My father laughed, and I cried as I reached under the table and felt piss running slowly down my other leg and mixing with the puddle of beer still underneath my chair. Then Dickey Dew started laughing too, as he pulled the knife out and cut a straight line down his jeans and folded them back to show me his wooden leg - one more thing that got shot off over in the jungle.
My father was the only one who made a dime playing poker at his table. He probably would have won even if he didn’t teach me signals so I could let him know what everyone else was holding every hand. He kissed me on the cheek, and sent me to bed with my ten dollar cut.
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Wow! Now that's an opening, and I will teach it. No one wants to be taught in college, but sorry. That's how I roll. They pay me.
S
good stuff, b. is this part of the collection that your elimae story is part of?
thanks fellas.
scott:
no this is part of the national virginity pledge.
Your flash fiction has such a knock out punch. I look forward to reading more.
How can you not dig a story called Dickey Dew? I agree with Sean: great opening.
That's a great first paragraph. I enjoyed this whole story. I especially like the ending, you could have cut it off at the jungle and you didn't, and this is the right ending, just the right ending to this piece and this poker game.
Perfect ending to a fine story.
Ooooh, I really like this one, Barry.
The shock of knife in leg, the kid's vulnerability paired with his beer-sneaking and cheating, work so nicely to create a terrifically huggable character.
Who will he turn out to be when he grows up? That's what I want to know.
One question, though, if I may: Why past tense?
There's a moment being captured here, and everything about it's working; but I wonder about the place in time from which the narrator's recounting this scene, this memory, and then why.
I'd like to read more from this collection sometime.
thanks everyone for the nice comments.
molly:
i thought about the tense of this piece for awhile. but i ultimately went with past tense because thats where this moment belongs to this narrator.
Oooh, I like that answer: "That's where this moment belongs."
Good answer.
This is great, Barry. A great flash!
"after he got his balls shot off in Vietnam. I used to sit on his lap"
The way those lines bled into one another was brilliant!
I enjoyed the story - liked the surprises all the way through - to the very last cut.
Great work, Barry. I love this. Real heart. I loved the "sad pair of sixes" line.
This is so good in every way.
"It’s just easier to fuck up when the cards you’re holding don’t belong to you."
Amazing sentence. And the rest of them are pretty great, too.
You don't want to get between a father and son. Love the boy's swing of emotions, and how his bladder doesn't poker face.
Lots of fun. I liked the way this ended up. And one can smell the beer in the room's air. Nice little pearls of wisdom thrown into the murky waters of being where you can only be because it's who you are.
i read this online somehwere, i can't remember where. i like how it makes me wince first with the knife going into the leg, then get relieved that it's a wooden leg, then wince harder again because the leg was shot off.
thanks for the kind words ya'llz
I hit this one late. I really enjoyed it. It's tight,smart and funny. I know these guys.
thanks larry
It's funny and disturbing and great.
Happy ending to a disturbing scene. Very enjoyable.
D
funny and terrifying. well done.
thanks ya'llz
really well done. great opening, great turns
Terrific, I actually got pissed at the guy. Ha ha. That's a pun.
its nice to see there are people who still appreciate a good pun.
my father was on an aircraft carrier that circled the china sea. Once there was a fire on ship and a wall came down on him pinning him to the floor while the fore grew around him. His shipmates came and got him out, but I remember years later my father used to sleepwalk. He'd walk the walls with his hands because he was looking for hot spots.