Life Is a Donner Party

By Tarry Stools

I didn't go looking for a fight. Just a little sunshine. I had intended to go to the university, but I got a different education entirely.

When a kid from the city lands in Humboldt County, California, the locales put on a show, essentially resulting in murder.

When values clash, common sense goes out the window. A high-tech murder is sanctioned by law enforcement as the culture grapples with its identity.

Culturally, we learn from each other. We take from each other. Life is a Donner party.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524568436

Tarry Stools

Tarry Stools lives in the United States. The author is now a disabled person still living in Northern California.

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Copyright © 2017 by Tarry Stools.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2017901785

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-5245-6844-3

      eBook         978-1-5245-6843-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/17/2017

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I didn’t know Doobie and Pym well. I had been knocking around Arcata for a few years. I had come to Humboldt with the intention of attending the university there. I had become side-tracked and found myself applying sheet-rock compound in order to finish the addition we were putting on Doobie and Pym’s house.

Doobie and Pym hadn’t had any children; they were adding a large social room as they called it.

I had met Doobie when we were both working on the same construction project. Doobie is Arcata, all the way. I would describe the Arcata, mentality in a generalization, this way; a scattered collection of thoughts unified by a strong desire to maintain a delusional reality. The net-affect of this, as far as I could tell, was a great un-founded arrogance regarding their ideals. I don’t know how people with this condition relate to their own behavior. I must say, my eyes were opened when, on the construction site, I couldn’t help but hear Doobie yelling at the back-hoe operator.

Marvin! You useless piece of trash, I could dig a straighter ditch drunk and stoned!

Marvin looked at Doobie, shook his head a bit, and said:

O.K. big guy, do you want to dig the hole?

Doobie grabbed his considerable belly and laughed out loud.

Nothing had prepared me for what was to come, despite Doobie’s sometimes questionable behavior, I considered them normal, for Arcata. When Doobie asked me to work on his home-project, I accepted without a second thought.

I was working away and Doobie was telling stories…Doobie then launched into a story I will never forget.

I was in El Paso, that’s in Texas. Doobie explained as if I had never heard of El Paso.

Doobie continued I was at a sex show with donkeys, and…in-between acts there was a woman who could shoot ping-pong balls out of her, (you know-where) he made a gesture toward his groin as if I wouldn’t be able to decipher his meaning. Maybe he considered the word vagina vulgar.

Whichever the case, Doobie went on to describe the amazing velocity and accuracy she could achieve.

It seemed like Doobie wanted to roll in the mud. I’m not above that. So I asked Did you ask her out after the show? chucking a bit.

Doobie lit-up and exclaimed Date her? I married her!

I wasn’t expecting that at all. I said nothing.

Doobie eyed me closely. How are you at ping pong?

I used to be actually quite good at ping-pong, but I didn’t want to brag on myself, so I said I played a little bit.

Pymmy babe, load up a six-pack, we have a challenger! Doobie yelled into the next room.

I don’t think I’m a challenger, Doobie, besides I have to drive home. This won’t take long, Pymmy usually disposes of opponents in three straight serves. Rules are best 3 out of 5, but Pymmy gets a mulligan if she chooses. Doobie said this as he pulled a tarp off of a folded-up ping-pong table on the edge of the room. Doobie said nothing else as he wheeled the table into the middle of the room and un-folded it.

Uh, I’m not sure what’s going on here Doobie. I said in an inquisitive tone.

Let’s make it interesting, I owe you about $40⁰⁰. Let’s make it double or nothing.

At some point my brain seemed to fail at keeping real time. In my head I was still asking questions from what seemed like awhile ago, and in an attempt to catch-up, I blurted out: Pym doesn’t look Mexican to me.

Doobie seemed to take my question as acquiescence to the wager and he quickly launched into their history.

Pymmy is Arcata born and raised. It was purely coincidence where we met. She was pursuing her love of barnyard animals and athletics. I was looking after my dad’s investments.

I thought your dad was a physician. I said feeling my powers of inquiry were failing.

Oh yeah, he was a doctor. He ran a franchise of pot-prescription shops and he invested off-shore for the tax advantages.

Invested in sex-shows? I needed clarification on so much more, but…

Oh yeah, Doobie said emphatically, then continued, All the sex-shows in Mexico are owned and operated by white Americans for white Americans, so I was doing a secret shopper shtick, when I saw Pymmy. What can I say our connection it’s, well, basically a pathology.

Doobie disappeared into the next room momentarily then came back in pushing what looked to be an old recliner.

Look what came into the thrift-store. Doobie said

I was trying to both grasp and understand the situation I was facing, and not doing well with it. When Doobie displayed the special feature of the chair things came more into focus than I was prepared for.

Doobie popped open the top of the chairs arms and un-folded the stirrups explaining that this chair had belonged to a local Gynecologist whose wife preferred her exams at home with a warm speculum. Doobie demonstrated that the footrest would normally fold out, but instead was a drawer that was also a warmer. Then he said something about the change to plastic speculums and an almost house fire and that’s how they got it.

As Doobie set-up the chair, it should have set into my mind that this situation was real. I don’t know if it was my unwillingness to accept what was unfolding in front of me, or if it was just my natural curiosity cultivating a need to see what would happen next.

With the ping-pong table set-up and the chair ready and in position I was starting to get a little queasy.

Doobie called out Pymmey babe, we’re burning daylight, and there’s forty bucks on the line.

Pymmey appeared in the doorway wearing a tight fitting medium length dress. She made it to her chair with a big smile on her face.Apparently Doobie felt a need to explain.

Pymmey doesn’t get to show-off much anymore. Doobie came over and handed me a paddle. The handle felt a little greasy, but that concern wasn’t at the top of my list. Pym got into the chair, pulled up her dress, got her feet in the stirrups and announced gleefully.

Are you ready to go Tarry? Keep your eye on the ball!

The ball exited with a distinct popping sound. At a velocity hard to believe. The ball bounced on her side of the table leaving a small grease spot, then over the net and hitting my side of the table. Just according to Hoyle. It moved so fast I didn’t