Bum Wakes Up

By Dennis C. McCreight

Being a bum is easy. A bum can be lazy, irresponsible, and selfish. Family doesn't mean anything until one day a baseball loving teenage grandson becomes the target of a bully.

 

Being a bully is easy, especially if your teachers have held you back for two years. Bigger and stronger, classmates cow tow to him unless they have th

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amazon Publishing Agency
• Release date: Jul 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088145883

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Bum Wakes Up

By

Dennis C. McCreight

Copyright © 2023 by – Dennis C. McCreight – All Rights Reserved.

It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgement

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Dedication

Bum Wakes Up is dedicated to all of those who have found the inner strength to overcome bullying. It is also dedicated to those who had or will have, the courage to wake up to all the rewarding challenges of life.

Acknowledgement

Without the gentle prodding of my spouse, friends (especially Roger Hevland, Bob Hartwig, and Tom Warner), and fans of Ain’t No Bum (my first novel), the unfinished manuscript of Bum Wakes Up would still be in the bottom drawer of my desk waiting for me to wake up.

I would be remiss if I did not give a special thank you to my wife, Linda. Her volunteer editing and patience as I dedicated so much time to my writing made it possible for me to write Bum Wakes Up.

About the Author

Dennis McCreight was raised in the little Midwestern City that he wove into the setting of Bum Wakes Up. Although his childhood was challenging, and almost overwhelmed by family medical issues, Dennis found time to haunt the library and beg his relatives to tell him about their adventures. When it was time to start the adult phase of his life, Dennis was determined to see and absorb all the world had to offer.

Ten days after graduating from Galesburg Senior High School, Dennis agreed to join the Navy if he was allowed to volunteer for the U.S. Navy Submarine Service. Twenty-two years later, he retired from the Navy. During those years, Dennis saw a good portion of the world and learned to respect the diverse norms and practices of the many countries his submarines visited.

Seeing the world was only a portion of his twenty-two-year Navy experience. Thanks to the many solitary days at sea, Dennis got many opportunities to widen his literary horizon to the point where he not only read any book available but also began to write. During those Navy years, Dennis earned his Bachelor of Science degree and his MBA.

After retiring from the Navy, Dennis dedicated his life to the needs of his wife and family. After twenty-four years of working for various corporations as a contract manager, Dennis retired and finally woke up his writing. To date, Dennis has penned two novels (Ain’t No Bum and Bum Wakes Up) and a memoir.

Chapter 1

Sheriff Foster slammed his pencil down on the top of his U.S. Army surplus desk and asked his barren, spartan office, What is worse: these damn dog days of August or filling out these worthless State of Illinois Attorney General Criminal Activity forms? Hell, all the state needs to know is I caught the crooks and put those pain-in-the-butts away for a long time.

Silence. No answer, expected or given. After a stroke of his square lantern jaw, the Sheriff reluctantly returned the pencil to his large callused hand. In spite of its return, it remained immobile while the Sheriff mumbled, Man, I hope I get a case to work on instead of pushing this pencil around.

Three loud booming knocks on his office door interrupted the damnation of his dreaded paperwork. The Sheriff’s quick upward glance towards the loud knocks diverted his attention away from the dreaded report to one of his deputies shoving a tall, skinny, disheveled teenage boy toward the center of his office doorway. Not just any teenage boy. Instead, one he would never have imagined, standing in his doorway wearing bloody clothes and looking as startled as a deer-in-the-headlights. After taking in all he was suddenly confronted with, the Sheriff took a few moments and then thought, Oh crap, I guess I should be careful what I wish for.

Sheriff, I think you know this here, Butch McCoy, so I figured you might want to handle this one, the Deputy said.

Still stunned by the out-of-character appearance of Butch, the Sheriff simply nodded his concurrence. The Deputy didn’t hide his relief as he nodded back and shoved Butch toward the Sheriff.

Sherriff Foster motioned for Butch to sit in one of the folding metal chairs that lined the east wall of his office, but Butch didn’t sit down. Instead, he limped over to the chair facing the Sheriff’s desk and collapsed into it. Within moments of landing in the chair, Butch drew his knees to his chin.

OK, Butch, what the heck happened to you? the Sheriff asked in a calm, soothing voice.

I… I… don’t know … bum hand, Butch mumbled.

Crouching down in front of Butch, the Sheriff asked in a blunt tone, softened by a slight smile. Butch, I know you’ve been dealt a bum hand in life, but that don’t exactly tell me much about why you’re here.

Finally breaking the silence, Butch quit chewing his lower lip and mumbled a few, not quite audible words.

Leaning in closer to Butch, the Sheriff said, Well, that’s a start, Butch, but you gotta speak up.

Despite the Sheriff’s patient repeated requests, his office continued to be silent except for the drumming of his fingers on his desk and Butch’s sniffling.

Ok, Butch, here’s the deal. If I didn’t know you and your family so well, I wouldn’t be so patient. Instead, your butt right now would be in a jail cell. Now dammit, tell me what happened! Sheriff Foster said as he slammed his hand down on his desk top.

I … I did what Dad told me to do. I stood up to Carl. Butch softly replied.

Before the Sheriff could ask Butch to elaborate, the Deputy interceded, Don’t know what they were fighting about, but when I got there, I found Butch with his hand gripping a knife sticking out of the Caldwell kid’s chest.

Stunned by what the Deputy told him, the Sheriff blurted out, Whoa, I don’t think that is what your dad meant when he told you to stand up for yourself.

Even though the Sheriff had not mentioned it, Butch yelled, NO, NO, NO … please don’t tell Dad!

Once again, the Deputy interjected. Sheriff, we already tried to call his parents, but there was no answer. Butch said they were in Peoria for another of his dad’s checkups at the Methodist Hospital.

Butch, I didn’t say I’d call your dad, but I might have to when they get home. Depends on what you tell me and if we can make sure it is the truth. Now, tell me how that knife with your hand on it got in Carl Caldwell’s chest!

Tears began a slow journey down Butch’s cheek. In an almost unintelligible murmur, Butch replied, I … I don’t know.

With a heavy sigh that filled the silent office, the Sheriff suddenly raised out of his crouch, and said, Deputy, call his dad, Milt McCoy, again later today and ask him and his wife, Vi, to join us.

NO, NO, please don’t, Butch screamed.

Exasperated at the lack of Butch’s forthcoming, the Sheriff took a few moments to calm himself before he said, Butch, I don’t have any choice. State law says I must make all possible attempts to involve the parents when interviewing a minor. I should have got your parents here before I ever chatted with you. I’ve known you for most of your life, so I made an exception. While we are waiting for your parents, tell me why I should be convinced that you didn’t plant that knife in the Caldwell kid’s chest.

I didn’t plant it, Sheriff!

Frustrated, the Sheriff shouted, Then who did?

I don’t know. We were fighting, and then he all of a sudden pulled out a knife.

Then what?

I don’t know. I, I … bum hand.

Frustrated, the Sheriff turned to the Deputy and said, Can you help us out here? I need more information besides what Butch keeps mumbling. Did you talk to any witnesses?

No sir, the only two folks I found at the park were that Caldwell kid and Butch.

Well, I’ll bet there were some, but they probably all scattered after the fight got ugly. See if you can find some witnesses. Also, get hold of Butch’s Babe Ruth League coach, Coach Bill Owens, and any of Butch’s White Sox teammates. I got a hunch some of those kids were at the scene of this here falderol. Get going and get me those witnesses ASAP!

Yes, sir, the Deputy said as he quickly left the Sheriff’s office.

The Sheriff then turned his frustration to Butch. Dammit, Butch, I don’t want to hear about your bum hand. It ain’t helping you. Now, first off, tell me what the hell you young pups were fighting about.

It’s, it’s a long story, Sheriff.

After letting out a heavy sigh, the Sheriff said, I got all day, so spit it out.

Chapter 2

Walking toward the last standing derelict Lombard College building, Butch heard a jubilant classmate shout, Thank God, this year is over. Just one more day left. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of learning all this useless stuff those teachers kept trying to pound into us.

Butch smiled and replied, Yeah, but after the summer, we will be in High School, and I’ve heard it’s a lot harder. I guess we’ll see come September, but meanwhile, I am glad summer is finally here.

Yeah, me too. Are you gonna play baseball this summer, Butch?

Hope to play if I can make a team. How about you? Are you gonna try out?

Nah, I’ve got a job detasseling corn. Anyway, good luck, and have a good summer.

You too, Butch said as he turned toward the only still-standing Lombard College classroom building.

I know we’ve been told this old stone building is unsafe, but I think they just told us that to keep us from hiding out in it. It hasn’t been used since they closed down the college down in the early 1930s, but I love it. There are lots of places us kids can hide out in and get away from the world. This rickety, sole survivor of Lombard College is the best place for me to hide and do some thinking. It’s so quiet. Sure is a great place to read a good book written by Mark Twain. Right now, though, I’ve got so much on my mind I just need some quiet time to think.

Butch’s much-needed silence was broken when someone yelled, Hey, you goody-goody little shit, are you hiding out in there?!

Butch peered thru one of the few unbroken windows of the old derelict building and saw who he suspected had shattered the silence with a profane slur, Carl Caldwell. Darn, that’s who I was trying to get away from. I thought he’d probably lit out from school like a scalded cat. I know he’s ticked that I didn’t help him today on the English test, but he hates school so much I’m surprised he hung around looking for me.

No answer from Butch prompted Carl to yell, You can’t hide from me forever. I might not get you today, but I will get you for sure.

Butch watched Carl walk away from the old building. Looks like he is finally heading towards home. I’ll wait a while before I get my bike.

***

As Butch removed his bicycle from the stand, he heard someone yell, Get your skinny little ass over here now!

Butch turned towards the yell. One look at who yelled, he immediately thought, Oh no, it’s Carl Caldwell, the meanest and oldest bully in school who didn’t go home after all. Wish he wouldn’t be held back a couple of grades. If the teachers would have passed him a couple years, me and my whole class wouldn’t have had to put up with him and his bullying.

Not waiting for the frozen-in-place Butch to come over, Carl closed the distance between them as quickly as his long-legged-six-foot frame let him. Are you deaf or stupid? I told you to get over here?!

I … heard you yelling, but I … didn’t know you were yelling at me, Butch mumbled.

Carl sneered and said, Yeah, I was yelling at you, ‘cause I have a question for you, dumb ass!

What’s your question? Butch whimpered.

How come you didn’t help me with our English test? If I didn’t pass that test ‘cause of you, I’m gonna get held back again. I’ll be the only 16-year-old in this crappy Junior High School. My Pap will be pissed if I’m held back again, and then I’ll get you.

If I’d helped you and got caught, we both would have flunked English, and my Dad would get me before you do, Butch replied.

Carl clinched his fists and leaned in closer to Butch. Close enough, he could smell Carl’s bad breath. We weren’t gonna get caught! The teacher left for the bathroom again, and he was still in the john. You just didn’t want to help me!

That’s not true. I’ve helped you a lot of times with homework. But helping on a test is cheating, and I don’t cheat. You knew Mr. Patterman could have been back at any time.

While Carl was venting his anger, Butch hoped Carl wasn’t paying attention as he slowly continued to free his bike from the bike stand.

Cursing Butch’s explanation, Carl started stomping around the bike rack. The more Carl stomped, the more his attention was momentarily diverted. Taking advantage of Carl’s momentary lapses in attention, Butch quickly finished freeing his bike and jumped on his bike.

Before Butch could pedal away, Carl grabbed the back of the bike seat and brought the bike to a halt. Where the hell do you think you’re going?!

Home, Butch tried to yell, but his strained voice only came across as pathetic whimpering.

Not until I’m thru with you, you ain’t! Now get off that bike, you little goody-goody coward, and let’s settle it right now! Carl yelled and grabbed Butch.

As Carl dragged Butch off the bike, the junior high school principal yelled as he came out of the nearby school door, What’s going on here? You boys need to settle down and get on home before I call your parents!

Startled by the principal’s interruption, Carl let go of Butch’s arm and turned towards the principal. We were just messing around, sir.

Not waiting for Carl’s attention to swing back to him, Butch started running away from Carl as fast as he could.

Principal Warren paused to think about Carl’s answer; he told Carl, I’m not certain you are telling me the truth, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I suggest you head on home, like your little friend has already started to do.

Carl wasn’t certain about what the principal meant about his ‘little friend’. After the principal turned his back to leave for the day, Carl turned around and quickly understood what the principal had said. Butch was running away as fast as he could.

Crap, now I gotta catch that little s.o.b. before he gets home.

Carl started running after Butch and yelled, Get your ass back here, you little goody-goody shit.

Attempting to get out of sight, Butch ran towards the backyards of the homes near the school. Butch wasn’t far from his neighborhood, so he kind of knew this area, and he hoped Carl didn’t.

Where the hell did that little goody-goody go? I’ll bet he is running thru the backyards looking for a hiding place. I don’t know this neighborhood, but I’ll get him.

Butch had no idea what to do, but he knew he was far enough away from Carl that he could slow down and take a breath and do some thinking.

There you are. You can’t run as fast as me, so give it up. Carl yelled

Frantically looking around for any hiding place, Butch was getting desperate until he saw Mrs. Schwartz’s backyard.

Butch waited a few moments to let Carl get closer. Hoping Carl didn’t see what he saw, Butch suddenly dashed towards Mrs. Schwartz’s backyard.

Soon after reaching the back of her backyard, he heard Carl’s suddenly abbreviated scream. I’m gonna get y … argh.

The next sound Butch heard was the thud of Carl’s six-foot, one-hundred-sixty-pound body suddenly falling to earth. Soon after, Carl’s abrupt meeting with the ground was followed by his loud, strangled, painful moaning and groaning.

Wow, it worked. Getting him to run after me without noticing Mrs. Schwartz’s low clothesline worked better than I thought it would. Reminds me of how I was clotheslined when Roger was chasing me through his backyard last summer.

***

"Young man, are you all right?’ Mrs. Schwartz asked Carl.

Hiding in the bushes at the back of Mrs. Schwartz’s yard, Butch suppressed his urge to chuckle. No, he ain’t all right. He’s probably wanting to kill me about now after I suckered him into that clothesline.

​Carl glared at Mrs. Schwartz and started to cuss her out for keeping her clothesline so low, but instead, he remembered the few manners his mom had taught him as he tried to figure out a way to catch Butch. I’m fine, mam. I was playing a game of chase with my friend who is shorter than me. I got so excited to finally tag him, I didn’t see him run under your clothesline. Did you happen to see where my friend ran off to?

Well, I’m glad you are all right. I wish I could tell you where your friend went, but I didn’t see the young man you were chasing. Could I get you something to drink?

No thank you, mam. I know where he lives, so I’ll just meet him there.

Butch watched Carl to see if he was actually going to his home. Carl’s gait at first was a bit wobbly, but it looked like he was beating a path to Butch’s home.

What do I do now? Even though he ain’t walking the best, with his head start, I doubt if I could beat him to my house. Carl is out of sight now. I’m not certain if he isheading to my place or if he is going back to