Jimbo put away the bottle of store bought whiskey back into its resting place underneath his bed away from Three's greedy gaze. Jimbo thought ruefully and shook his head with shame 'I remember the good times riding with Redbeard we would have drank ourselves stupid on Cocatrice and feasted on the flesh of plains bison until dawn at any wedding. Grubworm I wish I could have given you a proper wedding amongst the Kinfolk.At least you have a decent wife.'
Young Three was raiding his distillery as he was thinking this. Jars were being filled from the oil drums that served as the collection tanks for torpedo juice. 'I need to take advantage of this night. Gramps hates it when I get drunk... I'll show him that a drunkard can land a decent husband.'
"Grubworm get yourself fortified for long night partying. Jimbo cut on that Zydeco music. I want to dance then have the horizontal zumba with my new husband." The accordians were wailing hard from the old battered Victoria that Jimbo had to crank by hand. The old Cajun sang in French the dead language of the Kinfolk.
"Shouldn't we invite Elder Bi and the Scholar this is a party isn't it?" Joe asked before they could get roaring in full swing.
"No Grubworm it might be best if the Elder found out after the fact so to speak. I might have to stop him from killing you on your wedding night." Jimbo answered back before Three had time to think over inviting anyone else to this impromptu ceremony.
"You said it yourself according to Gypsie law Grubworm is my bitch now." Three replied with a smirk."Nothing grandpa can do about it we are man and wife."
"I'll get my killing shirt on just in case... I'll go get the others with Grubworm. Stay here Three hold down the fort." Jimbo was busily tossing aside dirty clothes as he finally reached the bottom of the pile he pulled on a tuxedo t shirt and an old pair of blue jeans and his shit kicker boots. He donned a scuffed leather cowboy hat from a peg on the wall.He reached into his jobox on the back of his bike then pulled out his falchion strapping it to his waist. "Grubworm get on we need to ride."
They started out on the Red Dirt Road at a sedate pace then stopped a short distance from The Junk Hall, Jimbo killed the engine.
"Alright now that it's just us men folk I need to ask you a question. Are you sure you even want to be married to Three?"Jimbo asked Joe seriously.
"Not like I have much choice,she already tattooed me right?" Joe said wryly."Besides she would beat me forever if I said no."
"Ok glad you understand reality Grubworm. I'll now show you a secret of Junk Gypsy magic. Repeat after me while focusing on your left wrist. I Grubworm son of Jimbo son of Claude
son of Rayford son of Clovis son of Billy Ray son of Vernon Earl son of Buford son of Big Tim invoke the blessing of The King."
Joe repeated the words exactly and felt a cold chill run through his whole body he shivered as the coldness reached his heart. The voice sounded out from the clouds above their heads replaying the automated message. The appropriate number was selected and soon they were connected with the department of marriage. The lines were carved into the Family Tree and Agnes Bi III was officially added into the branch belonging to the line of Big Tim.
"Now Grubworm we just have to keep Bi from killing you... I wonder if we told him that you already have her knocked up if that would make his blood boil more or less. Just food for thought as we make our way to the Elder's shack." Jimbo cranked the bike back up and away they rode.
The Elder had just set his soup pot on to boil and the Scholar was intent on joining him for dinner. When they heard the roar of Jimbo's bike outside. ' That junk skunk must be here to score a free meal. May as well go outside to see what he's going to lay on me as an excuse for freeloading.' Elder Bi and The Scholar both exited the shack to greet the Tinker. The first thing they noticed was his outrageous T shirt in the setting sun. He also had on his blade and had Grubworm in the bed of the trike.
"What are you wearing that ridiculous T shirt for Jimbo?" The Elder asked in his elegant polka dotted bathrobe.
"It's my wedding shirt, also my funeral and birthday shirt. Anyways we have a formal ocassion that needs to be addressed my "son" done got hitched to your grandaughter. Whether we are drinking to a happy union or burying some dead today depends on you. I feel obligated to tell you that they are soon to have a son. Don't make an orphan today." Jimbo was extremely tense as he relayed this information with his hand on his blade.
"Relax Jimbo I am actually elated. Agnes is an honest woman... er... a wedded young lady. Im going to be a great grandfather now!" Elder Bi was practically jumping with jubilation. 'One less problem to deal with Three is married.'
"So what are we doing about the reception?" The Scholar asked. ' Something more filling than that watery soup I hope.'
"I suppose we could dig us a pit bait up some hogs. Grubworm how you feel like being bait?"
"Well I'm a subject matter expert a master baiter of sorts one could say..." Joe was not looking forward to being pig food. Seeing the look on his face Jimbo tried to offer some reassurance "Don't worry Grubworm you are looking at the best that the sect has to offer you will be safe." The men all got on the bike and headed deep into the distant forest.
"Crane so that little trick you do with the wind see if we can smell a pig." The Elder spoke into the Scholar's ear through cupped hands on the back of the thunderous bike. The Scholar nodded and reached into his shirt pocket removing a pen from his pocket protector. He clicked the retractable ballpoint twice then made a flurry of quick scribbles leaving a red sparkling pattern in the air. The pattern crumbled and flew up the Scholar's nostrils. He moved his head in a sweeping pattern until he finally stopped. " About four miles that direction. It's a good thing that pigs smell so foul. Hunting men is so much harder. They bathe, change clothes,sometimes wear perfume or are in a city too many people grouped up is never easy. Smelly pigs that's child's play."
"Ok then here's the plan we dig the pit when I get Jimbo to stop. We all get off and try to chase the pigs into the hole while Grubworm lies in wait at the bottom of the pit." The Elder set about trying to strategize the hog hunt.
"Excuse me but why do I have to be at the bottom of a pit with horse sized hungry pigs?" Joe yelled to the Elder as they were still speeding along on the back of the trike.
"Well boy I don't need an in law that can't bring home the bacon to my grandadaughter. How about you keep chanting the sutra until you grow a set of balls." The Elder was secretly hoping that the pigs would settle his problem for him. He had given up on ever seeing Thomlin come back for his son.
The Elder smacked Jimbo on his shoulder the bike stopped. Everyone got off the bike. Jimbo removed a spade from his jobox and a marlin spike. The Elder took the spade from Jimbo's outstretched hands and started digging. Soon there was a square pit around 10 ft deep and 20ft × 20ft. Joe was lowered in by rope to the bottom of the pit. Before the others left an iron spike the size of Joe's forearm was tossed into the pit.
"That's a marlin spike Grubworm used for splicing cables together. Stab the pointy end into a pig's eyes or ear holes then scramble it around to finish it off. Be ready to die tonight it's kill or be killed." Jimbo's expression was grim.
The three older men set off farther into the direction of the pigs at a quick run.
"You think we scared him enough yet Bi?" Jimbo asked with a grin.
"He needs to be serious I can't have him be a layabout. He needs to learn something or else our reputations are ruined." The Elder was frowning.
"He has expressed a small interest in incribing. I had thought to ask The Scholar to teach him. I know that White Tides has some skill in a sound amplification rune." Jimbo looked over at White Tides as he ran and spoke.
"I'd be honored to teach him anything he wants to learn. His father was a dear friend of mine I know that there is no love lost between Thomlin and the Elder at all, but I still have the greatest respect for the man I could never track." The Scholar smiled as he remembered the great chases that Thomlin had lead him on. 'Never stayed one place long enough to trap. That Peterford of his always seemed to fly out of town the night before I made it there, any plans I made to have it sabotaged fell flat.
Thomlin left any thugs I hired naked in the street.'
"Thomlin has to be part Gypsy. Nobody can stay hid like the Kinfolk." Jimbo nodded.
They heard the grunts of hogs. They started walking heel to toe in order to get closer undetected.
Meanwhile in the hole Joe was quite frankly bored out of his mind. He felt some dirt shift up above him and a clod fell down on his head. A big dark shadow covered the edge of the crevasse
'Sup swine bro.' Jeffy sent him a thought.
"Jeffy what happened the other night bro. I blacked out can't remember a damn thing."
'You had too much brain in your gut doing your thinking bro. It's ok I kept you from making a fool of yourself... I even got you back for medical attention.'
"It's great to have friends listen you need to get out of here. I'm with some people that are expecting me to kill a pig tonight.They might stab you."
'I'm the second most badass thing on this mountain. If you need a dead pig to get them off your back swine bro I got you. I'll kill one of these mouthy young boars he talks so much shit about me... kid thinks I am all squeal no tusk. Problem is he hangs out with two more grunting pieces of trash.'
"So I am still bait is that it?" Joe didn't like this plan any better than the other that was proposed.
'No choice really swine bro. Unless you got brain balls in your gut you are pretty much a pussy.'
"Anyway I can eat some brain balls without blacking out?"
' You might have some tolerance for it now but I'd rather not risk it.'
Jeffy stamped his feet and let loose a tremendous squeal it was like a banshee wail a piggy siren song that was answered in the distance by another squeal. A moment passed and two more short squeals followed.