Texas Funeral

Published by Jack Batcher
Great River, New York
©2016 – Jack Batcher
www.JackBatcher.com

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, recording, print, or otherwise, without prior written
permission by the author.

This book is a work of fiction, Names, Characters, Places, and
incidents either are the product of the authors imagination, or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, who are
either living or dead, and events, or locals is entirely
coincidental.

Julia Smithers heard her five-year-old son Gary’s
urgent call. She left her sewing behind, as she jumped out
of her seat at the kitchen table, to see what all the
commotion was about. Julia swung open the screen door
leading to the back yard and saw their dog, Trigger, acting
peculiar. Trigger’s steps were awkward like he was a
marionette in the wind. He dragged his right hind leg, while
slobbering uncontrollably. Julia feared that Trigger was
suffering a heat stroke. The temperature was already over
one hundred degrees, and it wasn’t even after noon.

“Gary, you come up here in the house,” Julia called
out, “and leave Ol’ Trigger alone, the po’ dog is sick.”
“Yes Mama,” Gary said, running up to the house.
“We’ll let your Daddy take a look at Trigger,” Julia
said, closing the screen door behind them.

Trigger let out a high pitched howl that stopped Julia
and Gary in their tracks. They quickly turned around to
look at their dog. Trigger’s body trembled as he walked
like a zombie toward the house. He howled again, only this
time the sound was cut short like someone had grabbed
Trigger by the throat. Blood burst out of Trigger’s mouth
and eyes like a broken dam. His head rolled off his body
and with a sickening thump he collapsed down on the
grass. A swarm of flies erupted out of Trigger’s decapitated
head.
“Trigger!” Gary attempted to run to the aide of his

There was a loud crash. Bill staggered into the
kitchen in a daze. He stumbled like a zombie into the wall.
Bill turned to look at his wife and son. He let out a high
pitched howl. Blood spurt out of his mouth and eyes. His
head fell to the floor as if it were chopped off by an
invisible guillotine. Bill collapsed to the kitchen floor
knocking over the table. Gary and Julia screamed in horror,
as Bill’s head rolled across the yellow and white tiled floor,
and stopped by the cabinet under the sink. A swarm of flies
came out of his head.

Julia flung open
the back screen door. She ran out of the
house with her son Gary under her left arm, while dialing
9-1-1 on her cell phone with her other hand. The swarm of
flies pursued her as she ran to the front of the house. Gary
was crying and Julia barley heard the Police dispatcher
answer her call…

“9-1-1 Emergency, this is Tanya speaking. How can I
help you?”
“My Husband! The dog! Dead! The flies!” Julia,
blurted out through her tears.
“Ma’am please try and calm down,” Tanya said,
“Please give me your location.”
“222 Lexington Drive, in Kilgore,” Julia said, “Help
us please… The flies are biting me and my son.”

Then Julia lost her cell phone connection. She ran
down the road with the flies still biting at her, to her friend
Elsie’s house. Elsie lived three houses away and Julia
thought she would be safe there until the police arrived.
Julia pounded on Elsie’s front door.

“Elsie, it’s me Julia. Let me in!”
“My word Julia, what all is the matter,” Elsie said, as
the elderly woman opened the door, “What are all these
flies?”
“Bill is dead,” Julia said, carrying Gary into the
house, “The dog too. All these flies”
“Mama,” Gary said, “I don’t feel so good.”
Gary began to tremble violently in Elsie’s kitchen.
Then he began to stumble awkwardly around the room.

“Oh dear God no!” Julia cried, “Elsie this is what
happened to Bill and the dog. Quick let’s get him to the
hospital!”

Julia grabbed Gary and carried him into the garage.
Elsie had opened the back door of her SUV and helped
Julia into the truck. Elsie scurried around to the driver’s
side, hopped in, and started up the engine. She pushed the
button to open the garage door. Blood began to trickle out
of Gary ’s mouth.

Elsie floored the gas pedal out of the garage and
launched the car onto Lexington Drive, attempting to get
Gary to Kilgore Memorial hospital as fast as she could.

“Oh dear Elsie,” Julia said, “I am not feeling to good
either. I was bitten by the same flies Gary has been bitten
by too.”

It was just after midnight
as I rolled my rusted out
El Camino
passed the welcome sign for Kilgore, The City
of Stars.
End of the Night
, by
The Doors
, crackled out of
the cars old speakers, bringing an apocalyptical eeriness to
the hot June night. I was returning from my laboratory at
the University of Texas in Austin, where I worked on
The
Red Fire Ant Project
. The projects main focus was to find a
way of controlling the Red Fire Ant epidemic that had been
plaguing all of Texas, and eventually eradicating the
problem all together. The Red Fire Ants were imported
here to the United States accidentally in dirt that had come
from South America. After studying the Red Fire Ants for
some time, I had come to realize that they had no natural
enemies here in the United States. With the lack of a
natural predator the ants were able to flourish
exponentially.

The last time I was in Kilgore was in the beginning
of May. I was here with the permission of the Mayor of
Kilgore. The Mayor, Mr. Ricardo Valdez, who used to be
the singer and lead guitarist to the Tex-Mex Rock group
Lil’ Dickey Valdez and The Fireballs
. Mayor Valdez was
excited that Kilgore would be instrumental in finding a
solution to the Red Fire Ant problem. He did not foresee
any harm that my experiment would bring to the people.
My experiment was to release Genetically Modified South
American Phorid flies, which are known predators of the
Red Fire Ants in their native land.

What happens when the South American Phorid Fly
attacks the Red Fire Ant? That’s a good question, and I’m
glad that you asked. When this particular Phorid Fly attacks
the Red Fire Ant, it lands on the Ants back and injects it
with larva. The larvae then attack the Fire Ants central
nervous system. As the larvae metamorphosis into the
Phorid Fly, it uses its influence on the Ants central nervous
system to lead it away from the Colony. The Ants
movements are awkward and jarring, like a Zombie.

Now that the fly is safely away from the Colony, it
now kills the Ant by eating its brain, then chewing through
the neck until the Ants head falls off. The fully
metamorphosed Phorid Fly then takes off to reproduce
more flies by repeating this same act. This will not
eradicate the Red Fire Ant problem immediately. The
natural metamorphosis is a slow process, but with my DNA
modifications, I was able to speed up the process, while
making the flies more aggressive in their attack on the Ant
Colonies. It is an environmentally safer solution to poisons,
which is good for people, pets, and other livestock.

Mayor Valdez had this to say to me about the
experiment. He said, “Mr. Harris, you may conduct your
experiment here in the City of Kilgore, but you can bet the
devil your head, that if anything goes wrong, you’ll get the
full wrath of Mayor Ricardo Valdez. Do you understand
me?” Of course I understood, and with a more then
generous donation to Mayor Valdez’s private campaign
fund, I was able to conduct my experiment.

This seems like a good place for my introduction. I
am Raymond Harris, Professor of Entomology at The
University of Texas, in Austin. My friends call me Ray. So,
on May 3
^rd
I released a swarm of my Genetically Modified
South American Phorid flies in an open field at Kilgore
Park. Now exactly a month later, I am here to see how my
experiment is progressing. I am also hungry, so I pull into
the parking lot of an all night restaurant,
The Road-Kill
Café.

I entered
The Road Kill Café
,
by passing under
the red and yellow flashing neon sign, of the front end of a
car knocking over a deer. Above the carnage are the words
Road Kill, and underneath the front tire is the word Café.
Before the car hits the deer, the sign is yellow. After the car
hits the deer, the sign turns red. I’m hesitant on going in,
but there is no place else that will be open at this time of
night. I’ll just get a burger. How bad could that be? I open
the door; the Café is empty, and its hella- hot inside. I see a
sign on the wall with a car running over a squirrel, and a
caption which read, “Be decisive. Right or wrong make a
decision. The road of life is paved with flat squirrels who
couldn’t make a decision.”

“Hola,” Said the waitress, with a sweet Spanish
accent, and taking my attention away from the sign,
“Welcome to
The Road Kill Café
. Mi llamo es Carmela,
and I will be your waitress,” She said, looking up at me
with the biggest most beautiful smile, which was
accentuated with bright red lip-stick.

Carmela, I guessed was Mexican, and in her midtwenties.
The Road Kill Café’s
signature red and yellow
striped uniform clung to her every curve, and showed off
her beautiful legs. She had a charm that was immediately
inviting, and moved gracefully as she removed a menu
from the stack of menus. She motioned with her hand to
follow her. So, I followed her to a booth, that faced a flat
screen television, that hung on the wall. The local Kilgore
News was on. I sat down; Carmela placed the menu in front
of me, and leaned down giving me a direct view of her
cleavage.
“I apologize for how hot it is in here, but our Air

Conditioner broke down this afternoon,” Carmela said,
“You look over the menu, and I will be right back with
some ice water.” I watched as Carmela sauntered towards
the back of the cafe. She definitely had a great shake. Then
suddenly, she stopped, looked back over her right shoulder,
and caught me watching her. She smiled, and then went
through the silver swinging doors into the kitchen.

The newscaster mimed the news, because the sound
was off. I read what he was saying underneath with
growing concern, because of what the story was about.
Headless Rats were found out in the old oil fields. The
newscaster continued that the heads did not seem to be
severed, but chewed off the body. I then read as the
newscaster reported on how an infestation of flies had
brought an abrupt end to
The Rangerettes Revel
at Kilgore
College, and how several of the attendee’s had been
brought to Kilgore Memorial Hospital to be treated for
insect bites.

As the newscast went to commercial, I gazed out
the café window, contemplating the news I had just
received. I was scared to even give the idea any life by
beginning to give it a thought, but a part of me could not
stop thinking… what if my experiment had gotten out of
control?

I was snapped out of my
fear based news hypnosis
when Carmela returned with my ice water, placed it on the
table, and then took a seat across from me.

“Do you know what you want?” Carmela asked,
putting her pad on the table.
“Yes,” I said, “I’ll have the Road Kill Bacon
Cheeseburger.”
“How would you like that cooked, Fresh Kill or
Day Old?”
“Fresh Kill. Please,” Then I drifted off to look out
the window.
“Are you ok,” Carmela asked, placing her hand on
mine, “You look troubled.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry,” I said, “I think it’s just been a
long drive from Austin, and now my imagination is getting
the best of me.”
“Oh ok,” Carmela said, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t get
your name.”
“It’s Ray,” I said, “Ray Harris.”
“So, how is your imagination getting the best of you
Ray?”
“Its going to sound crazy, but it was the news story
I just saw about these rats.”
“The headless rats?” Carmela said, “Dios mio, I saw
that story, they have been talking about it all day. That and
how this afternoon, a family got attacked by a swarm of
flies. The story on the news was so creepy, and it happened
only a few blocks from here on Lexington Drive.”
“Flies?” I said.
“Yes,” Carmela said, “Flies. Are you sure you’re ok
Ray? You look very pale. Maybe you’re hungry. I’ll go get
your burger.”
“Thank you Carmela.”

First there is the news reports about headless rats
and the swarm of flies at
The Rangerettes Ravel.
Now I’m
hearing how flies have attacked a family. I’ll have to check
the news and find out more about that story after I eat.
Time seemed to be suspended in the eerie silence of the
empty café. My thoughts began to swarm about the
possibility that maybe, I had made a mistake. The silver
doors from the kitchen banged open. Carmela appeared,
smiling like a game show model, as she brought over my
food.

“Here you are Ray,” Carmela said, “Is there
anything else I can get you?”
“Thank you Carmela,” I said, “I think this will be
good.”

I pick up the burger and take a huge bite. Carmela
sits across from me again. I think she likes me, and who
could blame her for being attracted to a geeky bug guy,
who looks like a sickly Daniel Tosh, in horned-rimmed
glasses, and could pass as an extra on
The Big Bang
Theory
. Or maybe, she is just bored, because I’m the only
customer. I really want to go with she likes me.