Date: Sat, 16 Feb 2013 20:43:06 -0800 (PST)
From: R Ranger <bn2rumpranger (at) yahoo (dot) com>
Subject: Midwestern Tale, Chapter 9 (Revised)

Warning! The following story is a pure work of erotic fiction. All names,
dates and places depicted herein are fictional. The story contains some
chapters with descriptive scenes of sexual encounters between consenting
individuals. If you are not of legal age to read stories of this nature or
you are offended by the subject matter contained herein do not read any
further.

Midwestern Tale
By The Rump Ranger

Revised Chapter 9: Death in the Family

After Danny and I finished eating two big bowls of beans and ham along with
cornbread and buttermilk we headed back to the cabin to check on my
cousin. Bruce had decided to forgo dinner because he wasn't felling
well. When we arrived Danny asked, "Hey lover boy you feelin better? You
wanna to go to the movie in town with us?"

"Nah, you two go ahead. I got the fuckin headache from hell and still
feelin kind of poorly," Bruce replied.

"Maybe it was the heat today. It was damn hot out there this afternoon," I
said. "Can I get you an aspirin or some water?"

"Nah. I think you maybe right. I'm just need to lay here in the dark and
sleep it off."

"Should we sleep in the house tonight so as not to bother you?" Danny
asked.

"When you all get back from the movie check in to see how I feel," Bruce
said. "I'm sure I'll be okay in a couple hours."

"Okay." Danny walked over and bent down kissing Bruce gently on the
forehead, remarking, "You do feel a tad warm baby. We'll leave you
alone. See you when we get back."

I switched off the light as we exited the cabin and then walked towards the
house. Danny asked Aunt Flo and Uncle James to look in on Bruce later as he
was not feeling well. After the brief conversation with my aunt and uncle,
Uncle James said, "You boys don't stay out late there's heap a work to get
done around here tomorrow – got the big fish fry on Saturday evening."

We walked towards Danny's car. Inside the car we put the top down and were
off to town. The drive-in theater was the place to go to socialize in the
area. We could watch the flick and have some privacy to talk. That night we
didn't talk about anything real deep; however, we farted a lot and laughed
at our farts. Belching and farting for boys back in the day was a game to
see who could out do the others. Apparently, Aunt Flo hadn't soaked the
beans long enough to get the farts out of the beans, so we had a sufficient
amount of gas in our system. While we watched the movie we'd devoured a
container of popcorn and a soda apiece before the siren at the fire
department went off.

The fire department as in many Midwestern towns was composed of
volunteers. The siren was a call to let them know to assemble at the fire
house, call in or turn on their radios for further instructions.

About thirty seconds after the siren went off a couple of vehicles started
up, put the speakers back on the posts, driving out with their lights
turned off. Immediately after that the ambulance that was sitting next to
the concession stand drove away. Once the ambulance cleared the gate on
went the lights and siren. The emergency vehicle turned onto the highway
heading towards the farm. Our conversation concluded that there must have
been an auto accident on the highway.

A couple minutes later more emergency vehicles began going down the highway
towards the farm. Danny and I looked at each other with questioning
looks. Without a word Danny started the car. He'd decided to leave and head
home before the movie ended, but I think we were both curious about what
had happened and where. For some reason we had queasy feelings about what
we would find. As we approached the farm we could see the top of the fire
truck with lights going down in the draw where the cabin was
located. Numerous civilian vehicles with emergency lights operating lined
the side of the highway and driveway.

An ambulance pulled out of the driveway at a high rate of speed passing us
with lights and siren going full tilt. We pulled over to the side of the
road allowing it passed and then pulled into the driveway driving up to the
house.

The volunteers were all returning to their vehicles shaking their heads
while the fire truck remained. We were wondering if there had been a fire
or what had happened. Then we saw the two firemen and Uncle James standing
in front of the cabin. The door was open. We both exited the car and began
running towards the little cottage. Once we reached the area where the men
were standing we both shouted in unison, "What's going on?"

Uncle James and the Fire Chief grabbed us with that look of
disbelief. Uncle James said, "It's Bruce. Boys, we think he might have
suffered a stroke."

"A stroke! What the Hell! Strokes are for old people," Danny screamed. "Is
he okay?" Danny was asking questions and making statements in rapid fire
succession before he burst into tears.

Uncle James pulled him close and hugged him. That was the first time I'd
seen my uncle show any emotions towards Danny or anyone for that
matter. Uncle James was not a demonstrative person nor were most of the men
in the family. Back in the day sensitivity and touchy feely was not common
among men. I walked over and put my arms around Danny too. The fire Chief
said that it was time for him to go getting the fire truck back to the
barn. He and the driver climbed into the truck, made a big U turn and
headed back up the driveway towards town.

Apparently, sometime between the first bowel of beans and cornbread and
when Danny and I departed to go see movie in town Bruce blew a blood vessel
in his head. We'd been told he was alive when he left the farm in the
ambulance. We both wanted to go to the hospital immediately; however, Uncle
James said, "Your aunt is with him. We have to wait to see what hospital
they're taking him to."

We all went inside where we began consuming coffee while waiting. Uncle
James called the local operator and told her he would be on the phone
notifying family and for her to break in anytime a call came in from the
hospital. Uncle James began calling relatives and the pastor explaining
what had happened and Bruce's condition.

Finally, the awaited call came. After Uncle James hung up he was
ashen-faced. Stoically, he took the car keys off the hook in the kitchen
and then asked Danny and me to get the big car out of the garage. The car
was the Sunday go to meeting car: a Lincoln Continental. The black behemoth
beast with suicide doors was not driven by anyone except for Uncle James or
Aunt Flo's driver. Danny opened the door to the garage and I flipped on the
light switch.

The large garage instantly illuminated showing off the beautiful black
beast sitting there in hibernation awaiting its beckon call to duty. Danny
slid behind the wheel of the mammoth machine and brought it to life. After
letting it warm up Danny pulled the car outside while I turned off the
lights in the garage and closed the big sliding door.

A much detached Uncle James stepped out onto the porch and began walking
towards us. Danny opened the driver door preparing to exit the
vehicle. "You drive Danny, if you don't mind," Uncle James said.

I opened the driver side rear door for my uncle to slide in. Once inside I
closed the door and walked around to the passenger side where I took my
seat next to Danny. After Uncle James explained where the hospital was
located. The drive to the hospital miles away in another town was a somber
one. Once we arrived at the ER entrance Uncle James told me to park the big
car while he and Danny went inside. After parking the beast in a far area
where it wouldn't get a scratch on it I then made my way inside the
community hospital's ER waiting room.

My uncle was holding a crying Aunt Flo. Danny just sat there in a state of
total disbelief. I didn't know what to do or who to console first. As I
began walking towards my aunt and uncle and when I got to them I asked,
"How's Bruce?"

"They're still working on him," Aunt Flo said between crying gasps.

Suddenly, a stony face doctor emerged from behind the swinging doors,
calling the two adults in for a consult. After a few minutes I heard my
aunt let out a painful wail. Danny and I looked at each knowing what the
cry of anguish meant. We held each other crying.

After that family members began trickling into the hospital we had to
separate, wiping the tears away to maintain a strong front. After a while
my mom and dad arrived. Of course they tried to shield me from the truth;
however, I told them that I was a big boy. I knew my cousin was dead and I
could handle it. Deep down inside I questioned whether I was going to be
able to handle things. I introduced Danny to my family and other family
members who didn't know him, explaining that he was Bruce's roommate at
college. After many minutes of family members consoling each other I could
see the sun cresting.

A new day would begin for the first time in our family's life without my
cousin Bruce. Slowly, one by one family members began to empty out of the
small waiting room at the little hospital. They gathered in groups outside
planning out how they all would pitch in helping my aunt and uncle cope
with the death of their youngest son: the heir apparent.

I didn't know what to do, so I began walking to the spot where I parked the
car. After looking it over for scratches I brought it back to the entrance
of the hospital about the time Uncle James and Aunt Flo were emerging. I
parked the car, got out and opened both back doors. Danny got behind the
wheel while I helped my aunt into the backseat. I closed the door and then
stepped forward taking my place on the front passenger side of the Lincoln,
instead of riding with my mom and dad.

Danny drove back to the farm at a steady pace. We all rode in total
silence. Once at the house Uncle James asked that Danny and I park the car
in the garage and then return to the house. When we got back to the house
family members had collected and more kept arriving along with the pastor
and people from the church. Family would assume many of the duties
relieving my aunt and uncle while they made funeral plans. That's the way
things were handled back in the day.

Some of the women began preparing breakfast for family and friends. Some
had brought dishes of food with them while a couple had stopped at bakeries
for pastry. I just stood there in a state of shock. My dad walked up to
Danny and I asking me, "When did you learn to drive son?"

I paused looking at him before I said, "I'm not a kid any longer dad. I've
grown into a man these past few days."

Dad looked at me and said, "Yes you have, yes you have son."

The men began gathering in a group on the big wrap around porch for what I
suppose was some sort of strategic planning session. The pastor was meeting
with Aunt Flo and other women. Danny and I just hung out with the men folk
who were smoking cigars and pipes as they sipped their coffee and
talked. Danny and I didn't know what to do or what to say. We wanted to cry
and hold each other, but that was out of the question. Finally, after what
seemed like hours my mom approached us asking, "Do you boys want something
to eat?"

"Not really, but some coffee would be great," I replied.

"Same here," Danny said.

"Come on in and get some coffee, also there are doughnuts and pastries to
go with the coffee," My mom said. "You boys need some nutrition."

We got up following mom inside. She poured us a couple cups of coffee and
pushed the plate heaped with fresh pastry towards us. We drew up
chairs. The pastry had a sour taste that morning. The coffee was bland, not
hot, just warm. All I wanted to do was go someplace and cry, but I knew I
had to be a man – a strong young man.

So strange, we were talking to Bruce a few hours before and now he was
dead. Life is like that no one knows for sure what the next minute
brings. I overheard my dad and Uncle James talking about me. Dad wanted to
take me home while Uncle James insisted that I stay until my school started
after Labor Day so as to help him finish off some chores. Dad agreed. The
big church fish fry would still be held as planned: in celebration of
Bruce's life.


[I hope my readers all had a blessed Christmas and New Years. Address all
correspondences to Randall at: bn2rumpranger "at" yahoo "dot" com Subject
line: Midwestern Tale.

This is a revised chapter nine. I have been busy, but hopefully I'll have
time to write more chapters. Do not send any e-mail with attachments to my
e-mail address as they are automatically deleted using special anti Spam
software.

All rights reserved. This story is protected under copyright and may not be
distributed on any other website or publications without the express
written permission of the author.]