Biggie and the Devil Diet (3 page)

Biggie always taught me it was rude to stare, but you should have seen Biggie and Butch and Miss Julia and Mrs. Muckleroy staring at the new people. Their eyes like to have fallen right out of their heads. I've got to admit, I stared, too.

First came two youngish women, both thin as whispers. One had a sweet, round face with soft curls falling around it. She was wearing a sundress made of some kind of thin, floaty material. The other was the sporty type, if you know what I mean. She had short, brown hair and was very suntanned. She wore brown slacks with a cream-colored blouse and no makeup. Following them came eight teenage girls, and they sure weren't thin. Every one of them would've had a hard time sitting down in a number-three washtub. The girls were all wearing navy blue walking shorts and white blouses with red bandannas around their necks. They lumbered in and took seats at the long sides of the table. I worried about Miss Mattie's antique chairs. The two skinny ladies sat at the head and foot of the table. Before they sat down, one of the fat girls, the redheaded one, looked right at me and stuck out her tongue. I don't know why. I wasn't doing anything to her. Well, maybe I was staring just a little bit. I couldn't help it. I'd never seen anything like that in my whole life.

"Well, I'll be switched," Biggie said, when she could finally pry her eyes away.

"I'll bet I know who they are," Butch said. "I'll bet those are the folks from out at the Barnwell ranch. Only it's not called that anymore. Now it's called the Bar-LB. Get it? Bar-LB? Bar pounds? It's a fat farm. I think that's right clever, don't you, Biggie?"

"I guess." Biggie picked up her glass and took a quick sip of water. "Has, uh, has the place sold?"

"Biggie, you mean you didn't know?" Miss Julia shot Mrs. Muckleroy a glance. "Why, I would have personally come and told you myself if I'd had any idea."

"Well, Julia, why don't you just tell me now."

"Let me tell her." Mrs. Muckleroy looked like she'd just won the lottery. "Biggie, Rex Barnwell has moved back home!"

Biggie turned white as a sheet. Her hand shook as she reached for her water glass. "And, uh, and he's turned his daddy's ranch into a fat farm?"

"No, not him," Miss Julia said, "his wife."

"His
young
wife," Mrs. Muckleroy said. "I'll bet that's her sitting right over there— the pretty one, I mean."

Just then, Mr. Norman Thripp came over, bringing our food on a large tray. Miss Mattie trotted along behind him. "Norman, if you drop that, I'll kill you," she said, then turned to us. "I told him to make two trips, but
no,
Mr.
macho
man wants to take it all in one load."

Mr. Thripp set the tray down carefully on the table next to ours then started setting our food in front of us after asking who had what. When he finally had time to look around the room, he spotted the party of ten at the table by the window. He looked like he'd just peed on an electric fence. "Wha— What's, I mean, who're they?" he asked.

"Go on back to the kitchen, Norman, before they see you gaping. I'll explain later." Miss Mattie took her ticket book out of the pocket of her frilly apron and went to take their orders then came back and sat at our table.

"I'll be switched," she said. "Do you know every single one of them ordered just the garden salad? How do they expect a person to stay in business with orders like that?"

"Well, after all, they are on a diet." Biggie took a bite of her pasta. "Mattie, do you have any of that raspberry tea?"

"Sure. Anybody else?" They all said yes but me. I ordered a Big Red. Miss Mattie went to fetch the drinks.

"I know all about the place," Butch said. "I have to go out there every week and take fresh flowers for the main house."

"Tell us, Butch." Miss Julia writes for the local newspaper. "Maybe I should put something in my column."

"Well," Butch said, "first of all, the old man, Mr. Rex, is in real poor health. He hardly comes out of his room. Ya'll know, he used to be a famous race car driver— designed the Barnwell Baracuda back in the sixties. Naturally, I don't know much about race cars, but they say it was real fast."

"We know all that, Butch." Mrs. Muckleroy put down her fork and glared at him. "Tell us about the young wife. Is she a bimbo?"

"Judge for yourself," Butch said. "That's her sitting right over there— the one in the dress."

"My soul," Biggie said, "she can't be over thirty. Rex is, let me see, Rex would be sixty-six by now."

"Where have you been, Biggie?" Miss Julia said. "They're doing it all the time— old codgers marrying young women. Look at Michael Douglas; look at Warren Beatty."

"Look at Alvis Turnipseed out at Rocky Mound," Butch said. "He married a girl thirteen."

"So what about the fat farm?" Biggie asked.

Butch looked at his rhinestone watch. "Okay, but I've got to tell it fast. They turned the bunkhouse into a dormitory and added on a gym and weight room, and they built a brand-new horse barn and dog kennels. It seems that Mrs. Barnwell and Grace Higgins— that's her, that other woman over there— have some new ideas for helping teenage girls with weight problems. They call it 'Earth-Spirit Renewal,' whatever that means! They do a lot of odd things like, for instance, they think it helps for the girls to care for animals."

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Biggie said.

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it, did I?" Butch pushed his plate away then turned his chair sidewise, crossed his legs, and pointed his toes. "All I'm saying is, it's different. They spend a lot of time outside at night, too. They call it 'moon bathing,' think they draw positive energy from the moon."

"Ooh, this is getting strange," Miss Julia said.

"That's not the strangest part," Butch said with a giggle. "They moon bathe in the raw. Oscar D. Hayes, who has the farm next door, saw them one night when he was out looking for a fox that had been getting at his chickens. They were all lined upon blankets on the side of a hill. Oscar said his dog, Prince, ran under the house and wouldn't come out until four o'clock the next afternoon after seeing that. Oscar said he was pretty shaken up about it his own self."

"So what's wrong with Rex?" Biggie asked.

"Lots of things," Butch said. "One thing is, he had his leg amputated on account of his diabetes, but I think his heart's bad, too."

"Come, J.R." Biggie got up suddenly. "I think I've heard enough."

I had to run to keep up with Biggie, she got out of there so fast.

2

R
osebud is my substitute daddy. He is also my best friend in the whole wide world. He has taught me all I know about fishing and hunting, and he even coaches my baseball team. And he never ever gets mad at me even when I do something really dumb. That's why I was so surprised when he near about bit my head off today. Here is how it happened.

Biggie went right up to her room and closed the door as soon as we got back from the tearoom. She wouldn't come out even though I banged on her door and called her name a bunch of times. Finally, after about the tenth time, she hollered at me to go away and leave her alone. Well, I don't have to tell you that really hurt my feelings. I went looking for Willie Mae, but she hadn't come back from the funeral home yet, so I just went into my room to play video games while Booger sat on the floor trying to bat the moving figures with his paw. After about an hour of that, I got hungry and so did Booger, so we went downstairs to see what we could find to eat. Rosebud was in the kitchen stirring a pot of red beans on the stove.

"How come Willie Mae's not cooking?"

"She went over to Mrs. Rosa Dorsett's house to stay with her family for a spell. It seems they all pretty upset about losing they mama and all."

"So what are we supposed to do? Starve?"

Rosebud turned around and gave me a look. "What do it look like
I'm
doing?"

"Cooking beans. What else are we having?"

"Cornbread and buttermilk."

"Rosebud, that's not a meal!"

"It's a fine meal for plenty of folks, young'un, and you'd best be proud you got it."

That hurt my feelings, but that's not the worst part. The worst part came after we'd eaten our cornbread and beans and went out to the front porch to sit while Rosebud smoked his cigar. Biggie never came down for supper.

Figuring to lighten the mood, I decided to tell Rosebud a funny story. "Rosebud, you should have seen what I saw today."

"What?" He put his feet up on the porch rail and blew a fat smoke ring.

"I saw eight fat girls down at the tearoom. Ooo-wee, they were so funny. They jiggled every time they moved, and when they got up to leave, their butts looked like two hogs fighting in a tow sack." I got the giggles just thinking about it and about rolled off my chair laughing. When I finally caught my breath, I looked at Rosebud to see if he was laughing, too.

He wasn't. He was glaring at me.

"Boy," he said in a tone I'd never heard, "I never thought I'd be ashamed of you, but right this minute, I can't hardly look at you."

"Me? Why? It was funny, Rosebud. One of um liked to have broke one of Miss Mattie's antique chairs, and her old butt just hung over the edge. Rosebud, why are you looking at me that way?"

"I oughta burn your butt, that's why. Ain't I taught you nothin'?"

I was getting scared, the way he was looking at me. "I'm sorry, Rosebud. What did I do?"

"You made fun of somebody that can't help the way they is."

Now I was getting mad. "They can help it! They don't have to eat so much."

"Ain't none of your business how much they eats."

We sat there for a long time not talking. I was trying to figure out what I'd done to upset Rosebud so. Finally, he spoke.

"I ever tell you about my uncle Eroy Robichaux?"

"Uh-uh."

"Uncle Eroy was the sweetest feller you could ever hope to meet— and the fattest. He spend most of his days settin' on an old sofa on my grandmomma's front porch. He had arms the size of hams, and his face had swelled up to the size of a pumpkin. He didn't have no neck a'tall. He stayed on that couch all day long. Only time he'd get up was when he had to make his way down to the outhouse, which was about fifty yards from the house. Even then, he'd have to hold on to a fence post to rest on the way there and back. He'd get so out of breath, doncha know.

"But he was a kind man. Everybody loved Uncle Eroy— even the animals. Them old dogs would just lay around his feet all day. Even the chickens would come up and set on his knees. Once, I saw a mockingbird fly down and take a chunk of bread right out of his hand."

"Did he sleep out there, too?"

"Course not. At night, he slept on a mattress on the floor what my grandmomma had fixed up for him after his bed broke down."

"Why didn't he go on a diet?"

"Oh, Uncle Eroy didn't eat that much. Oh, he might have four or five eggs for breakfast with several biscuits and a couple of slices of ham, but he wasn't what you might call a real heavy eater. We all ate like that on account of we worked so hard. No, it was something else that made Uncle so fat. Glands, or something, I expect."

"Glands can make you fat?"

"Oh, sure. And sometimes, it's in your genes. You know, like all your family's got the same problem."

"I never knew that."

"I know. You just wants to make fun of people, don't you?"

"I said I was sorry, Rosebud."

"Okay. So, anyway, every week or so, Miss Marie Guidry from up the road would drop by to pass the time of day with Eroy. Sometimes she'd bring along a cake or some cookies she'd baked. Uncle Eroy loved her something awful."

"I bet she didn't love him back though— him being so fat and all."

"Miss Marie was kind and gentle. She loved everybody, so I guess she loved Uncle Eroy, too. But if you mean in a marryin' way, well no, she didn't. Miss Marie was the most popular gal in the parish. She could of married anybody she wanted to."

"Poor Uncle Eroy."

Rosebud ignored that remark. "One spring day, Uncle Eroy was settin' on his couch enjoying the morning sun when he got the urge to visit the outhouse. Wellsir, he picked up his walking stick and hoisted himself up off of the couch and, holding on to the porch pillars, he edged himself down to the ground then slowly, slowly made his way down the path to the privy."

"Is this going to get interesting?"

"Hush, boy, and lemme tell this. After Uncle Eroy got through with his business and was standing out in the sun again, he taken a notion to take himself a little walk. Just a few steps, doncha know, to see if he could. So instead of going back to the house like he always did, he turned toward the woods that run along behind the privy and looked down the little cow path that led right into them woods."

Just then a car stopped in front of the house and Willie Mae got out. She came up to the front of the house but didn't come up to the porch.

"Hey, honey," Rosebud said. "How's Mr. Dorsett and them?"

"Taking it hard." Willie Mae wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "Law me, I'm tired. I must have cooked for thirty people or more. The whole family and then some were over at that house." She looked at me. "You get any supper?"

I had just opened my mouth to speak when Rosebud kicked me hard on the ankle. "I, uh— oh, yeah. Rosebud made us some beans and cornbread. It was good!"

"Fine then. I'm plumb wore out. I'll see you in the morning." With that, she turned and walked around the side of the house to her little cottage out back. After we heard the screen door slam shut, Rosebud continued.

"'I'll just take mebbe two, three steps,' Uncle Eroy thought. So slowly, slowly, holding on to the privy door, he put one foot out, then another and another, grunting with every step on account of it was such a effort, moving them old heavy legs of his. He got to concentratin' so hard on moving one foot in front of the other that he forgot to look and see how far he'd gone. When he did stop and hold on to a sweet gum tree to catch his breath, he was surprised to see that he'd come a good twenty yards from the outhouse. He was near about to the edge of the woods."

"So then did he start back?"

"No. It was a funny thing. Uncle Eroy felt a sense of power come over him. 'I done gone this far,' he thought, 'lemme see can I go just a little bit farther.' Well, to make a long story short, he kept on walking 'til he found himself deep in the woods and tired. That man was plumb wore out. He was scared to sit down on the ground on account of he might not be able to get back up."

"He probably couldn't," I said.

"You right," Rosebud said. "Well, before long, he found a dead tree laying across the path, so he just taken a seat on that to rest. Away off, he could hear Grandmomma and them calling for him. Uncle Eroy said he never did understand why he didn't answer them. Something just told him to keep on walking, so after he rested awhile, he got up and commenced putting one foot after the other again."

"How far did he go, Rosebud?"

"Oh, he went quite a good little ways. Uncle Eroy walked from St. Martinville to New Iberia and then on down to Jeanerette."

"Golly!"

"Oh, that ain't all. He crossed the bayou at Morgan City and kept on walking."

"How did he eat? Where did he sleep?"

"Ate whatever he could find along the way: berries, crawfish, caught him a fish now and then."

"I'll bet he lost some of that weight. Right, Rosebud?"

"You betcha. By the time he got to New Orleans, Uncle Eroy was plumb rawboney. He was tall, too. Did I tell you that?"

I shook my head.

"Oh, yeah, cher, Uncle Eroy would have gone six feet or more."

"So what did he do next? Go back home?"

"Nope. He went and got him a job working the docks. He found him a little room to rent and stayed there near 'bout half a year. Made hisself some good money, too. Still and all, Uncle Eroy wasn't too crazy about city life what with the noise and lights, and he said he was gettin' right tired of them smelly old docks, so he took a notion to move on. First, he bought himself a good pair of walkin' boots though."

"Back home?"

"Well, not at first. Uncle Eroy figured he had missed a lot spending his days settin' on that couch. He wanted to see a little more of the world. What he done was, he left New Orleans goin' east. What he didn't know was, he was about to get a surprise."

"What surprise?"

"It happened just after he'd passed through Slidell." Rosebud took a fresh cigar out of his pocket. "Run get me a cup of coffee, will you?"

I hurried inside to the kitchen and took Rosebud's favorite coffee mug with a picture of the
Dixie Queen
on it and poured thick black coffee out of the pot on the stove. It smelled awful. When I got back with the coffee, Rosebud was puffing on his cigar. "What surprise?"

"He seen a sign, that's what."

"You mean an omen, like Willie Mae sees?"

"Naw. It was a sign. It said
WELCOME TO MISSISSIPPI
."

"Oh."

"Well, you see, Uncle Eroy didn't want to go to Mississippi. He figured he ain't seen all of his own home state yet. So he turned around and headed back home, only this time he turned north so he could pass through Baton Rouge, thinking he might like to take a look at the state capital. Then, after he'd seen enough, he cut through the swamp to Beaux Bridge and from there it wasn't but a little way home. By the time the first frost came, he'd done made it back."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Everything. You see, his folks was so glad to see him, they killed a hog and roasted it over an open fire. The party went on for four whole days with singin' and dancin' and quite a little bit of drinkin' and eatin'."

"What finally happened to Uncle Eroy?"

"Oh, he married Miss Marie Guidry and they had seven kids, all girls, before Uncle Eroy fell out of a pirogue, hit his head on a rock, and drowned himself in the bayou."

We sat for a long time not talking while Rosebud sipped his coffee and smoked his cigar. Finally, I had to ask a question. "Rosebud, was that story supposed to tell me something? Because I don't see what it has to do with those fat girls at the tearoom."

"You don't?"

"Uh-uh."

"Well, what did Uncle Eroy do first?"

"He decided to take a walk?"

"Boy, are you thick or something? He had to take that first step is what. That first step took the most courage. Seems to me that's what those girls did when they went to that there diet place. Now Uncle Eroy, he kept right on puttin' one foot in front of the other until he got where he wanted to be. That took determination. Only time will tell whether them girls got what it takes to make it, but you ain't got no call to be jokin' around about them because you ain't got any idea what you'd do in their place."

"I guess you're right, Rosebud. But I wish Uncle Eroy hadn't died."

"Him? He was gonna die soon anyway. He was eighty-seven when he drowned in the bayou. Now, get on up to bed. It's past your bedtime."

I pounded on Biggie's door when I got upstairs, but she wouldn't answer.

"Biggie," I called "Biggie, are you okay."

When she answered, I could have sworn she was crying. "Go away, J.R. I'll see you in the morning."