A ways down the road from where an old radio station used to be, just beyond some thicket of brush and wild texas plain, and down underneath abandoned grounds, a family sat around a dirtied table mid-argument, chewing away at meats and drinking down acohol until their faces were messied and grimed.
"It's the leg that's best, Gramps, and you know it!" Nubbins choked out, after sputtering and stumbling around over a couple of words a few times. "The leg always has the most meat!"
"The leg has the most muscle - and it's only good if you cook it right, which you didn't!" Drayton criticized, face wrinkling. "No seasoning either, I can taste the rot in this." His face was stained with blood dribbling from the rare piece in question, teeth bared and littered with food along the gums. He reached over the table for another beer, cracking the lid and taking a deep swig. He burped and leaned back, seemingly sated. "That's much better."
Nubbins eyed him reproachfully. "So why didn't you cook it then, since you're the handy one in the kitchen?" he asked, biting down on his leg, as if to spitefully prove a point. He appeared to have a hard time gnawing on it though, and it took several chews before he finally swallows it all down, drinking himself. He turned to the decrepit old man, who was in a rocking chair, cutting up his own dinner. "Don't you agree?"
The grandfather of the table shrugged and grunted something under his breath, uninterested. Across the table from Nubbins, Chop Top gave his twin a small grin, chewing into the flesh in his hands. "I think it's just fine, buddy, if you ask me," he drawled slowly, beer and driblets squirting down his chin. Nubbins just rolled his eyes, but seemed to be satisfied enough, muttering something along the lines of, "at least someone appreciates what I do around here."
Chop Top leaned over then, to the silent brother, who was still looking down at his own plate. He had not touched anything quite yet, and instead seemed to stir the food around with his finger. His eyes were sunken behind his leathered mask, but even with his facial disguise the livelier twin could see that he was perturbed by something.
He elbowed the large man, trying to catch his attention. "What about you, Bubba?" he asked, leaning over the table to peek up at him better. "Help ol' Nubbs out here, will you? His cooking is pretty decent, right?"
Bubba looked up around the table. Drayton muttered, "This is ridiculous, you're just helping him turn into a pussy," while still taking bites off his plate. Grandpa was not paying a lick of attention, and Nubbins was eyeing him hopefully. With a sigh, Bubba grabbed a hunk of meat and took a bite, and then gave a small grin and a nod, to which Nubbins sighed in relief.
"Not so bad then, Drayton," he emphasized, gesturing towards Bubba. "That's two people who say they like it just fine. I think you're just being a dick."
"Bubba will eat anything, he's a dumb shit," Drayton quipped back, flicking his fork's contents at Nubbins, who then gets up in anger. Chop Top joins in, whether because he is truly enraged or because he just liked to be part of a ruckus, it was hard to tell. The noise escalated until Grandpa finally snapped out of his comatose state to shout at all of them, "Quite down, the lot of you! You sound like a bunch of coyotes in heat!"
It was at that time that Bubba snuck out, leaving his plate behind.
He shuffled through the old tunnelways, kicking at stones on the ground on the way. He could still hear the echoing of the arguing around the corner. He winced at the way it seemed to reverberate off the old rusted tin around him, and quickened his steps until he reached the old doorway, creaking it open as quietly as he could.
He wasn't supposed to be out here. Not when the sun was still out, anyways. The risk of being seen by someone was high, even at their distance from civilization. Country folk loved to hike around, and there was no telling when someone would come across their hideaway. He supposed there was a quick and easy way to deal with that, if there were only one or two traipsers. He could hear Drayton's voice already though, irritated at him for slipping up if it happened.
He grunted and shut the door behind him, wandering over to one of the trees nearby. He sat underneath it, hands touching the dirt and patches of grass underneath him. The Texan heat was just starting to cool down, and he was lucky to feel a slight breeze come over them just then. The leaves above him rustled quietly. He leaned back against the truck and closed his eyes, just breathing for a moment.
His head spun a lot when his brothers and Grandfather would fight. They were loud, and he was used to it, but some days it hurt. It was loud, and he felt as if he could not think. Not that it mattered much. Drayton seemed to hold the opinion that he didn't have much of a thought anyways, in that lame brain of his. Drayton told everyone they were dim-witted, especially in comparison to himself, but he seemed to say it the most to Bubba.
Bubba liked to think Drayton was wrong. But some days, he couldn't tell. At least Nubbins could talk. He opened his mouth, but not a sound came out except something sounding similar to the braying of a donkey. He could feel himself flushing under his mask, even though more than likely no one had heard him. He scuffed his feet into the dirt, restless and discontent.
He heard the sound of the door creaking open, and he jumped, ready for the scolding. But it was Chop Top at the door, grinning like a loon. He was clearly drunk. "Boy - if Drayton found you out here, he'd have your ass, big buddy," he joked, stumbling over to him. He plopped down besides him and looked up to where Bubba was looking, eyes searching the clouds. "It sure is nice out here though. Nice to breathe something besides piss and sweat sometimes."
He nudged Bubba a bit, and Bubba let himself relax a little. He shrugged in response, fixing his attention on some wild flowers instead. He plucked them one by one, then pulled the petals off, letting the breeze take them.
Chop Top sat beside him silently for a moment, seemingly distracted himself by plain nature. Then he tapped Bubba's knee. "Play Pictures?" he asked, scratching the dirt.
Bubba grinned. He nodded, pulling some patches of grass to clear a space. Then he dug his fingers into the ground, drawing y-e-s.
Chop Top chuckled. "Okay, I describe it, and you draw it," he said. He pursed his lips for a moment. "Uhm - vinyl disc."
Bubba complied, dragging his finger around until he made what looked somewhat like what Chop Top was asking for. Chop Top grinned widely, pleased. "You're good at this," he said, rubbing out the drawing. He scratched his chin, and then snapped his fingers. "Draw some big old hooters," he snorted, holding out his hands. "Big round titties."
He laughed aloud, losing himself in wheezing laughter. Bubba didn't move. Chop Top gave him a look. "Well, I guess you wouldn't really know what those look like, huh?" he asked. Bubba didn't reply. Chop Top seemed to calm down, thinking again. "Draw a dog," he said finally. "If we could have one, I'd always wanted a hunting dog. A hound maybe."
Chop Top was drawing in the dirt, even though that was Bubba's job. Bubba didn't stop him though, just watched. "I think I'd name him Copper or something, you know? And we'd be running through the woods, me and my rifle, busting a buck right in the forehead," he imitated the sound of a rifle going off, holding his hands up, bang! bang! Bubba could imagine it. "Or an unsuspecting wanderer, catch her right in the calf, then string her up for dinner for the next couple of days."
Bubba grunted, erasing the dirt again. Chop Top glanced at him for a moment, then dropped down in the grass, laying his hands behind his head. "Okay, Bubba, draw this," he drawled, eyeing the clouds. "What's eating you lately? You're awful quiet."
"Well, quieter than usual," he joked, giggling. But he sat up on his elbows, looking pointedly at Bubba. "Seriously though, what's on your mind, big fella? I wish you could just tell me sometimes. It'd be so much easier."
Bubba nodded. He leaned on his knees for a bit, thinking. Something like that would be hard to show in a picture. He tried to scrape in the dirt, Chop Top watching. "You're sad?" he asked finally, studying what Bubba had done. Bubba nodded half-heartedly. "What's got you so blue?"
Bubba shrugged. He erased the dirt and drew a question mark. Chop Top sighed. "I wish I knew too," he murmured. He sat up. "Is that why you keep sitting out here so much?"
Bubba nodded. Chop Top leaned against the tree. "Well," he decided, "I reckon I ought to sit with you then. Just for safe-keeping."
Bubba grinned, but Chop Top didn't see it. He had already closed his eyes.
