Late one night, sorrow come round
Scratching at my door.
But I cut my hands
And break my back
Draggin' this bag of stones
Kasey Chambers ft Shane Nicholson. Rattlin' Bones
The porch swing creaked as it gently rocked back and forth. Sophia sat in the corner of it with her doll beside her and The Yearling in her hands but the words were out of reach.
She wasn't a strong reader to begin with, and the dialect that the novel was composed of converting it to modern day speech worked her mind pretty hard. Hardly having slept at all last night made it impossible and she found herself going over the same sentence again and again.
Everything was so new and strange, the room and every single person being in there, overwhelmed her. Any time she got close to going to sleep, the house would creak or someone would cough or grunt or get up to go to the bathroom and that would wake up the demon who would start chatting in her ear.
Sophia deserved that.
From over the picturesque green fields surrounding the farmhouse, the sun started reaching up on to the porch but only enough to lie over half the porch, leaving the porch swing in the cool shadows. Sophia put the book face down to save her spot even though she was going to have to reread, she got off the swing and climbed up on the railing and sat on the top to feel the sun on her skin.
The concentrated warmth seeped down in to her bones. She had always loved the feeling. Sophia closed her eyes and just basked in the morning rays.
"You're a early bird," a voice behind her made her jump and nearly fall off of her narrow perch.
Rick came over to stand by the railing. "I used to be like you 'til I reached about thirteen an' then there was a no getting me up before noon. I think Carl's reached that point a little earlier."
"Yeah, him and Glenn. I couldn't figure out how they slept so late in a tent. We'll never get 'em up now," said Sophia.
Rick smiled and nodded.
I like Rick. He has his own family to take care of but he is always doing his best to look out for everyone. Like how he came here last night even though we had been kicked off and told we couldn't stay. I don't think he did that just so we could move back but because, like Jim said, 'he's a police officer, probably just came across some folks needing help'. We don't really need to worry about obeying the law anymore but we all need to be protected.
"Lori's making some breakfast," said Rick. "You should go in and grab a plate."
"I'm good, thank you."
The screen door opened with a clatter. Shane walked out, popping his POLICE baseball cap on his shaven head.
"Good morning," he greeted her.
"Morning," she returned the greeting.
Shane was good too. He was the one who set up the camp in the quarry, that was no easy job with us all so scared and running around like chickens with their heads cut off.
He did way more than that, I still had to thank him properly for what he did…
His knuckles were throbbing, the ruts in between them felt like they had grown new veins so that they could have their own pulse. Shane rubbed them, he hoped that Ed's face felt ten times worse than his hand.
Rage flared up inside of him when he thought of that piece of shit. Rick was going back for a similar scumbag right now. The difference between the two, Ed and Merle, was that Shane never should've let the Dixons in. The brothers could hold their own, unlike Ed's family, a wife and a young daughter. But that meant they could shoot and on top of that hunt.
It was actually the Dixons that had brought the domestic abuse case going on in their camp to his attention.
Shane had been getting into a heated argument with them about being too loud, especially with their language. When Merle had remarked that he wasn't the one beating women and went on to point out the bruise on Carol and Sophia's shy mannerism. Daryl stepped up next and told Shane that if he didn't handle it, they would. Not only was Shane surprised over how steely Daryl got, Merle gave him a what-the-fuck look but heartedly agreed that they would handle it and it would be ugly.
Shane looked up to see the girl that Merle had said wouldn't let ya near her holding out a blue-labeled bottle of heaven.
"I heard you saying that you missed having pepsi. I found this in our car," Sophia explained. "You can't drink it right now but if you leave it outside tonight, it'll probably get cold enough to taste alright."
"Thanks, honey." Shane took the bottle from her.
He wasn't sure what she was up to with this. He had just beaten up her father and here she was giving him the last soft drink. Maybe she thought she had to appease him.
Sophia cast a look over her shoulder with a snap of her neck a couple of times. She was very alert, basically to the point of being twitchy. She could be trying to reach out to someone who she knew could help her, just didn't know what to say.
"Hey Sophia, your dad lays another hand on your mom or on you, you come tell me. 'Kay?" said Shane.
The girl's eyes went wide, she curled back like any frightened child fearing reprimanding from a abusive captor. He hated to admit but the Dixons were right about her, Sophia's mannerisms reeked of being mishandled.
"You won't get in to any trouble." Shane reassured her.
She opened her mouth like she was going to say something but closed it. She clutched at her hair and looked back over at her camp.
"He'll never know you told me anything," Shane continued.
Sophia nodded, only as a gesture that she understood what he was saying.
"I'm fine," she said.
The two partners talked about what they should be doing today; checking fences and their vehicles and other chores, some thing about trip wires and flares that Sophia didn't quite understand. What she felt was the whole conversation was tense. Shane walked off in a definite mood.
He has been acting different since I got back.
"Sophia, I don't think you should be out here by yourself, why don't you go back inside?" said Rick.
Cause I don't belong in there.
"Yes sir," complied Sophia.
"Thank you," Rick said.
She hopped off into the grass and then backtracked up the steps, collected her doll and book and did as she was told. What she was always told now.
Go back and be with everyone. Forever and always.
"Hey," Sophia called back to Rick. "I could take inventory of what we got for food."
"That'd be really helpful. Thank you."
I liked Rick a little less for sending me in. When I'm around everyone I have to act normal and pretend that I'm okay even if I'm not feeling that way at that moment.
Sophia went in through the front door. There were a few less lumpy sleeping bags on the floor. She stashed The Yearling and her doll in her carefully organized pack and grabbed a blue erasable pen and the green coil notebook that she used for math. But before she went to take inventory of the pantry, she went in to the bedroom to check in with her mom. Carol was sleeping the chair, her head crooked over to her shoulder like a bird.
Her daughter's close proximity set off her mother alarm and she woke up.
"Good morning, sunshine," Carol greeted, yawning.
"Do you need anything?" asked Sophia.
"A hug from my beautiful girl," Carol reached out to her.
Sophia gladly took the invite to curl up in her mother's lap.
As bony as Mom is, I'm always comfortable cuddled up to her. I think if Mom was as fat as Tiffany's mom, we wouldn't be as cozy because I wouldn't be able to fit up on the chair with her. Also she wouldn't be able to give the best hugs in the world if she was as big as Tiff's mom.
"How is he?" Sophia stole a quick look at a sleeping Daryl. She had avoided looking at him because the guilt made her queasy.
"He's on the mend," answered Carol.
Sophia rested her head against her mother. The demon appeared leaning in the doorway. Maybe she couldn't come in here, Sophia hoped.
"Haven't you done enough?" She asked.
Sophia didn't answer. She only got worse when you paid her any attention.
"He's not in a lot of pain?"
"I don't think so," Carol said.
"How are you so sweet without melting in the rain?" Carol tapped her nose.
She's not. She's really only asking so she can stop feeling so bad, said the dark eyed duplicate leaning in the doorway.
"Gosh Roo, you look exhausted." Carol pet her head. "I know it must have been hard for you to get any sleep last night. I'm sorry I wasn't with you."
"It's ok," said Sophia.
"He looked harder for you than anyone else," said Carol lightly. "Stubbornly refused to stop and wouldn't let me lose any hope that we would find you. The day he found you, he wasn't even supposed to go out, supposed to be resting but as soon as he knew no one could go out because we had to move our camp, he stole a horse and took off. You weren't going to spend another night if he could help it."
It made sense to me that Daryl would go farther into forest than anyone else, he spent the night out there when we were in the quarry. But I didn't know that. I just supposed that everyone just split up and looked around the woods. Like so many times before I wanted to ask why me? Only I meant it different this time.
The warmth of her mother overcame the whirring of her mind, even made the wicked girl in the doorway go away and Sophia was able to shut down her mind and had herself a badly needed nap. She was woken up prematurely when Carol started to shuffle.
"Put 'er right here," she heard Daryl say.
"Are you sure?" her mom whispered.
"Yeah."
Sophia was briefly aware she had been on her feet but it was over so fast she wasn't sure it happened. She was aware-ish that she had been moved to a bed but didn't really care until she woke up to a; "psssst, psst, pst."
Over the bump of a pillow she saw a fluffy gray cat batting something. She sat up and saw the moving bump under the covers that was Daryl's hand as he played the position of mouse in a literal game of cat and mouse. Sophia had seen that cat before, it had crept downstairs to investigate all the new people in it's domain. Andrea had reached out to pet and it hissed at her and ran away.
Mom says that people who animals like are more honesty or trustworthy – I don't remember what it was she said. The gist was of it was if an animal likes you it's a sign that you're a good person. Daryl had so many chances that night, I was naked and tired and near starved to death. But he didn't do anything to me. I was still kinda nervous being beside him.
"Do you need anything?" asked Sophia, kicking back the blanket.
"Nah, I'm good," Daryl answered.
The cat got a hold of the bump and started biting down into it. Growling in a grunting way.
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
"Nah, blanket's pretty thick."
"No, your collarbone?" She had to know.
"Depends, as long as I don't move to much it seems alright." He said softly.
I bet it hurt a lot. I never broke a bone before but my ankle had just stopped hurting and it was only twisted. Daryl had done so much for me. Why did I do this to him?
"That's an easy one." The dark eyed one had crossed the threshold of the door into the room. "You're so dirty you can't help but mess up everything else. Especially when you put your vile little mind to it. Don't you remember? You were freaking out about the cans and you wished him gone."
"I'm sorry," Sophia blurted.
I didn't mean to. I was scared. She defended herself.
"Whaddya have to be sorry for?" He asked, taken back.
She had the chance to confess what happened. How she got scared of his observant nature, scared that he knew what no one could.
Don't worry he doesn't no know. Obviously no one does, dummy. If they knew, they wouldn't let you be here.
"I'm just sorry this happened to you," she chickened out.
A secret he said.
"Yeah, you an' me both," Daryl grumbled.
He stopped playing with the cat and laid back and looked up at the ceiling. Sophia could see his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. She could tell that he was upset, had that air about him, she wasn't sure if that was because he really was in pain even though he wasn't saying or if it was what she said.
Like she told Rick she would, Sophia went into the kitchen and started taking stock of what was in the pantry. She had started with the top shelf and moved down from there. Just as she was about to hit the second shelf from the bottom she had to turn the page.
Funions- II
Since the bags of the odd one hundred percent artificial onion rings were on the shelf above and were not cans either, she wrote it on top of the margin. To properly take inventory she had to pull down all the cans so she could count them.
Heinz Baked Beans- IIII
No Name Beans- I
PC Blue Menu Soybeans- III
Chef Boyardee Ravioli-
The clatter of dishes made her jump. Sophia stopped counting cans of ravioli and peeked through the pantry door into the kitchen. Maggie had entered the kitchen, Patricia had been in there for awhile, occasionally looking at the
"How's Beth?" asked Patricia.
"Awful. Won't eat. Can hardly get her to talk. She's distraught, worse than she was after Mom died, after the barn. God Patricia I don't know what to do." Maggie said.
"Well I know what both your parents would say," Patricia paused.
"Don't use the Lord's name in vain. Maggie, you're doing all you can. She'll come around in her own time."
I didn't know who they were talking about. But I was happy to hear of it because whoever this Beth was, she would distract everyone from me until I get it together since I wasn't allowed to be alone anymore. It's better that way. If I could be alone for a little while.
"Can't hurt anyone either."
Sophia placed a can of ravioli up on the shelf beside the beans.
One…
Today minus forty-one days. He thought, staring up at the ceiling.
Daryl was determined not to get out of bed. A rare decision for him but desperate times called for desperate measures that went to running the risk of getting bedsores. He figured the stiller he was the better the bone could knit back together.
But his bladder had other plans. He prepared himself for pain when he sat up. Much to his surprise, his collarbone didn't pulsate anymore. It ached a little but nothing like the last night. Walking wasn't an agonizing exercise, going up
He had tolerated worse. That time he fell out of a blind, he severely bruise his tailbone. A tailbone is not something you think moves around a whole lot until you hurt it, then you painfully learn that your tailbone is at the core of every single movement you make.
The collarbone apparently wasn't. Walking was doable now, even the stairs.
It was also lucky that it had been his left side, and not his right. He would be completely capable of carrying on with it for six weeks.
Instead of going back to the bedroom after he went to the bathroom, almost as easy as he would've if he wasn't gibbled, he wandered outside where Rick, Shane, T-Dog, and Carl were loading up planks of wood in the back of a pick-up.
"What we got goin' on here?" he asked.
"We found the broken fence where the walkers came through, we're gonna fix it up first, and then get going on the rebuild project."
"Good idea," Daryl inspected the planks. They were good, thick and sturdy but there weren't enough of them. "Have to make a run into town an' get some more."
"Yeah we already found a hardware store in the town, and got big lumber yard on flagged on the map the next town over. Prolly go out there tomorrow."
He hung around while they were loading up the last of them. He knew that lifting anything would be too strenuous but hammering only required one good arm when you really got down to it.
"You coming with us?" Shane asked with a tone that said you shouldn't be.
"Yeah I am," answered Daryl with responding tone of you have a problem with that.
Rick stepped between them as they started to advance toward each other to properly get in each other. From over Shane's shoulder, he could see T-Dog shake his head.
"I think we got enough man power. You're off this afternoon, enjoy it," said Rick.
"Hammering ain't hard work," Daryl walked off to the driver's side door. "I'll drive, I've seen how y'all drive stick, hard to get repairs done now, don't think Hershel would appreciate ya fryin' off the clutch."
He wrenched the door open and hopped into the driver's seat. T-Dog and Carl climbed into the cab with him. Rick and Shane sat in the box. It was tempting to try and pitch Shane out. He started up the truck and drove off at a slow, steady pace.
Driving was a little trickier than getting his dick out his pants. Since his right arm had to shift gears and do the majority of the turning of the steering wheel as well the ride got pretty bumpy and jerky when they had to turn off the gravel road and into the field but he didn't stall it and that was all that mattered.
He didn't need much direction since they were driving through an open field and it was easy to see where the fence was broken as all the barbed wire was hanging off like those annoying strings that come off your clothes and you can pull them forever.
Three post were pulled right out of the ground, Daryl pulled over next to it. He knelt down in the dusty dirt. There were a lot of tracks and it would take a lot of geeks to unravel this fence as it was meant to hold livestock of over a thousand pounds.
There weren't that many walkers in the Greene's house last night and this herd was not a part of the one that had tore through their camp.
"After this, we should take another look around the property. There is a lot of unaccounted for walkers," Daryl said quietly to Rick.
Rick, T-Dog and Shane worked on putting up the two new posts in the old holes while him and Carl got started converting the good for livestock barbed wire to a solid barricade.
The sling greatly reduced how far Daryl could extend his arm, and he couldn't place the nail very well at the top, after a couple tries he finally got it to stick in the wood.
As soon as he hit the nail, it spiraled off into the tall grass but he found it after Carl had done a whole plank by himself. When the posts were put back in place, all of the boys were putting up boards and being boys they had to start a competition. Daryl spent a lot of his time looking for nails in the grass and had his ass handed to him.
At least you're still helping, he consoled himself, who cares how fast you work?
"Think it's time for a smoke break," said T-Dog after a while.
"Hell yeah," agreed Daryl.
As courteous smokers, they moved down wind from the others who didn't.
"When did you start?" asked T-Dog after his first drag.
"Around fourteen."
Daryl kicked himself for answering honestly. He had the chance now to quit being redneck trash and he was blowing it.
"I think I was about fifteen," said T-Dog. "All the older boys in my 'hood did and I had to too to impress 'em."
"Same. First time was actually in a field like this one. I was helping brand calves out at my neighbors and the older boys pushed me into it."
"How did you get cigarettes?"
"Merle, when he was around, and stole them from my pa when he weren't. You?"
"I use to steal them from my Moms."
Two things struck Daryl in that conversation. The referral to the 'hood and how he called his mom, moms. He had heard other people use those words. People like him. So T-Dog may not have come from the best background either.
He grew out of it though. Daryl thought.
They went back to the fence. T-Dog would get the nails going for Daryl so that he wouldn't hit them right off. It was embarrassing but he didn't have to play find a needle in a haystack anymore and the nail supply lasted longer.
Unwilling to admit that all this activity was killing him as a throbbing ball of heat lit up his whole shoulder. Daryl saw it through to the end and then he drove them back to the house to get some guns to go on a geek hunt.
While they waited for Shane to grab the guns, Daryl thought about going inside grabbing his trusty crossbow but he would only be able to take one shot with it since he couldn't reload it. The thought of asking someone else load it almost physically hurt him.
"Dad, can I come? Please? There's nothing to do," begged Carl, who they were going to drop off.
"What's Sophia up to?" asked Rick.
"She organizing cans or something," Carl continued to whine, "Remember how good of a shot I am. Shane tell him."
He didn't hear what Shane said but it convinced Rick as Carl excitedly jumped back into the truck and then raced out to ride in the box.
"It'll be better if I ride in the box, be able to get a better look." Daryl gave up his driver's seat.
"You sure you want to come?" asked T-Dog as Daryl pussyfooted out of the cab.
"Got to," Daryl said.
The truck ride was like walking after he broke the damn bone all over again. Daryl fidgeted the knot of the sling at the back of his neck. Maybe it had come loose and that's why the jostling was now getting to him.
"Can you see if this is coming undone?" Daryl asked Carl.
Carl pulled at the end of the knot to test it.
"Nope," he said. "My friend, Spencer broke his collarbone. He had one of those dark blue slings with Velcro."
"Yeah I've seen those ones."
"Maybe when Glenn or someone goes to town, they could check the pharmacy for one."
"Yeah, maybe."
Daryl scanned the horizon, trying not to think about his pain.
"Spencer didn't have to wear it very long."
"Kids heal faster. Enjoy that."
"You're not that old," Carl said.
Feel like a fossil, Daryl thought over his aches and pains.
They took a safari tour of the Greene's fields that included the pasture where the cows grazed. Much to Carl's visible disappointment, they didn't find any walkers. While it worried Daryl, he was fine with going back. His body had had enough.
"There you are," Hershel said when they walked in. "You are really overdue for pain meds."
That explained a lot. Daryl felt his stomach drop and hit his intestines like a rock. So he wasn't fine. He was just numbed to pain so he thought he was.
As if it were a secret, he snuck upstairs to the bathroom and took his missed dose. The painkillers made him sleepy, which was the perfect excuse for Daryl to leave the others in the sitting room and sulk back into the bedroom to have a nap.
He would've stayed in there for the rest of the day if he had been allowed to eat dinner in there but he was denied room service and had to go eat downstairs with everyone.
At the awkwardly silent table, Daryl hardly looked up from his plate. He wouldn't be able to keep his cool if he got another look of pity. When his eyes did get bored of watching his plate, they would go over to Sophia's and watch her cut up her meat loaf, asparagus and potatoes into perfectly even pieces.
Her knife cut through the silence with a grating noise as it scrapped against the plate. Everyone looked over to her for a moment and then went back to eating.
"I have to go to bathroom," she excused calmly.
The abrupt way she left was not so calm.
Daryl woke up early the next morning. That was more like him.
Today minus forty days.
He walked down the hallway, past the room filled with sleeping bodies in bags all over the floor, into the kitchen.
The bottle of painkillers from his brother's stash was too big to fit comfortable in his pocket so he put a few into a Ziploc baggie to keep with him for the rest of the day.
His plan for today was to not miss his meds. Daryl had only started degrading when he didn't have any painkillers in his bloodstream. So if he kept them in his system he'd be able to help out still.
"Morning son," Dale greeted.
"Mornin'"
Daryl really appreciated that Dale didn't ask him if he needed any help when he was making coffee. Old age had not dulled Dale's mind as far as Daryl could see. The old man probably knew how much Daryl was hating everyone's special treatment of him.
On that understanding, they had a pleasant conversation while he waited for the others to get up to go for the lumber run. At the very least he could be a lookout.
That was his plan.
"Daryl, you're not coming with us." Rick's plan was different.
"What?" he snapped.
T-Dog, Glenn, Shane, and Andrea who had convened on the porch made a speedy exit over to wait by the truck.
"You over did it yesterday. You know you did," Rick said trying to look Daryl in the eyes who was trying to avoid eye contact.
"I'll be fine. It's not like I need someone watching me, I don't need to be taken care of –" Daryl spoke fast as he tended to do when he was thrown off.
"No but you do need to take care of that arm so that it heals right."
Daryl had gone from thrown off to floored and when he was floored by something he was silent.
"What would you rather sitting out for the next few weeks or having that arm crippled for the rest of your life. If you keep pushing it that's whats going to happen," continued Rick.
He hadn't ever thought of the long term. Daryl had just thought that it would go back to normal no matter what, it was only a matter of weeks. Rick was right. If Daryl fucked up his arm, there would be no surgery to fix it in this new world.
"You're staying here." Rick said with unnecessary finality.
And so Daryl was left behind with the elderly, women and children, staring at the dust rise on the gravel road as they drove off. He was pissed.
At everything.
Knowing he couldn't be near anyone, Daryl went for a walk. He found some good, light branches for arrow making. That was something he could probably do on bed rest. But he didn't
Obviously Daryl knew why this had happened. But it still seemed so unfair.
When he came back to the house, Sophia was watering his motorcycle (since Daryl had been fostering the machine for a while now, he was referring to more and more as his instead of Merle's) with a watering can. When he got a little closer he could see the foamy suds sloughing off it.
She froze in the middle of giving it a spotless towel dry and looked at him like she was afraid she was going to be in trouble.
"This thing has never looked so good in it's entire life," Daryl circled the motorcycle.
The metal and especially the chrome caught every beam of sunlight and threw it back at him. Sophia's smile ran a close second in brightness as she went back to wiping it off with careful attention.
She unscrewed a tin of turtle wax.
"Hey, ya don't have to do that. It looks great."
"I'm bored. Keeps me busy." She said as she rubbed the wax in small circles on the chassis.
He knew that she wasn't bored. She had to do a perfect job to shut that alarm in her head off.
Daryl hadn't noticed this peculiar creature much in the quarry; she had a way of staying out off the radar. Daryl paid special attention to her. Sophia, much like him, didn't want everyone's attention. So he knew last night when she left the table last night at dinner, she didn't need to go to the bathroom. She was upset. She probably felt ashamed when everyone saw how she had cut her food.
Daryl's pity party stopped. Seeing what Sophia had to deal with, what he was going through didn't seem so bad.
Today minus thirty-nine days.
Daryl thought about marking the bedpost like a prisoner. Staying in bed didn't bother him. He felt kind of cruddy today. The hours of painkiller dependency wasn't agreeing with him and had hardened his stomach and abdomen.
It's not like it mattered.
Like the stages of grieving, and maybe Daryl was grieving how he use to be, his anger had dissolved to depression.
The cat came in and laid down with him. Purring like a motor when he gave it a scratch behind the ear.
When he got bored of lying there. Daryl dragged the crossbow over on to the bed and began inspecting it and it's bolts to figure out how he was going to make more arrows. His furry friend batted at the strap.
"Thought you might like some coffee," said a delicate voice.
Carol came in, holding to steaming cups. She sat with him for a while and they continued their conversation from the night she stayed by his side about their rural upbringing. The continuation of Carol's story was that she was actually living in Canton before the end of the world, they had moved there for Ed to find some work. He was a used car salesman. Carol waitressed at a diner.
"How about you take a nice hot bath, probably feel good," said Carol after their conversation.
"I don't do baths," Daryl said as he went back to fussing with the crossbow again.
"A shower?" Carol persisted.
"Are you trying ta say somethin'?"
"Yes I am."
"What?" Daryl played dumb.
"You're getting a little rank."
"That never killed nobody. Once when I hunting I didn't shower for six days."
"You're not hunting right now."
Or anytime soon Daryl thought and he'd bet that Carol was also thinking it.
"If you need help getting your shirt off - " she offered.
"No need 'cause it ain't coming off."
"So you're not going to bathe for six weeks," Carol gave him a skeptical look.
"That's tha plan,"
Carol gave up and left him to his devices.
Damn that woman, a shower was now all he could think about. It would kill some time. So he went up to one of the three rooms that he ever went into in the house.
Daryl held his arm up in the same position in the shower.
What if it doesn't heal right? He kept looking at it.
Getting his shirt back on was the most difficult of all the everyday things he'd done since it had to involve moving his arm. He wasn't going to risk maiming it forever because he was too stubborn to ask for help.
Daryl stood with the door cracked open for thirty seconds before he had the courage to call Carol.
She came up, was happy to see he had cleaned up, and very gently, helped him loop his left arm through the sleeve hole and then she buttoned it up for him.
"How about I give this a quick wash?" She picked up his sling.
Daryl nodded. Now that he was clean, he could smell the potent B.O on the cheesecloth. If that was anything to go off of, Carol was being nice when she had said 'pretty rank'. He had forgotten that showering was more for the benefit of others.
He followed on her heels into the second room he was ever in, the kitchen. The white bubbles jumping out of the sink as Carol scrubbed the cheese cloth reminded him of her daughter.
"How's Sophia doing?"
Carol didn't get the chance to answer as Lori came in.
"Looks like I owe five dollars," said Lori. "Doesn't that feel better?"
"Yeah, hot water was all it took to mend the bone," Daryl said sarcastically and snarly.
Lori and Carol both scrunched up their brows.
Do you have to be an incredible ass hat? He asked himself.
"Sorry, I haven't taken a shit in three days, my guts are killing me, guess I'm getting cranky."
The two housewives exchanged some sort of look that clearly said something to each other but evaded him. Daryl was about to apologize for sharing too much information with them.
"Well is that all it is? Why didn't you say so?" said Carol.
"When you go out a week without taking a crap, you can come crying to me," Lori said.
"Um?" That was not the reaction he was expecting.
"When I was pregnant with Carl, I was so bunged up, I thought I was gonna explode before I had him," explained Lori. "My obstetrician told me when I was on toilet to sit with my feet up on a stepper, don't know if it helped but won't hurt."
"I was the same with Sophia. I don't think I ever prayed to poop before," laughed Carol. "A tip I picked up was to squeeze a pillow to your belly."
"You two could write a book. How to take a crap by Carol and Lori."
For the next ninety seconds no one could talk or breathe.
"There needs to be a book on what really happens when you're pregnant," said Lori. "They make it look all cute on TV."
Daryl got the quick and dirty lowdown on what happens to you during pregnancy. It was really tiring, and your feet got huge along with everything else.
"Here I was worried I was gonna gross y'all out," Daryl piped up when they started to talk about hemorrhoids.
"We're mothers, it's gonna take a lot more than that," laughed Carol.
That was the moment Daryl's perspective on woman would be forever split into two categories, mothers and women without children.
"And back to your problem,"
Carol left the kitchen and came back in with small bottle of clear liquid that read
mineral oil in blue.
"It's not as good as milk of magnesia but it'll do the trick." She gave it to him. "Take a shot of this before bed, you can put it in milk if you like, and you'll be right as rain."
Carol patted his good shoulder. Even though he still wasn't in a great mood and was what you might call touch aversive in general. He didn't mind so much.
"If it don't work, have Hershel take me out behind the barn and shoot me 'tween the eyes. I'm useless anyways."
Author's Note.
And after all that I end on the subject of constipation.
I hope I made you laugh a little. You all deserve too since you made me smile; war90, Jack And Honey, DarylDixon'sLover, HGRHfan35, ladyh77, I luv ewansmile, Chemical Ghost, Emberka-2012, N3v34m0r311949, SilberWolf84, BanannaFlvdSnow, Surplus Imagination, and h8erade.
A memo about brands; Funions are like popcorn twists but garlic-y and are circular and they are in America because they were on the American show, The Killing. If you don't have the Heinz or No Name brand beans in the States, or anything else I mention from here on out, rest assured I don't care. (Uncouth but it takes me long enough to write without inane fact checking)
Next Time on DARK HORSE: Sophia finds a place of solitude and something even more.