C4 antho - Chamber Four

Eupcaccia ~29~
carving ruts through poultry, printing, qigong and whatever
else followed the letters P-L in the big yellow book. But no.
What really battered Malchicken’s drummettes, what really
dusted his marbles, was that his mother didn’t think the selfleveling
camera was worth paying for.
Sure she’d open up the coffers for the extra pressure, the
repeat thrusts and sleek flow-through mechanisms, but when
they asked if she wanted to capture the underground tunnel
on videotape she told them she had seen enough crap.
“What’s to see anyway?” she’d ask. “Just get that can moving.”
Unlike Mal, she didn’t care to see if what was coming in
was going out.
One evening while his mother had gone to her room to
freshen up, Mal asked a sour-mouthed plumber whether he
had ever used one of the little sewer cameras. Without answering
he demanded, with short tommy-gun exhalations, to
know who told him to ask. When Mal didn’t say anything the
plumber grabbed Mal by the back of his neck and demanded
to know where Pop Chicken was.
“I know about these things, and whoa, just tell me if I’m
gonna have to get my fists ready.”
“?”
“Whoa. Watch me.”
“...” Mal shook his head.
“If your old man comes through that door tonight, watch
me if I don’t knock him flat.”
“...”
“I’m not going to play no tool.”
“He’s not,” Mal muttered, squirming.
“If he does tonight, I’ll do him.”
“Not coming.”