Jumping Cholla

Jumping Cholla | DISPATCH By Scott Evers

Dust in here. In there. Well, maybe you ought to close the door. Numbskull. Dog's cockeyed. I'm... incapissitated.

It's on nights like this...

when the desert remembers where you live.

Walked in with half the Mojave stuffed in my ears...

and this little son of a bitch.

Jumping cholla.

Everybody out here knows about 'em.

Everybody.

Apparently...

except me tonight.

Mercy.

Got my elbow pinned to my side like I been arrested by a shrub.

Don't laugh.

Actually...

go ahead.

I would.

...

Hold on.

Need the glove.

...

[Pliers.]

Ay yai yai

Another dispatch from Scott Evers Read for you by Geezer III.

Fuck

...

Little hooks.

That's the trick.

You don't pull.

You persuade.

Whoever designed this miserable plant...

deserved a promotion.

...

Heard about a teenager once.

Didn't bother looking where he was taking a leak.

...

Nope.

Not telling that story.

You already know how it ended.

...

Neighbor's daughter.

Eight months pregnant.

Sat on one.

There just isn't a graceful way to recover from that.

...

Lisa brought one home once.

Thought it was beautiful.

Carried it like a little bouquet.

Delicate as you please.

It thanked her...

right through the finger.

Plant never did understand gratitude.

...

Ow.

...

Hell.

Need more whiskey.

Can't reach it.

Marvelous.

...

Funny thing.

Out here...

folks spend all their time worrying about rattlesnakes.

Truth is...

it's the quiet little bastards that'll rearrange your evening.

They don't chase you.

Don't threaten you.

Just wait.

...

Wind's really carrying on tonight.

House sounds like an old ship.

Sand gets through places you didn't know existed.

Tomorrow I'll be sweeping the kitchen...

and half of Arizona.

...

Thought I'd outsmart this thing.

Been at it...

I don't know...

twenty minutes.

Every time I pull one little hook...

I find another.

Whole body's changed shape.

Can't scratch my nose.

Can't reach the bottle.

Can't rightly cuss with any conviction.

...

Funny thing about pain.

It makes your whole world exactly the size of itself.

Nothing else matters.

Not politics.

Not money.

Not tomorrow.

Just...

this.

...

Hold on.

One more try.

...

[Pliers.]

...

Leather glove. Between teeth.

...

Nope.

Lost that round.

...

Well.

I believe I've officially run out of ideas.

...

Phone's over there.

Course it is.

...

—hey…

—Jamey.

—

—no.

—i'm all right.

—mostly.

—

—need another pair of hands.

—

—jumping cholla.

—

—yeah.

—one of those.

—

—bring your needle-nose pliers.

—

—take your time.

—well...

—don't take too much time.

—

—thank you, son.

...

Funny thing.

Spent most of my life thinking strength meant handling things yourself.

Maybe that's true.

Up to a point.

Then life catches hold of you in just the right place...

and all the pulling in the world only drives the hooks in deeper.

...

Some things...

are built so another pair of hands becomes part of the cure.

...

Wind's easing.

Or maybe I'm just getting used to it.

Hard to tell.

...

Rocky's looking at me like I finally proved something.

Yeah.

I know.

Should've watched where I was walking.

—No...

I know.

...

I remember.

After your mother died...

I'd walk into the grocery store...

and everybody seemed to be buying peaches.

Talking about football.

Arguing over breakfast cereal.

I'd think...

Don't you people know what just happened?

...

Course they didn't.

It hadn't happened to them.

...

Funny thing.

Pain narrows the world.

Makes everything outside of it seem... ridiculous for a while.

...

Doesn't mean the world's ridiculous.

Means you're standing somewhere different.

...

Hear that?

Who's that, Rocky?

Go get 'em.

...

[truck on the gravel]

That's him.

...

Hang on a minute.

Let's see if between the two of us...

we're any smarter than one little cactus.