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    Refugium
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Undertaker's Devil - 8. Lessons

A welcome bit of education, and a not-particularly-welcome one.

“Samael, time for school.”

“What?” Samael appeared at the door and brushed some sawdust from his shirt.

“Time to learn to read. Now you say you know how to write your name?”

“Yessir. Andy.”

“Show me.” Ritter held out a pencil and gestured for Samael to sit at the desk. Samael sat and laboriously wrote SAMAEL on the blank paper before him. “Very good. Do you know what the letters are?”

“I started learning letters once but I had to stop lessons. I remember some.”

“All right. This first one in your name is S. You can remember it because it’s shaped like a snake. It makes the sound sss, just like a snake.”

Samael grinned and drew an S-shaped snake complete with forked tongue and patterned skin.

“Good. I see you can draw.”

“A little bit.”

“Well, maybe we can think of all the letters as little drawings and that will make them easier to remember.” Ritter took a second pencil and drew a circle on the paper. “Now this is an O. You can remember it because that’s the shape your lips make when you say O.”

Samael drew an O and said “O.” Ritter dragged his gaze away from Samael’s lips and back to the paper. “And if you put S and O together you get the word SO.” Samael’s eyebrows knitted as he wrote SO.

“And this is the letter N. It makes the sound nnn. You put it with O and you get the word NO.” Samael copied it. “And this is the letter G. It mostly makes the sound guh, like in goat. And the letter G has a little beard like a goat.” Samael copied the G, then drew in the goat’s mouth, eyes and horns. “Put it together with O and you have the word GO.”

Samael copied it. “Oh, this is so much easier than when I tried to learn before. There’s three words I can write already.”

“Yes, that gives you a taste of how it works. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go through the alphabet. Now there will be two versions of each letter, capital and small.”

Samael laid his head on the desk and groaned. “Why do they have to make it so complicated?”

“Oh, it’s not so bad. You can recognize a dog whether it’s standing up or lying down, can’t you? It will be like every letter can be standing up or lying down, or facing front and seen from the side. The first letter is A, like this.” Ritter drew a capital A. “Easy for me, it’s the first letter of Andy.”

Samael copied the A. “Here’s Andy standing with his legs apart.” He filled in arms and a head on his A.

“And here’s the small a.” Ritter wrote it.

“Well, there you are sitting down, slumped over your pot belly.”

“Hey!”

“What? I think your pot belly is cute.”

Oh, this boy is dangerous. “Let’s go on to letter B. Here’s a capital B, and here’s a small b.”

“Oh, that’s Andy’s big balls, from overhead, and the little b is a side view with his johnson standing straight up and balls at the bottom.”

Ritter flushed and said, “I’d better do the next one. This is C, and little c looks just like it but smaller. You know how we said G has a beard like a goat? C is like a cow, no beard.”

Samael sketched a cow’s face in the C. “And what does it sound like?”

“Well, usually like the start of ‘cow,’ but it depends on what letter comes after it.”

Samael stared at Ritter. “You’ve got to be joshing me.”

“No, I’m afraid I’m not. Letters can make more than one sound, just like a dog that barks sometimes and whines other times and growls on occasion.”

Samael shook his head. “All right, all right, we’ll get to that later. What’s next?”

“Next is D like a door, and small d like a half door, hinged on the other side.” Samael dutifully copied, then added doorknobs. “Next is E. Capital E like this, small e like this. It’s like in the end of your name, sama-el. Or — elbow.”

As he copied the letters, Samael said, “Andy's lying on the bed, arms out, elbows bent, and I’m watching from his left side. And in the small e he has one hand touching his head.”

“This is the word bed, b-e-d.” Ritter wrote it. “The up-and-down part of the b makes the headboard, and the up-and-down part of the d makes the foot of the bed. So, Sammy, if you ever have trouble remembering which letter is little b and which is little d, just picture the word bed. And now here’s big F and little f.”

“Fingers on the end of Andy’s hand. And the little f shows how his fingers curl when Sammy is sucking his cock.”

Ritter cleared his throat. “Next is G, which we did earlier. Small g has a longer beard.”

Samael personalized the two G’s. “Two horny billy goats. I mean, billy goats with horns.”

“H is two uprights with a bar between. And little h keeps only one upright. Sounds like huh.

“Like hip. The two sides of Andy’s body, and a bar at his hip. And little h is a side view with Andy’s cute butt sticking out.”

“I think you may be confusing me with someone else. Now capital I is one upright, little i has a dot over it. Sounds like the beginning of in.”

“Little i is a trail leading up to Andy’s innie.” Samael reached over, untucked Ritter’s shirt, and licked his stomach from low up to the navel.

“You are trying to distract me. Big J is like I with a curve, and little j is like little i with a long curve below it. Sounds like—“

“Andy’s johnson, so long it has to curve around to fit.” Samael ran his finger along Ritter’s cock.

“Moving along, big K is like this, little k like this. K sounds like—“

“Kiss, an upright for Andy’s cock and then two lips coming over to meet it.” Samael kissed Andy’s cock through his trousers.

“Big L and little l, like—“

“Andy’s leg, with and without the foot.” Samael ran his hand down Ritter’s leg.

“Capital M and little m, sounds like mmm, like the start of mountains.”

“Or mustache,” Samael said, standing and tracing the top of Ritter’s mustache with his tongue. “Up from the side, down toward the middle, up again, and down the other side.”

“All right, what do you make of big N and little n?”

“Andy’s nose, that I lick up one side, down to the other side, and up again. Or little n, down, and up and down. Can’t decide which I like better.”

“Well, now, we covered O already. Big P, like this, and little p, same but lower?”

“Pisspot pouring out a stream of piss.”

“And so ends the romance. All right, smartypants, here’s big Q, and here’s little q, as in quilt.”

“Someone sewing a quilt in a hoop, and there’s the thread hanging out, little q has the needle.”

“And capital R and little r, as in —“

“Andy’s rod. Fishing rod, of course.”

“Naturally. What else would it be? S is one you know. Capital T is Sammy’s tongue, below the row of his teeth, and little t has the tip of his pink little tongue sticking out when he’s thinking about something. Next is U, sounds like under.”

“Must be the big bulge in Andy’s underpants, holding up his big tallywhacker.”

“Flatterer. And V is for vest, how the sides come down from the shoulders and meet in a point. And W looks like this, sounds like in waist—”

“Like the bottom of Andy’s weskit, a view I see all the time. Goes down and up on one side and then down and up on the other.”

“And X—”

“For that big ox Andy, all spread out on the bed with his arms and legs stretched to the corners, taking up all the room.”

“Big ox, eh?”

“Handsomest big ox I know.” Samael moved in for a kiss.

“Y is for yes,” Ritter said, reaching around Samael to draw it.

“Andy and Sammy, joined together from the waist down, Andy bending backwards and Sammy bending forwards, when Andy says yes.”

“Fortunately, we’re almost done. Last one is Z, as in—”

“Zigzag,” Samael said, lifting Ritter’s shirt and tracing a Z on the hairy chest with his tongue.

“I’ll never think of the alphabet in quite the same way again,” Ritter said.

“I think you’re my favorite schoolteacher.” Samael’s voice was muffled as he pushed his face against Ritter’s trousers and began unbuttoning.

You’re not the only one getting an education, Ritter thought.

********

On the first of December, Ritter was sitting in the front display room with Samael, slowly guiding him through reading the newspaper, when the door opened and in walked Wyatt Earp. Ritter had of course heard that the hearing was over and the judge had found no basis for criminal charges against the Earps, though he called Virgil’s decision to bring so many armed men against the Clantons injudicious and censurable.

“Morning, Mister Earp,” Ritter said cautiously as he stood. “What brings you here, sir?”

“Oh, I just thought I’d pay a visit to where those lowlife rustlers were displayed so handsomely.” Earp’s smooth voice betrayed no emotion. “Am I addressing Mister Ritter?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“And you’re the one who placed the sign by their bodies, the one reading ‘Murdered in the Streets of Tombstone’?”

Ritter had wondered if this day would come. “Yes, sir, I did place that sign there.”

A hint of a smile twisted Earp’s lip. “Don’t be alarmed. I bear no ill-will over it. Feelings were riding high that day and more than a few regrettable actions occurred.”

“I’m pretty sure I would do the same today,” Ritter replied.

Earp raised an eyebrow. “You’re entitled to your opinion, of course. Your mistaken opinion. And what’s your opinion, young feller?” He addressed this last to Samael.

“I wasn’t there,” Samael said quietly.

“I think I’ve seen you before.”

Samael avoided looking directly at Earp. “I’ve lived in this town for a while.”

Turning his full attention on Samael, Earp smiled like a big cat eyeing its prey. “Yes. I have seen you before. With Billy Clanton.”

Samael said nothing.

“Haven’t I, boy?”

Ritter stepped closer to Earp. “Do you have some quarrel with my employee?”

Samael stood and pulled Ritter back. “I worked for Ike Clanton, Mister Earp. I work for Mister Ritter and his partner Mister Ream now.”

“Do you. And what was your name again?”

Sam drew an unsteady breath. “Sam Higgins.”

“Sam Higgins.” Earp turned his attention to Ritter. “And did you know that this young man worked for Ike Clanton?”

“I did,” Ritter said. “Ike fired him for no reason, and I offered him a job. His work has been entirely satisfactory.”

“Glad to hear it. Of course it’s not for me to advise you on how to run your business, but if it was me, I’d be a little more cautious in who I hired.”

“How fortunate for me that it’s not for you to advise on how I run my business.”

“Well, Mister Ritter, I take the long view.” Earp sat down, took out a cigar, and lit it, after biting off the end and spitting it on the floor. “Right now, I’m sure it looks like I narrowly avoided being tried for murder. And that would be accurate. But I’m looking to the future, when all this will be – history. And the facts that go into history are like a sculptor’s clay. A lot of them end up carved away in the process, tossed to the floor, swept up and thrown out with the trash. A lot of them look a lot different when the work of art is finished.” Earp took a puff of his cigar before continuing.

“I intend to be the sculptor, Mister Ritter. They say that history is written by the victors. More to the point, it’s written by the survivors. I intend to outlive everyone else involved in this whole affair. In the end, people may or may not remember your little sign beside a few dead men in your window. But they will remember me as a hero.”

Ritter snorted.

Earp paused, holding his cigar still. “You might want to think about ending up on the wrong side of history. You might want to consider how fickle the good opinion of the crowd can be. They can turn on you. Public opinion is a thing that must be molded and maintained. You might find it best to keep to the winning side.” Earp drew once more on his cigar.

“All this molding of the mind of the public must require a great deal of effort on your part,” Ritter said.

“A great deal, indeed, when you add it all up. But a little bit at a time will suffice. Over the years, a little effort here and there will make a great difference. Like a bullet in flight that even a slight breeze can deflect over a long trajectory.”

“I have no ambitions to go down in history,” Ritter said. “I’ll leave that to you.”

“At any rate,” Earp continued, “you’re a good, law-abiding citizen, I’m sure. And now that Judge Spicer has handed down his decision, you’ll respect it. I’m sure you’ll find no cause for rash talk about murder.”

“Oh, I won’t speak rashly, of course,” Ritter said.

“Good. Then we understand one another.” Earp rose to his feet. “Good day to you, Mister Ritter. And to you, Sam Higgins. No need to show me to the door. I’ll let myself out.” His smile was cold. “No further need for a lawyer to let me out. Good day, gentlemen.” He left.

Samael was agitated. “I don’t like that man, Andy.”

“I don’t much care for him myself.”

“There’s something wrong with him. Billy was never afraid because his blood ran so hot. But Mister Wyatt Earp, he’s just like ice. There’s something missing in him. Something in his soul. I’ve heard he’s not afraid of anything. It’s not that he’s so brave. It’s that his soul is missing some parts.”

Ritter squeezed Samael’s arm. “Sammy, try not to worry about him too much. Charges have been dismissed. The whole thing will blow over and be forgotten very soon.”

“I’m afraid of him. Why was he so particular to get my name? He’s going to talk to Ike. And Ike don’t like me. You never know what Ike’s gonna do. He could decide that all the bad things that happened to him are my fault. And then he could come for me. It wouldn’t take much to push him that direction.”

“Sammy, are you afraid that Ike might try to kill you?”

“He’s a loose board waiting to drop on somebody’s head. Yes, I am afraid he might try to kill me. And maybe you while he’s at it.”

“Sammy, I won’t have you living afraid. Trust me, in a few years, no one will remember that gunfight. There’s no more threat to you from Ike or Wyatt or anyone else than from a feather on the breeze. Now we are going out to lunch, and we will feast on beef and mashed potatoes and gravy and the biggest slice of chocolate cake you ever saw in your life, and we will be as happy as pigs that broke into a corncrib, and we will not be afraid. All right?”

Samael was still shaking a little. “All right.” He passed a hand over his face. “Can we go to your office and kiss for a minute before we go?”

"We surely can." Ritter caught him up in a tight hug. “I love you, and I will not let any harm come to you."

Across the street, Ike Clanton happened to be passing and noticed Wyatt Earp leaving the shop. He stopped and peered into the big window that was the front of Ritter & Ream, Undertakers.

Next: Art Among the Caskets
Copyright © 2023 Refugium; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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