Sally Down South

There comes a time in every boy's life when he must leave his home to train monsters. It is a natural sort of thing, not preplanned or accounted for — a boy just knows when he has to go. His parents typically do not, but he does. He knows it like he knows the sky is blue or like he knows that school is for suckers. It just springs up one day and smacks him on the head like a board, and then he knows it.

And it was springing up on Lug right now.

Sunny day, no clouds to speak of. A cool morning breeze blowing in from the east, carrying the scent of summer, fresher than fish on a line. Trickling creek and tinkling wind chimes on the porch, Pa snoring and his rocking chair creaking like a door opening and closing. Everything was nice, perfect like a picture. He might have stayed home another few weeks if it weren't for the scene above him.

Lug stared up at it in wonder. A whopping green monster was flying low through the air, wings as long as trees, body like a snake. Six clawed arms hung loosely from it, as did a long tail forking into two black arrowheads at its end. Atop its maned, long-beaked head, a figure could be seen — a man holding onto curved horns that were as big as he was. His cape fluttered in the wind behind him, giving him the look of a storybook hero off on some daring adventure.

"Well, this ain't gonna do," Lug muttered. "Just ain't. Need me one of them monsters right now. Need a cape, too."

And the decision had been made, sealed, stamped, and sent in the very quick, nearly instant fashion that was peculiar to children. Lug was going to become a monster trainer today, and he possessed not even the most miniscule trace of doubt about it.

"Where you figger he's going?" asked Stump. The messy-haired, one-armed boy stood next to him, looking up at the monster with eyes opened wider than windows in the summertime.

"Sally, I bet."

"I bet too."

The boys watched the flapping monster and its caped rider until they flew out of sight, then Lug started for his house.

"Where you off to?" Stump asked. "We was going to play by the crick, I thought. Look, I brought worms and a mallet." He held the aforementioned items in his good hand — that is, to say, in his only hand.

Lug shook his head. "I'm going to Sally. Gonna start being a monster trainer."

"You can't. We got school tomorrow."

"Monster trainers don't go to school, Stump. Don't you know nothing?"

"I'll be one too, then."

"Go get your stuff, then. Meet you by Jack's house."

Stump ran off and Lug slinked inside of the house to get ready. Pa's daily nap was always two hours long, sure as sunrise in the morning, and Ma would be busy picking and plucking in the garden for a while longer, so Lug knew he had time to gather his things.

Straw hat, food for a few days, nearly holeless boots and socks and a spare shirt still damp from the creek, handful of string and buttons, fishing line and hooks and some worms. Lug felt pleased with his supplies; they seemed to consist of everything a boy going on an adventure might need. He wrapped them all in sackcloth and found a sturdy stick to form a bindle with. Then he found a handsomer stick to serve as a staff. Every adventurer needed a staff, after all.

He left quickly after he prepared his things and went down the dirt path that led into town. A group of raggedy boys playing in a puddle looked at him with reverence, knowing from his bindle, staff, and hat that he was off on some grand adventure; a few even saluted him.

Stump was waiting by the fence of Jack's house, looking very nervous. He had a bindle of his own propped on his best shoulder, though it only looked half as full as Lug's.

"What'd you bring?" Lug asked.

"Jam and bread and a pair of socks."

"That's good." Lug looked around with squinted eyes. "Thought Jack would be around here, but I don't see him. Was hoping he might want to come with us."

Jack's mom came out of her house and walked over to them, hands on her hips and a testy look on her pretty face. Behind her, peering through the window of the house, was Jack who was making some gestures at them.

"And where are you two boys going?"

"Library."

"Sally."

The boys looked at each other. Lug's eyes were narrowed and Stump's eyes were filled with the appropriate amount of shame for having divulged their secret.

"Sally, then? That's awful far, boys — fifteen miles south of here. You got a buggy and some hayhooves hidden somewhere I can't see?"

Lug shook his head. "He was just playing, Miss Lucy, I swear it. We're going to the library to study up on stuff, get some books and the like. Just swung by here to see if Jack would go with us."

"Now don't you lie to me, Lugger Flenigan. And you neither, Miller. Don't neither of you lie, or I'll go get my paddle. I see those sacks there on your shoulders clear as spring water. You two trying to go to Sally?"

"No, ma'am, we sure ain't. We just thought we'd — " Lug stopped and looked at Stump. "Beat it, Stump!"

The boys ran off from the hollering Miss Lucy, gunning it down the street like wild pudcoons caught digging in a trashcan, boots kicking up clouds of dirt. They rounded the corner and kept going, making it to the end of town before they stopped.

"We're gonna get paddled good when we come back, Lug," Stump said between heavy breaths.

"Well, we ain't coming back, Stump. We'll be going up mountains and sailing over seas before long. Monster trainers don't stay in one place or go to school or nothing like that. Now come on, we gotta go."

"What about Jack? Didn't you see him in the window, flinging his hands up and all that?"

"Probably got in trouble for breaking Miss Dilly's fence yesterday. He threw Jimmy Fish-face on it while they was roughhousing, sent him right through the pickets." Lug shrugged. "Can't be helped. You heard Miss Lucy — fifteen miles to Sally. We gotta go now if we want to make it there before dark."

They started down the beaten road out of Dudger, giving a nice slap to the exit sign as was the sacred and time-honored tradition. As Stump had just one arm and, by extension, just one hand, he needed Lug to hold his bindle so he could properly assault the abused piece of wood.

A good half mile down the road, they made it to the Big Turn and glanced at each other. Neither stopped moving. The Big Turn was the first turn in the road, and once someone rounded it fully, Dudger became obscured by dense woods. It was a sort of trial for boys, especially ones who had never left home. For Lug, it was a piece of cake. His delinquent exploits had taken him as far as a mile from home before, so he was an experienced adventurer.

Stump, on the other hand, seemed about ready to turn back.

"I don't know about this, Lug," he said, turning his head around to look at Dudger. "Don't feel right leaving town. What'll my ma and pa say?"

"Don't be a cluckling, you — you jam eater." Lug smiled at his own cleverness. "Just follow me. Unless you don't wanna be a monster trainer, then you can turn on around and get paddled by Miss Lucy and your Ma."

Stump shook his head. "I ain't a cluckling. Big Turn ain't nothing, really. I'm just thinking after my folks, is all."

"Sure you are."

"Am too, I swear it."

So they made the turn and officially left Dudger. They carried on for a good while, throwing rocks at trees and spying things and playing all the other juvenile games that their minds could come up with. They came to a fork in the road after a mile, and a worn sign in the middle of it told them in faded letters which road led to Sally.

After an hour of walking, they stopped and sat by the woods to take a rest. Stump began untying his sack with a dexterity uncommon to folks missing half their upper limbs. Lug untied his own sack and started eating from a jar of berries.

"Been thinking." Stump was eating some strawberry jam with his fingers. "Don't monster trainers gotta be at least sixteen, seventeen years old to get their license?"

"We're nearly that ourselves. We'll be twelve in a few months, you know. Then thirteen, fourteen, fifteen just a few years after that. Sixteen ain't but around the corner, really."

"Well, when you put it that way — "

Lug shushed him and pointed to a tree. "Pudcoon. See it?"

"Seen a thousand, ain't so special."

"Well, we're trainers now, so it is. Heard pudcoons turn real big when they get enough fuss in them. He's gonna be my first monster."

"You ain't got a cartridge to put him in."

"Don't need one. I've carried pudcoons on my shoulder before; they ain't so heavy." Lug grabbed his jar of berries and approached the monster. "Got you some berries, boy. You feel like going on adventures and fighting battles and all that?"

The pudcoon first ignored him in favor of observing an acorn, but upon seeing the berries, it quickly became enraptured. Its short nose sniffed and its sharp ears twitched. Then its fluffy tail wiggled and it reached out its stubby arms to grab the jar, expecting Lug to hand it over.

"Tell you what, pudcoon — you can have all these berries, but you've got to be my monster. Got to follow me to Sally and fight and such. I'll feed you real good if you do."

The pudcoon retracted its hands and stayed still for a moment, thinking on Lug's offer. Similar to most monsters, it was very intelligent, so it likely understood that it was being presented with a deal. Unfortunately, it was doubtful that it was intelligent enough to fully grasp the exact nature of this deal; it probably just knew that it had something to do with berries. It extended its hands toward the jar once again.

"We got a deal, then. Here, climb on my shoulder and you can eat them."

The pudcoon climbed down the tree and saddled himself on Lug's shoulder. Then, with its strong little hands, it grasped the jar of berries and began emptying it into its mouth.

"You got your first monster." Stump had a big grin on his face, looking rightfully awed by Lug's achievement. "What do you figger mine will be? Hortice, hayhoof, jinglefly, mogslug, fernbeetle — maybe a ribbitail?"

"Don't rightly know. Whatever we run into on the way, I suppose."

Stump jumped into action, tying his sack up and putting it on his stick. "We gotta go then. I want one before we get to Sally."

They carried on down the road. The pudcoon stayed true to the deal, sticking with Lug even after the berries had run dry. It seemed a little upset that it had nothing to eat, so he fed it some grapes. After it had eaten those, it still seemed upset, so he gave it an apple. And when it still had the nerve to be upset after munching the apple down to the core, Lug figured there was just no pleasing the ravenous little monster.

It was an hour of walking before Stump spotted a monster he liked. After passing up about a hundred or so perfectly good ones, Lug had come near to slapping the boy upside his head.

"That's my monster, right there. A catercram — biggest one I've seen, too," Stump said, getting out his jam.

"I've seen bigger," Lug lied, a little jealous that Stump had found such a freak of a catercram. The thing had to have been a foot long and real slimy — slimier than a normal catercram by a nice margin.

"Liar. You think it'll like jam?"

"Course it will. What creature don't like jam?"

Stump approached the catercram cautiously, though there was absolutely no need to do as much. The monster was neither dangerous nor capable of fleeing from him. He held out the jam to it with a shaky hand, reverentially like he was presenting a letter to a king.

"Hey, now. I don't suppose you'd want to be my monster, would you? I got this here jam for you if you do." He held out a hand to stop the catercram's slow approach. "Now, I got to tell you — if you take this jam, you'll have to let me train you and all that. There'll be fights and the like aplenty."

The catercram did not possess the appropriate anatomy to express any emotions, but it seemed interested in Stump's offer. It crawled up his arm and settled on his shoulder, drenching him in slime. Stump held up the jam jar for it to eat and smiled dumbly at Lug.

"Got him, Lug, got my monster. Can't hold my sack now, though, so you — " Stump's eyebrows jumped up his forehead. "Huck's in my jam!"

Sure enough, Huck — Lug had named his pudcoon Huck after confirming he was a boy — had opened one of Stump's jam jars and was digging through it with his thieving hands. Upon hearing his name, he looked up at them, furry face covered in jam, then promptly resumed feasting.

"Huck, get out of that jam. That's Stump's jam. We'll get you your own when we get to Sally, you hear?"

Huck wiped his furry face clean as best he could and went scurrying back onto Lug's shoulder. He was remarkably obedient given that he had been a wild monster just an hour ago. Lug owed it to his natural affinity for monster training.

"Sorry, Stump, he don't mean no harm by it; he's just hungry. Here, I'll put your jams and socks in my sack and carry them, free you up to feed your catercram."

The boys traveled for another few hours, playing games and talking about their plans as monster trainers to keep themselves occupied. Huck fell asleep on Lug's shoulder after eating half the food in his sack; his stomach was fuller than a tick, and he had to lay on his back to avoid rolling off. Shelby, Stump's catercram, had also eaten her fill and drifted off to sleep.

Soon, the road became stone and the forests were replaced by grassy hills. The pleasant breeze remained, blowing the seas of colorful flowers into a gentle dance and keeping the world cool under the sun's glare. Monsters frolicked and hopped and slithered and flew, too many different species to count all coexisting peacefully. A town could be seen in the distance, blowing smoke up to the heavens.

"You know where we're at, Stump?" Lug asked.

"No clue," Stump answered. "I figger that sign by the town will tell us, though."

They stopped in front of the town and read the sign. The town was called Tinny and happened to be just five miles north of Sally. Three miles east of some place called Hoover, as well, but that was of no concern to the boys.

"Five miles to go, Stump." Lug licked his finger and stuck in the air. "I thought so. With that wind, we can make it before nighttime."

"My legs are tired, Lug. I figger we could rest here for a time. Wouldn't hurt nothing." He looked down the main street of Tinny, eyeing its chimneyed brick houses and clean fences. "Looks like a nice place, too."

"You figger a lot, you know that? Resting is for dead folk. I'm heading on to Sally — stay if you want."

Lug walked away and smiled when he heard Stump's footsteps behind him. They started back off on their trek and took to singing trail songs. Then, when they got tired of that, they kicked on a can until Lug kicked it too far off to the side. After that, they started naming all the monsters they saw — primwings, staghops, jittermice, flufftuffs, jumplets, and all the others that were messing around in the tall grasses of the rising and rolling hills.

The daylight was dusky when they came to a flat, boundless expanse of green where the hills were not welcome. The great plains, unblemished by even a single bump or cut, just grass stretching toward the lowering sun — stretching for so long that the eyes were powerless to guess how great a distance it covered. It was the most impressive form of nature, besting even the highest mountains and deepest canyons with its majesty, a great canvas upon which men could erect a world of their own in wood and stone and metal.

Of course, the romance and poetry of it all was lost to Lug, who saw it as merely a backdrop to the centerpiece of his and Stump's adventure — Sally.

Sally sat just a mile down the stone road, outfitted with all the vestments of urban life — tall buildings that seemed to stab at the clouds and short ones ducking beneath them, streets wider than rivers, billboards and signs glowing like lightning was trapped inside of them. It was the antithesis of rural life, spectacular and loud, big and bold and bright. And to two boys who had grown up in wooden shacks next to a river, it was like seeing Heaven itself.

"That's Sally, then?" Stump asked. He was looking at the city with those signature eyes of his, wide open like he had been smacked stupid with a shovel.

"Reckon it is, yeah," Lug said, just as amazed as his one-armed friend.

The boys looked at each other and grinned. Then they ran toward the city, eager to flip past the prologue of their great adventure and dive into the thick of it.