The Dedd House

CHAPT ER 1 An obese man sat next to me on the plane. He said they made him buy two tickets, and it was unfair. The arm rest beside me had to remain up because it was digging into his side. He had to use a seat belt extension. He was excited to be going to Memphis for the first time, to see Graceland and Beale Street. “You from there?” he asked. His halitosis was overpowering, and he must not have showered for a few days. I looked out the window. “Yes, I grew up near there.” “Where?” “Tunica, Mississippi.” He was still adjusting himself to get comfy, bumping into me. “Oh, I want to go there too. I hear the casinos pay great.” I took shallow breaths through my mouth. “Yep.” I opened the air nozzle and pointed it toward him, hoping to clear the stench. No luck. Thank God we departed on time. CHAPT ER 2 I tried to sleep, but he wouldn’t shut up. They served pretzels and Coke. His tray table was jammed against his belly. I gave him my pretzels, hoping to get a reprieve from his incessant chattering. He chewed with his mouth open, and kept talking. A speck of chewed pretzel shot from his mouth and landed in my full cup of Coke. I was certain he saw it, but he just kept gobbling those pretzels, slurping the Coke and talking. “That’s a cool tattoo on your forearm,” he said, tapping it with his index finger. I unwittingly jerked away, but he didn’t seem to mind. He reminded me of the chubby kid from the movie Bad Santa, all grown up, still fixing sandwiches. “You in the Navy?” he asked. “Mmm-hmm,” I nodded. “You a Captain or something? My uncle was a Captain. Although you look too young to be a Captain. You look like you’re in good shape though. Almost in good a shape as me!” His booming laugh filled the cabin. I didn’t want to encourage him, but I couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “That fat guy stinks!” shouted a little boy in front of us. “Shush. Don’t be rude,” said the lady beside him. I felt embarrassed for my seat mate. He finished the pretzels and asked if I was going to drink my Coke. “No, you can have it,” I said. “Tell me friend, what do you do in the Navy?” I pulled my T-shirt collar over my nose to avoid the halitosis, pretending to wipe off something. “I’m a fighter pilot.” “No way! Thanks for your service, man!” “No problem.” He chugged my Coke, giving me a chance to catch my breath. But not for long. “How long you been in the Navy?” I did the T-shirt thing again. “I just got out of flight school in Pensacola.” “You got an assignment yet?” “Yes, but if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” His laugh filled the cabin again. A white drop of his spittle landed on my arm. “Sorry about that,” he said. I wiped it off with a tiny napkin. “No worries.” The flight attendant collected our garbage. She looked at me. “Would you like something else, sir?” She must have seen him take mine. I smiled. “No thanks. I’m full.” She winked at me and walked on. He tapped my leg. “I bet you get a lot of chicks.” “I’m married.” He elbowed my ribs, snickering. “Yeah, but that doesn’t plug any holes, right?” I heard a female behind us mumble, “Oh my God.” T-shirt maneuver. “My wife is my soulmate.” “Nice. What’s her name?” “Jennifer.” “Where’d you meet?” “Ole Miss.” “Go Rebels!” “Mmm-hmm.” “You got any kids?” “One on the way. A little boy.” “Very nice. Pick out any names yet?” I looked out the window. “No names yet.” I lied. “What’s your name?” “Danny.” “Danny what?” “Danny Dedd.” His questioning was so rapid I felt like I was in an episode of Dragnet, which my dad made me watch with him in my pre-teen years. Joe Friday had nothing on this guy. “That’s a cool last name. Like, as in ‘you’re dead’?” He made a cutthroat sign. “No, spelled D-E-D-D.” “I bet you have a cool call sign, like ‘Killer’ or ‘Grave Digger.” “No, it’s Zombie.” “Awesome. By the way, I’m Chuck. Chuck Timblin.” He wanted to shake my hand, but I had just seen him pick his nose. I held up my fist instead. “I’m a fist bumper, Chuck. No offense.” “Blow it up, Danny!” I was reluctant, but I did it anyway. I told him I was going to take a nap. “Sure thing. Don’t let me keep you up, soldier.” I dreamt about Jennifer. We were in The Grove at Ole Miss, making out. I woke up an hour later and realized I had a boner. I adjusted and rubbed my eyes. “Hey, Danny, is that the Mississippi River down there?” “Yep.” He leaned across me to get a closer look. His ear was full of wax and there were white specks in his greasy hair. I fought off a gag reflex. “I can’t wait to see Graceland. You ever been there?” “Yep.” “What’s that?” he said, pointing. “I can’t see anything.” “Right there. Hey, that’s downtown, right? What’s that big shiny pyramid-looking thing?” “You’ll have to lean back for me to see out the window.” “Sorry, man. Right down there. What’s that?” “That’s the Pyramid.” He tapped my leg again. “You’re joking, right?” “Nope.” “I’d like to see that too. What’s in it?” T-shirt maneuver. “Nothing.” “Really? Nothing?” “Nothing.” I was happy when a man behind us spoke up. “The Grizzlies used to play there, and then they built the FedEx Forum. It’s been empty for a long time. Rumor has it, Bass Pro Shops might buy it.” Chuck turned his head as far as he could, “Thank you, sir. You from Memphis?” “My whole life,” said the man. The pilot made an announcement to prepare the cabin for landing. Thank you, Jesus.