𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖊𝖘 ⚜ 𝑅.𝑀

𝓽𝔀𝓸

"Momma it's Ren! He's here!" The voice of his younger cousin rung out as he smiled to himself.

Ren dropped his bags and crouched down as his younger cousins ran into his arms.

"Hey girls! How you doing?" His aunt and uncle smiling as they approached him. "You guys are huge! Get off of me! Attack of the cousins!"

"Who'd you find, Amy?" His aunt says holding her arms out to the boy. He greets her as he spots his uncle.

"Hey, boy."

"Wesley." Ren acknowledges as he shakes Wesley's hand.

"You used to call me Uncky Wes. You too big in the britches for that now?" Wesley taunts. His wife shakes her head before asking about lunch. Shortly after they make their into the house to eat.

As they sit by the table they chat about Grandma Esther and her recipes. A short while after Wesley takes Ren into his office to speak to him and show him around.

"This used to be my office, but Lulu fixed her up for you. It's got all the essentials..water,power,bed." Ren looks to the floor.

"Look, I appreciate what you've done here. Taking me in and all. There, at the end, the money you sent us... it really helped." Ren says, thankful for the financial help.

"I wish I could have done more." Wesley says giving Ren a supportive look. "Now, look.. there's rules in my house. They're not written down, they're just common sense. Do your schoolwork. Don't stay out late, that's not just my rule, that's the law. And don't give people attitude. This ain't Boston." Wesley says, wearing a pointed look.

"I really want to pull my own weight around here... Cooking meals, getting work, helping out." Ren says. Wesley nods in response

"My buddy, Andy Beamis runs a cotton gin up on Chulahoma. He said you can start in the middle of next week." Ren nods, internally dreading the job opportunity.

"Couldn't I work at the car lot with you?" Ren questions. "I'm good with engines, oil changes. That's how I made money back home." Ren tries to reason.

"In this economy, that's the best I got. I suggest you learn to love it. Come on." Ren huff and follows him.

"How am I supposed to get to work and school? You got subways out here in Mayberry?" Ren questions as Wesley chuckles 

"There's that Yankee sarcasm I've been hearing about. Wish it were funnier. Ok. You say you're good with engines? I'll make you a deal." Ren looks to his uncle. "If you can get this baby running, she's all yours." Wesley jerks a cover off the yellow bug. Ren cringes at the unveiled car.

"This?" Wesley looks him dead in the eye.

"That's a bad-ass car, boy." Ren nods and attempts to open one of the doors, but it doesn't budge.

"OK, OK. The door sticks. And the gas pedals missing. A couple of the, uh... Hey, it's a fixer-upper" Wesley rambles. Ren nods in agreement.

After a little while of Ren replacing and repairing parts of the yellow bug he gets the car started up and running. He takes it out for a joy ride. His cousins yell and cheer on as he drives past them and takes off down the road, his radio blaring. He tears down the roads enjoying himself until he heard a siren behind him. He curses to himself before pulling over.

An officer emerges from the car. "Step out of your vehicle, son" He hears the officer instruct. Ren steps out of the car before turning towards the officer reading the name tag that read 'Jamison'.

"Is there a problem, officer?" Ren asks as he leans on his car.

"Driver's license." The officer demands. Ren grabs his license and hands it to the officer. "Massachusetts, huh?" Ren nods in response. "You got that music cranked pretty loud, Mr McCormack." Ren rolls his eyes.

"You gonna throw me in jail for playing Quiet Riot?" The officer gives him a pointed look.

"Let's watch that attitude, son."

"Yankee sarcasm." Ren grumbles.

"What was that?"

"Nothing officer Jamison, sir." The officer looks up at him before continuing.

"You'll have to appear in court."

"For what?" Ren asks.

"Disturbing the peace." The officer says before handing him a ticket. "Peaceful out here, isn't it?" Ren frowns before getting in his yellow bug heading back towards home.