Wildcat

Harold, the GM vice-president, didn’t know anything about the pictures of him getting a blowjob in the backseat of a Cadillac. Hell, he didn’t even remember that he got a blowjob. What he did know was that some hillbilly fuck in Cranston got him drunk and sick and in the dog house with his wife for being drunk and sick. It had only taken a phone call to Detroit and less than 24 hours to get the necessary paperwork through human resources, which, in the GM hierarchy, trumped all other sectors of the company. So the orders to fire came down through the local personnel director, who had to catch the first plane from Miami Beach to come back here and take care of the dirty work.

  Big Bill, accompanied by four other security guards, limped his way down to the committeemen’s office, a ramshackle, smoke-filled, little room to which committeemen retreated when not answering calls or fighting with management. By the time he got there, he was in such pain and bad humor that he kicked the door into the office and smacked El Stinko, the production committeeman, into the wall. Clyde, El Stinko’s real name, had Big Bill by the throat before he could even think what had happened. The sight of the four other guards caused the rest of the committeemen to pull Clyde off of Big Bill.

  Then Bill stepped importantly into the middle of the room. “I get to fire a few of you badass motherfuckers here today…Milt Jeffers,” he said and glanced around to find Milt looking on, incredulous, from the corner of the office under the picture of Walter Reuther at the Overpass. He handed Milt his copy of the official document. “Crazy Jack,” Big Bill announced next and looked around. Jack was not there but on the shop floor, tending to business like he usually was. “Bobby Batch,” Milt said, and handed a slip to the local union president.

  Milt was on his feet by this time. “What the fuck is this?” he demanded.

  Big Bill looked him in the eye. “You’re fired, dumbfuck.”

  “Come on, boys,” Milt hollered, brushing past Big Bill and his guards. “We’re going to shut her down again!” They all scattered in different directions into the plant to begin another wildcat. “You motherfuckers are fired,” Big Bill yelled at the men as they ran in all directions. “Come back here!”

  Chapter 7

  War Dead