“Look at Junior. Calling me spineless behind my back,” Cal said, icing his knuckles. “I have three spines right here.”

What can I say, Simmons City is a company town, Cal groused tom himself. Junior has to accept that and quit running his mouth. My wife, Wendy, wanted to say something but she looked at my bruised fists and backed away. Cal couldn’t wait till their marriage contract was up in three months. He was shipping her back to wherever she came from.

Company towns always had more pawns shops and payday loan outfits than churches or supermarkets. The worker citizens slaved for room and board; while the corporate army earned their keep keeping the ramble at bay. Everybody gotta eat. Junior has to understand the way things are. Cal was just a rag and bone man. Well more of a bone and bone man.

Theirs was a family business. Cal’s dad started with a cadaver and a dream. When a serviceman needed a repair, Cal Wagner & Son offered parts at an affordable price. Some day all of this will be Junior’s. In fact it already was his for tax purposes. But not if his son wants to keep sprouting off about corporate oligarchies and the honor of the common blah blah blah.

His suppliers are past caring or really motivated to sell. If not Wagner’s they would just go to one of the big tissue wholesalers, like WalBody or Arms R Us. Cal was besides himself when he saw his own flesh and blood speaking at the rally. He dragged him from the square and taught him a bloody lesson.

It worked. Junior came home with his tail between his legs. His boy helped Wendy around the shop. Instead of his usual being a pest, Junior was attentive and respectful. The son he always wanted to, a chip off the old block.

Junior was seeing the old lady off to one the shuttle. Good riddance to bad rubbish. When the fancy suits walked into his shop, Cal could tell they were bigwig wholesalers nosing around.

“No dice fellas. Unless your holding a briefcase of femurs you got no business here.”

Looking down her nose, the poindexter in the pencil skirt gave him a confused expression.

“Our business is colluded. And we are not retaining the current staff,” she said. “Victor call security and start the inventory. Everything will have to be fumigated.”

“What?” Cal stammered.

The other suit turned his tablet to face Cal.

“Escrow went through yesterday. Cal Wagner, sole owner, clever lad by all accounts.”