Prince by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 12
It was May 18, the last day of school and appropriately, also
“Endangered Species Day.” Bursting from the school door at 3:30
was a collage of tiny people jostling each other to be the earliest one to greet the radiance of the unseasonably hot day.
Bells ringing, imaginary and real, confused the Revolution with the storming of the bastille. Sun saturated songs and screams echoed from countless mouths and directions; “No more teachers, no more books.” If the modern school system splurged for precipice gargoyles they would be cackling and trying to get into the action. If there were any onlookers they would have thought that they witnessed chaotic infinity forcing a re-consideration of church affiliations, but all there was were participants, whose only church was right in front of their faces; moving pictures shot at the highest speed and they were the stars.
Classmates hugged vowing to keep in contact and telling each other how great they were, like an Academy Award show. All they had to do was remember the names. Parental chauffeuring service cars were parked out of sight around the corner at the side of the school. Drivers heard the explosion, made wide concerned eyes at each other and thought that they must be missing something. They were. As a huddled group they moved forward, or backward
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depending on point of view and their late day shadows cast a pallor on the celebration.
The kids’ howls diminished gradually, but steadily as one celebrant after another spotted the descending chauffer brigade.
As they grudgingly recognized them, the celebrants quieted when they saw their rides waiting with taciturn expressions like after a dismal movie’s opening night. They said hurried final goodbyes, diligently walked to their waiting limo and entered, most choosing a front seat.
Suddenly it was silent and Polly stood there alone, feeling creepier than usual as a result of the short loud party’s abrupt end. For the first time she noticed the torn notepad pages being blown in the gentle breeze like post parade confetti. She saw the penciled notes taken of state populations, governors, natural resources and per capita incomes alongside doodling, circuitous artwork in the margins and at page tops and bottoms. It occurred to her that all this stuff was of such significance just yesterday and now it would go wherever the wind told it to, excepting the page remnant stuck in the impromptu vomit left by one overly excited kid.
With only the sound of the wind in her ears for distraction she walked through the bright green grass, which was now ripe for a lawnmower, to get a zoom in. The torn page furiously lifted its edges in the gusts revealing little of the reversed side, though
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Polly could see enough of the obverse to surmise that part was a blue ink, graffiti-like depiction of eggs in a jam-packed bird’s nest, safely up in a leafy tree. She didn’t want to touch the regurgitation and consequently wondered if the part she was blind to depicted predators or Mama Bird, or both. The obverse was abundantly and mind-numbingly clear, except the center where the spewing had soaked through and produced a blurring wet stain. On that spot the Gumby-like simple stick figure held its hands out to the side as if it were saying; “I don’t know” and on the ground near its feet was a fat bird, possibly an owl, under which were the words; “Be on my side. I’ll be on your side.” Polly lost track of time looking at the imperfect drawings and the mystery of the reverse side seemed to call her. She was compelled to see the whole story, or what was left of it. She scrunched her face as she put her left hand in the wetness and lifted the paper. She saw a mother bird flying back to the nest carrying twenty luscious worms. The drawings she delicately held were blown out of her hand by a strong blast and carried off the school grounds as high in the sky as an early kite takeoff, continually elevating to parts unknown, until it was out of sight. She speculated that the drawings were probably done on a day when the teacher’s preaching didn’t warrant any special note. She recalled having had that feeling herself often enough, but she never felt secure in drawing anything while having a front row seat in Ms. Dermer’s stink and
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pontification show. She vowed that next year she would do everything she knew to get a private rear seat and draw her masterpiece.
Eyes on the clear blue sky, she took a few steps to the east, where she had last seen the paper and got the sweet bejesus scared out of her when she bumped into something large. She put her right hand to her chest as she saw the motionless boy, breathed out a pound of air through her nostrils and breathlessly said;
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
The boy was about her size and she recognized him to have been also in the fifth grade, but in the other class. He pursed his lips, pretended to have to straighten his “Eagles” T-shirt and brushed back his brown, shoulder length hair. He said; “I never sneak up on anybody. I’m standing here waiting for my regular ride and you jumped all over me. What’s wrong with you anyway?”
Polly thought that she detected a playful nature in the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth and had to admit to herself that it was probably her who did bump into him. So, intending humor she decided to answer his question seriously and said; “I don’t know. I saw a picture and it kind of spaced me out.”
“What kind of drugs do you do?”
Indignant, Polly replied; “None! What kind are you on?”
He murmured; “None.” He looked at Polly, who looked away to the street, pretending to be looking for her ride and hoping it
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wasn’t there. He felt that the next entrée had to come from him and added; “I think my older brother is, though. He gets some kind of pharmaceuticals that are prescribed for my folks.”
“Don’t they know?”
He laughed and said; “I don’t think so. They’re too stoned to keep track.”
Polly started to laugh, but quickly concluded that this might be a tragedy rather than a comedy. It was hard to tell. She attempted to sort of change the subject and said; “My folks drink a lot of wine.”
“Are they alcoholic?”
She again felt indignant and said a resounding; “Of course not!” She thought; “Alcoholics are unemployed bums who live with their parents and never wash.”
He paused a bit, extended his right hand and said; “Sorry, I was trying to be funny. I’m Leonid Morfuss; Leo.”
She shook, slightly nodded and answered; “I’m Polly Thatcher.” She looked into his lightly freckled face and thought that she again saw the hint of a smile. Before he could say anything she added; “I know, Polly want a cracker. Ha. Ha. Every idiot says that and I always pretend to be amused.”
Leo indignantly said; “I wasn’t going to say that at all,”
though he was considering it.
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“Don’t lie. I know you were. Your name is pretty stupid too.”
Leo stuck his tongue way out and tried to imitate someone mentally challenged. He was successful. He said; “I know genius; I’m in the ‘stupid’ class and proud of it.”
Polly knew he was referring to the school’s method of planning classes. She had been in the “regular” fifth grade class this year and Leo had been in the “scholastically unique” one.
She had always laughed at the administrators’ attempt at to be proper and wondered how many hours they spent on the “correct”
caption, when all the kids used the words “smart” and “stupid.”
She said; “Well, I didn’t impress anyone this term, so next year I’m going to the “stupid” class.
Leo’s eyes lit up and he said; “You got Gebus?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s great. Me too. My friend told me that he’s always drunk and sometimes passes out on the desk.”
Polly laughed.
Leo excitedly added; “Yeah. When he passes out all the kids throw spitballs at him and last year one got stuck right on his eyelid. When he woke up that eye was fluttering like a swallow on the way to detox Capistrano.”
Polly started to laugh again, but caught herself before she really let go, thinking that the situation was also sad. She
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sternly looked at Leo and said; “I’m not going to be one of the spitball pitchers.”
Leo scowled and looked to his left, saying; “No sense of humor.”
“I do too have a sense of humor.”
“Well, tell me something funny then.”
Polly drew a blank.
Leo said; “See.”
Polly felt challenged and beaten. She was compelled to come up with something. She started to do a little dance, moving right to left and back again, shifting her weight from side to side.
She saw Leo grin, so she touched his nose and said; “Alphonse.”
She backed away, saw his broader smile, put an arm across her belly, bowed and said; “Gaston.”
Leo’s amusement was obvious as his face seemed to beam, though he didn’t laugh out loud. In a cheery and curious voice he said; “What’s that?”
Polly stopped moving and deadpanned; “I don’t know. My dog likes it.”
Leo wasn’t sure if he was insulted or not. He eyed Polly questioningly and behind her saw his brother’s car pull into the school driveway. His head moved from his brother’s car to Polly a few times. The horn blasted. Leo touched Polly’s hand and said;
“Where do you live?”
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“Corrales.”
Agitated, he said; “Yeah, even I know that. Where?”
Polly hesitated a second before saying; “Camino De Lucia.”
Leo’s eyes popped and he replied; “Great, me too. Which house?”
The horn bellowed and the bearded, long greasy-haired male driver yelled out; “Come on. I’ve got stuff to do.”
Leo held up his hand, but took a step toward the fugitive from Rent-A-Wreck and Polly said; “The one with the cracked bell on top.”
Leo went to the impatient junker, saying; “Great, I know it.
See ’ya.”
Polly audibly mumbled; “See ‘ya,” and watched the car drive away, wondering if she had just made her first date.
Leo turned in his seat and watched the stationary little girl alone in front of the enormous school watching the car, until a bend in the road put it out of his view.
He kept thinking of that last image while his brother babbled nervous chatter at him which required no response and while he couldn’t fathom what, it seemed that something was amiss, remiss or beyond definition.
Polly kept gazing in the direction the car had gone and for once hadn’t a thought in her head. She was taken from her dreamless sleep by the sound of a car honking. She had not heard
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the gravel being displaced by its approach and turned as if shot to see her mother sitting in the black Saab looking at her curiously. Polly said nothing and slowly walked over and got in the passenger’s seat. After exiting the driveway in silence Mom broke the ice by saying; “I thought that you’d be thrilled to have school over with.”
Polly shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but said a weak;
“Yeah, I guess,” her mind not on the subject. She peered out the side window not knowing what she was looking for. She saw a bank branch, but found its single story, square shape un-lovable, despite the three twenty foot saplings “decorating” the parking lot. The red, white and blue draped, wooly plastic banner hung over the huge glass automatically opening front door was grotesque. The stenciled sign it contained, which said; “LOWEST
RATE HOME EQUITY LOANS” did not help matters, even though she couldn’t see the fine print below it which added “to qualified borrowers.”
Mom was concerned and trying to induce a response said; “Is something bothering you?”
Polly shrugged again and kept her eyes peeled for signs of life on the main drag. She realized that her demeanor was inviting investigation, the last thing she wanted, so she attempted to deflect it with the proper response, but came up with; “No ...... Yes ...... Not really. You know, it’s like I
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couldn’t wait for school to be over, but now that it is, I feel like I’m missing something. And my stomach feels funny.”
“Do you need the bathroom?”
Polly yelled; “No.”
Considering the responses too vague for her liking an undeterred Mom ventured; “So, what did you do today?”
Polly felt that she was getting the third degree and quickly rattled off; “Smelled Ms. Dermer’s Drano, celebrated at the bell, looked at a picture and talked to some guy. All right, already?”
Mom heard at least two things she didn’t want to and quickly came back with; “What guy?”
“Oh, Mom, for God’s sake, you’re so precise. I shouldn’t have said guy. It was some kid in the other class.” She paused, then chirped; “Actually we’ll be in the same class next year and he lives somewhere on Camino De Lucia.”
Somewhat relieved, but still not fully satisfied, Mom asked;
“Did he show you some picture?”
“Oh, no. He didn’t even see it. It was torn from somebody’s discarded notebook. Birds, worms, stuff like that.”
Mom exhaled profusely and supposed that she might have an idea about Polly’s springtime malaise. She thought; “It was inevitable but came so quickly.” She asked; “What’s this boys’
name?”
“Leo Morfuss.”
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Mom didn’t know any Morfuss family on Camino De Lucia, but also didn’t know ninety percent of the families on Camino De Lucia. For some reason she thought the name sounded appropriate.
In a childish voice, she asked; “Leo, is he a little lion?”
Polly looked right at her mother and indignantly said; “Don’t talk to me like I was a little baby. I’m not a little baby.” She stamped her foot on the floor mat.
Mom silently watched the road. Polly said; “I think I need a drink.”
Mom furrowed her brow and said; “Me, too.”
As the Saab rattled the gravel Prince ran to the fence to investigate. He watched them exit the car with his tail wagging uncontrolled. He wanted Polly to see what a good boy he had been in chasing all the uninvited varmints out of the yard. Sure, there were some bugs left, but ...... And one of them had the audacity to perch itself on his ear right now! In a super quick reaction he batted it off with a hind leg. He was proud of his accuracy, but concluded that he still needed to work on the power aspect of his game, as his ear felt like someone was roasting it.
Polly and Mom walked to the fence and petted Prince through the wire mesh just because they felt like it, while Prince thought that they had noticed the absence of winged and four legged terrorists, not realizing the difficulty in noticing something that is not bodily there. To him things were much simpler; he
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couldn’t see the wind, but had no difficulty in seeing what it moved, hearing it in his super ears and detecting scents it carried. Even when it was so mild that it wasn’t registering with his other senses he could feel its touch cool his body. Right now he wished it would find his throbbing ear. Partially compensated for a long day’s work he patiently waited for the rest of the package; food and a walk.
Polly started out the day planning to celebrate the end of school with a trip into the wild of the Bosque with Prince, but now she was feeling strangely. The events of her late afternoon were nothing that she had ever previously experienced or dreamed of. She wanted to be on the safe side, so decided to take Prince for another development tour and though she tried not to admit it to herself, much less anyone else, she wouldn’t mind seeing Leo again. He seemed to be both sad and funny and she found the combination intriguing and exasperating. Her mother beside her in the kitchen she announced; “I’m going to change into old clothes.”
Mom said; “I see that my little girl has already acquired the powers of a witch. Why not change into a sleeping princess?”
Polly said; “You’re worse than Dad. Woman.”
They exchanged tongue displays and crossed eyes. Polly went to her room and donned proper, uninhibited canine ambulatory attire. She returned to the kitchen, put Prince’s food into his dish and brought it to him. Prince stuck his snout right in the
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bowl, took one bite and looked up at Polly. It was primarily vegetables with some chicken and he thought that he deserved beef for his yeoman efforts. Had he a cell phone he would have called his union representative. Polly sternly said; “Eat it,” and clasped her hands behind her head, while recalling her mother’s reasoning for getting this particular blend. “Dalmatians are prone to digestive problems with a beef diet. Prince is going to substantially be a vegetarian.” Prince reluctantly did as he was told, considering that he wanted to please Polly and the fact that there was no other choice on the menu. By the time he finished he came to appreciate that this meal took almost no hard work to consume, whereas one has to chew the devil out of beef.
Polly put on his leash and they ran outside, but Prince pulled up short in the middle of the driveway. Waiting at the end of it was a German Shepherd with a little boy in tow.
“Polly,” called out Leo with an air of surprise that had been long anticipated.
“Leo, hi. Watch out a little. This guy can be very unpredictable.” Prince was now in his semi-crouch position, slowly moving forward, eyes fixed on the Shepherd.
Leo smirked as his dog “Princess” was thirty percent larger and while not one to start fights, had handled herself well enough when attacked in the past. Princess stood her ground and made a low warning growl.
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Prince got confused. He thought; “This dog is warning me, saying that she can take care of herself, but not making any move to attack. That’s a contradiction.” Helped by Polly’s insistence he stopped twenty feet from the paradoxical threat.
Leo raised his eyebrows, sighed, shrugged and said; “Hold him good. She’ll kill him.”
Polly didn’t want to ever see Prince demonstrate his full unbridled abilities, but was irritated by Leo’s brash claim. She said; “I’m glad you feel so well about your dog, but she doesn’t really want to see him unchained.” She watched Leo scratch his chin, then added; “Look, Prince doesn’t start fights, so why don’t we just introduce them slowly.”
Leo said; “Prince? Weird. This is Princess.”
Polly interrupted him to say; “Double weird.”
Leo continued; “Well that’s not really her name. ...... I call her that now. My mom kept calling her that and it got catchy. Mom said that she was the best treated female in the house, so she was a princess. Her real name is Amelia.”
The dogs were now next to each other and were doing their sniffing routine, specializing in butts, when Polly asked; “What do you mean, real name. Which one is it?”
Leo recalled something from a Classic Comic Book he had read, put on a silly face and said; “Ah, what’s in a name. A rose by any other ......” He lost his train of thought, considering the
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possibility that he was combining two different books, but more importantly Polly’s blank look suggested that she hadn’t the vaguest idea of what he was talking about. “She’s got a chip that says her name is Amelia, but everyone calls her Princess. It’s like when a lady gets married.”
“Woman.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Let’s walk.”
Princess pulled Leo south and Prince followed her, pulling Polly. Leo said; “She pulls me all over the place, but I don’t care. I like to see her explore whatever gets her interest as long as it doesn’t mutilate me.”
“I’m kind of the same way with Prince.”
“I like that. I just hate it when I see the codgers with obedient pace-keeping dogs at their sides. Complements their pacemakers. Boring! ”
Polly nodded as she passed Leo by, propelled by Prince, who now wanted to get a whiff of Princess’ face.
Leo went on; “The people around here think I look stupid allowing her to be as free as possible, but I really could care less what they think and I’m not going to let it curtail our fun.
Some of them think that she is an attack dog because she tries to go to them with her tail wagging. With her tail wagging! I let the jerks think that as it keeps them away from us.”
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While what Leo said was true he had another reason for saying what he did. He thought it likely that Polly would be subjected to the same scrutiny and wanted her to feel that it wasn’t worth squat. While Polly didn’t say so, it had the opposite effect. It strengthened her awareness of the unwanted commentaries and took another step in making her see that her new friend had also noticed. She thought; “While he is saying that we’re in this together, in a way we are and in a way we aren’t. It’s a lot easier for a boy to ignore the social norms than it is for a girl.
...... Woman. ... Whatever.” She side-stepped and said; “Looks like nobody’s here but us.”
Leo replied; “Happens to me a lot. They think I’m going to totally lose control and then she’ll run over and bite everybody.”
He laughed and was quickly joined by Polly.
Princess thought; “Up until now I didn’t like little guys much.”
Prince thought; “Bigger is indeed better.” As he slowed down to re-investigate possible posterior party potentialities, he thought; “Safety required first,” hoping no hostile invaders were sneaking up from behind. Other thoughts were, of course, subsidiary and changed from moment to moment.
They rounded a sharp bend which was the result of their being in the un-paved right side “easement” which harbored a mature apple tree, now blooming tiny white flowers. Its wide trunk and
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low branches caused Prince and Princess to think that a move into the un-covered left easement was called for.
Polly asked; “Do you think they’re watching right now?”
“If it’s not nap time.”
Polly tensed.
Leo saw that and said; “I guess you can’t really blame them much. After they get sedentary they can either watch the stupid TV or us.”
“Tough, it’s rude.”
“They don’t think so; they want to be entertained.”
“Then let them play cards.”
Leo nodded and smiled, saying; “Not bad. But, in fact they sit in front of the screen and expect it to do everything for them. Can’t make it any easier than that. Problem is they don’t like anything they see.”
Polly wrinkled her brow questioningly.
Leo said; “Do you watch TV?”
Polly thought a bit and answered; “Not really. I have it on sometimes, but I don’t pay attention to it. It’s sort of there to kill the silence.”
He touched her shoulder and responded; “I’m exactly the same way and I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone said the same thing.”
She said; “I would actually watch it if there were some diversity. But what happens is that you get a good show once
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every five years, then everyone makes photocopies of it with a special effect or two, until you puke.”
“Yeah. My dad tells me that this has something to do with business; like a dentist who keeps filling the proven cavity and ignores the other decay to keep you having to come back.”
Polly added; “And the educational stuff played three times daily for a week.” She mock lowered her voice and continued; “On the poopidy-doo coast of Sumatra scientists have been attempting to measure the rate at which tsetse flies enter reptilian nasal ducts by attaching miniature thermodorastics to transfuditional, helter-skelter backed gecko udders ......” She ran out of words and stuck her hand into her mouth to produce a gag.
Leo laughed wickedly and spit over the nearby fence. He said; “So, sure they’re watching us. Maybe if we could do exactly the same thing every time out they’d get as bored with us as they are with their TV’s.”
“I don’t think that’s possible with Prince.”
“Nor with Princess.” Leo put his free hand over his eyes and in a voice mock reminiscent of some low-budget vampire movie said;
“So, my leetle sveetie, vee vill be vatched until the sun poots us in our coffins. Vee vill be safe there until nosy Von Helsing’s TV goes ka-ka-poot.”
Prince and Princess thought that they were making as much sense as humans ever do and kept stressing their leashes seeking
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to get to their destinations as quickly as possible. They soon reached the fork, somewhat surprising Prince as he had previously approached it only from the other direction. He squinted his eyes into the declining sun and wondered if he was in the right place.
It almost looked the same, but from this angle ......? Princess slowed to a near stop to see if anyone had an agenda. Prince used the opportunity to twist around and make observations from as many viewpoints as he could imagine, resulting in him now being 95
percent certain that he was in the same place he had been previously and again felt comfortable, hoping it was not a trick of the slanted light. Polly and Leo also stopped and looked to each other, neither registering any particular inclination as to direction.
All eyes and ears turned to a thud coming from Mary Jane’s property. The mischievous brown rabbit had again knocked over the white rabbit lawn ornament and was racing their way. He was either blind, stupid or in desperate need of a thrill to approach dogs who like fresh meat. He veered off, heading north to the circular portion of the road. Decisions were made without the use of brain power and the chase was on. The rabbit’s quick irregular leaps led two dogs who looked like they were pulling heavy sleds and two humans, hands outstretched, running erratically on the uneven dirt. Breathlessly, Polly said; “I hope they don’t catch it.”
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“Why?”
“Gross. They’ll eat it.”
Leo didn’t initially visualize it, but when he did he pictured the blood and decided that it would be gross. However, he said nothing, content to let Polly think that he was gross. He thought that boys were supposed to be that way, where in practicality it was irrelevant as there was no chance that the rabbit would be caught unless it dropped dead of a heart attack.
They all ran as best they could until the wily rabbit, who had played this game for years, ducked between a space in the wire fence and kept going. Prince and Princess were forced to stop at the point of entry. They frantically tried to get through; first leading with their big heads, then sticking paws through the hole as if they thought that if they could get some part of their body through the rest would easily follow. They looked up and could no longer see the rabbit, who had made it back home to his burrow on the other side of the road on the Rulestone property. The dogs’
agitation slowly subsided while they sniffed the immediate vicinity, hoping to find some clue. Their mood changed to one of lethargy, not sure whether they wanted to stay and hope for some miracle, or leave with no reward.
Polly tugged at Prince’s leash and said; “Come on. We better get going before someone thinks that you’re going to poop on their
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easement and have a ‘reason’ to be a pest.” Prince complied and the entourage proceeded.
After a few steps Leo said; “Wait a minute. Let’s go back the other way. There’s something I want to do.”
Polly posed no questions or objections and when Prince saw Princess backtrack he followed. They got to Mary Jane’s property again and Leo walked onto the unfenced portion in front of the house, ignoring the braying fenced burros and sat the white rabbit back on its wooden feet. He rejoined Polly and she asked; “What was that all about?”
Leo grimaced; disappointed that Polly would have to ask. He said; “It’s a song I like. ‘When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go ......... Feed you head.’ I’ll play it for you when you invite me over.”
Polly was unfamiliar, but she thought that she was on a chessboard right now and that her head did need something. She offered interest, but no commitment, saying; “I think I’d like that very much someday.”
Leo was encouraged. He softly said; “Come on. Let’s go back the other way again. Maybe the dumb bunny will pop back out.”
Prince and Princess looked at each other incredulously and had they words would have said; “Can’t these jerks make up their minds.” They made the briefest of low growls and turned back.
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After a few steps they heard a car rattling down the road and turned to see Leo’s greasy haired brother in his Rent-A-Wreck.
Greaseball called out; “Come on, Leonid,” emphasizing the name in an insulting fashion. “You’re needed at home.”
Leo made a disgusted face and replied; “Oh, man.”
Greaseball said; “Get in the car. Your girlfriend will have to wait,” embarrassing both Leo and Polly, but considering himself at the height of pharmaceutical humor and wit.
Rather than standing there and arguing, thereby likely subjecting Polly and himself to more awkwardness, Leo waved her a feeble goodbye and got Princess and himself into the dented smashup.
Polly returned his gesture and watched the car make a screeching U-turn, leaving tracks in the easement and speed back down Camino De Lucia, wondering why it was necessary to pick up Leo by car and why it went to the corner and made a left onto Corrales Road. Prince was stunned at the sudden loss and sat on his haunches, his head slowly turning from left to right and back again and back again, ......... The sun was pouring the last of today’s golden glow and now devoid of human companionship, Polly’s strange feeling of earlier in the afternoon returned. She slowly led a compliant Prince toward home feeling as if the eyes of Texas were upon her and hoping that the bodies attached thereto meant no harm.
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Some spooky birds broke the quiet with screeches and the rustling of leaves on tender branches. Polly flinched at every sound. Prince would like to have had a chance to shut the beaks of the zooming remnants of the dinosaur age for all time, as he effortlessly detected Polly’s unease. When they got 500 feet from home Polly stopped short and let out a small scream. The worst possibility came true. Barely detectable to Prince Mr. and Mrs.
Rulestone stood up from behind the four foot chamisa bushes which lined the front of their property and Polly saw Mrs. Rulestone’s contorted and tortured fat face, reminding her of the original
“Night of the Living Dead” zombie attack. Mr. Rulestone’s perennially smiling face sucked his ancient, unlit tiny cigar. It was now so dilapidated that he regularly got tobacco in his mouth, causing him to regularly spit, on occasion “accidentally” hitting Mrs. Rulestone with the discharging lips’ icky brown gob. Polly saw a poison gun terrorist. Actually, Mrs. Rulestone was merely displaying her “normal” nose-wrinkled-smelling-something-foul expression and Mr. Rulestone was merely doing his customary watching, thinking about how he might get his next spit
“accidentally” on Mrs. Rulestone. But in Polly’s state of mind she sensed monstrous danger. Prince thought that he would either have to escort a nervous girl home or get in a fight.
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Mr. Rulestone said; “’Evening,” as he watched Mrs. Rulestone from the rear, planning his next attack on her spotted, tan, tent of a dress.
Polly looked right at the couple, focusing on Mrs.
Rulestone’s hedge clippers and mayhem disguise while remembering Freddy. She screamed, causing the resident rabbit to dive in his hole to avoid the coyotes, but having little effect on anyone else. She ran the rest of the way home with Prince at her rear struggling to keep up.
After another long week of repetition and no meaningful progress on any front, Mom and Dad sat leaning against their headboard, laptops lapped and the maximized space between un-rumpled. Dad searched the net for information on the history of American private banking and Mom looked for stories concerning George Washington’s supposedly wooden teeth. Dad was unable to find anything that fit the bill, excepting the bleak possibility of one web site which purported to have the ability to answer any questions about “general” banking, “with a subscription fee of only 29.95,” presumably in US dollars, ”manned 24-7 by operators in Korea and India.” He decided to be “entertained” and went to the Amazon book section. Mom grimaced and fussed around many sites, none of which told her what she wanted to know most. Did our first president suffer from orificial splinters? It seemed significant. In a few minutes Dad spoke; “Listen to this. ‘The
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indirect, frigid winter sun un-imposed its radiance deficiency on a block of hot, dry ice, which comfortably rested on the cracked concrete in front of the Tenth Avenue storefront bearing a wan plastic sign with ‘Women’s Pharma’ lettered in already ran as opposed to running cerulean calligraphy, resulting in a standoff, not of the Mexican variety.’”
Mom politely waited for the sentence to end and after a five second linger in limbo said; “What on earth is that? Some author-posted, otherwise unpublished, unsalable book?”
“No, it’s the opening of a new release from a top ten guy titled and get this; ‘Going Through the Motions.’”
“Are you sure you didn’t get on one of those gross joke websites?”
“Amazon?”
Mom shrugged as if to say; “Who knows?”
Dad shrugged too and said; “It says it’s by John Walter Downey.”
“I think I’ve heard that name. Didn’t he get famous for dissing some TV host?”
“I don’t know, but they think they can get 42.95 plus shipping for it in hard cover. .............. Wait a minute.
There are four different versions, each with a different number of pages at escalating prices.”
“Maybe the others have a better opening.”
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Dad said; “I haven’t the slightest, but if you get the deluxe version for only 55.95 plus shipping you can get a personalized facsimile signature.”
“Of who?”
Dad smiled.
Mom got maddeningly serious and said; “I wish someone would write a story telling me something I don’t already know. I think I’ve seen that place in New York and elsewhere plenty of times.
If I had any interest in it a cell phone photographer would suffice.”
“Oh, my little literarily challenged Luddite; you obviously miss the precise poetic nuance, unless thou art jesting.”
“Fashionable pessimism.”
“So?”
Mom perked up; “So? So, it’s been fashionable since the day of the flood. It’s about time for something new.”
“Like?”
“Like, something holding out some chance for optimism, even if it has to be fictional.”
“You want someone to play Don Quixote, while everyone knows the result will be sacrificial? Irrationally demanding, thy name is woman.”
Mom laughed heartily, laptops un-lapped and the space between them rumpled and disappeared into the warm sunlit air.
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