The neon blue sign buzzed like a whispering ghost in a jukebox machine. If I was going to stay sane, I’d need to unplug that thing.
Empty boxes, broken bottles, and an old oak bar stained with bourbon spittle spoke to me from the past.
I grabbed the broom and swept away the loneliness, the regrets, and the cigar ash.
The place came cheap, but restoring it would take lots of black coffee, cleaning supplies, multiple coats of fresh paint, and music.
I jiggled the jukebox, put in a dime and pressed G7. “Your Cheatin’ Heart” began to play, and I picked up my broom and sashayed around the piles of the last century’s karma.
I brushed it up into cardboard boxes and left them outside for the garbage man.
The old stains and dismay would make their way to their final resting place, settling in for eternity.
Joe grinned from ear to ear like a man who would bury something behind the barn and dare you to dig.
“Hi there, Patsy, wanna join me for a couple of fingers of homemade hooch?”
“OK Joe, what flavor is it today?”
“Well I put a bunch of raspberries in, so there’s that.”
“MMMMMMmmmmmmmMMM! I just love raspberry, give me four or five fingers, please.”
Joe and Patsy sit on the porch rocking away, filling and refilling their tiny shot glasses with Joe’s pink hooch.
A white cat with sky blue eyes jumps in Patsy’s lap, but she barely takes notice.
“That’s Martin,” Joe slurs out. “He’s deaf.”
“Well, it ain’t stopped his purr machine – I can feel it in my heart.”
Martin makes himself into a loaf, and falls asleep.
Then Patsy, then Joe. Joe snores…
“Meeooooooooooow!”
Patsy yawns, stretches her neck, and shakes her head.
“Martin sure got a yowl on him, even though he can’t hear none.”
“Yeah, it makes him EXTRA loud.”
“Oh my Gawd, it’s pitch black out, I can see the little dipper. What time is it anyway Joe?”
“It’s 3 AM and I think you should stay the night. We wouldn’t want you tripping over any Longhorns on the way home.”
“That’s my favorite thing about you, Joe… You just never quit tryin’.”
“Well you know I love you, Patsy. I’ve loved you since fifth grade.”
“Well kiddo, that didn’t work out, did it?”
“ We can always try again, we older and wiser now.”
“Older for sure, but wiser!” She laughs. “Joe, when you left me I had to break open my emergency box of smiles I keep hidden under my bed. They all spilled out and there ain’t none left. Not a one!”
Joe wraps Patsy up, enfolding her safely in his strong arms. “I’ll never leave you again puddin’.”
Patsy sighs. Tears do back strokes in her eyes, blurring her vision.
“I have to go home to feed my cat. You gonna walk me home since you’re so worried ‘bout me walking on my own?”
Joe’s not smiling anymore.
“You’ll be fine, Patsy. You’re only three doors down.”
Patsy reaches into her woven bag and pulls out a large flashlight – the multiple choice kind: regular, long distance, extra bright, red, flashing lights, and a 100 decibel horn.
“Bye Joe.”
She clicks the extra bright and the long distance. Gotta see any Tree Scorpions or Rattlesnakes in my path – any in front of me, or the one behind.
Norbert was intent on creating a magical dining experience for his wife Elise. Elise was still at work and she expected to come home and throw something together for them, but Norbert had the day off and recently watched an episode of ‘Yan Can Cook” where he made Egg Foo Yung, Spring Rolls, and Vegetable Lo Mien.
Norbert took out all the dry ingredients he had hidden in a box in the back of his clothes closet.
Then he reached to the backs of the refrigerator and freezer shelves, where he’d hidden the rest.
The kitchen table was now covered with everything he needed to begin.
He flipped on the recording of Yan’s episode and took mixing bowls, spoons and spices out of the cabinets.
The first thing he was supposed to do was wash all the vegetables for the Egg Foo Yung and Lo Mien.
Instead, he put the sprouts to soak in Soy Sauce. This was his first mistake.
All of a sudden he felt something crawl up his pants leg.
God did that feel weird.
He pulled down his trousers and a little grey mouse was clinging to his leg hair.
That was due to his second mistake, or should I say it really was the first, because leaving dry goods in your clothing closet is never a good idea.
Next thing he knew a series of mice were zipping around the linoleum.
“Oh my God.” Norbert yelled out to no one.
Oh my God.” Norbert called out to God. “Please help me!”
A bright light fell gently on Norbert. He calmed down immediately and knew exactly what to do.
After pulling his trousers back up, he opened his front door.
He took cheese from the refrigerator and cut a few tiny pieces.
He lay a piece down halfway between the kitchen and the front door, then another piece on the floor door jam.
He walked several feet down the hallway, passing many neighbors’ doors and, sprinkling the other pieces of cheese.
All the mice scurried out of Norbert’s apartment, following the deep cheesy aroma and grabbing up the two pieces in his hallway as they went.
Norbert ran into his apartment, slammed and locked the door, and called the super, Stan.
“There’s a bunch of mice on the 10th floor landing would you please take care of that?”
“Don’t you worry Norbert. I’ll get on that right now.” Stan slammed down the phone.
Norbert carefully washed his hands and cleaned and disinfected all the cans and packages that had been in the box.
He wiped down the counter until it shone like a brand new shoe, and took a deep breath.
He pressed the rewind button and began to sing, “three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run, see how they run…”
Then he hummed… “Mmm, mmm, mm, mm, mm, mm, mm, mm, bum, dee bum, Mmm, mmm, mm, mm, mm, mm, mm, mm, bum, dee bum. Boing, boing, boing.“
He pressed play, but he couldn’t hear Yan.
The sound of a large broom swatting the landing, combined with lots of cursing filled the air.
Grandma Nettie squats into her electronic recliner. She’s still in her dressing gown, covered with tiny Grackles she’d sown into the flannel, scrutinizing the morning news. Little Loki, her long hair Chihuahua, nestles in her lap. “Those assholes!” She slams the arm of the chair, then tenderly lifts Loki’s chin up and nuzzles him. “Grandma Nettie didn’t scare her little baby, did she?” Loki licks her nose. “Well Loki, Little Red should be on her way by now, I’m really looking forward to that homemade Prickly Pear Jelly, those Stuffed Poblano Peppers, the Cilantro Lime Rice, and a big hunk of Corn Bread slathered in butter.” The word slathered oozes out of her mouth. Loki reads her mind and salivates. “Loki, you’re gettin’ me all wet!”
“So, little buddy… better get moving.”
She tickles Loki behind the ear.
“Let’s make some coffee. I’m in the mood for a latte, I hope that espresso machine is working today. Those European models are so finicky.”
Grannie pushes the propulsion button on the side of her chair and it lifts her abruptly, popping her upright and standing on two feet. She grabs her cane, but instead of actually using it, carries it into the dining room. She leans it against the polished granite island – the sun’s rays glinting off the top creating little diamonds – the pronghorn handle catching the countertop. Nettie washes up at the kitchen sink, measures out coffee, and pours organic whole milk and filtered water into their respective wells in the automatic. She starts her latest playlist on her mobile, Modern Granny Jazz, taps her toes, snaps her fingers and wiggles her hips. Loki jumps around her doing a little dance, half spinning, craning his ribs one way and then the other, and bopping his head up and down. “Wuf, wuhuff!”
The Pine Forrest
Bippi darts through the sparse pine forrest, at times rising on tiptoes to avoid the piles of dry needles and leaves, trying not to crunch them… Occasionally she pauses, makes little chirping noises to roust any subversives. She breathes lightly listening for a response. Then she looks around in every direction, checking for creeps, creatures, and Coral snakes, before dashing off again. She doesn’t want to be seen or heard, especially by the Tren de Aragua gang.
She makes out a voice and scurries behind a large Ponderosa Pine, peeking out one side, then the other.
Bippi breaks into a cold sweat.
Without warning the voice is in Bippi’s face.
She jumps.
“Hello there Red Riding Jacket.” Hanzo hisses gently in her ear. “I’ve been following you, but you didn’t hear me. Maybe you’d like to procure one of my stun guns, or a nice Beretta to keep you company in the woodsss.” Coyote hangs on the “s” in woods like he wants to blow out a birthday candle.
“Hanzo, you freak, step back!”
Hanzo opens his cobalt blue coat. Is he going to flash her?
Little Red puts her right hand in her pocket on a small can of capsicum.
“Hey buddy, keep that thing to yourself.” She turns her head away.
“Little Red?”
She turns back again.
First thing Red spots are every last one of the jackal’s twenty six ribs. He must be real hungry! He’s also missing fur in spots… Honzo sure is mangey lookin’ – she takes a step back. His jacket lining is covered with pockets, slots, and straps filled with all kinds of items, small caliber sidearms, little air horns, watches, hunting knives and switchblades, iphones (looking worse for wear), jewelry, survival bars, mescal buttons, and candy – Cinnamon Hot Tamales, little packets of Candy Corn, Tic-Tacs, and Chocolate Kisses.
Red eyeballs the plethora of loot. “That candy all left over from Halloween? How many toddlers went to bed in tears for your stash? It must be stale by now regardless.”
“Just got it in Tuesday.” “I’ll give you some free with a ssssignificant purchase.”
“Only one thing I’m looking for – a Wilson Combat SFX9. Got one of those?”
“No, and frankly I think that’s a bit heavy for your dainty little hands. Your red riding jacket’s a bit big on you too. You look like a parade float.” Gufaws.
Red quick draws her Glock, points at Coyote’s temple. “But a Glock’s not huh.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll leave you alone Little Red, but I’m warning you to watch out, there’s a vicious gang in the clearing.” “Thanks for the low-down. Buh Bye.”
“Wait! What about some wild flowers for your Grannie?”
“They look as wilted as your sales pitch, trickster.” “Did you pick them yourself – or order them from ACME?”
Red sprints East, then turns North once more. She’s about 200 feet away from the clearing. Bippi catches sight of the Tren de Aragua members crowding a fire pit, big enough for a few of them to be buried in, and cooking what looks like a Javelina. They didn’t skin it first, and the smoke from it’s hair wafts all the way over to her. “What a freakin’ stink!” She whispers. Their mistake is her cover, and Bippi takes off, clocking in at about twenty miles an hour – a crimson blur, whizzing through the forrest. She finally makes out Grandma’s sun-bleached adobe villa.
She runs faster.
Red dashes directly into Leon, Grannie’s Ranch Hand. He drops the wood he’s carrying for Grandma Nettie, and corrals Red’s picnic basket as it flies through the air – burying his nose in the wicker top and taking a deep whiff.
“Hold your horses there missy!”
“Lee you are a sight for sore eyes!”
“You almost dropped this Red. That would’ve been a calamity to be sure.”
The Visit
The doorbell chimes, sounding just like the exquisitely tuned wind bells out on Nettie’s porch… And it chimes again. Nettie hollers prickly, “I’m coming, keep your shirt on!” – lilting, “who is it?” “Grannie, it’s me Bippi.”
Nettie opens all three locks, turns the handle, and pulls the heavy door ajar. She steps out of the way. Little Red squeezes through, prying it open a bit more with her shoulders as she holds the basket of goodies out in front to jibe with the scanty entry.
Loki jumps on Bipi’s ankles, yapping, his tail wagging so strong he could clean the mud off Leon’s pickup. Red almost lets loose the tasty treasures once more. She hustles the treats directly to the pantry.
Leon jars the door all the way – he needs it wide to get in. He’s six and a half feet tall and built like a small truck. “Leon, you get bigger every day.” “How much weight you dead lifting now?” “Up to 440 lbs Annette.” “Want to join me at the Gym tomorrow – they have great machines…” “No flippin’ way. I get enough exercise in the garden, and cleaning up this place.” “Oh, I thought that was Rosie’s job – and mine.” Winking. “When was the last time you mucked the stalls young lady?” “Young lady! Why I outta clobber you, you foul mouthed mountain lion!” She pinches Leon’s cheek real hard. “Ow!” Bippi sheds her riding jacket – she weighs in at only about 101 pounds, but her wiry muscles are cut. She changes the subject. “Gran, I don’t understand why you needed another pepper spray, I just bought you one last week!” “Well see Red, I used the whole thing up on that Tren de Aragua house invader gang guy a few days ago…” Nettie averts her eyes. “Well surely you only needed a couple of sprays to incapacitate him…” “And what did you say now?! You had a home invasion and this is the first I’m hearing of it? And Ma will be livid! You need more people here Gran. Rosie coming in once a week to clean, and Leon being your only Ranch Hand is not enough protection.” “That’s why I didn’t want to take any chances with the pepper spray – those guys are monsters, it’s like dealing with zombies – they just keep getting’ up. I sprayed him good, then smacked him off the side of his head with the fireplace shovel… I had to call the Sheriff, and an ambulance.” Leon interjects, “That was a bit much Annette.” “Don’t be telling me how to save my own skin, Leon!” “You weren’t even here – you were out mending fences or something.” Red interrupts their play spat, as before. “I did see a group of them in a clearing in the forrest, but they didn’t see me.” Nettie drops her jaw. “Leon, I want you to drive Little Red home later.” “Yes Ma’am.” Shaking a finger at Red, “I worry about you walking over here kiddo.” “Grannie, I’m perfectly safe – I’ve got my Glock, and stop calling me Little Red – you know I don’t like it.” “OK Red then, ‘cause I’m never gonna call you that ridiculous Bippi name your Ma gave you. I might name a pet Roadrunner Bippi, but not a charming little girl. There’s nothing else for it, you with that shock of Red hair, and always wearing that Red Devon Riding Jacket. And by the way, how do you expect to keep out of sight in the forrest in that coat!? Maybe if it was brown or green. And a Glock, one spindly girl and one gun against a large gang?! Are you really my granddaughter?” “Grannie!” “You better start being smarter than this. I don’t wanna end up goin’ to your funeral!”
Bippi rolls her eyes, gazes up to the ceiling fan, and raises both arms to the sky, as if waiting for God to reply. Nettie ignores her. Red shrugs and lets them drop. “Want a cup o’Joe Red?” Teasing, “Grannie, you can’t be callin’ expensive Italian coffee out of a fancy machine Joe.” She snickers. “Well do you want some or not?” “Well yes I do, with some of that hot foam too, and lots of sugar, or maple syrup if you have it.” “I have it…” Grannie works the machine. She mixes in the syrup before topping the mug off with milk foam and a sprinkle of cinnamon. “OK then, what about you Leon?” “That stuff’s too rich for my taste. I’ll just have a Cola.” “In the Frig.” Bippi takes a seat on the gray velvet sofa opposite Grannie’s lounger. She fluffs a huge pillow and stuffs it behind her back. It’s the one Nettie embroidered with the Arizona flag. It’s so happy looking – that gold star splashing red and yellow beams over a blue sky.
Grannie sets the cappuccino in front of Little Red, along with a plate of homemade pine nut cookies. “Leon, just take a seat now, so both of you can listen to my story properly.” Leon coasters his soda, lifts the plate of cookies, inhales, and wrinkles his nose. He slaps down the squirrel food and cozies down. Grannie moseys back to her favorite chair, using her cane this time – favoring one foot – making a big show. She plonks down, but leans forward – her elbows on her knees… Red and Leon lean forward too.
“Alright then… It was 1978 and the Tison Gang broke out a’ prison. The account was all over the news and everybody in Arizona was on the lookout for ‘em.” “Grannie, I heard the men surrounded this territory with shotguns and rifles 24 hours a day to keep them out of town.” “Hush girl” smacking her lips. “They needed every firearm they could muster and I was an ace shot. You know, I won the first place prize for shootin’ at the State fair. It was that Remington Bolt Action Rifle, right there on the wall…”
“And a nice prize that is too Gran.”
“Anyway, the whole lot of us was out there waitin’. The police detailed a description on the radio, of who and how many, but those outlaws kept changing vehicles so we didn’t know what they were drivin’ anymore.
We figured Tison and his buddy Greenawalt were total sociopaths. Gary Tison was even able to pass three polygraphs claiming he had no plans to escape, and his nut-job wife convinced their sons their Daddy was a saint and falsely incarcerated. The brood helped him escape and went along for the ride.
What we knew, and could not bear, was that Tison and Greenawalt massacred Marine Sargent Lyons and his entire family on the road and were desperate to escape. They even butchered his baby and the dog. His niece managed to unleash the pup’s collar and strap it to her ankle so people would know who they were – that is before dragging herself a half mile toward the highway bleedin’ to death. Every last soul was so shot up they were barely recognizable.
So with those psychopaths on the loose we had to do something. It seemed like they couldn’t get over the border into Mexico so they headed north. That’s why we were all out protecting our town.
Then on the verge of Oak Creek Canyon we saw them – all those ugly men crammed into that car. We were all hid behind the rocks and trees for cover, but when they drove up closer, we stood up in one breath and marked them! They knew they were outgunned. They turned tail and headed back down the mountain. We riddled their rear end anyways. That car looked like Swiss cheese…”
Red nods holding her Grandma’s eyes.
Nettie takes a deep breath.
“We shortwaved the Marshals, and a blanket of lawmen went after those aberrations. But before they were caught they wiped out a couple of 22 year olds honeymooning in Colorado – just to take their van. Like they couldn’t a just left them livin’ by the side of the road.”
“Wow Gran, I think I finally understand why you’re the Bark Scorpion you are!” “I’m more like a Pronghorn protecting her young’uns – gentle, but dangerous when provoked…” “I’m also fast!” “You’re just an old Cowgirl.” Red grins. “I ain’t so old, you whippersnapper!”
Leon paws Little Red’s back. “Time to hit the road, if you want to go for a sally before supper. Caramel’s been waiting for you. She misses you, you know.” “Lookin’ forward to it Lee. I’ll bring her an apple.” Red heads to the pantry and plucks a Pink Lady. “Leon, you’d better fit her with an automatic rifle and extra rounds. You take one as well.” “Yes ma’am.” “Let’s go Red.” Red kisses Nettie on the cheek and gives her a big squeeze. See you soon Gran – love you.” “Love you too, Bipi.” Nettie scrunches up her mouth like she is sucking on a fresh-cut lemon. Red breaks out laughing. They all wave bye.
Annette latches all three locks, sliding the large golden bolt across the door jamb. She boogies to her flowered upholstered haven – using her cane like a baton in a marching band. Nettie rests her stick on the armrest, presses the button, puts her legs up and grabs the remote from the side panel. Loki jumps back in Nettie’s lap, circles five times, and chills. “Time to get back to “Poker Face”. I love that show! Kinda weird though that everyone she makes friends with winds up getting murdered. She’s some sort of bad luck.”
Out For A Ride
Leon mops his upper lip with the back of his hand, then slicks back his curls.
Croonin’ “Oh give me a home, where the Buffalo roam, and the deer and the antelope play…”
“Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word, and the skies are not cloudy all day…” He hums.
“Keep it up Lee, you sound great!”
Leon’s face turns a bright shade of cherry, while his heart do-si-dos in his chest.
Red saddles up Caramel, and Leon readies Chester.
They check the rigging of their daypacks, and the extra rifle holsters fitted in front of their Westerns within easy reach.
“Lee, how’s the training going with these two?”
“See for yourself, Red. Use the hand sign, and jaw out ‘sit’ to Caramel. She should lower herself for you.”
Bippi pets Caramel’s muzzle, then extends her hand. “Sit.”
Caramel stoops, and Bippi slides on. Caramel rises.
“Good girl, Caramel.” Red strokes her neck.
“And you too, Horse Whisperer!”
Leon grins, mounts, and they take off North, trotting higher up Canyon. The riders reach a plateau and spy a gang of Elk grazing on grass and dandelions. Caramel wants a chase – Red quiets her filly.
Red and Leon move on, winding up the rugged terrain.
The horses rear, snort – a Black-tailed Rattler is in their path.
Leon tosses Red his bridle, jumps off Chester, draws his pistol, and plugs the sucker.
Red dismounts and calms both horses.
The buzzworm lies still. Leon uproots a large rock and wrecks it’s head. It’s flat as a griddle cake, looking like some sick abstract collage an angry wrangler rendered. The ponies sigh in relief. “Let’s walk them for a bit Lee.”
“Good idea Red.”
They reach another steppe, and stop behind a thick cluster of Bristlecones, boulders, and sweeping sedge. Here they are – a large band – twenty or so Tren de Aragua!
They’re congregating around a heap of provisions… duffle bags open, stocked with food, and a portable armory.
A twig snaps.
The Daddy bandito stands up and looks in their direction.
He hoists a rifle, motions the rest to join him.
Red and Leon seize their automatics, slide off their sidekicks, and guide both to lie flat right behind the rock shelf.
The noxious swarm of machine gun toting fire ants heads their way.
“Remember what Gran said – they just popped up together blazing away!”
“One, two three!”
The Jefe shoots first – good thing – now they can claim self defense – it is anyway.
Red and Leon let loose on the vermin. Knocking them down in clusters like bowling pins.
The dregs advance on them, and they duck and pause for a second to re-magazine.
They rise, the leader is almost on top of them.
They spray the remainder with wild fire until every last cut-throat is on the ground wasted, or bleeding to death – some gushing. Not one is even able to lift a limb…
“No cell service up here. We’ll have to call the Sheriff when we get back to your Gran’s.”
“Good girl Caramel.” Bipi strokes her filly’s neck and guides her upright. “She’s shaking Lee – we’ll have to walk them awhile again.”
“Not a problem, Red. I’m glad they stayed underfoot and didn’t try to bolt.”
“Yeah, that was a blessing.”
“Think it was your training.”
“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you.” Leon hums to calm the horses. Then sings gently.
“As I walked out on the Streets of Laredo.
As I walked out in Laredo one day.
I spied a dear cowboy wrapped up in white linen.
Wrapped up in white linen and cold as the clay…”
Coyote comes a knockin’
Meanwhile at Nettie’s, Coyote begins climbing up a side trellis covered in Euphorbia. That is until his paws hit the spikes hidden under the leaves and flowers, and he topples to the ground. He watches the blood trickle out of the multitude of holes in his tender pads. Then picks out the cactus splinters one by one. Whispering to nobody in particular, “Ow! Gee whiz… How am I gonna get up on that roof, so I can jump into that inner courtyard? Nobody locks their courtyard doors, do they?”
Honzo’s gut grumbles even louder than the Hummingbirds testily twittering. They dive bomb his head for breaching their terrain – their meal disturbed.
Coyote regards the hummers as he creeps by, tripping over a NO Trespassing sign and stubbing his toe.
He squelches a holler, and murmurs instead, “Shhh-sugar!”
Limping, he pads around the house perimeter, peeks in the living room window, and peers at Grannie absorbed with the T.V.. It is loud. And gets louder. The bizarre Banjo twangs jar a descent of red crested Woodpeckers – whose wings kick up a dense dust devil. The whirlwind blocks his vision and his breathing. Coyote hawks and puffs. Confused, the peckers mistake the jackal’s fur for a Silver Birch, land on his crown, and bore him with their pointed beaks. As the vortex clears Honzo spies a ladder and dives to it, toeing a low step. He drags himself up rung by rung. Unfortunately for Coyote, it is a show ladder, and even with Honzo’s famished frame the third crossbar cracks under his hind leg. He splats, straddles a Fishhook Barrel Cactus, and spits out a muffled scream.
Countless Ocotillos, and Mexican Bird of Paradise bushes surround the rest of the outer walls making them unscalable.
Honzo scopes out a small shed. He unpacks his lock pick set, jimmies the lock, and breaks inside. There he finds a grappling hook and rope. Without warning, his thoughts transport him to his cozy kitchen, the aroma of dog chowder fills his nostrils. His grip loosens. He drops the hook on his big toe, jolting out of his reverie.
Coyote ties the rope to the hook and throws it on the roof. This time he is outside the front door, where there are no prickly plants. It catches. He climbs. Then uses the contraption to rappel earthward into Nettie’s courtyard.
It’s nice… Very nice.
There’s a Desert Willow, and a young Black Walnut creating circles of shade, Giant Sunflowers, Star Daisies, orange poppies, and a vegetable garden!
Honzo fills his pockets with eggplants, tomatoes, beans, and Delicata squash.
Jackpot!
Nettie stays glued to the television. The glass door is open wide, leaving only a screen between Honzo and his meal ticket.
Coyote slides the screen.
Loki perks up his ears… growls, dives off Grannie’s lap.
Nettie pivots her head, peepers first.
She stares down Coyote as he slinks towards her.
Loki vaults back onto Nettie’s knees, his front and rear paws rocking back and forth on each of her legs.
Sneering, he exposes his cuspids. The half-pint thunders ferociously, flicking his tail.
Grannie brays, and yanks her new crook-away from the side pocket. It’s knocked out of her hand as Honzo lunges at the Chihuahua.
Loki rallies chomping the flea bag where it hurts.
Coyote lurches back, comforting his groin as Loki slips between the jackal’s legs scooting under the couch.
The spicy atomizer perches on the Navajo Yei rug, beyond reach.
The jackal continues to reel rippling the rug. The woven corn dancers face each other in surprise.
Honzo twirls around in a mad dance, wildly flailing his forelegs from his nethers to the skylight, struggling to keep his balance.
He trips on the rug, tumbling over the husked humanoids crumpled beside Grannie’s recliner. Plummeting over the arm of the boxy lounger, he plants his pointy snout perfectly in Annette’s lunchbox.
Nettie shrieks.
She pushes the quick release button, propels Coyote off.
Eggplants, beans, watches, Candy corn, and a sack of peyote, fly through the air – as she devastates his jowl – depositing her new, very sharp teeth in his mug.
Nettie spews fur, blood and spittle. “Yuck!”
She lands in a perfect semi squat- Shuto hands – snatches her cane and thrashes the scruffy canine until he begs for mercy.
“No more, no more.” Coyote eyes Loki – wrenches toward him – but is blocked by the couch bed, just like a movie monster, stopped in the nick of time – the cornered hero saved only by a narrow rock alcove.
The pooch scoots deeper into the darkness under the couch, yipping, snapping.
“Why should I let you live, you scoundral?!” Grannie rhythmically drums her stick on the tiles.
“Can’t you see I’m starving. Maybe if you invited me over for dinner once in a while, I wouldn’t be dreaming of Chihuahua stew.” Annette considers this.
The jackal sneaks his hind paw catching Grannie’s foot. She executes a Kung Fu leg sweep, springs into the air, and pounds Honzo on impact, dislocating his knee.
“Yowowowllll!” Tears stream down Coyote’s maw.
“You sleazy snake in the grass! You’re just lucky I was wearin’ my slippers and not my cowboy boots!”
Just to be on the safe side, Nettie collects the extension cord used to help vacuum Black widows from wall crevices, and binds the invader’s other three legs together. She yokes on her elite home grill to anchor him down. Honzo sobs.
“I gat silver for steer jerking in the rodeo, ya’ varmint!” Nettie hoists the pepper spray off the rug, and delivers one good face shot. “I can’t breathe, you heartless hellcat!”
“Give it a break, buzzard!” She nabs her cell and dials 911. “Hello, I’ve managed to disable an intruder. Yes, you know I’ve called before, ‘cause you can see my number flash up on your screen! Yeah, that was me just a few days ago – whaddayah gonna do, arrest me for being a victim? No, this is no prank fella’! Please send the Sheriff and an ambulance… No, dang it, he’s still alive – just not kickin’.”
She turns to Coyote, gives him a sly smile and stomps in his direction. Honzo cringes terrified of a third whooping. “Well jackass, they say it’ll be awhile.”
Annette picks up the mescal buttons and places them on top of the breakfront. “It’s OK Loki. You can come out now, boy.”
The Return of the Descendent and Leon
Red and Leon lead the horses to their stalls, remove their saddles, water them, and fork in fresh hay. Leon curry combs Chester’s neck. Bippi nuzzles Cinnamon. “See you later alligator.” Cinnamon nickers. “Don’t you worry sweetie, I’ll be back, and sing you a lullaby.”
Bippi raps Gran’s doorknocker. Nettie looks out the peephole and sees Red. “You look ragged, girl, and you’re covered in dirt.” Leon and Little Red Riding Jacket remove their boots leaving them by the entry. Red gasps. “What the…” “Don’t say it.” Red exhales. “… heck happened here?!” Nettie points to Honzo hobbled on the parquet. “He broke in, planned to devour Loki! Make him into a stew, no less! Sheriff’’s on his way.”
“We had a bit of trouble ourselves. Red glances at Leon. “Guess there’s no need for us to call the Sheriff. “We’ll just wait ‘til they get here to give them an account.” “Good.” Leon mewls, sits himself in the bentwood rocker, levers his toes on the smooth floor, and closes his eyes. One of his socks has a nice size hole by his big toe. Grannie raises her cane to the ceiling. “Well, I got a slew of particulars to fill their ears with!” Then Nettie teases, guffawing. “Hey Leon, want me to darn your socks for ya while we wait?”
The Sheriff
The deputy hammers the ornamented oak door with his club. The chiseled Antelope relief appears to give him a dirty look. He rubs his eyes. “That man better not be denting my hand-carved beauty!” Nettie glances at Leon. “You know when they bang like that I can’t pretend it’s only the wind chimes and pay ‘em no mind.” She takes a deep breath. “Who is it?” She calls out in her sweetest, cooing timbre. “Deputy Sheriff Ma’am. You called.” Grannie undoes all three locks and opens to the Deputy. “Come on in, remove your shoes.” She points to the corner by the door strewn with footgear. Ignoring Nettie’s command completely. “Deputy Arnfried, here’s my card… Where’s the perpetrator?” “I know who you are. You alone?” She rips the card in four pieces. The Deputy raises an eyebrow. “Partner’s in the vehicle – two more units on the way.” Annette leads Deputy Arnfried to Honzo. The Coyote is sprawled out on the hard tile floor. “Well, Ms Annette, you’ve done it again. Not exactly sure what we’re supposed to do with this one – take him to the Vet or what?” “What are you talking about?! I need a doctor! Can’t you see she brutalized me?!” “Oh, he talks!” “He also broke in, stole vegetables from my garden and tried to capture my dog to eat for dinner!” “That seems just like what a regular Coyōt might do.” Red interrupts. “He also sells stolen goods and contraband. He’s got switchblades in there. Look inside his blue coat.”
“What an incredible cobalt blue! Where’d you pick up that coat mister? I’ve been looking for one just like it.” Arnfried gawks.
“Well if you must know, I bought it at Men’s Warehouse when I was making bank. The Tailor redesigned the lining for me. But that was pre-Covid. The market’s just not the same anymore…” “The name’s Honzo.” “Tom.” Deputy Arnfried gently opens the jackal’s bloody, but beautiful overcoat. “Just when I thought we might be friends…” He pulls out a fake Rolex. “You know defrauding the public is a crime. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in. There’s a medical wing at county, but we may have to call in a special Doc for you. After forensics we’ll send your coat out to be cleaned.” “Just get me the hell outta here please. I’ve caught a chill though, can we stop for a Golden Milk at Whole Foods?” “OK fella. We’ll get you sorted. You must be in shock.”
Grannie butts in. “Tom, it’s not just white collar – you got yerself a felon there!” “That’s Deputy Arnfield, Ms Annette.” “Oh I see, siding with the criminals.” Tom narrows his eyes at her.
Grannie snatches the little pouch of mescal buttons from top of the China cabinet. She thrusts out her arm to the deputy. “He had these.” “Well, ma’am, those weren’t on his person – maybe they’re his, maybe they’re yours…” “What?” “In any case hand them over, I’ll take care of – the evidence.” He grins. Tom shoves the little sack in his pocket. The Sherif’s deputy pulls out his Walkie. Little Red clicks her teeth in disdain. “Come in Fred.” “Fred here, buddy.” “What’s the brief.” “We have a badly injured suspect…” Grannie grumbles. The Deputy holds his hand up like a stop sign to shush her. “Is the ambulance here yet? He’s gonna need special care.” Honzo whimpers – salty droplets stream down his honker. “Thanks a bunch.” Tom nods. Bippi steps in front of the lawman and chirps in, “Sir, Deputy Arnfield… Lee and I had a run in with Tren de Aragua up the Canyon. There was no cell service… We planned to call when we got in, but you were already on your way.” Arnfield stiffens. “What happened.” Leon moves in, and takes over. “We were horse-backing and came up on them in a clearing. They started it – shooting at us. We had to defend ourselves or die trying.” “How many dead bodies?” “I don’t exactly know sir. We were devastated, and our rides were traumatized. We just sought to make it back before dark.” Tom sighs, resigned. “Can you show me on a map?”
“Yes.”
Deputy Arnfield pulls a map out of his jacket. Leon points to the spot. Arnfield marks it.
“Very good. We’ll send the other two units there.” He walks out to his buddy, leans over the open window, and points to Grannie’s house. Then lays out the map coordinates to a captivated Fred.
“I’ll call that right in, Tom.” Picks up handset. “10-5 to Chief.”
Arnfield strolls back into the adobe dwelling. He speaks to the gathered crowd. “I’ll just wait here for the ambulance – a bit chilly out there. Then I’ll be accompanying Honzo. My partner will hang back in case you need further assistance.”
“We’re OK.” Bippi draws in a deep breath.
“He’ll be going over home security with you guys. You really need to install an alarm system, including cameras, motion lights, and perimeter measures for the entire ranch. He has some leaflets… And we’d like you all to come down to headquarters within the next couple of days to make formal statements for the record. By the way, that’s not a request.”
Goodbyes
The ambulance arrives, and the paramedics set up Honzo with an I.V. They administer a mild sedative, and carry him to the transport on a stretcher.
Deputy Fred enters the domicile, and explains the complicated security necessary to protect the Ranch out here in the wild, including the outlying areas, what to implement for the animals, a smart home system for the house itself, and security screens for the doors – including the courtyard.
“No more leaving any doors or windows open around here without the proper measures – even if it’s hot.”
He tips his hat, sashays out the door, slips in to his vehicle, and takes off leaving a dust trail floating in the air.
Settling In
Little Red rushes out to Cinnamon. She hugs her, pets her, and sings her a bit of “You Are My Sunshine“.
“You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray. You’ll never know dear How much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away…”
She leaves the farm dogs to guard the horses for the night Leon comes out to feed them.
Then he, Bippi, and Nettie wash up, change, and sit down to the warmed up dinner Red’s mom sent. The whole house fills with the scent of hot peppers, corn, and sweet butter. It is good.
They plop down, and turn on the T.V. to watch “Cowboys & Aliens”.
Leon falls asleep first, snoring in little bursts – a tiny satiated Chihauhau blankets his belly. Bippi and Grannie doze off and dream of laying out on deck chairs under the shade trees in the courtyard holding hands – little Loki chasing the neighbors pie-faced cat through the Dayliles.
Marching while blowing the slide trombone. This is my orchestra practice today. Right now, I’m parading through the freshly mown grass and the volatile juices sting my nose. I sneeze – a whopper – and bonk my schnoz with the slide. Ow! I plop down on the park bench, and pull out my hanky to wipe my face and the splattered horn. Grass is so weird. We learned about it in Plant Bio class last week. It will send out a warning to its pals if you cut just one blade. So what do the lawn buddies do exactly? Do they bend over so the mower misses them creating grass circles that alien ants visit after midnight? Maybe the cutter moves so fast they don’t have time… or maybe it’s more to make the grazers sick to their stomachs… look you giant hooved monsters, if you’re gonna chew on us it’s vomit time!
The chickadees are chirping away, enjoying the sun splashed puddles of melted snow. It feels like spring, not December. The idiot school board members that decided to put on a moving ballet display most likely never danced a square dance – forget about the delicate pointework of the Sugar Plum Fairy – or played poignant classical music in a marching band.
OK, enough day dreaming – that’s what Pa would say. I can hear his voice inside my head. It’s time to get up and march again. I’ve got the music down, but I have to practice the actual footwork or I’ll be useless during the pageant next Sunday.
Right, left, right left, A, E, F, G. Right left, right left, half note C, half note C. I’m getting the hang of it now… I reach the sidewalk and switch to the planned piece, Tchaikovsky’s March from “The Nutcracker”. The light turns green, I can feel all eyes on me as I cross the intersection. The man in the Land Rover smacks himself on the forehead. A little girl in a white coat waves. I do a semi turn and slide the notes her way.
Made it.
Oh no! I’m at the Market! Please God, tell me how I’m supposed to navigate this?
The first stall is selling salami, hanging from strings. I catch one with my trombone and pull down an entire row. Wow – that’s one irate proprietor! I bow, as I continue to play…
Left, right, left, right… a little boy with a red balloon…
The slide is out of control – it has a mind of its own. POP!
He bursts out in a major tantrum kicking and screaming, as pieces of ruby latex fly through the air!
I can no longer hear Tchaikovsky’s celebration – my ears are ringing. That kid really has a set of lungs on him. Maybe he’ll grow up to be a Tenor and sing Pagliacci.
His mama glares at me as she lifts him up and folds him in her arms. I parade forward, and a plague of frantic people parts like the Red Sea – at least those who see me coming…
I make a mental note and file it under Use and Care of One’s Trombone… Please use a little less grease on the slide next time.
Oooh! Lemon meringue pie, my favorite. I’m gonna buy one on the way back. I lift my trombone bell to the sky and blow the rhythmic dance notes for everyone to delight in. A gust of trombone catches the pie stand’s inner awning like a boat sail. Molly – I can read her name tag – of Pies Are Us, tries to settle the display’s rattling shelves!. It’s like a mini-quake, she’d need at least six more hands and spindly spider arms to fix this. A couple of patrons try to help, but fail. The shelves topple. Three pies crash the cement. I look sadly into Molly’s eyes, I lower my instrument in mourning.
POW! One in the face!
She’s got a good arm on her.
I shake pie out of my eyelashes…
Yuummmm… The the crust is so crispy and buttery, the lemon, the perfect mix of tart and creamy, and the meringue is so light and sweet. It’s like eating a cloud. The crowd is grumbling – louder and louder. My head is buzzing. I can’t play anymore because I’d never be able to unclog my mouthpiece. I can’t clean myself up, I have nowhere to set my trombone! My hands are still clean. I lift the horn to pull in the slide and knock over a box of potatoes from the organic farmer.
They roll everywhere.
Amazing – he feels sorry for me. “Don’t worry son.” I am holding back tears. Oh no here they come. “Not worried,” I croak. That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told… Maybe no one will notice the leaking dam on my pie face, but I can taste them. Actually the salt adds something to the sweet and sour. I like it. I think I may sprinkle some on my next slice of pie.
I have to get out of here and get home and wash up before my hair glues together for good, but I suddenly have a following. I’m the Pied Piper leading the gang of angry shoppers out of the market. Will they chase me all the way home?
Home… What wonderful words of wisdom will my father wield? What will my brother do?
Must have been day dreaming again.
What a loser!
Wedgie!
That’s what I’ll get. Yikes…
That could be really demeaning. I’m gonna skip that shit today. I’ll head to grandma’s. She always helps. There’ll be no recrimination, no jokes, only love.
I reach the market’s end, wait for the traffic light, and march across the street. The crowd of pursuing mice stop haunting me. Now I really know how Clara felt.
I pinch myself, but I don’t wake up. So… not a dream.
I am no longer marching, I am race-walking. I reach grandma’s. I inhale deeply, lock the slide, and ring the bell with it – I wouldn’t wanna get her door all sticky.
She looks out the peephole and opens the door…
She looks me up and down, and smiles.
“A nice hot shower and some of grandpa’s old clothes from before he got chubby, that’s what you need.”
“Grandma.”
“Shh.” “And then some nice homemade chicken soup with dumplings.”
Penny sat in the farthest booth facing the door – “her booth”. She got a bang out of viewing the customers as they arrived, while they noshed, and as they were leaving – seeing how they’d changed. She speculated about what they’d order, figure out if they were with their colleagues from work, with friends, or family. She scrutinized them thoroughly – did they dress for the weather and did they keep their coats on or hang them up. Did they talk while snacking? Did they converse with themselves? She did, when no one was looking. Could you see the food mushing around in their mouths? Did they eat fast, slow, or did they pick at their food? Did they laugh? Did they clean their plates mopping up every last bit of gravy? Did they eat their vegetables?! She giggled at how many mothers she might have to notify, if she actually did that sort of thing. And finally, did they leave a tip?
Penny was alone as usual, keeping to herself, so she could write and sketch without being disturbed. But she filled up the entire table-for-four with her stuff: her laptop; her tablet with drawing “pencil”; and her phone for recording ideas too quick to get down even typing – or to secretly catch a bit of dialogue – something she might use someday – covered the paper Kris Kringle table cloth.
Penny’s piping peppermint hot chocolate with cream in a green to go cup embellished with a red ball ornament and tinsel was near the edge of the table. It had a secure top. She also had a devil’s food cupcake shaped like a squat Christmas tree with vanilla frosting dotted with red “balls”, and a golden icing star on top. It sat in a bowl to contain the crumbs, so it couldn’t ruin the equipment. Her cozy ecru woolen overcoat was squashed beside her, collar and shoulders up – close to the window like it was her dining buddy. She’d balled up her scarf and crammed it in the neckband. It effectively looked like a bearded head. Her date did keep the chill from the window a little farther away.
It was a banner day for watching customers, so close to the holidays.
So many oddballs tangoed in and waltzed out of the overly garnished little cafe. The walls were painted with washable spray-on snow, stenciled flakes, and blustery wisps, lightening the otherwise broccoli green walls. Sadie also displayed tree ornaments and paper decorations on the walls, with an angelic Christmas tree topper attached to the cash register. The whole place looked like a present ready to be opened. The paper extravaganza above the window near Penny had a smiling Santa in the center surrounded by white ruffles and real candy canes, but there were others with Red nosed Rudolphs, Snowmen, and Crepe paper 3-D Fir trees with mini lights – they must have been run by batteries – no wiring was involved. There were also several renderings of Chanukah Menorahs with varying days worth of candles kindled. You could never say Sadie forgot anyone. And instead of those regular old little “pillow” mints, you were given a red and white peppermint stick with your check.
Penny gazed out the large window at the Christmas trees lining the avenue. Each one was different, ornamented by the owner behind it. There were a few arguments when a tree was located on the border of two shops, but townies always ironed it out. It was the season of good cheer after all. It was three weeks after Thanksgiving and although Black Friday was finished, the gift buying was still in full swing – shoppers nervous about finding the perfect relic for each one on their list, and wrapping each trinket exquisitely. Sunday had lots of shoppers coming in for Brunch or Lunch, or a snack to keep them going. Many had been out for hours checking out the luxurious handcrafted items you couldn’t find anywhere else in the little boutiques along the Main Avenue in Cranberry Falls. So many perused the emporiums’ wares but didn’t buy anything because they knew there’d be something even nicer in the next store. Eventually they went back and bought the things they liked the best – that is if someone else didn’t buy them first. There was a lot of running around. People bumping into each other, laughing, exclaiming excuse me and Merry Christmas.
First were the regulars… Tim the owner of the pet shop – he was always covered with fur and feathers. He was wearing a brand new ski jacket – a ski-lift ticket still hanging from his wrist. He undid the hood, wedged his scarf and mittens in a pocket and hung it up on the coat rack. Oh, ho – he was wearing an “ugly” Holiday sweater with a dog and cat dressed up as elves, the cat was planning something, you could tell. He sat at the counter and ordered fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a small green salad. Tim ate, relishing every bite and chatting up the waitress, Grace. Penny imagined he was one of the golden puppies in his window, digging into the chicken, potatoes and gravy, and then morphing into a bunny rabbit to finish off the salad. Should she write a tale about animals today? Tim chewed with this mouth slightly open due to his deviated septum. He always left a large tip.
Next in was Katy, she had on only her blouse, jeans and a sweater. She was wearing lined snow boots though. Penny guessed she’d just run over from her Fabric Yarn & Fixings studio next door. She was shivering. Ordering a hot cocoa with whipped cream and a bowl of the soup-of-the-day, she almost made the counter vibrate! Tim turned to her to wish her a Merry Christmas, winked at Grace as she removed his plate and slipped her a $50 tip – whoah. Grace stood there with her mouth wide open, then managed to get out a, “Thanks Tim.”
Grace placed Katy’s cocoa in front of her chattering teeth ASAP. All Katy could do was nod as she warmed her hands on the extra large mug. And Tim walked over to Penny. “Hi there Penny, Merry Christmas. Why not drop by Fur and Feathers and pick out a nice kitten – it’ll be my treat.” Penny was stunned. “Thank you so much Tim, but I couldn’t possibly accept.” “Nonsense.” Tim handed Penny his card, turned and carefully wrapped his scarf around his neck, zipped up his Ski jacket, put on his mittens. He had to use his shoulders to push against the wind to open the door.
A clique sauntered in. They didn’t look familiar to Penny at all. They carried loads of shopping bags from the custom wrought jewelry store, the artisan candy bazaar, and Melanie’s designer clothes. Penny loved Melanie’s designs, but she couldn’t afford them… someday. The gang of five had to pull a folding chair over to the end of their booth – the other four jammed themselves into the seats – the tallest took the chair. It creaked. They kept all their packages by their feet – their legs looked like a corral enclosing multicolored horses – bags peeked through. The broncos were busting to get out. This crew must be from the city. They ordered, “cinque espressi, e la pizza fata di casa di Sadie.” Grace swung around and rolled her eyes – of course they just had to order in Italian. Aside from all the oohing and ashing, and yummin’ over the food, they whispered to each other like they were spies visiting Cranberry to gather information on a secret government gingerbread house project.
And that reminded Penny, it was time for her to get flour, butter, vanilla, spices, and candies for her own gilded digs. She made a note on her cell’s calendar.
Katy finished the last drop of her Spicy Cannellini Bean soup, and fresh slices of Ciabatta bread dripping in warm olive oil. Everyone in the area tried to support the other shops. This bread was from the Italian bakery across the street – Pane Lane. She dug into her pocket and gave little wrapped favors to Grace and Sadie, left Grace a tip, and gave Sadie a giant hug. Then she walked over to Penny. Katy cleared her throat. “Penny, Merry Christmas. I hope you have a gorgeous one.” Penny was surprised that another person spoke to her, but wished Katy a Merry Christmas too. “Will you be going caroling with us this year?” Penny blushed, “My singing voice stinks, you guys wouldn’t want me there.” “Nonsense.” Katy smiled, and handed Penny a flyer.
Everyone came over and wished Penny a Merry Christmas, they all said in case they didn’t see her before the ho-ho-ho. Each one had some event for her to join in, or a gift for her to collect. To Penny, they looked sad, and must have wondered if she would be alone on Christmas – no one knew a thing about her – if she had a family nearby, or friends, or even a pussy cat. So many Merry Christmas interruptions, her writing was hijacked. She did, however, catch two tweens come in, order hot fudge sundaes with peppermint stick ice cream with extra whipped cream, and get covered in it. She’d made tons of notes on that episode – the histrionics with the Maraschino cherries, the navy pea coats dripping with brown, white, and pink, their struggles to put gloves on their sticky hands, only getting them on the fingers, then not being able to take them off.
Around 5 pm, just before closing, someone new walked into the cafe. Ooooh who was he? OMG was he handsome! His skin was glowing, and his cheeks were pink smacked by the cold air. He had thick, wavy, black hair tossed to one side, and the most beautiful blue eyes Penny had ever witnessed. He reminded her of one of those stunning Manga guys who always falls for the heroine, then the two wind up saving each other from some enchanted danger. He walked right up to her wished her a Merry Christmas, introduced himself as Asa, and started to chat about writing. Then he casually mentioned he’s a reporter for “The Star” in Pulse city. He’d been tasked with writing a human interest story about the Holiday Season in a small village and he picked this one, pretty close to home and colorful.
Penny took offense, “Here’s a tip, don’t!”
Asa was stunned. “Why on earth not?”
“I just think It’s rude, that’s all.”
“Well I was in Pane Lane and the baker said you know more about this town than anyone.”
“She wouldn’t know that!”
“Anyone can see you’re a writer.” “In any case the police are looking for a large truck. Apparently the bed is so full of packages that they’ve been falling out all over the road leaving a trail of glitter and bows. Sounds like a good scoop to me. Who do you think is driving… Santa?”
Penny couldn’t help herself, and burst out laughing.
“I could use a ride.”
“Okay.” “I’ll go with you to find the truck. Help me put my equipment in my pack.”
Asa and Penny gently gathered all of Penny’s kit meticulously filling her cushioned backpack. It had pockets for her laptop, her tablet, and her mobile. She put on her coat, her scarf, and donned the pack. Then she ripped off the top of her, now cold, chocolate and gulped it down.”
Asa laughed. “You have a brown mustache.”
Penny turned bright red. It felt like the warm glow traveled from her toes all the way up to the tip of her nose! Asa pivoted and a large watermelon tourmaline, hanging from his neck, bonked Penny’s forehead.
“Wow, that’s beautiful.” She grabbed a napkin off the table and swiped her lips.
“Yeah, the lady from the gem joint said it has magical powers.” Asa held out his arm and placed his hand above Penny’s head (which was easy since he was at least a foot taller than she). “Your wish is granted.”
Sadie and Grace elbowed each other behind the counter.
Penny and Asa bolted out the door.
Flurries of flawless flakes kissed them as they skidded down the block to Penny’s auto. Asa grabbed Penny’s arm and held her upright.
She opened the trunk and put her backpack in an old fashioned milk crate. She removed her phone and shoved it into her coat’s inside pocket. She opened the passenger side of the car so Asa could get in. His head almost touched the roof.
Penny checked the mirrors and started the car. It was freezing inside, but she couldn’t put the heat on until the engine warmed up or frigid air would blow them into icicles. Asa took out his portable police radio and dialed in to the local PD. They were on Chestnut Drive off Starlight Circle. Penny hurtled toward the cops’ location, only decelerating a hundred yards behind, so they wouldn’t catch her speeding.
It was a bit exciting, this reporter thing. Maybe she should have a crack at it herself. The Daily Falls was always looking for investigative reports. It was like Asa could hear her thinking.
“So you could get used to this, huh?”
“I don’t know, I normally write fiction, and I do cartooning. I have a regular syndicated strip written under a pseudonym – nobody knows it’s mine.”
“Ah… let me think… is it “Creatures of Habit?”
“Oh my God! I can’t believe you figured that out,” she cried, nearly running off the road.
“You do sort-of remind me of a cat.”
“And you remind me of an owl!’
“The ‘Owl and the Pussy-cat’ went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat…
Oh lovely Pussy! Oh Pussy, my love
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!”
Asa looked tenderly into Penny’s eyes.”
Loud static startled the pair.
“All available vehicles to Cinnamon Street and Music Box Road.”
Penny drove.
The truck had veered off the road dropping boxes in the surrounding snow, but the driver was nowhere to be seen. Penny and Asa jumped out of the car and snapped photos with their Androids. Then they both saw him – dressed in a Santa suit – perching all the way up at the tip top of an old Butterscotch pine.
Of course they snapped more pictures. And then suddenly a sled appeared with eight tiny reindeer, and Santa was whisked away. They ran to the bridge and watched as Santa’s sleigh coursed aside the frozen falls. The police wanted to know what the heck the two of them were doing there…
Penny drove Asa to the Berry Nice Inn. He invited her to dinner. She accepted. They scanned the snapshots while waiting for the menus. The ones of the truck and goodies came out alright. But none of the pics of Santa and his sleigh were viewable – unless you knew what you were looking for – it was like looking through a kaleidoscope with bits of frozen falls, Santa, and reindeer all jumbled up, fractured.
The waitress came by with the menus.
“I think I’ll have pea-green boat soup to start,” sighed Asa.
“And I’ll have the Stelline in broth.
“How about splitting a mince-pie for the main, with quince tarts for dessert?” Asa smirked at Penny, flirtatiously. “And then I’m going to ask you to spend Christmas with me. I’m telling you now so you have time to think it over.”
His watermelon tourmaline clinked against the water glass creating a lovely bell-like sound, and refracting a line of lime green and pink light on the white table cloth.
“Well, it’ll have to be at mine, because I’m getting a kitten tomorrow.”
“I adore kittens,” Asa said, and he slid his hand along the table and touched Penny’s fingers.
Nobody, just nobody could find Miss MacCreedy’s Cat. I saw the poster on an old telephone poll front of the corner store after buying a chocolate dipped strawberry ice cream sugar cone. That was delicious. Now I am in pursuit of said cat. Her name is Mitzi and Miss MacCreedy never cuts Mitzi’s nails – so she’s a bother. I have a hunch though. Follow me now, hurry up. We’re headed to Golden Pond – it’s called that because everyone who wins goldfish at the county fair always throws them in there. There are some big ones now too. They grow a lot ‘cause everybody feeds em popcorn and other garbage you know they shouldn’t eat. I’m bettin’ Mitzi is right there going fishing. See this? This is a giant net ‘cause I don’t wanna get scratched. And there she is! See her? You can see her head and leg pokin’ out from the reeds on the right there. I think those fish are teasing her – trying to get her to fall in. Woah! That’s a jumper – shimmering in the sunlight. Ha, ha – Mitzi’s all wet now. I’m just gonna sneak up on her. Tip toes… gotcha you mischievous feline. Don’t you squirm too much or the net’ll bite ya. Well, that’s it. I’m off to collect my reward so’s I can buy more ice cream. It is awful hot today.
I retreated into my journal, surrounded by a blaze of falling leaves. It seemed as if the park itself was a split watermelon someone dropped from the sky. I whispered the delicious absurdities to myself, the words dripping from my lips like ripe peach juice. What an imagination! I loved the day the skeletons rose from our cellar and started dancing with the potatoes. I cast an eye on another entry… the evening I opened the fridge and a devil’s food cake was in the process of devouring an orange. I understood why, chocolate and orange go very well together. The cake had separated the slices, removed all the excess strings and hung them up. They dangled there like winter white spider webs. Just as I got to my favorite part — a bulletin detailing the tragic morning all the animals in the forest sprouted serrated fangs and chased down my social studies teacher — a delulu came up to me. He stared at me for at least a minute, and said, “you do know….” I didn’t let him finish – I’d heard this before. “Yes I do, I do know it is not Halloween… yeT.”
This is a short screenplay that when written had certain prerequisites. It had to be a drama, be up to 12 pages – but no longer, be set at a weekend getaway, and have a forager as one of the characters.
TRIGGER WARNING: This short screenplay deals with the subjects of murder, mourning, and suicide. Parts of it are graphic and might be disturbing. Do not read it, if you think it might upset you. There are other pieces to read on this site.
A traumatized woman planning a devastating weekend getaway, meets a soul collector who lures her into his world to redeem her.
FADE IN:
EXT. BEACH – DAY (EARLY MORNING)
It is low tide.
A fit 30s Y.O. woman, MIRIAM wanders by the breaking swell of dying waves, alone. She bends and picks something up.
It’s an abalone shell covered in sand and seaweed.
She gazes at it, sighs deeply, then rinses the shell in the sediment filled waters as the undertow roils back against the shell, tugging at her hand, arm, and legs. The current sucks the sand away from under her feet, making it disappear like a magic trick.
Miriam, steps aside, She inspects the deep imprints of her feet and toes the backwash made attesting to the dangerous riptides at this locale. She sighs again, nods her head satisfied. She lays the shell gently upon others in her tight mesh collection bag.
Miriam is wearing faded jeans rolled up at the ankles, a horizontal blue striped cream long sleeve shirt, and an open faded jean jacket also rolled up at the wrists.
She takes one step.
Another wave crashes and drags against her ankles leaving them covered with sand as it returns to the ocean. She picks up a light fracturing piece of sea glass too small for her bag, rinses it. Miriam stands, holds it up to the sunlight, chuckles, then dissolves in tears, broken. She bends over slamming her hands against her knees, gasping for breath. She slips the glass remnant of another time into her jacket pocket, as she forces herself to straighten up.
A tall man 50s Y.0., RONI, athletic, with brutally sun-dried blonde hair recognizes her distress from afar and jogs toward Miriam. He appears to have a tattoo on his arm. His collection bag bounces up and down against his thigh as he gets closer to her.
RONI (signaling, yelling) Are you alright?
Miriam sees him, jumps in terror like a startled cat and sprints off the beach.
INT. HOTEL/LOBBY – MOMENTS LATER
Miriam panting rushes through the hotel door and up to the reception clerk ALICE.
ALICE (uneasy) Mrs Bloom are you O.K.? What’s wrong?
MIRIAM BLOOM (distraught) A man on the beach. A bum. Blonde giant.
ALICE Oh that’s Roni. Everyone knows him. He’s an angel. You don’t have to worry about him. He’s around all the time. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Miriam nods and heads to the elevator.
MIRIAM (still catching her breath) Thanks.
INT. HOTEL/MIRIAM’S ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Miriam lays her suitcase on the bed, opens it and digs inside. She grabs a bottle of prescription medication.
MIRIAM (talking to herself) There you are.
She notices a ripped navy blouse and picks it up. Under it is a photograph of a man and a very little girl. She loses control dropping the bottle back into the suitcase. Miriam slides down to the floor pressing her face on the side of the bed.
EXT. BEACH – DAY (AN HOUR LATER)
Miriam drifts onto the beach, spies Roni and salutes with one hand. She hikes on hot sand, sandals dangling from the other hand. She approaches him.
MIRIAM (Screaming) Roni!
RONI (amused) Do I know ya?
MIRIAM (changing the subject) I can’t believe how hot the sand is this early in the day. It’s not even Spring yet.
RONI (pressing) I thought you were afraid of me. Have me met? How do you know my name?
MIRIAM (avoiding his eyes) I thought you might be a murderer.
RONI How do you know I’m not?
MIRIAM Alice from the Hotel told me about you. Besides it wouldn’t really matter anyway.
RONI It wouldn’t matter?!
MIRIAM Never mind. I’m Miriam, my friends call me Miri.
RONI Let’s walk by the water, it’s easier on the feet.
They walk to the waters end and stroll down the beach. Roni hunts for more shells.
MIRIAM The tide’s coming in, will you find anything?
RONI (stopping) I just found this Abalone shell before you got here.
Roni extracts the shell from his bag. It is marvelous, like a fire opal.
RONI (CONT’D) What kind of shells did you find earlier?
MIRIAM (smiling for a change) Let’s see… an abalone, but nothing like that one, a couple of small conch, and a tiny starfish. It feels odd to pick them up when they’re dead.
RONI (looking in her eyes) Miri, what did you mean it wouldn’t matter if I was a murderer?
Miriam starts walking again.
MIRIAM I grew up nearby. My Mom still has the house. It’s about a mile from here.
RONI Well why didn’t you stay with her instead of at the hotel?
MIRIAM Haven’t been able to talk to her since the funeral.
Roni touches Miriam’s shoulder. She jerks, then settles down.
RONI What happened?
MIRIAM (forcing speech) My husband Abe and my 4 year old daughter Estee were murdered three weeks ago. We were on the way home from Mom’s house…
EXT. HIGH SPEED TRAIN PLATFORM – DAY (LATE AFTERNOON)/FLASHBACK
Miriam’s husband ABE 30s Y.O. fit, handsome, wearing a kippah, is standing on the train platform a couple of feet back from the edge. He is clasping his 4 Y.O. daughter ESTEE’S hand. She has a huge lollipop in the other. Miriam is a step back from them. She is unfolding a train schedule trying to keep a canvas satchel from falling off her shoulder at the same time. A tall man charges between her and her family. His face is hidden by a long brim sports team cap, and dried out dyed blonde hair sticking out from under it. She catches sight of his chin – unshaven, scruffy, his lips sneering.
Everything unfolds in SLOW MOTION. The man raises both his arms. With one he pushes Miriam backwards, and she observes a tattoo of a rattlesnake skimming the vein on his wrist and forearm. With the other he pushes her husband and daughter to the train tracks. Abe’s eyes search Miri’s face. Turning to Estee he lets go of her hand with hope that she will not follow him onto the tracks. Miri is frozen, falling backwards. She tries to right herself, it’s impossible.
The LADY behind her catches her. The train rushes into the station. Little Estee seizes Abe’s pants to pull him back, she throws her lollipop away so can use two hands. Too late anyway. They are both in the air flying off the platform.
ESTEE (screaming) Daddy! Daddy!
The train hits them. POP! THUD. SNAP. It grinds to a SCREECHING halt. Each sound vibrates in Miri’s heart.
The CROWD steps back, emitting a collective YOWL.
VARIOUS CROWD MEMBERS (disgust, alarm) Oh!/Oh my God!/Help!/No!/Police!
Miriam rights herself, sneaks past a COUPLE wrapped in each others arms. The train is blocking her view.
The CONDUCTOR gets out and scrutinizes the underside of the train. He backs away then pauses to recover. He clambers up on to the platform.
CONDUCTOR (booming) Everyone back! Back up!
The AIR HORN BLOWS. The train reverses slowly.
Miri distinguishes Abe. His head is crushed. Linear dents in his body meet his spine. His mangled torso flipped on it’s side reaching for his daughter. Estee is cut in half, her tiny fist still clutching her Daddy’s pants.
Several POLICEMEN are running past chasing after the murderer.
A WOMAN points at Miriam. One POLICEMAN draws Miri back from the platform rim. She can’t understand what he is saying, his voice echos. Her vision is blurry, she glimpses him through a fog.
POLICEMAN (gently, quietly) Ma’am. Ma’am. Come with me. Let’s sit down. We’ll get a cup of tea. You can talk to me. You’re not alone.
BACK TO SCENE
MIRIAM (not fully present yet) At least she had his pants.
Roni folds Miri in his arms.
RONI (whispering) You’re in shock.
Miriam sobs on Roni’s chest. She extracts herself from his arms.
MIRIAM I have to go.
RONI Stay with me. I can help you.
MIRIAM (scoffs) No one can help me. Life is over now. There’s nothing left. My heart is broken. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t breathe.
RONI (probing) If you thought I might be the murderer, why did you come back?
MIRIAM (Exploding) Because it doesn’t matter. When I first saw you across the sand with your tortured blond hair and your arm tattoo, you looked like him.
RONI That was seaweed. Our people don’t do tattoos.
Miri stares at him, then rolls up both his sleeves. There is no tattoo.
MIRIAM If you killed me, I wouldn’t have to kill myself.
Roni secures Miri by her shoulders.
RONI (undone) Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. Don’t even think that. Life is a gift. I can help you.
Roni peers into Miri’s eyes for a shift, there is none.
RONI (CONT’D) (diverting) What about your mother? You never mentioned your father. Is she all alone? After all she’s lost her granddaughter and her son in law, and her daughter won’t speak to her…. How do you think she will feel when the police knock on her door to tell her, her daughter is dead?
MIRIAM (defiantly) They found an empty opioid bottle, some shells and a suicide note in Miriam’s car.
RONI (stunned) Is that your plan. To die of an overdose?
MIRIAM Actually I am going to take an entire bottle of the stuff, wait until I’m drowsy and then get swallowed up by the riptide.
RONI (sarcastic) Oh, that’ll be even better. You’ll be missing, presumed dead. Your Mom’ll have to suffer until your body washes up somewhere so she can identify you. Nice.
MIRIAM What do you know?!
Miriam turns to leave.
MIRIAM (CONT’D) (threatening) I’ll be back later.
EXT. BEACH – AFTERNOON
Roni is waiting for Miri. He is sitting on a blanket close to the swash. The wind blows sea spray on his face. There is a thermos next to him. He is praying. Gulls, Cormorants, and Oyster Catchers fly around him checking him out. The sun changes position in the sky. The shadows change. Afternoon slips into evening. He remains.
EXT. BEACH – EVENING
The sun is setting splashing color on the dark water. Miri walks over to Roni. He gets up and holds her in his arms. His hand brushes her pocket. He feels the pill bottle, removes it and dumps the capsules in the sand. He reads the bottle. It says Abe Bloom.
Miri is incensed. She beats Roni’s chest screaming.
MIRIAM No, no, no! No, no, no, no!
Miri explodes into tears.
MIRIAM (CONT’D) How could you do that to me?!
She stomps around in circles around the dusty capsules. She bends over and tries to sift some through her fingers. It’s useless, they’re all covered in sand – impossible to swallow. She glares at Roni.
MIRIAM (CONT’D) And the birds, you’ll kill the birds!
RONI Don’t worry about the birds now.
Roni carefully removes a paper bag from his jacket. He dumps sunflower seeds in the sand, then picks up all the capsules and puts them in the sack. He gently folds the top over twice and stashes it in his inside pocket. He scrutinizes the bottle again.
RONI (CONT’D) (teasing) This medicine isn’t even yours. It belonged to Abe. You know you’re not supposed to take someone else’s meds. I could call the cops on you.
Miri regards Roni. She SNORTS.
MIRIAM (furious) What’ll they do to me when I’m dead?!
RONI (gently) I was hoping you’d changed your mind.
MIRIAM Fat chance, that. Who are those seeds for? Seabirds don’t eat seeds.
RONI They were for the birds at the camp site, but in my experience seagulls will eat anything. They’re always pestering me for my breakfast.
Roni brushes a string of hair away from Miri’s eyes.
RONI (CONT’D) How about we go back to my place and I make us a pot of tea?
MIRIAM (incredulous) What is up with everybody and tea? You’d think we live in London or something. I’d much rather have a Cappuccino.
EXT. RONI’S TENT – NIGHT
Ronni and Miriam are drinking tea in front of a small fire. Occasionally a spark floats up in the air turning to ash. There are hundreds of Monarch butterflies sleeping on the tree trunks and the branches. It’s as if they’re the leaves. Miri admires them.
MIRIAM The Monarchs don’t seem afraid.
RONI They’re safe here. It’s their refuge.
MIRIAM Is that why I’m here?
RONI I can help you. I collect shells. I also collect souls. If someone rests their soul in my shell, I take it to the ocean and cleanse it, and then bring it back to them. The person must be the one to present their soul in the shell though. I can’t do it for them.
MIRIAM How can I trust you? I don’t even know you. You could be Satan trying to lure me into a trap. Stop me from killing myself and promising me anything while overpowering me, stealing my soul and forcing me to do your bidding.
RONI (laughing) That’s quite the twisted excuse. First time I heard that one…. It doesn’t hurt. Think about it. Miriam falls asleep by the fire. She dreams.
EXT. CEMETERY – DAY/DREAM FLASHBACK
Miri is dressed in a ripped navy blouse, and skirt. She is standing in front of an open grave. Her MOTHER is next to her. They are surrounded by FRIENDS, extended FAMILY, COWORKERS, and Estee’s friends’ PARENTS. Abe and Estee are in the same grave. Miri picks up the shovel, scoops up some earth and drops it on the coffins. She hands it to her mother who repeats. Her mother hands the shovel to ABE’S MOTHER. EVERYONE takes turns and fills the grave. Miri’s Mom puts her arm around Miri, but she pulls away. Miri closes her eyes.
MIRIAM Mom, I can’t be touched right now. I won’t be able to keep it together.
Miriam’s mother weeps, isolated. Miriam watches her Mother’s heart sinking down inside her body.
EXT. RONI’S TENT – BEFORE DAWN/FLASH OFF
Miriam jerks awake shaking. She places her hands on her own pounding heart.
MIRIAM I can’t believe what I did to my mother.
Roni scoots over to Miri, carrying the Fire Opal Abalone shell and some Frankincense. He tosses the spice on the embers and the sweet smell passes over them. He offers the seashell to Miri. She takes it.
RONI (pointing) Reveal your soul here… Twist despair and anguish from your heart like you’re pulling taffy. Then yank it out. The shell is prepared.
MIRIAM What if I die without a soul?
RONI You won’t die. It’s your emotional soul, not who you are.
MIRIAM What if my soul slips in the ocean and the surf carries it off?
RONI That can’t happen, your soul is attached to you.
MIRIAM What if I forget?
RONI You’ll never forget.
MIRIAM Is this real or a prank?
RONI You tell me.
Miri wrests the anguish from her heart bit by bit, and places all of it in the shell. When done she passes out instantaneously.
EXT. BEACH – DAWN
Roni examines the Abalone shell. It’s dark and gray, the fiery opalescence shadowed, invisible. He lowers the shell into the ocean allowing the waves to wash over it. He prays. Roni raises the shell. There is a small bright light inside. He begins the walk back to his tent. The sun is rising and the light of Miri’s soul is growing. It’s dazzling.
EXT. RONI’S TENT – SUNRISE
The Monarchs’ wings are struck by sunlight. They quiver.
Roni lays the shell on Miri’s belly. It rises and falls with her breath. The light jumps up and dives into her heart like a Dolphin playing. She wakes up. Pearls of joy emerge from her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.
A Monarch Butterfly alights on Miriam’s knee. Roni beams. Miri giggles.
A flash crosses Miriam’s face. She rifles her jacket for her phone. She finds it, dials.
MIRIAM Mamma, it’s Miri… how about I bring you breakfast?
lystigres.wordpress.com 