

The Walnuts

Published by Ron Zastre at Smashwords

Copyright 2004 Ron Zastre

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedications

Ron Zastre

To the memory of Emerson LaGrange who never hesitated to tell anyone, I was twice as good as I really was.

To June, who did her own thing better than anyone.

To Robin who sat with me many, many hours as we laughed and reminisced about the characters and the antics, and then helped again after it was written.

To Holly, Denny, Linda, and Bonny who should recognize the characters.

Robin LaGrange

To my parents, Emerson and June. Though you are gone, you're not forgotten. Your humor and lust for life lives on in the pages of this book. Everyone that came into contact with you wanted to be a Walnut. That's the legacy you left behind. Rest in peace Mom and Dad.

Prelude

Seg Thouge reluctantly signed a contract to write a story about far away Earth. His planet had been sending people there for a few years to study the primitive society which was about 3,000 years behind theirs. Seg, however, was the first journalist to make the trip.

Seg's people were busy exploring their solar system, but interstellar travel was still beyond their technology. Some years hence, they had been contacted by a very advanced race of strange little humanoids, 'The Travelers.' Now, if they wished to go between the star systems, they could book passage on The Travelers's galactic transports.

Seg perfected his English on the long voyage with the Travelers, but didn't realize that his thoughts were not entirely his. By the time he arrived at Earth, his contempt for their haughty attitude was well-known aboard their ship.

Chapter 1

Far from any city lights, the stars sparkled with intense clarity over a dense forest. Below the thick canopy of trees it was pitch black, and the sounds of night were prevalent—an owl hooting, frogs croaking, and crickets adding their night song. A gentle wind rustling the leaves completed the peaceful night setting.

*

Suddenly, the owl stopped its calling, the frogs went silent, and the insects hushed. Then the wind died. Something was descending on the forest.

*

With an unworldly, overpowering screech, a shaft of deep blue light stabbed the earth from two hundred feet in the air, destroying the serenity. A deep, rhythmic hum accompanied the light and permeated the darkness. From the source of the bright shaft came the hissing sound of machinery opening and then quickly slamming shut. A brighter orb of light rapidly descended inside the deep blue shaft. It struck the ground and bounced once, dissipating, leaving a man lying on his back in a cloud of dust. The shaft of light blinked off with another screech. A sudden downward blast of hot air forced the man to cover himself.

Two bright headlights snapped on in the dark, illuminating the man lying in the dirt. The man stood up, shielding his eyes from the intense light with one hand, while smacking dust off his tattered and worn looking clothes with the other. He was a middle aged, slender built man, in-descriptive except for a couple of twigs entwined in his dusty, windblown hair.

"Are you here for me?" the man yelled hopefulness in his voice.

"If I'm not," a voice yelled back, "do you have a backup plan?"

"No."

"How did you manage to annoy the Travelers?" the voice asked, moving in front of the car lights, heading toward the man.

"I do not know, but they are so sensitive."

"Were you briefed on their mind-reading capabilities?" The voice was getting closer.

"Ah, so that is what happened." The man sighed. "Why do we have to tolerate their indignation?"

"We can't go as fast or as far as they can." The voice was nearly upon him. "You wouldn't want to spend three life time's just getting here, would you?" A tall, handsome man walked up and offered his hand. "My name is Ray Camper. And what are you here for?"

"You have not been told?"

"No, I was only informed of your arrival and told to prepare identification. You're now John Helms." Ray looked at John with amusement. "So, John, what brings you to Earth?"

"I am to write a story about the culture."

"Really? Who sent you on this, ah, quest?" asked Ray, a chuckle in his voice.

"My editor. Do you have any suggestions?"

"There's so many different cultures here it would be difficult to define one. Your editor—he doesn't like you, does he?"

"He thinks I am lucky."

"You don't look lucky to me."

"I get the most out of my material." John shot back, sounding annoyed.

"Ah, lucky or good? I'll bet you got this assignment to see how far you can press either one."

"I know that," John replied. "Look," John pleaded, "I must have a story and I do not want to spend any more time here than necessary."

"Sorry, there's not much I can do to help you."

"What do I do now?"

"How am I supposed to know? I was just told to arrange for your arrival. But . . ."—Ray looked at John and laughed—"look, there's some people I've gotten to know, but I'm not sure you're ready for them. What preparation have you had?"

John shrugged. "I have a good grasp of the language."

"That's it? They're still very primitive when it comes to centralization," replied Ray. "Like I said, there's probably a couple hundred different cultures here."

"I was not aware."

"Are you aware there are multiple religions too?"

"Oh! They do not get along at all then?"

"Not in the least." Ray smiled. "And they still have lawyers."

"Oh my! Are they really that primitive?"

"Well, this planet is still into enterprise."

John seemed confused. "But a society cannot survive with enterprise as its goal. The priorities become convolute, and the basic responsibilities suffer. A system that prioritizes enterprise will eventually poison itself."

Ray laughed. "Welcome to Earth."

"Oh gosh." John's shoulders slumped. "What can I do?"

"I don't know," Ray said. "I guess maybe your best shot might be the Walnuts."

"Walnuts? What could I write about a tree?"

"No, dummy, it's that family I know. They're a little out of the norm, so a fool like you might just blend in."

"Why are you insulting me?"

"I'm conditioning you," said Ray. "Forget the prim and proper because this is Earth and it is populated by barbarians, and you will constantly be assaulted with disrespect and innuendoes."

Chapter 2

"Well, good luck with this, you're probably going to need it," Ray said to John, while knocking on the front door of a residence shaded by a large leafy tree.

From inside the door a loud female voice approached.

"You little snot! You listen when I tell you something!" yelled the woman. "I know all about men and what they're up to, and you don't know diddly squat!"

"Am not!" responded a different female. "And if you know so much about men, how come Grandpa refers to all yours as chapters?"

"Because he's a turd-face," exclaimed the first voice. The door opened and a beautiful woman that looked to be in her early thirties was standing there. She had a long, luxurious, chestnut colored pony tail, a slim, sexy figure, and a wonderful smile.

"Ray Camper, you dirty dog. We haven't seen you around much, but at least you do call . . . occasionally. What's up?"

"Not much, Danielle. I want to introduce you to the writer I called about." Ray gestured to John who was standing back. "Are you still going to take that trip?"

"Yeah, I've got to get away for a while because I'm going nuts."

Danielle looked at John. "Is this him?"

"Yes, Danielle, this is Helms."

An attractive teenage girl walked up behind Danielle. She had shorter blonde hair, but the same brown eyes and pouty lips as Danielle.

"What do you want, buddy?" the teenager asked John, eyeing him intently over Danielle's shoulder. "He's not living here, Mother."

"Oh, hush up, you little snot."

"Am not!" returned the girl.

"Heather, he's just a friend of Camper's. He just moved here and he wants to write a book and make some new friends."

Heather scowled at John. "He's got a really strange look in his eyes—probably another weirdo."

"You little snot, go clean your room."

"Not!"

"I'm sick of you being an arse to everyone!"

"Another friggin weirdo. Geez Camper where did you dig him up, and where did he get those clothes?" Heather rolled her eyes and stomped off.

"Don't mind her, guys. Come in. I'm not dressed yet, but make yourselves at home." Danielle smiled at John. "So, you're a writer. Where are you from, Helms? God, that's a stuffy name. They call you anything else?"

"John."

"John Helms? Oh, that's original," scoffed Danielle, cocking her head suspiciously, her hands on her hips. "Sounds like someone made it up. So, where are you from, John Helms?"

John hesitated, so Camper cut in. "He's from Montana."

"Joohhnn from Moonnttaaannaaa," said Danielle, bleating like a sheep.

"I do not understand," replied John.

Danielle laughed. "Montana, where the men are men and the sheep are nervous."

John looked confused.

Danielle tried again. "Montana, where they practice safe sex by tagging the sheep that kick?"

John looked to Camper for help.

"You haven't heard that one either?" she asked.

"No, what does it mean?" asked John.

She gave Camper a concerned look.

"Well," Camper explained. "He wasn't in Montana that long."

"Can he talk for himself, or what?"

"He's really shy."

Heather came back into the room to chime in. "Or really stupid."

"I told you to be gone!" Danielle yelled. "And stop insulting people."

"Oh, he's perfect," Heather said, leaving the room again. "Mother always gets the ones that are half cracked, and then she finishes them off."

Danielle looked directly at John. "Which is it, John Helms?"

"Which what?" he asked.

"Are you from Montana, or what?"

"I have been there . . . and other places."

"Where are you from originally?"

"Ahm, it would be hard to explain," John fumbled.

"Camper!" Danielle turned quickly to Ray, her hands on her hips again. "Who is this guy?" What the hell are you trying to pull here?"

"He's been out of the country for a long time," Ray said, hoping this would satisfy her. It clearly hadn't so he changed the subject. "John studies religions."

"You two are up to something. Look, I don't care if you're on some weird mission, that's your business, but I have a daughter to worry about. Don't be bringing any crap into my life!"

"I will not cause any problems, I promise you," John said. "If I seem uncooperative, it is because I have a contract to write a story."

"That's what Camper said. What kind of story? You want to hang around to get material, that's it?" asked Danielle.

"Yes, Camper said your family is very colorful."

"Well, you might have come to the right place, because The Walnuts definitely have a story to tell."

"You do not mind if I observe you?"

"I don't know, it might be cute." Danielle smiled, and then gave John a serious look. "But why are you being so elusive?"

"Ahm . . . it is a new approach."

"A new approach, huh?" Danielle scowled, looking sternly at John. "That's covering your ass."

"Yes, it is about a journalist who is not familiar with today's society and is experiencing it for the first time." John smiled. "So I am trying to be elusive to place myself in the right state of mind."

"I told you he was a weirdo!" Heather yelled from another room.

"You little snot!" Danielle shouted back. "Mind your own business or you are going to be grounded for another week. You got me?"

"Not!" Heather yelled. "And, good, I want to stay home anyway."

"You're going tonight, so knock it off."

Heather came back into the room. "Oh great, the old-fart gathering."

"Knock it off, you're going. You haven't seen Grandpa for a while and he adores you. You should be thankful at least someone likes you."

"I had a date tonight, but thanks to you—"

"You're not going out on dates yet! We've already settled this. You're too young."

"Oh, F you Mother!" Heather stormed out of the room.

"You shut the F up, you little potty mouth!"

Danielle recomposed herself and turned to John and Camper.

"Damn kids! John, you got any?"

"No."

"You're lucky. They think their only purpose is making everyone's life miserable with their continual crap."

"She seems frustrated about something," said John.

"Yeah, the poor thing is dripping hormones."

"I do not know what you mean?"

"Oh, come on. You don't know anything about teenagers?"

"Not enough, it seems."

"Well, stick around; this one is a laugh a minute."

"I would like to associate with a typical family for my book."

"Typical?" Danielle laughed. "Well, if you can handle it, we're going to a party at my parents' neighbors place tonight, then up north for a couple of weddings tomorrow. A goofy couple my parents know are getting married. Then, we're going right to my sister's wedding. She's getting married . . . again. You sure you're not a psycho or something?"

"I am not a psycho, but your daughter seems to think I am."

"Oh, she's just giving you the rub. She does that to anyone she doesn't know, especially any guy she thinks might be interested in me. She's a good kid, though, and I do love her dearly. You'll like her when you get to know her, but seriously, you don't know anything about kids? You're not married or anything?"

"Yes, I am married, but I have no children."

"Does your wife know what you're doing now?"

"Yes."

"Good. If your wife knows what you're up to, then it must be okay," Danielle said, cocking her head in confirmation. "Where are you really from? Camper was BS-ing about the religious thing, right?"

"BS-ing?"

"A con job!"

"Oh, I am not here for sex."

"Who said anything about sex?" chuckled Danielle.

"Well, you indicated a con job. Is that not a reference to a sexual act?"

"What the hell are you inferring?" Danielle looked angry.

Ray stepped in. "Oh, I think he got confused. I think he thought you said . . . ah, blow job."

"No, I definitely said con job."

"He gets confused easily," Ray explained.

"No kidding!" Danielle stepped back to look John over. "Who dressed you, by the way?"

"Someone who didn't like him too much," said Ray. "We haven't had a chance to get him some decent clothes."

"Where the hell did you come from?" Danielle asked, feeling the cloth on John's sleeve. "This stuff is out of date by a hundred years!"

"I do not really know how to explain, except to say I am not from any place that you would be familiar with."

"You speak excellent English, but I can't place the accent. It's actually 'too' proper. What are you up to, John?"

"I told you. I am a writer. I am telling the truth."

"But where are you from? . . . I'll bet I can guess."

"If you can guess correctly, I will confirm it. I promise."

Danielle squinted at him for a moment but gave up. "You swine. I'll figure you out, John Helms. I can guarantee you that."

"Why are you known as the Walnuts?"

"That's what everyone calls our family."

"Walnuts, like in the term for nutty?"

"Yeah, that's us. My dad's lawyer came up with the moniker a long time ago. Everyone, and I mean, everyone, wants to be around us because there's never a dull moment. Everybody wants to be a Walnut," Danielle declared proudly.

"How did this happen?"

"My father made a lot of money so my parents have always had enough to do what they want, and they don't give a damn what anyone thinks. The Walnuts just do their thing. They have a big, beautiful ranch, called Rancho de Los Retardos. I told you, we're going to a party at the neighbors' tonight where you'll get to meet them, but just remember one thing—"

"What is that?"

Danielle laughed. "People beware."

"What does that mean?"

"It means watch out for Grandma, the 'queen,'" said Heather, returning. "Camper can tell you."

"Just hope she takes a liking to you," said Ray.

"Yeah, you'll get to meet my mother, the queen," said Danielle. "She's an extremely pushy, take-charge individual, but luckily, she does have a sense of humor . . . and timing." She grinned at Ray. "Camper made a big impression on her, didn't you, stud?"

"Hey, she started it."

"And, she also finished it, if I remember correctly," Danielle boasted. "He stays clear of her now."

Ray shrugged.

"You come from the same place as Camper?" Heather asked John.

"Yes."

"Ah, huh! Heather looked at Ray. "You two know each other from before."

"No, we just met, but we work for the same people," said Ray.

Heather looked serious. "So, John, you've come a really long way just to write a book?"

"Yes, I have."

"And you want to write about the Walnuts?"

"Yes, that would be nice, if you do not mind?"

"I don't mind," said Heather, "just as long as I don't end up looking like a nut job, like the rest of them. They're all crazy, you know."

"My dear, John will be honest, I promise," Camper said, putting his arm around her shoulder.

Chapter 3

"Uh oh, Babad Bob is here," Heather said, looking out the front window. "He's not going to be happy seeing Camper."

"Who is Babad Bob?" asked John.

"Oh, just Mother's psycho boyfriend," said Heather.

"Maybe we should go?"

"Baloney. You're our friends, and Bob will just have to deal with it." Heather left to answer the door.

"Get out your notepad, this guy is really something." Ray winked at John.

Bob stormed in, took one look at Camper, and snorted in disgust.

"What do you want?" asked Danielle, annoyed.

"I have some unfinished business," Bob declared, stomping through the front room headed for the bedrooms.

Danielle stayed in the kitchen with John and Ray while Heather went back to her bedroom.

*

Heather shouted from the hall a few minutes later: "My God, he's got a knife!"

"Oh damn, I should have kept an eye on him," said Danielle, heading quickly to Heather.

"What the hell is going on?" Danielle yelled, rounding the corner into her bedroom.

"Babad Bob is attacking the fuzzy bush!" Heather pointed to the backyard through the sliding door. The yard was confined by a seven-foot masonry wall.

Everyone rushed to the slider to see Bob with a butcher's knife in his hand. He was in a frenzy, chopping at a ten-foot-tall bush covered with large, white, fuzzy seeds. Bob and the air around the bush were encompassed in a white, cottony down.

"Bob!" shouted Danielle. "You leave that bush alone!"

He continued to hack away.

"Bob!" she shouted louder, going into the backyard.

He continued to chop at the bush, ignoring her.

She marched up to him and slapped him on the back of the head to get his attention. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm not going to have any more of my evenings ruined by this bush!" shouted Bob, not slowing his attack.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," she said, "so you got a couple of fuzzies on your jacket. It certainly didn't ruin your evening."

"I'm concerned about my appearance, you know that," he huffed, still slashing branches with the knife. "First impressions are very important."

"What kind of first impression does this make?" Danielle burst out laughing. "Acting like a maniac?"

"I don't care what your boyfriend thinks."

"He's not my boyfriend," she said like she was tired of the implication.

Bob stopped the attack and was breathing hard. His face was red and sweaty, making the fuzz stick. It was matted in his hair and jammed behind his glasses. He was totally covered down to his waist. From behind him, the sun was shining through the fuzz, giving him an unearthly look. Some of the fuzz had worked its way into his nose, so he gave a hefty snort, causing some of it to float away, sparkling in the sun.

"Bob, you've never looked so good," Heather declared. "Don't move. Let me get my camera."

"That's it!" Bob proclaimed, thrusting his right hand with the index finger extended into the air. "I will not allow myself to be ridiculed!"

Danielle laughed. "Too late for that."

"I'm going to take a shower," he announced, heading toward the sliding door.

"Like hell, mister," said Danielle. She stepped in front of Bob to cut off his route to the bedroom. "You aren't coming in like that. I've spent all morning cleaning."

"What do you expect me to do?"

Danielle tried to look at him sternly, but he looked like the abominable snowman, covered in all the fuzz and she started laughing again. "Go home, Bob. It's already the fuzzy bush two, you zip."

"This should be my home," he said, pouting.

"Well, it's not, thank God," Heather said. She had returned with her camera and started clicking happily away. "Could you turn a little to the right?"

"As usual, we have some important issues to resolve, and you two make a joke about it," Bob growled, turning and heading toward the side wall. "I'm going home! I know when I'm not wanted!"

He reached the wall and pulled himself up with his arms, huffing and cursing. He struggled to grip the rough stone with his tennis shoes, but failed and fell back, swearing under his breath. He stepped back three paces, eyed his objective, and took a run at the wall, this time managing to get his elbows and lower arms on the top. He struggled to maintain his hold for a moment as Heather ran over, still taking pictures. With a final curse and a grunt, he pulled himself completely up and over the wall. Another grunt and a curse announced his landing on the other side.

"These are some great pics," said Heather.

"I wish you'd refrain from continually making fun of poor Bob," Danielle told her before heading inside.

"But it's so easy."

Ray and John had been watching the incident from inside the sliding glass doors.

"I guess Bob wasn't too happy that I'm here," Ray said as Danielle passed them.

"Yeah, that usually sets him right off," she said over her shoulder and left the bedroom.

*

They had just returned to the front room when they heard rapid, high-pitched barking from the neighbor's yard, followed by a loud shriek.

"Snickerdoodle's got him!" Heather yelled.

The four of them ran out the front door just as Bob's head and hands appeared at the top of the neighbor's wall. His glasses were crooked, and his face was still covered with fuzz.

"Aaaaauuuuuggghh!" Bob looked terrified as the dog's vicious barking continued from behind the wall he was frantically trying to scale.

"Tear his ass up, Snickerdoodle!" yelled Heather.

"Yaaaooooowww!" he shrieked again, when Snickerdoodle got in a good solid strike. This gave Bob a second wind. He pulled his upper body on top of the wall, where he rested a second, thinking he had reached safety. Then he let out another "Yaaaooooowww!" and with little regard for his landing, flung his entire body over the wall with a flip. Attached to his left pant leg was a small black-and-white dog. The dog lost its grip and was whipped through the air by Bob's cartwheel. It sailed fifteen feet through the air and landed hard on the grass, tumbling four or five times before coming to rest next to a swimming pool.

Bob landed heavily on his shoulder, but the grass was soft enough to take most of the shock. He rolled over and lay on his back. Then he pulled himself up, leaning on his elbows.

Both Bob and the dog were shaking their heads. They looked like they were trying to clear their thoughts, trying to get a read on the situation, both trying to decide what to do next.

"Little bastard," Bob growled, "I ought to—"

His threat was stopped short by a menacing growl from Snickerdoodle.

"Uh oh!" yelled Bob, trying to scramble to his feet, which made the dog charge. He screamed again as the little dog rushed him.

"Don't you hurt Snickerdoodle!" yelled Heather.

Bob only managed to stand up halfway before the dog grabbed the front of his shirt with its teeth. It whipped its head back and forth with blinding speed.

"Aaaaauuuuuggghh!" Bob yelped.

He grabbed the dog hanging from his shirt and tried to pry it away from him, but the dog wouldn't let go. He took off running with Snickerdoodle working his shirt to ruins.

He took four running strides to the pool and then launched himself into the air. His feet hit the water first, his legs still pumping. He was stretched out at a forty-five-degree angle, and his chest—Snickerdoodle still firmly attached—smacked the water hard, followed by his face, which hit even harder.

There was another splash when Heather dove into the pool almost on top of Bob and the dog. She came to the surface almost immediately with Snickerdoodle firmly in her grasp.

Bob tried to straighten his tattered shirt while calmly wading to the steps leading out of the pool.

Heather was comforting Snickerdoodle, who was shaken by the plunge.

Bob placidly climbed the steps and exited the water, calmly walking away from the pool, his movement a little shaky, water cascading off his clothes, his shoes squishing against the concrete. He reached into his back pocket and extracted his soggy wallet. "I'm going home now," he declared, passing John and Camper. He walked by Danielle. "I'll call you about this evening," he said, like nothing had happened, and continued squishing down the sidewalk.

"Well, John," Ray said, watching Bob squish and drip down the sidewalk. "What do you think of Babad Bob?"

John looked bewildered.

"John, you haven't seen anything yet," Ray commented nonchalantly.

*

No one had really noticed the pool man, who had been there the whole time. He was cursing under his breath, watching a raft of white fuzzies form on the surface of the pool he had just cleaned. However, the sour look on his face changed to one of longing when his eyes locked on Danielle.

*

The four sat at Danielle's dining room table.

"So, John, you still want to go along tonight? I can guarantee something to write about," Danielle said.

"Is Bob going?" he asked.

"Hell no!" Danielle and Heather said in unison. They looked at each other and laughed.

"Nobody in our family can deal with him," Danielle said.

"He'd ruin the whole trip," added Heather.

"Then why do you consider him your boyfriend?" asked John.

"Oh, Bob's okay if you keep him away from my family," said Danielle.

"And he's a sales rep for a big company and travels a lot," added Heather. "She's in it for all the trips."

"I am not. You make me sound so mercenary. I'm truly fond of Bob, and he does nice things for you too, snot."

"Not! And I didn't say I didn't like him. It's just that you never know what's going to set him off. You guys saw what happened today."

"Yeah, that was nothing out of the ordinary for Babad Bob," Danielle confessed.

There was a knock at the door. Heather got up to answer it.

"So, are you in?" Danielle asked John.

John looked at Ray.

"It'll be good for you," said Ray. "It'll get you started off in the right direction."

"Yes, I think I would enjoy spending more time with the Walnuts," said John.

"You don't just spend time with the Walnuts," said Danielle. "You're either up to it or you're out, quickly, but if you're in, then you're in over your head."

"This is true," Ray confirmed.

"Okay, it starts with the party tonight. I'm going to see if my friend Gigi wants to go. She called this morning with nothing to do."

"Oh, don't do that to John," Ray said seriously.

"Gigi?" Heather walked back to the table followed by a short, stocky guy that was fidgeting. "Why did you mention Gigi?"

"I thought John might enjoy a little company, that's all," replied Danielle.

"Mother, Gigi isn't company, she's someone to do."

"Oh hush, snot," said Danielle. "Oh, hi, Ferkle, what's up?"

"Not!" said Heather.

"I just brought you some more jokes," Ferkle said, looking at Ray and John with displeasure. "My Internet friends keep me well-supplied, you know."

"Yes, they do. Sit down; take a load off your feet."

"Oh no, I'm much too busy with my business. I don't have time for idleness." He looked again at Ray and John with disappointment and shook his head. "It's difficult when you have to work and others don't."

"Well, I for one think that work is overrated," Danielle said.

"Oh!" Ferkle jumped back. "I, ah . . . I . . . I didn't mean you!" Ferkle looked absolutely terrified. "I mean others . . . I mean someone as beautiful as you shouldn't have to work, I mean—"

"Oh, for . . ." Heather finally cut him off. "You stepped on your dick, now take it like a man and—"

"Heather!" shouted Danielle.

"Mother, he tried to insult Camper and John, and then butter you up."

"He did no such thing!"

Ferkle seemed whole again hearing Danielle defend him.

"Mother, you were blinded by flattery, as usual."

Chapter 4

Danielle, Heather, John and Gigi, a dark haired, blue eyed, sultry beauty, were riding in Danielle's car, Danielle driving.

"Are you sure me going out to the ranch is a good idea?" Gigi asked.

"Oh, Mother doesn't hold grudges," said Danielle.

"What?" Heather cut in loudly. "Are you kidding? Are we talking about the same person here?"

"Oh, Mother was plastered. She won't remember Gigi." Danielle then explained to John. "There was a little altercation the last time my mother and Gigi met."

"I got confused," said Gigi. "It won't happen again."

"You got drunk," said Heather. "It happens every time."

"Why don't you two try to get along?" asked Danielle.

"We would have to have something in common, right, Mother?"

"I'm sure you can find some common ground," Danielle said.

"You'd be comfortable if I was more like her?" asked Heather.

"Anyway," Danielle continued, "Gigi came for Thanksgiving dinner at my place, last year, and my parents were there with my brother, Ricky, and one of his slutty women. Gigi and this chick got into an argument about who had the best tits. They decided my father should judge the competition, and my mother walked in. Needless to say, she wasn't too happy catching poor old Dad checking the firmness of Gigi's left breast."

"I'll say," said Heather. "I don't think I'd ever seen Grandma that pissed before."

"Poor Jed was just trying to help," added Gigi. "He's such a sweet man."

"His innocence was blinded by his enthusiasm, if I remember correctly," said Danielle. "Just don't get into any anatomy discussions tonight, will you? And for God's sake, if Ricky is there, just try to ignore him. You two cause a lot of problems sometimes."

"He's a pig," exclaimed Gigi.

"Now there's some common ground," Heather added quickly.

Danielle turned back to John. "Now, I want to warn you again, John. My parents, especially my mother, can be tough if you get off on the wrong foot—like Camper did—so don't let her bait you."

"Bait?"

"Yeah," said Heather. "She'll try to get you to say something stupid, and then you're dead meat."

"Dead meat?"

"Mother, this guy doesn't stand a chance."

"Oh, he'll be okay. It's only five o'clock. He'll get in under the dreaded number six deadline."

"He still doesn't stand a chance," said Heather. "First chance she gets, Grandma is going to give him a haircut he'll never forget."

"Haircut?"

"Oh, John, just remember, it's all in good fun," said Danielle.

"Why are your parents so difficult, as you say?" he asked.

"It's just in their nature. They like to test people to see what they're made of."

"People beware?" added John, smiling proudly.

"Yes, you remembered," said Danielle.

Chapter 5

Danielle slowed down to make a turn. "There's my parents' place, down there behind that gate." She started down a lane bordered on the left side by date palms and the right by a tall, thick hedge with bright green trees behind it.

At the end of the lane, large iron gates hung from a tall, wide, arched structure with a red tile roof. A thick belt of green vegetation grew left and right from the gate. Behind it was a large fountain, partly visible, and farther behind, across a large lake, stood a house, surrounded by big trees.

A second gate to their right led to another house. This house was far back from the gate and was covered in vines. Danielle turned right. As they drove up to the gate, a pack of dogs ran out to greet them.

"This is Harold and Madeline's, where the party is." Danielle honked, and a man walked out onto a large, vine-shrouded patio and waved. "That's Harold," she said.

The gate opened automatically and Danielle drove forward, the dog pack scattering to let them through.

"Watch out for the dogs. They'll mob you if you let them," she warned.

When they stopped, Heather was the first one out, the dogs jumping in excitement, surrounding her as she tried to pet each one.

John got out of the car, and a large male dog came toward him. The hair on the dog's neck was sticking up. A deep growl emanated from his throat.

"Hey, Trappy, cool your jets!" yelled Harold, stepping off the patio. He yelled to John, "He's just showing off, so don't worry about him."

John didn't seem a bit concerned. He pursed his lips and Trappy's ears shot up. "We are going to be friends," he told Trappy. The dog, upon hearing John's voice, immediately started wagging its tail.

"You seem to have a way with dogs," said Harold.

"We are all in it together," said John.

"That's a refreshing attitude. Most people don't think that way."

"That is because they have no idea what animals are capable of."

Harold nodded.

Gigi was the dogs' next target. She giggled and bent over to pet one of the smaller ones, which gave Trappy a clear shot at her exposed rear. Trappy rammed his long snout, under her short skirt, right up between her legs.

She shrieked, "Whoa cowboy!" turning, and then shaking her finger at Trappy. "We barely know each other."

"Trappy, you nasty dog," shouted Harold. "That's no way to treat our lady friends."

"He's already figured out she's no lady," added Heather.

"Oh, sweetie, so young and so innocent," Gigi told Heather, while ruffling Trappy's head. "Males don't think with the large brain, that you will learn!"

A tall, good-looking guy, about forty, with a pony tail, and a long Snidely Whiplash mustache that screamed, 'Don't trust this guy,' walked onto the patio. He was wearing shorts, a golf shirt, and was barefooted. He was accompanied by a small, skinny woman with darting eyes and a peculiar facial twitch.

"Uh oh." Heather nudged John in the ribs. "That's my uncle, Ricky, Ricky the Rat," she whispered. "Don't let him talk you into anything, and for God's sake, don't buy anything from him, or give him money for any reason."

"You do not trust your uncle?"

"My Mother let him stay at our place one time, and when she came home from work, he was in her bed having sex with a three-hundred-pound Mexican opera singer."

"Why would that be a reason to not trust him?"

Heather looked at John for a moment. "There's plenty more where that came from."

"Hey, Gigi, how they hanging?" Ricky yelled.

"Not in your direction," she responded.

"I can't imagine why you two don't like each other," said Heather, "after all—"

"Hush, snot," said Danielle.

"Not!"

"Who's your lady friend?" Danielle asked Ricky.

He turned to the strange woman. Her right hand was missing the last two fingers. "This is the Countess of . . ." He nudged the woman with his elbow. "Help me out here, Mulva."

"I am here for my people," she responded in a thick, Russian accent.

"She's the Countess of Her People," said Ricky.

Behind Ricky and the countess came a taller, thinner, handsome older man with thick white hair and soft blue eyes. He had a friendly, honest look about him and was dressed the same as Ricky, except for sandals.

"That's my father, Jed," said Danielle.

He walked down off the patio and up to John and shook John's hand firmly, looking him straight in the eye. "Danielle says you're interested in coming along on our trip?" said Jed seriously. "She says you're new to the area and are doing some writing? I hope what you might witness here doesn't tarnish your impression of everybody you may come across, down the road."

Standing back on the patio was an attractive woman, staring John down.

Danielle whispered to John. "Now, I'll introduce you to my mother. Like I told you, beware."

"John, this is my mother, Martha," she said, pushing him forward.

Martha was a slim woman of average height with a beautiful face, dark brown hair, and a mischievous look in her eyes. Martha walked up to John and was about to extend her hand, but examined his face for a moment instead. "I can't talk to him like this," she declared and went back into the house, leaving everyone outside looking mystified.

John stood, uncertain what to do.

"What was that all about?" Danielle commented.

"Beats me," said Jed.

An old man and woman hobbled onto the patio from inside the house.

"Everyone," said Harold, "I'd like to introduce my aunt, Edna, and Uncle Dick." The two looked ancient and frail.

"My," Uncle Dick said, his old watery eyes falling on Gigi, "you are a sight to an old man's eyes—"

"Now, Dick," said Harold. "Don't upset Edna. You know she hates your roving."

"Ah, she's deaf as all get out," Dick replied, which earned him a feeble smack from Edna.

"Dick ain't what he used to be," squeaked Edna. "Heart's no good."

"Let's all go inside," said Harold, chuckling to himself.

Danielle and John were the last through the door, and there waiting for them was Martha with a small pair of scissors in her hand. She quickly stepped in between them and forced John back against the wall.

"Hold still now, damn it," Martha commanded. She reached up, grabbed his chin, and proceeded to trim the hairs out of his nose.

"Mother!" laughed Danielle, with a surprised look on her face.

Heather was laughing. "Grandma! My God, he's going to think you're cuckoo or something."

"Appearances are very important young man, and it is imperative to make a good first impression," she explained, stepping back to admire her work. "I hope you don't see anything wrong with that?" She looked at him, waiting for him to object. "And what is with that silly haircut? You look like Moe from The Three Stooges."

She turned to Gigi before leaving the room. "And you keep your tits in check, sister."

"I told you," said Heather.

"I apologize for Mother's idiosyncrasies," said Danielle, chuckling.

"I think it was amusing," said John.

"My mother was just trying to intimidate you. She does that with everyone."

"Why?"

"She's taking control, keeping you off balance. She's always looking for a victim to poke at, and I think for now you're it. Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, that would be fine."

"What kind of booze do you like?"

"Booze?"

"Yeah, booze. You know, alcohol?"

"Oh, to become intoxicated, you mean. I do not think I should. Do you drink alcohol?"

"Sure, sometimes. Not too much, though."

"And it is okay?"

"Yeah, it's okay . . . kind of fun unless I get sick."

"How often do you get sick?"

"Every time I drink too much."

"You do not drink too much, then?"

"Of course not, it makes me sick."

"Do you think I will get sick?"

"Nah, just don't drink too much." She handed him a plastic cup full of liquid.

John took a taste and gagged. "This tastes like a chemical," he gulped, "and it burns my throat.

"What do you think alcohol is, dummy?" snickered Danielle. "We don't drink it for the taste, by the way, and where the hell have you been? This is the first time you've had alcohol?"

"I have been quite sheltered, like Camper told you. You must drink this for the warm sensation it gives going down."

"That and the sensation you get when it bottoms out," said Danielle.

*

John was talking to Heather, drinking his second cup, smiling, because obviously the sensation was pleasant.

"You want my mom, I know you do."

"What would I do with her?"

"No, fool. It's what she would do to you that matters. You're going to end up giving her everything you've got."

"You do not like your mother?"

"I love my mother," Heather said, "but she just uses men. Gets the dumb ones and takes all their money. I can see it; you've got the hots for her already. You want her."

"I do not want your mom, not like that."

"You're gay, huh?"

John hesitated, thinking. "Oh . . . no, I am not a homosexual."

"And you aren't interested in my mother."

"Not for what you think."

"I told my mother you were weird."

"Is it weird to ask questions, to be interested in what people have to say?"

"All the guys I know just want sex."

"All of them?"

"Yeah, all the ones I know." She grabbed his arm and pointed toward the dining table where the party food was located. "Hey, look at the Claw. She's stuffing food in her pocket." Heather giggled.

The Countess was selecting articles of food and looking them over carefully. Then, holding her jacket pocket open with her good hand, she carefully maneuvered the food inside with the other—all with intense concentration. Others had witnessed this and were also watching. The Countess continued, oblivious of her audience, until her pocket was getting full. Only then did she look up. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and were watching her.

"There is much hunger in world," she stated without hesitation, looking for another pocket.

"Ricky!" yelled Martha. "What the hell does she think she's doing?"

"I don't know, Mother, maybe she just likes to try different foods. Don't embarrass her; she doesn't know all our customs."

"Like leaving some for somebody else?" said Jed. "As usual, you've got yourself a classy broad."

*

"This is the best part of my experience with my new friends," John was telling Harold and Madeline, drinking cup number three. "It is living the meaning of all these new words."

"New words?" asked Madeline.

"Yes, just understanding what a word means is one thing, but living it gives it substance."

"You're talking about English? This isn't your first language?" she asked.

"Oh, no," he slurred.

"I'm surprised. You speak quite well."

"It is my job actually. I am a linguist."

"I thought you were a writer. That's what Danielle said anyway."

"Yes, that too. I am good at new things."

John was slurring his words and swaying. Madeline excused herself and went over to Martha.

"Don't you go getting him drunk!" Martha shouted at Danielle across the room. "We don't know this guy. He might have a problem with drink."

"Oh Mother, he's a grown man. Besides, you should talk."

"I beg your pardon?" Martha shouted indignantly." I'll have you know that the little bit I drink has never interfered with my life like it can with others!"

"What?" Jed responded. "Yeah, seven beers and your life is just fine. It's everyone else that has to duck."

"You hush up, Nut Head. I was explaining how drinking can adversely affect lives, and that could never happen to me."

"What?" Jed scoffed. "And how do you figure you're so special?"

"People will drink even when it leads to poverty, because they can't hold a job," she said.

Danielle laughed. "Mother, I don't think that's a very good analogy for you to use, considering you've never worked a day in your life."

"I'll have you know," shouted Martha, "that I was involved in charitable work during the war."

"Oh Mother, we've all heard the story—how the fleet counted on you being the first face they saw getting back to the dock."

Jed let out a strangled laugh. "Got the wrong end," he said under his breath.

Martha gave him a cold stare and then turned to John with a serious look on her face. "I'll have you know, John, that I did volunteer work for the church."

"What?" howled Jed. "You didn't even make it through the first day!"

"That wasn't my fault!" yelled Martha.

"Mother, you went in with a raging hangover," said Danielle, and then turned to John. "They put her at the welcoming desk, and this old homeless guy came in, and Mother yelled at him."

"He was disgusting, and he smelled," Martha declared.

Danielle laughed. "Mother lost it and yelled, 'What the hell do you want you old bum? This isn't a homeless shelter, this is a goddamn church!' Needless to say, the pastor wasn't pleased."

"I wasn't feeling too well that day, John, and—"

Martha was interrupted by Heather's laughter. "When Grandma's got one of her roaring hangovers, no one else is even allowed to exist."

"They tend to exaggerate," Martha told John.

"Grandma, you drink too much beer and you know it," said Heather.

"Don't you start; you're too young for this kind of conversation."

"I know what I see. You get away with it because you're 'The Queen'."

"And don't any of you forget it! I am also a firm believer in the Lord."

"What?" snickered Jed. "You can't be serious."

"You heard me, I'm very familiar with the Lord's Prayer," Martha stated.

"Yeah, your version," commented Ricky.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Ricky began to pray. "Please, Lord, let all those around me fail miserably, so I appear to succeed."

"I'll have you know that—"

Everyone was laughing at her expense so Martha gave up. "Sons-a-bitches," she grumbled under her breath.

*

John was swaying back-and-forth, a big grin on his face, when Danielle and Heather started arguing about makeup.

"Mother," Heather said, "you wear way too much and it makes you look cheap."

"I resent that! It's important to look your best."

"But you don't need that much! My God, you are a beautiful woman without all that paint on your face," lamented Heather. "What do you think, Space John? Do you think my mother goes overboard with the paint?"

John was leaning against the kitchen counter trying to maintain his balance.

"Space John?" asked Martha.

"Yeah, I'll bet he's an alien, just like Camper," Heather said.

"Makes sense to me," Martha added. "They're certainly both weird ducks."

"Huh? Paint?" John finally responded.

"He doesn't know anything," said Danielle. "Where he's from, the only makeup they use is to highlight the poor little animals' arses."

John sat down because he was getting too unsteady on his feet.

"You said you were married, right, John?" asked Danielle.

"Yes."

"How much makeup does your wife wear?"

"Huh?"

"Well, you sure could use a little," said Danielle. "You're looking a bit pale."

"You're right," said Heather. "His lips could use a little definition." Heather took a tube of lipstick from her purse and sat next to John. "Now, hold still," she said, applying it to his lips.

Danielle sat down on the other side of John. "His eyes certainly don't stand out either. Give me some mascara."

Danielle began working on his eyes. John, being in a state of intoxication, didn't object.

The entire party gathered around and joined in, offering advice. All the laughter, his sudden popularity, and the euphoria of the alcohol had clouded John's senses. When it was over, everyone went on to other things and John stumbled outside for fresh air.

*

Gigi walked up to Danielle. "This damn bra is killing me."

"Why are you wearing a bra?" asked Danielle.

"I've been noticing some sag, and I'm trying to get them back up to their younger years."

"Won't work. Age and gravity do their thing, you know."

"Thanks for the assurance." Gigi continued to make adjustments. "Hey, Ricky's got some good smoke. How about it?"

"No, thanks. I have already partaken. Since when do you trust Ricky?"

"I don't, foolish girl, but this old fogey bash is killing me."

"You invited yourself, now you're complaining?"

Gigi shrugged. "I thought the new guy, John, might be some fun. Little did I know? Of course you pick the strange ones, but he's sure not for me."

Gigi twisted her shoulders. "My tits need to be free. I'm going outside. Sure you don't want to go with?"

"Yes, I'm sure. And for God's sake, don't go wandering around half naked. If you have to do your thing, do it in the car."

*

John was down the road outside the gate they had come through earlier, when it was still light. He rested against the cool metal for support, then slid down to the ground and passed out.

*

John was awakened by a bright light shining in his face.

"Sir, are you all right?" asked a voice from behind the light.

John didn't respond.

"Sir, I need to know what's wrong. You need to talk to us," the voice demanded.

John tried to get to his feet, but was having difficultly.

"Plaie con dolt," mumbled John.

"Excuse me, what did you say?"

"Plaie . . . oh, I am sorry. What is it you want?"

"Have you been drinking, sir?"

"Drinking?"

"Yes, have you consumed any alcohol tonight?"

"Yes, yes, I have. I am afraid I am not used to it."

"That's apparent. Would you please get to your feet?"

John tried again, but slid back down against the gate.

"What have you got on your face, sir?"

"My face?"

"Yes, your face." The man behind the light was losing his patience. It was apparent by the tone in his voice. "Is that makeup?"

"My face is okay, I think. I cannot really feel it, though," John said, touching it.

"What is your name, sir?"

"My name, oh, I am 'Seg Thouge', and you are?"

"Officer Daniels and I need to see some ID, please. Are you from a foreign country?"

"Yes, you might say that."

"Where?"

"You would not know of it."

"All right, buddy, I'm getting sick of this. On your feet right now, we're taking you in."

"Officers! I can explain," shouted Danielle, hurrying down the road with Heather. The flashing lights of the police car had gotten their attention.

"Who are you?" asked Officer Daniels.

"I'm the one that's to blame for all this," said Danielle.

"And how is that?"

"We're having a party, and we got poor John drunk. It's all our fault," she explained.

"What's that all over his face?"

"My daughter and I were just being silly. We put the makeup on him, then he went outside for some fresh air and I guess he wandered down here."

"Well, he's in a world of trouble."

"He hasn't done anything!" shouted Heather. "You leave Space John alone!"

"Space John?"

"She kids him about being an alien. It's just silly teenage stuff. I don't see what the problem is? He's done nothing wrong."

"Well, Space Whoever is drunk and disorderly in public."

Heather took John's wallet out of his pocket, mumbling under her breath, "I can smell bacon." She gave the wallet to a second officer.

Danielle gave her a menacing look and Heather returned it with a snotty smirk.

"John Helms. Is that your real name, sir?" the other officer asked.

"Yes, Helms. That is me."

"We can add giving false identity to the charges," said Officer Daniels.

"That's a bunch of crap, pig!" yelled Heather.

"Shut . . . up!" Danielle said sternly, grabbing Heather's arm. "Officers, let's go back up to the house. We can get this straightened out."

Officer Daniels was about to react to Heather's comment, but the other officer calmed him down. "You've got two teenage girls, so don't look so shocked," he said.

*

"The cops got John!" Heather shouted, running in the door.

"For what?" Jed asked.

"They want to charge him with being drunk and disorderly," she said, out of breath. "And they want to know who he is? I guess he gave them a phony name."

"He's drunk!" said Martha. "I told you he'd be trouble."

"Yeah, duuuh, that's why they want to take him in for being drunk and disorderly!"

"I knew that guy was trouble," Martha repeated. "He's probably wanted in thirty states and fifteen countries."

The two officers stood at the door.

"Do you know this gentleman?" asked Officer Daniels. "He was talking really weird, sounding strange, and he has a lot of makeup on. I think there might be something wrong with him."

Jed stepped up. "Officer, look, it's our fault. You see, John is a cousin, and I don't think he is used to drinking. He's just kind of a simple soul from the country."

"The makeup?" questioned Officer Daniels.

"My daughter and granddaughter did that," confirmed Jed. "We were all just having fun. The poor guy just drank too much, and he went outside to get some fresh air is all. Did he do anything wrong?"

"Drunk and disorderly in public, and he gave us a false identity." Officer Daniels smiled with satisfaction.

"Oh, that? He's studying a foreign language," Jed said, "but he was on private property. I think you overstepped your bounds here, officer," Jed said, looking for the officer's name tag. "Why did you stop in the first place?"

"We got a call about a dead clown lying by the road, so we investigated and found this." Officer Daniels pointed to John, who was just outside the door, propped up against Danielle. "And he was 'outside' the gate, on public land."

"A matter of inches, I would think," stated Jed

Officer Daniels was looking over Jed's shoulder into the house. Jed turned quickly, and there was the Countess. She had returned with a large, black travel bag and was stuffing food into it as fast as she could.

"Sir, is she taking all your food?"

"Goddamn it!" Jeb yelled. "Ricky? . . . Ricky! . . . Where the hell is that S.O.B? Heather, find Ricky and get "her" out of here . . . Now!" Jed turned back to the cop. "Um . . . ah . . . sorry, officer. My damn son brought her. She's from some foreign country, a Contessa or something like that."

"Is she with him?" Officer Daniels asked, pointing to John.

"No, but I can see how you might, 'make the assumption'," Jed said deadpan.

"Are you sure everything is all right? There is still the problem of who this guy is."

"I told you he's a cousin."

"And what is his name, for the record?" Officer Daniels opened his notebook.

"Ah . . ." Jed hesitated.

"It's John, Grandpa," said Heather.

"Yeah, John Holms," added Martha.

"His license says Helms," Officer Daniels said suspiciously.

"Holms, Helms, whatever! What hell difference does it make? Where the hell is Ricky?" Jed hollered.

"What was the funny language he was speaking?" asked Officer Daniels.

"It was probably that foreign language I mentioned," stated Jed. "He travels a lot."

"It didn't sound like a foreign language to me."

"And what did it sound like to you?"

"I don't know? Ahm . . . maybe a code of some kind, something like that." Officer Daniels was still watching the Countess collect the food. "You say she's a foreigner too? Who is she? Does she have ID?"

"I don't know, you ask her," said Jed. "What kind of picture is developing in your head, a spy ring maybe?"

"Sir," Officer Daniels said sternly, "I am just doing my job, and I would appreciate your cooperation." He shouted over Jed's shoulder at the Countess. "Ma'am, can I see some identification?"

"I am Countess Slatvana of Moldavia, and there is much starving in my country," she replied with the thick Russian accent.

"I see, but do you have any identification?" asked Officer Daniels, reaching for his radio.

"I am Countess, and I am helping for my people. That's what real Countess does," she said, still filling her bag.

Officer Daniels backed away from the door and started talking furiously on his radio. "There's something strange going on out here, I tell you."

A voice came back from the radio. "What about the dead clown?"

"Turns out he's a foreign guy called Space John. Talks in a really weird language, wears lots of makeup."

"You said he was a foreigner?"

"That's what he claims."

"Do you think that might explain the different language?"

"Maybe, but it was more than different, I ah . . . I can't explain."

"Could be space talk, huh?" There was a snicker on the other end, then a pause. "Daniels, you know, you could be on to something."

"That's not all. There's a Contessa, or something like that, collecting food in a big, black bag, and she's a foreigner too."

"Any space gibberish out of her?"

Officer Daniels just looked at the radio, scowling.

After a moment, whoever was poking fun at Officer Daniels said, "Daniels, you need to mellow out, seriously."

"But—"

"You know those rich, ranch people out there. They're probably bored and this is their way of having fun—at your expense, I might add."

"Yeah, but this might 'be' something," he pleaded.

"Daniels, six months ago, we had a horse walking down the road in boots, remember?"

"That was someone's idea of a joke, but I'm—"

"You want to take this one serious, you write up the report."

"I'd walk away from this one if I was you," added Jed.

Aunt Edna tugged at Officer Daniels' sleeve from behind. "There's a naked woman attacking my husband!"

"What's that? Somebody is being assaulted?" Officer Daniels said quickly, excited to have something concrete to act on.

"Right there." Edna pointed to a black car parked at the side of the house. "Dick thought he saw someone in our car and went to investigate. There's a naked woman inside, and she's crazy."

"Oh no, Gigi!" Danielle shouted, heading toward the car right behind the officer. "You got in the wrong car, you dumb broad!"

Officer Daniels reached the car first, his gun drawn. He pointed his gun and flashlight at the car and yanked the door open.

"Freeze!"

Inside the car was Gigi, top bare, trying desperately to free her bra, which was tangled in the seat lever, and Dick, who was trying to grab one of her breasts as it swung freely.

"Get away from me, you old coot!" screamed Gigi.

Officer Daniels stood transfixed when he realized that, again, he was dealing with crazy people, and no real crime.

"You're all nuts!" he shouted and turned to leave.

"That is no way to talk to the people who pay your salary, young man!" Martha shouted back.

"Christ, what a moron! He thought he'd uncovered a KGB cell," said Jed, watching the cops stomp back to their car. "You're all damn lucky it turned out the way it did because I wasn't going to bail these psychos out. I can tell you that much."

"Geez, Madeline, I'm so sorry about this. We didn't mean to ruin your party," Martha said.

"Oh, Martha, don't worry. It's all right," said Madeline. She turned to the Countess. With a sympathetic tone she said, "If you're taking the food to help someone, dear, it's okay."

"They're leaving," announced Heather, watching the cops get in their car, the flashing lights going off.

The door to the back patio slid open and Ricky walked into the house.

"Where the hell have you been?" shouted Martha. "No, let me guess . . . out smoking pot as usual. You and your sister always pull this."

"Pull what?" asked Ricky.

"Mother, he split because there were cops here," said Danielle, "and don't blame anything on me."

"Your lady friend," Jed gestured to the Countess, who was half dragging, half carrying her bag toward the door, "is leaving with all the food."

Ricky laughed. "Ah, it's no big deal. So she's a little cuckoo?"

"What?" shouted Jed. "Just a little! There was a cop here thinking she was a goddamn spy! If they'd taken her away, it would have been your problem."

"What problem? They left."

"Yeah, you laugh," said Jed. "Yeah, you too." He turned to Danielle.

"Oh, Dad," said Danielle, "don't be so dramatic. And as if we're the only ones that associate with crazy people. What about my second wedding?"

"That wasn't my fault."

"Ah huh, they were your friends."

"That was different," Jed said quietly.

"Yeah, right."

"Well," said Martha, cornering John behind the door, "what the hell do you have to say for yourself, Space John?"

"I am absolutely determined to never drink alcohol again," he said weakly.

"That would be smart, considering how much trouble you caused. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! And somebody who has never drank before? I've never heard of that one! Everyone, and I mean everyone, has tried it at least once."

"I am included now," he pointed out.

"You think you're a 'smart-ass', don't you?" Martha snarled at him, hands on her hips. "Well, you really looked like a 'dumb-ass' tonight because you came close to getting hauled off to jail. You claim you're fairly new to the English language, which I think is BS, but if you are, 'idiot' is a new word you should certainly understand."

"Mother, he was drunk and it was my fault. He wasn't responsible for his actions," said Danielle.

"Bullshit! A person is always responsible for their actions." Martha turned back to John. "Well, now that you've heard how big a fool you were, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I guess I am a little relieved that, maybe, I was not responsible for my actions." John shrugged. "I am not sure what really happened, but I suppose I did make a real idiot of myself and I apologize."

Martha looked at John for a moment, then walked over to him and pressed one of her palms tight to his forehead and said, "May the forthcoming hangover be sufficient to pay for the crime."

Chapter 6

John awoke earlier than everyone else and was outside admiring the Walnut Ranch. Rancho de Los Retardos was spectacular in the morning sun. A big lake started as a round, sweeping pond fifty feet from the front of the house down among large, leafy trees. Four bright-colored ducks swam close to shore. The shimmering surface stretched three hundred feet toward a large fountain and the entrance gate. More big trees stood between the far end of the lake and the curving driveway leading to the main house. The lake narrowed as it curved around the side of the house and ended far back on the property. The house was effectively closed in by water on three sides.

John had found a book on local plants and taken it outside. He was sitting on the porch on the lake side of the house. He was comparing the plants in the book with the ones scattered all around. He had just matched up a Bougainvillea from the book with the thick, brilliant green and red plant that grew along the side of the house at the end of the porch.

Heather came out, the first of the family to be up and around.

She grinned at John. "How's the head this morning? Going bong, bong, and bong?"

"It hurts a little," he admitted.

Heather looked at John. "I'll get you some aspirin."

"Is the family angry about last night?" asked John.

"Nah, they live for that kind of thing."

"Your Grandmother looked quite angry."

"Oh, you just got the look, 'The Walnut Glare.' Every Walnut has their own version."

"What does it mean?"

"It's a warning. If a Walnut doesn't want to continue with something, or intimidate, they give you the look, 'The Glare.'"

*

Heather invited him to walk around the lake with her. A trio of dogs followed them—a scrawny, black, wire-haired dog first in line right behind John. The dog kept getting closer and closer, wanting to inspect him.

"Shoo, Bozo!" commanded Heather as she flicked her hand at the mangy dog.

"It is all right, I like the animals."

"The animals here are just as cuckoo as the people. Watch this!"

Heather stopped and turned to the black dog.

"Dance, Bozo . . . Dance, Bozo!" she shouted. The black dog immediately started spinning around, going faster and faster as Heather repeated, "Dance, Bozo," until he lost his balance and tumbled off. Heather was laughing hysterically. "I told you!"

"What about the other two?" John asked.

"The one with the beautiful eyes," she said, pointing to an Australian shepherd with one gold eye and one silver-gray, "that's Angel. She's not too sure of people. My grandparents got her from the shelter, and she was really abused. It took them a long time to get her to let them get close. She put her hand out and the dog slowly came, finally allowing Heather to rub her nose. "She won't let anyone she doesn't know get near her."

"Did someone hurt you, pretty thing?" John said, putting his hand out. The shepherd hesitated for a moment. John made a soft sound deep in his throat and Angel's ears shot up. Then she came right up to him. He patted her head as she wagged her tail vigorously.

"Wow, that doesn't happen often," said Heather.

"What about this other guy here?" he asked, pointing at the last dog, a big, mean-looking animal. It had the same colors as Angel but much shorter, darker hair.

"Oh, that's Paco, he's Angel's son. She was pregnant when they got her and she wouldn't let anyone near her while she was delivering. Paco was stillborn and Grandpa finally managed to get him away from Angel and he gave this tiny little dog CPR and it worked. Paco's retarded, though. Every time there's thunder or the hunters fire their guns over there"—Heather pointed to the open desert next to the ranch—"he busts all the screens in the house. He literally runs right through them. He's a dippity dog."

Paco was eyeing John and pacing back-and-forth fifteen feet away. John pursed his lips and made some strange sounds. Paco's ears shot up. He seemed to be listening. All of a sudden, Paco stopped pacing and walked directly up to John, sat down at his feet, and offered his right paw.

"I don't believe this," Heather said, looking at John.

*

They had returned from their walk and were sitting on the porch when Martha appeared at the door.

"I don't know who made the biggest fool of themselves last night—you or that idiot Ricky brought," barked Martha, a tea cup in her hand.

"I am sorry if I caused you any distress," said John firmly, "but I was unaware of the consequences of drinking substances I am unaccustomed to."

"I heard all that garbage last night, and if you think being proper is going to get you off the hook, you're sadly mistaken," said Martha. "God you're a weird duck. Where the hell did you say you came from?"

"Grandma, leave him alone," Heather said. "I think it's cute. He's so innocent, and Paco likes him."

"Innocent my ass! He's a bullshitter. I know bullshit when I see it, . . . and Paco doesn't like anyone, except Jed. Where's that asshole, Ricky, and his girlfriend?"

Danielle walked onto the porch. "Yes, Mother, you can certainly identify with bullshit. By the way, the crazy countess is gone. I can't find her anywhere, and Ricky's missing too."

"He's in the guest cottage," said Heather, "and the Claw slept on the old mattress in the corner of the garage."

Madeline walked around from the side of the house and came onto the porch.

"Oh, Madeline," said Martha, "I'm so embarrassed about last night."

"Don't worry about it, Martha." Madeline sat down. "It made for an interesting party. Harold is still laughing. You guys are always telling us about Ricky and his crazy women. When Harold heard Ricky was going to bring a lady friend, he was looking forward to it, and he wasn't disappointed." She looked at John and stuck her thumb in his direction. "And he was a real bonus."

"Look, Jed and I will make up for all the stuff she took," said Martha, "but I have no idea how we could compensate you"—she gave John a nasty look—"For 'his' actions."

"No way, I told you it was worth every bit of food."

"No, no, we insist."

"Martha, don't worry about it. You guys bested Harold's stunt with the boots on old Crazy Horse," said Madeline. "Speaking of crazy, the Countess just went by our place riding a bike."

"Where did she get a bike?" Martha asked. "The only one we have is that old thing in the garage with the flat tires."

"That must be the one. Harold said she was having a hell of a time, . . . looked like Dorothy's witch, all hunched over and pedaling like crazy."

"Oh Christ, where the hell could she be going at this time of the day?" asked Martha. "This is so embarrassing. Maybe she left? Where the hell is Ricky?"

"I told you—in the guest cottage," said Heather.

"You go get his ass out of there now!"

"No way. He sleeps in the raw."

"Goddamn him! This always happens."

Jed walked out into the warm sun, but before he even had a chance to sit, Martha snapped at him.

"Jed, that looney countess took the old bike out of the garage and headed for town."

"What?" exclaimed Jed. "The tires are all rotten."

"We know that! You get in your truck and go see if you can find her."

"What? That crazy Contessa is not my problem! Where the hell is Ricky?"

"Wake up, Nut Head. You can't count on him!" shouted Martha. "And she's 'going' to be your problem if something happens in town."

"I haven't even had breakfast," Jed grumbled, heading back into the house.

*

A half-hour later Jed came driving back into the ranch, the countess sitting in the back of his pickup drinking from a large bottle. He parked the truck and walked up to the patio.

"Where'd you find her?" asked Martha.

"Down at the country store," Jed said, shaking his head. "This is not good."

"What the hell are you muttering about?"

"That's a half gallon of vodka she's got, and she's drinking it straight."

"Oh, boy." Martha sounded concerned.

"She ruined the rims," he added.

"Oh, for Christ's sake." Martha laughed. "That old piece of junk, and you're worried about it."

"That was a very valuable bike!"

"It's a piece of junk, Jed!"

"It certainly is now."

"Grandma," Heather said, coming back out to the porch with Danielle. "The Countess of Hook is unpacking her clothes in the guest bedroom."

"Oh Christ," said Martha, jumping up. "Jed, you get in there and stop this right now. I don't want her thinking she's going to stay."

"What? Why me?"

"You're the one that brought her back."

"What? You're the one that insisted I go get her!"

"Goddamn it! I'm not going to sit here and argue with you while she makes herself at home!" "Too late," Danielle said. "She just told me she'll be staying for four months, and then gave me her breakfast order."

"That's it!" Martha screeched and headed inside. "I'm the only one who gives orders around here!"

Jed was leaning against the railing of the porch with a silly grin on his face.

"What's so amusing?" Danielle asked.

"The irresistible force meets the drunken object," Jed replied, laughing.

"Oh, you laugh now. You know how Mother gets when she's defied. You're the one that's going to catch most of the blast."

Jed stopped laughing. "Where the hell is that damn Ricky? This is all his fault!"

"Of course it's all his fault. Why do you think he disappeared?"

Just then Martha's yelling streamed out of the house and everyone rushed inside.

*

"You can't stay here!" shouted Martha, throwing the countess's clothing in a suitcase.

"I am Countess, and it is customary to honor a royal figure in your home for four months," said the Countess, grabbing her clothes and pulling them out.

"Like hell! You're out of here now, sister!" shouted Martha, throwing her clothes back in.

"People will come from miles around to see a countess," said the Countess calmly, taking the clothes out again. "You will have many more friends, you will see."

"You're leaving now!" shouted Martha, throwing the clothes back in.

"You don't have any royalty," the Countess said placidly, as she grabbed the clothes, pulling them out again.

"We have royalty!" shouted Martha. "We LaFluers are all aristocrats!"

"You should have authentic royalty."

"I'm the only goddamn queen here!" Martha yelled. She threw the clothes back in the suitcase, slammed the top down, and tried to lock it. "And that's the way it's going to stay. You are out, now!"

"Phuu, you're not a real queen. You don't have any royal blood," scoffed the Countess.

"I 'am' the royalty in this house, and you want to see some blood?" Martha's face had taken on a ruddy, sinister look.

Danielle and Heather were watching and laughing

"Grandma, how come you're giving her your suitcase?" asked Heather.

"What are you talking about?"

"Dad gave you that suitcase for Christmas," said Danielle.

"That son of—" Martha snarled, looking at the expensive bag. She shook her head and redirected her attention. "I don't care! Just get her the hell out of here!"

She glared at Jed.

"What?" asked Jed. "That's a very expensive suitcase."

"Oh, shut up! You just get her out of here now," ordered Martha again.

"Mother," said Danielle, Dad's right. It's part of the set."

Martha turned on Danielle, a nasty smile on her face. "Well, then, if you're so concerned about it, she can go to 'your' place."

"Ah, it's not that expensive," Danielle said quickly.

"Yeah, that's what I figured." Martha grabbed the suitcase. "She is going now!" She started to drag it out of the room, but the Countess grabbed the other end and was pulling equally hard to stay.

"Barbarians, nothing but barbarians in this country," shouted the Countess. She and Martha were at a standstill, neither one gaining any ground with the suitcase. "I should not have to deal with this," proclaimed the Countess as Ricky walked into the room.

"What's going on?" he asked, surveying the situation.

"Ricky, get her out of here now!" shouted Martha, giving up on the suitcase and going to the closet.

Martha grabbed the big black bag full of food and dragged it out.

"I don't know," Ricky said, rubbing his chin. "When she makes her mind up, it's awful hard—"

"Get her out!" shrieked Martha, dropping the bag and stomping out of the room.

Ricky went over to the Countess, who was pushing the black bag back into the closet.

"Now, Mulva," he said in a soft, respectful voice, "you know how delicate diplomacy can become when you're forced to deal"—Ricky looked down the hall to make sure his mother was really gone—'with commoners'.

Jed was standing in the door with a contemptuous look on his face, but didn't react to the commoner comment.

"I should not have to be subjected to this type of disrespect," said the Countess. "If my father was still alive, he would have these people shot!"

"What?" Jed shouted. "Who the hell does she think she is?"

"Dad, not now," said Ricky.

"Why do we have to put up with this?"

"Because she stands to inherit millions," Ricky said quietly, pushing Jed back into the hall.

"Oh, horse pucky," Jed exclaimed, looking back in at the Countess, who was checking inside the black bag, confirming her food stash was still there.

"I'm not kidding, she's next in line to a great fortune," said Ricky.

"And where is this great fortune?"

"It's tied up in some court."

"What court?" Jed was clearly not impressed.

"Some kind of military tribunal."

"What? Do you even know what a tribunal is?" Jed asked. "What did the father do?"

"I guess he got carried away and a few people disappeared, but when it's cleared up, she will get the money," Ricky explained.

"What? She's not going to get diddly squat!" announced Jed. "She's probably lucky they're not looking for her too."

"Well, they kind of are," Ricky said sheepishly.

"What?" shouted Jed. "And you bring her here!" He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "She's probably an international criminal, and it doesn't bother you?"

"Hey, I didn't shoot anybody, . . . and don't forget the money."

"The money! How can you be so damn dumb? Besides, I'm sure you'd show up here to share your part of the loot." He looked his son straight in the eye. "I don't care if you're working one of your schemes, just do it someplace else." He poked Ricky in the chest. "If you don't get her out of here now, life won't be worth living. Get my drift?"

Jed walked away and Ricky went back into the bedroom. "I just got a call from the embassy," he told the Countess. "They need your testimony. We need to get you on a plane right away."

The Countess grabbed the suitcase and her bag and started dragging them out of the room. "Daddy needs me!" she announced.

*

The Countess was calmly sitting on the suitcase outside under the porte-cochere. Clothes were poking out of the suitcase on all sides and the Countess was drinking more vodka. She took a drink, held the bottle high and shouted, "I'm coming, Daddy. I'm coming to clear your name."

Martha was shaking her head as she watched the Countess through the window. "Ricky, where did you meet this woman?" she asked

"In a seminar. They claimed they could train you to have three-hour orgasms."

"And you believed them?" Martha laughed.

"Oh, Mother," said Danielle, giggling. "Ricky probably took the class because he knew there would be desperate, horny women there."

"Well, that certainly explains it. And that woman was in the group?"

"She was the instructor," said Ricky proudly.

"I would think," said Danielle, "that after getting a glimpse of her, she would tend to dull the pleasures."

"Or destroy them entirely," added Jed.

"How the hell did you get hooked up with her?" Martha asked.

"I met her at a party later," Ricky confessed.

"What?" asked Jed. "Didn't you think it was kind of strange when she started taking all the food?"

"She didn't do it there," Ricky stated. "It was a real classy party."

"Oh!" shouted Martha. "And we're of a lower order, huh? But, of course, it has to happen here in front of all our friends. I'm so embarrassed."

"It wasn't my fault, you're the ones that let her get booze," Ricky said.

"She rode your old bike to the store," said Martha.

"That old thing? It doesn't have any tires," said Ricky.

"That was a very valuable bike," Jed added.

"Oh, shut up about the bike!" Martha yelled at him. "Just get her the hell out of here, both of you!"

*

Jed and Ricky were out next to the pickup arguing about what to do with the Countess, who was still sucking on the vodka bottle.

"All these decisions you want me to make, I don't know where to begin," said Ricky.

"You don't have any problem when there's something to gain for yourself," said Jed. "It's just when somebody else might benefit that you are reluctant to act."

*

"Sir, I'm sorry, we cannot possibly let her on the plane. She is obviously intoxicated," said the ticket agent.

"You don't understand, it is imperative that she leaves," Jed stumbled, "ah . . . gets home. You understand?"

"That woman is not our problem," the agent said, gesturing to the Countess, who was lying on her luggage and snoring. The rest of the passengers had noticed and were keeping their distance.

"She won't be any trouble, for Christ's sake." Jed was getting desperate. "Just give her a couple of drinks, and she won't be any problem."

"That is not our policy. Besides, sir, I have heard from the baggage attendant that her luggage is full of spoiling food," said the agent with a devious smirk.

"You don't understand!" shouted Jed, causing people to look.

"My suggestion, sir, would be the bus," the agent said sternly. "Now, if you force me to call security . . ."

"No," said Jed, backing away from the counter. "Thank you for your help. By the way, you're not hungry, are you?"

*

Jed was really angry, having struck out at the airport. They were in the pickup with the Countess still sitting in the back. "Can't you at least get the bottle away from her?"

"You take it away from her," said Ricky. "Besides, she starts to sober up and we're really going to have a problem, trust me."

Jed glared at him. "You're going to cough up the money for this! I don't know how I'm going to collect, considering it's you, but I will! And I do not, and I repeat, do not ever want you to bring another woman to anything remotely involving the family ever again! Do you read me?"

"It's not my fault, you got her drunk."

"Aaauuugghh!" howled Jed.

*

Ricky and Jed were trying to get the Countess across the bus terminal to the ticket counter, but it was difficult. She was still bombed and not cooperative in the least. Ricky stayed with her in the waiting area while Jed went to the ticket counter.

"One, one-way ticket to San Francisco, please."

"The name, please?"

"Oh, it would be for her." Jed pointed back over his shoulder.

"What is she doing?"

"She's waiting to go to San Francisco."

"Is she planning to take our garbage with her?"

"What are you talking about?"

The agent pointed over Jed's shoulder. He turned to see the Countess rummaging around in a big, plastic garbage receptacle. She had taken the lid off and her upper body was completely inside. She was throwing items out onto the floor.

"Oh, Christ."

Jed hurried toward the Countess and looked around for Ricky. He spotted him on the other side of the waiting area looking at some posters.

"Goddamn it, Ricky, can't you even watch her? Get your ass over here!"

People were watching the commotion.

"I didn't want anyone to think I was with her. It's embarrassing," Ricky shouted back.

"Now, Countess," said Jed, trying to sound polite, "don't you think you have enough for the trip?"

"It will be a long plane ride," she said from inside the bin.

"Not really. The plane will go up and then right back down."

Jed tried to pull her out by her arm.

"Ricky, get the hell over here!" he shouted again. "Please, Countess, you need to hurry. The bus, ah, the plane is getting ready to leave."

"Well, I'm not ready, so they'll just have to wait," she said, still inside the bin.

Ricky finally walked up.

"Damn it, Ricky; get her bags over to the counter. At least do 'something.'"

The Countess backed out of the container.

"Good," Jed told her, "now we need to talk to the agent, so be nice and you'll be on the plane shortly."

"Oh goody, will they be serving cocktails?" she asked, turning her face up toward Jed, who got a blast of her breath.

"Oooohh," he gagged and backed away.

The ticket agent had come out from behind the counter and was sniffing the Countess's luggage. He looked up to Jed and said, "You can't be serious."

"You don't understand," begged Jed. "I will pay double if you—"

"No way, mister."

"Triple?"

"I think you'd better leave, sir."

"How much?" Jed asked, all hope gone.

The agent pointed to the exit with a stern look.

"But I am the Countess of Moldavia and I want my plane ride!" shouted the Countess as Jed and Ricky dragged her and her bags out of the terminal.

*

Jed was waiting inside the truck in the parking lot of a motel. The Countess was still in the back of the pickup.

Ricky was outside talking to his mother on his phone. "They wouldn't let her on the plane. She's drunk and her luggage stinks."

"Put her on a bus then, but don't bother coming back here until she is gone," said Martha. "I'm serious, Ricky!"

"We already tried, and it ain't going to happen!"

"Then you're going to drive her."

"You can't expect me to just change my plans! I'm not going back for a few days, so you'll just have to—"

"She's one of those wackos you always take up with. How come you never expect this sort of thing when it happens all the time? Answer me that, will you?"

"It doesn't happen every time, and you can't blame me. You guys shouldn't have let her drink. I could have told you that."

"You never said anything, and yet you knew she wasn't supposed to drink? Besides, remember the party? And that was 'before' she got drunk."

"Well, I heard there could be some trouble if she drank, but—"

"But horse pucky! You didn't say a goddamn thing. And if you knew she wasn't supposed to drink, why didn't you watch her?"

"I didn't see her drink anything," whined Ricky. "It wasn't my fault!"

Martha's voice roared out of the phone.

"Oh, you were too busy getting stoned, so it 'was' your fault. As usual, you screw up and then walk away. Well, you are taking care of this mess."

"Where the hell am I going to take her?"

"She's not coming back here. She's out of here, and now she's your problem."

"What am I supposed to do with her?" Ricky sighed.

"Take her to a motel."

"They won't take her either, we already tried."

"Boy," said Martha, laughing, "you got yourself a real problem."

"You don't understand because you have no sympathy for anyone," said Ricky. "My friend paid me to get her out of his place for a while because he had some important people coming."

"Ah, now we get to the plot. You got money to take her someplace, so you brought her here to save a buck, and now you don't want to spend the money."

"Well, then I won't make any, and you can't believe what I've had to put up with."

"I don't care. We're leaving to go to Red's wedding in the morning, so no one is going to be here anyway. You do remember we're going to the wedding?"

"That's right. I forgot. Man, I've got to get rid of her."

"I don't think Red is expecting you," said Martha warily.

"Oh, come on, I haven't seen Red in quite a while. He can't still be mad."

"Ricky," Martha explained, "people tend to stay angry with you for quite some time, or haven't you noticed?"

"Well, then it's time I make some amends," he announced. "What about Wanda?"

"We're picking her up on the way," said Martha, hanging up the phone.

"Geez, Mother, do you think it's a good idea letting Ricky go up to Red's?" asked Danielle, who had been with Martha the whole time.

*

Jed and Ricky had returned to Rancho de Los Retardos and walked into the family room. The Countess was not with them.

"What'd you do with the drunk?" Martha asked suspiciously.

"Ricky called his buddy, Ross, at work," said Jed, "and said he had this hot chick for him. Ross got excited and said it was okay to just drop her off at his condo."

"Ross," said Martha. "Is that the guy that lives at the hoity-toity, big shot country club he's always bragging about?"

"Yup," said Ricky.

"Oh, they're going to love her there!" Martha started laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach.

"Poor Mulva," lamented Ricky, "she's had it rough, you know. You just couldn't understand. She was raised in a palace with servants and all her needs were met. Then she married a Duke or something. She spent most of her life in opulence, and then it was all taken away. Now she has to get along as well as she can. It's not easy, you know. You should have more compassion for the downtrodden."

"What? Oh, paallease!" exclaimed Jed. "Since when do you have any compassion for anyone, whether they may be living in opulence or under a bridge?"

"Oh, he's figuring there might be something in it for him," added Danielle.

"Bingo!" shouted Heather.

"I'm hurt that you all think that way! It was your fault. We just came down to enjoy ourselves and didn't expect any problems."

"What?" asked Jed. "You bring a woman that has a serious drinking problem, and you don't expect trouble?"

"She was completely sober until you guys upset her and caused her to drink."

"And how the hell did we upset her?" asked Martha.

"You accused her of stealing food."

"She was certainly helping herself to most of it," added Jed.

"It was for her people," Ricky said sincerely.

"What?" shouted Jed. "And I repeat, since when have you been concerned about anybody?"

Ricky stood tall and spoke with great conviction, "I take offense that everyone thinks that I don't have a heart."

Danielle laughed. "You don't, so why should you be offended?" she asked.

Ricky, realizing there was nothing to gain in this direction, switched gears. "Well, I certainly will be more careful of who I bring around here from now on!" he said and stomped off.

"I can't wait for the next looney," said Martha.

Chapter 7

John and Danielle were sitting on a bench next to the meandering lake. The bench was under a massive cottonwood tree.

"What do you think of Rancho de Los Retardos?" she asked him.

"It is impressive," he said. "Your parents do not mind that the name indicates retarded people live here?"

"Mind? No, they're the ones that made it up. Come on, I'll show you around."

She grabbed his hand.

"I remember last night you mentioned your wedding was chaotic," said John.

Danielle smiled at him. "I'm surprised you remember anything. Oh, my second, yeah, but my first of many was a mess too. I was just sixteen. My parents always accuse us kids of embarrassing them, but they do their share to put us in similar situations, I can guarantee. However, they don't see it that way. My parents' marriage was declared doomed from the start by all the relatives, but ironically all those people remarried many times over and my father and mother are still together."

As they walked toward the citrus grove at the back of the property, Danielle said, "So, John, tell me about yourself."

"There is not much to tell," he said as they arrived at a large grapefruit tree loaded down with fruit.

Danielle stopped walking and faced John down. "Look, you can't expect to pump us and then not contribute anything about yourself."

"Compared to a Walnut, my life is embarrassingly simple. I have nothing to contribute in the way of humor."

"It can't be that bad."

"Oh, but it is."

"How is that possible?"

"I was born in an extremely conservative atmosphere. All these experiences with you and your family were unknown. Until now, I thought it was not possible."

"My mother's right, you're bullshitting . . . and sidestepping the truth."

"I do not know what to say."

"Where were you born?" She looked serious.

"You have never heard of it."

"Try me." She stepped into the grass behind the grapefruit tree and there was a furious rattling sound. Danielle froze.

"John," she said in a whisper, "it's a rattlesnake, don't move."

But John moved quickly, stepping to the side of Danielle, then slightly forward, right toward the snake. He stopped, bent over, and when the snake struck, grabbed it behind the head and stood up. The snake went limp, hanging like a rope.

"Jesus, John, what the hell are you doing?" yelled Danielle.

"They are not too fast, are they?"

"Those things are really poisonous."

John was looking at the snake closely, prying its mouth open with his thumbnail. "Yes, I can see it has some nasty looking fangs all right, but you just scared it." He walked a short distance and put the snake down. It slithered slowly into the tall grass.

"Where did you come from?" she exclaimed. "I've never seen anyone move so quick."

"It was the snake that was slow. Really, it is nothing."

"Look, John, or whoever you are, I don't like anybody pulling my strings. Either you level with me or take a hike." She turned and stomped off, leaving John standing there alone.

*

John headed back to the house not sure how to proceed. He couldn't tell the truth because he had committed to a policy from his superiors and nobody would believe him anyway. The Walnuts already called him Space John, and he couldn't tell them how close to the truth they really were.

He was walking up from the lake when he heard shouting from inside the house. Heather was sitting outside on the porch when he walked up.

"What?" shouted Jed from inside. "I can't believe you took that!"

"Sounds like your grandparents are having an argument," said John.

"Nah, they're just playing cards," said Heather. "Grandma is the Gin Queen. Nobody can beat her, and Grandpa gets really frustrated."

"What?" hollered Jed again. "Why the hell are you taking that card?"

John looked inside through the screen as Martha said calmly, "Because . . . I'm playing 'Gin!'" She threw one card onto a pile and laid the rest down face-up on the table.

"What?" howled Jed even louder. "I can't believe it! You just took that card and you didn't even need it!"

"If you'd learn how to play the game, you wouldn't have to get so mad," said Martha.

"What? If you weren't so damn lucky!" He threw down the cards and got up. "I've got things to do. I can't sit around here all day wasting my time."

"Oh, go do your stuff. I'm tired of beating you anyway."

"Grandma's the Gin Queen," repeated Heather.

"That's because she's so damn lucky," Jed said as he headed past them to his workshop out at the back of the ranch.

*

Danielle came into the family room and sat down opposite Martha.

"Nut Head is out getting the Nut Mobile and camper ready for the trip," Martha said. "That 'idiot' out there still want to go?" She was referring to John.

Heather shouted back into the house, "Grandma, be nice!"

"Ask him," Danielle told Martha.

"John!" Martha shouted out to the porch. "Get your sorry ass in here!"

"We're discussing the trip I was telling you about," Danielle told him. "Still sure you want to go after what you've seen already?" She seemed to have forgotten being annoyed at him.

"Yes, I find all this interesting, except for the alcohol. And I will get to meet another Walnut."

"Yeah, you get to meet Wanda, the hippie Walnut," said Danielle, laughing.

"The silly Walnut is more like it," Martha said. "We have to stop at her place and get a few things straightened out with the house."

"What's wrong with it now?" asked Danielle.

"Everything! Your father is such an idiot. That thing is costing us a bundle."

"Dad is notorious for spending two dollars to save one," Danielle told John.

"What?" exclaimed Jed, walking in with Ricky. "That's not true!"

"Oh yeah?" asked Martha, laughing. "All the stores in town know you well. They see you coming and throw a reduced-price sign on something and you think you're getting a bargain so you buy it even though you don't need it. And they never even changed the price in the first place."

"What? You're exaggerating a little."

"Oh, and why is it we have fifteen cameras and you haven't taken a picture in twenty years?"

"They're good cameras," he declared. "They'll be worth a lot someday, you'll see."

"You won't live to see it."

Just then Danielle's phone began ringing but she didn't answer it.

"Why don't you answer your phone?" Martha asked.

"Because she knows it is Pooool Boooy," Heather answered for her.

"Stop making fun of people," Danielle snapped.

"Who's this Pool Boy character?" asked Martha.

"Just a friend," said Danielle.

*

Jed shouted from inside the kitchen a moment later, "Danielle! There's a call for you!"

"Who is it?" she asked.

"I don't know, I'm not your service."

"Oh for—" Danielle got up and went to the kitchen.

"Who's this Pool Boy?" Martha asked Heather.

"Another one of Mother's dreamboats," she replied.

"This guy cleans pools, and she's interested in him?" Martha sounded miffed.

"He claims to be an entrepreneur and a fabulously successful businessman," said Heather.

"Then why's he cleaning pools?" commented Jed from inside.

"Beats me," said Heather. "I don't think he cleans all that many, though. He stands by ours in the morning waiting for Mother to leave. And if she doesn't, he doesn't. Same thing at night."

"Sounds like a weirdo to me. Has anyone checked him out?" asked Martha.

"Sounds like another knuckle-dragger," added Jed.

*

"How did you get this number?"

Everyone could hear Danielle's conversation because she had walked near the open window.

"No, I don't answer my cell phone every time it rings . . . If I don't feel like it, I don't. Is something wrong there? . . . Then why are you calling? . . . Oh, we'll be gone for quite some time . . . You can call me on my cell, if you must."

Danielle hung up and went back outside.

"Who was that?" asked Martha, winking at Heather.

"Nobody important," said Danielle, not taking the bait.

*

Danielle, Heather, Jed, and John were talking on the porch while Martha was in the kitchen cleaning up. A bunch of ducks were swimming along the edge of the lake, coming closer.

"You leave her alone!" Martha shouted from the open window.

"Leave who alone?" Jed turned to the window, but Martha was already coming out with a broom.

"You get the hell off her!" Martha raced across the porch, holding the broom with both hands.

"Mother," said Danielle, laughing, "have you gone cuckoo?"

Martha was off the porch and headed for the lake.

A male duck was trying to mate with one of the females. He held the female underwater with his bill, trying to mount her. Martha was at the water's edge with the broom, trying to get the male off, but he just pushed the female into deeper water and continued his amorous intent.

"Mother, it's just a duck-fuck, leave them alone," said Danielle, laughing.

"Goddamn men!" Martha yelled, wading into the water. "That's no way to treat a lady!"

Martha was up to her knees in the water, reaching out with the broom to get the male off. "Oh shit!" she yelped as she lost her footing on the slippery lake bottom and went under, still holding the broom.

The ducks started quacking loudly and flapped away. Even the male gave up on his mating attempt.

Martha splashed to the surface, still gripping the broom. It had gotten under her and she was straddling it, hanging on with one hand and trying to paddle to shore with the other.

"Look, everybody, a water witch!" yelled Heather, pointing.

Everyone started laughing.

"You sons-a-bitches," sputtered Martha, which made everyone laugh even harder.

"Dad, . . . you'd better . . . go . . . help . . . her," Danielle said in a strangled voice, having a hard time getting the words out.

Jed, laughing as hard as everybody, got up and started down toward the water.

"I've got to get my camera," Heather said, getting up to run inside.

Jed heard her from halfway down to the lake and swung around fast. "Are you nuts!" he yelled. "The quicker this is forgotten, the better."

Danielle went to intercept Heather.

They returned moments later, Heather without her camera and a disappointed look on her face.

Jed had gotten Martha out of the lake, but then she slipped on the grass because her feet were still slick with lake mud. She landed hard on her rear.

"Get away from me!" she yelled at Jed, who was trying to help her up. Jed backed off, letting her get to her feet by herself. She crossed the grass and stomped across the porch, muddy, mad, and dripping water. "If I hear so much as a chuckle, there is going to be hell to pay."

"I've got some things to do in town," said Jed, "and I suggest we all go."

The porch cleared immediately.

*

"I hope that duck has the sense to go north early this year," Jed said, driving down the road.

"Yeah," said Danielle, "I for one do not care for duck soup."

Jed, Heather, and Danielle burst out laughing. John just smiled.

Chapter 8

All the Walnuts gathered in the parking area the next morning ready for their trip.

"Here's what we figured," Martha informed everyone. "Ricky and Danielle, with Space John, will take our camper with the bed. Nut Head's got the inside of the camper full, so he tied the mattress and box spring on top. It should be no problem."

"Uh oh. 'No problem' promises the head Walnut, so we be screwed now!" Danielle added, laughing. "What are you taking a bed to a wedding for?"

"We're giving it to Wanda," said Martha. "Besides, you'll have something to sleep on. No telling what critters live in what they consider a bed."

"That's a true story," said Danielle. "What about John?"

"If he's got a problem, you figure something out. And besides," snorted Martha, "he's a drunken fool, so why should he get any consideration at all? He ruined the party."

"Oh, Mother, you're the talk of the town by now. You should be thankful."

"If you think I relish—"

"Oh phuut," Danielle interrupted, "the Walnuts do not disappoint people, Mother."

Martha laughed.

"Only worried about yourself, as usual," said Ricky.

"You're one to talk," said Martha. "Look what we had to go through with your guest."

"That's the problem with this family." Ricky raised his voice, flinging his arms up in frustration and directing the whole scene for John's benefit. "Something goes a little wrong and they never let you forget."

"What?" shouted Jed. "You're wrong about that! We forget right away because with you it is something new 'immediately', and they are never just small deals."

"I'm not sure I want to drive 'your' camper for you now, not for nothing anyway," Ricky told Jed.

"Meaning?"

"I'll need some gas money if you expect me to do this."

"There's enough to get to Old Woman Springs Road. You know the old place just past the turn off. We'll meet there and I'll fill both tanks. Then you won't need any."

"What about food?"

"You're the expert, con somebody else for it."

"I resent that," Ricky said and sulked off.

"Your brother is really offended. It sounds like he might not go," said John.

"Oh, it's all part of the game," explained Danielle. "He works everybody, and if he doesn't get his way, so what? Believe me; he doesn't waste any time feeling sorry for himself. He's already off on a new angle."

"Your father and I will take Heather with us in the motor home," Martha said, continuing with the plans.

*

"You'll love this place," Danielle told John. She was sitting between him and Ricky as they drove up to a dilapidated bar, restaurant, and gas station out in the middle of the desert.

"Why do they insist on coming out here anyway?" asked Ricky.

"I don't know, trying to reclaim their youth maybe," she said. "Well, at least we won't have to wait around. There's the motor home."

"I see your father over there," said John, pointing to the side of the building.

Jed was coming out of the bathroom and heading toward the front of the building. Another old man went into the men's room.

"I can't believe he'd use those disgusting bathrooms," Danielle said. "The last time I went into the ladies room here, I almost gagged, and that was ten years ago. I can't imagine how bad they must be by now."

They parked next to the motor home as Martha stepped out.

"That old fool has been in that bathroom forever, and I'm not going to sit and wait. We need to get this show on the road." Martha complained, stomping off. She stormed up to the battered old door to the men's room and banged her fist against it. "You come out of there now! You hear me, you son-of-a-bitch?"

"Are you not going to tell her Jed is not in there anymore?" John asked Ricky and Danielle.

They both looked at each other for a moment and said in unison, "Nah."

Martha continued banging her fist on the door. The whole door and its hinges shook from her assault. "If you're not out of there in five-seconds, you're going to be sorry! I'll stomp your balls in the dirt!"

The door suddenly flew open, startling her. She jumped back when the old man came flying out, his pants only halfway up, fleeing the scene.

Danielle and Ricky doubled over with laughter as the old man ran along the building in a panic, trying to get his pants up.

Heather had just walked to the doorway of the motor home and saw the old man fleeing. "Look at that old bastard go," she said, laughing. "What's he so afraid of?"

Danielle couldn't catch her breath so she just pointed. Martha was headed their way in a rage.

"Uh oh," said Heather, "somebody's in for it."

"You sons-a-bitches knew he wasn't in there!" Martha shrieked, storming up.

Ricky and Danielle were laughing so hard they couldn't straighten up.

"It's no use with you two!" she yelled. "You can't take a goddamn thing serious!"

She turned to John. "And what the hell are you smiling about?" she hissed and started up the steps into the Nut Mobile.

She glared up at Heather, who was still standing in the doorway. "If you know what's good for you, you'll step out of my way."

Heather took one step down and jumped sideways to the ground. "That's just great, Mother," she complained. "I'm the one that has to ride with her now."

Danielle had finally gained enough composure to answer. "It's almost two o'clock," she said. "A little over an hour and you'll be out of the woods."

"Oh, great, an hour in hell, all caused by you two." Heather stomped off toward the restaurant.

"Ah shoot, now I have to go," sighed Danielle. She pulled a box of tissues out of the camper and headed into the surrounding desert.

"Oh, come on!" shouted Ricky. "The bathrooms can't be that bad."

"I'd rather poop on a rattlesnake than go in there," she yelled over her shoulder.

*

Jed and Heather were coming back to the motor home.

"You two had to start some crap, didn't you?" said Jed.

Ricky shrugged. "We saw an opportunity," he said. "The number-one responsibility of a Walnut is to never let opportunities slip by. You and Mother wrote that rule."

"Ahhh," said Jed. He waved his hand at Ricky and went into the motor home, slamming the door shut.

"Uh oh," said Heather, "hear that?"

"I don't hear anything," said John.

"Precisely," said Heather. "This could be bad if she's in one of her slow burns."

"Want to ride with us?" asked Ricky.

"Nah, poor Grandpa's the one that'll get it, if it comes before three," she said.

*

"Aren't you going to answer your phone?" asked Ricky. They were back on the main highway. "That's the tenth time it's rung."

"I don't feel like talking right now," answered Danielle.

"Pool Guy?" he asked.

"Probably."

Ricky leaned forward to look past Danielle. "So, John, what's your gig?"

"I am a writer doing a story."

"Really, how much you getting paid?" Ricky's attention was stirred.

Danielle looked at John, and with her eyes indicated for him to watch out.

"The money is not important," John said.

"Ah," Ricky replied, sitting back and nodding his head in appreciation of John's dedication. "If it's something you truly love, it should be enough to just accomplish the work. I like that. We'll have to talk."

"Leave him alone, Ricky," Danielle said. "He's not going to fall for any of your schemes."

"I have something that might interest him, that's all," Ricky told Danielle. "It's not right that you interfere. He's a man; let him make his own decisions." Ricky leaned forward to look over at John again. "Right, pal?"

"Yes, I think you are right about that," John said, but he winked secretly at Danielle so Ricky could not see it. Danielle smiled and nodded her head with approval. It was about time one of Ricky's operations was put down on paper.

*

"It's getting hot," Danielle said. She flipped the air conditioner on, and a blast of hot air mixed with a shot of dust hit her square in the face.

"Goddamn it!" she sputtered, spitting dust out of her mouth. "It figures the damn air conditioner is broken, and it's getting hotter than hell in here."

"Well, don't roll the window down. My joint won't stay lit," said Ricky.

"I don't give a damn about your joint. It's getting hot in here."

"Something is flapping behind us," said John.

"Oh no, that damn mattress is coming loose, again. We'd better pull over," Danielle said with disgust.

"Not yet," said Ricky. "Let's just make it to the next town up there and then we can stop someplace."

"Can you see back there, John? What's happening?" asked Danielle.

"All I can see is the mattress, and it seems to be coming off again."

"Goddamn it, Ricky, I told you, you didn't get it on good the last time!"

"I've put that thing back up there three times, and I'm getting sick of it."

"There it goes!" yelled John.

"Oh, great!" yelled Ricky, slamming on the brakes, throwing Danielle and John into the dash.

"Damn it, Ricky, be careful!"

They all got out. One end of the mattress had dragged on the roadway before it fell completely off and there was a large hole in the corner.

"Fuckin' mattress! That's it!" said Ricky, jumping up and down.

"What do we do now?" asked Danielle.

"It's ruined," he yelled, still jumping and flapping his arms around like a deranged person. "I'm not putting it back up there again. That's it!"

"We can't just leave it here. Besides, what are we going to sleep on?"

"Somebody will pick it up," he said, a little calmer now.

"Hey, the rest of its okay, and it's an expensive bed. I'll bet we can sell it," said Danielle.

"I'm not lugging that thing back on top of the camper again," Ricky protested.

"We'll just sell it here," she said.

"Do you think someone will stop?" asked Ricky, suddenly interested now that a dollar might be possible.

"Hey, it's worth a shot. I'm not for wrestling it back up there either," said Danielle. "What do you think, John?"

"If it could be sold, it would certainly make things easier," he agreed.

"Atta boy, John. Thinking like a Walnut already," added Ricky.

*

The three of them got the rest of the bed set off the camper, found a piece of cardboard, and made a For Sale sign.

The traffic going by was curious. Everyone slowed down to look; some even honked, at the spectacle by the roadside—three people lying on a bed, calmly sharing a bottle of wine. A half-hour had passed, however, and they still had no sale. No one seemed interested enough to stop.

"Damn it's getting hot," Danielle said, getting crabby.

"Want to just leave it?" asked Ricky. "I'm sick of this. We aren't going to make any money on this deal."

"Nah, just a little bit longer," she said. "Somebody's bound to stop. Besides, it would be nice to get some money for Mom and Dad. They aren't going to be too happy about this."

"I'm not giving them anything," declared Ricky. "I've had to do all the work. Besides, even if somebody does stop, we're not going to get much."

"Hell, I don't know about you," she added, "but I'm getting hungry, and come to think about it, just a free lunch would work for me."

"Hey, this pickup is slowing down," she said. "Run up there and stop them." She slapped Ricky's thigh to make him hurry.

He jumped off the bed and waved the For Sale sign over his head. The pickup was slowing, but it looked like it was just another looky-loo until the driver, a cowboy, got past the headboard and saw Danielle stretched out on the bed. He pulled over to the shoulder and stopped. He got out of the truck and started strutting toward them, the way macho cowboys do when there is a pretty lady watching.

"What you fellers selling?" he said in a slow, cowboy drawl.

"The bed," said Ricky.

"What about the gal?" the cowboy asked a big toothy grin on his face. He pushed his cowboy hat back smartly and nodded at Danielle.

"You couldn't possibly afford her," said Ricky, laughing.

"I just might have more money than you think," he crowed confidently

"You're still terribly short, Tex," said Danielle.

"Well, if that's your attitude—"

The cowboy stopped and looked like he was going to turn around.

"Wait," said Danielle. "We're tired of putting the damn thing back on top of the camper." She got up from the bed. "Do us a favor," she said sweetly, "and take it off our hands."

"Well, I'll tell you what," said the cowboy, "I have some plumbs and crookneck squash in those crates." He pointed back to his truck. "One of each and twenty-five dollars?"

"We'll take it!" Danielle and Ricky yelled in unison.

*

Ricky, Danielle, and John walked around Wanda's house to the back porch, where Jed, Martha, and Heather were talking. Ricky and John were each carrying a crate.

"What happened to you?" asked Martha. "You're all sunburnt. And what took you so long? We've been here for an hour."

"We had a little trouble, but we brought you some of those plums you love," said Danielle. Ricky and John put the crates down on the edge of the porch next to Jed.

"Hey, these are the good ones," he said, picking up a plum.

Martha looked suspiciously at Ricky and Danielle. "I know you two didn't spring for those. What's the catch?"

"Ah, I'm insulted," said Danielle. "We get you some of your favorite plums and you doubt us?"

"I repeat—what's the catch?"

Wanda called from inside the house. "Hey, Dad, I thought you said they were bringing a bed for us?"

"What?" shouted Jed. He jumped up immediately and ran to the corner of the house, where he could see the camper. He turned back toward the porch.

"Okay, what happened to the bed?"

"We sold it," said Danielle.

"What?" he shouted again. "What the hell were you thinking? That bed cost us fifteen hundred dollars!"

"It wouldn't stay tied to the truck," explained Danielle. "What else could we do?"

"You could have thought of something," shouted Martha.

"We did . . . We sold it." Danielle laughed.

"Something to get it here, smart-ass," growled Jed.

"We tied it back on three times, but it just kept slipping off. We didn't know what to do with it," said Ricky.

"That was a brand-new bed, and you just sold it? Where?" yelled Martha.

"On the side of the road, because it wouldn't stay on the camper." Danielle was tired of explaining. "I already told you."

"Well, where's the money?" asked Jed with his hand out. "How much did you get?"

"Enjoy the plumbs and squash," said Danielle.

"What?" yelled Jed. "A few plums for a valuable bed like that!"

"Don't forget the squash," she added. "And, actually, it wasn't that valuable because it had a big hole in it."

"It did not!" yelled Martha.

"Yes it did."

"It didn't when we put it on the truck," said Martha.

"It was dragging a little bit, I guess, before we noticed it had fallen off," Danielle confessed.

"What?" yelled Jed. "You clowns dragged a hole in that expensive mattress!"

"It fell of the truck. It wasn't our fault," said Ricky.

"Yeah! If you're looking for someone to blame, talk to the guy that tied it on the camper in the first place." Danielle shot a look at Jed, who started shaking his head.

"All you got was some plums and a box of crookneck squash," Jed said, beaten.

"We didn't think anybody else was going to stop, so we took the first offer," she explained. "You should really thank us for at least trying. It's not easy to sell a bed on the side of the road, especially with a hole in it."

"That's for sure," added Ricky. "The only reason anybody finally did stop was this guy saw the For Sale sign and was hoping it was Danielle we were trying to get rid of."

"Well, at least there might have been some profit "there"," said Martha.

"What makes you think we would have gotten any part of that deal either?" asked Jed. "You know these two."

"I resent that!" said Ricky. "You make it sound like I'm only a taker."

"You are only a taker," proclaimed Wanda, walking out to the porch. She was a little older than Danielle, resembled Ricky, and was extremely attractive, like all the Walnuts. "You have never given up anything unless there was a catch."

"I gave you that beautiful German shepherd," he countered.

"Ricky, you tried to get fifty bucks from me. The only reason I ended up with it was there was no one else to palm it off on. And by the way, that dog ate the seats out of my beautiful old Buick Riviera. And how come you're going to Red's wedding?" she added suspiciously.

"No reason," answered Ricky. "I just thought it would be nice to see him again."

"I don't think Red is going to be too happy seeing you because of the hookers," said Wanda.

"He wanted to charge me rent. I had to do something to make a few bucks," said Ricky.

"Try getting a job once in a while," Martha offered.

"Mother," said Danielle, laughing, "don't be talking foolishness."

"Well, if you want to know the truth, Red wasn't all that upset," said Ricky.

"Yeah, that's because, according to The Tomato, he had the hots for one of your girls," added Wanda.

"The Tomato, that's Red's wife-to-be," Danielle told John. "She was also propositioned by the neighbor, who was hoping she might be some of Ricky's merchandise."

"I think Red and The Tomato got over the call girl thing, but I don't know about the other fiasco," commented Wanda.

"Ricky had set up a little business growing pot on Red's ranch," Danielle explained.

"He smokes it too," added Ricky.

"Ricky," said Wanda, "he thought you were growing a couple plants, not a couple acres."

*

"Anything about the bathroom from Grandma?" Danielle asked Heather. Martha and Jed had gone inside, leaving Ricky, Danielle, Wanda, Heather, and John out on the porch.

Heather smiled. "Nope, not a word."

"Boy, we got her good, huh?" added Ricky.

"Yep."

"What are you talking about?" asked John.

"The bathroom at the old gas station," said Danielle. "Let me explain. My mother can be a real bear if you cross her, but if you can put one over on her like we did and there's no logical place for her to go with it, it will never be spoken of again."

"You got one over on her?" asked Wanda.

"We did," Danielle said proudly.

"Tell me about it?"

"Hey, I'm getting hungry," said Ricky. "Tell her later."

"I don't really have enough of anything to feed all of you," Wanda said.

"You knew we were all coming," criticized Ricky.

"Everyone always wants something different," complained Wanda.

"Well, let's go to that Mexican place," suggested Danielle. "They always have good food."

"Well, we can try," said Wanda.

Chapter 9

"Think they remember us?" asked Heather, as they waited to get a table.

"I don't know, it's been a couple of years," said Danielle. She turned to John. "I think we've been kicked out of this place every time we've come up here."

An important looking guy came over. "We're clearing a spot for you now," he said, eyeing the Walnuts.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Jed told John. "We've spent a lot of money in here."

"We should be okay this trip," said Danielle. "We'll only be here two days and it usually takes about a week for something serious to transpire."

"Mother," said Heather, "if I remember correctly, the second night we were in here Uncle Ricky got caught smoking pot with the kitchen staff."

"Yeah, but if you remember correctly, it wasn't until two days later, when they caught him shacked up with the waitress, that we got kicked out."

"Oh yeah, that's right."

Heather gestured to the important-looking man. "Hey, isn't that guy the owner?"

"Yeah, and if I remember correctly, he was married to that waitress."

Danielle looked at Ricky, who was calm as could be.

"I don't see her around, so don't worry," he said.

"I have your table ready," said the owner, still looking at the Walnuts like he was sure he knew them from somewhere.

*

Martha targeted Steve, Wanda's husband, as soon as they were seated. "So, Steve, what the hell are you up to these days?"

Wanda sat back with a sigh, her shoulders slumping like it was going to be a long night.

Steve didn't respond, hoping his silence would detract Martha's attention. But she just sat and glared at him.

"Well?" she finally added.

Steve sort of sighed, and then admitted, "I'm looking for a job."

Jed responded with a strangled laugh.

"That's one of the things I like about you," Martha returned quickly, "you never give up, no matter how long it takes."

Jed looked away, a sparkle in his eyes.

Steve didn't say anything.

"It's a tough job market out there," said Martha indicating outside with her thumb. "Especially if you're known to be undependable."

"Okay," Jed jumped in, "let's order some drinks!"

*

While Martha drank her beer, she periodically looked over at Steve, planning to retarget him, but the family deflected her. Jed kept looking to the doors from the kitchen, thinking if the food came in time she might forget about shellacking Steve.

*

"Mother," Wanda asked while the waitress distributed the food. "What's going on at the ranch?"

"We don't have much more planned, maybe a gazebo out on the lake," she said, then turned to Jed, giving him the Walnut Glare. "if we have any money left after this fiasco up here is fixed."

Wanda quickly tried to change the subject. "I hope it's not one of those cold winters. They're pretty but too long."

"It's going to be especially cold if you're living outside," answered Martha.

"Eat your food," said Jed.

"I'd think these two," Martha pointed to Steve and Wanda, "would be concerned about possibly having to live in the woods."

"That's a little far-fetched," said Steve.

Martha leaned forward over the table. "You have a plan if you get the plug pulled on you?"

"I don't want to get into anything with you, Martha." Steve was holding his voice down. "The food is especially good here."

"You don't seem to be in the mood for a discussion," Martha prodded him. "What's the problem, you don't get to come here often?"

She still hadn't touched her food, but Jed was eating like he expected to be out the door at any moment.

"I come here all the time," said Steve, his mouth full.

"Bullshit," Martha scoffed. "Jed's the only one dumb enough to pick up your check. You're too well-known in these parts."

A man, unfamiliar to the Walnuts, walked up to the table and said, almost as if on cue, "Steve, haven't seen you in a long time. What brings you in here?"

"A free meal!" shouted Martha. She stood up and stared down at Steve. "Ha! See, I told you. You're busted."

"I don't have to take this!" he shouted.

"You're right, you don't, so leave," said Martha, leaning forward.

"I haven't finished my meal yet," he growled.

"I say you have!" she shouted.

Martha grabbed his plate with both hands and in one motion sent his enchiladas straight at his head. Steve quickly dodged the plateful of rich red sauce and sticky cheese, but a fellow sitting with his back to the fracas had no chance to see what was coming. Jed, seeing the launch, quickly filled his fork with the burrito he was eating.

Moments later the owner stormed over to their table. "I thought I knew you people! I've had trouble with you before!" he stated, and then he threw the Walnuts out.

*

"We didn't even last an hour," said Danielle, standing on the sidewalk.

"That son of a bitch wouldn't let me finish my beer!" hollered Martha. "I'm never coming back to this place!"

"I'm still hungry," added Heather.

"Get some food from Ricky, he took everything in doggie bags," said Jed, looking over the lengthy bill.

"It's paid for, so I think they owe us that much," said Ricky.

"How bout it, Uncle Ricky, what'cha got in there?" asked Heather.

"I'm the one that went to all the trouble, and now you want to share?" he asked.

"Who would have thought a guy would be wearing an expensive jacket in a dump like this?" Jed grumbled, fretting about the cost of replacing the jacket ruined by the Enchiladas.

"I need a beer!" shouted Martha.

"Oh, shut up for Christ's sake," growled Jed. "Do you know how much this cost me?"

"Always worried about a damn dime," said Martha.

"What? You have no concept of what a dime is!"

"I'll give you a dime's worth of my wrath, and then you'll have a pretty good idea."

Jed shook his head and returned his attention to the bill.

The owner came outside, pointing at Ricky and shouting, "Now I remember! You're the one that my Emelda ran off with!"

"You're wrong, sir!" Danielle stepped in. "She didn't go with my brother. She was running behind our car when we left town."

"She never came back to me," lamented the owner.

Danielle moved over to him. "I'm sorry. Honest, the last we saw her was when we drove over the hill."

"She never came back," he cried.

"She must have a great set of legs," commented Heather. "Sounds like she just kept on going."

Jed gave Heather the Walnut Glare.

"Yes, I seem to remember that very thing," said Ricky.

Jed gave Ricky the same look.

"Why do you do that to women?" Wanda asked.

"Do what?"

"Talk them into taking a chance with you, and then running away."

"It gives them hope."

"What?" added Jed, looking at Ricky with disgust. "You're the last thing any woman hopes for."

Chapter 10

"I'm getting sick of Steve clinging to you and pouting just because we're here," Danielle told Wanda, sitting in the kitchen the next morning with John. "When I go to the store I'll get some Parmesan, and we'll have some fun with him."

Wanda laughed. "Brilliant, that always works."

"Parmesan? Isn't that a type of cheese?" asked John.

"Yeah," said Danielle.

"When you get tired of his childish behavior, cheese can work?"

"Ooh yeah," Danielle and Wanda said in unison.

"Who's being childish?" asked Heather, walking in.

"Oh, your Uncle Steve. He's pouting because we're all here," said Danielle.

"Well, just get some Parmesan." Heather laughed briefly, and then looked annoyed. "Mother, your cell has been ringing and ringing and ringing."

"Where's Babad Bob?" Wanda asked Danielle.

"At home. He's all pissed off because I wouldn't let him come on this trip."

"I still do not understand," said John. "I mean, if he is your boyfriend . . ."

"Bob and Wanda, especially, don't like each other," Danielle said.

"Especially?" asked Wanda. "I'd like to see him dead and buried."

"Oh, come on, he's not that bad."

"His eyes spin in different directions."

"That's cause he's certifiably nuts," said Heather.

"Good morning, snot. Another day starts off with a kind word from a horrible teenager."

"Not! And Grandpa and Grandma can't stand him either."

"You guys are just sticking up for Ricky." She turned to John. "Ricky and Bob got into a hassle over a missing ring, and now Bob's the jerk in their eyes."

"John, he's friggin' weird," said Wanda. "I tell you, I can see it in his eyes. More coffee?"

"No, thanks. I had too much yesterday and I had sparks flying between my fingertips."

"John!" said Danielle. "You told a joke. My God, everyone, Space John is among us." She lifted her empty mug and shook it at Wanda. "Bob's not that bad," she said as Wanda filled her mug. "He just tries to defend himself, and you guys are so vicious."

"He's gonna catch on fire someday," said Wanda.

"We just joke about it," Danielle told John. "I mean, he's really intense, for sure, but it couldn't really happen."

"Yes, it can," said Heather. "Because of spontaneous combustion. The over stimulation of the nervous system can cause heat to build up, and then cause combustion in the fat molecules, and that would be Bob."

"Ah," said Danielle, "where do you get this stuff?"

"Actually, she's partly right," said John.

Everyone suddenly looked at him.

"I mean, I heard the same thing somewhere," he said quickly, trying to back out of the conversation.

"I know stress can damage the immune system," said Danielle, "but as far as catching on fire . . ."

"Arguing is stress to the max," said Wanda, "and all you and Babad Bob do is argue."

"We argue about you guys," Danielle said.

"Well, stress is the worst possible thing for you," said Wanda. "Everyone knows it's unhealthy, and it destroys your immune system, so there."

"I was wondering what happened to my immune system," said Jed as he walked into the kitchen, tilting his nose up. "What were you discussing fire for?"

"We were telling John about Babad Bob," said Heather. "How he's going to burst into flames someday."

"Wouldn't surprise me a bit. That idiot is wound way too tight." He looked at Danielle. "Your cell phone is ringing again."

"Pool Boy," said Heather.

"Who's Pool Boy?" asked Wanda.

"Another gem from "The House of Danielle"," Jed commented.

Danielle gave her father the Walnut Glare, the one that warned there would be trouble if the direction didn't change.

"What are we going to do about this house?" asked Wanda, sensing the need to change the subject.

"Why are you asking me?" asked Jed.

"Dad, that's the reason you came here. This house needs to be fixed," said Wanda. "You're the owner, so I'd think—"

Martha walked into the room. "What would you think?"

"We were talking about the house," said Wanda.

"The house that Jack built is a pile of junk," said Martha.

"Now, Mother, it has a certain charm," said Danielle.

"I'm afraid to flush the loo," returned Martha.

"There is nothing wrong with the toilets!" said Wanda.

"What?" Jed shouted. "Nothing wrong? You can't use any paper in them."

"Steve and his buddy got a real good price on the pipe. It was just the wrong size," said Wanda.

Jed picked some papers up off the counter. "What's this citation from the county?"

"Which one?" asked Wanda.

"'Improper septic disposal.'"

"Something about the septic tank," said Wanda.

"It doesn't work right? . . . It's the wrong one? . . . What?"

"There isn't one," she said quietly.

"What? I distinctly remember giving you the money for the septic system. I have the canceled check at home."

"They were so expensive, so Steve figured we could do without."

"And spent the money!" Jed exclaimed. "So, where does all the sewage go?"

"Down to the stream," she said, almost in a whisper.

"What?" he hollered even louder. "And you didn't think anybody would notice when your turds went floating by. My God, do you realize how much this is going to cost?"

"We had the proper permit. Steve's buddy from the county signed it off."

"Where is this guy? I need to talk to him."

Jed took his pen out, ready to get the information.

"I don't think it would do any good," said Wanda.

"I'll be the judge of that," he said, still ready with the pen.

"He's in prison."

Jed wasted no time. "Okay, next item. 'Improper main electrical panel.' Explain this one, please."

"That big, gray box thingy was supposed to be outside," she explained.

"Yeah?" Jed waited for an answer. Getting nothing, he finally asked, "And where is it?"

Wanda shrugged. "In the parlor."

"What? What's it doing in there?"

"Well, you know how much it snows up here, and how cold it gets. I just figured it would be easier to read if it was inside."

"You don't have to read it!" Jed threw his arms up. "The people from the power company do that!"

"I know, but the old guy used to like to come inside and smoke a joint with us."

Jed just stared at Wanda, apparently stymied.

"That makes sense," said Danielle, a neutral look on her face.

"The house that Jack built," said Martha, shaking her head.

"How come there isn't any hot water?" asked Heather.

"The hot and cold pipes got mixed up somewhere," said Wanda.

"Have you tried to find out where?" asked Jed.

"Of course," Wanda responded indignantly. "We've gone over all the pipes. Do you think we haven't tried to fix "anything"?"

Jed sighed. "Well, what's the problem?"

"The problem is that the problem is inside the walls . . . somewhere," said Wanda, shrugging again.

"Oh, Christ," said Jed.

"The house that Jack built," added Martha.

The last to wake up, Ricky finally joined them in the kitchen.

"I couldn't open my window last night," he said

"Weeell, . . ." said Wanda, hesitating to finish her thought.

"Come on, spit it out," demanded Jed.

"The guy that put in the windows put them in backwards," she finally admitted.

Danielle laughed, nearly choking on her coffee. "Backwards?"

"Yeah, the locks are on the outside," said Wanda.

"Well, that certainly explains why you've been having trouble with break-ins," said Martha, shaking her head and laughing incredulously.

"I guess so." Wanda sounded miffed by everything going against her.

"Every time they leave," Danielle told John, "somebody comes and steals all their food."

"I can't believe how much this is going to cost," said Jed.

"I told you not to just give them the money," said Martha, disgusted, "but no, you were convinced they knew what they were doing. The house that Ja—"

"Will you stop with the "Jack shit"!" he shouted.

"Well, if the shoe fits!" Martha glared at Jed.

"What does it mean the house that Jack built?" asked John.

"The guys that built it were jack-offs, or jackasses. Take your pick," Danielle told him.

"And we can safely put an X in that box," stated Martha.

"Blaming everybody is not going to—," Jed started to say.

"Oh no, don't try to duck this one,"—Martha pointed at Jed—"you're "it"! How the hell they managed to pull the wool so far over your eyes, I can't imagine."

"He was very impressed with the contractor that night," said Danielle. "They set him up good."

"What do you know about this?" demanded Martha.

"I was with them," she said. "We went down to the bar to meet Steve's buddy, the contractor, and . . ."

Jed gave Danielle the Walnut Glare, but she just glared right back at him.

"And what?" demanded Martha. She had that look on her face that said this was not going away until she was satisfied.

"I doubt if your recollections are going to be entirely correct," proclaimed Jed, looking at Danielle, hoping to duck the consequences.

"I was the only sober one there," said Danielle, laughing.

"What did the old fool do?" asked Martha.

"He didn't do anything except sign on the dotted line," said Danielle, "but they were feeding him beers, and Steve's buddy's girlfriend was sitting on his lap."

"You men are all so stupid!" yelled Martha. "I suppose she was some kind of looker?"

"She was," confirmed Danielle. "Big knockers too."

"Figures. So they got your pecker hard and of course you signed right up," she scolded. "What're you going to do now?"

"I'm on it!" Jed shouted. "I've got a guy coming in a couple of hours to straighten this whole mess out," he declared and stalked out of the room.

"This guy is probably bringing the same dame they used on the old fool the last time," said Martha. "The word gets around up here."

Everybody laughed.

*

"Danielle," Wanda yelled from inside, "there's a call for you."

Danielle got up and went inside.

"Who would be calling her here?" Martha asked.

"Pooool Boooy," said Heather.

"How'd he get this number?"

"Mother gave it to him." Heather shook her head. "He promised to watch our place while we're gone, water the plants and everything."

"He's probably there right now, running around the living room with a pair of your panties over his head," said Ricky, standing in the doorway.

"Oh my God!" screamed Heather. "Mother!" she hollered and ran inside.

"That wasn't very nice," said Martha.

"I was just kidding."

*

"Ricky!" shouted Danielle, coming to the door. "That wasn't funny! Heather is really upset."

"I was just kidding her," he said, laughing.

"Yeah, well, Ferkle isn't too happy about the joke either."

"Ferkle?"

"Yes, Ferkle, the one you accused of wearing Heather's underwear."

"I didn't accuse anyone; I was just making a joke."

"Well, he is an extremely serious, responsible person, and you upset him greatly."

Jed came around the corner of the porch. "What? This is the guy that spends all day cleaning your pool, waiting for your appearance, and we're talking responsible?"

"Every time I see him, he is hard at work," Danielle stated.

"Have you ever heard of him cleaning another pool?" asked Martha, on the verge of laughing.

"Ferkle is a very sweet guy that just wants to be helpful and is asking nothing in return." Danielle sounded annoyed and went back inside.

"Here we go again," said Jed, "she's turned over another rock."

"Yeah, another knight in shining tinfoil!" said Martha.

*

"I can smell that stinky sock cheese!" Steve shouted. "Why do you do this to me?"

"Oh, lighten up for Christ's sake," Wanda said as Steve ran out of the kitchen.

"I'm not coming in the house when you're all eating that shit!" he yelled from outside.

Steve pressed his face against the screen of the open kitchen window.

"I can't even be in my own house!"

"Oh, don't be so stupid, you don't have to eat it," said Martha.

"You know I can't stand that smell!"

"Mmm, this is so good. Here have a taste," Danielle said, holding a forkful of pasta and Parmesan cheese up to the screen.

"Get that smelly stuff away from me!"

Heather took the Parmesan container and lifted it to her mouth, shaking it until a substantial stream of shredded cheese flowed into her mouth.

"You are all assholes!" shouted Steve while gagging. "That stuff smells like dirty old socks!"

"You ought to know," said Wanda, "as often as you wash yours!"

"You go ahead and eat your stinky shit," he yelled over his shoulder, running away from the house. "I'm not coming back until you're finished."

"At least we know how to get rid of him," said Danielle.

"Yeah, works every time," said Wanda.

"What is his problem?" said Heather. "I can't believe he hates it that much. You'd think we were eating dog shit or something."

"Heather," said Martha. "Don't talk like that."

"Oh, Grandma, for gosh sake, I hear you use 'shit' all the time."

"Well, I'm not a young girl either."

"You can say that again," added Jed, walking into the kitchen.

"You hush up, Nut Head, you old fool! You're the one that stole my youth."

"What? Your youth couldn't keep up with your antics. Don't blame that on me."

*

An hour later, an official-looking pickup truck turned onto the road leading down to the house.

"You people behave yourselves," said Jed. "This could get very expensive, and I don't want any of your shenanigans to upset this guy." Jed headed quickly out the door.

"Hey, he's kinda cute," Wanda said, looking out the window. "Danielle, flash him your tits," she yelled loud enough for Jed to hear.

Jed spun around. "This is exactly what I was talking about. I ask you to behave, and you just can't."

"Oh, lighten up, Jed. They're just kidding," yelled Martha.

*

"Jed LaFluers?" asked the man getting out of the county pickup. He was of a small stature but decent-looking. Jed wasted no time and shook the much smaller man's hand vigorously.

"Look at Dad sucking up," said Danielle. "Look, he's even trying to hunch down so he's not so tall."

"Do you think if there was a hole nearby, he'd stand in it?" Wanda speculated.

"You bet your ass," said Martha, laughing. "He'd stand on his head to save a buck."

Jed and the county inspector headed around to the back of the house.

*

Everyone was sitting at the kitchen table a while later when Jed and the inspector came in. Danielle was at the sink with her back to everyone, her long, shapely legs left almost entirely bare by her short shorts.

"I'm rather astonished by the extent of the repairs that you are recommending, Bob," whined Jed, a concerned look on his face.

"Well, Mr. LaFlu—"

"I've told you, it's Jed, please."

"Yes, Jed, well it's like I said before, these are not really suggestions but more like mandatory items that . . ." Bob spotted Danielle at the sink. The sight of her backside momentarily disrupted his train of thought.

"Bob, I'm so sorry. I didn't introduce you to my family," Jed said quickly, moving to the center of the kitchen. "This is my wife, Martha, my son, Ricky." He pointed to each individual. "My daughter Wanda, my granddaughter, Heather, and my youngest, Danielle." Jed pointed to Danielle, who was still standing with her back to everyone. "Danielle," he said, "could you please say hello to Bob? He's here to advise us on the house."

"Oh, hi, Bob," she said, just partially turning her head.

Bob gave a slight gasp when he got a glimpse of Danielle's face.

"Danielle, for gosh sake, don't be rude," said Martha.

Wanda poked John's arm and whispered in his ear, "They're figuring if they play this one right, this rube will sign off on the house."

"What is their plan?" asked John.

"He's got the hots for Danielle. Unless he leaves immediately, he's dead meat."

"Could someone fall for this?"

Wanda looked strangely at John. "No wonder they claim you're an alien."

"Danielle," said Jed, "Bob here just started as the inspector for the county and has no knowledge of the lore and mystique of the area." Jed was getting peeved that Danielle wasn't playing along. "I know how much you like to contribute in this area."

"Hicks are hicks. What else does he need to know?" she asked, turning to face him.

Suddenly, Bob no longer looked intent on sticking it to Jed. He had found a new interest.

Danielle sashayed over to Bob, looked him in the eye, and asked, "What is a cultured person like you doing hiding out in the sticks?"

"I . . . ah . . . I'm not sure."

"Dead meat," Wanda said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Bob didn't seem to notice Wanda's comment. He was so enthralled with Danielle that it was looking good for Jed's scheme.

"So tell me about yourself, Mr. Inspector," Danielle said, sitting down at the table, smiling at the county watchdog.

Before Bob could speak, Jed jumped in. "Say, Bob, we're heading into town to get something to eat. Would you like to tag along?" he asked with a proud smile.

*

There was only one respectable place in town, The Cow and Brew. Jed had finagled everyone into the seating arrangement he figured would do the most good. Bob sat next to Danielle, naturally, at the far end of the long table. Martha and Jed were at the other end. Heather and Ricky sat to their right, Wanda and John to their left.

"I don't know why we had to come here?" said Martha.

Jed gave her a stern look. "Because a bar fight is not what we need right now, that's why."

"This is just going to backfire in your face, as usual," she said.

"Well, at least I'm trying to do something."

"I was completely tired of the rat race and came to the mountains for a quieter, simpler life," stated Bob, gazing at Danielle.

"That's reason enough. I know I get tired of all the craziness sometimes," she said.

"Ha, he's looking for the simple life, and he's walked into this!" Martha said loud enough for everyone to hear. "Say, Inspector Bob," Martha yelled down the table, "what are you hiding from?"

"Ma'am?" said Bob, finally taking his eyes off Danielle.

"What chased you out of the flatlands?"

"I was tired of the rat race, as I mentioned to your daughter, and—"

"Where's your wife?"

"Oh, for gosh sake, Martha, leave the man alone," Jed pleaded.

"My wife?"

"Yeah, your wife. A prissy milquetoast like you has a wife somewhere. Guys like you don't exist on their own."

"Mother," said Danielle, annoyed.

"My wife left me," Bob said, almost breaking down.

"There, now we've got the truth. Don't you feel better Inspector Bob?"

"My wife didn't understand me," continued Bob. "I tried hard to make every day as organized as possible, so problems could be met head on and taken care of immediately. But I was so involved with my job that she said she felt betrayed and left with the children."

"In other words, you bored her to death."

Jed looked disgruntled but kept his mouth shut.

Wanda whispered to John, "My mother is messing with Dad's plan, as usual. She said it would backfire, and now she'll do anything to be proven right, even if it costs him a bundle."

"Mother," said Danielle, "you can be so cruel."

"Bob feels better with the truth on the table, don't you, Bob?"

"I don't know, I guess. My therapist recommends . . ."

"He's got a head doctor. Christ, this is worse than I—"

"Oh good," said Jed, "the drinks are here."

"Oh, Bob got a reprieve," Wanda said quietly to John.

"He is off the hook then?" asked John.

"Maybe. It depends on where she's focused when she's starting her fifth beer," Wanda explained. "If it's somewhere else, he'll get off. If not, we'll get to see what he's made of."

Bob was taking advantage of the lull in conversation and was telling Danielle that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

*

The dinner went smoothly, and Bob had escaped the wrath of Martha, who was taking the first drink of beer number five and talking loudly. She started in on Ricky.

"I don't know why you're going up there. I don't think Red's going to be too happy."

"Hey, we've already gone over this," said Ricky, annoyed.

"I don't know exactly what transpired up there when you were living with him, but I can about imagine. You're a no-good S.O.B., so you behave up at Red's, you hear me?"

Jed got up and headed down to the other end of the table.

"Say, Bob, I don't know if you're doing anything this weekend, but we're all heading up to a wedding, and if you would like, you can come along."

"Oh God!" said Heather.

Jed shot her the look.

"Well, I don't know," Bob replied, looking at Danielle. Her expression gave him no indication of what she thought of the offer. "Would you mind if . . ."

"Oh, come on, Bob. Actually, you'd be doing us a favor," Jed added.

"How's that?" Danielle asked.

"We're going to be crowded, so Bob could drive his car."

"Yes, I certainly would be willing to help out," Bob offered, gazing longingly at Danielle.

"What do you think, Danielle?" Jed asked.

"I don't know, I thought this was a family deal."

"You were complaining that the air is broken in the camper, and the motor home will be crowded." Jed was watching Bob, who was holding his breath while Danielle contemplated.

"I guess," she finally said.

"Oh, great," said Bob.

"Oh, wonderful," said Heather, exasperated, "another freakin' Bob."

*

As they were leaving the restaurant, Danielle politely declined Bob's after-hour request but promised to see him the next day.

"Hey, Bob!" Heather shouted. "You're a technical man. What's the first thing a woman looks for in a vibrator?"

"Heather!" shouted Danielle.

"Ah, I don't . . ."

"Can it, snot," threatened Danielle, "or it is two more weeks."

"Not!" Heather said, walking away. "A warranty!" she added.

Danielle started laughing hysterically.

*

"Wanda was not kidding about the fifth beer," John said on the drive back to Wanda's house.

"Yeah, but in her defense, she doesn't drink the first one until three P.M.," said Danielle. "That is her rule. But don't be blocking the refrigerator, or cooler, at T minus one or you're in for big trouble. And if you see her pick up number seven in the same evening, you're also in for a big stink."

"How did this house that Jack built get so messed up?" John asked as they drove up the driveway.

"My parents gave Steve the money to build it, and he hired his stoner buddies. They probably spent most of the money on drugs and beer, and no telling what else."

"Why would Jed give money out like that? Surely, he must have expected some difficulties?"

"He was afraid that Wanda and Steve would have to come and live with them," said Danielle. "They didn't have any other place to go, and my mother would have made his life miserable, so Dad told them he would give them a house. They had these really neat plans. The house looked good on paper but didn't come out so hot. The county has been trying to condemn it for a couple of years, but Steve and Wanda were paying off the inspectors with pot they grow out back. But the new inspector, Bob, is a problem, and now they're in trouble."

"Wanda said they were trying to use you to soften him up."

"We're Walnuts. Anything that might work is considered."

"You do not mind being used like that?"

"Hey, they get tossed out and they'll be headed in our direction."

"Oh, I see."

"I wouldn't mind Wanda, but Steve? No way."

Chapter 11

The trip to Red's wedding was scheduled to start at 8:00 a.m., but at 10:00 it was still stuck in the blocks. The travel arrangements were all decided. Bob was there patiently waiting by his car, a gorgeous, old Cadillac. Heather and John were outside with Jed, waiting to go.

"I told you, Grandpa," said Heather, "we won't be out of here until noon."

"I made it clear that we had to be on the road by nine."

Ricky and Wanda came out of the house.

"Okay," said Wanda, "Ricky and I are a go for the road, but Danielle is still getting ready. I wouldn't expect her for another half an hour, at least."

"What?" shouted Jed. "That won't do at all!"

"You go try to hurry her up. You know it won't do any good," said Wanda.

"What the hell is the big deal? It's just a road trip for Christ's sake!" said Jed.

"Grandpa, you guys go through this every time. Mother is not going to rush for anyone," Heather said, laughing.

"Well, I have a mind to leave her," he said.

"You never do," said Heather.

Martha came out and announced, "The princess is putting on the final touches, everyone. We will soon be blessed with her presence."

"What the hell has she been doing for the last two hours?" asked Jed.

"On the phone," said Heather. "What do you think? Pooool Boooy has been calling constantly."

"Who's Pool Boy?" Bob asked with concern in his voice.

"Your competition," stated Heather.

"Oh, I didn't . . ."

"Oh, don't worry, Bob, you're at least his equal," said Heather, picking up on his insecurity.

Jed gagged trying to stifle his laugh. Heather looked at John, who acknowledged her contribution with a nod and a smile.

"What are the travel arrangements, Jed?" Martha asked.

"Well, Ricky and Wanda can take off now with the pickup."

"We need gas," said Ricky.

"You don't have any money, as usual?"

"It's your truck," said Ricky.

"Goddamn it, I'm not giving you the gas card just like that."

"We will wait then," Ricky said officially.

"Heather can ride with Danielle and Bob, John can come with us."

"Well, yes, that would be . . . okay," said Bob, disappointed.

"I'm not riding with them!" yelled Heather. "I have no interest in more dripping Bob love. Besides, it won't be safe because his eyes won't be on the road."

"Well, if that's your wish, my dear," said Bob, delighted.

"Save the mush for my mother."

Danielle came out dressed in a revealing sun dress.

"Oh my gosh," Bob murmured.

"Come on, let's get going," commanded Danielle. "What's everyone standing around for?"

"We were waiting for you, Mother," said Heather.

"We have a lot of miles to cover, so don't blame it on me," said Danielle, looking at Bob's car. "Oh, what a lovely car! I just love old Cadillacs. They're so romantic. Come on, Heather, let's hit the road."

Bob hurried to get the door for Danielle.

"I'm riding with Grandpa and Grandma," Heather said.

"You don't want to spend some time with me? We could have a nice talk." Danielle sounded hurt.

"Bob wants you all to himself," Heather said snottily.

Bob suddenly looked worried. "That's not true," he said, "I—"

"Oh, don't mind the little snot. Let's get going. We're late," Danielle said, sliding into the car, her dress hiking up her thigh.

Bob gulped.

"John," Danielle called.

She leaned over and turned to pull the front seat forward, causing her sundress to part away from her chest.

Bob gulped again.

"Come on, you can ride with us. You haven't lived until you've traveled down the road in a sexy, old Caddy."

Bob stood transfixed by the turn of events.

"Is he going to keep his eyes on the road?" asked John as he climbed into the back seat.

"Come on, Bob, let's get a move on. You're going to make us late," snapped Danielle, smoothing her dress down tight against her body.

Bob raced around to the driver's side.

*

"Say, John, what is it you do?" Bob asked when they got a few miles down the highway.

"He's a writer," Danielle answered for him.

"That's a tough road," said Bob. "Very few of you fellows make anything of yourselves."

"It is the challenge of it all," John said quietly.

"I guess a challenge is okay as long as you can put meat on the table," Bob said. "A man needs to consider the responsibility he has to the ones that depend on him."

"I am alone on this one," admitted John.

"Ah, the free spirit. It must be nice to have to worry about just yourself." Bob shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Myself, on the other hand, I think that life is so much fuller when you devote your life to someone else." Bob reached over and patted Danielle's hand.

"Yes, a woman appreciates a man that takes responsibility for someone other than himself," Danielle returned in a silky tone.

"My feelings exactly, beautiful lady."

Bob was in hog heaven—his shoulders thrown back, one hand on the wheel, and the situation, like the big old car, firmly in his grasp.

"It's so refreshing to meet someone like you, someone with a beautiful head on her shoulders. Someone that isn't attracted to the bad boys."

"Oh, I love bad boys," Danielle said, giggling naughtily. "They seem to be my downfall."

John could see the confusion on Bob's face and almost felt sorry for him because Danielle was messing with his head.

Bob was suddenly having trouble keeping the car in the middle of the lane.

"I have to say, Danielle," John said, "I am glad I have been able to spend this time with you and your family. It's interesting to be able to watch how personal relations develop."

Danielle turned around so Bob couldn't see and smiled slyly at John. "I'm glad you're able to understand."

"So, Bob," Danielle turned back to the front, "what do you think about the house?"

"I can't understand how things could have gotten so out of control," he said, shaking his head.

"Oh, things are so complicated these days. My father sure appreciates you coming to the rescue, and so do I. I would be so grateful if you could help him out. He's getting old and shouldn't have to worry about so many things." Danielle reached over and patted Bob's hand. "You're a kind and honest man, Bob. I can sense that in you."

John looked out to the side hoping Bob wouldn't see the grin on his face.

*

The three had traveled many more miles down the road, staying right behind the Nut Mobile.

"I predict the Nut Mobile will be getting thirsty sometime soon," Danielle said.

"What kind of range do they have?" asked John.

"It should be able to go five or six hundred miles on a tank," said Bob.

Both John and Danielle laughed.

"Did I say something funny?" Bob asked, sounding hurt.

"No, it's a Walnut joke," said Danielle.

"What kind of joke is that?"

"You'd have to be a Walnut, Bob," Danielle said.

"Is John a Walnut?" Bob asked cynically.

"He's in training," she said quickly.

"I'd like to be a Walnut," Bob whined.

"You don't have what it takes, Bob. You'd have to forsake responsibility for everyone but yourself," she said.

"Oh."

"And that is about the extent of its range," Danielle said as the turn signal flashed on the Nut Mobile.

*

"Is that one there?" asked John as they neared a bar and restaurant.

"One what?" asked Bob.

Danielle ignored him. "Yes, but notice the lack of pickups. Not hardly enough excitement for a Walnut to consider."

"Ah, there are many things to account for," commented John.

"If you're going to do it right, yes, there are," Danielle confirmed.

Bob tried to jump in. "What are you talking about?"

"Just pay attention, Bob. It'll be clear when it happens," said Danielle. "There, there on the left, there's the one the Walnuts will honor," she said, pointing.

*

"You wouldn't happen to know anyone who has a goat?" Jed shouted at the bartender.

The establishment the Walnuts had chosen was crowded and lively.

"We're not buying a goat," Martha yelled loudly.

"What do you want a goat for?" the bartender asked suspiciously.

Jed gestured to Martha with his head. "Her boyfriend wants one."

"Trying to get even, huh?" said the bartender.

"No, I'm beyond that type of behavior."

"Well, I have a goat, but he's not the most pleasant of creatures."

"You do?" said Jed. "Do you want to sell him?"

"Not if he's going to end up as a taco platter," said the bartender. "Not that the idea hasn't been tossed around now and then. Goats are not the most pleasant of creatures, you know."

"I promise, he will not end up as a food group."

Jed held his hand up like he was taking an oath.

"Goddamn it, Jed!" shouted Martha. "I said, we are not buying a goat! You don't know anything about them."

"They stink like hell," stated Wanda. "I'm not riding with a goat."

Jed turned on Wanda and growled, "Oh? Well, you're between a rock and a hard place then, and they're both a couple hundred miles from here, and your shoes look worn."

"Very funny," said Wanda. "You know, you guys always do this. Bring us into one of your harebrained schemes and then everything goes to hell!"

"Oh? And whose dime are you getting drunk on? Let me ask you that," said Martha.

"There are plenty of gentlemen in here"—Wanda turned to the hopeful male patrons that had gathered close to the Walnut sisters—"that would be honored to buy a lady a drink."

A chorus of men immediately yelled to the other bartender, "Buy that lady a drink, on me!"

Wanda turned her attention to the many drink offers.

"Now, is that goat for sale or not?" Jed asked the bartender.

"How much you willing to pay?"

"Name your price."

"Well now, you have to understand that Billy has been in the family—"

"Billy?" asked Danielle, who had taken Wanda's place at the bar with Bob. They were wedged in the crowd, anxiously watching the bargaining.

"It's a billy goat," said the bartender.

"A boy goat? Aren't they a lot of trouble?" asked Danielle.

"They can be," he said.

"Christ, it's not like we're taking him home with us!" cried Jed. "What's wrong with you people? He's only going to Red's and no farther. It's not even two hundred miles up the road."

"That's at least two bars up the road, and therein lays the problem," stated Danielle.

"They stop at all the bars?" asked Bob.

"Will you all stop!" shouted Jed. "We are in very delicate negotiations here."

"Well, I'm sure I will miss old Billy."

"He "will" too!" a patron shouted. "When his wife boots him out, that's where he ends up. I'm sure Billy and him have a meaningful relationship."

The bartender gave the man a wrathful stare as everyone broke out laughing. "You're cut off, Gus. Get your ass out, now!" He pointed to the door.

"Okay, mister, let's get back to this deal before anyone else feels like they have to add their two cents."

"Fifty bucks," stated Jed.

"A hundred," responded the bartender.

"What!" shouted Jed. "For that much, I'm inclined to believe old Gus."

The bar broke out in laughter again. Somebody bleated like a goat.

"What are they talking about?" asked Bob.

"Animal love, dear heart," answered Danielle.

"Oh my gosh!" said Bob.

The bartender's face turned red as the laughter and the bleating continued.

"Well?" said Jed.

"Seventy-five and he's yours."

"Done!"

*

"Do you believe it? The old fool got lucky," Martha said. She shook her head and pointed her empty bottle at the bartender. "What the hell are we going to do with a goat?"

"We can put it in the motor home," said Jed.

"I don't want goat shit in there!"

"Billy is a house pet, and very clean," said the bartender, obviously insulted.

"I'll put him in the camper," said Jed.

Jed and the bartender headed out the door.

*

Wanda's new opportunity for free beer didn't last. After four, she fell off her stool and landed hard on her ass. She propped herself up against the bar.

John had spotted her going down and was there shooing away a couple of male customers who obviously found her even more beautiful in her defenseless state.

One of the men gave John a hostile look, not taking the hint that Wanda was no longer interested in his advances. John put his hand on Wanda's forehead, and immediately she began to wretch and gag. The man looked disappointed as he pulled back to let John help Wanda to her feet and out of the bar.

*

The action in the bar centered once again on Danielle. Her sundress, which accentuated her stunning looks, was something this bar rarely saw. The excitement was understandable. The more sophisticated of the males, the ones with a loftier opinion of themselves, were hovering near Danielle, who wasn't drinking. Bob was fighting for position as hard as the next guy and was getting frustrated. It seemed that having arrived with the gorgeous woman meant little to the prowling men.

A tall, solid, good-looking construction worker elbowed his way right next to Danielle. "I know you're looking for me, so why don't we cut the crap and get down to business?" he said, his face coming down close to hers.

"You seem pretty sure of yourself," she responded.

"I get what I want, especially when it comes to pretty women," he puffed with confidence.

"How come you're not with one then?" Danielle smiled.

"I'm making myself available for you because this is your lucky day."

Danielle laughed. "Is that the sort of line that works here in Jerk Water Junction?"

"Got a mouth to go along with those jugs, I see." The construction worker got more encouragement from the crowd when they cheered his last observation.

"I've got a boyfriend that's quicker than a rattlesnake," said Danielle. "You get past him and I might consider your offer, "stud"."

"You talking about that little feller there?" The construction worker pointed at Bob, who looked like he had just crapped in his pants.

"No, I'm talking about that quiet feller there." Danielle pointed at John, who was standing back, as usual, to watch what was happening and staying out of the action.

The construction worker eyed him intently. John just smiled.

"What kind of game you playing, lady?" asked the construction worker.

"Why, the game you started," she said sweetly. "You said you had what it takes, and I'm not sure you do."

"And you want me to go up against the quiet feller there?"

"Sure. If you can't handle "him", you sure as hell don't have anything that would interest "me"," said Danielle, growing bored.

"What's the catch, lady? You two the law or something?" He backed slightly away from Danielle.

"No catch, "stud". I thought I explained it real simple." Danielle shook her head, bunched up her shoulders, and gestured with her hands out. "If it's too complicated for you, then you ain't the man you've been bragging about."

The man glared at John, who looked completely at ease.

"You ain't worth the game, lady," he said finally and walked away.

"It wasn't your game to play," Danielle said.

The man just kept walking. Before leaving the bar, he smiled at Bob and said, "Watch out for those two."

"Golly, Danielle," Bob squeaked, "that wasn't very nice. What if that big guy had decided to beat up John?"

"Never happen," she said confidently.

"How can you be so sure?"

"You don't know John," she said, getting off the bar stool and walking over to Martha.

"What's with you and Space John?" Martha asked.

"Nothing . . . why?"

"Oh, come on, stop the BS. I saw what happened."

"What do you think you saw?"

"Well, at first I thought you were testing John, you know, to see what he was made of."

"Yeah? And then?"

"Heather told me he caught a rattlesnake. That true?"

"He grabbed it when it struck."

"And he didn't get bitten?"

"Nope, he's way too fast."

"Ah," Martha said, "you wanted to see just how fast he was, so you figured that big, tough-looking guy would do?"

"I've seen you do the same thing with Dad more than once. Why should you have all the fun?"

*

Wanda came running into the bar a little later. "The fuckin goat is eating my dress!" she screamed, getting everyone's attention.

"Well, take it away from him," Jed said calmly.

"You take it away from him. I already tried." Wanda was out of breath. "He butted me out the door. Why do you guys do things like this?" She continued screaming, jumping up-and-down and pumping her arms. "That fuckin' goat has ruined my dress and you won't do anything about it!"

Everyone in the bar was laughing.

"Oh, it's always so funny when it doesn't come out of your pocket!" Wanda yelled at the Walnuts, who were standing together at the bar. "I spent a lot of money for that dress, and that goat is gonna pay!" Wanda screamed and ran out the door.

Everyone in the bar followed her.

Outside, Wanda was stomping straight for the motor home. She wrenched open the door and went inside. The laughter continued until Wanda came back to the open door with Jed's pistol. The crowd went silent, anticipation thick in the air.

"Jed, stop her, she's got your gun!" yelled Martha.

"What?" Jed exclaimed, just coming out from the bar.

Wanda headed to the back of the camper with the pistol in both hands pointed out in front of her.

"I'm gonna drill that son of a bitch right between the running lights!"

"What? You can't shoot him," said Jed. "He's Red's wedding gift! Just pull him out!"

"I can't!" blared Wanda. "He ate his rope. I told you not to leave him in the camper."

"What? You were supposed to be in there watching him."

"I fell asleep."

"You passed out?"

"I told you to tie him outside." Wanda had calmed down. The pistol, now in one hand, was pointed at the ground.

"Someone could have stolen him. He's a very expensive goat. We were just having a couple of beers."

"A couple beers?" she said. "There's no such thing with you guys. You were in there four hours, and he got hungry."

Wanda opened the camper door. Jed was standing behind her.

The goat came busting through the open door right at Wanda, causing her to jump back, knocking into Jed. She lost her balance and fell over backwards, the pistol barrel going for the sky. "Boom". The pistol discharged and the light over the camper door exploded into a shower of plastic and glass.

The goat panicked from the noise and ran right over Jed, flattening him against the ground. Wanda got up immediately and aimed the pistol with both hands at the terrified goat.

"You're dead, son of a bitch!"

The goat was bleating loudly, heading around the front of the Nut Mobile.

Everyone looked for cover as Wanda fired the pistol again.

There was another terrific "boom" followed by a loud "thump" when the bullet burst through the front tire of the Nut Mobile.

Wanda stood bewildered. The goat had stopped and was looking around confused. Everyone else was still ducking for cover.

Jed yelled at Wanda, "That goat cost a lot of money, damn it. If anything happens to him, I'm going to be pissed." Jed hadn't noticed the damage to the Nut Mobile yet.

Bob headed toward the goat, hoping to impress Danielle by capturing it. Instead, the panicked goat headed right for the camper, which was behind him. Terrified, Bob ran like hell in the opposite direction, leaving Danielle no choice but to laugh at him.

Jed tried to block the goat's path but was again knocked over.

It headed right for Wanda, who was standing in front of the camper door. She screamed, threw the pistol at the goat, and backed into the camper. The goat tried to go right in after her. She tried to pull the door shut, but the goat already had its head jammed in the door. It was bleating wildly. Jed ran up behind the goat and grabbed its tail and the camper door simultaneously. He was trying to pull the door open and push the goat into the camper, but Wanda was still trying to pull the door shut. The goat was stuck.

The crowd, back on their feet, pressed in toward the action, everyone laughing.

The goat started kicking wildly, catching Jed in the shin. Holding his leg, he hopped up-and-down, swearing.

The goat finally got loose from the door and turned away from the camper. Jed was bent over, rubbing his shin, and didn't see the goat. It ran at Jed and butted him in the rear, knocking him to the ground again.

Martha ran out of the crowd screaming, "You leave him alone, you son of a bitch!"

She threw a beer bottle at the goat, miraculously hitting it on the head. The goat charged at her, but Ricky stepped quickly between them. It turned sharply and ran into the camper. Ricky was right behind the goat and slammed the door shut. The crowd roared with laughter and applause.

"That goat cost a lot of money," said Jed, still rubbing his shin.

"Oh, shut up, you old fool!" yelled Martha. "It's back in the camper, so there's nothing to worry about now."

"Oh yeah?" said Wanda, hunched over. She was breathing hard and flushed red. "He's finished with my dress, so I have nothing more to worry about. But he's just getting started on your curtains."

"What?" shouted Jed, running toward the camper.

"Better get something to put all the goat poop in too," said Wanda.

"Goddamn that old fool," said Martha. "I knew that goat was going to be trouble. If it's ruined my camper, it's dead meat."

"Oh, no you don't," protested Wanda. "I get first crack at that miserable S.O.B."

"If you hadn't gotten so damn drunk," said Martha, "all this would have never happened!"

"If you two didn't stop at every fuckin' bar you see, this wouldn't have happened."

"Don't blame me. That old fool paid seventy-five bucks for that damn goat. And you know your Dad. He paid good money for it, so he isn't about to give it up, no matter how much trouble it causes."

"Why doesn't he ever think about things like that?" asked Ricky.

"Why did he buy a goat in the first place?" Danielle asked Martha.

"I asked Red what he wanted for a wedding gift, and he said a goat," she explained. "It's all your fault. You goddamn kids are never there when we need you."

"So you go and immediately buy a goat, put it in the camper, and roam off to get bombed. And it's our fault? Give me a break," Danielle said. "And Ricky stepped in front of you. Otherwise, that goat would be wearing your dress right now. He had a bead on you, so don't give us this crap about never being there for you—"

"What got into your sister?" Martha asked quickly, changing the subject. "I've never seen her act like that. You and Ricky have the tempers, not her."

"She loved that dress, Mother," said Danielle. "I've never seen her much interested in clothes before. And we spent most of the day picking it out."

*

"I am appalled at your family's behavior," said Bob, trying to sound comforting. "You should really think about getting away from this sort of thing, my love. It's not good for you."

"Me? What about you? I'll bet you haven't had this much excitement in your entire life. Lighten up, Bob. Because if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a boring man." Danielle headed toward her father, who was still nursing his shin.

"Oh, Bob, don't look so devastated," said John, putting his arm on Bob's shoulder. "She's right, you know. My advice to you, if you want that woman as bad as I think you do, you'd best degrade your social skills somewhat."

"Huh, what does that mean?"

"It means your ass is puckered too tight, Bob," Heather added as she watched Jed measure up the damage—one motor home tire, blown, one outdoor RV light, shot out, and some serious metal work necessary.

Chapter 12

"This is such a beautiful land; I wish we had the time to go back in there." John pointed, watching the mountains slip by in the distance. They were back in the Cadillac sailing down the highway.

"Wait until we get to Red's," Danielle said. "It's way back in mountains, and it's a beautiful place he's got."

For the next half-hour they traveled down a two-lane road that wound its way progressively deeper into the backcountry, gradually climbing into wilder and wilder terrain. They dropped down into a deep gorge, driving under a thick canopy of trees, the sun only shining through intermittently. Then they crossed an old steel bridge spanning a swiftly running river. The bridge was only wide enough for one vehicle at a time. Across the bridge, the road split—one branch went straight ahead to the other side of the canyon, the other turned sharply left, following the river. Danielle instructed Bob to take the river road.

"Tell me about Red," said John.

"Oh, gosh." Danielle turned in the front seat to face John. "Red must be in his late sixties by now. He's an old chum of my mother's. They went to high school together. He's an ex-boxer, a tough little guy. He adores Mother and is totally devoted to her."

"He's getting married at that age?" asked John.

"Yeah, to the Tomato, and wait until you see her. She says she's half Indian, but we think there's more in there than she admits to. She's got the biggest tits—"

"Danielle, my dear," said Bob, "I wish you wouldn't talk like that."

Danielle gave Bob a solemn look.

"Big tits, you say? Sounds interesting, really informative," said John.

"Anyway, she's younger than Red by at least twenty years," Danielle continued. "His first wife, Ruth—she was a dear, sweet lady—died of cancer a few years ago, and Red was devastated. It took him a long time to get over it, and he lived out at the ranch for a couple of years. My mother would get fed up with all his moping around. Then one day he went into town and came back with the Tomato, whose real name is Beverly. Mother and the Tomato didn't hit it off too well. Anyway, Red changed back into his good-natured, scrappy self and moved back up here. We haven't heard too much from him until the wedding invitation came, and 'voilá,' here we are."

When they came around a bend in the road, corresponding to a bend in the river, Danielle cried out, "There it is!"

Red's big log cabin was in a small clearing in the bottom land, a hundred feet back from the river. There was a large barn and a corral a hundred feet behind the house. The rest of the bottom land was studded with big trees. Tall bluffs defined the canyon on both sides, the tops of the bluffs also heavily wooded.

A short, stocky, scrappy-looking man with bright red hair was standing outside the cabin.

"There's Red!" said Danielle. "I guess we're the first to arrive. I don't see the motor home or camper."

"They must have stopped at another bar," stated Bob.

"You think?" she said snottily.

Danielle opened the passenger door before the car even stopped completely and rushed out to greet Red.

"Red, you old dog, it's great to see you again!" Danielle said, embracing Red in an affectionate hug. "Geez, I was just a kid the last time I was up here, and it's even more beautiful than I remember."

"Well, thank you, sweetie, you're the one that always appreciated it the most. I still remember our nature walks, and still think of you when I go hiking. Where are the rest of the road warriors?"

"Red, where's your head?" she asked, tousling his hair. "It's well past three, where do you think?"

"Damn, my beer's cold too," he said, laughing. "But why am I complaining? I got the most beautiful of the Walnuts all to myself, for a while anyway, until the rest of the plague blows into my life. So how have you been, dear?"

"Good, Red, good. Life goes on, and on, and on, and on." Danielle laughed.

"I see you have multiple suitors, like always," he said, looking toward the car. Bob was looking uncomfortable, not sure what to do, and John had wandered off toward the river.

"That one guy can't take his eyes off you, and the other one looks like he's a nature boy."

"The nature boy, that's Space John. He's cool."

"The other," she said, lowering her voice, "is one of Father's projects . . . for a while."

"Who made the trip?" asked Red.

"Ah, Heather is with Mother and Father in the motor home. Ricky's with Wanda in the camper."

"Ricky?" he said, thinking over this latest twist. "He doesn't have any more hookers with him, does he?" Red looked concerned.

"Not yet, but who knows?" she said, laughing.

Red shook his head. "That damn kid," he said. "I let him stay up here for a while, and I can tell you it was one hell of a mistake."

"Red, he's no kid."

"Sure acts like one."

"Just what'd he do?" she asked. "I got bits and pieces through the rumor mill, and it did sound just like Ricky's MO."

"It's mostly a blur, but cultivating pot was the straw that broke the camel's back."

"Ricky, always the farmer."

"Farmer, phuu," spat Red. "He thinks you throw the seeds down, cover them up, and then roll the joint. That is one lazy human being, for sure."

"Where's Beverly?"

"In the cabin. She's out to make a real impression. She and Martha are going to get into it, I can sense that."

"Nah, don't worry. Mother is delighted that you're the old Red again. She was really worried about you. She'll be on her best behavior."

"Somebody will be her target," he guaranteed.

"Oh, no doubt."

"That Namby Pamby looking guy over at the car looks like a prime candidate. What's his story?"

"Wanda's house down there in Pine Top is in need of extensive work, and this guy is the county inspector."

"Ah," he said, shaking his head, "let me guess—he took a liking to you, and Jed is thinking this could save him a buck or two, huh?"

"Yeah, you know Dad. So now I've got this starry-eyed fool bird-dogging me."

"What the hell happened down there anyway? I stopped by last year. What a mess!"

"Dad gave Steve the money to get it built, and you know Steve."

"Christ, Jed would have been better off with Ricky."

"Yeah, at least then there wouldn't even be a house to waste more money on."

Red laughed and suddenly looked at the road. "And here comes the Nut Mobile now!"

They watched the motor home come up the road.

"I'm sure glad you all could make it, but I'm nervous," he said. "Having all the Walnuts in one place is bound to be trouble."

*

The Nut Mobile stopped and the door opened.

The first one out was a goat wearing diapers with a rope around its neck. Next out was Heather, with the other end of the rope in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. The goat seemed to be behaving itself at the moment, but Heather was ready if Billy, the goat, even looked like he was going back to his old ways.

"It's your wedding present," Danielle told Red.

"I was just kidding! . . . I never thought . . ." said Red, shocked.

"That, Red, is a gift from hell," she added. "Enjoy it."

"Red, Red, it's so good to see you," said Martha, stepping out next. "This place is as beautiful as I remember. Where's the bride?"

"The Tomato's still inside getting ready for our big day," he said proudly. "I've never seen her so excited. She's never spent so much time and effort on anything, except that silly horse of hers."

*

Everyone was standing and talking in the yard when the cabin door opened and Beverly the Tomato stepped out onto the shaded porch. It was fairly dark back in the shadows, and it was difficult to see her clearly.

"Here comes my lovely Tomato now," said Red, running up to the porch to escort her down.

Heather had tied the goat to the railing at the bottom of the steps.

The Tomato walked out into the sunlight and stole the day. All eyes turned her way and stayed right there. She was outfitted in a skintight, brass-colored leotard that sharply defined every curve, crease, and her huge breasts. She had long, flowing black hair, gold mascara, and the brightest red lipstick possible.

The Walnuts stood dumbstruck. The sight of the woman left them speechless, all except Heather, who was standing next to Jed. She leaned up to his ear and said quietly, "If she farts, she's going to blow her eardrums."

The silence was broken by a loud, strangled laugh from Jed. He looked around quickly and saw Martha giving him the dreaded Walnut Glare. He stifled the laugh and elbowed Heather in the side, but it was apparent from the look on his scarlet face that the slightest thing could set him off uncontrollably.

The Tomato gave no indication that her grand entrance had been marred and continued down the steps. At the bottom she looked over at the goat, realizing for the first time that it was there. She crinkled up her nose and took two steps toward Billy, who didn't retreat. It looked like he was also stunned by the sight.

"What's this?" the Tomato demanded in a deep, rolling voice.

"This is Jed and Martha's wedding present, my dear."

The Tomato took one more step, hauled her arm back, and punched Billy right between the eyes, knocking him down to his front knees.

"That's so he knows who's boss!" announced the Tomato as Billy shook his head, probably trying to clear his vision. No one had gauged the strength of the Tomato, having been caught off guard by her outfit.

"That had to hurt," Heather said rather loudly.

Jed elbowed her again.

*

The inside of the cabin was thoroughly modernized. John was roaming around, taking everything in.

"You're always snooping, Space Boy," said Martha.

"Why do you always refer to him as 'Space This and That'?" asked the Tomato, sitting at the kitchen table with Jed, Martha, and Red, shucking corn for dinner.

"Heather thinks he's an alien," said Danielle, who was sitting over on the sofa trying to keep Bob the octopus at bay.

"It's because he's misguided," said Bob.

"He's misguided?" asked Heather, sitting on the floor watching TV. "You're the fool. You think discussing bobbles and bangles with my mother will keep her attention."

"Heather, don't be so insulting," said Danielle.

"Yeah, Heather," said Martha, "keep your opinion to yourself. If a fool wants to blow all his hard-earned money, that's his business."

"I earn it honestly, and I decide where it is best spent," Bob announced, looking lovingly at Danielle. She giggled and snuggled up to him. Heather rolled her eyes and went back to the television.

"So, John, where are you from?" asked the Tomato.

Danielle had heard the question thrown at John and was listening intently for the answer.

John was trying to figure out how to dodge the question when he saw a vehicle's lights coming up to the cabin. "Someone is here," he said.

Heather jumped up and ran to the window. "Hide your women and your wallets," she said. "Uncle Ricky has arrived."

"Red, you didn't tell me Ricky the Rat would be coming," said the Tomato.

"I didn't know until today," he said, looking at Martha.

"You know Ricky," Martha said, shrugging, "he invites himself. Jed, you go out and tell him before he sets foot in here that there are to be none of his shenanigans."

Jed slowly got to his feet and headed to the door. He was just at the door when it opened and Ricky stepped in.

"You don't know how to knock?" Jed said angrily.

"I'm here, so why waste the time," Ricky said as Wanda came in behind him.

"Wanda, so good to see you," said Red, heading toward her. "Another of the beautiful Walnut girls graces my home." He gave her a hug, and then turned to Ricky. "I hope we can get along a little better this time."

"It's up to you," Ricky said. "The last time I was here I—"

"Ricky!" shouted Martha. "Can your bullshit, you hear me?" She had that 'don't-mess-with-me' look. Ricky knew the look and didn't respond.

"I don't know how glad you're going to be that we made it," Wanda said, gesturing to Ricky.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jed asked warily.

"Oh, Ricky stopped off and picked up a couple of old friends," she said, looking at Danielle and shaking her head.

Danielle picked up on the subtlety and looked back at Wanda, wondering who from their past was going to invade Red's happy event.

*

"Where the hell did he find that idiot?" shouted Jed, standing next to the camper. "Christ, that Ron guy is nuttier than a fruit cake. That goddamn Ricky, what the hell is wrong with him? Where is that S.O.B. by the way?"

"He said he was going to get some sleep in the motor home," said Heather.

"He brought crazy Ron. Where the hell did he find him?" Danielle asked.

"I can't believe that guy is still running free," said Jed.

"Another one of your conquests, I might add," Martha said to Danielle.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I'm not the one that made him nuts. He came with that abnormality. It was that ugly broad Suzan that did him in."

"Man, she was an ugly one, that's for sure," confirmed Martha.

"What exactly was the story?" asked John.

"Ron was hopelessly in love with some young girl," Danielle explained, "and Suzan convinced the girl that Ron was a disgusting pervert. The girl took off, and it broke his heart. He was convinced that the only fair thing to do was kill Suzan. I'm sure he's gotten over it by now. This was years ago."

"No, he is not over it," said Wanda. "He went into this tirade when Ricky asked him if he had ever seen the girl again. He still wants to kill Suzan."

"Does he know where Suzan is?" asked Danielle.

"No, that's why, according to him, he hasn't killed her yet," said Wanda, laughing.

"Whooo boy! Who's going to keep an eye on this one?" asked Martha. "If anything goes wrong with Red's wedding, somebody's going to pay."

"Maybe we need to call the sheriff," said Bob.

"What for?" asked Heather. "You haven't done anything really stupid . . . yet!"

Danielle laughed.

"Where is crazy Ron now?" asked Jed.

"Sleeping it off in the camper," said Wanda.

"Sleeping what off?" he asked.

"He drank all the way up here."

"Lock the goddamn door."

"What if he has to go?"

"Then you clean it up!"

"Me? It's not my fault!"

"You brought him here!" shouted Martha.

"I did not. Ricky's the one that—"

"I don't care, you should have stopped him," said Jed.

"Right, stop Ricky," said Wanda, throwing her hands up and walking away.

Danielle followed her.

"Okay," said Danielle, "you said Ricky stopped and picked up two people. Care to comment on the second one?"

"Not at this time," Wanda said. "I need to get out of here for a while. Let's skip into town."

"How? We don't have anything to drive."

*

Wanda and Danielle talked Red into letting them take his old Oldsmobile, The Boat. A dejected Bob sat on the back bumper of his car and watched them leave. He had insisted on going, but Danielle said this was "sister time", and was firm about it.

An hour later the sisters were hopelessly lost.

"What do we do now?" asked Danielle. "We are seriously screwed."

"Hell, I don't know," said Wanda. "Look in the glove compartment, maybe there's a map."

"What good is that going to do? We don't know where the hell we are in the first place," Danielle said, opening the glove box. "Hey, there is a map in here."

"What's that?" Wanda asked quickly.

"What?"

"Something fell on the floor."

"Where?"

"Down by your feet."

Danielle felt around by her feet. "Well, looky here," she said, holding up a bag of pot. "Red's stash."

"Oh, Red, you old dog," said Wanda, giggling. "What's it doing in The Boat?"

"The Tomato probably doesn't like him smoking, so he hides it here."

"Could be. Boy, she's not afraid of a few beers, though. She's putting down more than Mom."

"Mother is staying below the magic number five, did you notice?" Danielle laughed.

"Yeah, she's determined that nothing is going to happen at the wedding."

"And what are the chances of that?"

"Slim and none, slim and none," said Wanda, laughing back.

"I hope the Tomato can hold her booze. I'd hate to see things getting screwed up and her getting mad. I'm sure Billy the goat is hoping the same."

"Huh?"

"Oh, you missed it."

Danielle told Wanda the story.

"It wouldn't break my heart if they made a stew out of him," said Wanda.

"How are we going to smoke this?" Danielle asked, opening the bag and taking a sniff. "Oh my God!"

"What, ditch weed?"

"No," Danielle said, handing her sister the bag, "I'd say Humboldt!"

"Oh-my-God!" Wanda said after smelling the bag. "How are we going to do this? I don't have any papers or a pipe."

"I don't have anything either."

The two sat in silence, thinking carefully.

"Wait," said Danielle, "I've got a Tampax."

"How's that going to work?"

"I'll make it work!" she declared, reaching into her purse.

*

The Boat was full of smoke as Wanda puffed away and Danielle sat in silence.

"My God, it does work. I'll have to remember this," said Wanda.

"Yeah, I'm just glad I didn't throw it away after I used it."

Wanda choked violently, the smoke blasting out of her nose and mouth. She slammed on the brakes and The Boat's tires screeched on the pavement.

Danielle braced herself to avoid hitting the dashboard. "I was just kidding!" she said and started laughing.

"You ass!" yelled Wanda. She tried to be serious but looked at Danielle and started laughing with her.

"You would have done anything to get to Red's Humboldt, so don't look so shocked."

"This is a true story," Wanda agreed, a big stupid grin on her face. "God are we lost!"

"This pot is going to clear our thoughts," said Danielle, sticking a finger in the air like she was checking the wind, "and we will find that light at the end of the tunnel!"

"God are we fucked!"

The two sat in The Boat, still stopped in the road, laughing hysterically.

"Maybe Bigfoot will find us and save the day? I hear he's been seen around here regularly," said Danielle, looking out the window.

"Oooh, big feet means a big you-know-what!"

"Oh, but all that hair. Yuck!"

"Hey, as stoned as we are," said Wanda, "I don't think—" She leaned forward to see through the smoke. "Hey, here comes a pickup."

"Oooh, and look, cowboys," added Danielle, giggling.

*

It was getting light back in the glen at Red's place as The Boat rumbled down the road, followed by two pickups.

"That's far enough boys," Danielle yelled back, half hanging out the window of the big car. "Thanks for seeing us home safely. We promise we'll be there later tonight. Now go on home like good cowboys."

"I hope they don't remember how to get back here," said Wanda.

"Yeah, that's a couple truckloads of simple minds."

"Yeah, they sure didn't have anything on Bigfoot."

Both sisters started laughing.

"I'm tired to the max," said Wanda. "When does the wedding start?"

"At sunset."

"Oh, good, because I am going to sleep all day."

In the morning light, John saw the girls drive up. He was down at the river watching the water flow by, truly happy with the spectacular scenery.

Wanda spotted him and slowed the big car. "Hey, there's Space John."

"Where?" asked Danielle.

"Down by the river," she said, pointing.

"Stop! Let's find out if anything happened while we were gone." She leaned over her sister to shout out the driver's window. "John!"

John climbed the bank.

"What's going on?" Danielle asked as he came to the car.

"Not much. Beautiful morning."

"Anything happen last night?"

"A few things. Everyone is mad at you two."

"What else is new?" sighed Wanda. "What happened?"

"Oh, Uncle Ricky had some mushrooms to eat, and I don't understand why, but a couple of the wedding guests seemed to have disappeared." John shrugged.

"Ricky's got mushrooms?" exclaimed Danielle.

"Yes, but why has a simple food have everyone so concerned?"

"Oh, John, they're magic mushrooms," she said, laughing.

"Huh?"

"He doesn't know about magic mushrooms?" asked Wanda.

"He doesn't know shit from Shinola, or so he claims. But I don't trust him," said Danielle. "Oh, boy, this wedding doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell with mushrooms circulating. Oh God, I'll bet Mother is just livid!"

"Yes, she is quite concerned," John affirmed, "but Red is trying to calm her down."

"Why's she pissed at us?" asked Danielle.

"She thinks you two are ducking out."

"Hey, we're back, aren't we?" said Wanda.

"If we had any sense, we'd turn around and get the hell out of here," said Danielle. "Who's missing?"

"That guy Ron and the other woman Ricky brought."

Danielle looked at Wanda. "You didn't tell me about Ricky's other guest yet. How come?" she asked.

"It's Rejecta," Wanda said, gritting her teeth.

"Holy fuck, Wanda!" Danielle shouted. "You can't be serious! . . . "He" can't be serious." She sat quietly a moment, and then calmly said, "The Walnuts loathe that woman."

"There's a tow truck coming up behind us. They must be lost," said Wanda.

"No," said John, "they are here to get Bob's car."

"His car? What happened?" asked Danielle.

"I'm not sure. He drank a malted milk Ricky made and said it tasted like old socks. Then he got really strange. He tried to leave but went the wrong way and drove his car into the river."

"Where's he now?" asked Danielle, snickering.

"In the barn, crying. I cannot figure out what happened." John shrugged.

"The mushrooms happened, you twit," Danielle stated, shaking her head.

"I do not understand."

"John, the magic mushrooms?" said Danielle. "They're psychedelic."

John said nothing but looked to be in deep thought. "Psychedelic . . . that means . . ." He thought a bit more, then smiled. "Ooooh, that makes a lot of sense."

"You didn't try any, did you?" asked Danielle.

"No," he said quickly. "I have learned my lesson. I do not consume anything I am not sure of."

"What about Rejecta, the lady Ricky brought?"

John pointed to the woods behind Red's compound.

"Did she eat any of the mushrooms?" asked Danielle.

"Now that you have explained the magic mushrooms to me," he said, nodding his head affirmatively, "I would say "yes". She was outside last night dancing around and talking to something in the sky. Then she started howling at the moon."

"She definitely has partaken," said Wanda.

*

Wanda and Danielle entered the cabin quietly, hoping to avoid the coming storm, but Martha was sitting by the door waiting for them.

"Well?" was all she said, but her tone made it clear she was very mad.

"Well, what?" asked Danielle.

"I saw you two talking to John. I guess you know what has transpired?" She was keeping her volume down, which could be a dangerous sign.

"Yeah, we heard, but it wasn't our fault," Wanda said.

"I don't even want to know what you two were up to last night." Martha was on a slow burn. "But you two are going to do your best to keep a lid on this for Red's sake."

"Mother, what do you expect us to do?" Danielle asked. "Where is everyone?"

Martha got up and walked to the window, her back to her daughters. "They're out at the barn getting the bonfire ready." She turned to Danielle. "You go find that damn Ron, and you"—she turned to Wanda, her voice getting louder with every word—"get with Ricky and you tell him I will, and I mean I "will", roast his gonads over that big fire out back if he gives anyone"—her face had turned scarlet—"anything else to smoke!"

"Mother," Danielle tried to explain, "Ricky didn't give anyone anything to smoke, he—"

"Don't you try to defend that S.O.B. You do as I say, or else."

"How am I going to find Ron?" she asked. "John said he wandered out into the woods."

"It shouldn't be hard," snarled Martha. "You just follow the sound of some idiot pounding on trees with a big stick, shouting, 'Fuckin Suzan, fuckin Suzan!'"

Danielle almost started to laugh, but the look in her mother's eyes said it might not be the best time.

"Where's Ricky?" Wanda sighed.

"Out with the others. What has he got against Red?"

"When he lived up here, he was growing pot somewhere and selling it in town," Danielle explained. "Red found his plot and pulled it all up. You know how Ricky gets if anyone messes with his pot, or profits."

*

Wanda went out toward the barn. Jed and Heather were between the house and the barn stacking wood onto a huge pile.

"Hi, Dad."

"So, you're back." He spoke calmly but seemed to be on a slow burn as well. "Did you enjoy yourselves?"

"Mom said I should talk to Ricky. Where is he?" she asked. "Oh, and the tow truck is here."

"Heather, go get that idiot, Bob, and tell him they're here for his car," Jed instructed, then turned to Wanda. "Ricky's somewhere out back helping out with the horse."

"Ricky is helping?" said Wanda, trying lighten up the mood.

"Don't get smart," Jed growled.

Wanda hurried off and went toward the barn.

*

Heather was already there talking into one of the stalls. "Look, buddy, forget my mother. It doesn't matter if you did buy her nice things, all the men do. Just cut your losses, get in your car, and make your escape. This is no place for a solid guy like you."

She saw Wanda coming and made a vomit face, pretending to stick a finger in her throat.

Bob struggled out of the stall with hay hanging off his head. He had a big spot of horse manure on both his knees. His eyes were red and his face was smeared with dirt. The front of his shirt was stained with what appeared to be barf.

Heather shook her head and took unsteady Bob by the elbow, determined to help him leave.

*

Ricky stood in a corral outside the far door looping strands of flowers around a tall, handsome horse. He saw Wanda approaching. "Made it back for the wedding," he said, letting the horse lick his right hand.

"Yeah, I hear you've managed to stir up a little trouble."

"I'm not responsible for other people's actions," he said.

"Ricky, Red is a sweet guy. Why would you do something to hurt him?"

"He cost me a lot of money."

"He might have prevented you getting busted and going to jail."

"Not a chance."

"Ricky, I'm not going to argue with you. Red's a good man and has been a friend of Mother's since long before you were around. You've had your fun, now knock it off."

Ricky just smiled.

"I see," said Wanda. ". . . I ask you to do this one little thing and you can't comply." She looked squarely at Ricky. "So, tell you what, I'm going to go find Rejecta and tell her that you want her back."

Ricky's face went pale. "That's not funny."

"I'm not being funny, Ricky, I'm serious. You promise to lay off. Otherwise, I go to Rejecta."

Danielle walked out from the barn. "I'll be right with her," she said.

"That's shitty, both of you," said Ricky. "I don't know what I did to you guys, but—"

Wanda interrupted. "You are trying to screw up Red's wedding. Besides, we're doing you a favor."

"What are you talking about?"

Wanda put her hands on her hips and looked at Ricky seriously. "Mother a.k.a. Attila the Hunnette adores Red. She said, and I quote, 'I will roast his gonads on the big fire out back,' et cetera, et cetera. She was serious, Ricky. If she comes after you, Dad will be right behind her. And you remember what happened last time you went too far."

Ricky gulped.

"So, it mellows out?" Danielle questioned.

Ricky didn't say anything. He just dropped the string of flowers he had in his hand and walked off.

"I wonder what he was planning?" asked Wanda.

"Don't know. But did you see the look on his face?"

"Oh yeah, we got his attention. What do you think got through, the threat of Mom or Rejecta?"

"He's scared of them both, but I think Rejecta has the psychological edge," said Danielle.

"Why did he bring her here, then?"

"Who else, besides Rejecta, could cause the most problems?"

"Not too smart," said Wanda. "He gets her attention, and she gets a hold of a car, and he'll be running for his life. She's already twisted on mushrooms."

"It would serve him right, but we probably can't count on her."

"I rode with her for a couple hours coming up here, Danielle. She's battier than ever."

"What's with the horse?" asked Danielle, pointing to the animal.

"Oh, that's Bucket. She's giving away the bride."

*

"Hey, John, mind if I join you?" Heather asked, standing up on the riverbank.

John was lying on his back against the bank, looking up in the sky.

"Not at all, come on down."

"What are you doing?" she asked, sliding down the bank.

"It is beautiful out here. I am just enjoying it."

"Hey, there's a fish," Heather said, pointing to the water near a fallen tree.

"There are plenty of them in this area."

"I'll bet Red's got some poles, want to do some fishing?" she asked.

"No, I am satisfied to just watch them."

"Oh, come on, it'd be fun."

"Not for the fish."

"Oh, they're just fish, they don't care."

"Yes, they do."

"Oh, you know how a fish feels?"

"Not personally, but they are living things, and I can imagine they would rather not have a sharp metal hook jammed through their lip."

"Ugh, I can see your point."

John leaned over and looked at her. "Why are you with your family all the time?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I have not seen you with any kids your age."

"I got grounded for two weeks," she confessed.

"How did that happen?"

"I snuck out to see my boyfriend."

"You got busted, huh?"

"Yeah, but it's not fair."

"Why do you say that?"

"You've been with the Walnuts for what—four days, right?"

"It seems much longer," he said, chuckling.

"I mean, I get grounded because I go out once. I didn't do anything bad. But these clowns"—she flung her hand back toward the cabin—"are totally out of control and they get away with it. I mean, if me and my friends acted like the Walnuts, ah . . . I can't even imagine."

"Are you mad because you are being punished?"

"Yeah, I don't think it's fair. Why do adults get to act like children and it's okay? I want to act like an adult and I get busted."

"They are trying to protect you," said John.

"Really? "Great job" they're doing. You know we children are very impressionable, right?"

"Yes, there is lot you need to learn."

"Now, if you are a responsible adult person, you would never place an impressionable adolescent in situations that were not suitable, right?"

"I think I see where you are going with this."

"Well, do I have a point or not?"

"Yes, you certainly do. But my agreeing will not get you anywhere. You are still going to be grounded no matter what I say."

"I'm not trying to get out of it. It's only two weeks, officially, and by the time we get back, they'll be so worn out they won't even notice me and I'll be back in action."

"So, I take it you do not want to be a Walnut?"

"No, not really. They embarrass the hell out of me."

"How so?"

"My girlfriends think they're all nut cases, and all my guy friends want my mother. Don't get me wrong. I love my mother and I know that she loves me and is doing what she thinks is best. But she can be so irresponsible sometimes."

"How do you mean?"

"Like with men, she's a terrible flirt. I hate all the makeup and the way she dresses. She's such a beautiful woman; I don't see why she has to do that?"

"Yes, she is stunning," he agreed.

"My mother could put on a flour sack, and the men would still come crawling."

"Maybe it is the men you do not like?"

"I know I don't like "them"! They're so phony. They play nicey nice at first, but then, gradually, you get to see the real man. My mother attracts nothing but little boys in men's clothing, and there are always scads of them after her."

"You get angry because your mother is with so many different men?"

"She's not "with" them, not in that sense. My mother is totally monogamous. She doesn't sleep around, but some of her girlfriends are really slutty and it makes her look bad by association."

"I can see your concern."

"No, you can't. You haven't met any of her friends yet."

"I met Gigi," John corrected her.

"Oh, that's right, but you just saw Gigi getting busted for being stupid, nothing unusual for her. You haven't seen her when she's out and about, being the "Gigi". And Kris, wait till you meet Kris. Oh, I hope you don't meet Kris. She is so disgusting."

"In what manner?"

"Well, John, if you ever need to get laid, just have my mother introduce you. Kris has only two requirements—one, that you're a man, and two, that you're present."

"Are you not being a little cruel?"

"I'm not kidding, she is that bad. Even my mother will tell you that, but Mother still hangs around with her. She thinks it's funny."

"What do you think?"

"You sound like our counselor. She says that my mother and I have reversed roles. I'm the grown up and she's the teenager."

"It does look like that sometimes."

"See, everybody that knows us agrees, and I'm the one that's grounded. Go figure, huh?"

"What is important is that you can be what you want. If the Walnuts are not what you want to be, so be it."

"You think I'm being silly, worrying about my mother and all? What do you honestly think of the Walnuts so far?"

"Living so close to the edge, it is much easier to fall."

"That's what I try to tell her, but she just won't listen."

"I have only been around a few days, but it seems to me your mother is standing back from the edge."

"You think so?"

"I think so. She grew up with this, but it does not suit her entirely."

"Yeah, I think you're right."

"You two should try to get along better."

"We do. We're just mad at each other right now, but it'll blow over. We have a lot of fun sometimes, because she's smart and really funny if you're in the mood."

"I imagine there are few dull moments."

Heather nodded, and then sat quietly.

After a moment she looked at John. "I saw you looking up, staring into the sky. You miss home?"

"What makes you say something silly like that?"

"I'm not being silly, John. Camper and you are associates, and I know Camper is not from here."

"What makes you think that?"

"We've known Camper for a couple of years, and believe me, I know."

"Everyone has their little oddities; things that might make them seem different or not from around here, as the thought might go."

Heather looked at him with the cute smugness of a pretty teenager. "Bob, Babad Bob, got a little pissed at me one day, and Camper stepped in. I think you heard about this already? That guy is really fast, unearthly fast. Fast enough to snatch a rattlesnake, I'll bet."

"Oh, and what does he say about your speculations?"

"Camper respects my opinions. Are you going to try to convince me I'm full of crap?"

"I certainly am not."

"So, John, of not around here, what other talents do you have?" Heather sat forward with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.

"Not much. I am a rather boring person."

"Nothing? An alien tells me he's got no talents, nothing that would impress me," she said with a sigh.

Suddenly a horrific noise roared from across the river.

"What the hell was that?" shrieked Heather, jumping to her feet.

John didn't move from his relaxed position. "Sounds like a bear or something," he said.

The roar filled the air again.

"Let's get the hell out of here!" Heather panicked and grabbed John's hand, trying to get him to his feet.

"What is wrong?" he asked, slowly rising.

"It's a friggin' bear, you idiot, those things are dangerous!"

"It is not a bear," he said, laughing. "It is just one of my talents you were looking for."

"What are you talking about? I heard a bear."

"I am good at projecting sounds."

John focused his eyes on the distance. Suddenly a dog barked furiously, then a crow called, and finally a beautiful male voice started singing "Pretty Woman." It all came streaming from the woods across the river.

"You're doing that?" exclaimed Heather. "Wow, cool!"

"I did not want to disappoint you."

"Thank you, John," she said, hugging him. "I'll see you at the wedding."

"Okay," he said as she ran up the riverbank.

*

The wedding hour was getting close. Bob was gone. He had gotten his car back dented and muddy, and declared that this had been the worst experience of his life and drove off. Ron had stumbled back to the cabin, tired from killing Suzans all day. Nobody had managed to find Rejecta, and nobody seemed concerned. The Walnuts weren't especially eager to deal with her.

The only negative incident of the day so far occurred when Red, overenthusiastic about increasing the size of the bonfire, chopped a nasty gash in the side of his foot with his ax. They had a powwow to discuss the possibility of going to the hospital, but it was resolved with a quart of Red's best Scotch. Jed, the doctor of the house, prescribed half the bottle to sterilize the wound and half the bottle to sterilize Red. Heather did the bandaging, she being the only one capable of anything dexterous at the time.

The bride disappeared into her bedroom at noon and wouldn't allow anyone in, except her sister, a mysterious woman who arrived in a hooded cape. She entered the house carrying a large bag over a shoulder. She didn't say a word to anyone and headed straight to the bride's bedroom and was gone, just like the wind.

There was some speculation about what she looked like, but no one had gotten even a glimpse so the consensus was to wait and see.

Only once was there any movement from the bride's chamber—a call for more beer from the Tomato herself. Even that, however, was done in secrecy. The Tomato called for Red, who came to the door, received his instructions through the slight opening, and then brought two twelve-packs, slipping them through and then retreating.

The minister arrived as the sun was dropping to the horizon. The Reverend Philestrong was to preside over the wedding. He was a short, fat man, and his only outstanding feature was his enormous, bulbous nose, which everyone noticed immediately.

When the sun touched the tops of the trees to the West, the wedding party began to take its place under the instruction of the Tomato's sister, who had burst out of the house shortly before, still wearing her cape. With a deep, commanding voice she had taken charge, bullying the two volunteer ushers.

The wedding would take place just beyond the back porch under a giant, leafy tree.

Jed was Red's best man and was all decked out in a suit, something he rarely got into. It was decided that, although tacky, it made sense to give the injured, overmedicated Red one crutch to help him stay steady. He stood facing the Reverend. Jed stood at his side, watching for a topple.

Martha, Heather, Danielle, Wanda, John, and Ricky, who had been strangely quiet all day, stood off to the groom's side, there being no seating. The bride's side was empty.

Martha commented on Ricky's willingness to behave and assumed that her threat had been delivered. But Wanda and Danielle noticed Ricky looking off into the woods, waiting for something. They decided he was watching for Rejecta.

"He looks worried," said Danielle.

"He is," said Wanda. "Mother can catch him off guard to get at his gonads, but Rejecta likes to use a car."

The two started snickering.

Irritated, Ricky said, "I don't know what you two find so amusing."

"You look worried," said Wanda.

"I am, for good reason." He kept looking at the woods.

"Ricky," said Danielle, "Rejecta is probably halfway to town by now."

"Or the bears got her, so you're clear," added Wanda.

"She's got the mushrooms," Ricky said under his breath.

"Uh oh." Danielle laughed. "I hope for your sake it's the bears."

"What happened to Red's kids, Mother? They didn't come," said Danielle.

"Do you believe it? They don't like the Tomato and refused," said Martha.

"That's really terrible! I would never figure them for being that mean," said Danielle.

"They're all in a snit because Red's estate is going in somebody else's pocket," said Martha.

*

There was speculation about the three musicians who had arrived a half-hour earlier and were assembling their equipment on the porch. One had an old, battered guitar with holes in it. Another held a violin that looked equally bad. The drum set didn't look any better, and to top it off, the musicians themselves were also old and battered.

Danielle said, "I've had two hours of sleep since yesterday, and if they play as bad as they look, my nervous system will short out, I swear."

"I'm just curious to see what the bride is wearing," said Wanda. Everyone agreed, waiting eagerly for her entrance.

The bride's sister stuck her head out of the back door of the cabin, still wearing her hood. She looked to be a slimmer version of the Tomato, but no one had gotten a look at her face yet. She got the attention of the nearest usher. Some sort of signal passed between them, and the usher went over to the musicians. They took their final drinks from a paper sack and readied their instruments.

Wanda whispered to Danielle, "I hope you're wrong about the band. My nerves are no better off than yours."

The musicians made a few preemptory squawks and squeaks, stopped, gave a silent count, and proceeded to play the loveliest rendition of the wedding march that anyone had ever heard.

"My God," said Martha. "Goes to show, you never can tell."

Everyone was so enthralled by the music they didn't notice the bride coming around the side of the house on the horse. Jed finally saw the bride and indicated to the others that they should turn around.

Bucket was draped with strings of flowers and wore a beautifully embroidered sombrero with holes cut out for her ears. The sister walked beside the horse, holding the reins. She was wearing a long, flowing, cream-colored dress, obviously trying not to stand out. She looked strikingly similar to the Tomato, except that she was much younger and exceptionally beautiful.

The Tomato was dressed in blazing red, skintight jeans with sequins up the sides and a sparkly red blouse with short frills that did nothing to hide her enormous breasts. She wore shiny red cowboy boots and was topped off with a bright red cowboy hat. Her long black hair flowed out from under the hat, reaching halfway down her back. She wore bright pink mascara and the same flaming red lipstick from the day before. Again, the Walnuts were dumbstruck.

Martha glared at Heather, the warning clearly evident in her eyes.

The horse, the bride, and her sister walked up to the Reverend, who showed no surprise.

As the bride dismounted, Danielle whispered to Wanda, "Wow, look at her sister. She is something."

"Yeah, look at the old fool," Martha whispered, nodding to Jed. "He's scoping her out, trying to figure out if she's as well-endowed as the Tomato."

Ricky, too, had a cocky smile on his face.

Wanda whispered to Danielle, "Looks like Ricky has found a new interest."

"Yeah, this could be good. Rejecta might be close by with a bag of magic mushrooms, and Ricky is not paying attention. She catches him with this bimbo, and he's dead meat."

They giggled loud enough to attract the attention of Jed and Martha, who gave them a nasty glare.

As outlandishly as she was dressed, the bride moved sensuously. She glided toward the groom and took her place next to Red. The musicians dropped the tempo and faded the music away perfectly. The Reverend stepped up to start the ceremony just as the last of the sun slid below the trees on the bluff to the West. He droned on for a couple of minutes and then got to the vows.

"Red, do you take Beverly to be your lawful wedded wife?"

Red looked directly at his beautiful bride, opened his mouth, and said—"Baahhhaaaa!"

Red stood with his mouth open as Billy the goat came tearing around the corner of the barn, bleating loudly in terror. Everyone in the wedding party gasped.

"How the hell did that goat get loose?" asked Martha.

"Now, now, it's just a temporary setback," declared the Reverend.

The Tomato didn't react. She just continued to gaze at Red.

"As you were about to say, Red," continued the Reverend.

"Ah . . ." Red was watching the goat head off into the trees. "Yes, . . . what was I supposed to say?"

"I asked you if you took Beverly to be your lawful wedded wife?" The Reverend was quick and sharp.

"Oh yeah, I—"

The ceremony was again disturbed by Ron who came running through the wedding, still trying to off Suzan, who he had obviously mistaken for the goat. Everyone calmly watched Ron chase the goat into the trees, then returned their attention to the ceremony. The Tomato still stood her ground.

Wanda whispered to Ricky, "How long do those mushrooms last?"

He shrugged. "I don't know? I don't mess with that stuff."

"Just say 'I do'," commanded the Reverend.

"I do," said Red.

"Very good," he said, and then turned to the bride. "And Beverly, do you take—"

The Reverend hesitated as he noticed Bucket's tail begin to lift.

"Uh oh," said Danielle.

Red and the Tomato were facing away from the horse and didn't know what was happening. Bucket's tail was almost parallel to the ground.

"Get on with it," Jed said, leaning over to the Reverend, "you don't have all day."

"Just say "yes"!" the Reverend shouted at the Tomato.

She was scared by his tone and covered her mouth with her hands.

There was a loud groan from the horse's belly.

Heather, from the groom's side, jumped to her feet and yelled, "She does!"

And then Bucket let loose with a horrendous, gaseous sound.

"I pronounce you man and wife!" boomed the Reverend as the wedding party gasped, then held their breath.

"Aaaagh, you can kiss the bride if you want, but I'm not staying here," said the Reverend, quickly stepping away.

"Oh, Red," crooned the Tomato, her hands dropping from her mouth.

She wrapped her arms around Red and kissed him passionately as the music began to play.

"I need a beer," said Martha.

*

Jed and Red had changed into knock-around clothes and started the bonfire. It blazed up and was throwing flames and sparks twenty feet in the air.

The guests were on the back porch listening to the musicians play. They were taking requests and seemed to know about any song.

"I can't believe it went off as good as it did," said Martha, "except for that damn horse. I didn't think they did that."

"They don't, usually, unless somebody gives them something that upsets their stomach," said Wanda. She whispered to Danielle, who was standing behind her, "Now we know why Ricky was interested in Bucket."

"I was so sure something bad would happen. I'm so happy for Red," Martha added.

"I think we need to thank Heather for that," Danielle said.

"Yeah, quick thinking, Heather," said Wanda.

"I got excited," she said, blushing.

"Like the time we went to see the Rocky movie?"

Danielle starting to laugh.

"Mother!" Heather said quickly. "Stop right there!"

"Oh, come on, it was funny."

"Mother, stop embarrassing me."

"What happened?" asked Martha. "I've never heard this one."

"Rocky was getting the snot kicked out of him," said Danielle. "You remember the movie. He started getting the guy back, and the audience was getting into it. Heather got all excited and jumped up right in the middle of the theater and yelled at the top of her lungs, 'Kill that motherfucker!' The rest of the audience went dead quiet."

"Mother, I asked you not to," Heather snarled.

John laughed and gave Heather a thumbs up. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"It was cute," said Danielle.

"I was so embarrassed," Heather said. "There goes your phone again."

Danielle just let the phone ring in her purse.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" asked Martha.

"No," she said, annoyed, "it's just Ferkle."

"Why don't you get rid of that guy?" Martha scolded her.

"Oh, he's harmless. He's just a little persistent."

"Mother, he's a pain in the ass."

"Does he bother you, sweetie?" Martha asked Heather.

"No, I don't think he's really creepy or anything like that. He's just annoying at times. He'll do anything she asks, and she takes advantage of him. He's her slave."

"He is not. He's just a helpful guy," Danielle said.

"He's just another pimple on your ass," Jed said, joining them on the porch.

"Speaking of pimples," Heather said, pointing to the road, "guess who's back, Mother?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Doofus Bob just drove up."

"Oh God, I thought I got rid of him. I better go see what he wants."

"I'll bet he's bought her something expensive," said Martha.

"Why do you think she's going out there?" said Wanda.

*

The Tomato was dancing up a storm around the fire, twirling and high stepping. Red and Jed were watching close by.

"She's getting awful close to the fire," Martha said.

"Oh, don't worry, Dad's right there," said Wanda.

"Yeah, the old bastard's not likely to let those knockers get singed," said Martha.

Danielle and Bob were arguing inside.

"Hey, Danielle," Wanda yelled into the house, "Bigfoot is back! He wants you again."

"What are you talking about?" Martha asked.

"It's a joke, Mother," she said, suddenly jumping up. "Oh damn, the Tomato just fell in the fire!"

Jed had seen the Tomato start to lose her balance and reacted immediately. He pulled her back, but she was showered with sparks and screaming. He was patting her clothing as everyone ran toward her.

"My bride, my bride," Red cried while Jed continued to smack the Tomato's clothing. Her hair was smoldering and her blouse was smoking. Jed grabbed the blouse and partly tore it trying to get all the sparks out. The Tomato's giant breasts popped out.

Martha ran up to help him and brushed off the Tomato's jeans.

"You okay, dear?" she asked.

The Tomato cried while Jed checked her for burns, looking at her back, sides, and front—the monstrous tits were hanging out for everyone to see.

"My chi-chis!" cried the Tomato, grabbing her breasts. "Red won't want me if I'm damaged!"

"Okay, Jed!" Martha grabbed his shoulder. "You put the fire out, so you can quit feeling her up now. Where's that sister? I haven't seen her since the wedding."

"She was talking to Ricky the last time I saw her," said Heather.

"Well, she's of little use now," said Martha. "Heather, help me get Beverly up to the house."

*

The Reverend Philestrong was on the porch shaking his head.

"What's your problem?" Martha asked.

"This is what happens when sinful behavior is the order of the day," he answered.

"What are you preaching about?"

Martha gestured for Heather to take Beverly into the house.

"The consumption of alcohol, for one," he said.

With her hands on her hips, Martha looked the Reverend straight in the eyes. "Look, Rev, you didn't get that schnoz from drinking milk."

"I have seen the errors of my ways," he said quickly, then hesitated a moment. "There are fornicators here too."

"Rev, there are fornicators everywhere you look, always have been, always will be. If you're interested, the goat's in the barn, second stall on the right."

"That's what I'm talking about," said the Reverend, pointing back to the barn. "There are two persons sinning right there in the barn."

"Well, now we know where her sister and Ricky got to," said Danielle, walking up with Wanda.

"Where's your dreamboat, Danielle?" Martha asked.

"Oh, he's convinced that he shall never possess me and is off sulking somewhere."

"Yeah, well, you keep him away from the booze."

"I'm not his damn nursemaid. And besides, Mother, it wasn't drink that twisted his gourd."

"Well, what else could it have been?"

"Mother," said Wanda, "Ricky the Rat is present, and you didn't suspect anything?"

"I didn't think that stuff you're always smoking could cause a person to go off like that," said Martha

"It can't, but magic mushrooms can," said Wanda.

"What the hell have mushrooms got to do with all this?"

Danielle laughed. "Mother, they can really do some damage, especially if you're off to begin with."

"Magic, what the hell does that mean?" growled Martha.

"They're psychedelic, as in "mind-altering"," explained Danielle.

"That goddamn Ricky! You mean he's been giving crazy people drugs?"

"Mother, you can be so lame sometimes," said Danielle.

"That son of a bitch. Wait until I get my hands on him! To think he took a chance like that at Red's wedding!" Martha stormed off the porch.

"Oops," said Danielle as she and Wanda laughed. "Guess we spilled the beans on Ricky. Accidentally, of course."

*

"I can't believe she rejected me like that!" Bob cried.

"Bob, don't take it so serious. Some people aren't meant for each other," said Wanda.

They were down near the riverbank. Wanda had heard someone blubbering in the dark and had gone to investigate. She found Bob sitting by himself with a near-empty bottle of whiskey.

"But I want her so bad. Then 'I' can be a Walnut!" he cried, taking another pull from the bottle.

"Bob, it wasn't meant to be." Wanda was trying to get back to the party, but Bob had grabbed her sleeve.

"You seem to understand. I need somebody to help me be a Walnut!"

"Well, Bob, I 'do' understand."

"Do you? Do you really?"

He looked solemnly into Wanda's eyes, swaying slightly.

"Yes, Bob, I do."

"Oh, Wanda," he said, suddenly trying to hold her, "this is what I really wanted."

Wanda moved back. "Bob, you're drunk."

"Yes, but my true emotions are spilling out."

"Yeah, yeah, but you'll hate yourself in the morning."

"I can help you with the house," he said, swaying back-and-forth.

"Really? Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to talk a bit longer."

"Yes, I can do things. I have the power!" he shouted.

"It sure would be great if you could help us out of this mess."

"I can help," he said and pulled his sweat pants down below his knees. "We can be a team!"

"Now, Bob, don't you think we should—"

Bob started to sway even more, almost falling over forward. Wanda was preparing to catch him, but he managed to straighten up on his own.

"I have to have a Walnut!" he cried.

Just then a cloudy look came over his face. He went limp and fell over backwards.

*

"Bob decided any Walnut was better than none and hit on me," said Wanda, back in the cabin.

"What happened?" asked Danielle.

"He promised to help me with the house, pulled his pants down, and fell over backwards." Wanda laughed.

"He passed out?"

"Yeah, he's down by the river, out cold, his pecker blowing in the breeze."

"That ass," Danielle snarled, "all he brought me to make up was this cheap bracelet."

*

Headlights shone across the front of the house as someone drove up. Wanda and Danielle were watching and heard the passenger door creak open. They couldn't see because of the bright light in their eyes, but a woman's voice was screeching at the driver.

"Damn, that voice sounds familiar," Danielle said as Martha came out.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"I would say that there is a good chance that Rejecta has returned," said Danielle.

"Really?"

Martha headed right for the headlights as they backed up and moved off the house. Danielle and Wanda watched their mother walk up to the woman left standing in the dark.

The two conversed quietly for a moment. Then out of the dark the woman cried, "Oh, Ricky, I knew you'd come to your senses!"

It was confirmed to be Rejecta as she headed around to the back of the house.

"Damn, she came up with the same idea we did," snickered Wanda.

"I hate thieves," said Danielle, laughing.

Heather stood in the doorway. "I heard you guys threaten Uncle Ricky about telling Rejecta he wanted her back," she said, "and I told Grandma how scared he got. So it's still your idea."

*

Ricky's panicked yelling came from the barn area.

"Sounds like Ricky and Rejecta have continued their relationship," said Danielle.

"Yeah, it's nice to see people get back to where they left off," said Wanda.

"What does she see in him?" asked Heather.

"She's looney tunes, why would she need a reason?" commented Danielle.

"Nah! She's determined to get even," said Wanda.

Ricky's voice moved quickly away from the buildings as he hustled into the woods, the sound of breaking branches and crackling leaves marking his forward progress.

"I wonder where Rejecta is?" asked Danielle, just as the sound of a car starting penetrating the quiet night.

"Sounds like The Boat," said Wanda.

"It's going to be tough running him down now that he's in the woods," said Martha, walking up.

"Oh, he always escapes," said Jed, walking up with Red. "You know Ricky, he's got more lives than a damn cat."

The powerful motor of the big Oldsmobile disrupted the night, and Rejecta shouted out the window, "If I can't have you, nobody can!"

"Red, aren't you worried about your car?" asked Martha.

"Nah," he replied, "it's being put to good use."

"You're all sick, I hope you know that," said Heather.

Martha asked, "Who was taking pictures down by the river earlier?"

"I don't know," said Jed.

"Well, I kept seeing flashbulbs going off down there," Martha continued.

"You drank too much beer," Jed told her.

"I know that, but I'm positive I saw flashbulbs," she said again and went inside.

*

The next morning the odyssey was over, and the survivors were licking their wounds. The first sunlight started to filter through the leaves when Jed came out to the front porch. Red was walking back to the porch as a sheriff's car drove away.

"What did he want?" Jed asked.

"Merle said that my car was found halfway to town."

"That's all?"

"It was pretty scratched up. No real damage, though."

"No crazy woman?"

"Yeah, she wandered into town. Merle said she looked like she had a real tough time of it. He got her something to eat and a bus ticket, and I just gave him money for his troubles."

"No charges, huh?"

"Nah, Merle don't care if people smoke or eat things they might find in the woods. He figures if they're growing out there on their own, it's not up to him to mess with Mother Nature."

"I like those down-home attitudes," Jed said, nodding his head affirmatively. "Fix up The Boat and send me the bill."

"Ah, no need, Jed. I'm gonna leave it the way it is."

Red smiled.

"Why?" asked Jed.

"Fond memories." Red pondered. "Do you think she almost got him?"

"Hard to say. I wonder where he is."

From just inside the door, Heather said, "He crawled into the camper last night."

"You're heading to Carmen's?" Red asked Jed.

"Yup, another wedding."

"Oh, by the way," Red continued, "one of Merle's deputies stopped that Bob guy last night. The car was full of stinking mud, and that Ron guy was with him. Merle's got them, letting them sleep it off before he sends them on their way. I guess it's going to be tough getting Wanda's house fixed?"

"I don't think so," Jed said, handing a small stack of Polaroids to Red. They were pictures of Bob lying on his back, his pants down around his knees and a cheap bracelet wrapped around his penis. The first picture had an inscription printed in black ink: "For The House That Jack Built".

Chapter 13

Wanda, Danielle, and Heather were in the courtyard of a Spanish mission enjoying the shade of a huge, old oak tree. They were sitting on cool stones that formed a ring around the giant tree trunk. The stone and adobe courtyard was full of trees and beautiful flowers.

"Lovely spot," said Danielle.

"Yeah, Carmen sure knows how to throw a wedding," added Wanda.

"Well, she's certainly had enough experience."

Wanda sighed. "We've got just as much experience as her. How come we never get hitched in a place like this?"

"Because Carmen only goes for the rich guys."

"Yeah, she's such a cold-hearted bitch. Now, you and I, we're in it from the heart."

"More like soft heads," said Heather.

"Hush, snot!" said Danielle. "Someday soon you're going to have your chance to screw up royally."

"Am not. And I won't," she said. "I'm sure not going to make the same mistakes."

"Sweetie, you're a Walnut," said Wanda, "and you are destined for uncertainty and confusion. You don't stand a chance."

"Oh, thank you, favorite aunt of mine, but someone has to break the chain of looniness, and I'm taking full responsibility."

"Yeah, well, as you get older you begin to realize that being a little crazy can help," Danielle advised.

"Touché to that," said Wanda. "Look at inspector Bob, straight as an arrow. But a little pressure came his way and he unraveled."

"Yeah, right," Heather said. "Look what it's done for you two. And Bob did it to himself."

"Yes, but his first mistake was taking himself too serious. Now, a Walnut would never allow that." Wanda jabbed her finger in the air to emphasize the point. "A Walnut is always looking to duck responsibility so the pressure, and paying the price, is absorbed by others."

"Yeah, there you go, Heather," Danielle said. "Be thankful you possess the looney gene."

"It's impossible to talk to you two."

"Where's Grandma?" Danielle asked.

"Probably in some dark and dank corner nursing her roaring hangover," said Heather.

"Yeah, boy was she a bear on the trip down here," affirmed Danielle.

"Ha, I had to drive with Ricky," said Wanda, "and I got the cold shoulder for two hundred miles. He's really pissed at all of us."

"Big deal," said Danielle. "Sometimes it's refreshing not to have to listen to his constant scheming."

"I imagine he's a little on the beat-up side too," said Heather.

"Yeah, he's stiff, sore, and scratched," said Wanda. "Here comes Mr. Cunning now."

They watched Ricky, John, and two other men in tuxedos come their way. The ring boy, who was five years old, was also with them. Ricky and John were wrestling and punching with the little guy. He came up to their waists.

"Come on, you guys," objected Heather, "you're going to get him all wound up."

"Oh, come on," said Ricky, "we're just passing a little time."

"Yeah, well, when he shorts out, it's going to be your problem," said Heather. "I don't think Carmen is going to appreciate anything going wrong at her wedding. You already know she doesn't trust you one bit."

"Don't worry, everything will be just fine," said Ricky.

*

"Boy, it's sure nice to be in here," Martha said quietly, sitting back against the cool pew. She wore sunglasses even though it was quite dark in the stone chapel.

"You shouldn't drink so much beer, Grandma," said Heather, sitting next to her.

"You mind your manners . . . and I never drink too much beer," she said, giving Heather the look. "Who's the cute boy you were talking with?"

"He's a friend of cousin Jason's, from school," answered Heather.

"Carmen's Jason?"

"Yeah."

"You watch out for those older boys. Any friend of Jason's is bound to be trouble."

They were sitting in the second row, waiting while the rest of the guests were shown to their seats. Being the mother of the bride afforded Martha the luxury of being seated first. The wedding was in the chapel of the Spanish mission. It was originally built in the early seventeen hundreds and was a beautiful and serene place.

"Quite the contrast from Red's affair," said Martha.

"Good. I'm sure tired of all the craziness," said Heather.

"Well, at least Red did manage to get married. I was worried there for a while. At least this wedding has the appearance of normalcy."

"Yeah, Aunt Carmen would never stand for anything weird from anyone."

"No, she sure wouldn't."

"Now, don't go getting plowed at the reception."

"You hush your mouth," Martha said in a bitter whisper. "If somebody was to hear you, they might get the false impression that I drink too much."

Heather giggled. "Grandma, I think the sunglasses are a dead giveaway."

"Stop being such a smart-ass."

"Better than being a dumb-ass!"

Ricky was standing by the entrance, waiting to usher more people in.

"Look at Uncle Ricky," said Heather. "He doesn't look so good."

The two chuckled.

"I'm sure ushering is not sitting too well with him right now," said Martha.

"He begged Carmen to get out of it, but she wouldn't budge. He looks like he's trying to walk with a stick up his butt. Aunt Wanda had to put some makeup on him to hide some of the scratches."

"Big, old cars can do that to you," said Martha, laughing a little too loudly.

Heather nudged her. "Grandma," she scolded with a whisper.

The music started and everyone turned to the back of the chapel to watch the bride and groom's attendants make the walk down the aisle.

"Oh, look, your mother is just gorgeous," said Martha. "I've never seen such beautiful bridesmaid dresses before. Carmen must have spent a bundle."

"I thought the bride doesn't want to be outdone by her attendants?"

"Not usually," agreed Martha.

"Look at everyone," whispered Heather. "Mother is stealing the show."

The wedding guests were certainly giving Danielle undue attention, especially the men, as she glided down the aisle with John, who had been recruited to stand in for one of the groomsmen who had been unable to make it.

Unnoticed, Jed stepped out of the shadows at the front of the church to take his place, ready to escort Carmen, his eldest daughter, down the aisle.

The final pair of attendants stepped to their places at the altar, and the entire church turned to the back to watch for the bride.

Jed stood in the sunlight that streamed in through the open doors of the church. He was tall and handsome in his tuxedo, calmly waiting for the bride to appear.

"Oh no, something's wrong with Grandpa!" Heather said quite loudly, but the music drowned it out. She started to stand.

"What do you mean?" Martha said, rising up a bit, looking back at Jed.

Jed had brought his hands up to his chest. He was looking toward the vestibule, where the bride was to come out, with a stricken look on his face. Many of the guests saw this now, and a few started to rise, unsure if they should go to his aid.

When the bride walked out of the shadows and into the sunlight, there was a uniform gasp from the quests.

"Oh . . . my . . . God!" said Heather.

"What the hell is she thinking?" Martha muttered under her breath.

Jed still had not composed himself when Carmen walked up to him and took his arm, ready to walk down the aisle in the sheerest dress imaginable.

"I'm glad she's a blonde," said Heather, ducking her head. She looked over at the cute boy she was talking with earlier. He was staring at the bride with his mouth hanging open.

"What do you mean?" Martha asked.

"Grandma, dark pubic—"

"Never mind, I get it."

Jed looked stunned. His face was bright red as he walked beside Carmen, focusing straight ahead, aiming for the altar.

"Poor Grandpa," said Heather.

Down at the altar Danielle whispered to Wanda. "Oh my God! That explains the mystery of our fabulous dresses. We should have known."

"Only Carmen would do something this outlandish," said Wanda.

The sisters were the only ones not totally shocked by Carmen's dress, except for the groom, who simply had a hungry look on his face.

People were thunderstruck into silence as the bride moved past them. The entire church just gazed at the woman in the see-through dress. Carmen maintained a look of absolute satisfaction the entire time. When she and her father reached the Reverend, who didn't seem affected, one hundred and ten percent of the guests were totally focused on the ceremony.

"Well," Heather whispered to Martha. "I guess Carmen's got her never-to-forget moment."

Martha was seething. "Damn you kids," she said under her breath.

"It'll be over soon, Grandma. Don't worry, nothing can top this."

"Thank God, I can't take any more."

"We are gathered here today . . ." The Reverend started the ceremony and everyone relaxed, confident that the wedding was back on the right track.

Just a few of the guests, those way up front and on the aisles, witnessed the ring boy, who was standing next to John, start to fidget. John put his hand on top of the boy's head to settle him down. Instead, the little guy wound up and took a big swing connecting with John's crotch.

The loud 'Ooof' from John resonated through the church as he staggered, trying to keep upright, and grabbed himself.

There was a uniform 'Ooooh' from those who witnessed the punch. Everyone on the aisle seats tipped out to look and the rest half-stood to get a better view of John, who was gallantly trying to remain standing, but slowly sank to his knees with a flushed, pained look on his face. There was murmuring from all the wedding guests.

The groom bent down to John.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, not realizing what had happened. John, his face contorted with pain, grunted and nodded toward the ring boy, who was standing quietly, looking scared.

"Now, folks, we seem to have an interruption here," the Reverend said calmly. He had seen the punch and was coming to John's aid. The chapel went strangely quiet as John was helped to his feet and gradually regained his breath. Carmen stood uninterested, tapping one foot and waiting for the distraction to be remedied. The rest of the wedding party stood by while the Reverend and John conversed. John finally managed to straighten up and, with a deep breath, retook his position.

"Ai ya yi," Martha said, shaking her head while John tried to regain his composure.

"I warned those guys about winding that kid up," declared Heather.

*

"Carmen said this was going to be a wedding to remember, and she didn't disappoint anyone," said Danielle, watching the bride and groom head for their limo. Carmen walked into the setting sun, her voluptuous body outlined by the sunlight that streamed through her sheer dress.

"Damn, Carmen sure got everyone's attention," said Wanda.

"I don't think I've ever seen an entire crowd so mesmerized before," added Jed.

"I think it was disgusting," said Martha.

"Oh, Mother, you didn't expect something normal from Carmen, did you?" Danielle laughed.

"I wish you damn kids would stop embarrassing me every time there are a few people around."

"We learned from the master," said Danielle.

"I'm not sure I want to go to the reception," Martha fumed. "She'll probably show up wearing pasties."

"Oh, Mother, don't be silly," said Danielle. "Carmen's had her victory. She's not going to ruin it with another stunt."

"Everything is ruined already," huffed Heather.

"What's the matter with you?" Martha asked.

"That really cute guy, the friend of Jason's, probably thinks I'm a slut."

"Why are you talking foolishness? What Carmen did has no reflection on you," Danielle told her.

"Yes, it does! You didn't see the way he looked at Aunt Carmen."

"If he gives you the same look, just slap him," said Danielle, laughing.

"Oh, Mother, you are just so . . . so . . ."

Heather looked over her mother's shoulder out to the parking lot. "Oh no! Mother?" Heather shouted, pointing, "What is "she" doing here?"

Danielle turned around, surprised by Heather's outburst.

There, getting out of a cab was the infamous Kris.

"Kris!" shouted Danielle, heading toward her. "I forgot you said you might make it. Girl, did you miss something! You won't believe what my sister—"

Danielle's conversation had gotten out of range.

Now the Walnuts and the rest of the wedding guests got something else to ponder—Kris, a medium-tall woman with short, reddish-blond hair, a cute face, ample breasts, slim waist, round butt, and long, shapely legs. Her main attraction at the moment was the extraordinarily short skirt she was wearing.

"Oh God!" said Heather, disgusted. "If she starts to bend over there's going to be a stampede of men and boys to get behind her."

*

On the trip from the wedding to the reception, Wanda and John had stopped driving and gotten out of the car. They were sitting on the side of a steep hill overlooking the ocean.

"What do you think of this place?" Wanda asked John.

"It is quite a sight. I have always enjoyed oceans."

"That big monstrosity up there is where we're headed." Wanda pointed to a long, white, multilevel building that ran out on a rocky point jutting out into the ocean. "That old hotel," she continued, "has been there for well over a hundred years, and was recently fully restored to the way it was in the fifties."

The point started at approximately the same elevation as they were now sitting, about fifty feet up from the pounding surf. The road next to them ran toward the hotel, dipping slightly, and then continued up a hill to the inland side of the point. The entire point was twenty feet higher than the road. It gave the hotel a grand appearance, like a giant white ship heading out into the churning sea.

"So what do you think of the Walnuts?" asked Wanda.

"You do know how to enjoy yourselves."

"It's not all fun, you know, being one of them."

"What is the difficult part?"

"I don't know, it's kind of hard to explain." Wanda sat with her hands on her knees, contemplating. "Other people don't take me seriously, for one thing, and I've never had a solid relationship. It's annoying to realize that I'm a product of my parents, and the way they brought us up is probably the cause of our difficulties. Yet they're still together, but we kids can't manage the same thing. Do you know what I'm saying?" Wanda looked over at him.

"The Walnuts do not let anyone in easily."

"You didn't have any trouble," she said.

"I am only a temp." John smiled. "Your mother and father are a rare combination. I do not think that either of them would be so interested in maintaining a relationship with someone else."

"You're saying that they were made for each other?"

"I would imagine that is the reason."

"Yeah, that's what Danielle says." Wanda sat and looked out over the water. "But my parents get away with everything. No matter what they do, they walk away clean. Lucky bastards!" She was quiet for a moment, and then finally said, "Crap don't stick to a Walnut."

"From what I have seen, that seems to go for "all" Walnuts," said John.

"We do get away with some things." She stopped to think again. "But I still would like a decent, permanent relationship."

"You just have not met your match yet."

Wanda sat hunched over, deep in thought, and then suddenly straightened up.

"That's it!" she said. "John, you're a goddamn genius. There's a guy out there that will love me just the way I am, right?"

"Definitely."

Wanda squinted into the distance. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I feel sorry for him already," she said and laughed.

"Why is that?"

"Poor bastard is going to have to be one screwed-up individual to be able to make a Walnut happy. Look at the head Walnuts."

"As long as you do not point it out, he will have a chance."

"Hey, you two," Ricky shouted from the road above, and then started walking down toward them. "How are the gonads, John?"

"I am just glad he was such a small guy."

"Yeah, that kid could have changed your life forever," Ricky said and sat down next to Wanda.

"You recuperated yet?" she asked Ricky.

He shrugged and said, "Christ, how can anyone be so nuts? That crazy broad won't leave me alone, and then she tries to kill me."

"It's a pattern with most of your women, or haven't you noticed?" said Wanda, giggling. "Besides, "you" went and got "her". And what were you thinking, giving a looney mushrooms?"

"But I didn't, it was Ron."

"He's nuts too, as you well know."

"Yeah, well, people should learn how to behave themselves because it gives drugs a bad rap," Ricky said with conviction.

"What the hell is that guy doing?" Wanda pointed to a man struggling through the rough surf. He was heading out into the ocean, the water already up to his waist.

"Jesus that must be cold," said Ricky. "I sure as heck wouldn't go out there."

The three stood up and watched the man go farther and farther out into the pounding surf.

"I think he's in trouble," said Wanda.

"Crazy fool," said Ricky.

The man suddenly went under, disappearing for several long seconds. He struggled back up to the surface just as another wave immediately drove him back under.

"Crazy bastard's going to drown!" Ricky yelled, racing down to the water with Wanda and John right behind him.

The man was struggling to keep his head above the water. Ricky flung his shoes off and raced into the rolling surf, yelping from the ice-cold water. With powerful strokes he swam toward the thrashing man, who went under again and stayed under. Ricky reached the spot where the man was last seen. He paused briefly, looked around, and dove.

Moments later he reappeared with the flailing man, who was grabbing frantically at Ricky's clothes. Ricky held him off, then got behind him and grabbed him around the neck before pulling him back toward the shore.

Wanda and John had gone out into the water to help Ricky and the gagging man. The three pulled him onto the sand and flopped him on his back. The man retched and threw up water and bile.

"Maria!" he exclaimed, rolling over onto his side. He coughed up more water and called out again for Maria.

Ricky was putting his shoes back on and shivering from his plunge into the cold ocean.

The man was jabbering in Spanish and sobbing.

"What the hell is he whining about?" Ricky asked.

"I don't know, I don't understand Mexican," Wanda said.

"His girlfriend, Maria, left him and went back to Mexico," John told them.

"You understand him?" asked Ricky.

"A little," he said, helping the Mexican stand.

He turned back to the ocean and wailed, "Maria!" and then pulled out of John's grasp and started toward the water again.

"What the hell?" Ricky shouted, watching him stumble back into the surf.

When it was apparent that the Mexican was going back into the deep water, Ricky took out after him again. When they were up to their waists, Ricky spun him around.

"You crazy bugger, Mexico's that way!" Ricky shouted and pointed back over his shoulder as the cold swells rocked them both.

"Maria!" shouted the Mexican, pulling away from Ricky and trying for the deep water, still babbling.

"What is your problem?" Ricky shouted. "If you're trying to end it all, I'm not going to freeze my ass off trying to disappoint you."

"No," called John, "he wants to go get her back."

"Not that way!" Ricky shouted, chasing after the Mexican. He pointed out to the ocean, which was now almost up to their chests. "No, 'señor,' no Mexico—Japan." He pointed again and repeated, "Japan, 'comprende?' No Mexico." Then he pointed over his shoulder and smiled. "Mexico, see?" Ricky said, jabbing his hand to the South.

"Maria!" he shouted again, at least now looking in the right direction.

Ricky pulled the sobbing Mexican all the way back to the edge of the surf.

"Mexico!" Ricky exclaimed, pointing south. "Take the bus, you idiot!"

The Mexican shouted once more, "Maria!" but this time headed toward the road and away from Japan.

"Boy, some people shouldn't drink," Ricky said as he walked up to Wanda and John. Together, they continued up to the road above.

"That guy probably would have drowned," John told Wanda. "Ricky the Rat saved him."

"Ricky is a scoundrel most of the time, but he will stand up for you when necessary." Wanda laughed. "We'd better get to the reception. We don't want to miss anything."

"Are you expecting more fun?" asked John.

"Yes, this could be an extraordinary reception. John, did I tell you about the mayor yet?"

"No."

"Oh, John, sharpen your pencil! The mayor of this dinky excuse for a seaside town is a Walnut "fanatic"! He started with Mother and is working his way down. His grandfather owned everything for miles around, and now he does. He's a lecherous old bastard that doesn't take rejection seriously."

*

John and Wanda entered the hotel and were directed toward a ballroom in the back—the only part of the building up against the hill. It had been agreed that the reception should be held where the seventy-foot cliff down to the rocky seashore was inaccessible. Jed, Martha, Ricky, Heather, and Kris were already seated at a large, round table in the middle of the room.

Heather jumped up when she saw John and Wanda approaching. "John," she said, "I want you to meet Kris. I told you about her." Heather had a mischievous look on her face. "Kris loves traveling men." She turned to Kris. "Don't you, Kris?"

"Oh, yes," Kris said, flashing a dopey look at John. "Have you gone far?"

Heather grabbed John's hand. "Kris, this guy right here has traveled more miles than any man you've ever been with. I can guarantee that."

"Oh, I just love to hear about exotic, faraway places," Kris said dreamily.

She snatched John's hand from Heather and pulled him back to her seat.

Heather looked proud of herself and sat down.

"Where's Danielle?" asked Wanda.

"Mr. Mayor was waiting for her at the front door," said Martha.

"He's working his way down, just like I told John," said Wanda.

"I hope she's not going to embarrass me like the rest of you have," Martha vented. After a moment, she grumbled, "What do you mean, "working his way down"?"

Wanda grinned. "Mother, he got his first taste of Walnut long ago, before any of us girls were ripe."

"You just watch the accusations. I don't want this event to be tainted."

"Tainted?" Heather said loudly. "I heard people have been taking bets on whether the bride will have any clothes on at all when she gets here. Oh great, here comes my mother." She flopped back in her seat with a disgusted look.

"Heather, you be nice," said Martha. "She doesn't deserve that kind of attitude from her daughter."

"Attitude? Grandma, there's some old fart trying to grab her ass!"

Heather pointed to her mother, who was hustling toward the table ahead of a tall, well-dressed, elderly man groping at her behind.

"I'm sorry I couldn't attend the wedding," the mayor said when he arrived at the table. Danielle quickly selected a chair, not wanting to be ambushed by the mayor's hands, which were too close to the one he had pulled out for her.

"Now, Harvey, you know Carmen has a problem dealing with you," Martha said. "I didn't think you would show your face."

"Why, Carmen has never been angry with me. I resent that insinuation."

"I didn't insinuate that she got angry, Harvey," she said, chuckling and leaning forward in her chair. "But for some strange reason, she starts laughing every time she sees you, right?"

"Your gorgeous daughter is just delighted to see me," said the mayor, quickly turning to Danielle, "as is this even lovelier creature. Danielle, I fell in love with you the moment I heard you would be here." The mayor slavered and reached for Danielle's hand. "I'd always known that you would be the prettiest of the sisters," he said, kissing it eagerly.

"Carmen had her wedding up here," Wanda quietly told John, "because we used to live here when we were kids. My parents had this gorgeous old Victorian up on the hill, and we all have fond memories of this town. Carmen still comes up here regularly. Oh, and Mother had an affair, long ago, with the mayor there."

Martha heard the exchange. "That is a load of crap!" she declared. "Harvey and I were just friends." She turned to the mayor, who was now trying to get Danielle to sit on his lap. "Isn't that right, Harvey?"

"Oh, Martha, you broke my heart when you moved away." He turned back to Danielle and whined, "Are you going to break my heart too?"

He had put his arm around Danielle's shoulder and was trying to position his twitching hand in range of a breast. She casually twisted in her seat and pushed her shoulder up to keep the hand out of range. Heather was watching intently and looked like she would pounce immediately if the hand found its mark.

"Harvey lured Dad off one day with the offer of a carload of prime steaks from one of his packing plants," said Wanda, laughing.

"That was very expensive meat," said Jed.

"Dad found out she had gone off with the mayor," Wanda continued, "so he drove all over the county looking for them. The steaks thawed out and spoiled, and Dad was so mad—about the steaks—he locked her out of the house. Mother found an ax out in the garage and started to chop at the beautiful oak doors to the front of the house."

"That son of a bitch wouldn't let me in my own house," said Martha.

"What? I spent a lot of money to get those damn doors 'you had to have!' And then," he told everyone, "she ruins them."

"Dad had to get rid of the car," Wanda added. "It stunk like rotten meat and no one would ride in it after that."

"See, Nut Head, you ruined that lovely old Lincoln," said Martha.

"What? You ruined two 'very' expensive doors."

"I have always worked so hard for my constituents," the mayor told Danielle, oblivious to the rest of the table, "that I've never had a chance to spend much of my money . . . and I have a bundle."

"Harvey," Martha shouted, hearing the mayor's new angle, "you dented your bundle pretty good just to keep your job."

"Well, I still have a bundle left," he said, his gaze never leaving Danielle.

"Really? Tell me about it, Harvey," said Danielle, winking at her mother.

"Well, contrary to the rumors my political enemies have started, I have worked hard for this town, and—"

"Harvey, you're as crooked as your pecker!" yelled Martha, cutting off the mayor's speech.

"Your mother never understood me," the mayor said quietly to Danielle.

"She already had my father's bundle," said Danielle.

"Precisely."

"Go on."

"My bundle is still available for the pleasures in life."

"Can I get that in writing?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're promising me your bundle. Can I get that in writing? You have to be careful these days because—who knows—you might just be pumping sunshine up my skirt."

"I, ah . . ." the mayor stumbled, "I could give you anything you desired, you beautiful creature."

"I desire your entire bundle," Danielle said quickly.

The mayor lowered his voice and leaned down close to the table. "Ah, sweetheart, I mean, aren't we getting ahead of ourselves here? We were just talking about having a little fun."

"A little fun!" yelled Danielle, looking shocked. "You said that you wanted to take care of me forever."

"My dear, this is not the place," whispered the mayor.

"I'm not that kind of woman!" she declared. "I need a strong man that will protect me from my psycho ex-boyfriend, who is getting out of prison next week."

"Huh? I didn't know . . . you never—"

The mayor looked pale. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

"I'm sorry if I misled . . ." he said, trailing off.

Jed and Martha were watching Danielle develop the situation with appreciation.

Heather was looking up at the ceiling. She ran her tongue over her teeth with her mouth closed and shook her head slowly with a disgusted look on her face.

John was listening to Kris with fascination. "And I just love all the men I meet," she said, turning a little in her seat to face John. Her legs spread slightly open, the extremely short skirt not doing much to hide her panties. "They're all so interesting," she blathered. "Men always seem to have done so much."

"You need a woman like Kris there," Danielle told the mayor, pointing at Kris across the table. "Kris doesn't have any problems that require a strong, confident man just now. She likes simple men. Men that just like to have a good time."

"Kris," Danielle shouted at her, getting her attention, "stand up for the mayor."

"A mayor?" said Kris, sliding her chair back. "I just love powerful men." She stood up, not bothering to pull her skirt down. The mayor was swiftly on his feet and headed around the table.

"I think our mayor has forgotten his quest for a Walnut," said Martha.

*

Danielle was talking to Jed in the reception room when Heather came running in.

"Mother, Kris is down in one of those old phone booths next to the elevators, do something," she pleaded.

"What are you talking about? Is she making a call?" asked Danielle. "What is it with you? You've been uptight all day. Settle down."

"Mother, she's in the booth with the mayor."

"Well, maybe he's calling—"

"Mother," she lowered her voice, "he's trying to do "the nasty" with her."

"In a phone booth?" Danielle still wasn't taking her seriously. "Oh, come on, you're overreacting."

"Mother, her skirt is up around her waist. And that wasn't the Pillsbury Doughboy and his twin I saw jammed up against the glass."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Mother!"

"Hey, it's the mayor, and it's his town."

"God, you people are so irresponsible!" said Heather, fuming.

"What is your problem?" said Danielle, annoyed. "Heather, you're far from home. Nobody you know is going to find out. If you see anyone with a camera, get the hell out of there. Hell, Kris is Kris and the mayor is the mayor. And as long as he's not trying to feel you up, don't worry about it."

"Fine, I'm going up to the room."

"What is the problem, Heather?"

"I met this boy."

"And?"

"We were going down to the arcade, and—"

"You came across Kris and the mayor."

"Yes, Mother."

"Well, this boy doesn't know Kris."

"I met him at the wedding reception."

"Oh."

"Aunt Carmen is naked at her wedding; you're flaunting your tits, as usual, and now Kris."

"She wasn't naked. Quit exaggerating."

"She might as well have been, Mother. You could see right through that dress, and all anybody can talk about is 'Was she, or wasn't she, wearing underwear?' Well, I didn't see anything that would point to 'she was.'"

"It did look that way," admitted Danielle. "I'm sorry, dear, but it doesn't reflect on you."

"Mother," Heather cried, "Danny, the boy I was telling you about, thinks I'm like that."

"I don't see why he would."

"Why wouldn't he? After what he saw today?" she yelled, then calmed down a bit. "You all think it's so funny, but I meet a nice guy and he thinks I'm like the rest of you. I'm down there, and there is another phone booth right next to the one the mayor and Kris are getting it on in, and gee, I wonder what he's thinking."

"She's got a point," said Jed.

"Oh, don't you start!" said Danielle. "All she—"

Danielle was distracted by a commotion in the hall. A man came running into the ballroom and shouted, "The mayor's been in an accident!"

"Oh my gosh, is he all right?" asked a woman.

"I told you," said Heather. She grabbed her mother's hand and led her to the backdoor of the ballroom.

"We don't know," said the man. "They're trying to get to him now."

"Get to him? What happened?" someone asked, as the ballroom emptied.

"He's jammed in a phone booth. Apparently it fell over and trapped him inside."

Another man ran down the hall to the ballroom and shouted, "Everybody stay calm and let the paramedics do their job. Please stay right where you are!"

Heather and Danielle avoided the crowd and took the back stairs. They went down two floors and came out across from the arcade. They turned left and went down another half-flight of stairs into a narrow hall. At the middle of the hall was an alcove, and in it were two authentic old phone booths—one had tipped over and the door was jammed.

Inside, the mayor, lying on his side, was frantically trying to get the door open. Kris was lying behind him, almost out of sight, with her dress twisted around her waist, hiding nothing. Part of the mayor's shirt protruded from his partly unzipped fly, and his jacket was all askew. He hadn't gotten around to fastening his belt completely. Two of the hotel staff stood at the other end of the hall, watching quietly.

"Kris must have gotten him really hot for this to happen," said Danielle.

"How could anyone be so dumb?" said Heather. "This is so embarrassing."

The mayor struggled to get to his knees but jammed his elbow into Kris, who let out a yelp. She tried to kick him, but only managed to force her skirt up more.

"Oh my gosh!" a woman shrieked. Danielle and Heather turned to find people streaming down the main steps.

"Man is that guy busted now," said Heather.

"This is terrible, somebody help him!" cried another woman. "This is going to ruin his career!"

"This is great!" exclaimed the man next to her. "He wasn't worth a damn anyway."

"Someone help the girl!" another bystander yelled.

A man started to step forward.

"You touch that trollop," the woman next to him declared, "and I'll leave you and take everything you've got!"

The man quickly stepped back into the unruly crowd.

"Who is she?" someone asked.

"She's from that wedding reception upstairs—"

"I heard the wedding was scandalous—"

"The bride and groom were naked—"

"I heard the mayor attended—"

"Looks like he should have declined the invitation—"

"Why doesn't somebody help them?" someone finally asked.

A rush of voices came down the steps—the paramedics. "Stand back, let us through." They calmly surveyed the situation for a moment, and then put their weight into rolling the phone booth over so the door could open. The mayor spilled out first, quickly reaching for the wall to steady himself and stand.

"Everyone back," the mayor shouted, "give this poor girl some room!"

"What happened to her underwear, Harv?" one of the men said. "You eat them?"

Gasps and raucous laughter came from the bystanders.

"I was simply coming to her rescue," stated the mayor.

"Looks like she needed to be rescued from you," the man said.

"She became trapped, and I was trying to help her out," exclaimed the mayor.

"From the inside?" asked the man.

"Oh, Harvey," Kris said sweetly, crawling out on her knees, "don't be silly. No one's going to fall for that." She stood up and smoothed her dress.

"Don't you people have something better to do?" the mayor said after a camera flash went off.

"Bye, Harv, it was fun," Kris said, pushing through the crowd.

"Miss, miss, could we get your name? And could you tell us what happened?" asked the man with the camera, getting ready to take another picture.

"Of course," said Kris. "I've just been in town a short time, and Harv—the mayor—and I were discussing a job opportunity."

"What, polishing his chrome?" cracked another of the bystanders, causing the laughter to ratchet up again.

"No, public relations, or something like that," Kris said innocently. "He didn't say anything about polishing."

This caused more laughter.

"Zip up your pants, Mr. Mayor!" someone shouted, as another flash went off.

Danielle and Heather ran after Kris and caught up to her as she went into the ladies' room.

"Your mother accused him of being as crooked as his pecker," she said, leaning close to the mirror to check her makeup. "She's been with him all right."

"What makes you so sure?" asked Danielle.

"His pecker looks like a baby bird with a broken neck," she said.

"Oh God!" shouted Heather, throwing Kris's underpants at her. "You guys are disgusting!" she yelled and stormed out, leaving Danielle bent over the counter laughing.

*

"Jed, you are such a lucky man. All those beautiful women—"

"Now, Harv, don't play politics with me."

The two were talking outside the hotel after the paramedics had left and things had calmed down. Martha was standing back, but listening.

"It's the truth," the mayor continued. "I had to contend with Sheila all those years, and that was no picnic, you know."

"Yes, I know she was a difficult woman, but they all are," Jed scoffed.

"Yes, that's so true," the mayor said. "But the beautiful ones make it worth it, don't they? I mean, why else would you put up with all that Martha throws at you?"

"I ask myself that question at least twice a day, three times on Sundays. And after all these years, I've never had a clue."

"Jed, it's because she is a beautiful woman."

"Why did you put up with Sheila then? She certainly was no looker."

"Damn if I know, but I did love that woman."

"I know you did, Harv, and I always respected that about you."

"Now that she's gone, I guess I'm making up for lost time, huh?"

Jed laughed. "Harv, you've always been a horn-dog," he said, looking straight at the mayor.

"I've always tried to do right for this town," he said, changing the subject. "You know that, don't you, Jed?"

"Everyone knows that your family took everything they could get their hands on, and I know you've tried to give some back because you weren't made from the same mold. You've done an admirable job here, Mr. Mayor."

Jed put his arm around the mayor's shoulder.

"I sure made a fool out of myself this time, huh?"

"I've never seen a bigger fool in all my days, Harv, but look on the bright side, the Walnuts will never forget you."

"You are such a lucky man, Jed," the mayor said and walked away.

Martha gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek as he went by.

Chapter 14

John was up early the next morning after the long trip from the weddings back to the ranch. He was walking around, enjoying the peacefulness, when he spotted Jed in the kitchen of the main house. The rest of family was still asleep, and he hadn't really ever had a chance to talk to Jed alone.

"Good morning, Jed, mind if I join you?" he asked, stepping onto the porch.

"Space John, come on in," Jed replied through the open window. "I'd think you'd be worn out and looking to recoup a little."

"No, ever since I quit drinking, I've been fine," he said, opening the screen door and going in.

Jed laughed. "What was worse, the hangover or your reputation as a blithering idiot?"

"The hangover did not last as long," John said.

"Yeah, the drink can sneak up on you if you're not prepared. Is it good to be back home?"

"Oh, this isn't my home, so it is kind of like another day on the job."

"That's right, your book, how's it going?"

"At first I was worried about finding enough material, and here I am with so much that I am now worried about what to keep. And I still have one more week."

"To finish?"

"No, to compile material."

"Well, it gives you some time to move around, take a look at some other people."

"That is what is so unique about the Walnuts, they all come to you."

"Bunch of hanger-oners," said Jed, disgusted. "My wallet's always the only one open, it seems."

"You do not like all the excitement?"

"It was okay when I was younger, but I'd like some peace and quiet once in a while. That's why I built this place—so I could come here, close the door, and reflect. I want to take some time and add to it."

"It is a beautiful ranch. You must be proud."

"You should have seen it when we bought it, just a big old alfalfa field."

"No trees?"

"Not a one. A guy Danielle knows builds golf courses. He came in here and dug the lake and made all the contours for us. Martha and I made hundreds of trips to the local nurseries and planted all these trees. It was really great out here then, lots of work to do, so no one bothered us. Now that it's finished, and there's no chance anyone could get their hands dirty, they're here constantly."

"How long has it been since it was just a field?"

"Going on fifteen years now. At first we still had our condo in town, and for the first four years, just came out to plant or water. Then we sold the condo and put in the guest house—that's where you're staying. We lived there for five years and then built this main house. We've been in here five years now."

"I am amazed by all the trees. And they're so big."

"Martha and I worked our tails off. And like I said, nobody else was interested in the working part. They're all just a bunch of lazy good-time seekers."

"Yes, they do seem to enjoy a party."

"I can't imagine what's going to happen to them when I'm gone," Jed said calmly while preparing something next to the sink.

"People learn to adapt."

"I hope you're right." Jed turned around and looked at John. "I guess no one's really gotten "your" story."

"There is not much to tell, really. I don't have anything on the Walnuts."

Jed looked squarely at John. "I think one of the realities of our universe is that we are not alone," he said, smiling. "Considering that we here on Earth, if we don't blow it up, will be traveling in space sometime in the future—say a thousand years or so—I'd say it's not preposterous to accept that it can happen the other way around, don't you think?"

"Makes sense," John agreed.

"I'm sure that when we go, we will send journalists along." Jed looked him straight in the eyes. "Wouldn't it be fantastic to be one of them?"

"Yes," said John, nodding. He returned Jed's gaze and smiled. "It would be quite an honor."

"I just hope that journalist can find something to write about, don't you?" Jed said and returned to his task.

"Something like the Walnuts?"

"Yes, it would make a good story to take home." Jed looked out the window up to the sky and sighed. "Saw one"—he pointed to the side of the house closest to the lake—"from right over there."

"Saw what?"

"A space ship, a big mother."

"Really?" John said, inching forward.

"Yeah, that golf course guy and I were sitting having a couple of beers while the house was being built. It was dusk, just a little light left on the horizon, and I looked up and something huge was moving across the sky, right up there, going that way." He pointed left to right. "Not a sound from it. No defined edges either. It just blotted the stars out as it moved over us. Both of us were pilots at one time or the other and trusted our eyes. We judged it to be half a mile wide, right up there about fifteen to twenty-thousand feet up.

"Anyway," Jed went on, "we both confirmed what we were watching and called for Martha and Danielle. She happened to be here at the time. Danielle's fingernail polish was still wet, so we got no response. When we went in to tell them what they had missed. They dismissed us, claiming we had drunk too much beer. Can you imagine? Something like that is not as important as makeup."

"People tend to have their priorities," said John.

"What do you think is our biggest problem?" he asked.

"The Walnuts?"

"No, Christ, we're too far gone to worry about. I mean all of us, this screwed up world."

"Same as everywhere, I guess, uncertainty about the future."

"Same as where you live?"

"Roughly the same. We "have" managed to streamline our mad dash for the future, so we are not as dangerous to ourselves as we used to be."

"We certainly are," admitted Jed.

"Yes, the time before meaningful or constructive rules."

"I think we have too many."

"Rules are made to be followed, not bent or disregarded altogether," said John.

"A la Walnut?"

"Precisely."

*

Martha and Heather came into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Grandpa," Heather said and gave him a hug.

"John and I have been talking," he said, "and we've come to the conclusion that not only aren't there enough rules around here, but everybody just ignores the ones we have. That is going to change. From now on—"

"Oh, shut up!" snarled Martha. "The last thing I need to hear first thing in the morning is your crap!"

Jed looked at John and laughed. "I guess we're not ready yet."

*

"Hey!" Danielle yelled from the back hall. "An old beat-up van just pulled up, and the circus is getting out."

"My guys are here," Jed said. "Come on, John, I'll show you how a ranch is run properly."

"Then you'd better take him someplace else," Martha yelled at Jed's back.

"You've got to see this," Danielle said, coming into the family room. "I can't believe those guys Dad hired to build the porch. They look like MLC Inc."

"MLC?" asked Martha.

"Yeah, Moe, Larry, and Curly, The Three Stooges. You guys have got to come and see this."

"Only your father would consider hiring idiots just to save a buck," Martha told Danielle, walking down the hall to see the spectacle in the parking area. "Oh, for Christ's sake, I don't believe this."

"I heard that!" Jed shouted, walking up to the backdoor. "Those are professionals. You should have more respect for people that earn a living."

"Professionals?" Danielle said, giggling as she looked out the window with her mother. "I was just out there. A crazy, excited Turk, a Mexican that looks like Momar Kadafi, and an old man with a walker. You call that a construction company? How much beer did you promise them?"

"Beer?" shouted Martha. "Jed, you don't give them any beer until they're done, you hear me?"

"They are experienced craftsmen," Jed said defensively.

Danielle laughed. "Dad, Krypton Construction?"

"What is wrong with that? It's a good name."

"That's probably where the home office is," said Martha.

"Dad, it looks like they used a crayon," Danielle said, pointing to the van.

"Grandpa, the Kadafi look-alike is straightening old rusty nails," Heather said, pointing to where Krypton Construction was setting up.

"They're economizing."

"Yeah, because you're not paying them anything in the first place," said Martha.

"This is a very expensive operation to run, John," Jed explained, trying to build some outside support. "My family can't appreciate the—"

"Being cheap is no excuse for this!" Martha shouted and stalked back down the hall.

*

Martha and Danielle sat on the porch drinking coffee. A lot of hammering was going on around the corner of the house where the new porch addition was being built.

"Hey, you guys, come here. You've got to see this," said Heather, watching the construction crew from the porch railing.

Martha and Danielle got up and went to where Heather was standing.

"Watch the old guy." Heather chuckled. "He lets go of the walker to hammer, then grabs it quickly before he falls down."

"I can't imagine how much that old fool is paying these guys," said Martha, disgusted.

"The old guy really likes you, Grandma," she said. "He's blowing you kisses."

The old man was looking straight at Martha and wiggling his tongue at her.

"This is disgusting!" she yelled. "Where's Nut Head?"

Danielle and Heather burst out laughing.

The phone on the porch started to ring. Martha hurried over to answer it. She was still angry.

"Yeah? Hello!" she yelled into the phone.

"Oh, Madeline, I'm sorry . . . I'm just angry at the old fool . . .

"I know they're all fools." . . .

"Yeah, well, I got the 'king' over here."

Martha turned to Danielle. "Madeline says there's an old beat-up van out back in the date grove. Some wild-looking guy is loading all that old lumber we gave the neighbor."

She spoke into the phone again, "Describe it." . . .

"Uh huh, white, really beat-up, green lettering on the side." . . .

"Does it say, "Krypton Construction"?" . . .

"Ah huh, that would be the leader of the construction company Jed hired to do the porch. The rest of the pod is still over here." . . .

"Come and see for yourself," she said, and put the phone down.

*

Madeline stood watching the big Kadafi look-alike work. "He seems to know what he's doing," she observed.

"One out of four ain't bad," snarled Martha.

"I thought there were only three of them?"

"I'm including the fourth stooge, Jed."

"Oh." Madeline laughed.

"Hey!" shouted Danielle from the corner of the house. "The old guy with the walker fell in the lake! Hurry!"

They all ran to the side of the house. Down at the lake, Heather was dragging the old man out of the water. "I had to rescue him," she said.

"What was he doing down there?" Martha shouted from the porch.

"Taking a pee," said Heather.

"In our lake? We swim in there!" she yelled, storming down to the water. She walked right up to the old man who was still dripping wet. "Goddamn it, you go piss someplace else! We swim in here!" She pointed at the lake.

"No comprende," said the old man.

"No pee, no pee!" Martha shouted, pointing down at his pants.

"Ah, 'señora,'" he said and looked down at his crotch, smiling.

"Oh, for! . . ." Martha exclaimed, jumping back. "He didn't get zipped up!"

"No pee, damn it, no pee!"

The old man seemed to understand and started pointing at the lake.

"Flishbee, flishbee," he said.

"What the hell's he saying? Frisbee, Frisbee? What the hell's he talking about?"

"I think he's saying "fish pee"," said Heather.

"I don't care if the fish piss in the lake! 'You don't!'" Martha shouted at the old man and stomped off.

*

"Marco calling Turkey Guy, Marco calling Turkey Guy," the Kadafi look-alike, Marco, yelled into his handheld radio. "Come in, Turkey Guy!"

There was nothing but static coming back from the radio.

"Blasted Turkey Guy, come in!" he continued.

"What's the problem?" Jed asked, heading his way.

"Lumber, we need lumber now," Marco said. "Where did Turkey Guy go?"

"I gave him money to get the lumber," said Jed.

Marco got back on the radio. "This is Marco calling Turkey Guy, Marco for Turkey Guy, come in, Turkey Guy."

"Why do you call him Turkey Guy?" asked Jed.

"He comes from there?" said Marco, uncertain.

"He's a Turk?"

"Is that a Turkey Guy?"

Jed shook his head impatiently. "Yeah, probably."

"Yeh, yeh, yeh," screamed the Turk from the radio.

"Turkey Guy, this is Marco. Where are you located?"

"Yeh, yeh! I stuck in mud!" cried Turkey Guy.

"What are you doing in mud?" asked Marco.

"The van, you dumb Mexican, the van is stuck in mud!"

"Not again," he sighed and looked at Jed, shaking his head. "Dumb-ass foreigner."

"Yeh, yeh, yeh," screamed the Turk. "You and Blanco come now!"

"Blanco no can come," Marco said, smiling at Jed. "He stuck in mud."

"Yeh, yeh, why you say this?"

"Blanco fell in lake," he said, mocking the Turk's English.

"Yeh, yeh, he work. Why at lake?"

"Don't know. Maybe counting fishes?"

"Yeh, yeh, he must work."

"What's with the 'yeh, yeh' all the time?" asked Jed.

"Turkey Guy gets excited."

"Well, where is Turkey Guy? We need to get this porch done before my wife starts in on us. You don't need that, trust me."

"Turkey Guy, where are you stuck?" Marco shouted into the radio.

"Yeh, yeh, I don't know."

Marco rubbed his eyes and started swearing in Spanish, "'Tu puta madre,' Turkey Guy. How we supposed to—"

"You morons!" Martha shouted out the door. "Your fearless leader is out behind Madeline's in the date grove. Jed, get over there right now and get this cluster fuck back on the road! You hear me?"

"Okay, let's go get Turkey Guy out of the mud," said Jed.

"No, "señor". If we do not do it ourselves, Turkey Guy will be mad. And then we get no money," said Marco.

"What? And how do you propose to get the van unstuck?" asked Jed.

"I push it."

"What? The crazy Turk doesn't help?"

"Yes, he drives."

"What? Get Blanco to drive."

Marco shook his head vigorously. "Oh, no, "señor". Blanco . . . he not good. He hit house."

"What? . . . We'll use my pickup to get him out," said Jed, exasperated.

"Oh, no, "señor", then Turkey Guy will be mad, and then we don't get all our money."

"I don't care!" yelled Jed. "I just want this job done . . . And to hell with Turkey Guy. I'll bet Blanco isn't going to get paid anyway after falling in the lake."

"Oh, no, "señor", Turkey Guy no pay Blanco. He buy him beer at end of day."

"What? That poor old guy works for nothing but a few beers? That's not too honest of Turkey Guy."

"Oh, no, "señor", Blanco's wife give Turkey Guy money for the beer so Blanco is out of her way. She has girls in her house, and Turkey Guy goes there."

"Why the hell would you work for a guy like that?"

Marco shrugged. "I am foreman."

"You must be proud," said Jed, off to rescue Turkey Guy with his pickup.

*

Danielle and Heather walked up to the porch, where Martha was sitting.

"Mother, what do you think you're growing in that flower bed along the waterfall?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Heather and I were just down there. Mother, that's pot growing there."

"Oh, come on, it's just some weeds."

"Well, you're technically right there. It is definitely "weed"."

"It must have just blown in," Martha said.

"No, Mother, it's all nice and sticky and purple and cultivated. It's got "guess who" written all over it."

"That goddamn Ricky the Rat!" snarled Martha. "No wonder he's been coming out offering to help."

"Ricky voluntarily agreed to do something constructive, and you didn't suspect anything?" Danielle laughed. "That is the first sign of Alzheimer's, Mother."

"Oh no!" Martha sat up quickly. "Do you think Al, from down the street, noticed it? He was out admiring our waterfall because he wants to put one in his place."

"What are you getting so excited about? It's probably no big deal if he did," said Danielle.

"He's the district attorney, you boob!"

"Oh!" Danielle chuckled with her hand over her mouth.

"You think everything is so funny when it happens to someone else, but you sure squawk when he does it to you."

"Like a three-hundred-pound opera singer giving him oral sex in my bed?" said Danielle.

"Danielle, your daughter is present," Martha said sternly.

"Oh, pfuut, Mother, she's the one that told John about it."

"Heather!" Martha said.

"Grandma, if you were worried about my innocence, you certainly wouldn't let me come out here, or hang around the Walnuts. You'd send me to a convent or something."

"See!" shouted Martha. "You're ruining this child with all your irresponsible actions, every one of you!"

*

A half-hour later Jed drove back into the ranch. He got out of the pickup, came into the house, and went straight for the refrigerator. He got a beer, popped the top, and gulped down the contents.

"Well?" asked Martha.

"Well, what?" Jed was perturbed about something.

"The porch—when is it going to get done?" scolded Martha.

No response from Jed.

She tried again. "You've been gone a long time, and nothing is getting done. Where have you been?"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Jed, going for another beer.

Heather walked in. "Hey, Grandpa, what's that sticking out of the back of your truck?"

"I told you all, I don't want to talk about it!" he said, turning on his heels and going outside.

"This must have cost him a bundle," said Martha. "He's not even trying to defend himself."

Martha followed Heather outside to see what she was talking about. Danielle was out by the truck, gazing at a long, heavy, metal object with a tire on one end. The other end was deeply imbedded in the twisted tailgate of Jed's pickup. The object had a big nylon rope tied around it. The other end of the rope was attached to the trailer hitch.

"What the hell is that thing?" asked Martha.

"Judging from the one tire still on that end," Heather said, pointing to the end not stuck in the truck, "I'd say that is what's left of Krypton Construction."

"Huh?"

"Somebody probably tied the rope to the Turkey Guy's van and tried to pull it out of the mud," she explained.

Martha was annoyed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Danielle laughed. "I'd say the axle and the van are no longer one."

"Poor Grandpa," said Heather.

"Poor Grandpa, my ass," snarled Martha. "He'll never learn."

"The only thing those guys were missing was Daffy Duck," Danielle said, shaking her head and laughing.

As Jed walked back from the storage shed, Heather asked, "Grandpa, how come you didn't leave the axle from the van with Krypton?"

"I can't get the knot loose, and I'm not going to ruin a perfectly good rope," he growled, continuing on his task.

"Can you imagine how much this is going to cost him? And he's worried about the rope," said Martha, looking at the mangled tailgate. "True to form, like always. I need a beer."

"But Grandma, it's only two," said Heather, grinning.

"Bullshit. I'd know if it wasn't three yet," she said and headed for the house.

"No, Grandma, I swear, it's not three yet." Heather looked at her watch with a devious smirk on her face.

*

"Boy is Mother in a foul mood," Danielle said, coming into the family room.

"What's her problem now?" asked Jed.

"I don't know. She's in her bedroom pacing back-and-forth."

"She's probably getting really thirsty," said Heather. She looked over at John and giggled.

"What the hell is going on here?" Martha howled, coming down the hall. "Somebody set all the clocks back an hour! I knew it was three o'clock! Somebody is going to pay!"

Heather quietly sneaked out of the room. She looked back at John from the hall and gave him a thumbs up.

"John, you devil," whispered Jed, who had seen the signal from Heather.

*

"Where's that goddamn Ricky?" Jed asked. "I see his car here." He walked out to the porch.

"He's out rummaging around in the burn pit," said Danielle. "He's all pissed off because you pulled up his plants. He's trying to salvage them."

"Well, I wish him luck. I burned the whole lot of them this morning."

"Geez, Dad! You should have told us so we could have hung around the fire and gotten really stoned."

"You kids and your dope smoking," Martha scolded her. "Christ, it's no wonder you're all so screwed up."

"Mother, you pickle your brain cells with beer, and "we're" the ones that are screwed up? Besides," she continued, "it's the breeding that did us in. The pot helps keep us under control."

"What?" said Jed. "You don't even know how to spell "control"."

*

"I can't believe you burned up all my pot!" yelled Ricky, approaching. "I can't trust you guys with anything!"

"What? Trust? What the hell do you know about trust? You sneak out here and plant illegal drugs, and you talk about trust. They could confiscate this whole place!"

"Well, they didn't, so don't get so excited. Do you realize how much money I could have made?"

"What? Do you know how much money it could have cost us?"

*

"What'cha reading, sweetie?" Danielle asked Heather.

"There's an article on how to cut hair. It looks easy. I'll bet I could do it."

Martha jumped in. "Why don't you start with John? He needs one badly. It looks like somebody just put a bowl on his head and cut around it."

"Mother, quit picking on poor John," said Danielle.

"You like his hair that way? You know, he wouldn't be a bad-looking man if he got it fixed."

"I'll do it," offered Heather.

Danielle chuckled. "Oh, sweetie, you don't know how to cut hair."

"It's easy, says so right here in the magazine." Heather enthusiastically showed the magazine to her mother. "Here, look, this article tells you everything you need to know. How about it, John? Grandma's right, you look goofy like that."

"I don't know," said John.

"Hell, whatever she does to you has to be an improvement," said Martha.

"Oh, come on, John, what have you got to lose?" asked Heather, getting up from her seat. "Grandpa, you got some sharp scissors?"

"You're not really going for this, are you?" he asked John.

"You stay out of this, Nut Head!"

John just shrugged his shoulders, not sure how to proceed. "I don't know, you really think I—"

"It can't look any worse than it does now!" said Martha.

"Welll, . . . I guess . . . I can't . . ," John stammered.

"John, you sound worried," Danielle pointed out.

"Poor, dumb bastard, you didn't learn a thing from the makeup, did you?" Jed asked, shaking his head. "I'll get the scissors."

"Come on, sit over here," Heather instructed. "I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

"Hey, John, what have you got to lose?" added Danielle.

"Geez, don't scare the guy away," said Martha. "It's just going to be a haircut. Keep it simple."

"Well, I guess," John complied, looking at the chair.

"Oh, boy! This is going to be a gas," said Heather. She plunked John down and ran her hands through his hair. "Nobody will recognize you when I'm finished!"

"How much more of a warning do you need?" Jed asked, returning with scissors.

"You hush up, you old fool," said Martha.

Heather shot into the kitchen to grab a towel and a big pitcher filled with water. She came back and draped the towel around John's shoulders. She reached over and grabbed the magazine, laying it out on the table next to John. She studied the magazine for a moment.

"I need a comb," she said.

"Right here," said Danielle, reaching into her purse.

Heather dashed over and back.

"Okay, you're going to be a new man, John," she said, wetting her hands and running them through John's hair while studying the magazine. She tried to comb his hair back, but it wouldn't stay.

"Needs more water," she said, dipping her cupped hands in the water. She poured the water over his head and rubbed her hands through his hair again.

"There, that should do it."

Water dripped from John's blank face as Heather picked up the scissors and consulted the magazine again. She combed up a soggy chunk of hair and went to work with the scissors. She made a big snip, but the scissors got stuck halfway through.

"Boy, these aren't very sharp," she said, prying the stuck scissors apart with both hands.

"I can't stand to watch this," Jed said. "It's like having to witness an execution."

"I told you to hush up!" Martha threatened him. She seemed to be enjoying the spectacle immensely.

Heather took the comb and went for the same chunk of hair that was already partially severed.

"This isn't as easy as it looks," she declared, really applying the pressure this time. The scissors did their work and finally got through the first tuft of hair.

"Uh oh, poor John," said Danielle, laughing.

Heather combed up another chunk of hair, this time cutting right through the first try.

"Don't you think you're taking too much?" asked Danielle.

"Mother, do you know how to cut hair?"

"Well, not really," she had to admit.

"Well, I do, so hush up," said Heather, taking another big cut.

A large chunk of hair fell on John's face, sticking to his nose.

"Whatever you say, dear," said Danielle with an amused look on her face.

Heather was getting the system down. She combed up a large chunk of hair, got the scissors in place, and with a determined snip, more hair fell to the floor.

"See, I told you I could do it," she said proudly. "Grandpa, you could use a little trim yourself, so I'll do you next."

"Yeah, Jed, you are a little shaggy," added Martha, a devious grin on her face.

Jed looked concerned but didn't say anything.

Heather continued to clip away, looking to the magazine now and then, working her way across John's head.

Martha got up from her chair. "I like this side over here better," she said, pointing to John's head.

"Yeah, I think you're right," said Heather, going to the other side.

"Geez, Heather, I don't think you did the top too well," added Danielle. "Look how it's different over here."

"Oh, Mother, I can fix that, just watch."

"No, damn it, you guys don't know anything. It's better right there," Martha added, grabbing part of John's hair.

"No, it's not!" shouted Heather. "I'm trying to feather it. See how it stands out right here."

Heather took the comb and dragged it through the problem area. John let out a slight yelp as the comb got stuck.

"Damn, this guy's got weird hair," she said, defending her technique.

"He has beautiful hair," countered Martha.

"I thought you didn't like it?" said Danielle.

"I said," emphasized Martha, "that he had a terrible haircut."

"Oh, right," conceded Danielle. "I'm not too sure this is going to be an improvement, though."

"Mother, I am not done yet, so please," Heather said with a look of absolute concentration on her face.

"Oh, sweetie, you're doing a great job."

"No, she's not. It's still uneven right there." Martha pointed to the spot again.

"I don't think so!" argued Heather.

"Well, John, turn your head." Martha grabbed his head and twisted it toward Heather. "See? It doesn't match."

"It matches," declared Heather.

"No, I think Grandma is right," Danielle said, studying John's hair.

Jed slipped out of the room.

"No, damn it, you're doing this all wrong. Why don't you ever listen?" asked Martha. "I need another beer, because I can't stand to watch this."

"Good! You're not helping anyway!" shouted Heather.

"That is no way to talk to your grandmother," Danielle said sternly.

"You guys are so cruel!" shouted Heather. "I was just trying to help, and I'll never do this again!" She threw the scissors down and stomped out of the room.

Danielle looked concerned. "Well, John, I guess that didn't come out so hot. I wonder what we can do about your hair?"

*

The haircut fiasco had lost its novelty, and Martha was on her fourth beer.

"Nut Head's disappeared, as usual," she said.

"Do you know where he goes?" asked Danielle.

"Oh, yeah, there's a discount food place in town, and he goes there almost every day. They have all this canned food from Mexico, really cheap, and you know your father, he can't resist.

"Mother, there might be a bordello in the back," said Danielle.

"Well, they would have to be slashing prices there too. Otherwise, your father wouldn't be interested."

Danielle laughed.

"You guys are always making fun of Grandpa, and I think it's terrible," said Heather, stomping through the room, headed outside.

*

"Hey, Dad's back," said Danielle, entering the family room. "You'll never guess where he went."

"Why should I care?" snorted Martha.

"Oh, Mother," said Danielle. "I feel kind of bad for Heather. She's going to be hurt."

"What are you talking about? So Nut Head is back. What's that got to do with her?"

"He went and got a haircut."

"That asshole!" shouted Martha, jumping up. She left the family room and caught Jed coming in the backdoor to his office.

"What's the meaning of this?" she shouted.

"The meaning of what?"

"This!" Martha reached up and grabbed a chunk of Jed's hair and twisted.

"Oww!" howled Jed. "What's got you so upset? I was in town and I got a trim. You're the one that said I was shaggy."

"You know Heather was looking forward to doing it," Martha scolded him.

"I figured she'd be tired of the whole deal after massacring John."

Heather was walking by the office. "I heard that Grandpa."

"Oh, geez, Heather, I'm sorry. I was right there next to the barber shop, and everyone said—"

"Oh, quit groveling. It's a nice haircut," Heather said and continued down the hall.

"So how bad is it?" Jeb asked.

"Oh, it's really, really bad," said Danielle. "I promised to take him into town first thing in the morning to get it fixed."

Chapter 15

"Hey, everyone, there's a big motor home pulling up to the gate," yelled Heather.

"That must be Chuck and Paula," said Martha. "We've been expecting them for a couple of days."

"Oh, no," said Heather, exasperated, "not Chucky Whucky and Voodoo Paula."

"Chucky Whucky?" asked John.

"His real name is Charles Whucky the third," Martha said. "He has the worst time at the bank. He signs his checks 'Chucky Whucky,' and nobody takes him seriously."

"His name is not the problem," said Danielle. "When was the last time he went into a bank sober?"

"That might be never," Jed added.

"If you think you've seen some crazy people so far," Danielle told John, pointing out to the motor home, well, they ain't got nothing on these two."

The Walnuts headed outside to greet Chucky Whucky and Voodoo Paula.

*

Paula was the first down the steps and spotted the Walnuts coming out to meet them.

"Voodoo rules!" she shouted, lifting a large glass above her head.

"God bless rotten Russian potatoes!" shouted Chucky, right behind her with a glass of his own.

When they started toward the house, another woman came to the door of the motor home and looked around carefully. Jed saw her and groaned.

As she moved farther out of the door, Danielle shouted, "Oh no!"

Martha also recognized the woman and was absolutely livid. She turned immediately to Chucky. "What the hell were you thinking? How dare you bring that woman here!"

"We thought it might be time to bury the hatchet," said Paula, cradling her big glass full of vodka next to her side.

"I'll bury the hatchet all right—right in her goddamn head!" shrieked Martha, taking off toward the motor home.

The woman flinched and jumped back into the coach.

"Now, Marthie," said Chucky, stepping in front of her. "Penelope wants to redeem herself. After all, it has been some time, and people should forgive."

"Forgive hell; I want that woman out of here right now."

"But, Marthie, she has no place to go," said Chucky.

"Like hell, she can go with you because you're leaving," Martha hissed. She turned sharply and headed back toward the house.

"But you don't mean that. We just got here."

"Golly, Jed. I didn't think after all this time she'd still be that upset."

"What? I can tell you that seeing good old Penelope again isn't much of a thrill for me either."

"Now, Jed, you can't really mean that. After all—"

"After all what, Chucky?"

"It was just a poor business decision," he tried to explain.

"What?" shouted Jed. "It was outright fraudulent behavior on her part." He looked over Chucky's shoulder at the motor home, where Penelope had taken refuge. "Sorry, Penelope, but I can't hold my tongue!"

"That's okay, Jed, that's why I came here," she said in a soft, calm voice from safe inside. "I wanted to make it up to you."

"What? You can make it up to me by getting the hell out of here! Now!"

"Please, Jed, let me make it up to you," Penelope said.

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"Well, Jed." Penelope came shyly to the door. "The business that I swindled you and Chucky out of became quite lucrative, and I want to give you your fair share of the proceeds."

"What?" Jed's usual opening was this time infused with curiosity. "What are we talking here?" he asked.

"We are talking about enough to have even Marthie forgive and forget," added Chucky.

He took a check out of his shirt pocket.

"That might take half the gross national product," said Jed.

"Well, we might as well start by getting your forgiveness first," Chucky said, handing Jed the check, "and work out the more serious matters later."

Jed looked at the check and a little smile appeared on his face. "It seems that my heart is suddenly full of forgiveness." Jed looked up at Penelope, who was still standing in the doorway of the motor home. "How have you been all these years?"

"I've been good," she said, walking down the steps, "but running that business was an immense amount of work, and now that I've sold it, I want to enjoy myself, renew old friendships, things like that."

"Don't go thinking a bundle of cash is going to win Martha over that easily."

"I know, but it's a start," she said, extending her hand to Jed. "How have you been, you big, good-looking guy?"

"I've been fine, and you're looking very fit yourself," he said.

"Having money is good for you, if you know how to spend it properly."

"So it is," Jed said, looking at the check again and smiling. "So it is . . . Well, I'll go show Martha the peace offering and see what happens."

"Good to see you, Penelope," said Danielle, finally. "I don't know if you remember my daughter, but this is Heather."

"My gosh, what a beautiful young woman you've become," said Penelope. "You were still a little girl the last time I saw you."

"Well, I don't remember you," said Heather.

"Heather, don't be rude," Danielle told her, then turned back to Penelope. "Well, good luck with my mother. I'm sure a few bucks can win over my dad, but you've got your work cut out for you with her. I don't think it was the money she was really pissed about, but seducing my father in her own home. That was your undoing."

Chucky walked next to Jed toward the house. "What the hell happened to that guy?" he whispered, spotting John and his chopped hair standing next to the fence.

"Oh, he was trying to save a few bucks. I tried to tell him that it doesn't work—that you get what you pay for—but he refused to listen." Jed went into the house and Chucky followed, looking at him with a queer, mystified expression.

*

Chucky, Paula, and Penelope had gone through the family room and were sitting out on the porch, enjoying the lake and its surrounding beauty. They were listening to Jed and Martha argue from way in the back of the house. There was some loud talk from Jed. Then a door banged and Martha yelled, "You old fool, the damn check's no good, and you let her into my house?"

Martha came stomping down the great hall, coming toward them. She rounded the corner and continued her march through the family room. She grabbed the screen door to the porch and pulled it right off the runners. With the check in her hand, she yelled at Penelope, "Okay, sister, what is the meaning of this?"

"It's my peace offering," she said softly.

"The goddamn thing's no good! You might fool the Nut Head, like you always managed to, but how dumb do you think I am?"

"It's good," said Paula. "Chucky Whucky cashed an identical one last week, didn't you, Chucky?"

"Sure did." He looked at Martha. "It's a good check, Marthie."

"I don't believe it! That woman," she said, thrusting a finger at Penelope, "just wants to ruin my happy home, the same as last time!"

"The last time I set my sights on the leather business, and I got what I wanted. And now I'm here to make amends," said Penelope.

"I'm leaving!" shouted Martha.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Jed.

"I'm calling Perry. He's been so good to me," Martha said, racing down the great hall.

"Not the liver doctor again," Chucky told John. "Martha has this boyfriend that is as wide as he is tall. He adores her, and every time she and Jed seriously get into it, she runs off to Santa Fe to him."

John slipped away into the great hall. Martha's bedroom door was open. She was pulling open dresser drawers, grabbing clothes, and stuffing them into a suitcase. John knocked on the door frame, but Martha didn't respond, so he knocked louder. She spun around.

"What the hell do you think you're doing back here?" she growled. "This part of the house is not for guests!"

"I wanted to talk to you," he said.

"Get the hell out of here!"

"Martha, what has you so bothered?" He stepped into the bedroom.

"What the hell is it to you?"

"We've become friends, and I hate to see you so upset. It's not a serious thing. The woman obviously means nothing to Jed."

"I do not forget when I've been wronged, and you are treading on serious ground right now!"

"Wrongs can be righted."

"No, they can't! You don't know anything, you . . . freak!"

"I know you're the Queen of the Walnuts," he said, walking toward her.

"What has that got to do with that woman in my house, and your blatant disregard of my privacy?"

"Absolutely nothing. That's what I'm getting at. Since when does a real queen have to sweat the small stuff?"

Martha looked at him with her patented death stare but didn't say anything.

"The queen is the queen and is responsible for the continuity of her court," he explained, taking her hand and looking into her eyes. "And no one can take that away from her."

"Get the hell out of my room," Martha said quietly.

*

A short time later she came back onto the porch. "Get the queen a beer," she ordered John.

"With pleasure, Your Majesty," John said, going to the kitchen.

"Danielle, get me those damn clippers. I can't stand looking at him anymore." Martha pointed to John, and then turned to Penelope. "You may have won Nut Head over with a little bit of cash, but you don't fool me, sister. You pull any of your stunts, and I won't be so big about it next time."

"I told everyone. I've made mine and now I want to share," declared Penelope.

"You only share your money, sister!" said Martha. "You stay the hell away from my husband."

"Don't worry. I only seduced him back then to get the leather company."

"What?" Jed sounded hurt.

"But, Penelope," Chucky interrupted. "I thought it was because Jed could get no head."

"I don't want to hear any of that!" shouted Martha. "It's disgusting, and I won't have anything—"

"But that's one of my missions—head for Jed!"

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stick to the downtrodden in Mexico," said Martha.

Jed had gone to the kitchen, out of Martha's sight, and was swinging his arms at Chucky, gesturing for him to cut the conversation.

Chucky plowed on. "Now, Marthie, we appreciate your concern," he said, "but we were only looking out for Jed, you know. Because every man should get head once in a while."

"Don't you start that again!" said Martha.

"That's what it was all about in the first place," said Paula. "Poor Jed was a married man in need of head, and you refused."

"I still do. I think that it is just revolting."

"No head for Jed," said Chucky. "Penelope felt sorry for him and wanted to do something about it, and that's where all the trouble started."

"I said, "No head for Jed"!" screamed Martha. "I'll give anyone five hundred bucks to off the old fool."

"I'll take it!" said Chucky. "I can use the money to free the prisoners in Mexico."

"Jed, write him a check," said Martha.

"What? Use your own damn money."

"You're the old fool, for Christ's sake. You should have to pay, because I'm not spending my money."

"Well, I'm not going to off him if I'm not going to get paid," said Chucky.

"Lucky for you, Dad, no one's willing to put up the cash," Danielle said, smiling at her father.

"So what are you going to do with your share of the loot?" Jed asked Chucky.

"Because of Penelope, I'm about to undertake my life's work and—"

"And free all the prisoners in Mexico," said Martha, cutting in.

"That's right. There's an unjust people that run that country, and it is up to someone like me to free the people from tyranny."

"You're not taking the motor home," said Paula, taking a big gulp from her glass.

"Why not? It's half mine," whined Chucky.

"Because you wreck it every time I let you drive it, and besides, you don't have a license anymore, remember?"

"A mere technicality."

"Not if you get pulled over," said Paula. "You don't like jail, and if you get caught driving again, that's where you're going. Besides, you'd never make it out of the gate."

"I shall procure my own transportation then. I shall not be thwarted!" said Chucky, raising his half-empty glass in triumph. "They need me down there!" He took a long pull from his glass. "And when I'm done with my mission, I'll be back to get Jed some head."

*

"Grandma!" shouted Heather, rushing into the family room the next morning with a good-looking boy following her. "Chucky is standing out on the road wearing only a bathrobe. There's a rusty old sword stuck in the sash, and he's waving a pistol. He's got a sign that says "Mexico", and something about prisoners." Heather stopped, gulped for air, and then continued, "I'm so embarrassed. Every time I meet a boy, this happens." Heather took another deep breath. "And there's a huge banner hanging from your gate that says "Head for Jed". You can read it from the road."

"I didn't know you had left," replied Martha. "I guess Chucky must have gotten up early this morning."

"Grandma, I went home. And that is no excuse for a crazy man being here. I get totally embarrassed again and it's all because Chucky was up too early?"

"Now, dear, it's not that bad. It's not like he's a relative or something," said Martha.

"Chucky always falls apart when he comes to the ranch," Paula said, walking in.

"That's no excuse either!" wailed Heather.

"But it's a tradition," Paula tried to explain. "Chucky has a very intense sense of responsibility. The Walnuts expect it, and he tries not to let people down, especially his Mexican friends."

"Where's Mother?" Heather huffed, finally giving up on them.

"I don't know, somewhere with Space John?" said Martha. "Don't bother me. I'm not feeling my best."

"Got a hangover again, huh?" sneered Heather.

"What do you expect? They bring that woman into my house, and I'm supposed to maintain?"

"If you were smart, you'd figure out some way to make "her" suffer, not yourself," said Heather.

"Oh, you think you're so clever. You just wait until you're my age and have to deal with everything."

"Oh, Grandma, quit being so melodramatic. I'm going to find Mother," Heather went out to the porch and the young man followed. "If you find her first, tell her Aunt Wanda called and she's coming down for a few days."

*

The Walnuts and their guests, including Heather and her new young man, had gathered on the porch. Danielle was giggling with someone on the phone just inside the door.

"I don't know. The last time." . . .

"Are you sure?" . . .

"Well, if you promise." . . .

"You got me at a good time. I sure do need a little vacation." . . .

"Oh, I can imagine. It must be a nice car." . . .

"You promise there won't be any problems this time?" . . .

"Well, okay, if you say so," she said and hung up.

"Who was that?" Heather asked in her snotty tone, walking through the door.

"None of your business," Danielle said in her own snotty tone.

"It was that idiot, Gus, wasn't it?" Heather demanded.

"What makes you think that?"

"I heard you say something about a car, and that means Gus."

"I've got to go," said Danielle, hurriedly looking for her purse.

"Mother!" said Heather with her hands on hips. "Where are you going?"

Danielle was already headed to the door.

"We need to go home, and I need to pack," she said. "I'm going on a trip, so I'll see you all later. Come on, Heather, and I don't want to hear any of your crap!"

"It is Gus, isn't it?" Heather wailed. "You're going on a trip with Gus! Mother, after what he did to you the last time?"

"Hey, I'm just going to Phoenix, so just hush. And I'm not going anywhere with him, I'm just doing something for him."

Martha jumped in. "Same thing," she added. "If the devil called and needed a sucker to accompany him, you'd be packed before the phone was cold."

"Hey, he's giving me a couple thousand dollars just to drive his car back."

"Danielle, remember the last time you got involved in one of his deals?" Martha asked.

"Two thousand dollars is two thousand dollars," added Jed.

"Oh, shut up, you old fool! Money is not the only issue here."

"Nothing happened, so stop criticizing me," said Danielle.

"Last time Gus had a briefcase with a half a million in cash in it, in a car that you delivered for him," Martha said.

"She's so dumb," added Heather.

Danielle noticed John leaning up against the railing of the porch. "John, you've never been to Arizona. Want to go?"

"Oh God, Mother, don't get him involved in one of your schemes," pleaded Heather. "He could get thrown in jail."

"Well, thank you, daughter of mine!" yelled Danielle. "What about me? What if I get thrown in jail? You don't care?"

"Hey, you're the one that's falling for Gus's bullshit, and you know the score. But John's so innocent. They put him in jail, and he'll end up some guy's butt buddy."

"Don't talk like that!" shouted Danielle.

"Where do you learn this stuff?" added Martha, disgusted.

"Well, it's true!" said Heather.

"Stop being so dramatic!" said Danielle. "Well, John, what about it? Want to go on a little road trip? It'll be fun. Gus is sending a plane for us."

"A plane?" John sounded uncertain.

"Yes, an airplane, the things that travel through the air? You must fly all the time if you travel as much as Camper says you do."

"Oh, yes, I traveled quite a distance to get here, but . . ."

"But what?" Danielle started walking out again. "You coming, or are you chicken?"

John looked worried but started after her.

"Been nice knowing you, John!" Martha shouted.

Chapter 16

"We are going to have a blast!" said Danielle, getting out of the car. She looked at John. "You don't seem too excited."

"Oh, I'm okay. It's just the pace you run at," he said.

"I'm not about to slow down because I might never get started again," she said, rushing toward a gate.

Behind the gate, many airplanes were parked, and one was taxiing in from the runway.

"Are you sure about this Gus guy?" John asked. "Everybody seemed a little put off that you'd trust him."

"Gus is okay—a little eccentric maybe because he's an anthropologist and spends a lot of time away. Are you worried about the plane ride?"

"A bit . . . maybe . . . Camper said they can fall out of the sky."

"Sometimes. So let's just hope this one doesn't," she said, going into the office.

John stayed outside and watched the airplane taxi toward them.

"Perfect timing," shouted Danielle, running back out the door. "This is our ride! Come on, John, you fuddy duddy. I told you this is going to be a blast." She ran past him as the engine in front lost its power and the propeller slowed, then stopped. The engine in back kept running.

Danielle went toward the machine and John followed.

As Danielle walked under the wing, the door on the side of the plane popped open. The top portion swung completely up, followed by the bottom section swinging down. The bottom section had stairs inside, and Danielle stepped on the bottom one and with two steps was inside the little plane.

John shrugged his shoulders and followed her up the steps. Danielle had taken the front seat, next to the pilot. She sat forward; pulling the seat with her so John could get in the back.

"Grab that strap there," the pilot instructed Danielle after John was seated, "and pull up." With little effort the bottom section of the door rotated up and locked into place. Next she grabbed the handle on the top section and pulled down. It also fell into place with little effort. As soon as the two door handles came together, the noise from the back engine dimmed considerably.

The pilot reached across Danielle and twisted the top handle, locking the doors in place. He turned to the controls in front of him and flipped a switch, which caused the front propeller to start spinning again. It spun faster, and with a muffled cough, the engine caught. A small puff of smoke rushed past the bottom of the compartment, where John was looking at the ground.

"I'm Jake. We should be getting into Phoenix in a little less than an hour," the pilot said. "Buckle up, please."

"Hi, I'm Danielle, and this is Space John," Danielle pointed back to John.

"Space John?" asked the pilot.

"Yeah, he's not from around here."

"Oh," he said, pushing two levers forward. The engines revved up and the plane started to move. The pilot talked to someone on his radio as the plane gained speed and headed out from the buildings toward a large open area.

The pilot braked and turned onto a long, straight stretch of concrete. He slowed the plane a little more and pushed the two levers forward. There was an immediate sound of power as both engines revved up and the propeller in front became a blur.

The little plane shook at first, but when the pilot released the brakes and advanced the levers completely, it shot forward with surprising force, pushing John back against his seat. The ground started rushing by as the plane accelerated.

The pilot pulled back on the wheel in front of him, and the nose of the plane lifted slightly. A moment later, there was a slight bump. The pilot pulled the controls back a little more, and the nose lifted into the sky.

John looked out the side window and watched the ground falling rapidly away. The pilot and Danielle were talking, but John stayed quiet, watching the ground get farther and farther away.

Daniel turned around. "Hey, John, Jake wants you to open that compartment right behind you and get the parachutes out now that we're high enough to jump."

"Parachutes?" asked John.

"Yeah, parachutes. You know what they are?"

"Ah," John hesitated, "is there something wrong?"

"No, silly, if something "goes" wrong." Danielle sounded earnest.

John gulped. "Huh?" He listened intently to hear if anything was amiss. "Is something wrong?"

The pilot was shaking his head, laughing. He finally turned to John. "I'm afraid the lady is not very sensitive. There is absolutely nothing wrong, and there aren't any parachutes."

John gulped again. "No parachutes?"

The pilot turned back to the front, still shaking his head and laughing.

*

A half-hour later, the pilot pulled the two levers back, and the plane began to sink slowly, losing altitude as the ground came closer and closer. When they rushed over the concrete, the pilot pulled the levers all the way back and moved the control wheel back and forward in tiny movements. John watched the concrete come up to meet them, and with a slight bump, they were back down.

*

"Is that the car Gus wants me to drive?" Danielle asked the pilot excitedly as they taxied up to a low, wide, silver sports car. Tall, chunky Gus stood next to it.

"That's the one," said the pilot.

*

"Why the heck do you want me to drive that?" Danielle asked, walking up to Gus.

"Man, you get prettier every day," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, what's the catch, Gus?"

He shook his head. "Can't take a compliment, as usual."

"Your compliments can get complicated," she said. Her previous excitement had turned into caution.

John seemed impressed by her response.

"I just bought it, but the seat and pedals need to be repositioned at the factory in L.A.," Gus explained. "The guy I bought it from is about your size. There is no way I can drive it until it's readjusted. I figured you'd have a good time taking it back to L.A. for me."

"There's nothing illegal in there?" Danielle asked, pointing to the car.

"I told you I'd never do that to you again," replied Gus. "How are the Walnuts?"

"Why don't you stop out there and see for yourself? They're a little ruffled at you for never calling."

"I've been really busy."

"What kind of car is this?" asked Danielle. "It looks like Bruce Almighty's car."

"All right, Danielle!" Gus grinned. "It is very similar, kind of a knock off."

"Oh, man," Danielle said, "this is going to be fun. How come the guy that sold it didn't want this fantastic car?" She sounded suspicious.

"He never figured out how to drive it," Gus said, shaking his head. "It's got a really sensitive clutch and over eight hundred horsepower. It is not a car for the fainthearted."

"Oh, wow! This is going to be so great." She looked at John. "Oh, geez, I'm sorry, Gus. This is John. He's doing a story on the Walnuts."

"What kind of story?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replied. "Ask him."

Gus looked to John but didn't say anything.

"My readers will be thrilled to read about the Walnuts. They are an unusual bunch," John offered.

"Can't argue with you there," replied Gus. "Danielle, I had Jake make you a map to get out of here and to the highway, then a route to follow to L.A., then to the factory in Huntington Beach. I'll be right behind you." Gus turned to John. "Don't look so frightened, John, because Danielle here"—Gus put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed—"can handle most anything. You don't think I'd let just anyone drive this," he said, patting the top of the car.

*

John and Danielle could only get into the car by putting their legs in first, holding themselves up using the doors and seats, and then sliding their rears into the seats, which left them almost lying down.

Danielle fit perfectly like Gus had figured. The steering wheel and pedals were just right for her. She gripped the wheel and followed Gus's instructions while he stooped beside the car. There was a red button on the dash next to the steering column. After flipping a couple of switches, as instructed, Danielle pushed the button. The engine, which was right behind them, started to spin over and suddenly caught with a tremendous roar.

Gus reached over and started to close the door. "Try not to get too many tickets," he said just before the door came down and closed with a thunk.

Danielle put the car in first gear and carefully let the clutch out. The clutch grabbed and the car lurched and stalled.

"Damn! No kidding, touchy clutch," she said.

Danielle put the clutch back in and hit the red button again. The engine roared back to life immediately. This time she gave it more gas, but again the clutch caught her unaware. This time the car lurched forward with a chirp of the tires before stalling again.

"Screw this!" she yelled, starting the engine again. This time she gave the throttle a good rap and let the clutch fly. The car launched with a howl—tires burning, smoke pouring out—and accelerated much faster than the plane had. Danielle shifted it into second, and they were on their way.

John looked back at Gus, who was standing with his fist raised high in triumph.

It took Danielle a couple more times to figure out the touchy clutch. There was one more tire-burning start and then another stall, but by the time they had left the airport, she had it down.

There was a constant barrage of honking horns and waving people as Danielle made her way. Men who realized the car of their dreams was being driven by a beautiful woman responded with unmatched enthusiasm. Danielle had many offers to pull over, and by the time they got to the highway, she was driving the car like she owned it.

John was amazed by the machine's raw power. When they left the city, Danielle put the pedal to the metal, and he got his first real taste of a race car. Danielle dropped it down four gears and opened it up from forty miles an hour. John was slammed back against his seat, and within seconds—going back up through three gears—the car was traveling at 160.

"Yah hoo!" Danielle shouted above the roar of the engine and the air rushing past. "What'cha think?"

Everything along the highway was a blur. Cars traveling at the normal pace were gobbled up like they were standing still and passed in seconds.

"Can we get in trouble for this?" he yelled back.

"Hell yes, big trouble!" she shouted. "But don't you think it's worth it?"

"This is something different, all right."

Danielle stayed on the throttle for about a quarter mile, reaching 175, and then backed off. The speed rapidly fell until they were doing eighty.

"Boy, it sure seems slow now, doesn't it?" said John.

"Yeah, it's going to be a long trip piddling along like this," she agreed. "Hey, you still see Gus back there?"

"No, he seems to have been left behind. This car is extremely fast."

"Hell, that was nothing," said Danielle. "I only got to fifth gear and five thousand rpm's. This thing has another gear, and according to the tach, two thousand more rpm's. I figure at least over two hundred with no trouble."

"We aren't going to try that, are we?" John sounded worried.

Danielle smiled at him. "God you are such a chicken," she said, squirming in the seat to get more comfortable.

*

Fifteen minutes later Danielle said, "Uh oh!" looking in the rearview mirror. "We got us some fuzz coming up fast."

John looked in his mirror. Red and blue lights flashed on top of a police car that was gaining on them rapidly.

"I guess we didn't go unnoticed," Danielle said, keeping her speed at just under eighty.

The police came right up behind them and indicated for them to pull over. "Let me do the talking. I know how to handle the cops," Danielle suggested.

"Uh, oh yeah, of course."

The officer got out of his car and stood tall. First, he put on his Smoky Bear hat and adjusted it. Then he adjusted his gun, his sunglasses, and finally his shirt and tie.

"Oh, goody," Danielle snickered, "we got us a prima donna. Look at him preening himself. It's a good thing you're not driving."

Finally, the officer took his clipboard out of the car and strutted toward them.

"Because he could never in his wildest dreams have a car like this, he's going to make us pay for his own inadequacies," Danielle said, unlatching the side window and swinging it up. The officer walked up and stood beside the open window, his thighs being the only thing visible from the low-slung car.

"Step out of the car, sir," he commanded.

Danielle popped the door latch and the door swung up and out. She moved her rear out with the door, pulling her body up with her hands.

"Oh, excuse me, ma'am," the officer stammered, realizing the driver wasn't a man but a beautiful woman wearing a short, low-cut dress that didn't hide much from his view. Danielle struggled a bit, getting only halfway out, and the dumbstruck officer immediately reached out to help.

"Why thank you, officer," she said in her silkiest voice. "This damn car wasn't made for creature comforts."

"Ah—" he started.

Danielle stood up and smoothed her dress, which caused the material on the top to go tight.

The officer gulped. "We got a report from some truckers that a car matching this description was traveling at an extremely high and dangerous speed."

"No kidding?" she responded. "People do tend to drive too fast nowadays."

The officer looked at her perplexed. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I think it might have been you."

"Me? Are you kidding? I'm scared of this car. I don't even go over eighty." She turned back to the car and bent over to ask John. "John, how fast were we going?"

"I'm not sure, but just fast enough to stay ahead of that truck—the one with the disgusting men," he replied.

"What truck would that be?" asked the officer, bending over to look at John.

"The one that was trying to get her to pull over," replied John. "We just stayed ahead of that one because they were making crude gestures."

"I see," said the officer. He seemed to be contemplating something.

"Would you like to see my license, officer?" Danielle asked. She reached into the car, bending and stretching.

John, in turn, leaned forward enough to catch the officer studying Danielle's long legs and behind. John shot him a curious look. The officer's face turned red as his eyes went elsewhere.

"Ah, that won't be necessary, ma'am." The officer gulped. "I'm sorry to have bothered you. You both have a nice day now." He turned quickly, almost fleeing to his car.

Danielle backed out of the car and stood watching him.

Seeming to be in a sudden hurry, the officer floored his car, swung it out and around Danielle and John, and roared down the highway.

Danielle stretched her back. "That was too easy." She bent down to look at John with a smile. "Brilliant thinking, John. Those nasty truckers made me do it. We make quite a team!"

*

"How the heck are we supposed to put gas in this thing?" Danielle was exasperated. She stood next to the car with her hands on her hips. They had pulled up to a gas pump at a busy, full-service truck stop. "I can't find the gas cap, and we aren't going much farther without more fuel. That damn Gus, he could have stayed with us," she complained.

"Can his car go one-seventy?"

Danielle gave John a snotty look. "Probably not, but we've been driving under eighty for quite a while. He should have caught up."

"I think he gave you a map because he didn't intend to be here to guide you."

"Oh, you think?"

The sight of Danielle and the fast car had drawn a small crowd.

"Hey, little lady, looks like you're in need of a real man's assistance," a confident trucker crowed, strutting up to her. He ran his hand over the top of the car. "Nice set of wheels." The trucker grinned, looking at Danielle's legs. "And I'm not talking metal here."

"Not interested, Jim Bob," Danielle responded.

The trucker pushed his cowboy hat back from his forehead. "Hey, now that's no way to talk to the man that's going to solve all your problems."

"Look, Joe Bob, I'm not interested in your type," she snarled. "Couldn't get the smell off you, no matter how hard I scrubbed."

"Now, darlin, I may not be perfumey scented like your pussy friend there,"—he flipped a thumb in John's direction—"but I can do some amazing things with my hands." The trucker beamed with satisfaction from his own comment.

"Picking one's nose doesn't do it for me, Billy Bob, now buzz off."

She turned away from the trucker. There was some laughter from the crowd that had formed.

"Look, honey, a man comes and offers his help, and a smart woman accepts." The trucker sounded angry. "I don't know how they run it wherever your pretty little ass is from, but out here in a man's world, it is the way things are done."

"Look, Ray Bob." Danielle was not in a good mood. Using a dumb, country accent, she said, "I'm driving this here car to L.A. for a friend, and I can't find the gas filler thingy. You look like the type that's good at locating orifices. Maybe you can help after all."

"Now, that's more like it. Of course Big Stan can help." Thrusting his hips out slightly, the trucker looked pleased with himself. "Now, you just let Big Stan find that nasty, old filler cap, and then we'll move on to more important things."

Big Stan strutted to the back of the car with confidence while his eyes scanned the surface of the car for anything that might look promising. He got to the back and bent down, looking over at Danielle with a confident grin. He grabbed the rear license plate and gave it a tug. It didn't budge, so he pulled harder, bending the frame. Big Stan looked quickly at Danielle, who now had an angry look on her face.

"Well, Big Stan!" she yelled, thrusting her hips out. "Good job! Now get the hell away from my car!"

"Dumb-ass foreign shit," Big Stan said, straightening up, "doesn't make any sense."

"It was designed and built in L.A., you moron," snarled Danielle.

"Yeah, well, it's still a little hard to figure." Stan was scratching his head when a little girl walked up and tugged at his sleeve.

"Sir, maybe I can help," she offered.

"Beat it, kid."

Stan pulled his shirt sleeve out of her grasp without even looking at her.

"If you'd just give me the chance, I—," the little girl told Big Stan, but his attention was on Danielle, who was kneeling down to inspect the bent license plate frame.

The little girl tried again. "But I know how."

"I said scram!" he shouted.

"That wasn't nice," said a woman that had been observing.

"Look, you people leave the lady and me alone, and let Big Stan figure this out!" He approached Danielle again but didn't thrust his hips as much this time.

"But, mister!" shouted the little girl. "My brother got one of these for Christmas." She pointed to the car.

"Oh, sure," scoffed Big Stan. "You expect anyone to believe that he has a car like this?"

"No, silly," she said with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. "He's only twelve, so he certainly can't drive yet. It's a model."

"A model?" Big Stan laughed at the girl. "I told you to beat it!"

The girl turned to John and said, "It's one of those really expensive ones that have everything, including the gas filler."

"Ah, Danielle," said John, walking over to her, "I think this young lady here has the answer."

"Look, I said beat it!" Big Stan yelled. "That kid don't know shit!"

"It's right here,"—the little girl pointed—"just in front of this tire."

Everyone looked to where she was pointing.

Big Stan was losing his cool. "There ain't a damn thing there. Now, for the last time, get lost!"

"No, in the engine compartment," the girl said, reaching into the driver's side of the car. She grabbed at something and there was a click. The top of the entire rear section of the automobile popped up six inches. The little girl grabbed the bottom edge of the body section and pushed up. The entire top of the rear body, from just behind the passenger compartment, swung open. It was hinged at the back of the car and exposed the engine, transmission, and a lot of other mechanics.

"There," she pointed, "is the gas tank filler."

"Well, I'll be!" exclaimed Big Stan.

The little girl walked up to him. "See, I told you!"

"Look, squirt, I'd thank you for the help, but I've got business to attend to." He turned his attention back to Danielle. "Hey, pretty lady, now that that's taken care of, how about you and I getting down to some serious business?"

The little girl shifted around to face Big Stan again. "She would never be interested in you. You're too dumb."

"Why you—"

Big Stan reached to grab the little girl, but John grabbed his hand in a flash, twisted it sharply, and drove him to his knees. John had a hold of one of Stan's fingers and his thumb. He twisted the man's arm behind his back, and Big Stan shrieked in pain. John bent down and put his mouth next to the man's ear and whispered something.

Big Stan nodded vigorously.

John straightened up and released him, but Big Stan remained on his knees, massaging his hand.

*

Danielle checked her cell phone while the gas was pumping in. "I wonder who this is?"

John was watching Big Stan heading off toward his big rig.

"Somebody has called like fifteen times from this same number," she continued. "I don't recognize it."

"It's probably the pool guy," John surmised. "Doesn't he call that many times a day?"

"Yeah, but it's not his number."

"Well, call them back."

"What for?"

John shrugged. "That way you'll know who it is."

"No shit, Sherlock! But way the hell out here, it gets expensive. And it's probably something I don't want to deal with anyway."

"Then don't call," he said, shrugging again.

"Then how am I going to find out who it is?" Danielle said, giving John a serious look. She put the phone to her ear.

"Hello, who is this? . . . Hello, who am I speaking to?"

She looked at John. "Some Spanish guy."

She spoke back into the phone, "I can't understand you. I don't speak Spanish. . . . Señorita Godiva? What the hell are you talking about? 'English,' is there anyone there that speaks English?"

Danielle turned to John. "I think I scared him away." Danielle took the phone from her ear and was about to cut the call before a faint voice on the phone caught her attention. She put it back to her ear.

"Hello, who am I talking to?" . . .

"Mother? What the heck are you doing?" . . .

"You're where?" . . .

"Who was the old Spanish guy?" . . .

"Right, you're in Blythe." . . .

"You're in Blythe? What the heck are you doing there?" . . .

"Put Dad on." . . .

"What do you mean he's not there?" . . .

"Mother, you haven't driven a car in fifteen years!"

Danielle held the phone away from her ear for a moment and rolled her eyes at John.

"I'm with John, and we're bringing Gus's car back for him. You should see this thing. Man, what a car!" . . .

"I know you don't care about cars." . . .

"You and Dad had a fight and you're headed to Percy?" . . .

"No, Mother, just go home." . . .

"What do you mean you can't?" . . .

"Well, what do you expect me to do? I've got to go to L.A. Gus will be waiting." . . .

"I'm on the highway between Phoenix and L.A." . . .

"Yes, it goes through Blythe, but I don't know how I can help you." . . .

"You took off without any money? Well, use the plastic; you've got enough of that." . . .

"You can't get out of the truck? Mother, you're not making any sense." . . .

"Okay, okay, this is your lucky day. I think John and I are like an hour from you. We'll get back on the highway and come get you."

Danielle climbed back into the car and turned to John. "Mother has got herself in some sort of pickle. She and Dad must have had a doozy."

*

"Okay, Mother, I'm coming into Blythe. Give me instructions." . . .

"I know you don't know your way around Blythe." . . .

"Mother, let's make this as painless as possible." . . .

"I don't know, do you see any signs?" . . .

"Yes, signs, the things that stick way up in the air and are used to advertise." . . .

"Hey, I can get smart if I want to! Like, who's getting rescued? And by whom?" . . .

Okay, McDonald's, yep, there's a big old McDonald's sign coming up on my right. Boy are you lucky."

Danielle slowed down and drove onto the off-ramp.

*

"Okay, I'm coming into the McDonald's parking lot." . . .

"What do you mean you're not there? You said McDonald's!" . . .

"Oh, you can see the sign." . . .

"Mother, I swear, you give me any more crap and I'm back on the highway, and." . . .

"That's better." . . .

"You've got to be close. Ah, see any more signs?" . . .

"Let me look."

Danielle leaned slightly John's way. "John, look for a country store, a little market or something. It's got to be close by. She says there's a bunch of big trees."

"The only big trees I see are back over there," he said, pointing over his shoulder.

Danielle slowed and looked for a spot to turn around.

"She's always pulling some stunt like this, and she gives us kids crap for being irresponsible." Danielle was laughing while explaining.

"Okay, there's the big trees coming up, there's a country store . . . and there's Dad's pickup," she said, pulling off the road and driving through a gravel parking lot toward the pickup, which was parked in the shade right next to a pay phone.

There were four old Mexicans sitting at a dilapidated picnic table under the tree closest to the truck. Two of the gentleman jumped up quickly at the sight of Gus's car. One of the men stepped out in front of the car and put his hand up, before they got to the truck.

"No te acerque más," he declared.

"Get out of my way, you old fool," Danielle shouted through the window. "What the hell is this?"

The old man wouldn't budge. He wasn't going to let them drive up to the pickup.

"Damn it!" shouted Danielle. "What's wrong with her? Why doesn't she get out of the truck?"

Danielle and John popped the doors and started to drag themselves out.

As soon as Danielle stood up, her mother started yelling from the truck. She was yelling at the old Mexican in broken Spanish. He stood transfixed by the strange-looking car, gazing at it as Danielle and John walked toward the truck.

"Sí, Señorita Godiva," the old man said, pointing at the pickup, now confident that help had finally arrived for the woman in the truck.

"Tell John to stand where he is," Martha commanded from inside the pickup.

"Mother, don't be getting pushy. You should be thankful that we were so close. And what's this "Godiva" crap the old guy is blathering about?" Danielle said, walking up to the open window and looking in. "Where the hell are all your clothes?" she shouted.

"There wasn't time," Martha huffed.

"You ran out of the house, jumped in the truck, and drove to Blythe naked? God, Mother, and you claim us kids do—"

"Just shut up! I'm not about to go into a long explanation. Just go get me some clothes and—for God's sake—something to drink. I spent all my cash keeping those old fools in beer." Martha indicated the old men. At least four twelve-packs of empty cans lay on and around the table.

"Looks like you had to buy your friends today," Danielle snickered. "Why didn't you just go home?"

"The goddamn truck is almost out of gas! The old fool never keeps it full like I tell him to."

"He probably figures he won't have to drive so far when you pull one of these stunts." Danielle laughed.

"Are you going to get me some clothes, or are you going to sit there and pick?"

"Why didn't you just fill the damn truck up and go home? You've got credit cards."

"I can't get out of the truck like this!"

"Yeah, I can see how that might cause some problems. But there's always women going back-and-forth at gas stations."

"I'm not going home like this."

"Ah, so now we get to the plot. You don't want Dad to know how bad you screwed up. How the hell did this get started in the first place? You never walk around the house without clothes, and especially not with guests there."

"That goddamn Chucky and his Head-for-Jed-Club," Martha sputtered. "I had a little too much to drink and got into the hot tub with Nut Head."

"What happened then? It's a long way from the Rancho de Los Retardos hot tub to this place."

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Poor Dad, he must be worried."

"To hell with him! This is all his fault in the first place."

"Yeah, well, taking off in the middle of the night isn't such a great thing to do either."

"I should have bit it off," said Martha, an angry look on her face.

"Yes, this does look like the lesser of two evils," agreed Danielle. "Okay, how are we going to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I guess the best thing would be to leave John here with the car, and you and I go off and get you back to normal," she said, getting into the pickup.

*

"I suppose you'll really get your mileage out of this one," Martha said, getting dressed. They had gotten clothes, filled the truck up with gas, and were heading back to the lot.

"No, Mother, I'm not going to say a thing. This is one stunt that I won't cash in on. I hope you realize how lucky you are that John and I happened to be right down the highway."

"I would have figured something out. I didn't need you," said Martha.

"Mother, you're also lucky that you stumbled onto a bunch of old guys that were more interested in wetting their whistles than their peckers. A couple of young bucks found you like that and it might not have been something we can all laugh at," Danielle said, turning into the lot, where John was talking with the Mexicans.

"I know that. And don't think the senior citizens there"—Martha pointed to the old Mexicans still at the picnic table—"didn't throw a proposition or two my way."

Danielle laughed. "I'm not surprised. Here they are, stuck in Bum Fuck, Nowhere, and a woman drives up with no clothes on and beer money. How long have they been watching out for you?"

"They were just biding their time, waiting for an opportunity."

"Mother, not one of those old farts could ever get it up, even if they wanted to. Well, what do you want to do now?" Danielle asked, parking next to the picnic table.

"What the hell is he talking to those old reprobates about?" sneered Martha. "They don't know any English."

"I don't know. Maybe he knows some Spanish."

"Bah, I don't trust that guy. He's up to something."

"Whatever, Mother. Let's just get this show on the road. I've wasted enough time, and we have to be back in L.A. by five thirty. What do you want to do?"

"I'm going to drive myself back home."

"Mother, you don't have a driver's license."

"I got here. I'll get back."

"So it'll look like you just went for a little drive to think things over?"

Martha didn't respond.

"Mother, Dad's going to realize that you're coming home with new clothes."

"If that old fool knows what's good for him, he'll keep his mouth shut!"

"He's not going to say anything. He'll just be glad to get you back without a major project and a wad of cash," Danielle said, getting out.

"John, get the hell over here!" Martha yelled out the window.

John left the men and walked over to the truck.

"If you speak of this to anyone, you'll be sorry. What were you talking to those old fools about?"

"Oh, they're sorry to see you go but glad you got rescued."

"I was not rescued! I was in complete control! You got any cash?" she asked Danielle, opening the door to the truck and getting out.

"Some, what do you need cash for?"

"Just give me your cash. I'll get it back to you."

"I've only got about a hundred," she said, reaching into her purse.

Martha took the money from Danielle and headed over to the table where the old men were drinking the last of the beer.

"You sons-a-bitches find work!" she yelled at them and slammed the money down on the table. She got back in the truck, pulled the door shut, and started it.

"I'm going home, so you two can get on with your thing." She looked over at the car. "Is that the stupid car Gus gave you to drive?"

"No," replied Danielle, "I traded in my ten-thousand-dollar pile of junk and got this."

"Always the smart mouth," Martha said, closing the window and putting the truck in gear. She headed out to the street as the old men blew her kisses.

"Are you going to remind her of this from time to time?" asked John.

"Nah, that wouldn't be nice," said Danielle, chuckling. "Besides, the next time she's getting in my face, I'll just mention "Blythe" and it'll change the conversation—quick. This one I'm banking."

*

"We have got to make up some time," said Danielle, back on the highway. "If we don't get this car back in time, I don't know what we're going to do if they're closed."

"We could get a place and wait for morning," suggested John.

"I don't have any money left. Besides, I'm not spending the night in a motel with you." Danielle was angry. "I thought we were friends. Now you're going to pull this on me?"

"I was only trying to—"

"No, John, you were being a man. And men can't resist taking advantage of a situation!"

"I'm sorry if you thought I was taking advantage."

"You're always apologizing. Stand up and be a man, John!"

"Didn't you say that men always take advantage of the situation?"

"Oh, shut the hell up and watch the road!"

*

Danielle and John sat against a small sand shelf formed by the high tide. They were looking out over the beach, watching the surf roll in. They had delivered the car successfully and the adventure was over. John was sitting with his legs stretched out. Danielle was next to him with her legs pulled up and her arms wrapped around her knees.

"Did you have a good time?" Danielle asked with a sigh, watching a dog approach them along the waterline.

"I had a wonderful time," he said, "but you seem melancholy. What's the problem?"

"I had too good of a time." She sighed again. "I hated turning that car in." She turned to him. "What's wrong with me?"

"You're talking about a fairly broad subject here. I'm not sure I really understand," John confessed.

"My daughter hates me. My boyfriend is a little boy in men's clothing "and" a lunatic, as usual. My entire family is dysfunctional. And I had the time of my life driving a car that should be illegal. What is wrong with me? Why aren't I normal?"

"Do you know any normal people?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Would you like to be them? To be satisfied by the same things they are?"

"Borrring!"

Danielle whistled, trying to get the attention of the dog that had stopped twenty feet away and was watching her, wagging its tail.

"There you go, you're happy where you are," John concluded.

"But I still think there is something wrong with me."

Danielle whistled again and stuck her hand out, trying to coax the dog to come closer, but it sat down.

"You're judging yourself by other people's opinions."

"Think so?" she asked.

"I know so," he declared.

"I just want exciting, different things all the time. I want to find someone who lives for life, not for the things in it," said Danielle, her voice cracking slightly. "Like now, I want something special to happen right now!"

The dog suddenly got to its feet and walked right up to Danielle. It lifted its leg and peed all over her shoe.

"What the hell!" she shouted, kicking at the dog, which calmly walked away. "Son of a bitch! Did you see that?" Danielle said, jumping to her feet and shaking the wet shoe.

"That was exciting and different," John said a mischievous smile on his face.

*

Danielle and John were getting into the limo Gus had called to take them back home.

"You came through for me again," Gus told Danielle, handing her a roll of bills. "You're still looking like a million bucks, and I won't wait as long to call this time." He turned to John. "It was a pleasure to meet you, John. You seem like a decent fellow,"—Gus reached out and shook his hand—"which means Danielle will never be interested in you."

Danielle didn't seem to notice the comment.

Chapter 17

Danielle and John went to her place after the road trip. Some friends of Danielle's, Bonnie and her daughter were visiting. With prodding and promises to John that marijuana was nothing like alcohol, they smoked a little pot and had the giggles. Heather was there as well, giving John a displeased look for smoking the evil weed.

Paul, Danielle's old roommate, knocked on the door, which was open except for the screen.

"What the hell do you want?" yelled Danielle through the screen. "I thought I got rid of you for good!"

"I've been away, doing something important," Paul said seriously, opening the screen and inviting himself in. "I still want to live here."

"Forget it. You've screwed me around enough, and no way you're getting back in our lives," Danielle informed him. "We've already settled this."

"I've been at a school for three weeks and—"

"Get serious, you're too dumb to learn anything," Heather said as Paul walked into the living room.

Danielle shook her head as Paul looked at John with an unmistakable death-ray glare.

"I want you to go now, Paul! I don't want you here." Danielle was serious.

"I need something to eat. I'm hungry," said Paul, headed into the kitchen.

"Whatever! Just don't take too long. And I told you, you can't stay here!"

"Do you believe this crap?" Danielle asked everyone as Paul banged around in the kitchen, making as much noise as possible to disturb them.

"This is the Paul guy you told me about?" asked Bonnie, chuckling.

"Yeah, real impressive, huh?" said Danielle.

"Geez, Danielle, he must really have a big one," added Bonnie.

"You guys are disgusting," said Heather. She was the only one not laughing.

Danielle giggled. She had a smirk on her face. "It wasn't big enough to compensate for his other shortcomings. That's why I sent him packing."

"You're sick, Mother!"

Everyone laughed even harder.

Paul came out of the kitchen wearing an apron, pushing the vacuum onto the rug.

"Paauuuull," Danielle bleated like a sheep, "what do you think you're doing?" She had an incredulous look on her face. "I told you to leave."

"I'm going to vacuum. I'm going to show you all that I'm okay."

Danielle laughed. "What? You're not okay. You're out of your freakin' mind. We all know that."

"I am not. I'm okay, see? I'm vacuuming."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Danielle said with her hands on her hips, trying to be serious but smiling and shaking her head. "You are certifiably nuts, and this proves it."

John was laughing, lying on the couch and holding his side. Everyone else was looking at Paul, also laughing, though not sure what was really happening.

"Who is this guy?" Paul asked, giving John the glare again. "You'd better be careful. You don't know where I was," he told John.

John's laughing subsided somewhat, but his face showed no reaction to Paul's attempt at intimidation.

"Oh, okay, Paul, where were you?" asked Danielle, still laughing.

"I told you, I went to school." Paul turned to Danielle with a sweet smile.

"What school?" Danielle had stopped laughing and tried to be serious.

"I learned how to break arms and legs," Paul said, looking quickly at John, again with his death glare.

"In just three weeks?" said Danielle, annoyed. "You need some professional help, Paul. You're flipping out."

"I'm serious. I can break his leg if I really wanted to," he told Danielle with a benevolent look. He looked quickly at John, immediately returning to his threatening, hostile look.

"You leave him alone, Paul!" screamed Heather. "He's our friend, and you've got to leave!"

"I can break his legs if I want to," Paul said with a menacing tone. "They taught me how."

"Oh, come on, Paul," said Danielle, "you can't be serious. And don't start anything with John. You'll be sorry."

Paul looked at John with the death glare, trying to intimidate him, but John just laughed.

"Paul, get out," said Danielle. "Nobody is taking you serious, and if you wreck anything in my house, I'm going to be really pissed and I'll bust your ass."

"I am going to break both his arms and legs!" Paul shouted. He crouched into a karate stance, directing his most powerful death-ray glare at John.

"Okay, Paul, settle down," John said, getting up from the couch and going for the door. John opened it and hurried outside. "Danielle said she didn't want any damage to the house." Paul followed with a silly karate walk, his hands held rigid and the murderous look still on his face, but still wearing the apron.

Outside, John was backing up as Paul advanced.

"Come on, Paul, you're just making your case worse," John said as Heather came out the door behind Paul with an iron skillet in her hands. Heather wound up like she was going to hit a home run. She targeted the back of Paul's head. "I'll fuckin kill you, you asshole!" she screamed.

John quickly jumped at Paul, trying to get him out of the way of the heavy skillet that was about to be unleashed on his head. John's rush scared Paul and he threw his hands up to protect himself.

"Hold it!" John shouted at Heather, throwing Paul aside like he was a stick man. "Don't hit him with that, you'll really hurt him."

"I don't care; I want him out of here!" Heather snarled menacingly, moving in on Paul, who was fumbling for his balance.

Now Heather had the skillet above her head, still solidly in both hands, still drawing a bead on Paul, who was no longer threatening anyone. He was backing up, terrified of Heather.

"Come on, Paul, leave before somebody gets hurt," said John, stepping between Paul and Heather. "If you promise to leave right now, I'll make sure that Heather doesn't kabong you. How about it?"

"I don't have to!" Paul starts stomping his feet on the ground, having a tantrum. "They can't kick me out. I still live here." Paul took off running back into the house. "I'm staying!" he declared, dashing through the open door.

"Oh, damn!" yelled Danielle.

She ran after Paul, followed by John and Heather.

The others were still in the living room with surprised looks on their faces.

"Where'd he go?" asked Danielle.

"Back in the hall," said Bonnie.

"Oooh, shiiit!" Danielle rushed down the hall and started screaming. "You get the fuck out of there, Paul, or I'm calling the cops right now! I want you out of my bed, now!"

Everyone rushed down the hall into her bedroom.

Paul had gotten into her bed with all his clothes on, including his cowboy boots, and had pulled the covers neatly up under his chin. The outline of his body and his boots were sticking smartly up under the bedspread.

Everyone laughed when they walked into the room. Danielle grabbed the phone and called the police.

*

Nothing could budge Paul while they waited for the police. He wouldn't say anything. He just stared straight up with a stupid, blank look on his face. The covers were pulled up to his chin. Only his fingers show on each side of his face. Danielle continued to berate him, and everyone continued laughing, except for Heather, who stood in the hall, still itching to use the skillet.

"Whatever you do," John told Bonnie, who was stationed at the bedroom door, tears streaming down her face from laughing, "don't let her in that room." John indicated Heather. "I'm afraid she'll really hurt him."

*

The police arrived and one officer went into the bedroom with Danielle following, explaining the situation. The other officer stayed out in the hall with Heather, who was still clutching the skillet.

"Mr. Dinglehoff, you have to get out of her bed," said the officer in the bedroom.

"I live here," Paul whined, "and it's not Dinglehoff. They're just making fun of me."

"I can't imagine how that could happen, considering the way you're behaving," said the officer, getting angry. "Mr. Dinglehoff, she doesn't want you in her bed. You have to get out."

"I'm tired and I have to go to sleep. And I told you, that's not my name."

"I'm not going to go through this again. Get out of her bed, now!" he ordered.

"But she should adore me," said Paul.

Danielle laughed, bleating again. "Paauuuull, the only adoration you've ever experienced was from the poor little sheep on that farm where you grew up."

"I'll get him up!" Heather yelled from the hall. The other officer laughed, keeping her out of the bedroom.

"Sir, I'm losing my patience," said the officer in the bedroom.

"I live here," Paul said calmly.

"I don't care where you live! Is this your bed?"

"Sometimes."

The officer, in the bedroom, turned and asked Danielle, "Has he ever been in this bed before?"

"What the hell has that got to do with anything?" she shouted. "He's in my bed with his boots on, and I want him out!"

"Ma'am, if this is a lover's quarrel—"

Danielle gave the officer an incredulous look. She was shaking her head, not sure of what to do. Suddenly, she got a wicked smile on her face. "That's it!" shouted Danielle. "I tried to be decent, but now I'm getting "the book"!" She stomped out of the room.

"Damn, why didn't I think of that?" Heather said as her mother rushed by her in the hall, heading for the bookcase in the den.

Heather stepped out from the wall and poked her head around the officer guarding her. She shouted into the bedroom, "Hey, Paul! Boy, you're screwed now! Mother's getting "the book"."

"She promised she would throw it away," whined Paul, frightened.

"What book? What's she talking about?" asked the officer in the hall.

Paul pulled the covers up even tighter. "Don't let her hurt me with that book. It's evil."

"Oh no!" Heather exclaimed. "Not, "the book". Mother, you can't." She winked at the officer next to her. "Don't be so cruel."

Danielle returned, pushing past the officer in the hall and into the bedroom. She held a medium-sized black book out in front of her and pointed it at Paul. "You asked for it, motherfucker!" she said, advancing on Paul.

"Don't touch me with that!" he screamed.

In one almost-continuous movement, he got up from under the covers, scrambled over the bed—away from Danielle—and backed into the far corner of the bedroom. His face was white.

"What the—?" exclaimed the officer in the room.

"I warned you, Paul," Danielle said venomously, coming around the bed with the black book out in front of her.

"Help me!" pleaded Paul, looking at the officer for help. "This is murder!"

"Murder, what the hell is going on here?" the officer in the hall said, stepping into the bedroom and reaching for his gun. The other officer winked at him and whispered, "I don't know, but just play along."

Paul crouched into the far corner, trying to be paint on the wall and get as far from the book as possible. Danielle stood in front of him with the book—pointed straight at him—steady in her hand.

"Paul!" Danielle yelled with a sinister tone. "I'm serious. If you don't leave right now, I'm going to touch you with it."

"But I want to live here again. I want us to be a family," he said, trembling.

"You've got to be kidding. You ruined that long ago. Now leave!"

Danielle jabbed the book forward, inches from Paul. He shot straight up and, with a terror-filled wail, leaped away from Danielle and scrambled across the bed.

Heather and her guard flattened themselves against the wall to give the fleeing Paul open running room.

Danielle rushed out after Paul. She was determined to use the book now that she realized its true power. Paul's blubbering continued as he burst through the front door and ran down the driveway. He was putting ground between him and "the book" as fast as he could.

"What the hell?" the one officer said, shaking his head and coming out of the bedroom.

"Where can I get one of those?" asked his partner.

"Yeah, that could come in handy. I've got a brother-in-law I wouldn't mind using it on."

"It only works with simple minds," said Heather.

"That would be my brother-in-law," he said.

"What kind of book is that?" asked the other officer.

"It's 'The Egyptian Black Book of the Dead,'" said Danielle, giving it to the officer. "I bought it at a garage sale. It's full of all these incantations. I showed it to Paul, and he got all wigged out. He claimed that if you wanted terrible things to happen to someone, all you have to do is touch them with it. He said one of his evil aunts had this same book. She would use it on people, and great harm would come to them. Some silly incantations that were supposed to call up evil spirits to do your dirty work for you."

"I can't believe a grown man would fall for that sort of thing," said the other officer.

"He's a golf pro, so he's really stupid and superstitious," said Danielle.

"I knew they were prima donnas, but I didn't realize they were crazy like that."

"Oh, sure," said Bonnie, jumping in, "I worked at a golf course for years. I knew one pro that wouldn't touch himself cause he claimed the motion was all wrong and it hurt his putting. I made scads of easy money saving his stroke."

The officers burst out laughing.

"Well, I guess we'd better go see if we can find that looney tune. Sooner or later we're going to get a call about him drooling on something."

*

"Geez, Danielle, that was the craziest one yet. Where did you find him?" Bonnie asked, watching the officers back out of the driveway.

Danielle shrugged. "He was a friend of a friend of a friend, and I didn't realize he was that nuts."

"He got in some car accident," Heather said, "and got all this money, and then got the hots for my mother."

"Oh, hush up, snot."

"Am not!" said Heather. "Needless to say," she continued over her shoulder, leaving the room, "he's now broke and bewildered."

"She doesn't know what she's talking about," said Danielle. "Hey, we've got to get going. Ricky's expecting us." Danielle turned to Bonnie. "Hey, we're supposed to go to Ricky's, want to come?"

"No way, I don't trust that guy one bit," she said.

"Oh, come on, we're going over to his girlfriend's. How bad can it be?" asked Danielle.

"A woman friend of Ricky's? Are you kidding?" Bonnie asked. "The nut job that just ran out of here is closer to a pillar of the community than anything Ricky hangs around with. No, thanks."

"Oh, spoilsport, you're getting old and boring," said Danielle.

Chapter 18

Danielle and John were walking up to a big, expensive looking house.

"This broad is loaded," said Danielle. "Used to be a Hollywood celeb back in her day. Of course the good life's taken its toll, and she ain't what she used to be."

"Hey, Ricky!" she shouted, opening the front door and sticking her head inside.

A moment later Ricky was walking down the hall to meet them.

"Hey, guys, glad you could come over."

"More wacko juice, damn it!" yelled a woman from the back of the house.

"I told you, we're out! You drank it all!" Ricky shouted back.

"Well, damn it, we're on a run then!" shouted the woman.

"Oh no, here we go," said Ricky, exasperated. "Damn I hate it when she gets like this. There's no stopping her."

"Well, we can just go down to the store for you, if you want," offered Danielle.

"Nah, she'll get all crazy if she doesn't get to go."

"Well, we can drive you guys."

"Nah, she'll flip out if she doesn't get to drive. It's only a few blocks."

"Geez, Ricky, she sounds really drunk."

"You can't stop her, not when she's out of vodka. She gets wacko, and I'm supposed to be responsible for her, so I need to watch her."

"Oh, Ricky, not another one. Don't you ever learn your lesson?"

"Hey, this one's got twelve million."

"Dollars?"

"Yeah, she's loaded," Ricky said, rubbing his hands together.

"And how do you figure you're going to get any of that money?" asked Danielle.

"I made a deal with her brother."

"What's he got to do with all this?"

"He's the executor of the estate," he explained. "They won't give her the money unless she straightens up a bit. She's just on an allowance now, but if she can behave herself, and that's where I come in, she gets the whole bundle."

Danielle chuckled. "And you're on your way to get her more vodka? I see they got the right man for the job."

"Nah, nah, I've been getting her on an exercise program, and I'm going to wean her slowly. It'll work, I tell ya."

"Ricky, none of your schemes work. Remember the Countess?"

"I wonder what happened to her? A lovely lady—when she was in her right mind," he added with sincerity.

Danielle snickered. "And how often was that?"

"Hey, you guys are the ones that got her drunk."

"Oh, by the way," said Danielle, "Ross called the ranch looking for you."

"Oh . . . what did he have to say?"

"He's not too happy with you. Apparently that big-shot country club demanded his resignation immediately. No telling what that crazy woman did. Mom was messing with him, playing dumb, and trying to get him to tell her what happened. She wanted the sordid details, but he just got mad and hung up." Danielle stopped for a moment and looked around. "This is a lovely house," she added. "This hers?"

"No, it's a rental, but it's a high-dollar one." Ricky looked around proudly.

"Wacko juice run!" shouted a tall, emaciated woman, rushing into the living room naked.

"Go put some clothes on, for Christ's sake!" shouted Ricky. "We have company!"

"Oh, pish posh! If they don't like the way I dress, they can leave," she said, walking right up to Danielle and John. "Hi, my name's Robin, and you would be?" She was pasty white, her eyes runny red. She was skinny as a rail with unkempt, platinum-blond hair and an unpleasant odor. She held out her hand with a smile on her face.

"Ah, I'm Ricky's sister, Danielle." Danielle looked uncomfortable about the handshake, but went through with it. "And this is our friend, John." She stepped back quickly, leaving John in the forefront.

"John?" the woman said, stepping back a little. "Yes, you're a nice-looking man. You'd do in a pinch." Then suddenly she shouted, excited, "Hey, wacko juice run! I'm 'flyin' and I'm 'buyin!'"

She turned and stumbled over to a table by the door, snatching up her car keys. "We're outta here!" she exclaimed, headed toward the door.

Danielle looked at her brother.

"Goddamn it, put some clothes on, I'm not going through that again," Ricky said, hustling her out of the living room.

"This ought to be good," Danielle whispered to John. "If you're any kind of writer, this should be some book."

"I doubt if anyone is going to believe all this," he said.

*

"She's looking for a dress," Ricky said, shaking his head, "but I can't get her to put any underpants on."

"Well, that's no big deal," said Danielle.

Ricky looked concerned. "Oh, yeah," he stated, "you don't know."

*

Out in the garage was a lovely 1950s Rolls Royce Rubyat, an extremely rare car.

"What a car!" exclaimed Danielle.

"It was her dad's. She calls it Ruby," said Ricky. "I guess that's where all the craziness got started. She was a real daddy's girl, and when he died a few years ago, she just fell apart. According to her family, she was quite the debutante. She was an item in Hollywood and ran with the "in" crowd. Supposedly, she was engaged to some famous actor."

"What happened to the wall?" Danielle asked. There was a giant hole in the wall about the same size as the front of the car. Through the hole she could see a big, beautiful, lacy bed on expensive, white, shag carpeting.

Ricky shrugged. "Had a little accident. I've got someone coming on Monday to fix it."

"Oh, boy, what did the landlord say?" asked Danielle.

"Oh, they don't know. But it'll be all fixed before they find out anyway."

Wacko Woman, in a flowered, knee-length dress, poked her head through the hole. "Are we all good to go?" she shouted, gleefully stepping into the garage.

*

She assigned seats, opening each door to make sure that everyone sat in their proper position. When everyone was seated, she got in, started the powerful engine and sat back with a smile.

"Are we all ready?" she asked again, pulling the gear lever down. "We're off."

Ricky yelled, "Wait!" trying to reach for the shift lever.

Wacko Woman mashed the throttle before Ricky could do anything, and the big car jumped backwards, smashing into the garage door, which was still down. There was a horrible crashing sound as the big car completely ripped the garage door off its mounts, then splintering sounds and a slight bump when the car backed out over the door.

"Ooops! What was that?" said Wacko Woman. She accelerated backwards down the driveway, cramping the wheel when she reached the street. The tires squawked. She slammed the gear lever down into forward without stopping. The car groaned with displeasure as she slammed the throttle down again. With a screech of the tires, they careened down the street.

Wacko Woman shouted back to her passengers, "Wacko juice runs are a blast!"

"Ricky, you really shouldn't let her drive!" exclaimed Danielle from the back seat, sounding frightened.

"Oh, pish posh!" yelled Wacko Woman. "I just got Ruby out of the shop this morning, and we need to spend some time together."

*

"Ooh, the cutie-pie is working," cooed Wacko Woman from the parking lot as they headed for the market. "He's so in love with me. Of course, all the men are."

"Aren't you afraid she's going to get in trouble the way she drives?" Danielle asked Ricky, following her inside.

Wacko Woman blew through the door and headed for the liquor section, leaving Ricky, Danielle, and John standing near the checkout aisle.

"Getting in trouble doesn't bother her," Ricky replied.

"Yeah, but if the cops get her for driving drunk, she'll really be in a world of hurt."

"She's been in jail a number of times already. They know her well," Ricky replied, chuckling.

"She doesn't care about getting thrown in jail?"

Ricky started laughing. "Oh, they don't keep her very long because she's been eighty-sixed." Ricky was still laughing. "She shows them her snatch on the surveillance cameras—causes quite a stir. She's been eighty-sixed from every bar in town too," he said over his shoulder, walking away.

*

"Hi there, cutie pie," Wacko told the clerk, coming up to the checkout with four half-gallons of vodka. She had one in each hand and one tucked under each arm. "Want to go to my party?"

The good-looking young clerk said nothing and quickly scanned the vodka.

"My Ricky is such a naughty boy."

The clerk continued to ignore her.

"Want to see why he's so naughty?" Wacko giggled and pulled her dress up with both hands.

"Ahhh!" he yelled, dropping the bottle he was pulling through the scanner.

Wacko stood with her dress up over her hips, looking down at herself.

"Ricky likes me to be smooth down there, so he shaved me," she said loudly. "See?" she continued, lifting one of her legs, putting her knee on the edge of the counter. "I'll bet'cha you've never seen anything like this!"

The clerk gulped in a state of shock. "Forty-eight sixty-five."

"Goddamn it!" said Ricky. He walked up eating a big sandwich—lettuce, cheese, and meat were spilling out every side. He pulled Wacko's dress down. "You're going to make him go blind."

Ricky turned to the clerk. "Sorry about that," he said with his mouth full.

"Sir, is that one of our deli sandwiches?" asked the clerk, still shaken.

"No, I made it myself," Ricky said, sticking the sandwich out for the clerk to inspect.

"But, I don't know how to ring that up," said the clerk.

"That's the whole point," stated Ricky, throwing money down on the counter. He grabbed the liquor, handed it to John, and pulled Wacko by the arm.

"Wait, wait, cutie pie wants my number," she said, trying to get loose from Ricky, but he hustled her out of the store.

"You going to be okay?" Danielle asked the shaken clerk, laughing.

"God that was scary," he said. "Some of the rich, old women can be a pain in the ass, but that's something that's never happened before."

"That's what you get for leading them on," Danielle said, shaking her finger at him.

"I did not do anything to deserve that!"

Danielle looked at the young clerk, smiling. "So, tell me about the rich, old women."

"One time I made the mistake of going along and ended up running out of a house without my pants," he said calmly. "She just thought we were playing hide-and-seek and came looking for me. I was hiding in the bushes, and she's out there calling, "lover . . . lover". I was trying to escape across the golf course and security nailed me. I just about lost my job here."

Danielle laughed. "Does she still come in?"

"Yeah, but it's not pleasant. She's a woman scorned, you know." He gulped again. "But I've never had anything like "that" happen before," he repeated.

"You shouldn't lead the old ladies on unless you're willing to give them the little toss they want," advised Danielle. "Makes it a lot easier."

"Oh, yeah? That's how I lost my last job," he said.

"See, you're too good-looking. It's a curse, you know?"

"You should know," the clerk said, giving Danielle the eye.

"Are you flirting with me?" asked Danielle. "You're just a baby."

"But, lady, at least you'd be worth the trouble."

"Stick to the old, rich women, kid," she said. "It's a lot cheaper, and I'd just break your heart."

"But it would still be worth it," the clerk said with a wishful grin as he watched Danielle leave the store.

*

As Ruby rounded the home corner, they saw flashing lights down the block.

"Oh crap, it's the cops!" shouted Ricky. "Stop!" he commanded, but Wacko sped up.

"Something has happened at my house!" she said.

"Damn it, I said stop!"

But the big Rolls continued racing down the street. Wacko slammed on the brakes, stopping just behind one of the police cars. All the neighbors were outside watching.

Three police officers were inspecting the damage in the garage. Wacko parked and everyone got out of the car.

"Has something happened to my house?" she yelled, running over the garage door.

One of the officers turned when she headed into the garage. He was startled by the wild-looking woman headed straight at him.

"What happened here?" she shouted. "Who did this?"

"Are you the owner?" asked the officer.

Another officer was looking through the hole into the bedroom.

"What are you doing in my house?" Wacko demanded.

"Ma'am, we got a call about a disturbance. What happened here?"

Ricky stepped in front of her. "The gearshift lever sticks," he said.

"This was all done with a car?" the officer asked.

Ricky shrugged. "It's a big car."

The officer gestured to the large hole. "When did this happen?"

"Last week," replied Ricky.

"One of the neighbors called and said someone had busted the garage door," the officer said, pointing to the door lying on the driveway.

"Yes, the gear lever sticks. I already told you that," said Ricky.

"And this just happened?"

The officer was taking notes.

"Yes, about half an hour ago," said Ricky.

"When were you planning to fix the gear lever?"

Ricky didn't respond.

"Who was driving?" continued the officer.

"I was," Ricky said quickly.

"I'm the only one that is allowed to drive Ruby," Wacko shouted.

Ricky turned and glared at her.

"Have you been drinking?" the officer asked Ricky.

"Certainly not," he responded.

"Then how did this happen?"

"I told you the—"

"The gearshift stuck," said the officer. "If she's the only one allowed to drive the car, why did you say you were?"

"Oh, she's drunk. Obviously she's in no shape to drive." Ricky's tone was confident, like he had just sensibly clarified the whole issue.

"No one drives Ruby!" Wacko shouted, stomping her feet.

"Oh, Christ, not her!" said another officer, walking up and immediately recognizing the crazy woman.

"You know her?" asked the officer taking notes.

"Yeah, she's the one that's banned from the jail."

"She's the one that exposes herself on the surveillance cameras?"

"That's her."

"What do we do now?"

"I don't know? I guess, write her up. But leave her here because we can't take her in."

"This is nuts."

*

"So she's out driving drunk, and you aren't going to arrest her?" asked an irate neighbor as the officers prepared to leave. "What kind of police department are you running? I demand to know!"

"Sir, it's kind of a delicate situation," an officer said.

"What the hell's delicate about it?" the neighbor demanded. "Every time you assholes stop "me", "I" get carted off to jail. Who does this woman think she is? I demand equality."

"Have you been drinking, sir?" the officer asked.

"In the safety of my own home. You got a problem with that?"

"Sir, I don't have a problem," said the officer. "Why don't you just go home and have another drink?"

"I demand that you take this, this drunken woman to jail! If you don't, you're going to hear from my lawyer!"

"Please, sir, just go home, or I'm going to take you in."

"And let her go?" shouted the neighbor.

"We can't take her in. You don't understand."

Chapter 19

Danielle, John and Heather were on their way to Babad Bob's so Danielle could get some money to buy a dress for the formal dinner they were attending that night.

"But doesn't he get crazy when you bring someone with you?" asked John.

"Oh, don't be such a fraidy-cat. If he gets cuckoo, just ignore him," said Danielle.

*

They arrived at the house. Danielle had a key and let herself in.

Bob was stretched out on the couch, watching a black-and-white movie on TV. An old, shabby dog was lying on his chest. He turned to see Danielle coming through the door.

"Ah, the love of my life," he glowed.

Then Heather came through the door.

"And the troubled daughter," he said.

When John walked through behind Heather, Bob's face went sour. "How come you can't ever be by yourself? You've always got to have one of your guy friends right behind you." Bob sneered and turned back to the TV.

"Oh, come on, Bob, you know John's a writer and nothing more," said Danielle.

"Where's his notepad?"

Bob turned his head, looked at John, and then Danielle. He turned back to the TV and pulled the dog up to his face.

"Oh, Boozer, Boozer, my lover, mu, mu, mu." Bob kissed the dog on the mouth.

"Oh, yuck!" said Heather.

"Bob, what do you think you're doing? Get that smelly old dog off the couch," Danielle scolded him. "I sit there."

"Boozer is not on the couch. She's on me, and that's the way we like it, don't we, Boozer?"

Bob started kissing the dog again—every kiss he accentuated verbally. "Smooch, smooch, smooch, Boozer, and we don't care what she thinks, do we, Boozer? Smooch, smooch, smooch."

"I wonder what the puppies are going to look like?" said Heather, looking absolutely traumatized.

Bob gave John a nasty stare. "I don't want to see him at the dinner tonight."

"Bob," said Danielle, "it's none of your business who comes and who doesn't."

"If he shows up, there's going to be trouble," he said.

"Don't you go ruining another party!" said Danielle. "You are so childish sometimes."

"I didn't ruin last year's dinner, that was your brother."

"Ricky didn't start anything, that was you!"

"I don't ever want to see your brother again, and I'm serious!"

"Aunt Wanda is in town. She might like to go?" Heather added, aiming to provoke him.

"That woman will not be welcome there!" shrieked Bob, livid.

Danielle gave Heather a nasty look for stirring him up.

*

"So, what's loser Steve up to?" Martha asked Wanda. Wanda had just arrived, at the ranch, from her drive down and was on the porch with Martha and Danielle.

"The same, doing nothing."

"Oh, I'm sure he's still "looking for a job", as usual," said Martha.

"Oh, no, he's all depressed. He claims he was going to get a job at the restaurant we got thrown out of, and it's all our fault that he can't find work because we've tarnished his reputation," Wanda explained, laughing.

"He's such a good-looking fellow. What went wrong?" Martha asked, shaking her head.

"Well, duuh," said Wanda, "he was "too" good-looking for his own good. He could get all the women he wanted, and, like, responsibility passed him by and now it's too late."

"Who's to blame? Steve, because of his looks, or all the dumb women who spoiled him, you included?"

"That's also Dad's problem, Mother. That's how he got you," said Wanda.

"I chose your father because of his potential. You got stuck with Steve because he could scratch the itch between your legs," said Martha.

Wanda laughed. "It counts!"

"Not for me," said Martha.

"That's why you can get so nasty," said Wanda quickly. "If you have an itch, scratch it. Don't make everyone else pay."

"Oooh, good one," applauded Danielle.

*

"I don't think this is such a good idea. Bob was quite animated about you two not showing up at this function," John said, trying to stop Ricky and Wanda. They were all headed down a long hall, right for big open doors that music and loud voices were coming from.

Two men and a woman were standing at a table to the left of the doors.

"I'm sorry, sir," one of the men told Ricky when he tried to walk into the party. "This is a private party."

Ricky tried to talk his way in. "I realize that, and I'm an invited guest, as is my sister and our friend."

"Sir, this is a formal event." The man was looking at Wanda's feet because she was wearing fuzzy, pink bedroom slippers. "You're not exactly dressed properly." The guy indicated Ricky's jeans and sloppy sweat shirt. "And where are your tickets?"

"The attire is optional, and my other sister, she's in there,"—Ricky pointed to the ballroom—"she brought the tickets for us. We need to go in and get them."

Ricky started into the ballroom.

"No way. I'm not falling for that!" The man said, stepping in front of him. "No tickets, no getting in."

"What's your name?" Ricky demanded, puffing up his physique.

"Mike," said the man, also standing tall. He was big, just like Ricky. "Want that permanently stenciled on your forehead so you won't ever forget me?"

Mike was serious and Ricky retreated. Looking farther down the hall, he spotted two waiters coming through another door to the ballroom.

"Let's go," Ricky said, leading them back the way they came.

*

They walked out the front door of the hotel, walked all the way around the building, and reentered from the rear.

"It doesn't smell very good here," said John.

"You don't know anything, do you? This is where they dump all the garbage," Ricky said, opening the rear service door. "Follow me," he said, walking past the time clocks and the break room.

John and Wanda dutifully trailed Ricky as they walked through the kitchen. The staff looked at them, wondering who they might be. Toward the front of the kitchen, next to the doors that led out to the hallway of the hotel, some serving trays were piled with hors d'oeuvres. Ricky picked up a tray, indicating that Wanda and John should do the same. The three proceeded down the hall until they came to the second, smaller door to the ballroom and walked right into the party. Once inside, Ricky put his tray on the first table he saw and headed for the crowded ballroom floor. John and Wanda followed suit.

It took a few moments to spot the table with Babad Bob, Danielle, and the rest of their friends. Ricky headed right for them. Babad Bob spotted them coming and jumped up from his seat.

"I don't believe this! Who let you in here?" he shouted.

"This isn't a closed affair. We have as much right here as you do," said Ricky, walking up to the table.

Bob was irate, his face bright red. "You don't have tickets. I know you don't. Get out!"

"Hey, we just came to do a little dancing. Why do you object to that?" Ricky asked, taking Wanda's hand. "Cool your jets."

Ricky pulled Wanda to the dance floor.

"Danielle, you get them out of here, now," Bob sputtered, "or there is going to be trouble."

"Please, Bob, don't start a scene," Danielle begged. "Just leave them alone. I don't want to be embarrassed."

"Then get them out of here," Bob said as if it were the only thing that made sense.

"Look at them!" he shouted, pointing. "This is supposed to be a formal occasion, and they're wearing jeans. And she's wearing slippers! How did they get in here?"

"Just stop," said Danielle. "Leave it alone, please."

"I will not."

"Oh, great! You're going to ruin the party, 'again'," she said, throwing her arms up.

"I'm not ruining anything, your brother and sister are . . . and him," said Bob, pointing at John, who was standing back trying to stay out of the fracas.

Danielle saw John and rushed over. "You asshole! What's the meaning of this?" She was right in John's face. "I thought we were friends?"

"I did not think we would get in," he tried to explain, "but your brother is amazingly sneaky."

"Well, you're in now," she said, shaking her finger at him. "Do something before this thing explodes, because Bob is not going to settle down."

"I think that is what Ricky and Wanda are expecting," he said.

"Then do something!"

John shrugged. "What can I do? They are not going to listen to me."

"Make them get out!" she ordered.

"It isn't going to work."

"If someone gets hurt, I'm going to blame you."

Danielle poked John's chest.

"I did not think we would get in," he said again, frustrated.

"Oh no! There goes Bob! He's going to start something right on the dance floor."

She ran to head him off, but it was too late.

*

"You get out now! You were not invited here," Bob hollered, pushing through the last of the other dancers. He was carrying a bottle of champagne.

"We're just dancing, and you don't have any right to interfere," stated Wanda.

Everyone around them had taken notice.

"I want you out of here!" he demanded, grabbing Wanda's arm and pouring the bottle over her head.

Danielle grabbed Bob's arm at the same time. He flung his arm back and pushed Danielle backwards hard. She lost her balance and landed on her butt, causing her short, black cocktail dress to ride up around her waist. The momentum was great enough to send her sliding. She came to a stop with her legs up in the air, spread wide.

John, watching the events unfold, had quickly anticipated the embarrassing situation and grabbed a coat off the chair next to him. He flung it down between Danielle's legs before anyone had the chance to notice.

Ricky and Bob were squared off, eyeing each other intensely. Both were crouched in a fighting stance—a major altercation moments away. All the partygoers were watching anxiously.

John jumped out of the crowd, rushing between the combatants. "Now, guys," he said, holding his arms out to stop them.

"Get out of the way, John!" shouted Ricky, closing in. "This asshole is mine!"

"Oh yeah?" said Bob, narrowing the gap with the bottle still in his hand.

John was caught in the middle. He looked intently at Ricky. Suddenly there was a horrendous fart. Ricky looked stunned. He shot up quickly from his combative stance and puckered his butt cheeks. Just as the sound seemed to dissipate in the hushed atmosphere, another gaseous explosion reverberated. This time Bob straightened suddenly, his expression and action similar to Ricky's.

"Oh, yuck!" someone yelled.

The rest of the crowd was amazingly quiet.

"That wasn't me!" declared Ricky.

"What the hell?" another bystander yelled.

"It's a gas attack!" someone else shouted.

The entire party, which had anticipated a fight, broke out in raucous laughter.

"That sounded wet!" someone else added.

Ricky and Bob just stood there, literally the center of the joke.

Ricky tried to regain his anger, but Wanda was holding on to his sweatshirt sleeve laughing uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face.

Bob stood, stunned, as everyone else laughed hysterically.

*

The two men from the entrance table, along with two security personnel, rushed into the fray expecting to break up a fight. They stood, confused by all the laughter, not knowing what had happened. The commotion gradually died down enough for them to get some sense of what they needed to do.

Mike, the tough guy from the entrance table, looked to Ricky. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"It wasn't too hard. Obviously they don't hire the swiftest of people," Ricky smirked, still looking to start something.

"Get him out of here!" Mike told the security.

The two large men moved at Ricky and grabbed his arms. He tried to struggle out of their grasp, but appeared to let loose with another horrendous fart.

""That . . . was . . . not . . . me"!" Ricky yelled defiantly.

The men were caught off guard, and the entire party surrounding the incident was thrown into another bout of sustained, hilarious laughter.

Ricky was finally deflated, but still putting up a fuss, while the two men dragged him off. Mike gathered up Wanda and John and escorted them to the big doors out of the ballroom. Wanda was still laughing so hard; Mike had to help her walk.

"What the hell happened in there?" he asked. "We were told there was a fight."

"There was supposed to be—" Wanda struggled to catch her breath—"but it didn't quite turn out."

"What happened?"

"You would've had to been there," she gasped.

*

The two security men escorted Ricky, who was finally cooperating, toward the front entrance of the hotel. John and Wanda were following with Mike.

"Hey, I want our money back!" shouted Ricky.

"What are you talking about?" asked Mike.

"We had tickets! I paid for them and I want my money back," he shouted, passing the front desk.

One of the managers came out and asked what the problem was.

"I paid for the dance, and now we are being ejected, and it was no fault of ours. This guy"—he pointed at Mike—"wouldn't let us in and started the whole thing."

"I thought it was a formal affair," the manager said, noticing Wanda's slippers.

"I wasn't informed of that!" Ricky declared. "Somebody hustled us to get our money, and I want it back or I'm going to call my lawyer."

*

In the parking lot, Wanda confronted Ricky. "Okay, hand it over," she said.

"Hand what over?"

"We went along with this plan of yours and came through. You've made a substantial profit you never expected, and I think John and I deserve our cut."

"No way. I planned it and it's mine," he said, walking toward a large group of people heading into the hotel. One was a particularly gorgeous lady. She and Ricky made eye contact.

"John," said Wanda quietly, "Heather was telling me about your talent for projecting sounds."

John gave her a nudge and nodded toward Ricky, who was slowing down to get the lady's attention.

Ricky stopped and extended his hand. "Good evening, you—"

A loud "phhuufffttt" cut the still, evening air. Ricky shot straight up, puckering his butt cheeks again.

The gorgeous lady gasped, snatched her hand back, and fled.

"It . . . wasn't . . . meeee!" Ricky wailed.

"Oh, God!" Wanda said as she gasped for breath. "I can't take any more of this, my stomach hurts."

She and John were holding each other up.

*

"Bob, I don't know why I let you talk me into letting you stay over, especially after what you pulled at the formal tonight," Danielle said, lying in the bed, propped up by the pillows.

"Because I'm your snooky-wooky," he said, standing next to the bed, with a concerned look on his face. "Aren't I? . . . I wasn't the only one at fault."

"Look, Bob, I'm tired and I don't want to discuss this now. We can talk about it in the morning," she said calmly.

"Okay, honey bunny, you get some sleep," he said and left the bedroom.

Bob went into the living room and started watching TV. He sat there fidgeting for about five minutes, then got up and went back into Danielle's bedroom. "You know, I wasn't the only one to blame," he said, walking up to her in bed.

"Bob, I thought we agreed to talk about this in the morning?" Danielle said her voice a little louder now.

"Yes, but it might be better to get it off our chests."

"We are just going to end up fighting. Let it go, because I don't want to discuss it tonight. "Please", just let me rest."

"You're just lying there reading. We should get it out in the open now."

"Bob, what is there to discuss? You were a complete idiot tonight. Please," she pleaded, "go watch one of your sappy old movies."

Bob left the bedroom again and went back to watch TV.

Bob sat there for five more minutes, then jumped up and went to the bedroom again. "I think I deserve an apology."

"Bob, leave it alone. You're the one that blew it out your ass, literally. Can't you just once give me a break?"

"I think it needs to be resolved," he said. "And I don't know why your friend John has to be here. And I did not do that. I would never disgrace myself like that."

"Bob, you distinguished yourself, now get out," Danielle said sternly. "I asked you to buzz off, now please!"

Bob went back into the living room and sat down. He watched TV for five more minutes. Then he was up, going back into the bedroom.

"Bob!" shouted Danielle. "I'm not going to tell you again. Leave me alone!"

Bob went back out and seemed to settle in. This time he lasted closer to ten minutes before getting up and heading to the bedroom.

The shouting from the bedroom ended with Danielle screaming at the top of her lungs, "Leave me the fuck alone, or else!"

Bob walked back into the living room with a queer, satisfied smile. He sat restlessly, pretending to watch TV, but he was really fidgeting. He jumped up and stalked off to the bedroom.

The shouting started again. This time there was a big crash, and Bob came running out of the bedroom, frightened. Danielle was right behind him yelling maniacally. She had a big hairbrush in her hand.

"Get the fuck out of this house!"

Bob ran into the kitchen, Danielle right on his heels. Bob, using the island, managed to put some distance between them, but it was apparent that Danielle was looking for the kill. She leaned forward and swung the brush across the island, forcing him to jump back to get out of her reach. She swung the brush back-and-forth just inches from Bob's head. It was clear that the island was no sanctuary, so he headed for the door leading to the garage, just managing to open it in time. He dashed into the garage only to find himself trapped. Danielle grabbed a short piece of PVC pipe that was lying against the wall.

"You want to keep pushing me, huh?" she snarled, advancing toward him.

Bob backed up, sliding against the car without turning his back to her. He looked terrified.

"You . . . didn't . . . want . . . to . . . let . . . it . . . rest! Well, you got your wish." She continued to advance toward him with a sinister grin on her face, holding the pipe in both hands like a baseball bat. "I'm not waiting until tomorrow," she said, winding up. "I'm going to bust your ass right now!"

Bob had backed into the corner of the garage.

""Right here, right now"!"

She swung the plastic pipe with all her might.

Bob ducked for his life.

""I'll teach you to keep screwing with me"!" she hissed maniacally as the pipe glanced off Bob's shoulder. She tried again with a backhand swing, still not getting a solid, satisfying hit.

"You're crazy!" Bob cried, scrambling along the floor to the back of the car. "You leave me alone! You're going to hurt me!"

He made it to the other side of the car, but Danielle was right on him. She lined up for the kill. The PVC pipe whistled through the air and met the back of his head with a thwack and broken pieces of plastic flying in all directions. Bob's glasses hung down from his ears. He hurriedly tried to get them back on securely, but Danielle threw down the shattered pipe and grabbed the glasses off his face.

"Ahhh, yeeaah!" she cried.

She twisted them violently with both hands until there was a breaking sound. She threw the destroyed glasses to the floor and stomped on them repeatedly. She straightened up after about the tenth stomp and calmly said, "That felt so good. Next time you mess with me, it's going to be your dick." She reached down and picked up the biggest remaining piece of Bob's glasses. She handed it to him and went back into the house.

"Did you see that crazy woman?" Bob asked John, who had been standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the whole thing. "She could have hurt me."

"Wow!" he said. "You provoked her, hoping for a little rise. I bet you didn't expect "that"."

Chapter 20

"What do you mean you're leaving in two days? You just got here," Danielle said. She and John were heading back to the ranch.

"I was only scheduled to be here so long," John explained. "It would be impossible to change those plans."

"Why are you in such a hurry to leave? You've had the best time of your life with us."

"Yes, I'm enjoying the Walnuts. You're very interesting people."

"Then why go?" Danielle sounded mad.

"I have another life. I like that one too."

"You need to get back to your wife." Danielle sounded sad.

"Yes, I promised to be back."

"Wake up, John. People change, things change. When you find something good, don't walk away. Don't blow it."

"But I "have" something good, and I don't want to blow it."

"I still don't see why you can't stay a little longer," she said, driving up to the gate.

*

When they got out of the car, Jed was hollering at Martha inside the house.

"What? I know you didn't need that card. Why'd you take it?"

"The gin game is a staple of life for Jed and Martha," John said, following Danielle up to the door. "Martha must be good. Jed hardly ever wins, but still insists on playing almost every day."

"Who can figure any of you out?" Danielle said coldly.

"There you go, that's more like it!" Jed shouted confidently as Danielle and John came through the door.

Jed discarded quickly. Martha picked his card up almost instantly and laid her cards on the table.

"Gin!"

"What!" Jed howled, throwing his cards down on the table. "I don't believe it! How did you manage to get that damn lucky?"

"It has something to do with skill," Martha said, getting up to go to the kitchen. "Don't you have things to do? I'm tired of winning."

"I can't believe how lucky you are."

*

"Everyone tells me you're leaving us soon," said Martha. She and John were alone in the backyard.

"Yes, my time here is up."

"Where's your buddy, that Camper fool?"

"He has something important to do."

"Yeah, it's important he stays away from here," Martha crowed.

"What did he do?"

"He tried to pass himself off as some sort of expert."

"An expert on what?"

"On everything. But I gave him a reality check. He won't be back."

"He has traveled extensively," John said in Camper's defense.

"Big deal. I know what's up around here, get my point?" Martha smiled.

"Ah, out here, when the queen speaks, people listen," he said.

"Don't get smart with me!" Martha snapped, and then hesitated. "And why the hell not? How many people get to command anything? It's a privilege. Even if I'm not really entitled—no one ever is, maybe a couple of dogs I've had, but no one else—who's the fool not to take advantage of it? And you tell anyone I said any of this, I will kick your ass all the way back to that planet they all think you came from!" She gave John a cold, serious look. "Deal?"

"Deal."

*

Jed and Danielle were making some snacks in the kitchen.

"Why are you giving John the cold shoulder?" Jed asked.

"Cause he's a butt-head."

"What'd he do?"

"He won't tell me where he's from, and I don't trust him," said Danielle, annoyed.

"Oh, that," he said. "I know, so you don't have to worry. He's a good man."

"He told you?" Danielle shrieked.

"No, I guessed right and he confirmed it. You got the same deal if I remember correctly."

"That S.O.B!" she shouted and stomped off.

*

"Bob is coming out," said Danielle, walking into the family room.

"What the hell are you thinking?" asked Martha. "I don't want that crazy S.O.B. out here!"

"He insisted. I told him that I had to come out because we've all been invited to Harold and Madeline's. He wouldn't take no for an answer."

*

Jed was outside when Bob drove up.

"Hello, Bob," he said. "How's the business side of things?"

"Too much work and too little fun, as usual. And how are things at your end?"

"I don't have much to add to that. Look, Bob, I respect your work ethic and all that—God knows I don't get to see much of that around this bunch—but please try not to short out." Jed watched Bob stiffen. "Will you do that for me?"

"It's Danielle. She does that to me."

"Danielle is Danielle. Nothing you can possibly do will change that. For your own good, you should be running as far and as fast as you can."

"I do not give up!" declared Bob.

Jed sighed. "Yeah, Bob, we all know that," he said as Bob headed for the house.

*

Martha stopped Bob in the hall. "You behave yourself, you hear me?"

"You should be talking to your children. They're the ones that start everything," said Bob, looking over Martha's shoulder at Wanda, who was sitting at the morning table.

"They can't help themselves," Martha said. "You're too easy."

"I find it difficult to live life as a constant joke." Bob looked at Wanda, who was smiling at him.

"Oh, Christ!" said Martha. "If you'd learn to laugh at yourself once in a while, you might be okay."

Bob was looking around for Danielle. "Where is she?"

"She's down by the lake talking to John," said Wanda.

"What does she see in that guy?" he growled.

"He's leaving, going home."

"I suppose you got a real charge out of the formal?" he asked Wanda.

"Yeah, you didn't let us down."

"Why do you insist on making my life miserable?"

"Bob, when are you going to learn?" Wanda was shaking her head. "The Walnuts pick on everyone. It's nothing personal until you make it that way."

"I just want Danielle and I to be able to have a life separate from all this craziness, and then everything would be all right."

"It's never going to happen, Bob."

*

Danielle had John cornered just off the porch. "I don't believe that crap about you being an alien. Things like that just don't happen."

"Mother, Ferkle just drove up," said Heather, coming outside.

"What?" Danielle sounded like Jed. "What's he doing here?" She turned quickly and headed for the door, hustling to intercept Ferkle, the pool guy, before he got to the house.

*

"What are you doing here?" asked Danielle out at the parking area, annoyed.

"I came to . . . to see you," Ferkle declared with a big, stupid, sloppy grin on his face.

Danielle looked bewildered. "I didn't invite you."

Ferkle's face fell blank. "But I . . . I th-thought you did?"

"I did not!"

"You . . . you"—his voice quivered—"said I had . . . had to see the ranch." He looked down like a scolded puppy. "That . . . that I wouldn't believe it." Ferkle's voice begged for forgiveness.

"I meant maybe sometime, but not now." Danielle's anger was diminishing.

"Well, I . . . I can leave," said Ferkle, sniveling. His shoulders sagged as he turned around.

Danielle watched him drag his battered ego halfway to his car before she finally relented. "Oh, you're here. I might as well show you around."

Danielle headed inside with Ferkle right behind her, the big sloppy grin back on his face.

"So, you're Ferkle aka Poool Booy, huh?" Martha said when Danielle introduced them. "What the hell kind of name is that?"

"I'm named after my grandfather," he said proudly.

"Hmmm." Martha was contemplating something. "Your mother and her father apparently had some issues."

"Mother!" said Danielle, trying to cut off the attack.

"I don't understand," said Ferkle.

"Well, anyone that would name a poor, innocent boy "Ferkle", even if it was their own father's name, was out to get even," Martha stated.

"Mother, you don't know what you're talking about," said Danielle.

"Yes, I do! What else could have happened to screw this guy up so bad?" Martha gave Ferkle a sympathetic look. Jed was standing by, chuckling.

Heather leaned over to John and whispered, "Grandma's getting in her licks because Ferkle's been a pest, but it'll backfire. Watch my mother. She'll bend over backwards to defend this clown now that Grandma has started something."

"So, now that we've determined that your mother didn't like you—," Martha continued.

"My mother just doesn't understand me." Ferkle's lip quivered.

"Ah, and why does the rest of the family dislike you?" she asked, kindness in her voice.

"Mother!" said Danielle.

"Families are difficult," he said softly, looking around sheepishly.

"How well I know!" declared Martha. "Heather tells me that you're a very lonely guy."

Danielle gave her a dirty look. Wanda, who was standing on the porch just outside the door, laughed loud enough for everyone to hear.

"This is my father, Jed," said Danielle, hoping to get Martha off poor Ferkle's back.

"It's so nice to meet you, sir." Ferkle extended his hand. His big slobbering grin was back. "Danielle tells me that you are a very successful businessman. I enjoy meeting people that I have something in common with."

Jed didn't comment. He just shook Ferkle's hand.

"And you know Bob, I think." Danielle pointed to Bob, who was sitting in the family room, glaring at Ferkle.

Ferkle gave him a quick glance. "I've seen him around."

"What's he doing here?" asked Bob.

"Bob, he just came out to see the ranch."

"And what a beautiful one it is," said Ferkle. He walked to the door and looked out over the porch. "This is the kind of place I'm going to have someday soon," he said with conviction.

"When would that be?" asked Martha, curious but confident. "When you find the right person to share it all with?"

"Yes," he said quickly. He looked at Danielle with longing. "A wonderful place like this should be shared with a beautiful woman."

"Oh, boy!" said Heather from the kitchen, watching Ferkle. His gaze seldom left Danielle, his face dominated by desire.

"We have plenty of company as it is, so don't get your hopes up," Jed said.

"Yeah," Martha put in, "I have enough to do without another of my family's loser friends hanging their hat on my door—"

"Come on, Ferkle," said Danielle. "I'll show you around."

Danielle headed out the door to the porch. "This is the lake I told you about," she said, pointing to the water.

"Why don't you clean it or something?" Bob shouted at Ferkle. "That should really impress her!" He had followed them to the door and stood there with a devious look on his face.

"Don't mind him," said Danielle.

"This is a beautiful lake. I would have made it much bigger, though," said Ferkle.

"There's a shovel around the side of the house," shouted Martha from inside.

Danielle put her hand on Ferkle's forearm and quietly said, "You have to watch what you say around here."

Ferkle's breathing froze as he felt Danielle's touch. She noticed the effect the simple gesture had caused and removed her hand.

"Come on," she said quickly, walking to the edge of the patio and starting down the steps.

"Oh, I'll follow you anywhere, lovely woman," gushed Ferkle. He rushed to get down the steps first and extended his hand to help her onto the grass. Danielle giggled and let him lead the way.

"What an idiot," said Jed, watching from the window. "She's smiled at him one time, and he's gone off the deep end."

"I'm leaving!" said Bob.

"Don't let the door hit you in the ass!" yelled Martha.

"Bye, Bob," added Wanda.

"Don't be a stranger." Jed couldn't resist joining in.

Heather just stood up, smiling and waving goodbye.

"You're not getting rid of me that easy!" he shouted and headed back to the family room. He plopped down on the couch, extended his legs and slammed them down on the coffee table.

"You want to have one of your temper tantrums, you take it home!" shouted Martha. "You hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you," Bob pouted.

*

Bob sat there awhile, then got up and went to the window. Danielle and Ferkle were down at the lake, laughing about something. Bob went back to the couch and repeated the earlier display.

*

Martha walked out onto the porch and yelled to Danielle, "We have to go to Madeline's, so let's get this show on the road!"

"We're going to the neighbor's," Danielle told Ferkle as they walked back to the house, "but it was nice having you out."

Ferkle was fidgeting. "Do they have a place as lovely as this?"

"They don't have a lake as big as ours."

"I want to see more of these ranches so I can get ideas for the one I'm about to build," said Ferkle, stepping up to the porch. His puppy look had returned.

Martha stood at the door. "We can't just bring anyone we wish," she said.

"Maybe we can make a trade?" Ferkle pleaded.

"Go home," said Martha.

"I'll come out and work for you, 'free!'"

"Free?" Jed exclaimed, causing Martha to groan.

*

"I'm not going. I've not been properly invited," stated Bob as the Walnuts and Ferkle headed out the door.

"What?" hollered Jed. "We said you could go. That's the only reason we let you come out here in the first place. What the hell do you need, an engraved invitation?"

"If this affair was worth attending, yes, that would be the sort of thing people would do."

"Bob, it's a barbecue," said Danielle.

"Well, I'm not attending," said Bob.

"Fine, suit yourself," said Danielle. "We'll be gone a couple of hours."

*

At the barbecue, Ferkle was talking to Harold. "How much land does your ranch "encompass"?" he asked, looking around to see if Danielle was listening.

"Five acres," said Harold.

"It doesn't seem to be as large as Jed's."

"No, they've got two parcels, ten acres."

"Are there any twenty-acre parcels around here?"

Ferkle looked intently out the window.

"The one over there is close, I think." Harold indicated the empty property next to them.

"I'll be looking at it in the morning," stated Ferkle. "I'll want to get started on my ranch as soon as possible."

"Do you have any idea what land costs around here?" asked Harold, obviously put off by Ferkle's barking.

"Oh, I have plenty of money. I'm an entrepreneur," he boasted as Jed walked up.

"What's-his-name here is going to outclass us both," Harold told Jed.

"That so? It's going to be expensive. How are you going to pay for it all?" Jed asked.

"My new business that I'm starting next week will generate two million the first year," bragged Ferkle.

"What business might that be?" asked Jed cynically.

"The one I'm starting. It will make me—"

"What's the business?" Jed interrupted sharply.

"I . . . I haven't decided yet," he stammered.

"What?" Jed shouted. Everyone turned to listen. "You're going around telling people that you're starting a business, and it's going to be wildly successful, and you haven't figured out what the business might be? Is that your spiel?"

"Anything I try will be successful. I'm an entrepreneur," Ferkle said as Danielle hurried over.

"He's also a gifted salesman," she said, trying to defend him.

"What?" Jed shouted at Danielle. "He couldn't sell "you" to a bus load of drunken sailors!"

"And you're an idiot," he told Ferkle.

Jed looked at Wanda. "I can't imagine what she sees in this rube."

Wanda winked at Jed and shouted, "Hey, Pool Boy, you must have a big wanger, huh?"

"Oh God!" shouted Heather, making a retching noise.

"That makes sense," added Jed. "Obviously there wouldn't be intellectual stimulus."

Ferkle looked confused. Danielle leaned over and whispered in his ear. He shook his head and a smile appeared on his face.

"Yes, I am quite well endowed," he said confidently.

"Gee, that's too bad," said Martha, sensing an opening. "It's going to be rough a little later in life. Of course, I would imagine a high-strung fellow like you might have had the first signs of problems already."

"Mother!" said Danielle.

"Now, Danielle, a fellow such as Ferkle here," Martha pointed at him with a look of genuine concern, "should be aware of his limitations."

"Ah, I . . . I don't have any limitations." Ferkle sounded baffled.

"Oh, maybe not yet, but I can sense that you have some issues with high blood pressure," said Martha.

"Yes, it runs in my family, but with medication—"

"Already!" said Martha.

"Mother, please!" said Danielle, exasperated.

Martha shook her head. She looked sad. "See, Ferkle, you guys with the big gun have diminished capabilities as you get older. The old heart can't keep the necessary pressure up, and the manhood falters."

"Huh? I don't know what you mean."

"You can't get it up, fool!" Martha sounded disappointed with Ferkle's lack of understanding.

Danielle made the mistake of laughing along with everyone else.

"It doesn't happen very often," he whined, looking quickly at Danielle.

"Mother, that was cruel and uncalled for!" Danielle said after the laughing had died down.

Ferkle stood behind her with a solemn look on his face. His only protection from the constant onslaught from the Walnuts was Danielle.

*

"What the hell is all the quacking?" Jed asked, coming around his porch with Danielle, returning from the neighbors.

Heather stood by the door. "It's Bob," she said. "He's on the deck having an intelligent conversation with the ducks."

"Where the hell is all the beer?" Martha roared from the kitchen, the refrigerator door open in front of her.

"Bob drank it all!" Heather shouted.

"Bob doesn't drink beer," said Danielle.

"Well, there's three cases of empties lined up on the railing right in front of him, and he's quacking like a duck. I'd say he looks suspicious," said Jed.

"There's also a big spot of foam in the grass right below him," said Heather, laughing.

"You mean that S.O.B. poured all the beer out and is pretending to be drunk?" shouted Martha.

Danielle sighed. "He does that when nobody's paying him any attention. It's his way of pouting."

"Jesus Christ, I can't believe this crap." Martha shook her head.

"Why do we have to put up with this nonsense?" asked Jed.

"Do you think the ducks will accept him as their leader?" asked Heather.

"Nah, he's just something for them to do, for now," said Wanda. "When they fly north, I doubt they'll want him out in front. They're not that dumb."

Bob heard the comments and intensified his drunken act. He staggered to one of the metal folding lawn chairs. Reaching it, he thrust both hands out and collapsed.

"Owww!" he screamed. "Oh my God!" He jumped up, holding his right hand.

No one was paying him any attention.

"Help me, help me!" he shouted, still holding his hand.

"Bob! Cool it!" yelled Heather, the only one still outside with him. "You're scaring the ducks, and they're the only friends you have right now!"

Bob was yelping and hopping around, holding his hand up as it started to bleed.

"What the hell did you do, you idiot?" asked Heather.

She walked over to the deck and looked down.

"Oh, ick!" she shouted. "Hey, everyone!" She ran to the door and looked inside. "Babad Bob whacked his finger off!"

Jed was the first out the door. "What?"

Heather pointed down to the deck. "Babad Bob whacked his finger off," she repeated.

"What the hell are you talking about? Don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly," she said, pointing down. "There's Bob's finger, and he's over there." She pointed to Bob, who had run out onto the lawn and was hopping around, still yelping.

"Son—of—a—bitch!" said Jed. "She's right. That idiot did cut his damn finger off."

Martha came out to see what the ruckus was about. "What's wrong with that fool now?" she asked.

"Bob cut his finger off," Heather told her. "It's lying on the deck there." She pointed to the bloody finger.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" exclaimed Martha. "Jed, do something!"

"What the hell do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know," shouted Martha, watching Bob dance out on the lawn. "I knew if he came out, there'd be trouble."

Heather ran into the house.

Bob was still hopping around when John got to him. He grabbed Bob's arm.

"Don't you touch me, you, you weirdo!"

"Just settle down, I'm trying to help you," John said, holding Bob's wrist.

"Nobody can help me. I'm disfigured for life!" cried Bob.

"What?" shouted Jed. "Now, wait a minute!"

"Now, Bob," said John, "we need to deal with this right now. Let me help."

"I don't want your help. I don't want anyone's help!"

"Bob," John said calmly, squeezing Bob's hand.

Bob got a strange look on his face, but calmed down.

Heather returned with a big cup full of ice.

"What are you doing?" asked Martha.

"I'm going to get the finger," she replied.

"Don't touch that thing!" shouted Martha.

"Oh, Grandma," she replied, picking up the finger and placing it in the cup. "If we keep it cold, they can sew it back on."

"There you go!" said Jed. "Somebody's finally thinking. No need to worry, Bob, you'll be good as new."

"No, I won't, I'll never be the same again," he said, showing everyone the stump where his finger had been.

"Aaauugghh!" shouted Martha, running back into the house.

"We're headed to the hospital," said Jed. "We've got to help Bob."

*

Jed piled Bob, Danielle, Wanda, and Martha into his pickup and sped off to the hospital.

"I think we need to stop here to fortify ourselves for the unpleasant task at hand," said Martha, pointing at the bar and restaurant coming up.

"I don't want to go into a bar, I want my finger put back on," whined Bob. "It hurts like hell!"

"There you go. A couple of drinks will do you good, you big baby," she snorted. "Turn in, Jed!"

"I don't think we should waste any time," Jed said. "We need to—"

"Turn in!" ordered Martha. "I'm not relishing the thought of sitting in that damn hospital, and it's his fault." She pointed at Bob. "He poured out all the beer."

Jed reluctantly drove into the parking lot. As they were piling out of the truck, Bob grabbed the cup with his finger in it.

"Just leave the damn thing!" instructed Martha. "Nobody's going to want your finger in an eating establishment."

"I want my finger with me."

"Oh, for Christ's sake! I'm not going to sit here and argue. Take the damn thing," she grumbled and headed for the bar.

*

"What's with him?" asked the bartender, looking at Bob, who was rocking back-and-forth on his bar stool.

"He's missing some crucial parts," Martha said.

"What, he's mentally challenged or something?" The bartender looked at Bob more closely.

"That too," said Martha. "Damn fool cut off his finger."

"How did he do that?"

"Pretending to be drunk," said Jed.

"Shouldn't he be in the hospital?" The bartender moved down to Bob, whose head was now down on the bar. "Are you okay, buddy?" he asked, reaching for the cup that was sitting on the bar in front of Bob.

"No, I am not!" he declared his head still on the bar.

The bartender grabbed the cup, dumped the contents into the sink, and naturally hit the disposal switch.

"Nooooo!" shouted Danielle. She saw what was happening, but the bartender was too quick for her.

*

"You guys are back quick," Heather said when they returned. She was sitting in the family room talking on the phone. "Did Bob get fixed up?"

Jed's shoulders were slumped. "We needed to get that finger back where it belonged."

"We lost the finger," Danielle said quietly.

"You lost the finger?" said Heather incredulously "Where?"

"Where else?" Danielle shrugged. "In a bar."

*

Ferkle was rummaging around in the refrigerator. He left when the Walnuts went to the hospital. However, when they returned Ferkle was walking around the raw land that was going to be his ranch. He immediately rushed back to continue the pursuit of Danielle.

"What the hell are you doing going through my refrigerator?" Martha shouted.

Ferkle jumped, dropping the pitcher he had in his hand. It smashed on the floor.

"I . . . I was—"

"Get out of my refrigerator, now!"

"Mother, he was getting me something to drink." Danielle tried to defend poor Ferkle, who was clearly not sure what to do.

"Get your own damn drinks. I don't want him in there!" Martha shouted. "He's been here a couple hours and he's already making himself at home."

"Mother, you're being ridiculous."

"I am not! I don't like that guy!" she yelled.

Ferkle was moving slowly toward the door.

"Mother, you don't like anyone I'm involved with!"

This caused Ferkle to stop cold in his tracks. His big, dopey grin spread across his face.

"I want him out of here, now!"

"Don't tell me what to do," shouted Danielle. "I'm a grown woman!"

"—that plays with little boys," said Martha.

"I do not! I resent that!"

"Then tell me this—why are you interested in Pool Boy there?"

"I'll be interested in who I want!"

Ferkle was grinning ear to ear.

"Is that why you encouraged him to stay?"

"I did not encourage him. He invited himself."

"And that doesn't raise any flags?" asked Jed.

"You have always been against any man that's interested in me. And that's exactly why you're against poor Ferkle!"

"You idiot, he's a fraud!" shouted Jed.

"No, he's not! He's going to build a big ranch right next door!"

"Agguuurrr!" shouted Jed, throwing up his hands and walking away.

*

Ferkle had a look of satisfaction on his face as Danielle escorted him outside to his car.

"I want to go to sleep and not wake up until I see you again," Ferkle told her, looking intensely into her eyes. He held both her hands and tried to pull her to him.

"Oh, go home. You're being silly."

She giggled as he tried to squeeze up tight against her.

*

When Danielle walked back into the family room, her mother was the first to speak.

"Well, that was interesting," she said.

"Don't start," warned Danielle. "I don't need any crap from any of you."

"You know, Danielle," John said, "I think everyone is just concerned."

"You know, John, you might be able to get a woman if you paid them any attention."

"I don't know what you mean."

"John, women like to be noticed. They like men that are willing to go the extra mile."

"Like Ferkle?" he asked.

"Don't "you" start," she growled. "Ferkle knows a few things you could learn."

"John has no need to learn how to clean pools," said Jed.

"You know your problem, John?" Danielle was angry. "You think you're better than everybody. You hang around, never saying much, just watching and adding these little comments and actions, trying to make the rest of us feel inferior."

"I'm sorry. That was wrong of me. I was sidestepping an issue."

"John, you're showing some emotion," Danielle said. "It's not like you."

"I have something to say, that's all."

"Okay, what's on your mind?"

"Someday you will be the queen of this ranch," he stated.

"Yes, I suppose. What's wrong with that?"

"Ferkle will be king."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous." Danielle laughed. "What makes you think that?"

"He told me."

Chapter 21

"John just told me he's leaving in the morning," Heather said, walking into the family room with John, her arm through his. Jed and Martha were sitting at the table, playing gin. Wanda was standing at the kitchen sink.

"So?" said Martha. "Our lives won't be any better, or any worse, with his absence."

"Grandma, what a horrible thing to say!" she said sadly. "John's almost become one of us, and I will miss him."

"Baah, a Walnut never has to hide anything. This guy"—she pointed at John—"is ducking something."

"Mother, you don't know that," said Wanda.

"I know what I see," she snorted, "and he's never been square with us."

Jed got up from his seat and put his hand on John's shoulder. "John was simply interested in us, and didn't feel that his past was of importance."

"Baah, I'm telling you this guy is hiding something," she said again.

"Like what, Mother?" asked Wanda.

"You know those people that are living a normal life, and bingo, suddenly they're discovered? They turn out to be a criminal hiding from their past," Martha explained.

"Oh, Mother, you're always so melodramatic," said Danielle from the family room.

"What did you do during the war, John?"

"The war?"

"Yeah, the war," she said quickly. "I'll bet you went to Canada or something like that."

"I've never been to Canada."

"Just because you say it, don't make it so," she declared. "Like I said before, we'll be no better or worse off when you're gone."

"Actually, that's a compliment coming from a tyrant like you," said Danielle.

"What do you mean by that?" shouted Martha.

"A neutral response from you is a compliment. If there were any real issues with John, we'd hear about it."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"If I was really a tyrant," Martha finally said, "I'd have you all drug out and shot."

She turned to John. "You're a bum, John. I've never seen you do a lick of work."

"Mother, don't be so judgmental. You've only known him for two weeks," said Danielle. "And you should talk!"

"I'll have you know that raising all you kids was no picnic," she shot back.

Danielle laughed. "Mother, your entire life has been one big picnic."

"Well, he's never bought any beer."

"He doesn't drink any."

"He sure as hell does!" Martha bellowed. "He got drunk the first time I met him. And we've put him up and fed him all this time."

"Well, he's writing our story. I'd think you'd appreciate that."

"I haven't seen that guy write down one damn thing," Martha said, looking at John. "I can spot a fraud a mile away, and he's a fraud I tell you." She gave him the all-knowing look.

"I would think so," Jed added quickly, "considering you've attracted enough of them."

"Well, you can include yourself in there, Nut Head."

"What? I'm the one that's responsible for the luxurious life you've been able to lead."

"Luxurious!" screeched Martha. "You call this luxurious? I'll have you know that there are men that would have taken care of me in a much better manner than I've had to endure. And been grateful!"

"Yeah, they've all been grateful all right," he said, starting to walk away. "Grateful when you came back here."

"Grandpa," Heather shouted at his retreating figure. "That's mean."

Danielle was laughing at the comment.

"That old fool begged me to come back every time. Don't let him fool you," stated Martha.

"Mother, you two were made for each other. I doubt that there is anyone that could tolerate living with either one of you."

"Oh, you should talk," said Martha. "It's hard to figure out which way the men in your life are moving the quickest—trying to get into your knickers or trying to get out the door."

Heather laughed. "God! I wish that was true, but they all hang around way too long."

"You don't, either one of you, know what you're talking about," said Danielle. "My relationships are no different than anybody else's."

"Christ, there's so many of them, you can't even count, and you think that's normal?" said Martha. "The Nut Head and I have been together for over forty years now."

"Like I said, no one—"

"You hush! I've stayed on for the good of you kids," said Martha.

"Mother, you've walked out the door more than once," stated Danielle.

"And I've always come back."

"Because Dad always went and brought you back."

"I resent the implications!" Martha shouted. "And you couldn't possibly understand the longevity of a real relationship. And let me tell you something else—"

"Hey," said Danielle, "Blythe is great this time of year. Let's all take a drive to the river."

Martha glared at her. "I'm happy right here," she snarled.

"Oh, shut up, both of you!" cried Heather. "I know one thing—when I get married, it will be for good. I don't want to be like either one of you. All you ever think about is yourselves!"

"You think you're so smart. Wait until you have to deal with someone long-term!" said Danielle.

"Mother, all you attract is emotional adolescents."

"Can it, snot. You don't know diddly."

"Not! Oh, Mother, every guy you've ever been with is so childish."

"They are not!"

"That would be Bob," said Martha.

"Mother, they always behave badly," said Heather, "and when you're breaking up with them, they really go cuckoo!"

"Bob again," said Martha.

"Will you hush up?" Danielle told Martha, and then turned to Heather. "That's because they realize what they are going to have to live without."

"No, it's because they're all crazy to begin with," Heather said. "You pick the men that are half nuts, and then you finish them off."

"Bob again!" shouted Martha.

Danielle glared at Martha, and then turned back to Heather. "Hush, you little snot. You don't know anything about relationships."

"Not! I know what I see. What do you think, John?"

"I'd rather not comment," John replied sheepishly.

"See, John's not stupid. He thinks the same thing."

"I didn't say that," said John.

"Yes, you did! You refuse to say anything because you know it's the truth," said Heather.

"I don't want to offend anyone."

"Ha, see?" shouted Heather. "John doesn't want to offend you, Mother. Any man would have to be out of his gourd to get involved with you, and John, being the nice alien he is, doesn't want to hurt your feelings."

"John doesn't know squat," Danielle said.

"Mother! You have all these men after you, and you end up with the one that goes completely overboard, and is the biggest pain in the ass! They are all suffering from an inferiority complex, and they are never comfortable—and certainly not normal."

"Pool Booy!" Wanda shouted, beating Martha to the punch.

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"What do you think?" Jed asked John.

John hesitated again.

"Yeah, John," said Danielle, "come on. You're supposed to be perfect. Let's hear your opinion."

"He's far from perfect," Martha added.

"Well, come on, John," said Jed. "You're a Walnut in training, a position rarely attained, so tell us what you've learned so far."

John looked around. The Walnuts were waiting for something.

John looked to Wanda, who said, "Come on, John. I've trained you the best I could."

John smiled at her and nodded his head in agreement.

He turned to Danielle and took a deep breath. "It seems that you allow men to pick you, not the other way around. That might be the cause of your difficultly."

"What the hell do you know?" Danielle growled.

"I've seen some of your male friends, and they exhibit extreme, often unrealistic, behavior to possess you. It's a common occurrence with these types of men. You might not take notice because you're used to it."

"Bob and Poool Booy!" everyone said in amazing unison.

Danielle stood glaring.

"Actually, Poool Booy called this morning,'' Jed said flatly.

"Oh, geez, what time was that?" asked Danielle.

"About seven."

"Thanks for not waking me up."

"He didn't want to talk to you." Jed's tone was still low-key.

"Well, what did he want then?"

"He wanted to assure me," Jed said, smirking, "that we wouldn't have to worry about you anymore. That he's going to take care of you in a manner that you deserve."

Danielle giggled. "Oh, how sweet!"

"Sounds good to me," Martha scoffed. "And we won't have to go far to see you."

"Why do you say that?" asked Wanda.

"Because, according to Pool Boy, she'll be living right next door on that great big ranch he's building."

"I hope she can get used to living in a cardboard box," Jed said, getting up.

*

"You definitely have to go?" Danielle asked John. They were sitting down at the lake.

"Yes."

"Will we ever see you again?"

"It's not likely," he said quietly.

"How can you be so smug? Don't the last couple of weeks mean anything to you?" Danielle was angry.

"They mean a great deal to me." John turned and looked at her.

"But, yet, you can just walk away and not look back?"

"I still have to write the book. I will be thinking about you all constantly for a long time to come."

"Why don't you just stay?"

"I can't, I already explained that."

"Well, then come back when you can."

"I can't."

"And you can't explain why?"

John was silent.

"What did you expect to do here, John?" Danielle asked meanly, getting to her feet.

"I don't know what you mean?"

"You figured that you'd sneak into someone's life, take what you wanted, and then disappear?" she said with her hands on her hips, glaring down at him.

"It looks like I've done that?"

"John, it doesn't just look like it. That's exactly what you're doing."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry too, sorry for you. The Walnuts rarely let someone into our inner circle. It's an honor, you know, and you're blowing it!"

Danielle walked away, having said her piece.

*

John stood on the porch, looking out over the lake.

"She really cares about you."

John turned to see Martha standing in the doorway.

"It seems that way," he said.

"You don't share her feelings?" Martha was not looking for an altercation, but was being sincere.

"I do, but I made a mistake—"

"And got a little too involved," she added. "And before you knew it, it was a problem."

"Pretty much."

"It's the same thing the Walnuts do over and over and over. We can't resist having a little fun, but when it comes time to pay the price, we flee. I guess you made the grade, Space John."

Martha walked back into the house, leaving him on the porch by himself. He turned to the Northwest and looked at the sky, toward home.

Chapter 22

The next morning John was up early, standing down at the lake watching the ducks. Jed went out onto the porch and saw him down at the water. He walked down to him.

"Camper just called. He'll be here about noon to pick you up."

"Thank you."

Jed stood there watching the same ducks. "I guess there isn't much to say."

"Yeah." John sighed. "I don't know where I would start."

"Oh, John, don't take it so serious. You came, did your thing, and now it's time to go. You don't owe anybody any explanations. We enjoyed your company, you enjoyed ours. It couldn't have gone any better as far as Martha and I are concerned. If there is ever a chance that you get to come back, you know where you're welcome," Jed said and walked away.

*

John stayed down at the lake for a long time, thinking about the Walnuts and how to tell the story. He finally went back to the house because Camper would be coming soon. The only one in the family room was Wanda.

"Got it all figured out?" Wanda asked him.

"Not even close."

"Good. I hate to think that someone could ever be at peace with their surroundings."

"You don't think it's possible?"

"I don't know what it's like where you call home, but not here."

John nodded.

"Danielle's really pissed at you, by the way."

"I feel really bad about that."

"Don't."

"But—"

"But what?" exclaimed Wanda. "She's pissed that she can't get you to chase her skirt. It's about time she got interested in something solid. I know I'm guilty of the same thing. We're both just like Mother, except Mother got extremely lucky and snagged Dad. Danielle and I just get stuck with the leftovers."

"Where is she?"

"She went home."

"Will you tell her goodbye for me?"

"You should do that yourself."

The doorbell for the backdoor rang, and Wanda got up and went to the hall, looking down it. "What do you want?" she yelled at the tall, good-looking Ray Camper standing behind the screen door.

"I'm here to get John Helms," he said.

"Come on in." She turned to John. "Your ride's here."

Martha and Jed came down the great hall, arriving at the intersection at the same time as Camper.

"Well, hey there, jackass!" Martha said sharply to Camper "I don't really care to see your sorry butt again, especially now that you're here to drag John off."

"You've taken a liking to John?" Camper asked.

"What? You thought it was our shortcomings that came between us?" said Martha. "No, Ray, it was your lousy approach!"

"I'm glad to see you're feeling well," Camper shot back at her, then looked at John. "How did you manage to get around Martha's two options?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" asked Martha.

"It's either your way or hell to pay," said Camper.

Jed was standing right behind Martha and started laughing. Martha turned and glared at him.

"How you doing, Camper?" Jed said, still chuckling.

"Pretty good, Jed."

Wanda looked intently at Camper and said, "Hey, you're damn good-looking. I could use an alien for myself."

Camper shot John a concerned look.

"They're convinced I'm from a different planet," said John with a shrug.

"Hell," Camper responded, "if I didn't know better, and had just met you, I'd probably think the same thing."

"Oh, give it up, you two," said Martha. "I really don't care what the hell your stories are. If you haven't enough respect for us to tell the truth, then I'm glad you're out of our lives." Martha turned on her heel and went back down the hall, never looking back.

"You heading back home too?" Wanda asked Camper.

"No, I'm here for quite a while."

"Interesting," said Wanda.

"We have to leave, John. We've got a lot of driving to do," Camper said quickly.

*

Jed was on his four-wheeler down at Harold's gate. He was talking to Harold when Camper's car came toward them.

"He's leaving?" asked Harold.

"Yeah, going home," Jed said kind of sadly.

"He ever tell you where he was from?" asked Harold.

"No, but I figured it out."

Camper's car approached and slowed. The driver's window slid down. John leaned over to the driver's side. "Really gonna miss you, Jed."

"Remember, John, you always have a place," Jed shouted as the car rolled by. "Don't be a stranger, Camper!"

The car sped up, leaving Ranch de Los Retardos behind.

"Goddamn, Jed," complained Harold, "you get all the good ones."

"I thought you'd be glad to see our place clear out," Jed said, watching the car reach the end of the lane and turn onto the main road.

"Hell no! A guy that could be an alien, a woman that could be a countess . . . and you get up early in the morning to burn a crop of marijuana. The list goes on and on. Madeline and I can't ever best that."

"Really?" Jed looked at Harold. "Tell you what. The next batch of looneys that comes through our gate, we're sending to you."

"You promise?"

*

John watched the ranch gradually disappear until it was completely out of sight.

"Get what you were looking for?" Camper asked.

"Huh?" John was distracted momentarily. "Oh, yeah." He hesitated. "Actually, I got more than I bargained for. I think that's the proper expression. Are we heading for the pickup?"

"I promised I'd stop at Danielle's first because Heather wants to say goodbye. And if I didn't, she'd never forgive me."

"She's a great kid," John said.

"Yes, she is." Ray paused, thinking. "So the Walnuts apparently took you in?"

"Yes, it seems that way. They're good people."

"Yes, they are. Who's the Wanda gal?"

"The sister. She was a tremendous help. She explained a lot of the family dynamics. You should contact her." John hesitated. "If that's okay, I mean."

"It's okay."

"Is Danielle there?"

"She said she wouldn't be."

"Oh."

"But she is, and you have a problem."

"Oh?" John sounded concerned.

"So how did you fare with Ricky the Rat?" asked Camper.

"I like him."

"Yeah? I'm fairly sure his mission in life is to keep it exciting for everyone."

"He does a very good job."

*

Camper and John arrived at Danielle's. Heather saw them and went running out.

"Joohhhnnn!" she yelled, sort of skimming down the sidewalk. She ran up and hugged him. "I was afraid Camper wouldn't stop," she said, still holding him. She released him and grabbed his hand. "Come on, we can take a short walk." Heather pulled John down the sidewalk.

"Excited to get on your way home?" she asked.

"Yes." John sounded a little melancholy.

"How long will it take?"

"I don't know. It depends on how many stops we make."

"My mother wants to go." Heather sounded concerned.

John stopped. He didn't say anything for a moment. "It's not possible," he finally said apprehensively.

"I know that," Heather sighed. "Camper tried to explain that to her last night, but you don't know my mother when she's determined."

"Why is she so determined? Her life is here."

"She's not thinking of her life. She's focused on an adventure, and that's all that matters right now. John, she's a damn Walnut. Didn't you learn anything?"

"If I convince her it's foolish . . . if I make sense—"

"The more sense you make, the more determined she's going to get."

"Oh, boy, I'll have to talk her out of it. Oh, boy."

"Don't let her talk you into it, John. I love my mother. I don't want her running off, and I'll never see her again."

"I told you it is impossible."

*

John opened the door and went inside to talk to Danielle. Camper and Heather agreed to wait outside. John had no idea what was going to happen or what he was going to do, but Danielle deserved the attempt.

"Hello!" John shouted, standing in the kitchen.

There was no answer.

"Helllooo!" he shouted louder.

"I'm not deaf. You don't have to be rude," Danielle called from the bedroom.

"Is it okay to come in?" He asked loudly.

"It's better than shouting at me. That is so annoying."

John made his way to the bedroom and looked in. Danielle was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, putting on her makeup.

"Come to say goodbye?" she said flatly.

"Yes."

"Well?"

"I figured you'd want some sort of explanation."

"Why?"

"I guess you considered going with me, but you know it is impossible."

"Nothing is impossible."

"This is."

"Oh, I see. You and I become friends, and you're . . . you're just leaving."

"Danielle, I don't know how to explain it any better. I don't live here and I have to go."

"Back to your wife?"

"Yes, back to my wife."

"Tell Camper to get his ass in here."

*

Camper and John stood in the bedroom, where Danielle confronted them.

"You're both liars," she said calmly.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," said John.

"Do you want to leave knowing that's what I feel?" she asked.

"No, but—," said John.

"I want to see you go," she said.

Camper and John just stood there without responding.

"Why not? What's the big deal?" Danielle faced John. "You step into a spaceship and I'll know that you were sincere, and not just yanking my chain."

John turned to Camper, who just shrugged.

"I don't know what the travel agency is going to say if we go through with something like that," Ray told John.

"What travel agency? You're still trying to dupe me!" screamed Danielle. "I won't stand for this!" She pointed to the door. "Get out! I don't ever want to see either one of you ever again, you got me?"

John and Camper went out of the bedroom, and Danielle slammed the door.

They went outside and stood on the sidewalk.

"I don't want to leave it like this," said John.

"I'm not going anywhere," said Camper. "I don't want to end it like this either, because I like those two in there."

"What do you think the squirts will do if we show up with her?" asked John.

"I don't know? I know they won't hurt her. It's going to scare the hell out of her, though." Camper paused. "I think she's convinced we're a couple of scam artists. When that ship comes down, I don't know."

"I won't be comfortable leaving," John said, "until she knows the truth."

*

"You've got to be kidding," Danielle said after they had stopped and gotten out of the car. "This isn't the end of the world, but if it was light out, I'm sure you could see it from here."

"This is where John will start his journey home," said Camper.

It was pitch black. The sound of insects and wind rustling the leaves on the trees stimulated the senses.

"Out in the middle of nowhere?" Danielle sounded skeptical. "I can't see anything, and these people can find us?"

"Yes, they can find us," said Camper.

Danielle walked forward, looking up. She stopped, finding a spot where the foliage was open enough for her to see the sky. "Oh, look at the stars. They're so bright way out here."

"About a minute," said Camper.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"They just signaled me."

Camper walked up behind her and showed her a cell phone.

John had walked up next to them in the dark. "It was a really special time," he said and took Danielle's hand in his.

"It was something to do," Danielle replied flatly. She didn't add any pressure to her hand in John's. She just looked up to the sky, apparently not wanting to talk, so John was quiet as well.

They stood silent, not talking.

Then the insects went silent, and the wind died.

All of a sudden, Danielle gasped and grabbed John's hand tightly.

"Oh—my—God," she whispered. "Something huge is coming down on us."

She moved tightly against John, leaning into his shoulder. She was shaking. "The stars are going out," she whispered, like she was afraid the sound of her voice was going to ruin something.

"Oh—my—God," she repeated softly. "You were telling the truth." She looked up in awe. "Are you going home on that?" She released her tight grasp on John and pointed. "It's so big."

"Yes." John hesitated. "I guess this is goodbye, my friend."

He pulled her to him and hugged her tightly. At first she didn't really respond, but just before John was about to loosen his grasp, Danielle held him tightly. They stayed that way for a moment, and then John pulled back.

"I have to go," he said softly, still holding her hand. He wiped a tear from her cheek, smiled, and turned away.

Danielle was silent as she watched John walk into the darkness.

A brilliant shaft of bright blue light flashed on with an accompanying screech, and Danielle jumped and gasped. The light glowed from the giant ship to the ground. John calmly walked toward the intense light and then into it, his form slowly dissolved its human shape and became a dark blue orb.

As the orb gently rose toward the gigantic ship above, Danielle began to cry softly, extending her hand. She moved forward to the light, but stopped herself, and then repeated the motion again.

"I can't believe this is happening," she whispered, crying.

Ray put his arm around her, pulling her into his shoulder and looking down at her. He spoke gently. "We're so sorry it had to end like this. John wished he could have told the truth before it came to this."

Danielle looked up at Ray, tears streaking her face. "Oh, don't grovel. I'm a big girl, and you know, I knew it all along."

She turned back just as the orb disappeared into the source of the light shaft. Then there was a screech and it was gone.

A downward blast of hot air sent dirt and leaves scattering.

"For the first time in my life, I picked a man," she said, reaching out toward the departing spaceship. Tears streamed down her face.

"He didn't pick me," she wailed. "I picked him,"

########

Robin Lagrange & Ron Zastre 09/28/2011

It's hard to define the Walnuts as fiction or none fiction because it is both. My long and dear friend Robin(Danielle) was an integral part of the story because she and the Walnuts were real. Many of the incidents are added to, somewhat, and the time line is condensed, but many parts are factual. As for myself; I am sort of Space John because I was present many of the times and am known to be aloof also. Although I'm not from another planet, I'm not too excited to be from this one when I see how things are done here.

Biography

I was born in Winnipeg, Canada on 11/29/47. My father was a golf course superintendent there, and when I was seven, we moved to Fargo N.D. where my father took over the duties at the Fargo Country Club. I played a lot of golf and had a great time living at the course. I can still hit the crap out of the ball, but can't score. So what else is new?

I graduated from high school in Fargo and then joined the Marines. I was a Scout-sniper in Vietnam and saw considerable action and can say, "Combat is a great teacher, provided it doesn't leave one scarred and unable to go on."

I went into the golf business, first as a superintendent/designer, then as a builder. I also taught the ever elusive golf swing and do understand it. I began writing in the business format, doing instruction manuals and design work for Manta Cars, and then shifted to entertainment: news paper, magazines, then novels, and finally screen plays.

I wrote a golf book, 'the Balance Swing', and wrote, produced, directed, edited and starred in a matching video. I've also written three additional novels: Timtown, The Searching Soul, and Billy Palmer. All four novels have screen plays.

I am presently working on a 1960's rock and roll musical with fast cars and original songs as the theme.

While working the designing and constructing businesses, I stood my ground many years ago and proclaimed my competition was irresponsible and money grubbing. I was vindicated later when an associate, who defined my complaints as counter productive, came to me and said, "Ronski, you were right, weren't you?" I saved close to ten-thousand beautiful, jungle trees on a golf course project, on Guam.

I've always been green because when I lived outside of Fargo, I noticed the trees starting to bud a day early in town one spring. I asked my father and he said, "Obviously it is warmer in town," This was 1957, when I was eight, and already I understood global warming.

I've have had all the toys, but only for the experience of playing with them, never for just having them. I haven't owned a car in seven years and my bike is my best friend.

I currently live in Palm Desert, CA because I'd rather be hot than cold.

