Posted: May 26, 08 7:33pm
Not looking for critique...it's just a fun little story that was hanging around for awhile...hope it's good. (Prince liked it.)
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It was mid afternoon in late October, when Skip drove his pickup down the gravel driveway, ending at the small, white frame cottage.
Opening the back door to the house, Prince, his over-sized Golden Retriever, burst through, nearly knocking him over and dashed to the truck patch, relieving himself on the Brussels Sprouts. Skip was puzzled as to why Prince always selected them, as opposed to the other vegetables in the garden, and also as to why he caused no apparent damage to them.
He made a mental note, however, not to eat them - instead, he’d give them to his brother - payback for that incident last August.
Semi-isolated, and situated at the edge of a national park, the little house was surrounded by forest - now brilliantly painted in fall colors. Secluded, but not too far from civilization, his cottage was one of 5 others who shared this small, rural enclave. All of his neighbors were retired, except for Cletis Browne and himself, so life was usually pretty calm and quiet. Prince trotted back and gave him a proper greeting this time, which included a few choreographed rounds of simulated wrestling and semi-tough, growling - emanating from both of them.
An hour later, the final cookout of the season was well underway. Skip, hunkered down in an adirondack lounger, peering lazily through two beers at the setting sun, was startled back to reality as Superman and a Fairy Princess appeared from around the corner, carrying shopping bags and yelling “Trick or treat” in unison.
Also caught off guard, Prince jumped up – confused and howling. He crept warily toward the costumed kids, first examining Superman and then turning his attention to the Fairy Princess, who promptly swung her candy bag and hit him squarely on the side of his head.
“Sit!” she insisted. Prince didn’t.
“Trick or treat!” they demanded, again.
Skip regarded them cautiously, as they were very young children - four or 5 years old, at most, he guessed. Wondering where their parents were and how they made it into the back yard on their own, he went back into the house, on his way to check out the front yard, when the phone rang.
It was Debbie, his girlfriend, who immediately launched into a non-stop verbal tirade - something about her mother, her weight, and a comment that he may have made about both, that had gotten back to dear old mom.
Forced to listen, and unable to get a word in, he sat down at the table until the front door bell rang. Through the screen door, he could see a very tall, heavyset man with a concerned look on his face, trying to see into the house.
Assuming this was a missing parent, he motioned the man to go around to the back yard. The onslaught from Debbie continued, as he absently looked out the kitchen window.
Superman was sitting in his chair, watching intently, as the Fairy Princess climbed the picnic table bench, in pursuit of a large platter of barbequed ribs and pork chops, in the center of the table.
She also had the complete, and undivided attention of Prince, who had for now, at least, set aside the candy bag incident.
Skip watched as the Fairy Princess grabbed a sauce-laden pork chop and sat back down on the bench. On her first bite, a large glob of red sauce smeared across her mouth and down the front of her costume.
As she regarded this mess, Prince made his move - he snapped at the pork chop, but she would not let go. A tug of war ensued, with the Fairy Princess screaming loudly “No!”, repeatedly, at Prince.
To young Superman, it appeared that his little sister was being attacked. Assuming the heroic qualities of his namesake, he rose from the chair, red cape flying, jumped and landed squarely on Prince’s back, arms tightly wrapped around his neck.
When dad came around the corner, the picture of his screaming, and apparently blood-soaked daughter, along with his young son, physically engaged in mortal combat with a very large dog, was immediate cause for action, and the battle was quickly joined.
Skip, now ignoring Debbie, stared in stunned silence, as Prince, with a sudden head snap, shook loose the pork chop from the Fairy Princess’ grip, and with Superman firmly attached to his back and biting his ear, spun around to make his escape.
His path blocked by Dad, Prince bared his teeth and growled, loudly. This gave pause to Dad, just long enough for Prince to charge between his legs, causing his unwanted passenger to crash head first into a very sensitive part of his father’s lower anatomy, and then drop hard, to the ground.
Dad bent forward, tripped over his son, hit his head on the corner of the picnic table and laid very still.
“Uhhhhh…I’ll call you back.” Skip hung up the phone.
As he made his way to check on Dad, a woman came around the corner and screamed. This would be Mom, thought Skip.
Mom ran to Superman first, who was laying on the grass, holding his head, and crying loudly, a result of the fall. Next, she checked the Fairy Princess, also crying, for no apparent reason, at the top of her lungs. The woman regarded her fallen husband’s motionless body for a moment, and then turned to confront Skip.
She stood motionless, staring wide-eyed, lips trembling, gasping for breath, and trying to speak, but nothing came out.
“Lady, is this your husband? He’s been hurt…we need to turn him over. Give me a hand, will you?”
Instead, she said nothing as she turned and walked back toward the children. Skip tried to turn the man over, but he was dead weight. He continued until he felt a heavy blow land on the back of his neck from behind, sending him sprawling, face down across her husband’s body.
When he looked up, the woman was standing over him, holding a large, thick, tree branch, a look of hatred in her eyes. She swung the branch again, barely missing Skip as he rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet. Her husband was not so lucky - except for the fact that he was currently unconscious, and would probably not feel the effect of this strike until sometime later.
“Lady, stop! What are you doing? Are you crazy? Stop!
Oblivious to his words, she took a baseball style swing at Skip, who took the brunt of it on his left arm. Quickly reaching out, he grabbed the branch and tried to wrest it from her, to no avail. Remarkably strong, he thought, she clung fiercely, gritting her teeth and tried, numerous times, to kick him as they pushed and pulled each other around the yard, in a bizarre dance, each trying to gain control of the branch.
At the same time, not far away, seventy two year old Marge Stoneman was pulling weeds at the back of her property. All of the barking, yelling, and crying, had broken the general peace of the small neighborhood, drawing her attention to the activity at Skip’s. Although Marge’s hearing was good, her vision wasn’t – especially from a distance. Her diminished view of Skip’s encounter with the woman, brandishing a long-handled weapon of some sort, she assumed, along with the blurred image of Dad laying on the ground (apparently dead, she decided), led her to conclude that she was witnessing an axe murder in progress – and promptly notified the park police.
Meanwhile, Skip, in another attempt to force the woman to release her grip, jerked her forward, then down, and finally, came straight up with the branch, accidentally delivering a powerful uppercut that landed on her chin, effectively ending the fight, and her consciousness. Skip watched as she collapsed into the grass.
Stunned, he surveyed the aftermath of the battle in the waning daylight.
The man was beginning to stir a little, Superman was sitting up, holding his head and whimpering, Mom, thankfully, was still unconscious, and the Fairy Princess, was hand feeding pork chops and candy to Prince, who had somehow, become her new best friend during all of this.
“Well done, Attila… looks like you’ve defeated the barbarian hordes”, Cletis drawled, as he walked up behind him. “What the hell happened, here, bud?”
Skip just looked at him – “Jeez, Clete, I don’t know…it all happened so fast. I need to call the police.” Skip turned and walked back to the house. In the kitchen, as he picked up the handset, he saw the front yard, suddenly awash in flashing, blue lights, heard car doors slamming, and the sound of running footsteps on the gravel moving towards the back.
A shadowy figure in a helmet appeared on the front porch, pointing a rifle at him through the screen door.
“GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! NOW!
Thirty minutes later, after all participants, were fully conscious, appropriate medical care dispensed (all survived), and the SWAT team had withdrawn, Skip, Mom, Dad, and police officer Tipton sat at the kitchen table while Tipton took information and wrote reports.
Alex, the children’s father, was drumming his fingers, impatiently and staring out the back door. His wife, Ann Marie, was glaring at Skip with that same hateful look she had during the fight. Skip glared back.
Alex began by threatening Skip with a variety of criminal and civil lawsuits and ended with a specific plan of action that would be enormously detrimental to Skip’s (and Prince’s) overall well being.
Tipton looked up from his report at Alex.
Until now, Skip was hoping to let everything go – write it off as the misunderstanding it was, and move on. However, Alex’s threats, Anne Marie’s continued antagonism, and the memory of being clubbed from behind, changed all that.
Skip responded. “Officer I want to press charges – terroristic threatening, trespassing, animal cruelty, child endangerment” and looking at Anne Marie, “assault and battery. And… if it’s illegal to be a big, fat, dumb ass in this state, or to be married to one, I want to include that, as well.”
It was probably the last part of that statement that caused Alex to go ballistic. Skip was able to quickly dive out of the way, as the large, clumsy, man launched from his seat, tripped over his own feet, and crashed headfirst into the sink cabinet, adding to the damage already done to his head, previously, in his unsuccessful bout with the picnic table.
Tipton and another officer reacted swiftly, by piling on top of the floored Alex. During their struggle, Anne Marie went after Skip… again. This time, though, without the element of surprise (or a weapon), she was no match. Skip easily pushed her onto the pile, landing on Officer Tipton’s back, and was later charged with an ‘assault on a police officer‘.
Later, that evening, after the police and their prisoners had left, Skip wearily answered the phone.
“You (expletive deleted)!” ranted Debbie. “Who the (expletive deleted) do you think you are, you (expletive deleted), scum sucking, (expletive deleted) piece of (expletive deleted)! Don’t you ever (expletive deleted) hang up on me…
The doorbell rang.
Skip set the phone down and answered the door.
A chorus of “Trick or treat!” sung by a group of large ninja turtles greeted him.
“Just a moment, guys”. With a sigh, he closed the door, hung up the phone, and went looking for Prince, a beer, and his Glock…in no particular order.
