Ticket To Happiness or the Self-Indulgent Truth?

By Reid Laurence

Introduction

I was walking through the woods one day not long ago, when a man who appeared to have something important on his mind came up to me, and out of nowhere, struck up a friendly conversation. I say, out of nowhere because having come from Chicago, when somebody suddenly approaches you like that, you brace yourself and get ready for what could be, a very unpleasant situation. But after seeing that he had two big green pods in his hands, I dropped my guard a bit, and began to wonder just what in the world these things could be. I guessed that they were either walnuts or chestnuts but he said no to both, and began talking to me about their origin and what they meant to the people in the Ozark region... “Nope,” he began. “They ain’t chestnuts or walnuts. They’re buckeyes.” “Can I eat ‘em?” I asked, feeling assured that I’d asked a reasonable question because I thought, after all, since they looked so much like chestnuts, then surely they must be edible. But he answered with a smile on his face and a firm, “No. Can’t eat ‘em. Squirrels eat ‘em but not people.” “Well, what are they for then?” I questioned, feeling just a little let down that I hadn’t just discovered a new culinary delight. “They’re for good luck,” he said. “Hillbillies around here keep ‘em in their pockets. Imma hillbilly. I keep one in mah pocket too. Where ya from?” he asked suddenly. “Chicago,” I answered, “but I’m a hillbilly too now. At least, a hillbilly-in-progress.” He laughed at my jest and continued... “You keep ‘em. Put one in yer pocket an give one ta yer wife,” he said, taking note of my better half now seated in our family sedan, waiting for me. “Give this to ‘er,” he said, putting both buckeyes in my hands, then taking a step back as our conversation came to a close. “You’re sure I can’t eat ‘em?” I asked again, as he started to walk away. Who knows why really, maybe I asked him one more time just for good luck. “Ah’m sure. Just keep it in yer pocket.” Getting into the car, I started to explain to my wife what had just happened and before I could tell her what these big green pods were, what do you think she asked me? “Can you eat ‘em?” she said, innocently enough. “Nope.” “Then whaddaya do with ‘em?” “Ya peel ‘em,” I said, “and keep ‘em in your pocket for good luck. But Mary?” I asked, starting the car and turning to meet her eyes with mine. “You think my luck will change and actually get better?” “Maybe so,” she answered. “Guess we’ll just have ta wait an see.”

Chapter 1

On my many walks around the downtown area of Springfield Missouri, I often passed the same gas station. In the late morning and early afternoon, only a trickle of customers came wandering through the big, electric glass doors and since this day was so far, not any different then any other, I found myself walking in, just to beat the heat, at about ten a.m. on a hot, sweaty Wednesday. Feeling the rush of cool, almost cold air over my skin was in drastic contrast to the nearly one hundred degree day outside, and I welcomed the sudden change in temperature, which all at once revitalized me and sharpened my senses to my surroundings. Walking over to the tall, refrigerated cases of juice drinks and beer, I made my selection and was just thinking of taking it to the cashier, when a conversation between two men seated near the door caught my attention, and momentarily took my mind off what I was doing. “Gonna play Powerball this time?” asked one of the men, bearded and rough looking around the edges, like a fur trapper out of the mid nineteenth century. “Nope,” replied his friend, tugging on the shoulder straps of the denim overalls he had on with his thumbs, staring out the window at the passing cars and trucks. “Ah’m not feel’in up ta Powerball taday. Gonna try my luck at somethin else. Lotto ah think. Besides,” continued the scruffy man. “Everyone in the Ozarks been at Powerball lately. Damn game’s played out if ya ask me, an Lotto’s just a buck for two plays. Wait here,” he said, rising from his seat, walking a direct, determined path between himself and the waiting cashier. Coincidentally, I reached down into my front pockets looking for the few single dollar bills I thought I carried with me when by chance, my left hand came across the buckeye, given to me just one day before. Bringing it out into the light, my first reaction was to put my thumb over it and rub it, but for what, I thought? At the time, I believed it was just a natural reaction of mine to subconsciously want to run my thumb over something that had such a smooth surface. But in the moments that followed, I began to think there might be some other, much deeper reason involved. A reason I later came to think of as destiny. And my destiny or fate, whichever the word you choose to call it, took an incredible turn that day. But for better or for worse, I still can’t decide. I guess, it’s all in how you look at it. Stepping up to the cashier, I set my bottle of juice on the counter and awkwardly searched for the last two dollars to my name at the bottom of my pocket. Bringing out the crumpled bills, I unfolded them and put them on the counter, waiting for the cashier to tell me exactly what the tab was. “Dollar thirty-nine,” he said, smiling, leaning his weight on his hands as he rested them on the top of the glass counter. “Feel’in lucky taday?” he continued. “Lotto’s worth an even mil. Wanna give it a shot?” “No,” I answered in a low, shy and muted tone. “I don’t think so.” “What’s that?” he replied, leaning his head forward in an effort to hear me better. “No game taday?” “Well... I don’t know. I’ve never played before. Just thought it was a waste of money. Whaddaya think?” I said, hesitating. “Which one would you play if you were gonna try?” “Like I said, Lotto’s jackpot starts out at a cool million bucks. Gets better’n that if nobody wins it before Saturday. I’d give Lotto a try if I were you. Only a buck for two plays. That’s what I’d do... Lotto.” “Well... hold on now. That is a lot of money isn’t it,” I said, fishing through the bottoms of my pockets for any loose change I might be hiding. Finding three dimes and one lonely nickel, I laid them on the counter and told the cashier, “I’m short four cents. Doesn’t look like I’m gonna play taday. Maybe it’s just someone’s way of telling me not to, who knows.” “It’s okay, I got it,” he said. Then, almost without hesitation and as if the thought were predetermined, he reached into a small dish of pennies near the register and pulled out the four I needed to complete the transaction. “Looks like this here’s yer lucky day sir,” he continued, as he handed me the Lotto play slip. “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “What do I do now?” “Just pick two sets a six different numbers like it says,” he said, as I turned to leave with my head pointed down at the ticket in my hands. “Hey mister, don’t forget yer juice. You paid fer it.” “Right,” I answered. “Thanks, I was forgetting it wasn’t I.” “Hey, I forget all the time. Probably forget my head if it wasn’t attached. Anyways, yer on yer way now ain’tcha. Good luck!” “Thanks,” I said, and in picking up the cold bottle with my right hand, I walked back through the electronic double doors and at once felt the odd sensation that I’d somehow sealed a deal. But as the intense heat of the sun began to change the temperature of my skin back to the uncomfortable level I’d felt when I’d walked in, I slowly began to forget about the purchase I’d just made, stuffed the ticket in my pocket, and began instead to think of the mile or so I had to go to reach the air-conditioned comfort of our humble, small house. Twisting open the cap of the bottle, I took a long chug of the cold drink, and set a course for home.

“Where were you?” asked my wife, as I pulled open our sliding glass door and walked into the dining room. “Just tak’in my morning constitutional,” I replied. “What’s new?” “Nut’in much. I thought you were gonna wait for me,” said Mary, sitting on the living room sofa, watching her favorite morning TV shows. “Now I’ll have to get on the treadmill instead.” “Sorry,” I answered. “Just wanted some fresh air and you were still sleeping. Why don’t we go to Wilson’s Creek,” I offered, in an effort to appease her. “You talked me into it. I’ll meet you in the car.” Getting to the car after talking about taking a walk was no easy task. Daisy - one of our dogs - always seemed to know what we were up to and if one of us mentioned a walk, she’d come up to me and stare at me with those big brown eyes of hers, giving me a sad look that always seemed to say, what about me? Why can’t I go? Then, automatically and to relieve my guilt, I’d put the ball in Mary’s court and have her make the final decision on wether or not to take the dogs with. “No, they’ll ruin it,” was Mary’s stock reply. Since neither of our four dogs could calm down long enough to stop pulling us along on their leashes, we usually chose not to take them with. Later in the day, I’d have to bring them on separate walks around the immediate neighbor-hood, without the company of my wife, and all the while being dragged from lawn to lawn as they sniff their way around, following their noses with complete disregard for me, their tried and true master. “They’ll pull our arms out,” she continued to say. “You know that. C’mon, lets go.” “Yeah, but look at her,” I said, pleading my case on Daisy’s behalf. “She’s giving me that sad look again. What am I supposed to do about it?” “Get in the car, that’s what.”

Wilson’s Creek - a place we like to walk around, not too far from our home - is an old Civil War battlefield, set aside by the federal government as a vast seventeen-hundred and fifty acre state park where people can hike on trails, ride their horses or drive around to check out the many locations in which North and South clashed one hot day in late August, shedding their blood all in one terrible effort to just plain, get their own way. Running into each others rifle fire, getting cut to pieces by canister - designed to explode and send its contents of metal fragments hurtling through space and flesh alike - or getting mowed down by cannon balls, all were the methods of the day, and all were equally as hazard-ous to a young mans health, many of whom died on that field, some one-hundred forty-five years ago. But now, in the present day world, we’ve been given the opportunity to think over the results of their actions, and we - for the most part I believe - can appreciate what they did for us, in freeing an entire race of people put to slavery, and in bringing together each state of an otherwise divided Union, can hold their memory in great esteem, and respect those who so bravely gave their lives to defend our constitution and the fundamental reasons for the creation of a free nation, the United States of America. Arriving at the park, I pulled the car into one of the many places to stop along. Getting out, I took a deep drag of fresh country air and wondered what the action of combat must have been like. On occasion, I’ve questioned myself, and wondered how I would’ve performed given such conditions as those these young men were faced with. Even though I disagreed with those who fought to defend the south, I have to admit, they fought bravely, as bravely as any Union soldier. After all, that’s what made the war so long and horrible isn’t it? The conviction one has to fight, given a certain set of circumstances and the struggle to forge new policies into the law of the land until, beyond reproach, you’ve beaten down the enemy and won your way. Evidently, all that really is necessary to start a war is a grave difference of opinion, and at the time, there were many such differences. “Pretty, isn’t it?” asked Mary, looking out over the great expanse of lush green grass and rolling hills, unable to tell exactly where the huge park begins and where it ends for all of the open land around us. “It’s great,” I answered, with my arms folded across my chest, having caught me in a mood of contemplation, thinking over the war and its participants. “It’s a beautiful day too. I was just thinking about all the people who died here, probably on a sunny, pretty day just like this one. Strange, isn’t it?” “How do you mean?” “Just strange how people can fight and die on otherwise calm, pretty days like today. When I think of men and boys dying at war, I think of cold, grey weather, but that isn’t necessarily so is it?” “Yeah, I guess. C’mon,” answered Mary, anxious to get on with our walk. “Snap out of it. Enjoy the day. Just be glad you didn’t have to go to war.” “You’re not kidd’in,” I replied. “I lucked out.” But still, inside, I couldn’t help wondering what I would have done at the time. Would I have fought bravely, or would I have turned tail and run the other way? I like to think not. On our way to a hiking trail, we came across one of the authentic cannon that took up strategic locations against each other on that day. Walking to its side, I ran my hand over the dark, heavy, cast iron barrel of the gun and noticed a date stamped into it which read; 1861. Still trained on a position called Bloody Hill for all the men who died there, I strained to see through the trees that had grown in over the past century and a half to get an idea of what it must’ve been like back then. It made me wonder how in the world - between all the screaming, shouting, rifle fire and cannon bursts - did soldiers manage to keep from shooting the wrong people? I suppose they sometimes did, and that day in August must’ve been no different. What a terrible feeling that had to have been, to later find out that some of the bodies you piled up were men fighting on your own side. What do you say? Oops, sorry? Walking down a steep trail, we left the antique, muted weapon to itself. Fossil hunting was a priority on our list of things to do, and as I kneeled and began searching for the ancient impressions of bones we still have never found to this day, my cell phone suddenly began ringing a tune in my pocket...The first few lines from; It’s A Small World After All played over and over until - before we both nearly went nuts - I opened it and took the call. “Hello,” I said as I usually did. “Who is it?” “It’s your realtor,” answered the caller. “I have a contract for you to sign.” Hmm, I thought to myself. I know our house is up for sale, but he couldn’t have sold it this fast. Only a few months had gone by since we’d hired a realtor and signed a contract with him, granting him exclusive rights to sell the home. “I don’t understand John,” I said into the phone. “What kind of contract?” After telling the Broker I did home inspections just a few days prior, I thought he’d found someone who wanted one. I was about to say thanks for referring me, but his response to my question was something I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams. “What do you mean, what kind of contract? I sold your house, that’s what kind. When can we meet? I need you and your wife to sign.” Dropping the phone from my ear, my arm-hanging limp at my side, I turned to Mary and told her the news. “Do you believe it? He sold the house. I’m in shock.” “Holy shit,” she answered. “He sold our crummy old dump. What now?” “We meet him, I guess.” “John,” I said into the phone. “Are you still there?” “Yes, when can we meet?” “How about an hour,” I replied. “I’m in the middle of Wilson’s Creek battlefield. We never expected you to sell it so quickly.” “I’m a Broker Reid,” he said very plainly and distinctly. “It’s my business to sell homes. I’ll see you in an hour.” Closing my cell phone, I turned to Mary to tell her what surprise I felt, but in putting my hands in my pockets to rest them as I normally did, a strange feeling of coincidence came over me. It seemed there was an unfamiliar rock at the bottom of my pocket, and as I pulled it out to the light of day, I realized it was no rock at all. It was the buckeye, given to me the day before by that friendly older man who, as I recalled, told me it was; for good luck. “Mary,” I said. “Do you suppose... do you think this had anything to do with the house selling, or am I go’in crazy? Is it possible? Remember that guy... he told me it was for good luck.” “I remember. Who knows? You know me,” she continued. “I always did believe in a spiritual force. You’re the one who never believed.” “I’m beginning to,” I said. “This thing has me thinking. What if it’s like some kinda Aladdin’s lamp? I’ll tell ya Mary, if there’s any truth to this thing, I’m gonna find out just as quick as I can.” “Oh yeah? Just how do you intend to do that?” “I’m gonna go on rubbing it, that’s how. Who knows Mary,” I replied. “Anything can happen, anything at all.” “Who knows, maybe you’re right Reid. We’ve got nothing to loose but some bad luck, so go on, rub it and make a wish...”

“Where’s that damn Lotto ticket Mary? Help me look for it will ya? I can’t remember where I put it.” “You’ve got such a bad memory. It’s because you’re getting old.” “You’re the old one, not me. I’m never getting old, I refuse. Just help me look will you?” “What did you do when you came home? It was only yesterday. Just backtrack. Think of what you did.” “We went to Wilson’s Creek after I bought the thing, just like I told you. What if I lost it there? Damn.” “Check the car. It might’ve fallen out of your pocket in the car.” She was right about my memory I thought, on my way out to the garage. It was getting so bad, I could hardly remember the events of a few previous days. Partly because they were uneventful days to begin with and partly because of my fading, short term memory. I dreaded the day when I’d wake up next to my wife of twenty-five years - only to ask her who she was - fearful of the probable scenario... “I’m your wife, you old goof.” “Oh yeah,” I imagined myself saying. “Prove it.” “How am I gonna prove it if you can’t remember anything?” “How about a marriage certificate? That’s a way to prove it, isn’t it?” “Forget it,” might be her reply. “You look for it, I’m going back to sleep.” Opening the big garage door, I typed out the entry code on the driver side of the car - one of the things I proudly committed to memory besides my phone number, name and age - and began searching for the lost Lotto ticket. I had no idea if I’d purchased a winning ticket. Something like that was extremely far fetched, but since the incident with our house selling so quickly - the day after I’d been given the buckeye - I wasn’t going to take chances. Who knows, I thought. What if I could continue this streak of good luck? What if it wasn’t just a coincidence, but the intervention of some kindred spirit who knows I’m down on my luck. What if? For me, the chance was just too tempting not to follow up on, and as soon as I got the car door open, I got down on my hands and knees, searching every crevice of the seats and floor, only to come up with two dry, hairy french fries, a dime and an old address from a job interview I went on that never panned out. Oh boy, I thought, as I crumpled the useless road instructions in my palm and stared out one of the car windows into oblivion. It appeared as if my good luck streak wasn’t a streak at all, just another bump in an otherwise smooth road to Nowhere-ville. Walking back into the house, I glumly passed Mary and sat down in my desk chair with my head in my hand. “Looks like I’m never gonna find out if I won or lost,” I said, watching the leaves shake from the wind on the tree outside our bedroom window. “It’s just as well. Our chances of winning were something like three million to one.” “What pants were you wearing,” asked Mary, stubbornly unwilling to give up the quest. “What? Huh?” I replied, shaken from my lousy mood. “Uhh, the ones I’ve got on I think. Why?” “You probably never took it out of your pocket if I know you. Check your pockets.” Digging down into my two front pockets, I was rewarded with the buckeye, a dog treat, an old gum wrapper, and what do you know... of all things, the Lotto ticket. “See,” answered Mary. “I told you so. God, how hard was that? You’re making me miss my talk shows, don’t you have something to do?” “What would I do without you Mary?” “Probably forget where you live.” “Is that a good thing, or a bad?” I asked, as she walked out of the bedroom and into the living room. “Oh well,” I said to myself. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

I didn’t have long to wait to find out what the winning numbers were, since the following Saturday promised to tell all. Drawings for Lotto in Missouri are every Wednesday and Saturday. Jackpots begin at one million dollars and have the potential to grow to a whopping six million bucks, depending on when winning tickets are drawn. The jackpot we were waiting for had already grown to four million dollars and as usual, Missourians were eagerly awaiting the results. Knowing that I could find out with ease by visiting the Missouri Lotto website on my computer, I did just that on that warm August morning. Clicking the power on, I waited for files to load while I walked around the room pacing, made myself a cup of coffee to distract myself and finally, sat down with great apprehension to determine the course of my financial destiny. “What’s taking so long?” asked my overly anxious soul mate. “C’mon, I don’t have all day!” “The files have to load Mary. It’ll just get confused if I start clicking on things now. Hold on just one more minute. There,” I said, after what seemed even to me like an eternity. “It must be done, I don’t hear the hard drive whirring around anymore. I’ll get on-line.” Our telephone connection was extra slow and a dinosaur compared to other services, but at the time, we didn’t have much choice in the matter. “Are you on yet?” she asked me. “Did we win anything?” “Hold on would ya. God Mary, how am I supposed to do anything with you bugging me like this? I still have’ta get to the Lotto website... Okay,” I replied, after another desperate eon of crawling time. “I’m there.” “And, did we win or what?” “No, dammit! You won’t believe it, we’re off by one digit of one number.” The numbers on my play slip read... 16-18-23-35-37-44, and all we needed to win the jackpot was a 28 in place of the number 23. “Do you believe it?” I said, running my hands through what was left of my decrepit hairline. “I can’t believe my luck. I really thought we had a chance. Hell,” I said, as I listened to myself whine like an overtired baby. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. We were so close to becoming millionaires. So close,” I said, as I let my head fall to the surface of my computer desk with a loud thud, subconsciously expressing the disastrous effects of what was supposed to be a game, but instead, had grown to outrageous proportions of agony and frustration. “So close,” I continued to mumble like some forgotten recording going around and around. “So close...” “Oh God,” answered Mary. “I can’t believe our luck. It’s just the same as it ever was..., rotten. Can I see the ticket?” she asked, feeling the need to confirm in her mind the unfortunate stroke of bad luck we’d been given. Taking the play slip from my desk, she gently ran her fingers over the surface of it, as if to reveal some hidden information we’d only lightly gone over, but missed in our haste. “It’s dead Mary. What’s the use in depressing yourself? Look,” I said, pulling my head from my desktop. “I think we probably won some other secondary prize. Could be six or seven hundred bucks. What the heck, we matched most of the numbers didn’t we? That’s enough to pay the electric bill, some of our credit cards and go out for dinner. Whaddaya think?” “I think there’s something on the card, that’s what I think. Something sticking to it,” she said. “Look at this, it’s some sticky stuff from those dog treats you carry around... it’s coming off. Look!” she shouted. “Look at this! That’s not a 23, it’s a 28! You couldn’t read it. The sticky junk made the eight look like a three! We’re rich Reid! We’re fabulously wealthy!” “You’re kidding me?” I said, unable to believe we’d really won. After all, I’d practically never won a thing in my life and this winning ticket came as a tremendous shock wave to me. “Can I see it? C’mon Mary,” I insisted. “Let me take a look at it. Wholly cow,” I proclaimed, examining the play slip. “We beat the odds. We really beat the odds. Three million to one. It’s hard to believe isn’t it?” But even as the words left my mouth, an uncomfortable premonition had taken their place, and settled in to stay along with what appeared to be our lucky streak and more then mild, good fortune. Never one to wreck any happy occasion, I dismissed the thought as best I could but wondered what the future would bring. Like a pebble tossed into a still pond, would there be repercussions like rippling waves for years to follow? What new responsibilities would I have to carry like new added weights, I wondered. But instead of telling Mary anything of my new concerns, I dropped them as best I could. I knew she’d be calling me a worrier and besides, it was time to party. Time to revel in our new good fortune, and time to explore all of those things that were only just moments before, completely out of reach.

Chapter 2

“Hey Reid,” came a voice over my home phone. “It’s Gordon, how ya do’in?” “Do’in okay I guess. How are you do’in?” I asked. “I’m okay,” he said. “Do’in just fine.” But as our Chicago style salutations came to a close, I couldn’t help wondering just who the heck I was talking to. The only Gordon I knew had left for military school when we were kids in seventh grade and let me tell you, he was one wild little guy. As I recalled - from my foggy, fading memory - we were hanging out one day around a low wooden fence, just shooting the breeze as bored kids have been known to do. The fence I remember was made out of regularly spaced, horizontal 4x4 beams that framed into the same size vertical posts and on that day, old Gordy had hopped up to the top beam, about four feet off the ground and wondered out loud what would happen if he jumped up and came down on it. Myself and another middle school friend of mine just stood and watched as Gordon got ready to make his move, and what we witnessed that day was just this side of unbelievable. Like a master of Karate, and with no formal training, this one-hundred twenty pound boy leapt four feet into the air over his target - far over our heads - and came crashing down on that beam. Needless to say, it snapped like a twig and astonished both me and my awestruck friend, but we never really got the chance to congratulate Gordon as the following week, he’d vanished into thin air. All that I could find out was that he’d left for military school and later, after thinking about it, I finally realized that his parents had given up on him. Sad when you think about it, because he really wasn’t a bad guy, it’s just that he was - to put it mildly - uncontrollable. “So Gordon,” I said. “It’s nice to hear from you, but I’m sorry, I can’t seem to place you.” “C’mon man,” he insisted. “It’s old Gordy. You know, Gordon Steinberg.” Finally, when I heard the name in full, it dawned on me - this really was old Gordon. The same one who’d busted up the fence that day. “Holy cow Gordon, I haven’t seen you in years. What’s go’in on?” I asked. “Oh, I been busy. Never had the chance ta call anyone really, till now anyway.” “How so Gordon? What did you end up do’in anyway? I lost track a you a long time ago.” “Oh,” he muttered, after some hesitation in his voice. “Guess you could say, I been around the block, know what I mean?” “No,” I replied. “I can’t say that I do, but if you don’t want to tell me, that’s alright. I didn’t mean ta pry.” “No that’s okay, I guess it don’t matter now. You remember,” he began. “A long time ago, after I didn’t see you guy’s no more?” “Yeah, sure,” I answered. “I remember. We wondered what happened ta you. All we heard was you went off to military school.” “Yep, that’s true,” he agreed. “But that was just for starters. After I got out, I felt like I been in jail, so I figured what’s the difference, my life stinks anyway an I... well I... I stole a car.” “You’re kidd’in me Gordon.” “Nope,” he said. “I ain’t kidd’in.” “Didya get in trouble?” I asked naively. “Did the cops get ya?” “Nope... well... not right away, anyway. It took ‘em a while ta catch on to me. I got pretty good at it if I do say so myself. Things went pretty good there, for awhile.” “Whaddaya mean?” “Till I got caught. I ended up do’in five years in Joliet. Man I’ll tell you, that place stinks. I mean it really smells bad there, especially in the summertime. You don’t wanna end up there man, whatever you do.” “Yeah, I hear ya,” I answered. “I think I read something like that in the newspaper once. The Sunday Tribune or something. But anyway,” I continued. “You got out, then what?” “Couldn’t find a job Reid. No one would hire me, be’in an ex-con an all.” “So what’d ya do?” “What could I do? I stole another car. Not just any car though. A real nice one. It was a brand new black Cadillac with everything on it, the works. Power this, power that, cold air, ran like a top.” “So, did ya wind up sell’in it for parts, or what?” “I would’ve, but since the car belonged to an alderman, I didn’t get the chance. Cops were all over me like flies.” “Oh no Gordon,” I said, after suddenly realizing that there were some people in this world with even worse luck than mine. “So what happened?” “So whaddaya think happened? I wound up back in the slammer, that’s what. Eight years this time. Geez, that alderman guy was pissed off. How was I supposed ta know whose car it was? My luck, ya know?” “Yeah, Gordon,” I said. “Sounds pretty crummy, but anyway, you’re out now right? Hey,” I asked, feeling like it might be a good idea to change the subject. “What’s the weather like up there in Chi-town? It outta still be nice an warm right?” “Nice an sweaty you mean. Hey look Reid,” he said. “Why don’t I just get ta the point?” “Shoot,” I replied, before I realized that a man like Gordon might actually do just that, given the right set of circumstances. “Well...” he began. “It seems like I’m a little bit down on my luck lately, you know. Work is scarce for a guy like me Reid - be’in an ex-con an all - an anyways, I got ta think’in when I heard you won the Lotto an all...” “How in the world did you hear that, Gordon?” I asked, knowing how we’d lost touch with each other so many years ago. “Oh, you’d be surprised buddy. Word can travel pretty fast, especially in the slammer.” “I see what you’re getting at Gordon,” I said, after finally putting together the reason for his phone call. “But as it is right now, I’m broke. I don’t have a pocket to piss in. We’re just gett’in by here, really.” “But, I don’t understand,” he began. “You just won four million bucks didn’tcha? What’s the problem?” “They don’t pay out sums like that for weeks Gordon. Then, when they finally do get around to it, we’re mov’in straight to a better house. I promised my wife, I owe it to her after all these years.” “So... does that mean ya can’t see yer way ta loan an old buddy a few bucks. I’ll pay it back, honest. Soon as I get on my feet.” “Tell you what,” I answered, after some careful deliberation. “Why don’tcha give me your number, an I’ll get back to you. I’ll run it past my wife and see what she thinks, whaddaya say?” “Sounds okay,” he replied, with just a bit of dejection to his voice. “But yer not gonna ferget me now are ya? I know, its been a long time since we talked, but gosh Reid, I wouldn’t be call’in if I didn’t really need the dough. I got my pride too ya know. It took a lot for me ta call. Yer talk’in to a desperate man here.” “I know Gordon. Hey buddy,” I said, feeling like I ought to wind up the call and get off the phone, as nothing would be resolved in the next few minutes anyhow. “My wife wants ta go shopping an I’m gonna help her lug the packages. I promise I’ll get back to you, okay?” “Okay man. Hey,” he said, after giving me his number. “We gotta get together sometime, ya know? It’d be like the old days, just hang’in out.” “Yeah Gordon, we should,” I said in agreement, and hung the telephone handset back in place. “Who was that?” asked Mary, soon after I’d hung up. “That was a long call.” “Yeah it was, wasn’t it,” I answered, still thinking over what Gordon had said and the problems he’d encountered in his life. “Was it an old friend, or what?” “Geez Mary, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you. Talk about old friends, this one goes way back.” “But it’s nice that he thought of you isn’t it?” “I suppose. C’mon,” I said. “I’ll tell you all about it on our walk. We are walking today aren’t we?” “Sure, but It’ll cost ya,” quipped Mary. “You mean the walk’s gonna cost me money?” “Yep. Your mister money bags now aren’t you?” “I guess. At least, that’s what people are beginning to think. You know Mary, I’m gett’in the idea that being rich may not be all it’s cracked up to be.” “It’s a hellava lot better then the alternative.” “But we don’t even have the money yet,” I said. “I can dream, can’t I?” Isn’t that just part of the problem, I thought to myself, as we got into the car and started up the muscular, gas chugging V8 engine I was so proud of. People always dreaming, always wondering what it would be like to live like someone else, or even to be someone else. Someone wealthy or famous, or both. After all, I wondered, who is completely satisfied with the way they ended up? Certainly not old Gordon, that’s for sure.

The hills are alive, with the sound of music...That’s about it I thought, as I observed Mary spinning around in an open field at Wilson’s Creek that day. I guess you’d have to be a bit older to remember that 1965 classic film. As for myself, I was always partial to action movies, but I have to admit, Mary does a good Julie Andrews impression. Some of Mary’s performances are better then others but this time however, she put on a good show. I think winning four million bucks may have been the key to her inspiration. Her emotions just seemed to pour out all over the grass that day and the backdrop for the scene - the seventeen hundred some acres of tall grass and wild flowers of the battlefield just suited the purpose perfectly. The only thing we were missing was a video camera to film the action, but I resigned myself to committing my wife’s performance to memory, even though in my case, that is not so spectacular a resolution. After the show, I decided to walk my starry eyed mate along one of the more well traveled paths of the park, where I knew we’d eventually come to a bridge which overlooks the creek the battlefield was named for. When we arrived at the spot, I did what I always do when we get there, and I began to stare into the passing water below, looking for any signs of life in the quickly moving current. Sometimes we get lucky and we get to see quite a bit of wildlife while we’re there. On a recent occasion, we’d seen a medium sized bird called a Kingfisher. Smaller then the Great Blue Heron, but bigger then Robbins or Crows, it stood out with its long thin bill and dark blue body, streaking along under the bridge at high speed, searching the waters below for small fish until it came to rest in a tall tree hundreds of yards in the distance. I wouldn’t have been able to identify it, were it not for the bird clock Mary got me for Christmas some time ago. Dang thing comes in handy sometimes. Anyway, on that day, as I fixed my gaze into the clear running stream, I noticed a turtle moving slowly along near the shoreline. It wasn’t all that fascinating but it proved to be more interesting then the water itself and I watched as it made progress and moved towards us from our vantage point on the bridge. “Won’t be long til it gets here,” I said to my wife. “Reckon?” she replied. “Yep. Just hold on ta yer hat cause the wind it’ll create when it passes might give us whiplash.” “Think so?” she answered. “You’re just being facetious. Anyhow, it couldn’t move any slower then yer work speed Reidy,” she snidely remarked. “You’re so funny, I forgot ta laugh,” I answered, as any socially skilled six grader would have. But no sooner did I have the chance to revel in my keen strategy, then the cell phone in my pocket began to sing its familiar song, shattering our harmonious union. Two verses of It’s A Small World After All filled the air around us, before I grudgingly opened the tiny, bothersome beast. “Yeah,” I answered, still slightly peeved over Mary’s merciless attack. “It’s your nickel.” “Reid, is that you?” asked the caller. “None other.” “Boy am I glad I finally reached you. You got no idea how hard it was ta find your number. How ya do’in buddy! Long time no see.” “I’m okay,” I said, as a strange feeling of deja vu came over me, having received a similar call only hours before. “What can I do for you?” I asked, as I watched a school of tiny fish swim under the bridge, disappearing from sight. “Hey man,” answered the exuberant, nameless voice. “It’s not what you can do for me.” “No?” “Hell no. It’s what I can do for you,” he said, reminiscent of one of the late president Kennedy’s famous speeches - Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country - even though the general gist had been inverted. “You’ve got my interest up,” I remarked. “But I still don’t know who you are.” “Oops, sorry old buddy,” he said. “Hey, you remember who put the tacks on Mrs. Brock’s chair dont’cha?” “Tacks on Mrs. Brock’s chair?” I reiterated. “No, sorry. Can’t say that I do.” “Well, how about the time we put grasshoppers in Rachael Cohen’s lunch. You remember that dont’cha?” “Not off hand,” I said. “Sorry, my memory’s not what it used to be. Maybe if you told me your name, I’d remember.” “Gosh old man, you really are los’in it aren’cha. It’s Jerry. Your old pal Jerry Goldberg. You remember me now, right?” “Jerry Goldberg,” I repeated out loud. “I knew a Jerry Goldberg along time ago... in kindergarten I think. Damn, I was only five years old then. That’s the only Jerry Goldberg I can think of right now.” “Bravo!” said the caller. “You got it. That’s me! Boy, that didn’t take too long, did it?” he said, with a note of sarcasm in his voice. “Well, look Jerry,” I began, not wanting to be rude, but at the same time, I was getting tired of being on the phone. “I’m out in the middle of nowhere right now, taking a walk with my wife. Can I call you back?” “What?” he asked. “And pass up the deal of a lifetime! Are you crazy?” “I don’t think so,” I answered. “That is, I didn’t think so til now, anyway.” “What kinda remark is that?” asked Jerry. “I come ta you with an open heart and a helping hand an this is the way you treat me. I swear, you’ve changed.” “Forty-five years can do that to a person,” I said, anxious to get off the phone. “Can’t we get to the point?” “Okay then, if it makes ya feel better to be rude after all these years, I’ll just say what’s on my mind.” “Yes Jerry, please just say it. What’s on your mind?” “I can sum it all up in one word buddy boy...” “Yes please, sum it up.” “Land.” “Is that the word?” I asked impatiently. “Land?” “You know it man! The magic word is land. L-A-N-D, land.” “What about it Jerry?” But just as I had asked the question, I’d closed my eyes and missed a baby Quail pop out from its nest in the tall grass and run to the other side of the road. Mary did her best to describe what had happened, but a description of something generally palls in comparison to having seen it with your own eyes. Now I was really getting mad at Jerry for keeping me on the phone, but he was intent on bothering me all the more... “Look, Jerry,” I continued. “I really gotta go. Why don’t we talk about this another time.” “There may not be another time Reid. People are buying up acres as we speak, an you’re in a great position now to buy whatever you want.” “Whaddaya mean Jerry? Who told you that?” “Oh shit, you’re loaded pal, everyone knows it. Word gets around. Everyone knows you’re a millionaire now, an this is the best way ta invest. A sure thing.” “If you really wanna know Jerry, I haven’t seen a dime a that money an I won’t for weeks. Where is this land deal anyway?” I asked, slightly curious to know. “Missouri,” he replied. “Southeast Missouri.” But even as he spoke, a Great White Heron landed in the stream, plucked a fish from the water and flew off. Beating its huge wings to gain altitude, I caught only a glimpse of the impressive bird, as it flew off over distant trees and on into the azure blue horizon. “Southeast Missouri?” I repeated. “You mean the boot heal?” “Yep,” he replied. “How’d ya know?” “There’s nothing there but swampland,” I said. “But it’s a great place ta go fishing.” “Oh yeah,” he answered, slightly annoyed. “Since when?” “Since the last ice age. Look Jerry, I really have ta go. Sorry,” I said, as I pressed the ‘end call’ button on the phone and closed it. “Wow, did you get to see the Heron that landed?” asked Mary, as I put the phone back in place on my belt. “Pretty bird.” “Just barely,” I said. “He wouldn’t let me off the darn phone. You’ll never guess what he wanted.” “Try me.” “The past two calls I received were old friends all right. So old, I never expected to hear from them again, but ever since word got around that we won the Lotto jackpot, well... you know the rest. They just want me ta give ‘em money we haven’t even seen yet. They’re com’in outta the woodwork Mary, what do I do?” “Just turn your phone off. If it’s important, people will leave a message.” “Is this the way it’s gonna be now?” I asked my wife, as I stared down into the water to the very bottom of the streambed, discovering with my eyes, ancient rocks of different sizes and colors, weathered by time and current. Some of the rocks were so large, I imagined it would take a small bulldozer to remove them, and some so small, you could put them in your pocket and walk away with them, but all of them as common to the area as the Buckeye I carried in my pocket. “Is this the way it’s gonna be now?” I repeated, hypnotized by the tranquil, rippling water passing beneath me. “You know what people say...,” she replied, turning to meet my eyes with hers. “Watch what you wish for, it just might happen.”

Chapter 3

When it came time to close the loan on the new house we picked out, I did something I always wanted to do, but never thought I could - I paid with a suitcase full of cash. It was worth it just to see the expression on the closing agents face and it gave Mary and I a great feeling of security, knowing that we didn’t owe the bank a dime. Compared to what we’d been living in, the new place was a palace. Four thousand square feet gave us plenty of room to move around in without bumping into each other, and the ten acres of land it was on gave Mary ample space to play Julie Andrews all she wanted. In fact, we were deliriously happy, but it didn’t take us long to find out that all those rooms in the house weren’t going to clean themselves, so we mutually decided to hire a maid to help out around the place. All we had to do was look in the phone book to find one, but the kind of maid I had in mind wasn’t all that easy to find... “Lets do something non-conventional,” I suggested. “Like what?” “How about a topless maid?” “Yeah, right,” answered Mary. “No, really,” I said. “I hear they’re real thorough and they don’t cost much more then other maids.” “You gotta be kidding. Do I look nuts to you?” “Well...” was all I said, even though she’d given me a perfect opening in which to agree, and it wasn’t very often that we agreed on anything. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. C’mon,” she urged. “Get serious, we have to make a decision.” “Okay, tell ya what,” I replied. “You call ‘em in and I’ll interview ‘em. Fair enough?” “Not really, but It’ll give you something to do with your time and I’ve gotta go food shopping, the cupboard’s bare.” “Very well then, I’ll even help make the selection here,” I said, as I leafed through the pages of our phone book. Taking the buckeye out of my pocket, I closed my eyes, made a wish and rubbed it for good luck. Handing my wife the phone, I read the number out loud to her, sat back in my chair and waited to let destiny take its course.

I was in my study, tinkering at my computer when the doorbell rang out. The bell was actually a chime that sounded more like the bell atop the Cathedral of Notre Dame then the kind of doorbell I was used to, but at any rate, when someone pressed it, you knew they were there. Grasping the big brass handle in my right hand, I opened the heavy, oversized oak door and stood aghast at what was before me. In shock, there wasn’t much I could do but stand in the doorway, stare and breathe air - the kind of brain functions that normally carry on in the body without having to make any conscious effort - that was about all I was capable of at the time. “Aren’t you gonna ask me in?” said the young lady on my porch. “It’s hot as hell out here and I sure could use somethin ta drink.” “Uh... uh...” “Oh c’mon, you can do better then that,” she said. “Haven’t you ever seen a girl before?” “Sure,” I muttered. “Well... so?” she replied, still staring at me through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. “Let me in then, I’m not gonna bite you.” “Okay, sure,” I said, inviting her into the entrance hall with a wave of my arm. “Yeah, wow. What got into me? I’m sorry, I usually don’t act like that. It’s just that I didn’t expect someone...” “Someone like me?” she said, interrupting me and giving me the feeling that my mind was an open book. “Yeah,” I said. “I kinda expected someone older and if you don’t mind my saying so... not as pretty.” “Well, I guess maids come in all shapes and sizes don’t they. So,” she continued, removing her glasses to reveal the most beautiful sparkling blue eyes I’d ever seen. “You gonna interview me, or what?” “Yes, certainly,” I replied, thanking my lucky stars for the day I’d been given that small, acorn looking, hunk of tree I’d been carrying around with me for the past few weeks in my pocket. After all, people never tire of telling you that money doesn’t grow on trees, but my case was a true exception to the rule. Leading my welcome visitor to the living room - where I thought I would best be able to relax and calm down - I came to rest in one of the overstuffed new chairs we’d bought and began where I’d left off in the foyer... staring in awe with my mouth agape. “If you don’t wanna start, I can,” she said, taking the bull by the horns. “The name’s Vera. Vera Goode.” “You’re kidding me right?” I asked, doing my best to suppress the nervous laughter that wanted to come out. “Nope, I ain’t kidd’in. That’s my real name, and I might as well tell you right from the start, I don’t do windows.” “Hmm,” I muttered. “I wonder why so many people have a problem with windows. Are they that hard to clean?” “Not really,” answered Vera. “It’s just a lotta shit I don’t feel like do’in. You okay with that?” “I guess, but somebody’s gotta do ‘em. I suppose I can if they get really bad.” “Whatever. Anyway,” she continued. “Is this a live-in job, cause I need a place ta stay. I don’t feel like liv’in outta my suitcase anymore. I tried that. It’s not much fun, I’ll tell you that right now.” “I’ll bet,” I said. “It sounds like you’ve been through some rough times.” “You know it,” she replied. “But I’d rather not go into that. So?...” “What?” “Is it a live-in job or what?” “Oh yeah, sorry. Sure,” I answered. “We can swing that. There’s plenty of room here. Too much really for just my wife and I, so heck, how about the guest room on the first floor. You got your own bathroom/spa with environmental controls you can set for a light tropical rain, steam, or mist. Whatever you like, it’s cool. I always wanted something like it, but I was never able to buy it til now.” “Oh yeah,” answered Vera. “Nouveau riche?” “I suppose you could say that,” I said. “But I’d rather not go into explanations right now.”

“Touché,” she quipped, with a look of sullen disinterest on her flawless face. Adjusting her large, heavy breasts with both hands as if they were cumbersome weights, she continued by adding... “I gotta get outta this bra, it’s kill’in me.” But just as she’d innocently made her wishes apparent to me, who should walk into the room but my adoring wife, Mary. “Hi,” said my wife, never one to assume me guilty of any crime until proven, beyond the shadow of a doubt. “What’s going on?” she asked, as anyone would have. “Hey Mary,” I replied. “This is Vera. She came to apply for the job.” “Super,” responded Mary, sitting down in a chair next to mine. “I need help around the place. It’s so big, it’s just too much for me to handle alone. Have you done this kind of thing before?” “Oh yeah,” answered Vera. “Well... can I ask, where?” “Around,” said Vera, most evasively. “Uh... okay,” was all Mary could say, but she soon followed up with, “Reid, can I see you in the study for a minute?” And when I heard that, I knew there were going to be repercussions and a price to pay for wanting to hire the likes of Vera. “What is it pumpkin?” I asked innocently, on our way into the study. “What’s wrong?” “You know what’s wrong,” said Mary, throwing the ball right back at me as most wives would have. “She is rude!, and you expect me to hire her? Plus, I don’t trust her. What’s her job history like?” “Her job history?” “Yes! What did she do before this.” “Well... I, er...” “You don’t even know, do you?” “Well, it’s just that we didn’t get that far yet my dove. I’ll go back and ask her if you want me to.” “Of course I want you to. Haven’t you explained your own job history every time you’ve applied for work? Doesn’t everyone? Why should she be exempt?” “You’re right lambchop. I’ll go right in there and make her talk. How’s that?” “That’s a start, anyway. God, do I have to do everything?” “C’mon Mary,” I pled. “I just didn’t get that far with her yet, that’s all. You came home before I could ask her those things.” “Well, make sure you do.” “Right honey pie. You’ll see, I’m an expert inter-viewer. I’ll get her ta spill the beans, you’ll see.” “Yeah, right. And another thing...” “Yes, my swan.” “If I ever catch you two, it’s curtains for you buster.” “But dumpling,” I said, holding Mary’s lithe body close to mine, putting my arms around her as I spoke. “You know my love for you is beyond reproach.” “Just make sure you remember that when she goes home at night.” “Well babykin,” I said tentatively. “That’s the thing. I told her this was a live-in position.” “You what! No way!” “She’s got no where else to go baby. She’s homeless. What was I supposed to do?” “Shit, now what? Are there any more surprises? I go shopping for two hours and the whole place turns upside down. What’s next? Are her cousins moving in? What about her parents? Do they need a place to stay too?” “No, lambchop. Nobody mentioned any relatives.” “There better not be. And stop using those ridiculous descriptive adjectives. Lambchop my ass. You go in there and get her job history, pronto.” “Yes dear.” I said, as I left the study, having made the determination in my mind to be firm with Vera and get as much information about her past as I possibly could. After all, I had to agree with Mary. Who knows what Vera had been up to before she answered our call? And the clandestine way she treated the issue only served to create more suspicion. I could see that I had my work cut out for me. It was up to me to find out what was going on in that gorgeous head of Vera’s, and dadgummit, I was going to find out. Walking back to the living room, I expected to find her sitting on one of the love seats where I left her, but I found no sign of her shapely torso anywhere in the room. Wondering where she went, I quietly searched from room to room until I came to the guest room. Noticing that the door was closed, I gently knocked, thinking that any loud noises might alarm my lovely wife and alert her to this unforeseen problem, but no answer came. Hearing nothing but the sound of gently running water, I turned the unlocked door handle and cautiously called Vera’s name, but again, I heard no reply. Looking into the room - or trying to anyway - I saw nothing but steam. The furniture; the bed, in fact everything and anything in the room had become lost behind one great wall of man-made, or I should say in this case, woman-made fog. “Vera,” I called out again, slightly louder then before. “Vera, are you there?” but still, I got no reply. Walking blindly, running on only my memory of the layout of the large guest suite, I searched in vain for the source of the steam and tried to make my way to the bathroom, but walked deftly into a nearby wall. Falling from the force of impact, I landed flat on my back and laid there helplessly, rubbing my head, until the unthinkable finally happened... “Ouch! Shit!” said Vera, as she tripped over me, landing directly on top of me, as naked as the day she was born. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, in that brazen manner of hers I’d already become accustom to. “I live here,” I replied. “Remember?” “Yeah, but excuse me, don’t people normally bathe alone?” she said, as her right breast unavoidably grazed my face. “Wholly shit Vera, you’re naked! What if Mary comes in?” “Don’t ask me, I didn’t plan this. It was your idea, not mine.” “I couldn’t find you,” I said excitedly, as my heart beat harder and harder with each passing second. “I was just about to ask you about your job history.” “I thought you gave me the job,” she replied. “Remember? You told me it was a live-in position.” “Yeah, but I didn’t realize the living-in part had already started.” Then, finding myself lodged between two of the biggest natural breasts I’d ever seen, the stunning realization of knowing she was on top of me began to set in. “V-V-Vera,” I stuttered. “I’ve gotta get outta here. My marriage is on the line.” “So? Who’s stopp’in ya. You know where the door is, use it.” “Okay,” I said, barely audibly. “Just let me up and I’ll get outta here.” Rising from her prone position, Vera stood - I supposed - as I still couldn’t see anything in the room further away then two feet, and I made my way to the bedroom door, crawling on all fours. Feeling the carpet ahead of me, looking out for any other obstacles like the wall I’d hit on my way in, I finally found my way back to the door, got up on my feet, and closed it behind me. Wow, I thought, as I stood in the clear air of the hallway, catching my breath. Is this the way it’s gonna be now? I wondered, recalling that I’d said the very same thing to my wife only weeks before on our visit to Wilson’s Creek. “I’ll just have ta roll the dice and see what happens,” I said to myself. “A’course, it wouldn’t hurt ta break out the old buckeye neither,” I added, fishing around in my pocket for the small, wood-like source of my admiration. “With a girl like Vera around, I’m gonna need all the luck I can get, and then some.”

“So?” asked Mary, when I met her in the kitchen. “What’s her job history like? Aren’t you going to call her references?” “I’m glad you asked,” I boldly replied. “I was just getting to that.” “You were just gonna call, right?” “Well I... I thought that I was a pretty good judge of character, don’t you think?” “And?” “And, so, I thought I’d just let her start. We can pretty much judge her work ethic from watching her for a while, don’t you think?” “I think,” said Mary, “but I wonder about you sometimes. Do you really think you can trust that... that porno star in there? Who knows what’s going on in her mind? She could steal you blind when you’re not looking.” “Don’t you worry dear, I’ll keep my eye on her.” “That’s what I’m afraid of,” answered Mary. “It looks like you got your wish after all, doesn’t it.” “What’s that my dove?” “The topless maid you wanted. I don’t know how you did it, but you did it.” “What do you get the man who has everything,” I answered. “I’m getting tougher to shop for, ain’t I?” “You just keep your hands off that vixen in there, if you know what’s good for you.” “Mary, there’s no reason to go calling Vera names like that. You hardly even know her. And stop worrying,” I said, as I gave the buckeye in my pocket an extra rub for good measure. “Nothing’s going to go wrong.”

Days passed and turned into weeks but still, the place was just as dirty as when Vera had first arrived. In fact, she did hardly anything, but when she did decide to do some work around the place, it was hard for me to take my eyes off her body in motion. It was like watching the pages of a risque men’s magazine come to life before me, and when weekends rolled around, she was fond of laying out by the pool in our yard, in the two pieces of yarn she called; a swimsuit. Of course, our bar tab with the neighborhood liquor store rose to an all time high too, but that didn’t bother me. Money like that was hardly a factor for consideration anymore, and I liked to see Vera get happy. Like most people, she got giddier when she got sloshed and she became a lot easier to talk to - not as defensive as she usually was when sober. Then one day, as I was sitting in my study with the door open, a thought occurred to me. Not about Vera, but about the prospect of making more money. I was opening a bag of beef jerky, about to break off a chaw - a habit I’d picked up from living in the Ozarks - when I started thinking about all those people here who enjoy it as much, or even more, then I do. I remembered I had a boss who even made his own and on occasion, he’d bring it to work for us to try. I liked it when I tried it, and he told me there were different types to choose from. “You kin make it outta just about anything,” he said. “Whatever ya got handy. Beef; turkey; venison, anything.” And sitting there, I wondered if I could use a little of the money I’d won from Lotto, invest it in my own company and package my own brand to sell around town. I could start out by underselling other brands to get a foothold in the market and hell, I knew some of the grocers and businessmen around Springfield so I figured, why not give it a try. The only thing I was really lacking was a name for my new product, but as I stared out the windows of my home office, watching the inflatable toys in the pool slowly migrate from one side to the other in the gentle breeze of summer, I came up completely empty. In fact, the only thing I got out of my long, ponderous thought was eyestrain from the intense sunlight pouring in on my face. Then suddenly, I heard a voice call to me from what seemed, out of nowhere. Where exactly it was coming from, I couldn’t tell and it shocked me when I realized there’d been someone else in the room with me all along. “Whatcha up to?” asked the faceless voice. “Vera?” I asked. “Is that you?” “None other,” she said, as she pushed the door of my office closed to reveal herself, standing there with no top on, with a grin on her face the likes of which would have made the Cheshire cat from Alice In Wonderland jealous. “You should see your face,” she continued. “You’re as red as a beet.” “You’ve got no clothes on!” I said. “What if Mary walks in!” “Relax, would ya. She’s out shopping. It’s just you an me now buddy boy,” she said, drawing nearer to me. “When the cat’s away, the mice will play.” “Oh no they don’t. They can’t play, I just can’t Vera. Please, put a top on before she comes home and finds us.” “I know you’ve been watching me. I have eyes,” she said, sitting down in front of me, on top of my desk. “What are you waiting for, an invitation?” “No, no. I don’t need an invitation.” I said, but just as visions of my angry wife began flashing through my mind, I’d already begun to lose control of the part of me that said ‘I can’t’ and was just about to indulge the part that said ‘I can’, when suddenly, the front door bell rang out like the summoning of parishioners to church. “Quick, put some clothes on! Someone’s here!” I yelled. Getting up, I ran out of the office and slammed the door shut behind me. Close call, I thought, as I paused at the front door to smooth out the wrinkles in my pants and shirt. I wonder who that could be now? And with my hands still shaking from all the excitement, I took hold of the big brass handle, pressed down on the thumb latch and slowly, opened the door. “Hello,” I said, trying hard to act natural. “What can I do for you?” “You can sign for this here package mister, that’s all I need.” “Oh, okay. Any idea what’s inside?” I asked. “Nope, don’t know. They don’t tell me, I just deliver.” “Hmm... what if I shake it a little ta find out?” “Don’t know why people always wanna shake packages,” he answered. “Might be glass in there or someth’in else breakable, but you go ahead if ya want. It’s yours now, see ya” he said, and with that, I watched as he turned and walked down our winding concrete path on the way back to his delivery truck. Wow, that guy was so rude, I thought. Has to make a big deal over shaking a little package. But when I brought the box inside and laid it down on the floor, I couldn’t help myself or stay my curiosity, and I shook that darn package until the contents seemed to slide from one side to the other. “What is it?” asked Vera, walking into the foyer to find out what I was doing. “Just a package delivery,” I answered. “Try’in ta find out what’s inside.” “I know a good way,” she said. “Open it.” “But, what if it’s Mary’s stuff? She hates it when I open her mail.” “Don’t worry about it. Where’s it from?” “Hmm,” I replied, after much consternation. “Someplace called; Vicky’s Secret.” “There ya go. That’s mine,” said Vera. “Hand it over here.” “What is the secret anyway?” I asked. “I’ve heard a this place but I never could figure out what the heck the secret was.” “You’ll see,” she replied, as she picked up the package and disappeared into the guest room. When Vera came out, I couldn’t believe my eyes. “You’re naked again,” I said. “I can see right through that thing.” “Do you like it?” “Of course I like it. Wouldn’t anyone? Look Vera,” I said, trying my hardest to get my mind off her, knowing that Mary might walk in with only a moments notice to react. “I’ve got something on my mind.” “So... tell me about it. We’re friends aren’t we?” “Sure we’re friends but...” “But what?” “Well, it’s like this Vera. I’ve been thinking lately that you’re just interested in my money. You’re not interested in the real me.” “To tell you the truth,” she said. “Money doesn’t hurt, and lets face it, from the looks a this dump, you got quite a bit of it.” “Yeah, I don’t know. Forget it. Forget I even said that will ya?” “No problem.” “There’s something else on my mind though. It’s a business idea I’ve been thinking over.” “So, tell me about it,” she said, standing in front of the doorway to the guestroom in her sheer, see through nightgown. “Okay, I can do that. I’ll meet you in the study,” I replied. “I do my best thinking there.”

Coming to rest in my office chair, Vera came into the room right after me, took up a position behind me and started rubbing my shoulders. “You’ve gotta relax,” she said. “You worry too much.” “Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed. And closing my eyes, I let Vera work her magic on me until she’d massaged my upper body into raw bread dough, ready for the oven. “Wow, that feels good,” I remarked. “Where’d ya learn how ta do that?” “I may be young,” she said. “But I’ve been around the block. Anyway,” she continued. “What’s this business venture you’ve got on your mind? You’re not gonna lose all your dough now are you?” “I sure hope not. But everything I’ve got, I owe to a stroke of good luck, so I’m hoping I can just continue on that way.” “Hopefully,” remarked Vera, kneading the muscles of my back like a cat. “Anyway, what’s this idea? My curiosity’s killing me.” “Alright,” I said, ready to spill the beans. “It’s jerky.” “Jerky who? Who’s jerky?” “It’s not a who, it’s a thing,” I answered. “It’s something you eat.” “Oh yeah, like beef jerky. I get it,” she said. “What about it?” “I’m gonna make my own. I’m gonna package it, sell it and hopefully turn a profit after six months or so. Whaddaya think? The only problem is, I can’t think of a name for it. I try an try and I just come up dry. Ya got any ideas?” “Are you berserk?” replied Vera, suddenly stopping the massage she’d been giving me. “You’re gonna take a chance on losing what you got here on some crappy old beef jerky? Does Mary know what you’re planning on doing?” “No, I haven’t told her yet. I guess that means ya don’t like the idea.” “You guessed right. I think you’re berserk, but go ahead. It’s your money, I can’t stop you.” After scolding me, I watched Vera walk out of my office and followed her every motion until I lost sight of her. She was physically a true work of art I thought, but emotionally or intellectually, a little rough around the edges. I’d never been reprimanded by an employee before, but then, I’d never had an employee before either. First time for everything, I thought, as I reversed the direction of my chair and focused on the great outdoors outside my window. Hmm, what was that she called me? I wondered to myself. “Berserk, wasn’t it? The nerve a that girl, I swear. Berserk... Berserky, that’s it!” I shouted, rising to my feet with what I thought was one, swift, stroke of genius. I’ll call it Berserky Jerky! That’s it, it’s done, it’s finished. Now, I thought, I can put my mind to rest for awhile and work on getting my product to market.

Chapter 4

Right from the very start, I decided to offer as many different types of jerky as I could think of. If people wanted snake or gator jerky, I’d have given them that too, but I didn’t feel there was much call for items of that nature and focused on the more mundane like beef, turkey, and pork. I talked a manufacturer in the city into helping me make my dream a reality - for a percentage of the action of course - and when the first twelve-ounce bags rolled off the assembly line, I brought them home for Mary and Vera to try. Neither of them had ever eaten the stuff before, so I knew they’d be tough customers to convince, but Mary would be especially difficult to win over since it was in part, her money I’d been using to make it. “Hi honey, I’m home,” I shouted, walking through the threshold of the front door and into the foyer. Noticing Vera in the living room dusting in a new outfit that must’ve come straight from Vicky’s Secret, I walked over to her, showed her the bags of jerky, and asked her which one she’d like to try first. “Do I have to?” she asked me. “Yes, consider it a part of the job,” I answered. Tearing open the bag of beef jerky first, I stuck my hand in and pulled out two long strips and handed one to Vera. “Well?” “Well what?” she replied. “Go on,” I urged. “Don’t be bashful, take a bite.” Watching the expression on her face as she tore off a hunk of the tough, dry meat and began to chew it, I asked her what she thought of it. “It sucks,” she said, never one to mince words. “Is that your final answer?” “Yes, can I go back to work now? You didn’t invest much, did you?” “Yes, go back to work,” I replied. “And yes, I did invest quite a bit. A few hundred thousand.” “Oh God, I can’t believe it. Mary will kill you.” “Not if you don’t tell her,” I said. “This is a secret between you and me, okay. I’m not gonna tell her anything she doesn’t need to know, it’ll only worry her.” As I’d finished speaking, I got that eerie feeling a person gets when you know you’re being watched but haven’t committed the feeling to conscience thought yet, turned around, and met Mary’s eyes with mine as she descended the stairway from the second floor. “Hi honey,” I said. “You’re just in time.” “For what?” “To try my new brand of beef jerky, that’s what. How’s that for excitement?” “You got me foaming like a rabid dog,” she answered sarcastically. “I can’t wait.” “Here ya go babe,” I said. “Check it out.” Opening the bag of turkey flavored jerky, since the beef didn’t seem to have gone over very well, I offered her a strip of it and readied myself for what I hoped would be, a favorable reply. “Do you eat it, or hammer nails with it?” she said, reacting much in the same way as Vera had. “You eat it, honey. Here, watch me,” I remarked, tearing off a chunk with my front incisors like any other rugged mountain man or cowboy out of the past. “Mmm,” I remarked. “Good stuff.” “You gotta be kidd’in,” said Mary. “Why would ya bring this stuff home anyway? Wait, don’t tell me. We’re going camping, right? Great, I’ll get my gear together. I’ve got an idea, why don’t we go buy an RV today. We don’t have to spend much and we’ll see the country. I’ve always wanted to see the country in one big road trip and now’s our chance. Hell, Vera can come too if she wants to. Whaddaya think?” “That sounds swell dear, but it just wasn’t what I had in mind.” “Then, what did you have in mind?” “I just wanted you to try the jerky, that’s all.” “Oh, is that all?” she replied, losing some of the energy and excitement she’d gained while thinking over the prospects of a vacation. “I guess I got carried away, didn’t I.” “A little,” I said, “but we can go on vacation if you want. I’d just like to wait a bit, to find out how my new product is doing. After that, I can go anywhere you want. You name the place an I’ll go, how’s that?” “Sounds great,” she replied. “Now what’s this about a new product? What new product?” “You’re look’in at it babe. Berserky Jerky!” I proudly exclaimed. “See, read the package. Whaddaya think?” “How much?” “It’ll sell for about two bucks I guess. Cool, ain’t it?” “No, I mean how much did it cost you to produce it? Food products don’t package themselves.” “A few thousand dollars my dove, that’s all I spent so far, I swear.” “If you lose our money on a hair-brained scheme, I’ll kill you, do you hear me?” “Yes, my sweet. Loud and clear,” I said, and turning from my wife, looking for approval in Vera’s chiseled face, I watched as she rolled her eyes skyward, as if to say that the whole situation, including myself, was far beyond hope.

It was time I thought, after some months had passed, to find out what kind of competitor Berserky Jerky was on the open market, so I placed a call to my accountant, Ralph Uppins, to find out what was going on. Ralph and two other accountants had been handling my portfolio ever since I received my first Lotto payment, but he was the easiest to talk to. He didn’t talk over my head like the others and he explained things in plain language that even an unworldly hillbilly-in-training like myself could understand. Another thing I liked about Ralph was the pretty secretary he hired soon after we met. I supposed what I paid him to look out for my best interests in a world full of predators was enough to meet her salary and then some. It gave me a good feeling to know that I could finally make a difference in this world, and that the money I gave him was going to a very good cause. On that day, when I walked in, I remember her sitting there with her mile long legs crossed, nail file in hand, hard at work on her nails as was to be expected. Hell, if that was good enough for Ralph it was certainly good enough for me, I couldn’t complain. From where I sat, the view was all too good. “Hey there Miss Willing, how are ya,” I said, opening the office door and taking my seat as I usually did on arrival. “Mr. Laurence, how nice to see you,” she responded. “Please, call me Ima.” “Sure thing Ima. You sure are look’in sharp taday. And hey,” I added. “Just call me Reid. Is Ralph real busy taday? I’m sure anxious ta find out how my new product’s doing. Did he tell you ‘bout Berserky Jerky yet?” “Hmm... no. Not that I recall. He’s probably got too much on his mind to tell me everything that’s going on. You know Ralph. Work, work, work.” “Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I’ll just sit here an wait for ‘im if ya don’t mind,” I said. But just as I was about to crack open Ralph’s new photo packed issue of National Geographic, who should come into the waiting area but old Ralph himself. “Hey buddy,” he exclaimed. “Good to see you. Come on in, I’ve been wanting to talk to you but I didn’t want to talk on the phone about business. You know me, I just don’t like phones. C’mon in Reid,” he said. “Have a seat old boy,” he added. Closing the door to his tastefully decorated office suite - complete with shower facility and workout center - I sat down in a soft, plushy leather chair while he began to rattle off numbers about my earnings in the stock market and the like. As he was talking, I was reminded of the way he normally didn’t talk over my head, but I guess there was an exception to every rule. “Hold on a minute Ralph,” I interjected. “Just say it in English this time. Ya know I’m not the brightest bulb in the chandelier.” “Okay, okay,” he muttered, turning his chair to get a good view of what was going on outside his window. “I get like this sometimes when I have to give people news. It’s a bad habit of mine. I really should stop.” “No harm done,” I answered. “What’s the scoop? How’s Berserky Jerky com’in along?” “Well... ya see Reid, that’s what I wanted ta talk to you about.” “I’m all ears,” I said, eagerly awaiting the news. “It seems that your new product is not doing what we’d hoped it would do.” “Okay,” I replied, shaking my head up and down, showing Ralph that I was indeed, listening closely, following his every word. “Just what kind of sales has it been making?” “Do you want an exact figure, or a ballpark number?” “Oh... I don’t know. How about an exact figure.” “Exactly...” said Ralph, turning his chair back around, looking me square in the face. “Exactly, nothing.” “You mean,” I said, not quite sure that I’d heard what I thought I heard. “It hasn’t even sold a bag? Not even one bag?” “That’s correct Reid. Berserky Jerky hasn’t sold one bag. It’s just about as lame as a one legged hooker. Oh, Damn... forget I said that would you. That’s not a very good analogy. It’s just not selling. That’s the cold, hard truth. Sorry.” “Shit, I really thought it would sell, you know. I thought my chances were really good,” I said, digging in my pocket for the buckeye that until now, hadn’t let me down. It was the good luck piece that I carried constantly. It sold my mess of a house for me; it made me rich; it even found Vera for me, but now, what now? This was the first time in a string of events that I’d been let down and I was financially in about as deep as I could be. Even for me, it was not a pretty picture. I had a lot of bills to pay out now, and Mary was counting on living off our savings for the rest of our lives. What was I going to tell her now? ‘Sorry honey, I seem to have lost a few hundred thousand dollars.’ I didn’t think that would go over very well. “What do I do now Ralph? I’m not broke, am I?” “Not right now you’re not. But after I pay out what you owe the manufacturer for production and storage costs, let’s just say... it’s not a very pretty picture.” “Shit.” “You can say that again. Anyway, I’m sorry I had to tell you old boy. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Hey,” he added. “Martha’s mak’in her famous lasagna tonight. Why don’tcha come over? Bring Mary. I got a new pool table in the game room we can try out. Ya gotta see my new TV. too, it’ll knock your socks off. It’s sixty inches. Takes up the whole wall.” “No, I can’t Ralph, but thanks. Tell the wife I’m sorry. I’m just not in a party mood. Maybe some other time,” I said. Standing up, I walked dejectedly out of Ralph’s office, said good-bye to Miss Willing and went directly to a bar to drown my sorrows and to somehow, put my lousy situation in stall so I wouldn’t have to face my wife.

The blinking neon sign out front said; Joe’s Bar & Grill. “Don’t they always?” I said to myself, as I pushed open the door and took a seat at the bar. “What’ll it be?” asked the stalwart looking bartender from behind the counter. “Got a preference?” “Something with alcohol in it,” I answered. “I’m here ta do some serious boozing.” “Com’in right up,” he replied. “How about a double scotch? That’s serious enough, ain’t it?” “Sounds like a good start,” I said, as he poured out the more then ample sized drink. “Say,” I started to ask, looking around the room for any patrons I hadn’t seen when I first sat down. “Where is everyone? Looks like I’m the only one here.” “As luck would have it,” replied the proprietor. “You are. I guess you ain’t the only guy with troubles. Can’t seem ta bring people in lately, I might have ta close my doors. Wasn’t always like this ya know. This place used ta thrive.” “What happened?” I asked, getting interested in the bartenders plight, finding my mind temporarily eased from my own woes, as I pondered another’s. “Oh, bunch a new places opened up around the city here,” he remarked. “Renovating old buildings in the town square. Hell, I can hardly pay my rent anymore. Sure, property values are go’in up, but the little guys like me are gonna suffer, see what I mean?” “Yeah, I understand,” I said, taking a long chug of the drink he put down in front of me. “So what’s your problem Mack? I told you mine,” he said, calmly wiping the smooth black surface of the bar as he spoke. “Oh, it probably wouldn’t even interest you.” “Try me.” “Alright, if you really wanna know. I won a lotta money at Lotto, an now I’m hard at work los’in it,” I stated. Finishing my drink, I inadvertently slammed it down on the counter as I asked him for another. “If ya don’t mind my say’in so,” offered my newly found, stout advisor. “You ain’t the only one who ever lost money. It might be of some consolation to you if you considered that.” “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll try. Wow,” I exclaimed, “thish shtuff really goes ta your head don’t it,” I remarked, slurring my words, feeling the effects of the alcohol. “You don’t drink much do ya?” “Not really, once in a blue moon. Hey buddy,” I asked, as I downed the second double he’d put in front of me. “How’s ‘bout another. Whew, thatsh shome powerful shtuff.” “If you think you can handle it.” “Sure, I can handle it just fine,” I answered. “By the way, I didn’t catch yer name.” “Name’s Joe, like it says on the sign.” “Good ta meet’cha Joe,” I said, and as I extended my arm to shake hands, I collapsed head first into the unforgiving surface of the bar and passed out, stone cold drunk. Hours later, I woke up with a marble sized bump on my forehead where my head hit the bar. Rubbing it, I looked out the window to find that day had turned to night and I wondered what time it was. I never did carry a watch - it made me nervous to know that time was constantly moving, pushing us to do things and make progress - so I looked for Joe to ask him, but he was nowhere in sight. Hmm, I thought. He must be in back somewhere. So I waited for a while and called out his name, but still, no answer. “Wonder where he went,” I mumbled under my breath. Staggering from the aftereffects of the scotch and the hard knock I’d taken, I got up out of my seat, reached into my pocket for cash and pulled out two crumpled dollar bills and the buckeye I’d been carrying. Exactly what I had on me when this whole damn thing started, I thought, as I laid the two singles on the bar in a clump. Looking around, I found a pencil and a napkin, and began scratching out a note that read; Thanks for the drinks. I know I owe you more then this. Be back soon with the rest. Reid. Knowing that Mary would be wondering where I was all this time, I made my way for the door and started to walk to my car when I suddenly realized that Joe’s blinking neon sign had been turned off. “Seems strange,” I said to myself. “Why would he just disappear like that?” Oh well, maybe I’ll find out later, I thought, as I got into my car, pulled out of the space and set a course for home. Driving along, I couldn’t help thinking about the possibility that someone, or something, had put Joe there for me to meet that day. At any rate, he reminded me of the fact that many others had been in my shoes before and had lost money. I wasn’t the first I guess. That was what he wanted to tell me. Then all at once, I found myself wondering if my chance meeting with him might have been part of some greater plan? A plan to teach me one of life’s lessons? The whole action of winning money, then losing it, then having to learn to survive the aftermath and deal with it. A scenario of unavoidable destiny? If that was the case, I wondered, then why did I feel so damn stupid?

After weeks of hiding the facts from my wife and Vera, I finally decided to break down and tell them about my losses. I was never much good at keeping secrets and besides, if I was unable to stay ahead of my monthly bills, they were going to find out anyway. So that was it, I thought. I had it in my mind that I would tell them that Saturday and started looking around my office for the bottle of whiskey I kept behind a book, meant for just such an occasion. Just because the event was sobering, didn’t mean I had to be sober, and as I watched Vera tanning from my office window, I took several long chugs off the bottle. In just a few minutes, I could feel the booze working on me and as I sat there drinking my courage, I watched Mary come out with a cold drink in her hand and sit down in a lounge chair next to Vera. Double or nothing, I thought, as I raised the bottle to my mouth and thought over the prospect of telling them both at once. They’d lately come to like each other much more then I thought possible and though I hated to break up the party, I had to spill the beans, but there was one thing I could do before walking outside to meet my doom. One thing to take the edge off. One thing that I still had faith in and still hoped would save me... the buckeye in my pocket. It had clearly let me down I thought, otherwise I wouldn’t be in the position I was in, but I still believed in it. Taking it out, I held it up in my right hand and let the natural light from the window play on its surface. Those portions nearest the light shone most radiantly and the wood grain lines in it became more apparent then before. It seemed to me to have lines in it that I hadn’t noticed before and it made me wonder if the buckeye wasn’t growing in some way, along with the wishes it granted or the lives it affected. If this were true, I wondered what it would look like in the years to come. Would it retain its dark brown hue, or become one great mass of wavy, grainy lines, growing in time almost as an aging mind achieves wisdom over years. Who knows I thought, anything’s possible. At least, that’s what people say at times when something unexpected or unforeseen happens. And so, rubbing the smooth, natural indentation on its upper surface, I took another long chug of booze, pulled my sagging trousers up my waist and bravely made my way to the glass sliding doors that led to the backyard pool. This won’t hurt much, I thought. Just like a visit to the dentist. It’s just something I have to do, and as I opened the big door - my body, precisely poised between indoors and out, right foot leading the way and about to touch down on the outdoor concrete slab - when suddenly, my cell phone began to ring and the music from; It’s A Small World After All filled the air. Caught in this momentary, real and figurative limbo, I felt as if I were not just between tangible spaces, but between intangible as well. And all those things unaccountable to the senses, spiritual and indefinite became suddenly clear and definite. It was then that I opened the phone and received the call, and just as my foot came to rest on the outdoor pavement, I felt as if I’d made this otherworldly connection. Even so, the call I was about to receive was very much, of this world... “Hey buddy,” announced the caller. “You know who this is don’tcha?” Thinking that this was probably just another one of those contacts from my ancient past, I very unenthusiastically answered the phone. “No, I really don’t know who this is,” I said. “But go ahead, surprise me.” “It’s Ralph.” “That’s swell Ralph,” I answered, still unaware of who it was and the nature of the call. “But If this is about the Lotto money I won, you can forget it. I don’t have anything to give away or loan out. The well’s dry. You’re beat’in a dead horse. Give it up...” “What’re you talk’in about?” asked the caller. “This is Ralph. You know, Ralph Uppins, your accountant.” “Oh, Ralph. I’m sorry,” I said, in an effort to sound apologetic at a time when I felt like stuffing a handgun in my mouth. “I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was just someone else about to ask me for money, or sell me swampland, or some crap like that. I’m feel’in pretty low right now, if you really wanna know,” I admitted, turning away from Mary and Vera, cupping my hand over the phone to keep the girls from hearing my conversation. “I was just about to give Mary the bad news.” “Well don’t,” replied Ralph. “Don’t tell her anything like that. Just go an git yerself a bottle a that bubbly stuff an find yourself a seat boy. Your jerky’s sell’in like hot cakes. They can’t stock it fast enough! An hey, pour one for me too will ya?” “But you told me I was bust, I don’t get it.” “Bust? You’re richer then ever. Don’t ask me how, but everything just turned around. Berserky Jerky is a big success.” “Wowww,” was all I could say. I was speechless, as I closed the phone and walked out onto the pool deck. “Who was that?” asked Mary. “Anyone I know?” “Just Ralph, my accountant.” “What’s the news?” asked Vera, interested in what I might have to say. Knowing I’d been worried about losing everything and going broke. “The news is, I’m rich,” I announced proudly, feeling like a newly knighted squire, or a man of great accomplishment. “Lets go somewhere,” I said. “Someplace far away. Lets spend some loot. C’mon, whaddaya say? I feel like I’ve been through the ringer.” “Why Reid? What’s gotten into you?” asked my wife. “It’s a long story,” I replied. “I’ll tell you on the plane.” “Where are we going?” asked Vera. “Why don’t I surprise you,” I answered. “But for now, lets not waste anymore time. Last one packed is a rotten egg.”

Chapter 5

“Are you gonna tell us where we’re going?” asked Mary. “Or do we hav’ta beat it outta ya?” “Don’tcha wanna be surprised?” I replied, on our way to the Springfield airport. “I thought you liked surprises.” “A diamond is a good surprise,” said Vera, mockingly. “But when it comes to a trip, a girl always wants ta know where she’s headed. How else are we gonna know what to pack?” “Okay, if you really must know, I’ll tell you.” “Yes... c’mon, spit it out,” said Mary. “Where?” “South. We’re headed south.” “South where? Would you tell us already!” asked Vera, getting tired of the game I was playing. “Definitely, south of the border.” “Oh great!” replied my wife, exuberant over my choice in vacation spots. “It’s been such a long time since I spoke Spanish. Acapulco is so much fun, I can’t wait!” “Sorry honey,” I said smiling, prolonging what I thought was a game of harmless deception. “But we’re headed a little further south then Mexico.” “That’s it,” answered Mary, slapping her hands down on her legs for emphasis. “Pull over, I don’t want you ta have an accident while I’m choking you.” “I’ll help her,” said Vera, equally as angry with me for teasing them. “Okay, okay. God, I didn’t think you’d get so worked up over a little teasing. If you really must know right now, we’re going to Moroni. There,” I said. “Are you happy now? Geeze.” “Moroni?” replied Vera. “Where the hell is that? Take me home. Are you joking? Is this a gag?” “Take me home too,” answered Mary. “Couldn’t we just go to Florida? What’s with Moroni? Where is it anyway?” “It’s a tiny island off the coast of Mozambique,” I said. “The perfect place to go deep sea fishing. You’ll love it.” “Are you crazy?” said Mary. “You’ve never been fishing in your life.” “A mild oversight,” I replied. “The situation will correct itself. I’m a quick learner. Besides, nothing can stop the wheels of progress now. We’re nearly at the airport.” “Great,” answered Vera. “Thirty years old an I’m on my way to being tortured and eaten by cannibals. I hope they’re swift and merciful.” “Don’t worry about it,” I said reassuringly. “Your not gonna be eaten by cannibals. Cannibals don’t even exist on that island.” “Do I have your word?” asked Mary. “Are you sure?” “Sure I’m sure,” I said, certain of my decision to bravely explore the great unknown. “I know for a fact, that the ritual of tribal cannibalism isn’t practiced anywhere within a full twenty mile radius of Moroni.” “Thanks for making that clear,” replied Vera. “I feel better already.”

The plane trip to Africa went smoothly, after I finally got my traveling companions to calm down enough. They acted as if I were kidnapping the both of them, when all I honestly wanted to do was have some fun and go somewhere I’d never been. The stress of nearly losing everything in my entrepreneurial quest was getting to me, and I was ready for some fun-in-the-sun relaxation. I always wondered what deep sea fishing was like and I thought that an out of the way place like Moroni was just what the doctor ordered. A snorkeling adventure was also on my to-do list, but I thought I’d better hold off for awhile before taking the plunge. I wanted Mary and Vera to get used to their surroundings before I made any more demands on their sensitive female psyches. After all, I was the man; the explorer; the one they were counting on to help pave the way in this great uncharted and until now, previously unexplored territory known as, the Comoros Islands. At least, it was unexplored by me and I had absolutely no idea where the hell I was going, or what was waiting for me. But so what, I thought. Was Columbus worried? Was Leif Eriksson? Was Reid Laurence? Of course I was, but Mary and Vera didn’t have to know that, did they?

The airport on the coast of Mozambique in the city of Pemba was peaceful and amicable. “There, you see now?” I told my wife as we waited for our luggage. “All that worry over nothing.” “I sincerely hope you’re right. I just would like to know why we couldn’t go to the Florida Keys or some other nice, safe place like that?” “Mundane,” I answered. “Drab, unimaginative, dull.” “You sound like you’ve been reading your thesaurus again,” replied Vera. “Just speak plainly.” “Alright, I will then. I’m innocent I tell ya. I just thought we could all use the adventure and excitement in our lives. Now then,” I said, as our last piece of baggage showed up on the conveyor belt. “We have a boat to catch. Follow me, and lets not dawdle girls.” “I’m tired,” replied my wife. “How long till we reach the hotel?” “My feet hurt,” said Vera. “When can I sit down and take my shoes off?” “Africa isn’t the place for stiletto heals Vera. Look around,” I said, recanting her for what I thought was an inappropriate shoe selection. “Do you see any women here in six inch heels?” “It’s not my fault. You wouldn’t tell us where we were going till the last minute.” “Yeah, quit picking on her,” replied Mary. “It wasn’t her mistake. When do we get there already?” “Soon,” I said. “We get there soon. About another two hours, but it really depends on how fast we can find the ferry boat we’re supposed to be taking.” “So find a cab and tell the driver where we need ta go,” answered Mary. “God, how hard is that? Do I have to do everything?” “No my swan. I have everything under control, you’ll see.” “C’mon then,” said Vera, irritating, but hotter looking then a new set of snow tires. “Lets get crack’in.”

Flagging down a cab was no problem. In fact, cabbies were practically begging me to choose them and God help the customer who picked a cab out of sequence, as the first one in line had to be the one you’d get into or all hell broke out among the drivers. Did I use words like peaceful and amicable before? I might have spoken too soon, but once we got into the right cab and left the airport, things got a lot better. Better at least, until we got to the boat dock. I had just a little bit of trouble communicating with a gentleman who I assumed was captain of our ship, but in a tight spot, Vera came through with flying colors. I was glad we’d taken her along, when I asked him, “Can you take us to Moroni?” and all I got for an answer was a blank stare and a gesture he made to a sign which read...We Speak Swahili Only. “Great,” said Vera. “Anyone here speak Swahili?” “Not lately,” replied my wife. “You got us into this mess Reid,” she said, turning to me. Irritated with the language barrier I hadn’t anticipated. “Now you get us out of it.” “Whadda you want me to do?” I answered. “I came to fish and have a good time. I didn’t come to learn new languages.” “That’s okay,” said Vera. “I know a universal language this guy’s sure to understand.” And as Vera put her leg up on one of the vertical posts used for docking boats, her dress fell back to the middle of her thigh. When she started to speak, she not only got our captains attention, but also the attention of several ships mates who were standing around the dock at the time with their tongues hanging down to the ground, gawking. “Do you speak English?” she asked of the man who’d pointed out the sign. “Oh, yes maam,” he answered, doing his best to get a look up Vera’s sheer, summer dress. “You bet.” “Good. Does this boat go to Moroni?” “Oh yes, it does. You hop in, I can take you there right away. I am Captain Itsandra. This is my crew,” he said, pointing to three of the men who were casually lined up, standing next to each other on the pier. “This is Suvlaki on the left. He is tall, no?” He is tall, yes, I thought. He must’ve been six-foot seven and about one hundred-thirty pounds. The well fed American in me wanted to feed him something right there on the spot, but we had no time for such pursuit. “...And in the middle is Baklava. Him very good worker. Baklava!” shouted Captain Itsandra. “Why you stand there? Get their bags!” And while Baklava scrambled to get our luggage on board, the captain introduced the third young man who seemed unable still to break free of Vera’s spell, and stood frozen in place on the pier. “Ouzo!” shouted the captain once again. “You quit staring at that lady there and help them on board. Why I have to tell you this? Ouzo is sorry maam.” “No need for apologies,” replied Vera. “I’ve been stared at before.” “Yeah, I’ll bet,” said Mary, walking up the ships plank with Ouzo close behind her, carefully observant of her balance on the narrow passage from pier to ship.

Our accommodations at the Hotel Nzwani were better then I expected. Ceiling fans throughout the lobby helped to circulate the hot, humid air and the staff looked sharp and attentive. We had two adjoining rooms waiting for us and the beds were soft and comfortable, complete with canopies and mosquito nets, put in place for what we later found out was an all out war on bugs. But these weren’t just any bugs. These were big bugs. The kind that made wives think about packing up to leave and the kind that made husbands agree with their decision. But I felt the determination of an adamantine warrior. I was going to enjoy my vacation no matter how big the bug threat, as long as they stayed off my pillow and out of my shoes. We had sliding glass doors in our rooms which opened up to a beautiful view of the Indian Ocean and in the far distance, the east coast of Mozambique where we’d made our journey from. The coast of Moroni was littered with fisherman and their boats, and the sight of it all made me wonder about what I might catch in the pretty, unpolluted, clear waters. All of this earthly good caused a sudden foray within me that only a swim on the sandy beach could quell, and I dashed off to the bathroom with my swimming trunks, mask and snorkel, all the time wondering about what great watery vista might be waiting for me below the more superficial, serene blue surface of what appeared to be, a living dream. “Go’in for a swim honey!” I yelled. “Gonna see what I can see.” “Don’t drown on me,” replied my wife. “Be careful.” “Yeah,” said Vera. “If you get hurt, we’ll have ta go home, an we just got here. I wanna see this untamed frontier of yours.” “Sho Vera, you’ve finally come around,” I said, trying to move my lips and speak through the snorkel I had in my mouth. “You she the light now, don’tchew?” “I she you’re gonna trip on your flippersh,” answered Mary. “But the mask you’re wearing is a definite improvement.” “Shank you my dove. I sha’nt be long,” I said, marching through the open sliding door as if it were some line of demarcation between the everyday drab and a whole new world, just waiting to be discovered. The water was the prettiest I’d ever seen. Of course, I hadn’t seen much beyond the usual lakes and rivers of the good old USA and this was definitely, a big change. On my walk down to the shore, I was drawn to a natural inlet, which curved around and formed its own barrier to the rest of the deeper water outside it. I found that it was deep enough to dive into, when I jumped in with my gear on and knew I couldn’t touch bottom. It fascinated me, as I moved my legs and pushed the flippers on my feet through the water for the very first time, paddling my way around to see what I could see. There, beneath the waves were the tiniest of coral reef fish, the kind I’d seen on TV but never thought I’d see in person. And when they showed themselves to the bright, filtered sunlight, I was awed by their dazzling show of color. Swimming to the surface, I let the top of my snorkel expose itself to air as I kept my head submerged and took a deep breath. Gaining confidence, I swam out beyond the protection of the small bay, but as the water increased in depth, my vision seemed to decrease proportionately and many of the tiny fish I’d been looking at only moments before, had now become hidden from view. There, in the dark water below me, slowly wagging its great tail fin from side to side, I saw what I thought was a shark swimming in a large circle, interested in something that I couldn’t see from where I was. Cutting my adventure short, I swam for shore, impressed by what I’d seen but a little shaken by my brush with such a dangerous animal. Swimming in the same water with this stealthy predator was a lot like visiting the zoo with the gorilla cage wide open. Even though he may be a distance away, it’s not a comfortable feeling knowing he’s there, on the loose. Back in the hotel room, I found Mary and Vera dressed in their swimsuits. Not wanting to alarm them, I tried to hide the fact that I’d seen a shark and instead, I started talking about all the pretty tropical fish I’d seen. “You should see ‘em,” I said. “They’ll knock yer socks off.” “I’ll bet,” answered Vera. “See any sharks in the water? This is the Indian Ocean ya know.” “Yeah, I know. Just one little one is all. I don’t think he could eat much. Just a leg or two woulda filled him up.” “Are you kidding me?” asked Mary. Outraged that the sighting of such a beast might put a damper on her vacation. “I came all this way ta swim in shark infested waters. Great Reid, now what?” “Now we do what we came to do, that’s what,” I replied. “We rent a boat and we go deep sea fishing. How’s that?” I continued. “Any takers?” “No,” said Mary, not the least disheartened. “I came halfway across the world ta sit in my hotel room. C’mon putz. You too Vera. Last one ta the boat dock’s a rotten egg.” “Hold on. Just a minute,” I said, rummaging through the personal items in my luggage I’d brought with for the trip - consisting of any and all of those things small enough to be taken along, which remind one of the comforts of home. “Eureka!” I exclaimed. “Found it.” “What now?” asked Mary, anxiously waiting to leave the room. “Whaddaya think?” I asked in return. “My lucky charm, that’s what.”

We were within walking distance of the dock from our hotel and when we arrived, we found our old friends; Captain Itsandra, Suvlaki, Baklava and Ouzo resting on the deck of their boat. From a distance, it looked as if they were contemplating something, talking quietly amongst themselves, passing something between them. What exactly it was they were passing around I couldn’t say, but I did see smoke rising and began to wonder if the wooden deck of the boat had caught fire. If it had though, I thought, then why were they acting so calm? It was then that I started to think they probably didn’t realize they were on fire and when I reached the boat, I ran up the plank in a panic just as fast as I could, to hopefully, get word to them in time to put the fire out and save the boat. “Captain Itsandra!” I shouted. “Quick, quick! There’s a fire on board! Whadda we do? C’mon,” I continued. “We have’ta act fast!” “What you say mon? There’s no fire here. What’s he talking about?” he asked, as the three members of his crew all shrugged their shoulders in near unison. “You crazy mon. All dat fast pace in America got you crazy upset. Here,” he said, holding out his hand, revealing the source of the fire to me. “You need this more then me mon. Take some.” “Sorry,” I replied. “I don’t smoke cigarettes, but it’s good to know the ship’s not on fire. Wow, I guess I over reacted didn’t I?” “You certainly did,” answered Suvlaki in perfect English. “For a moment there, I thought we might actually be ablaze. Why don’t you relax and have a toke? It’s some of the best ganja in the Mozambique region.” “Toke?” I questioned. “You mean... you’re smoking marijuana?” “What else?” replied Ouzo, also in perfect English. “Oh... okay,” I said, after some deliberation, giving in to their kind offer and unaware of what effect this psychotropic drug might have on me. “But tell me,” I added, puffing on the sweet smelling cigarette. “How is it that you two speak such terrific English? You sound better then I do and I grew up in America, speaking it every day.” “Oh that,” answered the Captain. “They meet at the university, that all. Hey look,” he continued. “You hogg’in the joint mon. Give it here.” “Sorry about that,” I said, but as I handed the cigarette back to Captain ItsandraI, I noticed Vera and Mary walking up the ship’s plank behind me and ran out of time to question the men any further. Besides, I was slowly losing my ability to analyze a given situation to any great depth - attributing this effect to what we’d been smoking and for the moment, all I wanted to do was sit down and gaze into the water. “What’s go’in on here?” questioned my wife. “Let’s get the show on the road. Did I see you smoking?” she asked. “You don’t smoke.” “Not until now, anyway,” replied Baklava, in a quiet state of mind and with precise enunciation. “Wow,” remarked Vera. “Where’d you learn to speak like that. You sound like an English professor.” “Oxford,” said the three men simultaneously, giving their cover away completely, and revealing their true selves. “You’re kidd’in,” said Vera, overtaken by surprise. “That’s some tough school.” “You know it lady,” replied Suvlaki. “The three of us did six years each there. Captain Itsandras’ the only one who didn’t go.” “Why not,” asked Vera. “Everyone else went.” “Someone had to pay de bills lady. Here,” he offered Vera. “You Americans so uptight. You take a puff on this. You feel much better.” “Don’t mind if I do,” she said, taking the cigarette from his hand. Watching her, the deep drag she took on it made me think that she was no stranger to it. Before long, Mary, Vera and I were as high as kites. I was now past a stage of introspection and wanted to get on with our adventure and Mary and Vera had become talkative and giddy, sitting on the boat deck on chairs, passing the cigarette between them without a care in the world. But as of yet, the Captain and his crew had no idea why we were there, or what we wanted. I suppose the visit itself had become a source of adventure and for a while, the idea of actually moving my body to go deep-sea fishing had slipped my conscious mind, along with a lot of other more mundane thoughts. At the moment, the biggest problem at hand was to find a way to get everyone up and moving. Normally, that wouldn’t have been difficult at all, but considering the circumstances, it was next to impossible... “Say... Mary,” I asked, necessarily interrupting a raucous conversation she was having with Vera. “We were supposed ta do someth’in taday, weren’t we?” “Yeah, someth’in,” came her reply. “Well, is this the way you wanna spend your day, just sitting here laughing? I thought we came here looking for adventure?” “So go find some,” she said, unwilling to budge. “Whaddaya want from me?” “Yeah,” added Vera. “Nobody’s stopp’in ya.” “C’mon you two, snap out of it,” I argued. “We were gonna go deep sea fishing, remember? I brought my lucky buckeye and everything.” “So go tell Captain Itsandra you wanna go fish,” answered Mary. “What do you expect me ta do about it?” “I expected you to be a conscious and willing participant, but you’re smoking yourself to oblivion,” I said. Angered by our conversation, I walked back to where I’d left the Captain and his mates, only to find them equally as difficult to move, in this, my hour of need. “Can you take us out to sea?” I asked. “I’d like ta go fishing.” “Hmm,” he began, after another deep drag on his cigarette. “What’s in it for me? I don’t do this for peanuts mon. We have a business to run here, don’t we?” he said, referring to his shipmates; Ouzo, Baklava and Suvlaki. “We take you out, sure,” he added. “Fifty bucks.” “Okay,” I answered. “That ain’t so bad. Fifty bucks for the day. Here ya go,” I said, pulling two twenties and a ten dollar bill out of my front pants pocket and offering them to him. “Dat get you one, maybe two hour mon,” he said. “Dat all you want?” “Whadda you mean, ‘one, maybe two hours?’” I asked. “That’s a little vague isn’t it? How much for the day.” “Hundred bucks get you fishing for the day Mon. You won’t be sorry. We show you a good time, you see.” “You drive a hard bargain, but okay,” I said, slapping a new fifty-dollar bill into the Captain’s hand. “You got yourself a deal.”

There were plenty of hours left in the day, the sun was shining and the water in the Mozambique Channel, smooth and calm. The three of us strapped ourselves into swivel chairs that bolted down to the deck and we were ready for action, but as time went by, and as luck would have it, neither of us caught a thing. The wind felt good and the smell in the air was as fresh as an ocean breeze - probably because that’s what it was - but we just couldn’t catch one fish between us, until finally, our luck began to change. “I think I’ve got a bite here,” I said to my wife and Vera. “Look, he’s pulling on the line.” “Don’t let ‘im go!” yelled Vera. “Can you bring ‘im in a little? Wind up that thingy on the handle,” she said in her excitement, meaning of course, the reel. (Neither of us were expert at the sport of fishing, but you can’t blame us for trying, right?) “Okay!” I exclaimed. “I’ve got some slack in the line now. Should I wind up the reel?” “Yes, yes!” shouted Mary. “Of course. Wind it up. Bring him in if you can.” “He’s a fighter!” I yelled. “Help me out. I don’t think I can do it alone.” When the girls heard me, they immediately worked on un-strapping themselves from their chairs and came to my aid. As the three of us pulled on the heavy-duty fishing pole, my prize catch seemed to be getting closer to the boat, and when it did, I wound up the reel a little more each time. In the excitement, I didn’t notice Captain Itsandra behind us, watching, until I instinctively became aware that there were eyes on us. Turning around, I saw him standing there, a few feet behind me with a knowing smile on his face and a great, big net in his hand. “There you go now mon,” he said, when he saw me turn and look. “Didn’t I tell you you’d catch fish today? Was I wrong?” “Nope! You were right on the money,” I shouted. “I think we’ve almost got ‘im. We’re gonna need that net, aren’t we?” “Right!” he said, running to the rear right corner of the boat where he expected the fish to come in. “I can help you now much better from here. I help you pull him in,” he said, taking the thick nylon fishing line in his hand, and yanking on it until, behold! The catch of the day had all but risen from its watery depths! As it emerged, I had visions of mounting it over the fireplace at home. That way, I could tell guests about our trip to Moroni and show off my strange, exotic trophy as I explained the arduous fight he’d given us all. But then I thought, even the best-laid plans are sometimes led astray, by chance, or fate, or what have you... “You catch a sardine mon. Look,” exclaimed the captain. “How tiny he is. You want to throw him back, right?” “It’s a young pilchard,” explained Ouzo, walking over to us. “Roughly two and a half inches long I’d say, wouldn’t you?” “Damn fine trophy fish,” said Baklava, snickering. “We can mount him right here, why wait?” “You don’t have’ta get sarcastic,” I replied. “That’s the first fish I ever caught. Just wait, you ain’t seen noth’in yet.” “Is this gonna take long?” asked Mary. “I’m getting hungry. It’s coming up to dinner time.” “Just give me another hour,” I pled, unwilling to leave without first, having achieved my goal. “We’ve gotta catch something worthwhile,” I added. “I know we can do it. A lot of people do. There’s a whole bunch of cool fish down there. All we have ta do is bide our time. We’ll catch something, don’t worry.” “I hope so,” replied Vera. “If not, we can always eat sardines, right?”

Determined now more than ever, I cast my line out into the Mozambique Channel one more time, still hoping for the fish of my dreams to come along and snag the thick fishing line, making that dream a reality. I’d even gone as far as to consult the buckeye good-luck charm I carried, nearly rubbing the wood grain finish off the top of it in my desire to succeed, but it seemed that all I could catch that day was what I’d already brought up, and that two and a half inch sardine was ruining my reputation as a fisherman before I’d even begun. In fact, the only luck I was having was when I finally convinced Mary and Vera to keep trying for awhile longer. I thought that if all three of us kept trying, then at least one of us had to catch something. In my mind, our outing was fast becoming a matter of statistics and the three of us working at it had increased chances over just one of us. So on we talked and fished until most of the daylight hours had waned to early evening and just when even I had begun to think of giving it up for the day, the unexpected happened - or what I should say is - the unbelievable... “Oh my God! I think I’ve got a fish!” “You’re kidd’in me Mary,” I said. “Holy shit, look at the line stretch. You really do have one! Can you pull ‘im in?” “Yeah,” she replied. “Just a little at a time. He’s really pulling my arms out, but I think I can.” “How come I can’t catch one?” asked Vera. “What did you use for bait that time?” “Baloney,” answered my wife. “Try it, it works like a charm.” “I thought you brought that stuff along to eat,” I said, as I recalled watching her pack some items into her purse before we left the house. “I didn’t know you were gonna fish with it.” “Sure, why not?” she asked me. “Fish gotta eat, don’t they?” “Yeah,” I answered. “I know that, but...” “But what?” “I didn’t realize baloney was on their menu.” “You like it, don’tcha?” “Sure I like it, but...” “So, they like it too - when they can get it, anyway,” she answered, straining to apply a greater opposing force to the fishing line as she explained the virtues of using baloney for bait. “I didn’t even know you brought it with you today,” I remarked. “You told me you wanted ta go fishing, so I put it in my bag.” “Okay, whatever works I guess. You sure you don’t need help with that line?” I asked, worried that as a member of the opposite sex, she’d lose the battle with this deep sea fighting fish - or whatever it was she’d snagged - and we’d wind up the same way we’d begun, with nothing to show for our time and effort. “No, I’m fine,” she replied. “Just get the net. In fact...” she added, about to give metaphorical birth to whatever it was that was emerging from the oceans great, murky depths. “Don’t bother with the net, just help me get ‘im inta the boat.” Unable to believe my eyes when I saw what had risen to the surface, I stood motionless for a few moments and was no help at all to my worn and weary better half. Luckily, Captain Itsandra had been watching us from the opposite end of the boat and when he saw what Mary had caught, still struggling and wriggling on its hook, with half a piece of baloney sticking out of the side of it’s mouth, even he was astonished. “I don’t believe it mon,” he exclaimed. You caught the fossil fish! The ancient one. What you want to do with him? You want to keep him?” “Huh?” I said, still surprised with Mary’s catch. The mere size if which at five feet in length was enough to impress most people, but the fish’s strange appearance was what really caught my attention. Its fins just didn’t look like any I’d ever seen. In fact, it looked as if it might start crawling around on the deck at any moment, using its appendages like legs and at the time, I didn’t know how right I was. “You’ve caught the ‘living fossil’ alright. That’s the moniker that stuck, anyway.” “Whaddaya mean Suvlaki?” I asked. “What’s with the name ‘living fossil’?” “What he means is,” replied Ouzo, “is that you’ve caught a Coelacanth, pronounced; see-la-canth. It’s a relative to the first fish that came ashore to live on land - an event which occurred around three-hundred and sixty million years ago - and believed to have gone extinct about seventy million years ago, until people of the western world came here and began catching them in the late nineteen thirties.” “You forgot to tell him,” added Baklava, “how this event eventually gave rise to reptiles, birds and mammals and many of the species we’re familiar with today.” “Well... shit,” was all I could think of saying. “That’s right,” said Mary. “Be careful what you wish for, it just might happen.” “So what are we waiting for?” I exclaimed. “Lets get ‘im ta shore an take some pictures. Mary,” I said. “You’re now the proud owner of a five foot long ‘living fossil’. What do you have ta say for yourself?” “I’m hungry. Lets get this over with.”

When we got to shore and suspended the fish on a hook for pictures, we observed that we weren’t the only ones interested in what we’d caught. Besides some of the people who lived in nearby villages who happened by just to watch, our picture shoot was attended by some local paparazzi, unbeknownst to us at the time and hungry for a story. Thinking nothing of it, we took our pictures, pulled our newly found sea monster down from its strategically hung position and headed inland for dinner and a good nights rest. As I lay there in bed that night, I couldn’t help thinking over what Mary had told me from time to time, about being careful what you wished for. So far, many of my wishes had been granted, probably due - for the most part - to the buckeye I carried with me. But just how these events would impact my life, I had no way of knowing and at the time, I thought, why should I care? Especially since my life had taken a turn, so much, for the better.

Chapter 6

Waking up the next morning, I couldn’t help noticing the huge cockroach that had climbed the insect net during the night. He was staring me down, trying to intimidate me and I knew it. He insisted on doing battle with me to prove his superiority, so when I got out of bed, I looked for the nearest blunt instrument - secured a mop handle I found in a closet - and challenged him to a war of attrition. Fighting to the end and having done him in - lucky for me because he was at least a good three inches long - I disposed of the corpse before Mary and Vera woke up and scoured the crime scene of any incriminating evidence. No body, no crime I thought, as I prepared to take my morning shower and get dressed. Walking down to the lobby, I decided to get a newspaper to find out what was happening back in the states. There were papers from all over the world at the hotel newsstand and when I picked up a copy of the Chicago Tribune and looked at the headline, I couldn’t believe what I was reading. There, in big, black letters the shocking news line read...

BERSERKY JERKY HEIRESS LANDS ANCIENT FOSSIL FISH!

In fact, nearly every paper I picked up had a similar, if not exact headline or front-page article on the previous day’s event. I was shocked when I saw it. How in the world? I thought. How did this happen? Looking further down the front page, I noticed a picture of Mary - very similar to the one I’d taken of her - standing beside the Coelacanth she’d caught and beaming from ear to ear. Paying for the paper, I was on my way back to the room to give the girls the news when my cell phone started ringing. The ring tone from the song; It’s A Small World After All played on for awhile as I opened the door to our room and sat down in a desk chair, ready to take the call... “Hello,” I said, innocuously. “Mr. Laurence?” asked the caller, in a resolute tone. “Speaking. What can I do for you?” “Allow me to introduce myself Mr. Laurence. My name is Charles, Charles Uppins. I’m a representative from the Greenlove organization. How are you today?” “I’m fine,” I replied. “Hey,” I said after a brief moment of thought, stretching my memory to its upper most limits. “Your name... Charles Uppins. Have you got a brother or a cousin named Ralph? My accountant’s name just happens to be Ralph Uppins.” “No sir, I don’t have a brother or cousin by that name,” he answered. “Well, do you mind if I call you Chuck?” I said. “Is that alright with you?” “That’s fine,” he said. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to the reason for my call.” “You sure you don’t have a long lost cousin named Ralph?” I said, persistent in my search. “It might be someone you never even met. I’ve got cousins I never met. It happens you know.” “I’m sure I don’t sir,” he said. “Now, allow me to get to the point here, Mr. Laurence.” “Shoot Chuck, I’m all ears.” “Have you seen the morning paper sir?” he asked. “Yes, I have,” I replied. “It just so happens, I’ve got one right here in front of me. What’s up Chuck? I mean... what’s the problem?” “The problem is, your wife caught a fish on our ‘red list’ yesterday sir. And if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t seem very disturbed by it.” “Oh,” I answered. “You mean that big, long fossil fish or whatever it is?” “It’s a Coelacanth sir, pronounced see-la-canth. A very rare fish, indeed.” “Yes, I know how to pronounce it, thank you,” I said. “I guess I didn’t realize how rare it is. You say it’s on your ‘red list’? Just what the heck is that Chuck? Some kinda hot sheet or someth’in?” “Mr. Laurence, a red list happens to be a very important list of endangered species. The Coelacanth your wife caught yesterday is on that list. Do you know what the fine is for catching and killing an animal on the red list?” “Ahh... no I’m sorry, I don’t,” I said, after some deliberation. “It’s a ten thousand dollar penalty sir, with up to five years in prison.” “Shit,” I muttered. “I didn’t know that. Is it too late to give it back?” “It’s dead isn’t it?” asked Chuck. “I guess.” “Then it’s too late to give it back.” “Damn, I didn’t know it was an endangered species,” I said. “What can I do?” “Nothing you can do now sir. It’s just a bit unfortunate that you’re famous. Nearly everyone knows you masterminded the product, Berserky Jerky. If it wasn’t for your fame, we probably never would have known what happened, but as it turns out, we have to take action on this. It just wouldn’t appear right to the rest of the world if we didn’t. Do you understand me sir? Have I made myself clear?” “Yes,” I replied. “I understand.” “Very well then Mr. Laurence. You should be hearing from one of our attorneys sometime soon. Until then, Mr. Laurence, if I were you, I’d watch my step.” “Right,” I answered, with a note of sarcasm in my voice and closed my cell phone to end the call. “Who was that?” asked my wife, waking from her silent slumber and pushing the insect net aside to rise from her bed. “Oh, nothing,” I mumbled. “Just someone who wants ta sue me, that’s all.” “What? For what?” “It’s a long story Mary. Why don’t I tell you over breakfast,” I said, as I rolled the newspaper up under my arm. “Be careful what you wish for,” I said, staring out the glass sliding doors to the beautiful clear waters of the Mozambique Channel. “It just might happen.”

When I explained what the phone call was about to Mary and Vera, they had about as difficult a time believing it as I had, but lets face it, pictures don’t lie, so I unfolded the newspaper and showed them both the picture of Mary standing next to her catch. Realizing I was relating the awful truth, they both began to brow beat me over my strange choice of vacation spots and it was finally decided that we should leave Moroni and head out to a more normal - as Mary put it - or suitable locale. Agreeing to leave, to save my skin and avoid any further humiliation, I went upstairs to pack and wondered what we were going to do with the fish we caught. Since it was dead and just about everyone in the world who could read knew it by now, I thought, why not take it with? Heck, what’s done is done, right. I can’t bring the damn thing back to life so why not wall mount it at home like I was gonna do in the first place. So without further ado, I looked around for the biggest garbage bags I could find, set the Coelacanth neatly inside them and in turn, laid it in the biggest suitcase I could find that I’d brought along. That way, I thought, no one would be the wiser and I could at least go ahead with my plan to wall mount my trophy fish no matter what legal hassle might be waiting for me back home. In summation, as far as our quick jaunt to Moroni is concerned, I did have a good swim, saw many