The Visitor's Humor and Other Stories

By Jerome Johnson

The settings for a lot of Jerome Johnson stories seem to take place on a gravel side road somewhere. They are absurd, comical, creative and just to the left of surreal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Sep 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781982252915

Jerome Johnson

Jerome Johnson has accomplished many things that cannot be revealed here. Yet he is allowed to tell you that he has been sent-up by governors and bishops and then knocked down by bar-flies. And he can also tell you he has been accused of singing the right song in the wrong place. And he has been published.

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THE

VISITOR’S

HUMOR

and OTHER STORIES

JEROME JOHNSON

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Copyright © 2020 Jerome Johnson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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844-682-1282

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-5290-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-5291-5 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 09/18/2020

CONTENTS

The Visitor’s Humor

Close Friends

Pain

The Car Wash

Massacre On Rabbit Ridge

A New Life

Buddy

Summit of Peace

Water Tower

Danielle’s Flower Shop

Author’s Note

The Cal-Burn Ball

2044

Led By A Child

Amongst The People

THE VISITOR’S HUMOR

Summer was over. The Labor Day weekend was over. Except for the ones closest to the cities, most of the lake cottages were vacant even on the weekends. Up at the remote northern cottages, the leaves definitely had turned and a pristine Indian Summer held for two weeks.

August and October and their wives have been at their northern cottage for five days now. They drive back up for a week of grouse hunting and fall fishing every year.

October’s a journeyman carpenter. He took off and became a building contractor during a housing boom. After the bubble broke, he laid off three of his men and now works as a carpenter alongside his two remaining employees.

August is an accountant and tax man. He does October’s taxes. This is how they met. They realized soon enough their main interest was the same. After two years of dreaming, they each bought a half-share in a northern cottage.

Their names came directly from their mother’s hearts. A mother’s heart at new baby time is a creative work of art.

October’s name came about like this. When in high school, his mother’s class did an in-depth study of William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. She received a 100 on the test. When her new baby boy was born on the 8th of October, well, it all came together then. She named him Octavius.

When October reached high school himself, the guys called him Awky. He hated it. After he left home, he signed his name October on everything except the most official documents.

August got his name in this way.

His mother was born and raised in Augusta, Georgia. But she married a northerner and lived in the north. She missed her childhood home and longed to go back. So she reasoned if she called her son Augusta, every time she used it, or heard someone else address her son, she would be reminded of her beloved city. If she noticed even a hint of skepticism in anyone’s eyes, she would tell them Augusta is a strong name and people will take her son seriously when he grows up.

When August grew up and walked down the senior halls in high school, the girls grinned and called him Augie. And afterwards they would laugh. He hated this. After he left home he signed his named August on everything but the most official documents.

Their two wives, April and June, always came north with them. The mosquitos are finished and the girls loved the fall colors. Every book in the cottage was bulging with pressed leaves. August’s wife, April, was a petite, good-looking brunette with soft brown eyes.

And June, October’s wife, was a much taller woman and a blue eyed blond. She was a buxom woman and had a bottom two axe-handles wide. But she had a smallish, tight waist and this carried the day. When men glanced at her bottom and many did, inwardly they would snort like prairie stallions. June knew this and therefore was pleased with her shape.

April and June get along better than most sisters, they actually forgive each other. October and August discussed this once, they knew what they had was a rarity. And they realized how lucky they were.

The cottage was well kept. Nothing fancy but well kept. And the lake shore was 60 yards from their front deck. The two men had rebuilt the boat dock during the summer months. With October’s expertise, they had a dock that would serve for many years.

October was the only one awake at 5:06 on the morning of the sixth day. The alarm was set to go off at 5:30. He waited for the alarm.

The day before, the men had a good hunt. They each shot two grouse and in the afternoon they caught six walleyes and a northern pike.

October’s a camo freak. He even bought June a camo matching bra and panty set one Christmas. When June opened it, she thanked him in a Christmassy way. Then she looked at him in polite alarm.

But October, when you need the little things you like so much, you want to be able to find them, don’t you?

October grinned. June held his eyes. When October felt himself blushing, he looked away. June never did have to model the matching set.

October wore head to toe camouflage clothing all week. August wore a loud blaze orange hunting coat. The grouse didn’t give a damn one way or another what they wore.

At 5:24, October’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a garbage can being knocked around in back of the cottage. He lifted his head off the pillow. He waited. Again he heard one can getting bumped against another. October’s habit of dealing with most problems in life was the same way a splitting maul deals with a chunk of firewood. He stepped out of bed quickly. He pulled his jeans on and walked down the short hall to August and April’s bedroom. He tapped twice on the opened door and walked in. October shook August.

Hey, August, wake up. There’s a raccoon throwing the garbage cans around. Help me. Let’s get him.

August never said anything. He crawled out of bed.

April woke up and asked, What is it?

A raccoon’s going through the garbage cans, replied August.

October went back to his room and put his shoes and jacket on. He walked out into the kitchen living room area. Near the door there were two baseball gloves, a couple of balls, and a blue aluminum bat. He snatched up the bat.

August walked down the short hall and into the kitchen.

October said, August, get the flashlight out of that drawer.

August pulled the far right kitchen cabinet drawer out and looked for the flashlight.

He brought it out.

Ready,

August asked, We’re not taking a gun?

No, it’ll scare the hell out of the women. I’ll get him.

Just a bat? asked August.

October grinned and brandished the bat. There’s only one way out of a garbage can, isn’t there? You just keep the light on him.

August took a step towards the back door.

No, October said. He’ll see or hear us for sure. Let’s go out the front door and walk around.

Right, said August.

They quietly stepped out and across the deck. They stepped out into the heaviest fog they had ever experienced. Their faces felt damp immediately. The beam of the flashlight only could drill its way 10 feet ahead of them. As they stepped down onto the grass, they heard the cans in the back again. October motioned and they started to walk around. August kept the light beam just ahead of their feet. Then when they were halfway across the back yard, he raised the flashlight beam up so the animal couldn’t see the movement of their legs or shoes.

They placed their feet down with care and moved silently ahead. The fog was so thick, both men wondered if they were walking in the right direction. Then they were surprised to see the wooden fence that encompassed the garbage cans at the end of the flashlight beam. Both saw that one of the cans was lying on its side behind the fence. October raised his bat. The two took one more step forward. Then they both watched, unbelieving, as like in a dream, a huge black bear stand up on his hind feet. Both of their mouths fell open in surprise. August put the beam up on the bear’s large head.

The vapor particles magnified the bear’s head and height. Both October and August subscribe to a number of hunting magazines. Both envisioned a huge Kodiak grizzly suddenly standing up in some tangled swamp south of Karluk. August’s quick estimate of the bear’s height was 13 feet. October’s flash guess was 11 to the top of his head. Then October saw the flashlight beam turn to the right. He knew August was leaving. He had to run to catch up with the light. In the thick fog, they missed the back steps by 15 feet. They made a quick correction and rushed through the back door.

August said, Damn, I never thought black bears got that big.

Yeah, he’s huge, said October. The granddaddy of them all.

They both sat down at the kitchen table in the same moment. They caught their breath. Neither of them spoke for a time.

Then October said, Let’s get that black son of a gun.

We don’t have a rifle, and only birdshot.

At close range a shotgun will finish anything off, said October.

October rose and walked to the gun cabinet. He took out his shotgun and started loading it. Maybe we’ll get in on the seven screams of death.

What? August asked.

"A bow hunter told me that once. He had arrowed a bear from his tree stand the night before. He came up to me and said, ‘I got in on the seven screams of death last night.’

Seven screams, I said.

Yeah, when a bear is mortally wounded he will always scream seven times before he dies.

You know, like it was the highlight of the hunt. He was revolting, I got away from the guy as soon as I could. October came back to the table and sat down.

This might be dangerous, said August.

So is this. October patted the stock of his semi-automatic 12-gauge shotgun. Come on, let’s get him.

August expressed some reluctance. That’s a huge bear. But he rose, grabbed the flashlight, and headed for the front door.

Naw, it’s okay, said October As long as we’re quiet, we can go out the back. He can’t see us.

They went silently out the back. August kept the light beam out in front. When they were halfway across the back lawn they heard a garbage can bang in front. They stopped. October whispered, He’s at the fish-cleaning station.

They turned back and made their way around the cottage. Their steps shortened when they figured they were halfway across the front yard. The two didn’t realize they were within 15 feet of the fish cleaning station. The resounding crash of a garbage can hitting another filled their ears. Then the bear sounded like a bull running away to their right. October fired three rapid shots at the sound. Then it went quiet.

August asked, Think you hit him?

I don’t know, it’s hard to say, replied October. He won’t be back tonight anyway.

They made their way back through the thick fog. When they entered, they saw both their wives were standing in the kitchen. Both women wore flannel pajamas. April wore pink and June light blue.

June asked, What were you shooting at?

A black bear, a big one, said October.

You should see how foggy it is out there. said August. I never seen such a heavy fog.

What’s the bear doing at the fish-cleaning station? June asked. Didn’t you bury the heads and guts?

No, it was dark by the time I finished cleaning them.

Oh, God, said June. You guys always stay out too late.

What time is it? October asked as he turned to look at the clock for himself. Six o’clock, I bet this fog doesn’t lift until 10 o’ clock.

That changes our hunting plans," said August.

October nodded, Yeah, well, we might as well go back to bed.

The two girls smiled and looked pleased. The men stood up from the table. All four walked toward the bedrooms. April shut the kitchen lights off and left the short hallway light on. They entered their bedrooms. June slipped into bed. She watched as October removed his shoes. Then they all heard the garbage cans in the back rattling.

That bastard, said October. He quickly put his shoes back on.

Honey, let him have the garbage, said June. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow anyway.

October walked out of the bedroom without comment. Outside the cans banged and rattled louder. August came out of his bedroom as October walked down the hall. October turned the kitchen lights back on. August headed straight for the gun cabinet and lifted his shotgun out. October grabbed his shotgun and reloaded it. He watched August load his.

Good, now we’ll spit some lead at him, said October.

August picked up the flashlight and started for the back door. They both stepped lightly to the grass. Then they started across the back yard straight for the garbage bins. August’s flashlight tried desperately to force its beam farther into the fog, but had to settle for nine or 10 feet.

Before they were even halfway across the lawn, they saw it but didn’t believe they were seeing it. And then it was too late.

A large silver garbage can was flying through the air broadside. It was heading straight for the flashlight.

Watch ou --, October started to shout.

August instinctively started to put the shotgun across his front. The can’s impact knocked him backwards and down. The flashlight flew to his left. October rushed for it. He picked the light up and put it alongside the barrel of his gun. He pointed the shotgun in the direction the bear would come.

August, are you all right?

Yeah. He threw the can. He threw the fucking can at us.

Come on, can you get up, August?

August rose.

Let’s get back inside, said October.

They both walked backwards. October swept the light beam left and right as he backed up. They ended up right below the steps. As they passed through the doorway October asked, You’re not hurt, are you.

No, what the hell. Did you ever hear of a bear throwing a garbage can like that before?

October propped his gun against the wall and sat down. A guy that worked for me told me he use to bring his kids out to this dump. They sat in the car and watched bears throw garbage bags out of the dumpsters. He said the bears could tell if a bag had nothing in it to eat. And they would pitch the bag out and dig for another. He said they sailed out a long ways too. That’s why they went there, for the laughs.

Well, I’m not laughing, August said. He was throwing the can at us.

The girls came up the hall and walked into the kitchen.

June asked, Did you see him?

No! They both said in unison.

The girls studied their men for a moment.

Then April said, I might just as well put some coffee on.

August said to no one in particular, I saw a skinned out bear once. He looked just like a human lying there, all arms and legs and pink. I’m telling you, it was enough to make a nun jump back three feet.

I heard that same thing, said October.

This bear would look like a giant laying there, said August.

October scratched his short hunting beard and grinned, If we get him, I’m taking his gallbladder out. The Asian’s claim it put lead in your pencil.

August laughed. The girls both expressed their aloft and recipients smirk.

June sat down at the table with the men. Why don’t you guys just let him do his thing and he’ll leave?

Because he’s on our place raising hell, railed October.

Why don’t we call the police and let them handle it? April said from the kitchen counter.

August looked at his wife. They would tell us to call the conservation department.

And you know what they would say? October glanced at all three and said in a sarcastic tone, Well, you know what to do, don’t you? In other words, shoot him yourself. If the bear was in a residential area in one of these towns around here, they would pull the big live trap out on its trailer in the morning."

April brought the cups and then the coffee over. When she started to pour, the cans at the fish cleaning station begin to rattle and bang.

October jumped up, Damn, that son of a bitch. He walked over and grabbed his shotgun. He suddenly paused, thinking. And then he began grinned. I’ve got it. August, I’ll hide along the north wall of the cottage and then you walk out to the cans. He’ll head for the cans in back. I’ll shoot him as he goes by.

What if he goes around the other side?

He isn’t using that side, said October. He would have to go through all that brush and climb over the neighbor’s rusty fence. We would have heard him.

August got up from his chair.

October turned to his wife, June, would you get the other flashlight from our room?

Why don’t you get it yourself? I don’t like this, it’s dangerous.

October made two steps towards the bedroom. I’ll get it, said June. She walked briskly down the hallway and came back and slammed the flashlight down on the table.

October and August went out the front. When they were down on the grass, October whispered, August, just go a little over halfway and shoot a couple times. And don’t hit my truck. I’ll get him at close range.

Okay, right, whispered August.

Let me go get in place.

October didn’t turn his flashlight on. He used the light emitting from the cottage and the wall for bearing in the heavy fog. The garbage cans were taking a beating again. October worked his way around to the north side. When there, he put his back against the wall. He couldn’t see any light from August’s flashlight. October waited with his flashlight held alongside the gun’s barrel. Then he heard the bear give a loud woof and then two rapid shotgun blasts. His shotgun jumped to his shoulder. One finger on the trigger and one on the flashlight switch. He held this position for a full minute. Then he swore under his breath and lowered his gun.

October turned his flashlight on and walked around to the front. August’s beam was making its way back through the fog. They met below the deck.

You didn’t see him, huh? asked August.

No, maybe he’s gone toward the lake now. Maybe we can-

They heard the cans in back banging, getting kicked around.

August said, Something isn’t right here.

Come on, let’s go in and remove the plugs from our guns.

August shone his flashlight on the deck’s steps. They went in.

June asked, Did you see him? He’s in the back now.

October unloaded his shotgun without comment. He put a full box of shot gun shells on the table. Then he started to remove the plug from the gun. Yeah, we know he’s in back.

What are you doing now? June asked.

Gaining a lot more firepower, said October. Together we’ll have 12 shots now.

I don’t know, something’s wrong here, said August.

What’s wrong? October asked.

I’m telling you, it’s like he’s taunting us.

Bears are smart.

I know they are but that isn’t what I’m talking about. He’s messing with our minds. Bears don’t do that.

Listen, August, back home we had neighbor who kept a lot of bees. The guy went on vacation. When he came home, the bears had destroyed all 40 of his hives. When their bellies were full of honey and bees, they carried hives four supers high down to the river, a quarter mile away. One super loaded with honey can weigh 90 pounds. They stood up and carried them home, and that’s smart.

But this one’s thinking like a human, said August.

Jesus, exclaimed June.

April said, Last summer I heard some local people talking at Don’s Trading Post. They said this summer there were two U.F.O. sightings up here. One was a ground sighting. They saw the aliens walking around in the woods near their spacecraft.

June tilted her head and smiled, April, I hardly think an alien who’s advanced enough to build a spaceship and travel millions of miles to Earth has to disguise himself as a bear while on Earth, or starve to death.

It just came to mind, that’s all, said April.

June turned to the men, Maybe there’s two bears.

No, it’s one bear, said October.

August gazed down at his half-filled coffee cup and said, I don’t think we can get him, he can’t be killed. Not at night.

October threw a spent shotgun shell across the floor. The shell bounced up and hit the wall.

Oh, he’s a phantom.

I didn’t say that, October.

He’s stepping in and out of another dimension.

August started to say, Look how many attempts...

No wonder we can’t kill him, our shot is going right through a ghost bear. Why didn’t I think of that?

They both paused then. It went silent for a time.

Then August grinned, We’re getting testy, aren’t we?

October studied August. His eyes narrowed to such a degree August no longer could see the pupils. Then he watched a curious tightening of muscles on each side of his mouth. The muscles started a upward turn.

No, we’re getting testies.

August and October both burst out in loud laughter. August left fist pounded the table. The girls glanced at each other and rolled their eyes.

August stood up, All right, I’ll get the plug out of my gun and come with you.

Okay, Mr. Bear, said October. We’re going to replace the fog with gun smoke and it’s going to rain lead.

The men moved to go.

Be careful, April said, I heard a wounded bear is very dangerous.

He won’t be that dangerous with two pounds of shot in him, said October. August chuckled.

They walked soundlessly out the back. The garbage cans still were getting bumped around, so they knew the bear was there. When October and August were within 20 feet of the wooden fence, the cans began to make a racket like there was six cans there. At 15 feet, the cans went completely silent. October and August tiptoed five or six feet closer. They put the gun stocks to their shoulders. They could just make out the fence surrounding the cans. And through the fence, squinting, they could see the new galvanized can. It was on its side. But there was only silence. They waited, hardly breathing. They held for 30 seconds or so. Then there was a terrific bang, like a chunk of firewood, or a sizeable rock, had hit one of the cans. October fired his shotgun, August fired his. They both kept firing until their guns were empty.

October laughed as he quickly put two new rounds into his shotgun.

Think we hit him this time? asked August.

We must of.

They stepped forward two paces in the heavy fog. August moved the flashlight beam back and forth on the can area.

Well, October said, We’re not going to look for him in this fog.

No.

Let’s go in.

They went in. The girls observed their husbands, hoping for a positive reaction. October picked his cup up off the table and walked to the counter. He filled his cup and walked back to the table and sat down.

June was annoyed. Did you get him?

Right at that moment, they all heard a horrendous scream out back. October jerked up from his chair.

June jumped up, What was that?

April and August rose.

Then there was another loud scream, like nothing they had ever heard.

Someone answer me. What is that?

The third scream started low and rose in pitch and volume. The small hairs on August’s neck began to prickle and stand up.

Two notches above a whisper, October said, That must be the screams of death. That’s three now.

Then the fourth came, louder yet and full of anguish. April was having trouble breathing. She made an effort to draw in some air and blurted out, I can’t stand this, he’s suffering. Go out and help him.

October headed back to the gun cabinet, I’ll help him. I’ll put him out of his misery.

The fifth scream bellowed out in pitiful wretchedness. And sounded as though the bear was lying just below the back steps.

Come on, August, said October, We better kill him.

August hastily started to load his gun. Yeah, okay, right, we should be able to find him now.

October walked to the back door and opened it, then paused. He watched August put the last shell into his shotgun, When you’re ready.

The sixth scream came. It howled, pealed and tore in every ear with the door open.

April started to cry, What have you done?

Even the hairs on October’s neck began to prickle. But he said, That’s six, one more.

The cries had been spaced out more or less even. The four waited for the seventh. It never came.

Finally October said, He must be dead, let’s go, August.

The two men stepped out with shotguns and flashlights in hand. They didn’t bother to tiptoe quietly down the steps. They sauntered out across the yard. The fog was heavier than ever and it was still dark. October saw the fence ahead. He walked right up to it and open the gate. August kept the beam of his flashlight moving left and right. October stepped around the downed cans.

August also walked through the gateway and said, October, let’s still be cautious here.

Yeah, of course, let’s look around. He’s probably lying within 50 feet of us.

They began to work their way into the brush behind the garbage cans. Then they heard it, disbelieving, they heard it. The garbage cans at the fish cleaning station where banging and rattling.

August said, Oh man, what the--"

October ran back through the gateway, Come on, let’s finally kill that prick.

No, I’m going in. Let’s give this up.

August walked past October. He began to disappear in the fog. The first time August stepped out, he noticed the numerous fairy tents, those spun mantles heavy with dew and suspended in the grass. But he had gave them no thought. Now his bit of Irish ancestry kicked in. Look at all the fairy tents, glistening like diamonds everywhere, I swear I’ve never saw so many. He kicked through a couple tents and water ran off his boots. Maybe the fairies are in league with the bear and maybe this fog will never rise.

October hustled to catch up with August. He followed him into the cottage. August unloaded his shotgun and placed it in the gun cabinet.

October gazed at August, bewildered, But he’s out the taunting us, like you said.

August snapped, That’s just it and he’s winning every round. You have to admit that.

All three studied October intently and waited for the right decision. He could feel their judgment and condemnation.

October gazed back, Maybe this isn’t happening, maybe we’re all still in our beds. You three are sleeping soundly. Only I’m having a nightmare about a bear going through our garbage cans, front and back. Have any of you consider that possibility yet?

They heard the cans taking a real beating. With a tone of defeat, August said, Listen to him, he’s calling us out.

October yelled back at him with emotional sarcasm, Oh yeah, when we step out, he’ll be standing there in the fog with a loaded sidearm strapped to his belt. October turned abruptly towards the front door. He isn’t going to beat me.

You can’t go out there alone, shouted August. And I’m not going with you.

Then I’ll go it alone and kill him, too.

June put her hands on her hips and yelled, You go out there again and I’ll divorce you.

October instantly accepted her gambit, Good, and while you’re on the cell, call my lawyer. October started to walk then glanced back at June. Let’s get it over with, let’s get’er done. He turned away. A slight grin formed on his face. And when he stepped off the deck his face was set with grim determination.

June’s mouth dropped open, her hands fell quickly from her waist.

October disappeared out the front. The cans rattled as he crossed the deck.

He threw caution away for destiny and took big strides. While walking, he hollered into the fog ahead of him, All right, you son of a bitch, come out and face me. You know I have a gun, but you’re 20 times stronger than I am. It will be interesting. Let’s get at it. He stopped and waited then. He waited in the silent fog like he actually thought the bear would show up.

In the cottage, June shook her head and exclaimed, Oh, heaven help us. She started to cry. April rushed up and put her arm around her. August ran for the gun cabinet and started to load up.

The cans started to rattle. October walked slowly ahead. The cans kept crashing and rattling until October was within 14 feet of them. Then there was only silence. October stopped and waited, but only for a moment. With his first step forward, he heard a slight metal sound and then a sharp woof. He fired. He fired all six rounds at the woof. He quickly put two rounds in his shotgun and fed one of them into the chamber. October waited for a sound. Any sound. Then a painful sound entered the hollow of his ears and raced for his brain. His eyes grew round as two grey full moons. He swung around to face the sound. To his unbelieving horror, October heard the cans rattling and banging in back. His chin fell almost to his chest then. And he put the light beam in front of his feet only and walked back to the cottage. The heavy fog had his face damp all right, but by the time he reached the deck steps, there were two salty tears running down on either side of his nose. They were not tears of anger, nor of grieving, they were tears of utter and complete frustration. He rebelliously brushed them off his face and said low, but audibly, Fuck it. This carried no more than four feet in front of him before dissipating in the all-encompassing fog particles.

October stepped up and crossed the deck. He entered the cottage. June and April were sitting close to each other on the other side of the table. August stood motionless near the gun cabinet. October glanced at all of them. He propped the shotgun against the wall. Then he turned back to them and said, Come on, let’s all go back to bed. The girls rose. October went over and took June’s hand. April cut the kitchen lights. The two couples walked down the short hall to their bedrooms.

The fog lifted off around 9:40. It was going to be another beautiful day.

The two women gazed out the picture window and raved about the bright fall colors across the bay.

October and August went to the back to check things over. Neither one talked. They found no trace of blood anywhere. They uprighted the cans. The potato chip bags had been ripped open and licked clean. The five soft apples were gone. The three left over pancakes had been eaten. The bears large claws had perforated the can of dated peaches. He had sucked out all the juice and half the peaches.

They walked around to the front and the fish-cleaning station. August uprighted the cans. One can had taken a direct hit of bb’s and the other can had a large dent. They both spotted one walleye eye, half covered in dirt. It glared up at them. But the seven fish heads were gone. The four grouse heads were gone. October and August walked around the area some. They didn’t find a drop of blood anywhere. October gazed out at the blue lake and the boat tied to the dock, waiting silently without a bob, Let’s gas up the outboards tank.

So they walked down to their boat. They admired it and their repaired dock and gassed up.

April came out on the deck and called out, Lunch!

And the men walked back to the cottage. October was extra attentive and obliging to June all morning. She noticed. He asked the girls if they would like to go out and do some non-serious fishing for a couple of hours. June and April accepted.

After lunch they all walked down to the dock. The lake water was silent and placid and August gunned the motor. If a person didn’t look back at the wake, it was like racing cross a blue mirror. When the girls raved about the fall colors across the bay, August nosed the bow of the boat east and took them over. The shoreline had only a narrow run of sand and then large rocks. August found a suitable landing. June and April hopped ashore. They were excited and climbed up the rocks and disappeared in the trees.

The men kept the boat onshore. August cast his line out from the back of the boat. The girls soon came back with a array of branches, blaze orange, reds, and sun yellows with a touch of green mixed in.

They motored back across the lake then.

October and August had coffee and a sandwich. Then they went out, October jumped in his pickup and backed up to the boat trailer. August hooked it up. October then back up to the shore and they winched the boat onto the trailer.

And there the boat would stay until next summer. They packed their fishing tackle in the back of the pickup.

An hour before the sun set, they went grouse hunting. There was a light wind and the trees had gone through many frosty nights. The leaves fell like rain now. They fell on October’s and August’s shoulders, they bounced off their gun barrels, and piled up on the forest floor. October loved their smell. They smell the same as frosted pumpkins and pumpkin vines, the very same scent coming off a frosted corn field. Isn’t that something, he thought.

They could hear the grouse running on the fallen leaves. They both admired their camouflage and how the blended in with their surroundings. They could have shot six that evening. It was October who suggested they shouldn’t shoot any grouse. He said, We’ll nail them next year. We have eight breasts to take home anyway.

So they walked in empty-handed and had supper with their wives. The girls had made a beautiful arrangement of the colorful branches. They placed it in the center of the table.

The women had everything packed and ready for the trip home in the morning. They played cards that evening. The dilemma with the bear was avoided entirely. In the back of October’s mind, he planned to bring it up and hash through it with August, say sometime in December. August was thinking more towards the end of January, if ever. The bear never came back. They all got a good night’s sleep.

At 7:47 the next morning, the mattresses could be heard squeaking with rhythmic candor in both bedrooms. The supporting box springs joined in during the rhapsody.

At 8:51 April, June, August, and October sat down to a healthy breakfast. And the branch posy in the center did most of the talking.

CLOSE FRIENDS

A powerful gust of wind slammed up against the old hip-roof barn. The large timbers and their wooden dowels squeaked and moaned. Then the wind rushed across the empty, weed-invested livestock yard. It raced across the overgrown lawn and hit the vacant two-story farm house. And the Remax Reality sign vibrated and shuttered in the tall grass.

In the southeast corner of the lawn, next to the barnyard fence, a spruce and an apple tree grow. They’re having a conversation.

Two of your limbs are touching me Apple! Get them the fuck off, said Spruce.

The winds tossing me all over the place. I can’t help it! yelled Apple.

God I give anything if they would have planted you a 100 miles from here.

Apple shouted, Why would the farmer plant his apple tree a 100 miles from where he lived?

"Only a diseased riddled apple tree would fall for such an improbable statement. How could she? I’ll tell you why, the bitch is no longer playing with a full deck. She’s sick.

The wind died down.

You know what, I’m getting fed-up with your insults, said Apple. Your talk is dragging me down.

"Yeah, your disease is literally killing me. The five limbs you keep touching are turning brown and losing their needles. You blight riddled runt!

Apples voice broke. She whimpered. No one’s taking care of me. Apple trees have to be pruned and wrapped and sprayed for insects. And then be kept out in the full sun. You son of a bitch! You have me in the shade by 3:00 in the afternoon now.

Hey, I didn’t plant myself so close to you, the farmer did.

Apples sniveled. When we were babies it must have looked like the distance was okay.

He was wrong, and a spruce tree doesn’t need care, it needs space. I’m young yet and 28 feet tall and I won’t even make middle age the way it’s going. Spruce looked down at Apple. Even in a light breeze your filthy limbs touch me, you creep-show.

How do you know I haven’t caught this shit from you? I was lush and green and heavy with apples a couple years ago. Maybe it was you that started touching me.

Yeah, horseshit. Spruce looked Apple up and down. Look at you. What have you got left, maybe three or four healthy limbs all the rest have the blight."

I’m snowy white with blossoms every Spring. I look great.

Yes, and then right after the blossom all your little apples fall like rain to the ground. You’re sick limbs can’t hold them. What do you have this year? Maybe 10 apples.

Okay, so I need help, not insults, said Apple.

Spruce scuffed, Who will pick the good ones? No one. The bluejays will fly in when they’re ripe and drill holes in them, or maybe you’ll get lucky and the bear will show up.

Apples leaves shuddered with fear. Shut-up Spruce!

Yeah, I hope the bear comes back and breaks every limb in your body.

"Stick it up your tulip, Spruce!

Apple began to cry.

Spruce went silent.

Then Apples voice rose dreamy and hopeful. "I remember and it wasn’t that long ago. My limbs were healthy and loaded with the most beautiful apples you ever saw.

Spruce, commented with a complete change of voice. "I remember, Apple, you were radiant and your perfume was wonderful.

The farmer and his two oldest kids picked then carefully and with reverence. His oldest son climbed a stepladder so he could reach the top ones. And I heard nothing but praise from the sound in their voices.

Yes, said Spruce.

The next morning I watched the farmer put two cases of my apples into his truck and he drove off to town. And one hour later he was back with them. I know what the manager of the supermarket told him. We don’t need your apples. We get all our apples from Washington or B.C. The farmer more than likely said, But that’s 1500 miles from here. And the manager would say, As long as they’re red and can withstand six months of cold storage that’s all that matters. We put them in bags that read, Extra Fancy Apples and people buy them."

Six months! Hell, they’d taste like a watermelon rime by then.

I’m busy. Okay, the manager would say with finality and he’d walk off.

I remember your healthy years. They were good, Apple.

Thank you, Spruce.

But look at you now, with mostly wilted leaves and blackened bark. The ants have climbed up and are lapping up the sweet sap from your leaking sores.

I wish the farmer would come back. He’d take good care of me. But the damn sheriff run him off.

The sleaze-bag banker and the bankers, banker ran him off, the sons of whores. The sheriff was forced to do his job. I remember how long he sat in his car and reluctantly got out and walked to the house.

Apple and Spruce killed the rest of the afternoon mostly complaining about each other. Then dusk and night came. And they slept.

The next morning before the dew was off, they both got right back at it.

Get your stinking limbs off of me Apple! Hey, I forgot to tell you I had a dream last night the bear showed up?

Shut the fuck up Spruce. He isn’t coming back this year. I don’t have enough apples to attract him. There’s really only one beautiful apple at the top.

"Isn’t that pitiful, an apple tree with only one good apple. You have three dead dangling limbs that the bear broke a couple years ago.

Eat dog shit, Spruce, you ridiculing conifer bastard.

Spruce gloated, "You know as well as I do, he’ll climb up in the middle of you and reach for every apple. And if he can’t reach it he’ll pull the limb back until he can. Snap! Snap!

You’re a friggin cone-head for sure, Spruce.

The September morning grew hot. By 11:00 the mature grasshoppers rose out of the overgrown grass. They flew across the wild lawn white with daisies and red with clover. And their wings clicked during their short flight.

At 1:30 a big SUV pulled into the driveway. There was a Remax reality logo on its side. A hefty real estate woman stepped out. A couple in their late 30’s stepped out also. They both wore shorts.

Apple and Spruce went silent. They watched the three. The restate woman mouth never stopped moving. Soon the three walked into the house. Fifteen minutes later Spruce noticed they were upstairs inspecting the rooms. He caught the man staring out the window looking directly at Apple and him. And he noticed the wide mouth of the real estate woman still moved with aggressive vigor.

Twenty minutes later they came out and climbed into the SUV. Apple and Spruce watched as papers were passed around and signed. Before they left, the real estate woman stepped out and put a sold sticker across the one staked in the yard. They drove away.

What do you think Spruce, did those people buy the place?

"It sort of looks that way. Shit! A couple fuckin degenerate Generation Xers. From here on in we’re not only going to be bored to tears, we’re going to be in danger?

Danger, what do you mean?

Their values Apple are nothing like the farmers or his wife. Generation X people are, me, people. They’re divided even in marriage, it’s never really us, but me. They’re barbarians with money, and nothing on earth is more dangerous than a barbarian with money.

You’re scaring me, Spruce.

A week later workmen came and the foundation for a three port garage was laid. It would be attached to the house. House painters arrived and the house was repainted. And other workmen entered the house and renovations were made there. Then pavers came and driveway was paved.

After they left a moving van backed up to the house and furniture was carried in.

Three days later the couple drove up to the house and the man carried their baby in.

Apple and Spruce had taken all this activity in. Apple was excited by all the changes. Spruce remained apprehensive.

They really fixed the place up nice didn’t they Spruce?

Did they? Do you think so?

Well, they’re improvements aren’t they?

Are they? I think they’re extravagances and not improvements. Look across the highway. Those Gen Xers bulldozed down a perfectly solid farmhouse and put up an ugly 3000 square foot outhouse. And the two degenerates and their flea-bitten dog only use it to crash there.

Yeah, they’re never home," said Apple.

A light wind stirred through their limbs.

The farmer and his family got by just fine with the practical and they were happy said Spruce. And get your filthy limb off of me. You make my bark crawl.

Yeah, and your roots are sucking swamp water, said Apple.

"Like hell they are. My roots don’t go under the road and way over there.

"Yeah, they do, you