next to the toffee tree

“what do we learn from this kind of death? what can we learn?”

* * * * *

melvin walked, hands in his pockets gently holding two twenty dollar bills. melvin’s eyes clear and direct. for every good king knows one thing, there is a time for peace and a time for war. a time for mercy and a time for justice. and melvin was not going to allow for one of his subjects to be treated this way without a stern rebuttal. when melvin had seen the girl sitting there, crying, something in his heart sparked, and now the fire was burning strong and bright.    

* * * * *

“is this a shakespearean tragedy robbed of the prevailing good?” the voice going out into the allready sun baked morning air and nestling into the brand new stems of green grass.

* * * * *

melvin had a plan. the rain had been constantly falling since he had abandoned the truck and he had become quite wet. but that wouldn’t matter because he was coming to his first destination. the old patkins farm.

robert paktin still lived there are had for thirty years been trying to sell the object of melvin’s current desires. it was a lawn tractor, orange in color with a black padded a seat. melvin knew that the forty dollars he was carrying was a generous offer for the 1972 beast made out of steel, plastic with a wicked sense of humor when it came to the question of perfect working order. after a few moments of bargaining with robert, the tractor was his for all forty dollars.

he jumped on, a fine steed, something with this much spirit (good or bad) was not going to give up in the face adversity. a fine steed indeed.

* * * * *   

“for what cost is our courage purchased?”

* * * * *

thick dark clouds were setting in and the once gentle spring rain into a fierce storm. melvin turned on the fog lights of the garden tractor, and due to some electrical error the lights shone extra bright as the tractor poped and clanked its way down main-street as the rain became more and more forceful. becuase of melvins thorough surveys through the town of plainfield he knew exactly where jake dawson lived. 

a large thunderclap sounded overhead as melvin cranked the wheel and turned on to the dawson family lawn. melvin pushed the gear shift forward and the tractor kicked into it’s top speed as it rumbled and whined its way towards the large picture window of the living room.

melvin, soaked in the adrenaline could hear the overture rising around him as he continued to plow up the lawn. he grew closer and closer, the music rising in his chest – and then,

a large boom thunder that echoed its way down all the streets, alleys, and back yards of the town.   

melvin lay, his chest rising and falling slowly, listening to the rain pound down on the lawn beside him. and he know he was going to loose it all. melvin was bleeding and shaking…but he would be still soon. the open door of the house creaked on its hinges as the bewildered man lowered a rifle. the tractor’s engine sputtered and stopped, and a few seconds later the lights dimmed and went out. the tractor rested there, soaked in glory, giving a mystified look as the the water poured over its brow.

* * * * *

“what do we learn from this kind of death?” lizzie repeated tears in her eyes. “i don’t know what to learn from his death, but his life is ingrained into our hearts and our town. he was not a perfect man, and he did a lot of strange and even wrong things while he was here with us…but he was as we all are, just trying to find our way back home.” lizze paused and listened to the birds singing for a few moments. “but spring comes with hope that ashes will bring forth lilies and what was lost in an old promise can be gained in a new one.” lizzie took a piece of the dark earth and threw it onto the coffin.

the crowd milled and dispersed but lizzie stayed for a while. she eventually sighed and left with friendworthy tagging along behind her.

the men, who before were standing back leaning on their shovels, moved in. they burried the coffin and sprinkled new grass seed on the fertile soil.

[so this was a true story and in it the man that shot the ostrich man does go to jail. overall the short story was a good effort i think, but it had a lot of holes and inconsistantcies, but in some ways it was a more like a practice arena for my short story abilities, and now i have another true hometown story that i want to start working on, but i would like to release it all at once instead of installments. hope you enjoyed the ostrich man. peace]

it was another damp spring day as lizze sat in the ditch crying. a light misty rain was falling creating large shallow puddles on the highway; one of which lizze was wearing after the passing of an 06 dakota. this only made things worse. she had been trying to flag down passing vehicles with no success for quite some time and with her mental and emotional stamina at its bitter end, she sat down under the “Plainfeild 14 Km” sign (safe from any more puddle incidents) and she cried.

cars passed now and again but only faint sounds could break through the walls that lizzie had made out of her tucked knees, wet jacket colar and dripping hair. these walls made a private space for her cold wet face to be warmed by her tears.  

sqwish sqweesh sqwish sqwish. lizzie looked over her right shoulder. a decrepit looking, rusty truck had pulled up behind the march family minivan, and melvin merkle was making his way down the slope of wet dead grass. lizzie turned away, the tears still coming.

melvin sat down in silence and for a few moments the two sat listened to the hush of the rain.

in the silent company a certain amount of peace was finding its way into lizze and the tears were coming a lot more slowly now. “i ran out of gas.” she said.

melvin stayed silent.

“i was just avoiding going to that stupid gas station on the weekend…”

melvin stared straight ahead at the oppisite side of the ditch.

“i…” she was begining to cry more violently “i…just couldn’t…see him.” she sobed for a few more seconds and then brought herself under control. “you see i was seeing that boy that works there, his name is jake. i thought he was a really cute guy and when he asked me out i was so excited i thought we would be so happy…but he never did take me out anywhere, he just wanted me to ‘really show that we were together’ when we were at school. it was just like in all those high school drama’s on TV…except i really thought he cared.” she couldn’t hold the tears in anymore as her chest heaved for air.  ”i feel so stupid.”

for melvin it was one of those moments when we feel so increadably human and are put face to face with what a child we still are.

and then

then lizzie felt something strange and wonderful. it was the feeling that someone is catching you from a hard fall. 

melvin had wrapped his jacket around the girl.

“one minute” melvin said getting up leaving a clean hankerchief in her hand. he returned five minutes later to find lizzie mostly recovered. “i filled the tank of the mini van with extra gas that i had in the back of the truck. there was probably enough in there that you could make a trip to town and back home…and then you wouldn’t have to swing by the gas station on monday.”

“thank you” lizze said wiping the tears from her cheeks. she pushed herself on to her feet and walked over to melvin. “here is your coat.”

“you keep it, your coat is still wet.”

“thank you…” she didn’t exactly know how to adress him, but she knew she didn’t want to call him ostrich man, ”thank you…friend.”

she hugged him, got into the minivan and drove away.

melvin waited for a minute, and then began to walk.  he had drained the truck’s tank.   

[ok, so i totally demolished the narrating voice, and by now my characters are ridiculusly dynamic, but i like it.  p.s. there will be another installment] 

“there you go friendworthy” melvin said affectionately to his large tabby cat. “you munch on that for awhile. yummy yummy.” friendworthy was melvin’s primary receiver of kingly love and, compassion. the cat did not care too much for the loud streets of town, but rather preferred cashing mice in and out of maze of ostrich talons, and sitting on fencepost number one watching for Melvin’s broken down rust bitten truck to pull up the lane. melvin had always said that friendworthy was his anchor, his picture of what was still good in this modern  world.

 “a more constant friend, one can’t find in this world upside-down priorities. and people are always so hung up on verbal communication. just because he can’t talk doesn’t mean he can’t talk. “ 

“well yes melvin animals have their special ways of communicating.” mrs. manchuck said as she placed a reminder for the men’s breakfast on the church bulletin board. 

“see there’s my point right there. people don’t say ‘talk’ anymore they say ‘communicate’. why is everyone so scared of talking animals?”  

“I don’t know, melvin.” mrs manchuck said sighing. 

“rudyard kipling wasn’t, walt disney wasn’t, and i’m not.” Melvin exclaimed raising his voice and pointer finger.

then there was silence. “is there anything i can help you with today melvin.” 

“when are the potlucks scheduled for this month?” 

“well…um lets see…” she paused and looked up from her appointment book. “melvin?” 

“yes?” 

“you are the kind of man that always says exactly what is on his mind, right?” he nodded. “well do you mind if I say what is really on my mind?” he shook his head from side to side. “why do we always see your perfect attendance at the potlucks of our church, but have we ever seen you attend one sunday morning service?” mrs. manchuck could see that melvin was preparing to say something very insightful, whether she would truly appreciate it or not. 

 “well I don’t have a fancy teal study bible or anything, i guess i just got the small red one i got when i was in grade five but it seems to talk a lot about breaking bread, and having a good meal together.”

  “april 6^th, good friday potluck.” 

melvin walked out the door, not stopping to rigorously inspect the bulletin board in the usual fashion. thoughts of this transaction plagued mrs. manchuck’s thoughts all afternoon. not about the content, but about the unusually coherent delivery the ostrich man’s final statement.    

melvin merkle took a breath and then holding it in made three succinct smackering sounds with his large lips as only a prairie farmer can. melvin was king. and not just today, oh no, not a passing moment of glory,  for everyday added more desicive proofs that he reigned supreme over the small town of plainfield, and its dimwitted occupants. you see, melvin was an ostrich farmer.

“it takes a cow to feed a cow.” melvin said in firm and direct voice.

“um, well…what exactly to you mean by that mr. os-um…uh…” the sixteen year old girl winced. “sorry i don’t know your name.”

“it takes a cow to feed a cow.” melvin said, his eyes extemly wide and tall as he looked down on the shear stupidity of ms. lizzie march. “don’t you see?!” he said, the last word gaining in volume and coarsness like a skateboard ramp. melvin stared with his enlarged eyes for three more full seconds. this was awkward for lizzie and thus she became very interested in the tufts of grass growing to her right, around the double base of the ”RACE TRAC GAS” sign. 

lizzie had come to the lonely non-town-side-of-the-highway establishment to purchase a quarter tank of gas for the family vehicle and perhaps a chance to talk to the handsome blue eyed boy who ran the cash register on weekends. she did not know melvin merkle’s real name, for in the town of plainfield most of the persons (basking in his glory) unable to intellectualize a better title, knew him as ”the ostrich man.”

one of the many reasons that melvin was a most excelent king was that he did not sit on some throne resolute in his pride. no he took to surveying the streets of plainfield and the surrounding highways looking for those upon which he could endow wisdom. it was in the midst of one of these kingdom inspections, that he came upon the young damsel, lizzie march. in their initial silence melvin could see, that she couldn’t see. and before she had said anything, melvin made a decision: she was his subject, his responsibility. she should know. 

“it takes a cow to feed a cow. i wouldn’t let a cow start walking on two legs putting on a flowery apron and sloping some tasty beef stew into my blue tin plate? would i? i reckon i would shoot a cow walking on two legs wearing a flowery apron.”

“yes…” lizzie said looking down and then looked up into the giant saucers and asked. “why is a cow serving beef stew.”

“that’s my point ms. march if i let a cow serve me i would be…” he paused for dramatic effect. “bovine.”

“well, i guess that makes sense…” lizzie lied. melvin could see that she couldn’t understand his higher teaching, but melvin containing kingly qualities such as grace, and never wanting to tear down his subjects too harshly, encouraged her.

“its about looking around you,” he looked off into the distance slowly panning across the horizon with his pale eyes. “seeing what is there, and processing it into something unseen…” melvin really liked to pause for dramatic effect. “…thoughts.” melvin, satisfied with his impact on the young mind, turned and plodded away, the fine grime of an early spring crunching methodically under the soles of his shoes. lizzie, a little shaken by the encounter, continued in her previously planned pursuits. 

shing a ling ling ting ting…ting ting…ting. “hey.” the seventeen year old boy put down the box of chips he was carrying.  

“hi jake.”

“what were you and the ostrich man talking about?”

“things that are unseen.” she said quietly.

* * * * *