next to the toffee tree

Episode 1

Melvin Merkle took a breath and then holding it in, made three succinct and satisfying smackering sounds with his large lips. Melvin was king, for everyday added more decisive proofs that he rightly 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, looking straight into the eyes of Lizzie March. “Don’t you see?!” He said, the last word gaining in volume and pitch. Melvin stared with his enlarged eyes for three more, full seconds – very full seconds. This was awkward for Lizzie and thus she became very interested in the tufts of grass growing to her right, around the 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 people (unable to come up with a better title) knew him as the Ostrich Man.

One of the many reasons that Melvin was a most excellent 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 his wisdom. It was in the midst of one of these kingdom inspections, that he came upon this young damsel, Lizzie March.

“It takes a cow to feed a cow. I wouldn’t let a cow start walking on two legs; put on a flowery apron and slop 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 back up into the giant saucers and asked: “Why is a cow serving beef stew.”

“That’s my point Ms. Marsh 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 he thought she might need some encouragement.

“It’s 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 card board box he was carrying.  

“Hi Jeff.”

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

“Things that are unseen.” she said quietly.

 

Episode 2

     “There you go Friendworthy,” Melvin said affectionately to his large tabby cat. “You munch on that for awhile. Yummy-yummy.” He smiled. Friendworthy was Melvin’s primary receiver of love and affection. The cat did not care too much for the loud streets of the town, but rather preferred chasing 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 of upside-down priorities. And people are always so hung up on talking. 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.” He added apostrophises to the final word with dramatic finger motions. “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. There was silence. 

“Is there anything I can help you with today Melvin.” 

“When are the potlucks scheduled for this month?” 

“Well…um let’s 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. 

“Well, I don’t have a fancy study Bible or anything, I guess I just got the small red one I got when I was in grade five but it seems the Lord liked to sit down with his disciples and have a good meal together…and It doesn’t say anything about hard wooden pews that hurt my tailbone.”

     “April 6^th, Good Friday.” 

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. She wouldn’t be going alone to the church anymore.    

 

Episode 3

It was another damp spring day as Lizzie sat in the ditch crying. A light, misty rain was falling creating large shallow puddles on the highway; one of which Lizzie was wearing after the passing of a 2006 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 Plainfield 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 collar and dripping hair. This fortress made a private space for her cold, wet face to be warmed by her tears.  

Squish sqweesh squish sqwash, Lizzie looked over her right shoulder. A decrepit, 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 that silent company there was a certain amount of peace that was finding its way into Lizzie and the tears were coming 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 opposite side of the ditch.

“I…” she was beginning to cry more violently “I…just couldn’t…see him.” She sobbed for a few more seconds and then brought herself under control. “You see I really liked the boy that works there on the weekends. And so last weekend, I decided to be brave and just come out and say it. He didn’t feel the same. He told a bunch of his friends, even though he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone! And now it is over the whole school that I was rejected…I feel so stupid!”

Tired of being sad, and tired of crying she was beginning to reach down for some anger from the pit of her stomach, but then she felt something strange and wonderful. It was the feeling that someone is catching you from a hard fall, or at least holding on to you as you look over an edge. Melvin had wrapped his jacket around the girl.

“One minute,” Melvin said getting up leaving a clean handkerchief in her hand. He returned five minutes later to find Lizzie mostly recovered. “I filled the tank of the minivan with extra gas that I had in the back of the truck. There is probably enough in there that you can make a trip to town and back home…and then you wouldn’t have to swing by the gas station.”

“Thank you” Lizzie said wiping the tears from her cheeks. She pushed herself on to her feet and walked over to Melvin. “Here is your coat.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you…” she didn’t exactly know how to address him, but she knew she didn’t want to call him Ostrich Man, “Thank you.”

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.

 

Episode 4

“What can we learn from this kind of death?”

* * * * *

Melvin walked, hands in his pockets gently holding two twenty dollar bills. Melvin thought very little, at this point, about what he was about to do, but he knew he knew that there is a time for peace and a time for war, a time for mercy and a time for the full justice. Melvin was not going to allow for one of the persons under his care 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.   

* * * * *

“Where might we find the lesson in all of this?” The voice went out into the already sun baked morning air, finally 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 Patkin’s farm.

Robert Paktin still lived there and 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 and plastic. The tractor had a wicked sense of humour 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 evil) was not going to give up in the face adversity. A fine steed indeed.

* * * * *

“Is our lesson in courage, or rationality; pessimism or hope?”

* * * * *

Thick dark clouds were setting in and the once gentle spring rain was now a fierce some storm. Melvin turned the fog lights of the garden tractor on and due to some electrical error, they shone extra bright. As the tractor popped and clanked its way down main-street, the rain became more and more forceful, and the drops began to sting his face a little. But luckily, because of Melvin’s thorough surveys of Plainfield, he knew exactly where this boy lived. 

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

Melvin, hearing the adrenaline pump in his ears ploughed up the lawn with an expressionless face. When he had covered almost half the distance of the lawn, he prepared for the final push, he took a breath and then holding it in, made three succinct and satisfying smackering sounds with his large lips. Melvin was king.

A large boom thundered and echoed its way down all the streets, alleys, and back yards of Plainfield. Melvin now lay with his chest slowly rising and falling, listening to the rain pound down on the neatly cut grass beside him. And he knew he was going to lose it all. Melvin was bleeding and shaking…but he soon stilled. The open door of the house creaked on its hinges as the bewildered man lowered a rifle. The tractor’s engine sputtered and stopped with no turning of key, the wheels rolled in silence for a few more feet and stopped yards short of the picture window. The rain poured down on the newly silent scene. The lights of the tractor dimmed sporadically then went out. The tractor stood there, soaked in glory, giving a mystified look as 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.” Lizzie paused and listened to the birds singing for a few moments. “And spring comes with hope that ashes will bring forth flowers 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.