by James Ross
Captain Jer glared at Pork Chop. He wandered over to the music and said, “I’ll fix this stuff.”
“No, don’t,” Dr. DV urged. “He’s got enough troubles. Let him have his music.”
Captain Jer looked over his shoulder and said, “I’ll just play a little joke on him.” He picked up the boom box, opened the back, and popped out four batteries. “There, now we can have some peace and quiet.”
“I don’t know why you’re so bothered by the noise,” Pork Chop said. “It’s not going to help your game.”
“We’ll see,” Captain Jer said. He stood up over his ball and Pork Chop’s cell phone started ringing. The pilot turned to Dr. DV and whispered, “Watch this.” Captain Jer ran to Pork Chop’s cart that was parked on the cart path and at least forty yards away from the player. With a slick move he turned the cell phone off, pulled an old cell phone out of his pocket, and ran twenty-five yards to the lake. He pulled his arm back and heaved the old cell phone into the water.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Pork Chop yelled.
Captain Jer loved playing practical jokes. He and Fred had it planned all day. “Now we don’t have to listen to that cell phone going off in the middle of my swing either.”
Fred, in the group behind them, was laughing his tail off as Pork Chop’s mouth flew open, dumbfounded.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
It didn’t take long for Pork Chop to figure out that he was the butt of a practical joke. He and Captain Jer shook hands and made amends. “You haven’t missed a beat, have you Jer?” Pork Chop blurted as Captain Jer popped the tab on his tenth Bud Light of the afternoon. After placing their clubs in their cars the gang entered the clubhouse.
Captain Jer frowned and puffed out his lower lip. “Don’t intend to either.”
“Why is that?” Paul asked.
“On vacation,” Captain Jer stated matter-of-factly. “It’s no surprise. You know that.” He let out a burp that the others could smell at the back booth. “And it’s permanent.” He wiped the creases of his lips with the back of his wrist and smugly flashed a tight-lipped grin.
“Some guys have it made,” Elia said.
“Do you think so?” Paul said as he challenged him.
Elia nodded his head up and down. With his thick Middle Eastern accent he said, “Hell yes! The son-of-a-gun doesn’t have to work anymore.”
Paul spoke his mind in the presence of the others. “But look at him. He’s in a half-blind state of confusion. See what not working did for him.”
The tight lipped grin increased in size across Captain Jer’s face. He clasped his hands together, placed them on his stomach, and twiddled his thumbs. Then he threw his head back exposing his Adam’s apple to the others. He stared at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and started to chuckle to himself. “Don’t give me the holier-than-thou ritual, Paul.”
“He doesn’t have to work either,” Pork Chop chimed in reminding Paul that he was on a government pension and could spend every day at the golf course as well.
The ribbing was in full force. “Heck, you’ve got a lot of room to talk,” Paul reminded Pork Chop. “You’re in disarray too.”
Pork Chop looked bewildered. “Why do you say that?” He looked down at the tremendous belly that he had accumulated over the winter months. “Just because I like to eat?”
“Yeah,” Paul confessed. “One of you wants to drink himself to death and the other wants to eat himself to death. Both of you are a muddled mess.”
“We can’t all be the picture of perfection,” Captain Jer spat back. He was inebriated and looking for a good fight.
Paul backed off. “The only reason I say that is because I think the world of both of you guys. It would be nice to see both of you stick around for a while,” Paul admitted. “You two need to back off a little. Learn the meaning of moderation. I mean, look at you Jer; are you going to depend on Dr. DV to drive you home every day?”
He peered out the window toward his car. “Nope. I’ll go home the same way that I got here.”
“Not if I can help it,” Julie interjected from behind the counter. “We had a meeting last week specifically about you Captain Jer. I’ve been instructed to cut you off if I think that you’re getting too drunk or too rowdy or too free with your sex talk. J Dub told me to take your keys so you can’t drive home. He doesn’t want the liability.”
Jerry retreated to an alcohol-induced pout. “Then I’ll go get another place to play.”
“And if Dr. DV stays here, then who will drive you around?” Julie countered.
Captain Jer looked around the clubhouse. “Well, well, well, can’t we bring a little brevity to the coming golf season?” He was in no mood for the company to rain on his parade and ruin his buzz.
The front door opened and Tuey started to step through the door and into the clubhouse. “Whoa! Whoa, big fella!” Julie shouted. “Where do you think you’re going like that?”
“My’s backhoe’s stucks in da mud agin,” Tuey blurted.
Captain Jer was in rare form and mimicked Tuey. “I’s stays outsides den. She’s in her bitchy mood.” He laughed at himself until his stomach shook.
Tuey stopped in his tracks. He was wearing rubber boots that were covered in sludge. His pants legs were tucked in the boots and were coated with mud up past the knees. His bright, lime-colored skull cap covered his head. “Mista Syms’s is really gonna be pissed now.”
“Don’t you come in here looking like that!” Julie reminded him. “You look like you’ve been sloppin’ a sty full of sows!”
“What’s am I’s gonna do’s now?” Tuey asked. “I’s can’ts work any mo’ today an’ we’s got’s dat meetin’ at da city hall comin’ up.”
“None’s of’s us can’s helps ya,” was the drunken response from across the room, “causes nones of’s us is workin’. Excepts maybe Elia, here.” Captain Jer laughed harder at his imitation of Tuey. “He’s stills workin’. Maybe’s he’ll cuts yo’ hair an’ clean yo black ass up fo’ dat meetin’.”
Elia glared at Captain Jer. Then he broke out in laughter. “If I didn’t know better and Tuey wasn’t a gentleman, then we’d both smack you down to size.” He got up and headed for the door. “Come on Tuey. Let’s go out and give you a haircut.”
“Dat Captain Jer’s gettin’ pretty good wit’ dose imitashuns uh me’s,” Tuey said with a chuckle.
Elia turned sideways and slipped around Tuey as he passed through the door. Over his shoulder he yelled, “The only one that he’s entertaining is himself.” Elia kept walking. “We’ll go and get you cleaned up for your meeting.” He caught himself. “I thought you were banned from the meeting.”
“I’s be kicked out. But I’s go visit wit’ dem befo’ it starts.” Tuey smiled before he backed through the doorway. “Where’s ya’s gonna clean me up?”
“We’ll go out to the cart barn,” Elia said. “I’ve got an extra set of clippers and stuff out there that I keep around for J Dub and Curt.” He headed toward the Butler building. “Follow me.”
Tuey fell in a couple of paces behind Elia as the pair walked across the porch, down a half flight of stairs, and across the parking lot. The sun peeked out from the billowy clouds that dotted the sparkling blue sky. It always seemed as if the air that came into the area from the north was more clean and crisp than the stagnant air associated with summer. Elia entered the barn and reached for a stool that J Dub had sat on many times. “Grab a seat.” He motioned to Tuey as he grabbed an old sheet that had been folded and placed under his box of equipment.
“I’s needs uh change,” Tuey uttered as he removed his skull cap. “Dis here haircut is not needed, but’s it beats da heck outta me messin’ wit’ aw uh dis dere mud.”
“It’s too wet out there to be fooling around with those sewer lines right now,” Elia said. He reached for his clippers and plugged the cord into an outlet. “I had to get you away from Captain Jer. He was getting way too drunk.” Elia rubbed his open hand over Tuey’s head
and asked, “Now how do you want it?”
“I’s tinkin’ dat maybe’s I’s jus’ git it aw shaved off,” Tuey said. “Like aw uh dem dere basketball playas on da television.”
“We can do that,” Elia said as he started the shears and slowly moved them up the back of Tuey’s head.
“Jus’ don’ts ya give me one uh dem dere mohawks,” Tuey said with a laugh. “Dey’s mights works on some uh da guys, buts LeVournique, she’s would have uh fit.”
Elia smiled at the gentleness of the massive man in his chair. “So how’s the job coming along?”
“It’s jus’ one delay afta anudda,” Tuey acknowledged. “An’ dat Mista Syms’s be uh yellin’ at me ta hurries up. An’ dat dere city hall jus’ keeps ons givin’ me’s mo’ tickets.” Tuey’s frustrations spilled out of his mouth. His look saddened. What at once was a golden business opportunity had turned into nothing but heartache and grief. “I’s be at da end uh my’s rope. Duz ya’s eva gits ta da point where’s ya’s jus’ had enough an’ ya’s jus’ wants out?”
“That’s why I came to America, Tuey.” Elia took the clippers across the top of Tuey’s head and let the kinky black hair fall onto the sheet that was covering his friend.
“Ya’s had enough too?” Tuey asked his personal barber for the day.
Elia walked around in front of Tuey, reached toward his face, and raised his chin. Then he admired the evenness of the cut and nodded his head. “No matter how bad you think you have it here, it won’t compare to the things that I saw as a little boy.”
“Likes what?” Tuey asked. “I’s got’s tings pretty bad, ya’s knows.”
“I’ll tell you one thing that will open your eyes,” Elia started. “I grew up in Beirut, right next to Israel in the Middle East. And what I saw told me to get out of there and come to America.”
“Dat’s where ya got’s dat accent,” Tuey said. He reached up and ran his hand over the stubs of hair that were remaining on his head.
Elia smiled. “My accent is not as bad as yours, is it?” He chuckled as he went to the bench and put the clippers back in his case. “The Muslims, they are something else. They hate the Christians, you know.”
“Kinda likes da way dat dem dere peoples down at da city hall hates me,” Tuey declared.
“It doesn’t even compare, Tuey. I once saw a group of Muslims chase down a pregnant woman as she left a Christian church. They caught her and drug her up to the steps of the church and took out a knife and cut open her belly.” Tuey was all ears. “They made a cut in her stomach in the form of a cross . . . like a crucifix, you know?”
Tuey nodded his head. “Jus’ ’cause she wuz uh Christian?”
Elia walked around, stood in front of Tuey, and shook his head up and down. “Then they reached inside her belly and pulled out her unborn child because she was a Christian woman.” Elia reached for his razor and raised it in the air.
Tuey’s eyes lit up like the full moon on a cloudless night. “Ya’s not goin’ ta do dat ta me, is ya?”
Elia realized the fear that the razor has caused his client and lowered the razor. “No, but they placed the unborn child on the ground and stomped in its head.” He paused to reflect on the moment. His eyes glistened with moisture. “Then they left the woman to bleed to death on the steps of the church.”
“Dat’s terrible.” Tuey’s breathing became slow and deliberate and very restricted.
“It’s disgusting. Now those people have it bad over there,” Elia stressed. “No matter how bad you think that you have it I promise you it won’t be as bad as those people over there have it. They are barbaric! We live in a civilized world over here.” He took a leather strap out of his kit and worked the razor back and forth to ensure sharpness. Then he reached into his case, grabbed an aerosol can, and sprayed shaving cream over the top of Tuey’s head.
“Dat’s da same ting dat Nose Twitch wuz sayin’ da udder day,” Tuey said. He reached up and wiped off some lather that was oozing down his forehead.
“Who the heck is Nose Twitch?” Elia wondered.
“She’s one uh my frien’s in dat cave out dere on da course,” Tuey answered.
“We’ve all thought that you were a little crazy with all that stuff,” Elia said. He took the razor over Tuey scalp and removed some of the tiny stubble that was remaining.
“Uh lot uh dem’s in dat cave, dey’s my frien’s.” He stopped and retracted his statement. “At least dey wuz my frien’s.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Elia muttered. He wanted to change the topic from all of the animals that Tuey said he talked to back to his childhood in Lebanon. “And then there were all of these warlords over there that wanted their soldiers to kill Christians,” he continued as he made another swath over Tuey’s head. “So all the soldiers would go out and kill the Christians. Then they would cut off their ears and put them on a string and take them back to their warlord to prove that they did the job.”
Tuey squirmed in his seat as Elia took the razor down the side of his head. “Don’ts ya slip an’ cuts off one uh my’s ears.”
“Don’t you worry. Even if I did you’d still have one left.” He chuckled at the standard line that all of his customers had heard. “But you have to hold still while I finish up.” Elia slowly worked the razor around Tuey’s ear and shaved his scalp so closely that his head felt as smooth as a baby’s bottom. “I tell you all of that stuff because there is a moral to the story.”
“What’s dat?”
“No matter how bad you think you have it over here, it’s not as bad as what those people have to go through in the old country,” Elia said.
“I’s don’ts have it dat bad,” Tuey agreed, “but’s it’s pretty bad wit’ dem peoples down at da city hall . . . an’ now dat Mista Syms.”
Elia finished the razor cut on Tuey’s skull. “Now you hold still.” He went out the door to the side of the barn, turned on the water, and re-entered with the hose spewing water out of the nozzle. “Bend over so that I can clean you off.”
Tuey got off of the stool walked toward Elia and bent over at the waist. Elia hosed off his head. “Ooooooo, weeeeeeeee! Dat wata’s cold!”
“That’s okay. You’ll make it. If you were in my chair at the shop I’d treat you with a little more tender loving care,” Elia said with a smile. “Hop back up on the stool. I’m not done with you yet.”
As Elia went outside to shut off the water, Tuey rubbed his hand over the top of his head. It glowed in the light like a shine on a pair of patent leather shoes. “Ya’s did uh good job uh washin’ aw uh dem li’l curly hairs away.”
Elia smiled as he re-entered the barn. Then he continued back to his supply kit. He reached for some petroleum jelly, applied a generous amount to his hands, and approached Tuey. “This will open your pores and keep your skin smooth.” He applied the slippery goo to Tuey’s head and face.
“Oooooo, weeeeeeeeee. You be givin’ me da king’s treatment.”
“Sit still. I’ll be right back.”
“Where’s duz ya tink I’s be goin’ lookin’ likes dis?”
Elia slipped out of the cart barn and hurried into the clubhouse. He went behind the counter, grabbed a couple of bar towels, and soaked them in water. After wringing them out Elia placed the towels in the microwave and heated them.
“Did you cut him to pieces or something?” Captain Jer chimed from the back booth as he saw Elia wet the towels.
“Nah, I’m giving him a facial.”
“Don’t let my wife hear that!” Captain Jer yelled back. He glanced over to Alpha Bear’s companion. “Or Scottie P.”
“Jer, that’s enough!” Julie hollered. “You’re cut off for the rest of the day!”
“Get your mind out of the gutter girl. My wife is a woman. She likes to be pampered.”
Elia reached into the microwave after the buzzer went off. He balanced the steaming hot towels on a Styrofoam plate and hurried back to the cart barn. Tuey heard him enter but had his eyes closed. “Wh
at’s kind uh surprise duz ya have fo’ me now?”
“Throw your head back a little. You’ll like this,” Elia said as he placed one hot towel on Tuey’s face, carefully allowing room for his nose. The other towel went atop his bald head.
“Oooooo, weeeeeeeeeee!” Tuey exclaimed. “I’s don’ts tink dat I’s eva had dat’s befo’.” He savored the feeling of the steaming hot towels. “Dat sho’ burn outs aw uh dose evil tings.”
“Yeah,” Elia agreed, “that steam will open those pores and cleanse your face and head, Tuey.” Elia walked around and stood behind his client. He reached out and massaged the man’s massive shoulders. “Now this is what I do to my customers in the shop. You’re getting the full treatment today.”
“Have mercy on me!” Tuey cried out. “Laaaaaaawwwwwwd duz dat feels good!” He relaxed his shoulders to receive the full benefit of the rubdown. “Where dis shop uh yours be?”
“Downtown Clayton.”
“Dat’s da best dat’s da money can buy. I’s bets ya has aw sort uh bizness.”
Elia forced a grin at the situation. He was used to giving the best treatment to people with tons of money. Giving Tuey the whole enchilada was heartwarming. He grabbed both of the towels and wiped down the face and head of his friend. “Ooooooo, weeeeeeeeeee, duz dat feels goooooood!” The hot and cold treatment caused his breathing to become more labored. “Why’s did ya do aw uh dat fo’ uh po’ boy likes me?”
“Because you’re helping out a good friend of mine,” Elia explained. “J Dub really appreciates all the hard work that you’re doing for him.” Tuey sat erect on the stool and let Elia’s comments soak in.
“Dat J Dub’s bin really good ta me’s, ya know.”
Elia shook his head up and down. “They don’t come any better than J Dub.” Then he returned to the topic at hand. “Just remember that no matter how bad it gets for you, there are other people around the world who have it a lot harder.”
“We’s gonna see ’bout dat. Dose peoples down at da city hall an’ dat Mr. Syms’s don’ts know whens ta let up.” He took a deep breath and savored the cool air hitting his head. “Dem peoples down dere at dat city hall needs ta git off uh my bumpa.”