A Fine Kettle of Fish

by Lou Bradshaw

  When I convinced her that it was no joke and that I would soon be a landowner she was as excited as I was. So, we cooled off when I threw her in and went in after her.

  * * *

  Later, when we were eating the food my mother had left for us, she asked. “Lee, why do your folks call you Lee Roy with the accent on Roy?”

  “Because that’s my name – 2 words Lee and Roy. It’s not Leroy or LeeRoy. First name Lee and middle name Roy. I was named after 2 great Americans.”

  “Who?”

  “Robert E. Lee and Roy Rogers.” She nearly choked.

  “I don’t believe that.” she said. “Maybe Robert E. Lee, but Roy Rogers, come on Brickey you can do better than that.”

  “Okay, you ask my Mom the next time you see her, she wouldn’t lie to you until she gets to know you better.

  “Will I see her again?”

  “That’s up to you.” I answered.

  “Okay, I’ll ask her.” She said without a bit of hesitation, which made me feel pretty good. “What about Nan’s name? Was she named after a great American too?”

  “Sure was. She was named after Little Nancy from the funny papers. You know – Nancy and Sluggo.”

  She gave me one of those looks that meant that maybe I had taken it just a little too far, and said, “Are you making that up?”

  “Dingeon Dungeon.” I said, raising 2 fingers in mock salute.

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, there was this little kid I used to play with, and he couldn’t say honest Injun. It always came out Dingeon Dungeon, and I guess it just stuck. Anyway, that’s how a Brickey mind works. Kinda scary, ain’t it?”

  All she did was look at me in exaggerated doubt, and said, “Sure is.”

  * * *

  I made sure that she left while there was still plenty of light, because these roads out here had plenty of wiggles to them. But, I made a date for the next day to attend the Doubling Labor Day parade and picnic. I picked her up at 11 o’clock on the dot, not a minute before and not a minute after. Actually, I parked for a half an hour at a gas station three blocks away until it was time. I was trying to impress her with my punctuality. It worked; she was impressed or seemed to be.

  I met her folks, and they seemed nice enough. Her dad gave me a thorough going over; I thought I was under a microscope. He was on the stuffy side, but okay. Her mom was a mom… like mine warm and friendly.

  The house was in the east central part of town. It was a 2-story frame with a wide front porch. It was a lot like ours, but maybe a little newer. Her mom reminded her that tomorrow was a workday, which was her way of saying don’t be late without saying it. That sent a little shot of apprehension through me. Oh, I had everything ready, fees paid, books bought, parking permit, class schedule, and all the rest of it. The problem was that I hadn’t any idea what it was going to be like. Here I was committing myself to the next 4 years as an indentured servant to Brick. I just might hate college or be a complete failure at it. I think that was when it finally started to hit home.

  * * *

  The parade was a blast in a small town way. We got a good spot on the curb on Front Street across from the train station. There were high school bands, drum and bugle corps, and Shriner’s clowns on little motorcycles. There were floats pulled by tractors and by horses. Oh, there were horses of every shape, size, color and breed. There were dancers and prancers – there were trotters and walkers – there must have been over a hundred all together.

  Oh yes, the parade also had a fantastic array of banners and placards, almost all of which came from Brickey’s Sign Shop. It was a good feeling to see your work on display, and being admired by others. Again, Peggy was impressed. She said that she had never really looked at a sign for more than the message on it. She’d been critical of poor ones, but just accepted good ones as a matter of routine. And that she couldn’t do that after today.

  She told me that the same thing had happened when she took a field trip to a newspaper. She had no idea what was involved with putting out a daily newspaper. I told her that that was the whole idea behind newspapers and signs; it’s not about the sign or the paper, it’s the message that’s important. I surprised myself by saying that because until then I hadn’t given it much thought. I think that was the moment in time that I became a better sign man.

  When the parade had passed by, we went to the car, and I drove to the station and sign shop to show her around. I walked her through the shop and gave her the cook’s tour of what it takes to do a sign or banner. I had to admit that I was getting better and faster. There was a real difference in the work being done now and the work of just 3 months before. A lot of work still had to be done in the areas of shortcuts and technique, but I was learning, and I had 4 years.

  We left the car at the shop, strange that I was thinking of it as the shop instead of the station, and walked the 4 blocks to the park. They had a Ferris wheel, a Tilt-a-Whirl, a Merry-Go-Round, and the usual complement of midway games. We threw baseballs at cement bottles, popped balloons with darts, and pitched plastic rings over soda bottles. We were rewarded for our skills with cheap trinkets that seemed to mean the world to Peggy.

  I was busy all afternoon introducing Peggy to people. Mack, she knew, but didn’t know Legs VIII or whatever the current number was. As a matter of fact, I didn’t either. Liz was there and after the introduction, she gave me a discrete wink and a thumbs up. Peggy wanted to know if Mickey took himself seriously. “Fraid so.” I told her.

  “That’s too bad.” she said. “He’s got a lot going for himself if he would just shut up and quit trying to make everyone think he’s something they know he’s not.”

  “Very astute observation.” I replied. Of course Mack and I figured that out in kindergarten.

  We ran into Nan and Bruce, but before I could open my mouth to say anything both Nan and Peggy paralyzed me with Death Ray stares. I was going to have to keep those two apart. I treated the 4 of us to ice cream, and old Bruce thought I was really something.

  Mom and Brick were there, and true to her word Peggy asked Mom who I was named for. “Robert E. Lee and Roy Rogers.” She said shaking her head in a hopeless gesture as she rolled her eyes toward the heavens. Brick just smiled and nodded his agreement.

  “And what about Nan?” She asked. “Was she named for a comic strip?”

  Mom laughed and looked my way before saying, “Heavens no, she was named for a dear friend of mine when I was a little girl. Frank (Brick) named this one, and I named the other two.”

  I told Mom not to let Nan know because I had been telling her that she was named after Little Nancy for so long that I really thought she was. I even had her convinced that she would someday marry a guy named Sluggo. That got me a laugh from Brick and a slap on the back, but a scolding from Mom and Peggy. I was going to have to keep those girls apart as well – so it appeared.

  * * *

  There are many things that, a person takes for granted throughout the course of a lifetime like newspapers and signs. We sometimes accept the fact that others are doing things the things that they are expected to be doing – such as carnies. I had no idea how many hundreds of carnival workers I had seen in my 18 years. They were generally a rough scruffy bunch that seldom mixed with the local crowd, and when they did it was usually meant liquor trouble or woman trouble.

  For whatever reason, this time I started seeing them, and what I saw was what I had expected to see – a rough, scruffy even dirty bunch of men and a few women. What I hadn’t expected to see was a few Negroes and Mexicans mixed in with the others. I guess they had always been there, but I’d never looked before. Since my sunrise services on the bluff, it seemed that I noticed or looked at things differently – I saw them.

  I found myself looking at their faces, their hair, their clothes, their coloring, in fact, I actually looked at them. I saw that the Mexicans were darker than most Anglos, with straight black hair, very sparse facial hair, black eyes, and broad faces. I wanted to ske
tch them. The Negroes on the other hand had fuzzy hair like short black sheep’s wool. Their coloring, for the few that were there, ran from coffee with a little cream to black coffee. The faces were shaped differently, but they all had brown eyes and heavy thick lips. There were only 4 Negroes at first then I saw another coming from a trailer and going behind another; then he was gone. I didn’t need to study his face – I knew the look of Luther Bates.

  To say that I was unnerved would have been like saying a V8 Chevy could out run a Renault Dolphine – I was shook. I just stood and watched where he had been, trying to get control of my thoughts and my wits. Peggy tugged at my sleeve and brought me back to her world, “Lee, are you okay? You looked lost; is anything wrong?”

  “I’m sorry.” I said, “I thought I saw someone I used to know. I was just trying to remember who he was and where he was from.” It was the best that I could come up with on the spur of the moment.

  Nan, Bruce, and Liz had just walked up in time to see me get lost in thought, and little sister unknowingly saved me when she said, “Don’t buy it Peggy, he’s a dreamer. He goes off like that some times, and we have to pour cold water in his ear to get him back. Seriously, sometimes he gets lost inside his head, but he’s usually harmless.”

  Liz piped in with, “A dreamer, yes, but also a schemer. So watch your jewelry and anything else of value. He’s always cooking something up.” Everyone had a good laugh at my expense, but I didn’t care. I had an excuse for my oddness – I was covered.

  * * *

  It was about 8 o’clock that evening when I got her home. I parked and walked her up to the front door, the sun was just starting to set and the shadows were long. I wasn’t expecting much more than a good night peck since there was still plenty of daylight going on around us.

  “Peggy,” I said in my most serious tone, “I had a terrific day, and I don’t know where we’re going, but I want to take the ride. It’s just that until I get my feet on the ground with school and my other commitments I won’t know how much time I’ll have to devote to a romance or even a friendship. And a friendship is the last thing I want – I’ve already got friends.”

  “Look, Brickey, I’m working 40 hours a week and carrying 9 hours, so I’m not expecting to be able to see much of you either. If you want to call, do it on Tuesdays or Thursdays, and maybe we can spend a little weekend time together. If we have anything going it’ll hold up, if not we’ll find that out soon enough.”

  Then she laid one of those – I don’t give a damn what the neighbors think – goodnight specials on me that nearly made me pass out. It reminded me of one of those old time comedians who said, “Always leave them hungry for more.” I was starving!

  On leaving, I headed for that same gas station that I’d spent time at this morning, but I didn’t go for gas, in fact I already had a really full tank. As I came out of the men’s room, I noticed a car had pulled up next to mine on the lot; I didn’t give it much thought at the time. When I got closer, I noticed that there was someone in the drivers seat; I figured he was waiting for someone to come out of the restroom. I was right; he was waiting for me to come out. When he saw me draw nearer, Luther opened the door and got out.

  Chapter 29

  “Hey there, Lee.” he said with a smile.

  “Why, Luther!” What the hell are you doing here? Man, I haven’t seen you in a couple of months.” I was talking and thinking at the same time, trying to anticipate what he was planning. “Let’s see… yeah it was just about the time your friend Malcolm was killed. Hey, I was awful sorry, but I didn’t know who to send a card to or anything.”

  “Fogit it, I hardly knew him. Thas what I wanna talk to you about. You pulled dat car in, did ya?” I nodded and said I had, and he went on. “Well, dat boy was carryin’, somethin’ worth a lot of money, and some people want it back. You got any ideas about dat?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I figured something like that when that jerk Lloyd Dickey started snoopin’ around. I’ll tell you just like I told him, if there was anything worth anything in that wreck then the sheriff’s boys got it. I checked the trunk and there wasn’t anything there besides some clothes and a spare tire. Now, it sat on the lot overnight, so who knows who was in it. Course, most folks won’t mess around in a killer wreck like that.” If I’d said that I didn’t snoop a little he’d have suspected I was lying.

  He asked who Lloyd Dickey was, and I explained. He thought for a few minutes, and then said, “You’re a smart boy, Lee. I think you’re smart enough to know how important this is. If these people don’t get they stuff back, then they gonna come lookin’ for it, and they ain’t nice people – no sa – not nice.”

  He gave me a scrap of paper with a phone number in Kansas City, and told me if I happened to find that stuff to call that number and ask for him. He said that he wouldn’t be there, but they’d get a message to him and someone would be in touch with me. I told him that it all sounded rather like cloak and dagger stuff, but he didn’t seem to know what that meant. As he started the car he rolled down the window and said, “You call that number, cause they ain’t nice, boy.” Then he drove off into the dusk.

  I went back inside and called Agent Fletcher since it was a local call from where I was. He wasn’t there, which wasn’t a great surprise, but I left a message to call me at the shop after 5 the next day.

  * * *

  School started Tuesday morning at 8 o’clock, and despite the orientation tour a few weeks before, I was soon lost but found again and late for a history class. Like I’d said before, I didn’t know what to expect at school, so I just went there with an open mind. It was like another world completely. For one thing there were a lot of buildings, not just one; that fact alone took some getting used to. The biggest thing I had to get used to was the casual attitude of the teachers or professors toward attendance and homework. It was kind of like – Here it is, kid. Take it if you want it, but I’m not going to make you learn it.

  I picked up on that right away. They didn’t seem to care if I made it or not, so I figured I’d have to do it myself. I think they were separating the chaff from the wheat – I had it in my mind to be wheat. I went to the Student Union during an hour’s wait between classes. The place was jammed with people, mostly young, but some older and everything in between. I’d never thought of older people going to school, but there they were, and they seemed to be the most sincere about it.

  I spotted a few people I knew and wondered if they would use the Union for what it was intended, a place to get a snack, kill a little time, or an occasional social hour. Or would they fall into the lounge lizard routine? I saw several card games going and a chess match in progress. Those were activities that you didn’t spend just a few minutes at, and then walk away and go to the library. That place was a trap; I’d have to watch out and avoid it all I could – I had a lot at stake.

  * * *

  Fletcher called me at exactly 5 p.m., and I told him about seeing Luther at the picnic and later at the gas station. He told me not to worry about anything and keep on playing dumb. He also said that there would be some increased activity on their part, and that, at least on a limited basis, and they would have people watching out for me, especially at or around school. I felt better – but not great.

  It was after 7 o’clock when Junior Bradley came in for gas. He came on back to the shop. Then he read me the riot act for not calling him as soon as I got back to town, or at least call the dispatcher to get a message to him. ”Lee, we can’t cover you if you don’t stay in touch with us. You’ve got to help us here.”

  I told him that I didn’t want to bother him or his family on a holiday. He told me that that was part of his job, and if they could have picked up Luther last night chances were good that I would have been out of it – finished. Well hell!

  * * *

  The first few weeks were quite an adjustment from high school. For one thing, we were no longer hotshot seniors – we were at the bottom of the food chain. Mack was ha
ving adjustment problems far different from mine. He was having neck trouble caused by trying to turn his head around 360 degrees to watch the women. I caught him talking to a young lady one day, and absent-mindedly scratching his crotch. That’s just fine when you’re with a bunch of guys, but the gals don’t seem to understand that sort of thing. This one seemed to be in a hurry to be somewhere else. I had to explain it to him – boy was he embarrassed. He wanted to go and apologize, but I stopped him from making a complete fool of himself.

  Unfortunately, Mickey found life in the Union more to his liking than life in the library or one of the many other places a person can go to study. When I gave him a little constructive criticism his reaction was, “They don’t care, man. As long as you can score on the final exams, you’re in. Just show up to some of the classes and turn in some of the stuff, and it’s a breeze.” In other words, we could count on looking for another driver for our car pool next semester. I’ve got to give him credit though, he was having a lot more fun than I was.

  * * *

  All through this little yarn, I’ve taken every opportunity to beat up on Mickey. I’ve made him sound like a fool, a blowhard, a buffoon, and an insufferable bragger. It was all well deserved. I guess everyone knows a Mickey, or someone something like a Mickey. Having just said that makes me wonder if there really is a something like a Mickey?

  It’s not that Mickey was a stupid person or a bad person, but he was a Murphy’s Law person. If something could get screwed up, he would make damned sure it got really screwed up, screwed down, and screwed sideways. Let me take this opportunity to give you an in-depth look at a few Mickey episodes, or Mickisodes

  * * *

  We had very few rules in our little car pool. One being no seconds, and since none of us had more than one car that rule didn’t mean much. Another rule was that you don’t break down or run out of gas too often. Our most important rule was that when a driver got so stupid as to endanger the others or mess with their comfort, then the others had the right and the obligation to kill the driver and/or commandeer the car.