by JR Thompson
“Wait a minute!” Tamara said, with her eyes growing wide. “Are you saying Billy’s going to be staying with me? I thought he was going to return to your place for a while?”
The truth be known — Mr. Bones would have loved that. But he couldn’t. Not after what happened the first time. It would only be setting the kid up for failure. “That wouldn’t work,” Mr. Bones told her. “Billy has already seen that he could play that to his advantage. We have to do things differently now.”
Tamara shook her head. “I know what you’re saying, Mr. Bones. You’re afraid I’ll interfere again.”
“Tamara, I’m not going to make any bones about this. Over the years, I’ve engaged in many battles with families of struggling teenagers. I will do my best to help you and your son. At the same time, when one firecracker blows up in my face, I’m not going to set another one on my kitchen table. Does that make sense?”
Tamara snickered. “I get you, Mr. Bones. But I’m not going to sneak and take Billy back to the house again. If he’s staying with you, he’s staying with you. It’s that cut and dry.”
“Not this time, Tamara. He has already gone from your house to mine and then returned to your house again. Passing him back and forth isn’t going to teach him a thing. He needs to stay in one place and follow the rules that are set for him.”
Tamara didn’t seem too sure. “And what if this doesn’t work?”
“We’ll give it six weeks. If his behavior doesn’t improve, we’ll try a different approach.”
“Okay, so he stays with me; when he misbehaves, you help me decide on age-appropriate discipline. Is that all?”
Mr. Bones smirked, “That’s only the beginning of the plan. The other part may sound slightly dirty, and it will undoubtedly make your son hostile — toward both of us when he finds out we’re in it together. But once he cools down, I believe it will teach him a lesson he will never forget. Here’s the plan…”
15
It was 6:00 am on Saturday morning when Mr. Bones lightly tapped on the door to the Andrews’ place, hoping Tamara was going to stick to their plan. Within seconds, she quietly opened the door, “Come on in,” she whispered. “He’s not going to be very happy about this.”
“I don’t expect him to be,” Mr. Bones replied. “He’s going to get what’s coming to him.”
“That he is,” Tamara snickered. “Here’s the agreement you wanted me to sign.”
“Awesome,” Mr. Bones said, looking it over. “You won’t regret this. Where’s his room? I’ll give him a surprise wake-up call.”
Tamara smirked, “Better you than me. Down the hall, second door on the right.”
Philip was slightly nervous about waking the teen up so early, especially when Billy had no idea he was coming over. Swallowing his fear, he tried the knob — it was unlocked.
Inside, he found Billy laying on his side, loudly chewing the air. Must be eating some wind-pudding, Philip told himself. Tip-toeing next to the bed, the probation officer put his hands just above Billy’s head and clapped them five times.
Billy jumped, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!... What are you doing here, Mr. Bones? The sun ain’t even up yet!”
“Time to rise and shine,” Mr. Bones said.
“What?... It’s Saturday, man!” Billy tugged the blankets over his head. “I ain’t getting up. Not ‘til at least noon.”
Mr. Bones jerked the covers off of him, “Wrong! You’re getting an early start today.”
Billy partially opened his eyes, “What’s this all about, Mr. B.?”
Mr. Bones grabbed the teen’s arm and pulled him into a seated position, “Get up and get dressed. We’ll talk about it in the living room.”
“Momma know you’re here?”
Mr. Bones laughed. He understood Billy’s hesitance. He couldn’t even imagine how he would have felt if the roles had been reversed. “She does. She’ll be waiting in the living room as well… By the way, bring your Bible with you when you come out.”
“This is crazy,” Billy complained. “Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll be out.”
“Three minutes,” Mr. Bones said.
“Three minutes ‘til what?”
“Til I come back in here and drag you down that hall. Don’t go back to sleep. I’m going out to talk with your mom.”
Mr. Bones looked at his watch for effect before exiting the room.
Tamara was taking a seat in the living room when Mr. Bones came in. “Just finished whipping up some buttermilk pancakes and boiled eggs,” she said.
“Wonderful. That’ll help. Don’t forget… no matter how good he does, we cannot compliment him under any circumstances.”
“I know. I’ve been practicing in front of my mirror. I’m ready.”
In just under three minutes, Billy joined them in the living room. “Do I smell breakfast already?”
“You do,” Tamara said.
“Why we be in the living room then? Ain’t the food gonna get cold?”
“Well,” Mr. Bones said. “You were supposed to preach a sermon for me Wednesday evening. Remember?”
“Yeah. But I wasn’t at your crib. I was here with my momma.”
“That you were. But you were given a consequence, and you’re expected to accept it.”
“What?”
“Did you study for the sermon?”
“A little… but I didn’t think I’d have to do it.”
“Well, you do,” Tamara interjected.
“And if I don’t?”
“You won’t eat,” she snapped.
“Momma, you ain’t gonna just throw that food away!”
“No, Billy, I won’t. Your probation officer and I will eat until we’re full and you can have what’s left — after you’ve preached your sermon. Doesn’t matter to me if it’s in the next little bit or if you wait until after lunch or dinner. But you get it done within the next forty-five minutes, and we’ll warm that breakfast back up for you. Any later than that, and you’ll eat it cold.”
“Momma! This ain’t like you. Has Mr. B. brainwashed you or something?”
“It’s the way things are going to be, Billy. If you’ve got a sermon ready, it’s time to preach it.”
“In front of both of you?”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Bones interjected.
“Alright. Fine. I got this. Ya’ll gonna follow along in your Bibles?”
“We sure are,” Tamara said. “Make us proud, son.”
The probation officer gave her a dirty look. She had better not compliment or encourage him. If she didn’t stick to their plan, it would ruin everything!
“Okay, good then,” Billy said, flipping his Bible open. “I want us to have a look at Hebrews chapter thirteen, verse seventeen.”
Mr. Bones and Tamara opened their Bibles while Billy waited patiently. When he saw they were there, he said, “The Good Book say to ‘Obey them that have the rule over you, and submit yourselves: for they watch for your souls, as they that must give account, that they may do it with joy, and not with grief: for that is unprofitable for you.’ Now, peoples, I want you to understand what this verse be sayin’. We got to be obeyin’ those higher powers. You know what I’m sayin’? I mean… can I get a witness?”
Mr. Bones and Tamara looked at each other; neither gave Billy the “amen” he was expecting.
Looking confused, Billy continued, “When a man gets a job, for example, his boss tells him what hours to work. If that man submits to them that have the rule over him, he’ll work when he’s supposed to. Won’t be leavin’ early. Won’t be skipping out. Won’t be worryin’ ‘bout no other matters. Certainly won’t be lyin’ or being dishonest about it. He gonna submit to that boss. Ain’t that right, Mr. Bones?”
Mr. Bones reluctantly nodded, seeing exactly how Billy planned on preaching his sermon.
“I’ll tell ya what else it means!...” Billy preached for fourteen minutes, stomping all over both his probation officer’s and his mother’s shoes, pointing out ea
ch and every weakness he felt either one of them had.
At the end, he asked, “How was that?”
“I’ve heard better,” Mr. Bones replied. “Sounded like you were preaching from the flesh. You didn’t read the scriptures to obtain any kind of understanding at all. You used them maliciously; that’s not the way the Bible’s intended to be used.”
“Whatever, man! That’s how you preached! I don’t wanna hear that… What’d you think, Momma?”
“I thought…,” she hesitated for a moment and looked at Mr. Bones. “I thought you did…” she paused again.
“What’d you think, Momma?”
Mr. Bones glared at her, hoping to remind her of their negativity pact.
“I thought you did a good job reading, but that’s the best I can say about it, Billy. My grandma took me to her church one time when they had a youth-led service. They had a third-grade little boy in there who volunteered to preach. Now, let me tell you something — that little man could preach.”
“And you’re saying I couldn’t?”
“Not like that little guy.”
“You sayin’ a third-grader could out-preach me?”
Tamara laughed. “Honey, you should have heard the people in that church testifying afterward. Their testimonies were more powerful than your sermon. How much time do you spend studying for that thing? Two minutes? You gotta put your all into things, Billy. You can’t take the easy way out.”
Billy’s lip jutted out as he hung his head and started for his room.
“Where are you going, boy?” Mr. Bones asked.
“Where’s it look like?”
“It looks like you’re going back to bed. Ain’t happening, son.”
Billy turned around. “I done told you, Mr. Bones. I ain’t your son. But why can’t I go to bed? I done did what you told me to.”
“Now it’s time for breakfast.”
“Ain’t hungry.”
Mr. Bones stood, “I didn’t ask if you were hungry. Your mother got up early and made this breakfast for you. Now, you’re going to eat it. Let’s head to the kitchen.”
Billy stared at him for a moment without speaking.
Tamara snapped her fingers, “You heard the man. Scoot those feet into that kitchen!”
With a constipated expression on his face, Billy complied. He ate his breakfast in silence as Mr. Bones and Tamara talked and laughed as if they had been life-long friends.
As soon as they finished eating, Tamara instructed Billy to load the dishwasher.
“I ain’t ‘bout to do no such thing. That’s women’s work.”
“Billy,” Mr. Bones said sternly.
“What is this? You two teamin’ up against me?”
“Load the dishwasher, Billy,” Mr. Bones ordered. “And for backtalking, once you get it loaded, I want you to sweep and mop the floor.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Do you want to clean the restroom next?”
Billy put on his pouty face, “I’ll clean the kitchen… Just stay outta my way!”
Mr. Bones and Tamara sat at the table and continued to enjoy their conversation while watching the frustrated teen complete his chores.
“May I please go back to bed now?” he asked upon finishing.
“No way,” Mr. Bones told him. “We have work to do.”
“What you talkin’ about? I just worked myself near to death while the two of you’s been sitting over there chillin’.”
Tamara spoke up, “Mr. Bones and I have come to an agreement, Billy.”
“I ain’t movin’ back into that man’s house.”
“You will do whatever you’re told to do,” she barked.
“Ah, come on, Momma! I ain’t like that man. I ain’t like his rules. Ain’t like his personality. Ain’t like his house. Don’t make me go there. Please, Momma!”
Tamara smiled, “Stop being rude, Billy… For now, your living arrangements will stay the same. But that can change at any time. If your probation officer and I feel it’s in your best interests for you to live elsewhere, you will have no say so in the matter.”
“But Momma—”
“But Momma nothing,” Tamara snapped. “It’s high time you be learnin’ the value of hard work.”
“I know how to work!”
“Maybe so,” Mr. Bones interjected, “but you see nothing wrong with taking money and items other people have worked for.”
Billy crossed his arms, “And?”
“We believe you won’t be so quick to steal from others once you learn how difficult a day’s work can be.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that… Good night, ya’ll.”
“Wrong again, bud,” Mr. Bones said. “You and I are heading out for a job.”
“I ain’t do no more work unless I gettin’ paid for it.”
Mr. Bones knew that was coming. Billy was falling right into the plan without even knowing it. “Oh, you’ll be earning money alright,” he said.
“How much?”
“Fifty bucks.”
Billy smiled. “Now that’s what I be talkin’ ‘bout. What we be waitin’ around here for?”
Mr. Bones appreciated the boy’s enthusiasm, but he didn’t want him to get too excited. “We’re going to go in just a minute but first let me explain how this is going to work. For the next six Saturdays, I’m going to swing by here and pick you up at 6:00 am. I’ll be taking you out to complete various work assignments. They will all be paid tasks. But—”
“I know what that word ‘but’ means, Mr. Bones. What’s the catch?”
“You won’t get the money until the end of the six weeks. I’m going to hold onto it until you’ve completed every task you’ve been assigned.”
“What?... Why?... It’s my money!”
“When you get a job, you don’t get paid as soon as the day’s over. Usually, a guy has to work five days a week for two weeks in a row before he gets his first check. That’s ten days, Billy. I’m trying to teach you how the real world operates. You will work six entire days before you see the money. Got me?”
“I don’t like it, but I’m guessing I ain’t got a choice in the matter.”
“And that would be an accurate assessment,” Mr. Bones replied.
Billy dropped the attitude. “What kind of work we gonna be doing?”
“First of all, you’re going to be doing the work; I’m supervising. The jobs will be different every week. No matter what kind of work people do, it takes a lot out of them, and I want you to learn that first hand. When people earn their money, they expect to keep what they earn.”
“Okay… so what are we doing today?”
“Get in the car, and you’ll find out.”
“Why can’t you just tell me?”
Tamara jumped into the conversation, “Did you not hear your probation officer? Enough with that lip, Billy! Get in the car, and I’ll see you later!”
16
That house was so full of poop that Billy thought he was going to lose his pancakes.
“So, what? Am I supposed to gather eggs or somethin’?”
Mr. Bones chuckled. “Do you really think that would be worth fifty dollars? Nice try, bud.”
Billy shook his head, “I ain’t picking up no bird manure. I hope that ain’t what you be thinkin’.”
Mr. Bones nodded, “Cleaning up the chicken houses are going to be the first part of your assignment.”
As far as Billy was concerned, his probation officer had lost his mind. He hadn’t played with animal feces since his tenth birthday, and he had no intentions of doing it at fourteen. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Did you say houses as in more than one?”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Bones said confidently. “Millie has six of them.”
“Ah, man. Tell me they ain’t all as big as this one.”
Mr. Bones laughed. “They’re all different sizes, man. But I believe this is the smallest one.”
“No way! Huh-uh! I ain’t doing this, Mr. B. I ain’t no ch
icken farmer!”
Chuckling, his probation officer said, “Oh, you’re going to do it. It won’t kill you. Here, let me show you how.” Picking up the hoe, he began scraping dried manure off of the floor. “See, nothing to it. Once you get it loose, take the shovel and toss it in the wheelbarrow.”
The man described poop-handling as if it was a normal, everyday activity. What could possibly be gross about picking up some nasty critter’s waste products? Billy had never even changed a wet baby diaper, let alone picked up poop that couldn’t even be wrapped in anything. Shaking his head, Billy whined, “Mr. B., please don’t make me do this.”
“Stop with the Mr. B.”
“Fine, Mr. Bones. Please. I’ll do anything else. This ain’t me.” Billy didn’t know why he even tried. His probation officer wasn’t going to give him an inch. But there was always that shimmer of hope.
“It’s okay,” Mr. Bones replied. “You’re going to do this work to the best of your ability. I’ll be hanging out outside. Let me know if you encounter any—”
Billy jumped back at the sight of a plump, brown hen strutting up the ramp and coming through a small door opposite where they were standing. “Ah, huh-uh! Nah, man! I ain’t doin’ nothin’ while that disgusting thing’s in here!” Billy backed himself further into a corner. “Seriously? That stupid thing just squeezed out a wet, juicy dump! Looks like she’s got diarrhea! Man, do I seriously gotta clean that up?”
Mr. Bones laughed as he walked over and scooped up the friendly chicken, “This little lady won’t hurt you. Here, pet her.”
“Pet her? I ain’t ‘bout to pet no chicken — especially not one that just came in here and deliberately made my job harder!”
“Pet her, Billy... I’m not asking you.”
“Why?”
“It’s the only way to get used to this place... As a matter of fact, hold out your hands. You’re going to hold her.”
Billy was ready to die. He couldn’t believe his probation officer was taking things to such drastic extremes. Still, he held the chicken for a minute before putting her down and insisting he was ready to get the job done and over with.