“Saw what?”
“A space ship, a big mother.”
“Really?” John said, inching forward.
“Yeah, that golf course guy and I were sitting having a couple of beers while the house was being built. It was dusk, just a little light left on the horizon, and I looked up and something huge was moving across the sky, right up there, going that way.” He pointed left to right. “Not a sound from it. No defined edges either. It just blotted the stars out as it moved over us. Both of us were pilots at one time or the other and trusted our eyes. We judged it to be half a mile wide, right up there about fifteen to twenty-thousand feet up.
“Anyway,” Jed went on, “we both confirmed what we were watching and called for Martha and Danielle. She happened to be here at the time. Danielle’s fingernail polish was still wet, so we got no response. When we went in to tell them what they had missed. They dismissed us, claiming we had drunk too much beer. Can you imagine? Something like that is not as important as makeup.”
“People tend to have their priorities,” said John.
“What do you think is our biggest problem?” he asked.
“The Walnuts?”
“No, Christ, we’re too far gone to worry about. I mean all of us, this screwed up world.”
“Same as everywhere, I guess, uncertainty about the future.”
“Same as where you live?”
“Roughly the same. We “have” managed to streamline our mad dash for the future, so we are not as dangerous to ourselves as we used to be.”
“We certainly are,” admitted Jed.
“Yes, the time before meaningful or constructive rules.”
“I think we have too many.”
“Rules are made to be followed, not bent or disregarded altogether,” said John.
“A la Walnut?”
“Precisely.”
*
Martha and Heather came into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Grandpa,” Heather said and gave him a hug.
“John and I have been talking,” he said, “and we’ve come to the conclusion that not only aren’t there enough rules around here, but everybody just ignores the ones we have. That is going to change. From now on—”
“Oh, shut up!” snarled Martha. “The last thing I need to hear first thing in the morning is your crap!”
Jed looked at John and laughed. “I guess we’re not ready yet.”
*
“Hey!” Danielle yelled from the back hall. “An old beat-up van just pulled up, and the circus is getting out.”
“My guys are here,” Jed said. “Come on, John, I’ll show you how a ranch is run properly.”
“Then you’d better take him someplace else,” Martha yelled at Jed’s back.
“You’ve got to see this,” Danielle said, coming into the family room. “I can’t believe those guys Dad hired to build the porch. They look like MLC Inc.”
“MLC?” asked Martha.
“Yeah, Moe, Larry, and Curly, The Three Stooges. You guys have got to come and see this.”
“Only your father would consider hiring idiots just to save a buck,” Martha told Danielle, walking down the hall to see the spectacle in the parking area. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, I don’t believe this.”
“I heard that!” Jed shouted, walking up to the backdoor. “Those are professionals. You should have more respect for people that earn a living.”
“Professionals?” Danielle said, giggling as she looked out the window with her mother. “I was just out there. A crazy, excited Turk, a Mexican that looks like Momar Kadafi, and an old man with a walker. You call that a construction company? How much beer did you promise them?”
“Beer?” shouted Martha. “Jed, you don’t give them any beer until they’re done, you hear me?”
“They are experienced craftsmen,” Jed said defensively.
Danielle laughed. “Dad, Krypton Construction?”
“What is wrong with that? It’s a good name.”
“That’s probably where the home office is,” said Martha.
“Dad, it looks like they used a crayon,” Danielle said, pointing to the van.
“Grandpa, the Kadafi look-alike is straightening old rusty nails,” Heather said, pointing to where Krypton Construction was setting up.
“They’re economizing.”
“Yeah, because you’re not paying them anything in the first place,” said Martha.
“This is a very expensive operation to run, John,” Jed explained, trying to build some outside support. “My family can’t appreciate the—”
“Being cheap is no excuse for this!” Martha shouted and stalked back down the hall.
*
Martha and Danielle sat on the porch drinking coffee. A lot of hammering was going on around the corner of the house where the new porch addition was being built.
“Hey, you guys, come here. You’ve got to see this,” said Heather, watching the construction crew from the porch railing.
Martha and Danielle got up and went to where Heather was standing.
“Watch the old guy.” Heather chuckled. “He lets go of the walker to hammer, then grabs it quickly before he falls down.”
“I can’t imagine how much that old fool is paying these guys,” said Martha, disgusted.
“The old guy really likes you, Grandma,” she said. “He’s blowing you kisses.”
The old man was looking straight at Martha and wiggling his tongue at her.
“This is disgusting!” she yelled. “Where’s Nut Head?”
Danielle and Heather burst out laughing.
The phone on the porch started to ring. Martha hurried over to answer it. She was still angry.
“Yeah? Hello!” she yelled into the phone.
“Oh, Madeline, I’m sorry . . . I’m just angry at the old fool . . .
“I know they’re all fools.” . . .
“Yeah, well, I got the ‘king’ over here.”
Martha turned to Danielle. “Madeline says there’s an old beat-up van out back in the date grove. Some wild-looking guy is loading all that old lumber we gave the neighbor.”
She spoke into the phone again, “Describe it.” . . .
“Uh huh, white, really beat-up, green lettering on the side.” . . .
“Does it say, “Krypton Construction”?” . . .
“Ah huh, that would be the leader of the construction company Jed hired to do the porch. The rest of the pod is still over here.” . . .
“Come and see for yourself,” she said, and put the phone down.
*
Madeline stood watching the big Kadafi look-alike work. “He seems to know what he’s doing,” she observed.
“One out of four ain’t bad,” snarled Martha.
“I thought there were only three of them?”
“I’m including the fourth stooge, Jed.”
“Oh.” Madeline laughed.
“Hey!” shouted Danielle from the corner of the house. “The old guy with the walker fell in the lake! Hurry!”
They all ran to the side of the house. Down at the lake, Heather was dragging the old man out of the water. “I had to rescue him,” she said.
“What was he doing down there?” Martha shouted from the porch.
“Taking a pee,” said Heather.
“In our lake? We swim in there!” she yelled, storming down to the water. She walked right up to the old man who was still dripping wet. “Goddamn it, you go piss someplace else! We swim in here!” She pointed at the lake.
“No comprende,” said the old man.
“No pee, no pee!” Martha shouted, pointing down at his pants.
“Ah, ‘señora,’” he said and looked down at his crotch, smiling.
“Oh, for! . . .” Martha exclaimed, jumping back. “He didn’t get zipped up!”
“No pee, damn it, no pee!”
The old man seemed to understand and started pointing at the lake.
“Flishbee, flishbee,” he
said.
“What the hell’s he saying? Frisbee, Frisbee? What the hell’s he talking about?”
“I think he’s saying “fish pee”,” said Heather.
“I don’t care if the fish piss in the lake! ‘You don’t!’” Martha shouted at the old man and stomped off.
*
“Marco calling Turkey Guy, Marco calling Turkey Guy,” the Kadafi look-alike, Marco, yelled into his handheld radio. “Come in, Turkey Guy!”
There was nothing but static coming back from the radio.
“Blasted Turkey Guy, come in!” he continued.
“What’s the problem?” Jed asked, heading his way.
“Lumber, we need lumber now,” Marco said. “Where did Turkey Guy go?”
“I gave him money to get the lumber,” said Jed.
Marco got back on the radio. “This is Marco calling Turkey Guy, Marco for Turkey Guy, come in, Turkey Guy.”
“Why do you call him Turkey Guy?” asked Jed.
“He comes from there?” said Marco, uncertain.
“He’s a Turk?”
“Is that a Turkey Guy?”
Jed shook his head impatiently. “Yeah, probably.”
“Yeh, yeh, yeh,” screamed the Turk from the radio.
“Turkey Guy, this is Marco. Where are you located?”
“Yeh, yeh! I stuck in mud!” cried Turkey Guy.
“What are you doing in mud?” asked Marco.
“The van, you dumb Mexican, the van is stuck in mud!”
“Not again,” he sighed and looked at Jed, shaking his head. “Dumb-ass foreigner.”
“Yeh, yeh, yeh,” screamed the Turk. “You and Blanco come now!”
“Blanco no can come,” Marco said, smiling at Jed. “He stuck in mud.”
“Yeh, yeh, why you say this?”
“Blanco fell in lake,” he said, mocking the Turk’s English.
“Yeh, yeh, he work. Why at lake?”
“Don’t know. Maybe counting fishes?”
“Yeh, yeh, he must work.”
“What’s with the ‘yeh, yeh’ all the time?” asked Jed.
“Turkey Guy gets excited.”
“Well, where is Turkey Guy? We need to get this porch done before my wife starts in on us. You don’t need that, trust me.”
“Turkey Guy, where are you stuck?” Marco shouted into the radio.
“Yeh, yeh, I don’t know.”
Marco rubbed his eyes and started swearing in Spanish, “‘Tu puta madre,’ Turkey Guy. How we supposed to—”
“You morons!” Martha shouted out the door. “Your fearless leader is out behind Madeline’s in the date grove. Jed, get over there right now and get this cluster fuck back on the road! You hear me?”
“Okay, let’s go get Turkey Guy out of the mud,” said Jed.
“No, “señor”. If we do not do it ourselves, Turkey Guy will be mad. And then we get no money,” said Marco.
“What? And how do you propose to get the van unstuck?” asked Jed.
“I push it.”
“What? The crazy Turk doesn’t help?”
“Yes, he drives.”
“What? Get Blanco to drive.”
Marco shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no, “señor”. Blanco . . . he not good. He hit house.”
“What? . . . We’ll use my pickup to get him out,” said Jed, exasperated.
“Oh, no, “señor”, then Turkey Guy will be mad, and then we don’t get all our money.”
“I don’t care!” yelled Jed. “I just want this job done . . . And to hell with Turkey Guy. I’ll bet Blanco isn’t going to get paid anyway after falling in the lake.”
“Oh, no, “señor”, Turkey Guy no pay Blanco. He buy him beer at end of day.”
“What? That poor old guy works for nothing but a few beers? That’s not too honest of Turkey Guy.”
“Oh, no, “señor”, Blanco’s wife give Turkey Guy money for the beer so Blanco is out of her way. She has girls in her house, and Turkey Guy goes there.”
“Why the hell would you work for a guy like that?”
Marco shrugged. “I am foreman.”
“You must be proud,” said Jed, off to rescue Turkey Guy with his pickup.
*
Danielle and Heather walked up to the porch, where Martha was sitting.
“Mother, what do you think you’re growing in that flower bed along the waterfall?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Heather and I were just down there. Mother, that’s pot growing there.”
“Oh, come on, it’s just some weeds.”
“Well, you’re technically right there. It is definitely “weed”.”
“It must have just blown in,” Martha said.
“No, Mother, it’s all nice and sticky and purple and cultivated. It’s got “guess who” written all over it.”
“That goddamn Ricky the Rat!” snarled Martha. “No wonder he’s been coming out offering to help.”
“Ricky voluntarily agreed to do something constructive, and you didn’t suspect anything?” Danielle laughed. “That is the first sign of Alzheimer’s, Mother.”
“Oh no!” Martha sat up quickly. “Do you think Al, from down the street, noticed it? He was out admiring our waterfall because he wants to put one in his place.”
“What are you getting so excited about? It’s probably no big deal if he did,” said Danielle.
“He’s the district attorney, you boob!”
“Oh!” Danielle chuckled with her hand over her mouth.
“You think everything is so funny when it happens to someone else, but you sure squawk when he does it to you.”
“Like a three-hundred-pound opera singer giving him oral sex in my bed?” said Danielle.
“Danielle, your daughter is present,” Martha said sternly.
“Oh, pfuut, Mother, she’s the one that told John about it.”
“Heather!” Martha said.
“Grandma, if you were worried about my innocence, you certainly wouldn’t let me come out here, or hang around the Walnuts. You’d send me to a convent or something.”
“See!” shouted Martha. “You’re ruining this child with all your irresponsible actions, every one of you!”
*
A half-hour later Jed drove back into the ranch. He got out of the pickup, came into the house, and went straight for the refrigerator. He got a beer, popped the top, and gulped down the contents.
“Well?” asked Martha.
“Well, what?” Jed was perturbed about something.
“The porch—when is it going to get done?” scolded Martha.
No response from Jed.
She tried again. “You’ve been gone a long time, and nothing is getting done. Where have you been?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Jed, going for another beer.
Heather walked in. “Hey, Grandpa, what’s that sticking out of the back of your truck?”
“I told you all, I don’t want to talk about it!” he said, turning on his heels and going outside.
“This must have cost him a bundle,” said Martha. “He’s not even trying to defend himself.”
Martha followed Heather outside to see what she was talking about. Danielle was out by the truck, gazing at a long, heavy, metal object with a tire on one end. The other end was deeply imbedded in the twisted tailgate of Jed’s pickup. The object had a big nylon rope tied around it. The other end of the rope was attached to the trailer hitch.
“What the hell is that thing?” asked Martha.
“Judging from the one tire still on that end,” Heather said, pointing to the end not stuck in the truck, “I’d say that is what’s left of Krypton Construction.”
“Huh?”
“Somebody probably tied the rope to the Turkey Guy’s van and tried to pull it out of the mud,” she explained.
Martha was annoyed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Danielle laughed. “I’d say the axle and the van
are no longer one.”
“Poor Grandpa,” said Heather.
“Poor Grandpa, my ass,” snarled Martha. “He’ll never learn.”
“The only thing those guys were missing was Daffy Duck,” Danielle said, shaking her head and laughing.
As Jed walked back from the storage shed, Heather asked, “Grandpa, how come you didn’t leave the axle from the van with Krypton?”
“I can’t get the knot loose, and I’m not going to ruin a perfectly good rope,” he growled, continuing on his task.
“Can you imagine how much this is going to cost him? And he’s worried about the rope,” said Martha, looking at the mangled tailgate. “True to form, like always. I need a beer.”
“But Grandma, it’s only two,” said Heather, grinning.
“Bullshit. I’d know if it wasn’t three yet,” she said and headed for the house.
“No, Grandma, I swear, it’s not three yet.” Heather looked at her watch with a devious smirk on her face.
*
“Boy is Mother in a foul mood,” Danielle said, coming into the family room.
“What’s her problem now?” asked Jed.
“I don’t know. She’s in her bedroom pacing back-and-forth.”
“She’s probably getting really thirsty,” said Heather. She looked over at John and giggled.
“What the hell is going on here?” Martha howled, coming down the hall. “Somebody set all the clocks back an hour! I knew it was three o’clock! Somebody is going to pay!”
Heather quietly sneaked out of the room. She looked back at John from the hall and gave him a thumbs up.
“John, you devil,” whispered Jed, who had seen the signal from Heather.
*
“Where’s that goddamn Ricky?” Jed asked. “I see his car here.” He walked out to the porch.
“He’s out rummaging around in the burn pit,” said Danielle. “He’s all pissed off because you pulled up his plants. He’s trying to salvage them.”
“Well, I wish him luck. I burned the whole lot of them this morning.”
“Geez, Dad! You should have told us so we could have hung around the fire and gotten really stoned.”
“You kids and your dope smoking,” Martha scolded her. “Christ, it’s no wonder you’re all so screwed up.”
“Mother, you pickle your brain cells with beer, and “we’re” the ones that are screwed up? Besides,” she continued, “it’s the breeding that did us in. The pot helps keep us under control.”
“What?” said Jed. “You don’t even know how to spell “control”.”
*
“I can’t believe you burned up all my pot!” yelled Ricky, approaching. “I can’t trust you guys with anything!”
“What? Trust? What the hell do you know about trust? You sneak out here and plant illegal drugs, and you talk about trust. They could confiscate this whole place!”