35

Chapter 35

...the old green water hose had been wrapped around me and it held me firmly to the big oak tree beginning to catch the first flames from the intergalactic comet which had blazed overhead not 5 seconds earlier. Danny the well-dressed cannibal midget jumped around the tree like a metal wind-up toy from the '30s. With a vengeance, he beat the ground with the red plastic baseball bat he'd stolen from the village elder. The sound was deafening, and I was paralyzed with fear! I turned my head to look at the alarm clock and see it is already 6:26 p.m. and...(wait. Hold it. I'm on the couch. No garden hose or comet or little midget. What was that sound?) There it was again. Oh. Knock, knock. The front door.
You'll remember that the last time this happened, I opened the door and stood face to face with a 7 foot tall purple dog selling water beds. I begin the stumbling journey to the portico, rubbing my eyes more out of psychological than optical irritation.
For some reason, the door was locked, and the same purple dog/man mutant from earlier was waiting on the other side. I opened it and let him in. My head felt like it was the size of a watermelon...a big one, and overly ripe. I put 2 and 2 together and realized I'd slept all day but also recognized my luck at not having died from an aneurism or something.
Bufford squeezed past me, the dog head knocking me into the door facing. He continued down the hallway. I mentioned that we had to get to the store to get the Chinese food and V8s for the evening's meeting. He gave me leave to go ahead without him, saying he needed a shower before dinner. With this sentiment I was in complete agreement. I grabbed my wallet and pulled back the curtain before stepping outside. I was looking for children wielding lead pipes. It's called "residual traumatic expectation response" (RTER) and it's real. I might mention that my smiley face shirt was completely ruined.
By the time I'd returned, Bufford had indeed showered and changed, and both Edgar and Ethyl had arrived. They were all sitting in the living room. I sat the paper bags of Chinese food and the 6 pack of V8s on the coffee table and went to get a beer for myself. Everyone began eating in silence. I returned and took a seat next to Bufford on the couch.
"Thank you, everyone, for coming. Ethyl needs our help. I'll turn the floor over to her, now."
She seemed confused from my last statement and fidgeted some in the chair. At length, she placed her hand in her pocket. She then pulled out the lottery ticket and held it toward the group, somewhat like a child would who had found a piece of live ammunition in the back yard. I suppose that meant she was comfortable enough to engage in discussion about it all. I reached up above the couch and pulled the curtain across the window in an attempt to stave off the sun's assault and continued.
"Ethyl has recently come across a winning lottery ticket and the sum is nothing to sneeze over. She has no idea what to do with it and needs some support and some ideas from us. Who has something to say on the matter?
"Have you seen my blue CosmoTech mug?" Bufford asked.
"Yes. Let's deal with that later, though."
"OK".
"Anything else, more to the specific point?
"This is very exciting, Ethyl. What are you going to do with it?"
"That's the problem, Bufford. She needs suggestions."
"Oh. Right. Most people who win the lottery divvy it all out to their friends and any relatives they like. Just saying."
"OK. We're not taking any of it. No one here is going to offer that as a suggestion again. That's too much pressure on her, and there are hundreds of better things to do with it, anyway. Most every humanitarian effort you could think of is experiencing dramatic economic shortfalls, and children in shoes need China."
"What?"
"Nothing. It's not important."
"There's an orphanage in the city," Edgar spoke up, crunching into an egg roll.
"Ah, now that's a better track. Ethyl, do you have any personal affinities? Causes about which you are passionate? We could start there."
"I would like to speak to my lawyer."
"What? That's, you don't have a lawyer...do you? Anyway, I realize this is difficult for you, but you have to trust us, and we'll all work together to make the right decision."
Ethyl seemed distraught. She was clutching a throw pillow to her chest with both hands. I saw the current discussion structure breaking down.
"Here, let's do this: tonight, I want everyone to write down on a piece of paper the top 3 ways you think Ethyl could use the money. We'll get back together tomorrow and give the sheets to her. She will consider them, then make her decision. Does that sound OK, Ethyl?"
Ethyl nodded, stood up and, with the pillow still firmly clasped to her chest, shuffled out the front door. I liked that pillow. Bufford, Edgar and I finished up the rest of the Chinese food in silence and they took their leave by 7:15. I was left alone. My head still throbbed and I was pretty sure the unfamiliar sound I heard was the sink in the kitchen developing a leak. How far away was Seattle, anyway?


end of book III