If You Kill It You Gotta Eat It

Tinkletoes and Carp slowly raise their heads listening for any unusual sounds, sniffing the air for smoke, looking for flickers of flame. There was nothing. They rise, helping Mr. Donut get up after they do.

“It's okay. The rest of you can get up now.” Tinkletoes calls to the elderly men at the south end of the yard.

They rise, slowly. Helping each other as needed.

“That's a lot of bullet holes.” Mr. Morely says.

“Sure is.” One of his companions agrees.

“A shame.”

Comments continue to sprinkle through the yard.

“That was a damn fine shed too.”

“What a waste.”

“I hope there wasn't any gasoline in there.” Carp says.

“She stores that in the other shed.” Tinkletoes says. Looking at Mr. Donut he says, “Well Sweets that was your first time with an Uzi. Let's see what you caught.”

Carp makes his way over to the shed's remains. Walking up the ramp he opens the door and disappears inside. He emerges pushing Writer Lady's lawn mower. “I've got good news and I've got bad news.” Carp says, “The good news is nothing punctured the gas tank. You two managed to destroy this mower without a single explosion.”

“And...” Tinkletoes says.

“I have a question for you Tinkletoes. How would you like it?”

“How would I like what?”

“How would you two like to eat this shed and lawn mower?” Carp asks. “If you kill it you gotta eat it. That's your rule isn't it?”

Mr. Donut pales, “I can't eat that stuff. I'm an old man.”

“Don't worry Sweets no one is eating metal.” Tinkletoes says. “Very funny Carp. Ha. Ha.”

“Sweets?” A voice calls.

“Busted.” A random voice is heard from the back of the yard.

“Sweets. Sweets Donut. Is that you?” A woman's voice calls from behind the recently deceased shed. She appears on the far side of the yard directly across from Tinkletoes and Mr. Donut. The new arrival is a tall woman. She is wearing thick glasses and a stern expression. The yard becomes quiet. The song of birds in the trees is barely audible. The dark blue t-shirt that says “Happy Birthday America” on it and matching capris are the complete opposite to her expression.

“Jean?” Mr. Donut asks.

“Yeah. Let me take a better look at you.” Jean says taking a few steps closer. “It's you alright. You look a little thinner. That's to be expected. It's good to see you came outside, about time.”

“I know.” Mr. Donut mutters.

“A 94 year old man wallowing like that. Your daddy would have had your hide for such behavior. Men these days...” Jean says, looking closely at Tinkletoes, “they've all gone too soft.”

Tinkletoes pales at the older woman's scrutiny and looks at the ground.

“Now that you're outside, I've been meaning to have a few words with you.”

“This isn't really the best time.” Mr. Donut says.

“The thing is I've been waiting 47 years to have this conversation. I really don't care if it's a good time. Y'all better sits your butts down.” Jean says looking at the group assembled in Writer Lady's backyard, “This could take a while.”

Carp and Tinkletoes double time it into the second shed to retrieve lawn chairs. When everyone is safely and comfortably seated in a semi-circle around Jean the real fun starts.

“Sweets Donut. Who said you could sit down?” Jean asks. “Stand up. Now. First of all I want you to know I never liked you. Most people know that. It's not like it's a secret or anything. I have not liked you since we were in school. What most people don't know is not only have I not liked you but I feel that way for a good reason. You Sweets Donut broke the heart of my best friend. If I had my way you would have been horse whipped years ago.”

Mr. Donut stands there in stunned silence.

“Do you remember Frances? Frances Morely?” Jean asks.

Sweets looks over at Mr. Morely.

“Francie did have a crush on you in school. I thought you knew that.” Mr. Morely says to Sweets.

“That's what I thought too.” Jean says. “It's a crush it will pass. She'll meet somebody. That will be the end of it. It wasn't. She lived a spinster's life happily. Wanting to be ready to marry when you were. She waited. Through her youth, when she was still young enough to have a family because she wanted to be with you even more. After all that time, over twenty years, you up and married Clara. Breaking her heart.”

“I didn't know. She married Kip, we continued seeing each other at dinners, bar-b-ques, picnics. She has always been pleasant...she makes the best pound cake I've ever had.” Sweets says.

“She made that pound cake for you.” Jean says.

“All this time?”

“In 1934, the year you and Mo graduated from the local school Francie made a pound cake for the dessert table. It was the first cake she baked all by herself. She was proud to bring it to her big brother's party. You said you loved it. When she fell for you a few years later she started making that pound cake, taking it to parties you would both be at hoping you would notice her.”

“I never did.”

“I'm surprised you noticed the pound cake you...you dunce! As for her marrying Kip, she never would have married Kip if I hadn't of pushed her. That was my fault. Anyway, Kip died. Clara passed a couple of years ago. When that happened I promised myself I would do what I could to try to help Frances. So!” Jean exclaims making everyone in the yard jump in their seats. “Here I am helping.” Jean leans in and looks Sweets in the eye “Stay Here!” she instructs. Turning around she heads over the shed. “Come on Francie let's go. You been waitin' your entire life for this don't leave now.” Jean says gently. “Get over here. Now. I don't want to have to drag your ass. Come on. Come on. That's good.” Jean reappears from behind the shed with a petite woman with big dark eyes and a weak smile. The pale flowered dress she is wearing looks just as timid as she is.   Francis is a holding plate in her hands which are shaking.

The two women are a sight making their way across the lawn. A study in large and small, loud and quiet, sturdy and fragile.

“Hi.” Sweets says to Frances.

The tiny woman manages to squeak out a return greeting and holds the plate out to him.

“Is this for me?” He asks.

Frances nods.

Sweets lifts the foil from the plate and takes a peek. “Pound cake. I love your pound cake Francie. How did you know?”

Frances smiles.

“You have been seducing me with these pound cakes for decades. I was wondering would you like to go out sometime?” Sweets asks.

Frances nods.

“Okay. I have to say this will go better if you talk.”

Frances nods.

“Can I walk you home?” He asks.

More nodding.

“I guess we'll get to the talking part eventually.” Turning to Jean Sweets says, “Thank you for setting things straight.”

“Thank you for being better than I expected.” Jean says.

Sweets turns to Tinkletoes and Carp. “Thank you both for helping me get out of the house. Start being me again. Playing with the guns and knives was interesting too.”

“You're welcome.” Carp says.

“Do us a favor. Don't do it again.” Tinkletoes says.

Mr. Donut nods, “That will not be a problem. I am happier with my guitar in my hands. It was nice meeting you both.”

“Don't forget Sweets you're one of the guys.” Carp says.

“How does a guy say good-bye then?”

“See you around.” Tinkletoes says.

“See you around.”

With the excitement over, the yard clears out quickly leaving Tinkletoes and Carp alone with Jean.

“This mess is your doing, isn't it young man?” Jean asks.

Tinkletoes studies the ground “Yes Ma'am.”

“I can't believe this. A grown man making a mess like this. If your grandfather were alive...”

“If Grandpa were alive he would've been here too.”

“Don't you talk back to me. I know who I married. Believe me when I say your grandfather would have known better than to set up a shooting range in town. That man was all about safety first. Safety first. Having a party at someone's house when they aren't home. Shooting up their shed...”

Tinkletoes continues studying the ground.

“I won't be telling your mother about this.”

“Thank you Ma'am.” Tinkletoes says looking at Joan.

“I'm going now. Clean up this mess. Don't forget to make amends. Call your mother.”

Jean exits the yard allowing Tinkletoes, Carp and nature to breathe normally again.

“That was your grandma?” Carp asks.

“Yeah. That was her.”