ENOUGH! ENOUGH!

THE DRONE

 

Alfred has something up his sleeve besides his withered arm. Everybody in town knows his mom was scared by a humongous long- tailed black rat right before Alfred was born. His mother was only sixteen then and full of old wives tales. She's about middle aged now and still believes in a lot of that malarkey.

 

With a grumpy voice I say to 'Al' again, (it's easier than 'Alfred' all the time) 'Al, you've told me your Mom's rat crap story too many times. Once more and I might immobilize your good arm! Get the hell away from me.' Does he move? No. He looks at me, lowers his head and makes an effort to gore me with his imaginary horns. He misses me by about two feet and falls on the grass. That gives me time to either help him or skedaddle. I choose skedaddle. For all I know he may still be lying in the grass looking for four leafed clovers.

 

Just as I am about to pass the supermarket, who comes out but Mrs. Boring, Al's mom.  Lots of people call her that because she is Queen of Boredom, but to her face we call her politely Mrs. Grayson. With a lilt in her voice she gives me a smiling 'Hello, Ralph. How about walking me home?' I know what's in store for me but can't say 'no.' In a second, one of her grocery bags is in my arms. We walk. She talks. 'Did I ever tell you how my son, Alfred....' I interrupt her. 'Yes, I know Al's your son and am positive you already told me what you want to tell me again.'
'So sorry, Ralph. I'll tell you a different one. Did you know a big, black, hideous rat came into my Mom's kitchen when I was on my way with my boyfriend, Jimmy, to the hospital to have my baby?'  'Yes, Mrs. Grayson, you told me that story at least fifty times. Last time the guy was your husband, not your boyfriend. Now you are telling me Alfred is a bastard?' Her face turns crimson.

 

She surprises  me and grabs her grocery bag right out of my hands. It tears. The canned goods slide towards the gutter. A roll of paper towels stops between my legs. 'Stay here. Don't move! I'll be right back,' I exclaim. A clerk fixes a double bag for me and I return quickly to Mrs. Grayson. She is standing right where I left her, posing like the Statue of Liberty. Her arm lowers and together we pick up the items she had ignored and fill the new bag. Silently we walk towards her house.

 

From two blocks away I can see somebody sitting on Mrs. Grayson's.  stoop. She sees the figure too and quickens her step. The groceries I have been carrying feel like lead. 'Hurry up, Alfred is waiting for me.' Rushing me again, she pulls the double bag out of my hand and it rips. The canned pineapple slices hit a tree. The tin is dented. Mrs. Grayson looks at it, blames me and tells me to take it back to the grocery store. I tell her to take it back herself.

 

Al stands there  not sure what he should do. After a few moments of thought, he walks over to his mom, looks at me, and hands me three clovers he had found in the grass. 'If you want to be my friend,' he says to me, I can tell you a story about a big, ugly black rat.' This time I say, 'Okay, tell me the story.'

 

He drones on and on, tells it word for word like he always does and then hands me the rest of his found clovers.