The Walnuts

  Ferkle gave him a quick glance. “I’ve seen him around.”

  “What’s he doing here?” asked Bob.

  “Bob, he just came out to see the ranch.”

  “And what a beautiful one it is,” said Ferkle. He walked to the door and looked out over the porch. “This is the kind of place I’m going to have someday soon,” he said with conviction.

  “When would that be?” asked Martha, curious but confident. “When you find the right person to share it all with?”

  “Yes,” he said quickly. He looked at Danielle with longing. “A wonderful place like this should be shared with a beautiful woman.”

  “Oh, boy!” said Heather from the kitchen, watching Ferkle. His gaze seldom left Danielle, his face dominated by desire.

  “We have plenty of company as it is, so don’t get your hopes up,” Jed said.

  “Yeah,” Martha put in, “I have enough to do without another of my family’s loser friends hanging their hat on my door—”

  “Come on, Ferkle,” said Danielle. “I’ll show you around.”

  Danielle headed out the door to the porch. “This is the lake I told you about,” she said, pointing to the water.

  “Why don’t you clean it or something?” Bob shouted at Ferkle. “That should really impress her!” He had followed them to the door and stood there with a devious look on his face.

  “Don’t mind him,” said Danielle.

  “This is a beautiful lake. I would have made it much bigger, though,” said Ferkle.

  “There’s a shovel around the side of the house,” shouted Martha from inside.

  Danielle put her hand on Ferkle’s forearm and quietly said, “You have to watch what you say around here.”

  Ferkle’s breathing froze as he felt Danielle’s touch. She noticed the effect the simple gesture had caused and removed her hand.

  “Come on,” she said quickly, walking to the edge of the patio and starting down the steps.

  “Oh, I’ll follow you anywhere, lovely woman,” gushed Ferkle. He rushed to get down the steps first and extended his hand to help her onto the grass. Danielle giggled and let him lead the way.

  “What an idiot,” said Jed, watching from the window. “She’s smiled at him one time, and he’s gone off the deep end.”

  “I’m leaving!” said Bob.

  “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass!” yelled Martha.

  “Bye, Bob,” added Wanda.

  “Don’t be a stranger.” Jed couldn’t resist joining in.

  Heather just stood up, smiling and waving goodbye.

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easy!” he shouted and headed back to the family room. He plopped down on the couch, extended his legs and slammed them down on the coffee table.

  “You want to have one of your temper tantrums, you take it home!” shouted Martha. “You hear me?”

  “Yeah, I hear you,” Bob pouted.

  *

  Bob sat there awhile, then got up and went to the window. Danielle and Ferkle were down at the lake, laughing about something. Bob went back to the couch and repeated the earlier display.

  *

  Martha walked out onto the porch and yelled to Danielle, “We have to go to Madeline’s, so let’s get this show on the road!”

  “We’re going to the neighbor’s,” Danielle told Ferkle as they walked back to the house, “but it was nice having you out.”

  Ferkle was fidgeting. “Do they have a place as lovely as this?”

  “They don’t have a lake as big as ours.”

  “I want to see more of these ranches so I can get ideas for the one I’m about to build,” said Ferkle, stepping up to the porch. His puppy look had returned.

  Martha stood at the door. “We can’t just bring anyone we wish,” she said.

  “Maybe we can make a trade?” Ferkle pleaded.

  “Go home,” said Martha.

  “I’ll come out and work for you, ‘free!’”

  “Free?” Jed exclaimed, causing Martha to groan.

  *

  “I’m not going. I’ve not been properly invited,” stated Bob as the Walnuts and Ferkle headed out the door.

  “What?” hollered Jed. “We said you could go. That’s the only reason we let you come out here in the first place. What the hell do you need, an engraved invitation?”

  “If this affair was worth attending, yes, that would be the sort of thing people would do.”

  “Bob, it’s a barbecue,” said Danielle.

  “Well, I’m not attending,” said Bob.

  “Fine, suit yourself,” said Danielle. “We’ll be gone a couple of hours.”

  *

  At the barbecue, Ferkle was talking to Harold. “How much land does your ranch “encompass”?” he asked, looking around to see if Danielle was listening.

  “Five acres,” said Harold.

  “It doesn’t seem to be as large as Jed’s.”

  “No, they’ve got two parcels, ten acres.”

  “Are there any twenty-acre parcels around here?”

  Ferkle looked intently out the window.

  “The one over there is close, I think.” Harold indicated the empty property next to them.

  “I’ll be looking at it in the morning,” stated Ferkle. “I’ll want to get started on my ranch as soon as possible.”

  “Do you have any idea what land costs around here?” asked Harold, obviously put off by Ferkle’s barking.

  “Oh, I have plenty of money. I’m an entrepreneur,” he boasted as Jed walked up.

  “What’s-his-name here is going to outclass us both,” Harold told Jed.

  “That so? It’s going to be expensive. How are you going to pay for it all?” Jed asked.

  “My new business that I’m starting next week will generate two million the first year,” bragged Ferkle.

  “What business might that be?” asked Jed cynically.

  “The one I’m starting. It will make me—”

  “What’s the business?” Jed interrupted sharply.

  “I . . . I haven’t decided yet,” he stammered.

  “What?” Jed shouted. Everyone turned to listen. “You’re going around telling people that you’re starting a business, and it’s going to be wildly successful, and you haven’t figured out what the business might be? Is that your spiel?”

  “Anything I try will be successful. I’m an entrepreneur,” Ferkle said as Danielle hurried over.

  “He’s also a gifted salesman,” she said, trying to defend him.

  “What?” Jed shouted at Danielle. “He couldn’t sell “you” to a bus load of drunken sailors!”

  “And you’re an idiot,” he told Ferkle.

  Jed looked at Wanda. “I can’t imagine what she sees in this rube.”

  Wanda winked at Jed and shouted, “Hey, Pool Boy, you must have a big wanger, huh?”

  “Oh God!” shouted Heather, making a retching noise.

  “That makes sense,” added Jed. “Obviously there wouldn’t be intellectual stimulus.”

  Ferkle looked confused. Danielle leaned over and whispered in his ear. He shook his head and a smile appeared on his face.

  “Yes, I am quite well endowed,” he said confidently.

  “Gee, that’s too bad,” said Martha, sensing an opening. “It’s going to be rough a little later in life. Of course, I would imagine a high-strung fellow like you might have had the first signs of problems already.”

  “Mother!” said Danielle.

  “Now, Danielle, a fellow such as Ferkle here,” Martha pointed at him with a look of genuine concern, “should be aware of his limitations.”

  “Ah, I . . . I don’t have any limitations.” Ferkle sounded baffled.

  “Oh, maybe not yet, but I can sense that you have some issues with high blood pressure,” said Martha.

  “Yes, it runs in my family, but with medication—”

  “Already!” said Martha.

  “Mother, please!” said Danielle, exasperated.
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  Martha shook her head. She looked sad. “See, Ferkle, you guys with the big gun have diminished capabilities as you get older. The old heart can’t keep the necessary pressure up, and the manhood falters.”

  “Huh? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You can’t get it up, fool!” Martha sounded disappointed with Ferkle’s lack of understanding.

  Danielle made the mistake of laughing along with everyone else.

  “It doesn’t happen very often,” he whined, looking quickly at Danielle.

  “Mother, that was cruel and uncalled for!” Danielle said after the laughing had died down.

  Ferkle stood behind her with a solemn look on his face. His only protection from the constant onslaught from the Walnuts was Danielle.

  *

  “What the hell is all the quacking?” Jed asked, coming around his porch with Danielle, returning from the neighbors.

  Heather stood by the door. “It’s Bob,” she said. “He’s on the deck having an intelligent conversation with the ducks.”

  “Where the hell is all the beer?” Martha roared from the kitchen, the refrigerator door open in front of her.

  “Bob drank it all!” Heather shouted.

  “Bob doesn’t drink beer,” said Danielle.

  “Well, there’s three cases of empties lined up on the railing right in front of him, and he’s quacking like a duck. I’d say he looks suspicious,” said Jed.

  “There’s also a big spot of foam in the grass right below him,” said Heather, laughing.

  “You mean that S.O.B. poured all the beer out and is pretending to be drunk?” shouted Martha.

  Danielle sighed. “He does that when nobody’s paying him any attention. It’s his way of pouting.”

  “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this crap.” Martha shook her head.

  “Why do we have to put up with this nonsense?” asked Jed.

  “Do you think the ducks will accept him as their leader?” asked Heather.

  “Nah, he’s just something for them to do, for now,” said Wanda. “When they fly north, I doubt they’ll want him out in front. They’re not that dumb.”

  Bob heard the comments and intensified his drunken act. He staggered to one of the metal folding lawn chairs. Reaching it, he thrust both hands out and collapsed.

  “Owww!” he screamed. “Oh my God!” He jumped up, holding his right hand.

  No one was paying him any attention.

  “Help me, help me!” he shouted, still holding his hand.

  “Bob! Cool it!” yelled Heather, the only one still outside with him. “You’re scaring the ducks, and they’re the only friends you have right now!”

  Bob was yelping and hopping around, holding his hand up as it started to bleed.

  “What the hell did you do, you idiot?” asked Heather.

  She walked over to the deck and looked down.

  “Oh, ick!” she shouted. “Hey, everyone!” She ran to the door and looked inside. “Babad Bob whacked his finger off!”

  Jed was the first out the door. “What?”

  Heather pointed down to the deck. “Babad Bob whacked his finger off,” she repeated.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Don’t be silly.”

  “I’m not being silly,” she said, pointing down. “There’s Bob’s finger, and he’s over there.” She pointed to Bob, who had run out onto the lawn and was hopping around, still yelping.

  “Son—of—a—bitch!” said Jed. “She’s right. That idiot did cut his damn finger off.”

  Martha came out to see what the ruckus was about. “What’s wrong with that fool now?” she asked.

  “Bob cut his finger off,” Heather told her. “It’s lying on the deck there.” She pointed to the bloody finger.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” exclaimed Martha. “Jed, do something!”

  “What the hell do you expect me to do?”

  “I don’t know,” shouted Martha, watching Bob dance out on the lawn. “I knew if he came out, there’d be trouble.”

  Heather ran into the house.

  Bob was still hopping around when John got to him. He grabbed Bob’s arm.

  “Don’t you touch me, you, you weirdo!”

  “Just settle down, I’m trying to help you,” John said, holding Bob’s wrist.

  “Nobody can help me. I’m disfigured for life!” cried Bob.

  “What?” shouted Jed. “Now, wait a minute!”

  “Now, Bob,” said John, “we need to deal with this right now. Let me help.”

  “I don’t want your help. I don’t want anyone’s help!”

  “Bob,” John said calmly, squeezing Bob’s hand.

  Bob got a strange look on his face, but calmed down.

  Heather returned with a big cup full of ice.

  “What are you doing?” asked Martha.

  “I’m going to get the finger,” she replied.

  “Don’t touch that thing!” shouted Martha.

  “Oh, Grandma,” she replied, picking up the finger and placing it in the cup. “If we keep it cold, they can sew it back on.”

  “There you go!” said Jed. “Somebody’s finally thinking. No need to worry, Bob, you’ll be good as new.”

  “No, I won’t, I’ll never be the same again,” he said, showing everyone the stump where his finger had been.

  “Aaauugghh!” shouted Martha, running back into the house.

  “We’re headed to the hospital,” said Jed. “We’ve got to help Bob.”

  *

  Jed piled Bob, Danielle, Wanda, and Martha into his pickup and sped off to the hospital.

  “I think we need to stop here to fortify ourselves for the unpleasant task at hand,” said Martha, pointing at the bar and restaurant coming up.

  “I don’t want to go into a bar, I want my finger put back on,” whined Bob. “It hurts like hell!”

  “There you go. A couple of drinks will do you good, you big baby,” she snorted. “Turn in, Jed!”

  “I don’t think we should waste any time,” Jed said. “We need to—”

  “Turn in!” ordered Martha. “I’m not relishing the thought of sitting in that damn hospital, and it’s his fault.” She pointed at Bob. “He poured out all the beer.”

  Jed reluctantly drove into the parking lot. As they were piling out of the truck, Bob grabbed the cup with his finger in it.

  “Just leave the damn thing!” instructed Martha. “Nobody’s going to want your finger in an eating establishment.”

  “I want my finger with me.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake! I’m not going to sit here and argue. Take the damn thing,” she grumbled and headed for the bar.

  *

  “What’s with him?” asked the bartender, looking at Bob, who was rocking back-and-forth on his bar stool.

  “He’s missing some crucial parts,” Martha said.

  “What, he’s mentally challenged or something?” The bartender looked at Bob more closely.

  “That too,” said Martha. “Damn fool cut off his finger.”

  “How did he do that?”

  “Pretending to be drunk,” said Jed.

  “Shouldn’t he be in the hospital?” The bartender moved down to Bob, whose head was now down on the bar. “Are you okay, buddy?” he asked, reaching for the cup that was sitting on the bar in front of Bob.

  “No, I am not!” he declared his head still on the bar.

  The bartender grabbed the cup, dumped the contents into the sink, and naturally hit the disposal switch.

  “Nooooo!” shouted Danielle. She saw what was happening, but the bartender was too quick for her.

  *

  “You guys are back quick,” Heather said when they returned. She was sitting in the family room talking on the phone. “Did Bob get fixed up?”

  Jed’s shoulders were slumped. “We needed to get that finger back where it belonged.”

  “We lost the finger,” Danielle said quietly.

  “You lost the finger?
” said Heather incredulously “Where?”

  “Where else?” Danielle shrugged. “In a bar.”

  *

  Ferkle was rummaging around in the refrigerator. He left when the Walnuts went to the hospital. However, when they returned Ferkle was walking around the raw land that was going to be his ranch. He immediately rushed back to continue the pursuit of Danielle.

  “What the hell are you doing going through my refrigerator?” Martha shouted.

  Ferkle jumped, dropping the pitcher he had in his hand. It smashed on the floor.

  “I . . . I was—”

  “Get out of my refrigerator, now!”

  “Mother, he was getting me something to drink.” Danielle tried to defend poor Ferkle, who was clearly not sure what to do.

  “Get your own damn drinks. I don’t want him in there!” Martha shouted. “He’s been here a couple hours and he’s already making himself at home.”

  “Mother, you’re being ridiculous.”

  “I am not! I don’t like that guy!” she yelled.

  Ferkle was moving slowly toward the door.

  “Mother, you don’t like anyone I’m involved with!”

  This caused Ferkle to stop cold in his tracks. His big, dopey grin spread across his face.

  “I want him out of here, now!”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” shouted Danielle. “I’m a grown woman!”

  “—that plays with little boys,” said Martha.

  “I do not! I resent that!”

  “Then tell me this—why are you interested in Pool Boy there?”

  “I’ll be interested in who I want!”

  Ferkle was grinning ear to ear.

  “Is that why you encouraged him to stay?”

  “I did not encourage him. He invited himself.”

  “And that doesn’t raise any flags?” asked Jed.

  “You have always been against any man that’s interested in me. And that’s exactly why you’re against poor Ferkle!”

  “You idiot, he’s a fraud!” shouted Jed.

  “No, he’s not! He’s going to build a big ranch right next door!”

  “Agguuurrr!” shouted Jed, throwing up his hands and walking away.

  *

  Ferkle had a look of satisfaction on his face as Danielle escorted him outside to his car.

  “I want to go to sleep and not wake up until I see you again,” Ferkle told her, looking intensely into her eyes. He held both her hands and tried to pull her to him.

  “Oh, go home. You’re being silly.”

  She giggled as he tried to squeeze up tight against her.

  *

  When Danielle walked back into the family room, her mother was the first to speak.

  “Well, that was interesting,” she said.

  “Don’t start,” warned Danielle. “I don’t need any crap from any of you.”