The Lion Tamer, General Fiction about basketball, racism, and nerd stereotyping! Options

[redsrock]

The Lion Tamer

Chapter One

He didn’t want to move, but according to his mother it was the only way of completely ridding themselves from the pain. The pain itself was mostly non-existent for Doug Willis, for he never even liked Bill, his stepfather, to begin with. His stepfather’s death was more of a closure for Doug than anything; the ending to a terrible chapter of his life, and a point where he could finally exist without having to live in fear of needless, drunken scolding. Bill had never hit Doug, but the constant bickering between all three of them had embedded somewhat of an eternal annoyance with Doug. He had despised Bill for his arrogance, drinking problem, and all-around “I don’t give a compassion about you, son” attitude. Enough was enough, and finally it was over.

During the first few days after Bill died that fateful night, drunk as usual and having slammed into the back of resting car, Doug felt very sad by the loss. Bill hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt and he had flown through this own windshield and then through the back windshield of the resting car in front of him. There had been in infinite amount of tears streaming down his mother’s face that night, and the days that followed. But Doug hadn’t cried once, nor did he ever plan to. For the first couple of days he felt sad, yes, but that time passed quickly and he realized how happier he was around the house. And then the happiness was taken away.

He had lived in southern Indiana all his life, and suddenly they were moving up the state and into northwestern Ohio, and in an old, worn-out van no less. It had been an entire three weeks since Bill’s death, but his mother had still not entirely moved on. Despite Doug’s great disapproval towards the man, Patti Willis absolutely loved him. Doug thought this was mostly because his real father had died when he was a toddler. Doug wished that had never happened and that his real father, whoever he was and however he acted, was there living with them. Then there would have never been Bill, and there would have certainly never been a move.

“Douglas, will you hand me the map?”

Doug looked up from his latest copy of Sports Illustrated and handed his mother the map that had been resting in his lap under the magazine. They had been driving the entire day, mostly non-stop except for meals and restroom breaks. Doug’s mother, much to his displeasure, had decided on driving through without staying at a hotel of some kind because that would have been too expensive. And like she had told him countless times before, even when Bill was still alive, “We’re not made of money, Douglas.” Such a quote Doug was greatly familiar with, and as he thought of this he made a slight smile.

His mother sighed and shook her head, staring at the map with a concentrated yet frustrated look. They were resting at a stoplight. “According to the map I passed up Sharon’s street about five miles back. But…but I never saw a street to pull into.” Doug paid her no attention and continued to read his magazine, content on ignoring her for as long as he was able to. “Doug, are you even listening to me?” The light turned green and she pulled into a gas station on their right.

“Yeah mom, sure. I didn’t see a street either.” And then he added, “Of course, we wouldn’t have this problem if we were still in Arizona.”

Doug’s mother slammed on the brakes as she stopped in an empty parking space. “Would you quit with the smartalic comments, Douglas? It’s getting very annoying. With Bill gone we don’t have much money, not that we had much to begin. Besides, Aunt Katie works at Haven High School in Haven, and she got me a job as an aid to the librarian there. We’re very lucky for that.”

“Couldn’t you have found that back in Duncanville?”

“No, likely not. I’ve been working at the grocery store ever since I can remember, Douglas. It’s high time to change that, especially now that Bill is gone, like I just said. This new job is nearly a three-dollar raise from what I was making back in Duncanville, and we’ll need the extra money,” She said, handing him back the map. “I know you don’t like it, but this is just the way it’s going to have to be. The sooner you get used to it the better. Here’s the map, I think I know where I’m going now.”

She took a left out of the gas station and Doug continued to read his magazine, but by then he really wasn’t paying any attention to what he was reading. The Yankees had signed another pitcher to a luxurious multi-year contract, but that wasn’t anything new. Doug, for the time being, no longer cared about the magazine, but he kept his eyes on the page and pretended to read so that his mother wouldn’t bother him. It had been a mere five days ago when he mother informed him of the move, and they had argued about it on and off that entire day. Doug had an endless number of friends to say goodbye to, mostly people he played basketball, football and baseball with, being the sports fanatic that he was. It had not been easy, but he had said his goodbyes and left the only town he had ever known. But the hardest part was still to come, and that was making new friends.

Making friends had been natural for Doug in Duncanville, mainly because it was a major sports town, and it was even home to the Duncanville Dragons, a AAA Baseball team for the Toronto Blue Jays. Doug hated the Blue Jays immensely because he was a Boston Red Sox fan and the two Major League teams were in the same division, but he went to many of their summer games because that’s how much of a sports fan he was. He only hoped Haven would share interests similar to Duncanville’s.

In a matter of minutes, after Doug’s mother realized that she had in fact missed the turn, the two pulled into White Horse Drive, a small one-street neighborhood surrounded on all sides by vast woodlands, except for the entrance and exit itself. All of the houses were two-level, and all of them looked very expensive. Doug’s aunt had insisted that he and his mother stay with she and her husband until Doug’s mother had enough money to pay for a house of their own. Doug’s mother found this embarrassing, as did Doug in a way, but Aunt Sharon wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Aunt Sharon Granger was nice enough, but Doug kept thinking there was something about her that he didn’t like. Doug and his mother would go to their house for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and The Fourth of July every year, and every year Sharon was as nice as can be. Still, there was something about her that didn’t strike him right. However, Doug knew he didn’t like her husband, Harold Granger. Doug despised his arrogance. In a way, though he didn’t yet recognize it, Harold was just like Bill, only not as drunk.

“Patti, you’re here!” Aunt Sharon yelled after answering the door. Doug stood behind his mother, holding onto two suitcases and three large duffle-bags, and that wasn’t even close to being half of their stuff. Doug noticed how green and clean the grass looked, and also how it was neatly trimmed where not even one spade of grass was taller than the other. Two apple trees in the front yard blocked the sun from staring into the windows, and the plethora of bushes and other shrubbery along the house kept the critters away. It was truly a beautiful scene, especially compared to his old house.

Doug wished he was back in Duncanville.

“And how’s my little Dougie, huh?” She asked Doug cheerfully, smiling and laughing like a two year-old, something Doug didn’t like being treated as.

“I’m fine, Aunt Sharon. Thanks for letting us stay here,” he offered, trying his best to sound thankful. In truth he was actually thankful, even though he didn’t want to be there. His aunt and her husband where going above and beyond to ensure them a pleasant place to stay, but Doug had a feeling it was all Sharon’s idea. He also had a feeling Aunt Sharon got whatever she wanted, for she was always wearing the most expensive clothing and the most glamorous of jewelry.

“Don’t you thank me, Dougie! I wouldn’t have it any other way! Come on in, it’s hot outside! Harry’s out back fixing some hotdogs and hamburgers for supper. You can help me with the salad and fruit, right?” She asked Doug’s mother, who nodded and said yes. “Good! Dougie, Stanley’s upstairs playing video games. Just make yourself at home, sweetie!”

Doug thanked her and then left the two women to their chitchat and took his own stuff, two duffle bags and a large suitcase, and traveled up the beautifully-carpeted stairs. Family photos decorated the cream-colored walls, and Doug noticed one of himself. It was last year’s school picture, and he was wearing a Boston Celtic’s t-shirt. (All of Doug’s favorite sports teams are from Boston, for no apparent reason.)

When he walked into his cousin’s oversized room, Stan was sitting in his black leather La-Z-Boy recliner. Next to him was a small table with a bowl of pretzels and a glass of what looked to be Coca-Cola. He was playing his game with such ferocity, his face red and sweaty and his fingers mashing the game-controller’s buttons with maddening speed and force.

“Oh come on, he’s freaking lagging! What a cheater!” He cried out, unaware that Doug was standing not even five yards behind him.

Both of the boys were sixteen years old, but almost complete opposites. Doug was an outdoors and sports kind of kid, while the majority of the time you’d find Stan nestled up in his room playing video games on his Xbox Infinity. The funny thing was that Doug was slightly thick, but not necessarily fat. And Stan, despite being inside most of the time, was as skinny as a rail with no athleticism whatsoever. Doug had always been astounded at how skinny Stan was even though he never exercised.

“Shut up, you just suck and you know it!”

Stan, having been greatly started, dropped the controller to the ground and almost fell out of his chair. Doug roared with laughter, and that’s when Stan turned around to see him.

“Dammit, Doug, you scared the hell out of me!” he cried out, his breathing still abnormal from the scare. “And no, I don’t suck. Look at that score! Twenty-nine kills and seven deaths, baby!”

Doug tossed his bags down and sat down beside his cousin in another chair of the same quality, but violet instead of black. “If you’re doing so good then why are you yelling like a baby?”

“Because I freaking hate cheaters! They hack into the game and do stuff. Like…in this game, some dude keeps getting under the map and shoots everyone, but they can’t shoot him. It’s so annoying.”

“Why don’t the people who made the game fix it?”

“The same reason I don’t play sports like you.”

“You’re lazy?” Doug asked, chuckling.

“Exactly. And besides, it’s not that big of a deal. The glitches are becoming less common, but this dude is the one who keeps killing. I would have been perfect if it wasn’t for him. Oh well, the game’s over now. So what’s up? I didn’t even hear you coming in.”

“Not much. Still angry because we had to move. No offense to you or anything.”

“It’s alright, I understand,” Stan replied, offering Doug some pretzels, who shook his head in return. “At least you get to hang with me. Maybe I’ll teach you some pointers in video-gaming so you’re not so awful!”

“Ooooor, we can go outside and shoot some hoops. It’s nice outside today, and my mom said it’s going to rain for the next couple of days.”

“Shoot some hoops? Doug…I don’t even know why we still have that basketball goal out there. We don’t ever use it for anything.”

“Probably for when I come over.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well let’s go then!”

Stan downed the rest of his Cola and sighed. “If you must, dear cousin.” And then he added sarcastically, “Don’t do want the nerd wants to do! That would be unpopular!”

Both of the boys laughed, though it was somewhat forced from Stan’s side. Last year he had been jumped by a group of students from his highs school because he had long hair that came down past his shoulders and was rather messy.

The two got up from their chairs and then started make their way downstairs. “Ah come on, Stan. Remember when we used to play with your dad all the time?”

“Yeah, but that was back when I was only a few feet tall, and it was before I met my Infinity. Times have changed, and I haven’t gotten any less nerdy. I’m even…well, nevermind.”

“What?” Doug asked, frowning at his cousin after they made it down the last step.

“I’ve….I’ve gotten into writing. Specifically, writing fan fiction.”

“Fan fiction?”

They walked through the kitchen, which had a gorgeous black and white checkered-tile floor with cabinets and tables and shelves to match, and walked outside through the back door. “Yeah, fan fiction. It’s when you write stories about something that’s already been created. In my case, I’m writing stories based on the Diflar’s Edge.”

“Isn’t that one of those video games where you actually create your own character, and you can buy things and all that stuff?”

“Yeah, a role-playing game. It’s so cool, man! But…I don’t really talk about it with many people. Writing stories isn’t very popular you know. Not cool enough I guess.”

Doug laughed again, and once they were outside he waved to Harry at his grill, who only waved back and then continued to stare back down at the food he was cooking. “You shouldn’t worry over what people think is cool and what isn’t. Just do what you love, Stan. Can I see one of these stories some time?”

“No, you can’t. Not until I finish them and edit them anyway. Besides, you’ll just laugh. You don’t play videogames, nor do you read fantasy or anything like that. That’s what you could compare my fan fiction to, fantasy writing. Like Lord of the Rings and stuff like that, only not as boringly written.”

“I do read a lot, but it’s usually sports magazines and the sports section of the newspaper. Where’s the basketball, Stan?”

“It should be in the garage. At least that’s where I put it after the Fourth of July a couple of months ago. Just go on in, it’s unlocked.”

Doug walked across the enormous backyard (a backyard that was easily three times the size his back in Duncanville) and walked into two-level garage. The structure itself could be a house if they wanted it to be, but it was mainly comprised of junk and no cars whatsoever. Unlike most of the people in the neighborhood, the Granger’s didn’t need a hundred fancy cars. Three were enough. (Stan had gotten his permit three weeks earlier)

Inside, Doug trekked through the messy maze of random items until he saw some that was a dull-orange color, in the corner of the room next to a couple of broken bikes. It was a basketball, but it was several flat. “Do you all have a pump?” he yelled loudly outside to Stan. “This ball is flat!”

“Yeah, there should be one in their somewhere!” Stan called back.

“Alright, that helps,” he said out loud to himself, shaking his head.

He searched around for a few minutes and finally found one, and it had been lying above him on a shelf the entire time. He pumped the ball up and then took it outside, where Stan was sitting under the room of an umbrella-table.

“Well come on, Stan, let’s shoot!”

He passed the ball quickly to Stan, who barely caught it after bobbling the ball several times. He brushed back his long, red hair and then pushed up his glasses onto his nose so they sat more firmly. He was wearing a pair of green gym shorts that to Doug looked to be a year or so too small. His black Carlos Santana t-shirt didn’t go at all with his outfit, but the fire around Carlos himself somewhat blended in with Stan’s hair. Stan took the ball and shot it, hitting nothing but the fence behind the goal.

Doug laughed at this, but tried to hide it. He didn’t do a very good job.

“Yeah, that’s real funny, all-star,” Stan commented while going to fetch the ball in the grass.

“Sorry, but your shot is funny. And no offence, but it’s gotten a lot worse since the last time we played. Why are you shooting with two hands all of a sudden?”

Stan tossed the ball, violently, to Stan, who caught with ease. Stan bent down to tie his Chuck Taylors. “I don’t know, I guess because I don’t play basketball,” he said sarcastically. “If you’re so good, teach me how to shoot.”

“Fine, come here.”

Stan walked over to Doug and stood there, and Doug could almost see the sun burning Stan’s milk-white skin. “First of all, you don’t grab the ball on both sides. Since you’re a right-handed shooter like me you put your right hand slightly under the ball, and then put your left hand on the side to keep everything balanced. See how I’m doing it?”

“Yeah. Very cool. Anything else, all-star?”

“Yes. Jump when you shoot. You’ll get a better arch that way.”

Doug bounced the ball over to Stan and then stepped aside while he watched his cousin try again. Stan shot and the ball bounced hard on the side of the rim and then rolled back into the grass, on the right side of the concrete-paved mini-basketball court that Harry had had constructed three years ago.

“Well, at least you hit the rim,” Doug offered, trying his best to stifle yet another laugh.

Before Stan could respond, Harry yelled from inside the house that the food was ready. The two boys forgot what they were doing and ran inside, their mouths watering, and the aroma of food having taken their minds off of everything else except their stomachs.






The dinner table, just like the rest of the house in general, was decorated lavishly. A light blue dinner cloth wrapped around the entire table, with random designs and shapes that Doug assumed were flowers of some kind. He didn’t ask, though, for he didn’t want to sound stupid.

“So how are the burgers and hotdogs?” Harry asked the table of five. Everyone answered with positive comments, and Doug could almost sense the look of pride coming over Harry’s face. “The grill out there cost me three-hundred bucks, so they better be good!” he joked, and subsequently everyone laughed. Doug’s was forced, as was his mother. As far as he knew, the two of them shared the same opinion about Harry, but didn’t dare speak of it, especially since the man was letting them live in his home.

“What about you, Douglas? How was that basketball tournament of yours? I remember you talking about it last time you were down here.”

Doug gulped down a large portion of mashed potatoes. “Good I guess. We only came in seventh though, out of sixteen teams. It was a three-on-three tournament, and the first three places got some kind of…portable game or something. I didn’t care about that, but my friend wanted one so I played with him. Basketball’s always been my favorite sport anyway.”

“Was it a Nintendo DS Ultra?” Stan asked.

“Yeah…I think so. That sounds familiar.”

Then Harry chimed in proudly and loudly, “I bought Stanley one of those a few months back I think, or maybe it was after you had left. I don’t remember. At any rate, it was a whopping two-hundred dollar that thing!”

Everyone laughed again, but this time except for Doug, he was swallowing yet another mouthful of potatoes, and then washing it down with a glass of root beer. Doug absolutely loathed it when Harry talked about spending money. He had the slightest feeling that he did it just because he knew Doug and his mother weren’t well off, but he didn’t really think that was true. What he did know was that the Grangers were lucky that their son wasn’t the spoiled brat that he could have been. Stan got whatever he wanted whenever wanted, and then some.

“How’s the job going, Harold?” Patti asked.

“Fine. Never been better actually. I sold three cars earlier today, all over sixty-thousand dollars. Business has been somewhat slow the past couple of months, what with the rise of gas prices because of the struggle between Iran and whoever the hell they’re fighting with now, but we’re getting along. I hear you’re starting school this coming Monday?”

“Yes, I can’t wait. Thank you two again for everything you’re doing for me and Douglas. We appreciate it very much. And I…I don’t want to be a bother around the house, so I’ll be paying you two rent.”

“Oh heaven’s no, sister!” Sharon began. “We invited you here after all! After what happened to Bill-”

Sharon raised her and interrupted her sister. “I know that, Sharon, but this is something I have to do. Please.”

Doug was proud to hear such an honorable promise, for his mother had never told him of the plan. It certainly made sense to Doug, and it was the least they could do.

“And if there’s anything you need Doug to do, just tell him and he’ll be glad to do it,” Patti added quickly.

Harry swallowed what was left in his tall glass of wine and wiped his mouth with a teal-blue cloth. “Well, as a matter of fact…” Doug swallowed a bite of his hamburger and looked up at Harry, not wanting to hear whatever it was he was about to say. “I’ve been talking with Stanley about cutting grass around the neighborhood. I know it’s just a one-way street here, but there are a lot of houses. It would do you two a bit of good I think. That was my first job after all, and it was my father’s as well.”

“That sounds wonderful, Harold. Douglas would love to help Stanley,” Patti said, kicking her son’s leg underneath the table.

“Sure, Uncle Harry. That sounds..great. When will we start?”

“You’d better get going I think, if you want to make a good amount of money before it gets too cold and the grass stops growing. I talked with Mr. Wiese, our neighbor, and he said you could start tomorrow. I’ve already primed the lawnmower, and it’s ready for use. How about it?”

Again Patti kicked her son’s leg, and again Doug answered, “That sounds great.”

[redsrock]

Chapter Two


After dinner, Patti and Sharon cleaned the table and then retreated into the kitchen to clean all of the dirty dishes, plates, and silverware. Harry went outside to clean the grill off, and then put a rain-repellant cover over the grill because of the oncoming storms that were forecasted to hit early tomorrow afternoon. Meanwhile during all of this cleaning, Doug and Stan were upstairs, Doug playing a video game while Stan stood close behind watching contently.

“No, Doug, you gotta push this button when the dude gets close. If you time it correctly your guy should stab the dude in the chest with his bayonet. Here, you want me to show you?”

“Nah, I think I got it. The X button, right?”

“Yeah, the blue one. Here comes another, get ready!”

Another enemy soldier in the video game popped out from behind a bush, and Doug pushed the right button just in time and killed hi, ending the game and giving Doug the victory. Both boys yelled with joy, and Doug got up from his chair.

“That game is hard. I’m done. You wanna play some more?” He asked, rubbing some leftover crumbs from his stomach.

“No, not right now. I had played three hours straight before you got here. It’s still light outside. Do you want to go shoot some basketball at the park? It’s a ten minute ride in the car, and my dad’s been letting me drive on my own to places that are close.”

“The park? You have your own goal.”

“Yeah, well there’s something we need to talk about. Something about Mr. Wiese you should know…and be warned about. So we obviously can’t talk about it outside, because Mr. Wiese could be sitting on his back porch.”

“I’m guessing this isn’t anything good, is it?”

“Let’s just go before it gets too dark. I don’t want to talk about it in the house anyway, just in case my parents hear us.”

As the two left, Doug noticed for the first time how messy the room was. The walls were covered with a countless number of band posters, and all throughout the floor laid an electric guitar, an acoustic guitar, random articles of clothing, and even an old, empty pizza box. Not to mention other things that Doug couldn’t recognize. He marveled at how messy his cousin’s room was, when the rest of the house was spick and span.

Downstairs the cleaning of the grill was complete, and Harry was sitting in the living room watching ESPN on his 72” plasma screen television. A Miller Lite was in one hand, with a box of chocolate-covered cherries in his lap. “Hey, boys! Where are you two headed now?”

The two were already at the door with Harry to their back, and Stan grimaced as he turned around. “Just to the park for a little bit.”

“Not this late you’re not. It’s already getting dark, and you’ve never driven in the dark. You can go tomorrow. And wait…just use the goal out back, Stanley!”

“Alright,” Stan responded, and the two cousins headed out back, their mothers still cleaning in the kitchen.

Outside the sun was almost entirely gone, and it was later than Stan had assumed it was. Despite that, he still walked over to grab the basketball. “Believe or not, Doug,” he began, dribbling the ball awkwardly that made Doug smirk, “I’ve been thinking about getting a little into basketball. I know school starts Monday, but it seems almost everyone plays in tournaments on the weekends, and they shoot around almost every day period. It looks fun, and I know you’re pretty good. Can you teach me?”

Doug was shocked. “Whatever happened to you not playing basketball?”

“I don’t know, but sometimes I think I can see through my skin. I need some sun, man.”

“Yeah, you do. But sure, I’ll teach you. But like…what do you mean? Rigorous training, or just the basics?”

“Everything. Basketball is pretty huge around here. I know I never told you, but that’s because I hadn’t really noticed myself until you left after the Fourth of July,” Stan said, taking a shot that hit nothing but the top part of the backboard.

Feeling very excited by this, Doug was having second thoughts on how miserable he assumed he would be in Haven. “That’s great, because I love basketball. This is going to be fun, teaching you to play and whatnot. What kind of games do they play?”

“Mostly three-on-three, but during the week people just get whoever they want to play. I had always seen them playing when I take walks, but I knew I wasn’t even near good enough to actually play. That’s why I was so happy when mom said you and your mom were moving in with us.” And then he added, laughing, “I mean, I’ll still be a nerd, but with your help maybe I can be an athletic nerd.”

“Well, I’ve already taught you how to shoot, so I guess you should just work on your shot this evening, and then we can start on some new stuff tomorrow. Today’s Friday, so we still have the entire weekend. So I guess I’ll have to wait on what’s wrong with Mr. Wiese till tomorrow?”

“I’ll tell you tonight probably when my parents go to bed, which should be around eleven or so, since they always get up early in the morning.”

As Stan continued to shoot, Doug wasn’t sure if he was getting better or worse. He hit a couple of shots, but they were mostly dumb luck. It mattered not to Doug, though. Progress was progress. But also as he watched Stan shoot, he took in the sounds and smells around him. The smell of freshly cut grass, the remaining smoke and BBQ smell from the grill; The sounds of children playing next door, the sounds of dogs barking while being walked around the neighborhood. Doug then realized that perhaps Haven wouldn’t be so bad after all.




“You did alright, Stan. I wasn’t really keeping track of how many you made exactly, but it was pretty good. Don’t worry, you’ll get better.”

“Maybe. I’m just too damn skinny. When we’ll play I’ll have to play…whatever position holds the ball the most. What’s it called again?”

“There’s shooting guard and then there’s point guard. Both don’t describe you very well, do they?” Doug asked, laughing.

Stan didn’t return the favor. “Yeah, real funny. I seriously want to be good, man! I’ll guess it’ll just take a while, huh?”

“Yeah. But you’re naturally fast, though how I have no idea how. So at least you got that going for you. By the way, it’s midnight. Is it safe to talk about this Mr. Weise guy?”

Stan was lying in his bed, Doug lying in a guest bed beside him on Stan’s left, a bed that had been brought in from the house’s guest room. The television (another plasma screen TV, but not quite a 72”) was on, but neither of the two were paying any attention to it. Stan was reading a book on and off under the light of the small lamp on the nightstand to his right, and Doug was resting on his back, looking up at a stain on the ceiling and wondering how in the world it got up there.

Stan closed his book. “Hold on a second.” He got out of bed, opened the door to their room, and then walked outside into the hallway. He returned seconds later. “Yeah, they’re asleep. So is your mom I think, so we’re good.”

“So what’s up, Stan? What is he, a child-killer or something?”

“No, not quite.” Doug looked over worryingly at his cousin as he climbed back into bed. Stan then turned the TV up just a tad bit louder, and then rolled over to face Doug. “Mr. Wiese is a retired cop, and he really, really loves his yard.”

At first Doug didn’t respond, for he really didn’t see it as that big of a deal. “So what, Stan? So he’s a little strict. Bill was as well, so I’m used to it. And as far as being in love with his yard, a lot of people were back in Duncanville, so I’m used to that as well.”

“He’s also a convicted felon,” Stan said flatly. “Got into a bar fight a couple of years back, put two guys in a hospital for three months, serious condition and all that crap. I don’t know whatever happened to them. Mr. Wiese is sixty-something years old, lives alone with his Boxer named Stimpy, and according to what my dad told my mom one time he drinks a lot as well. I don’t know about that last part, but I’m just telling you, Doug…sometimes he can get really nasty. I remember one time, I guess a few years back, he literally stuck his head into the mailman’s truck and cussed him out for not giving him the right mail. I guess he never gets in trouble for anything since he used to be a cop.”

Doug looked back up at the stain on the ceiling started to think. Mr. Wiese sure didn’t sound like a nice person, and that did somewhat worry him. Doug didn’t like getting yelled at. “So he’s not a very nice guy, eh?”

Stan’s eyes lit up with excitement. “See, that’s the crazy part, man! He’s never been anything but really nice to my family. He buys a new car from my dad every six months, and I have no idea where he gets the money. Even my parents don’t blow that kind of money.”

Doug thought about making a comment on how Stan himself got a lot of stuff as well, but he didn’t. “So…you think he’s hiding something?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I think. And that’s why I’m not too worried about mowing his lawn and all that. Maybe we can find out what he’s hiding.”

At this, Doug laughed and rolled back over to face his cousin. “Stan, you’re an idiot. First of all, there’s probably nothing wrong with him except for a short fuse. Second of all, what do you plan on doing, snooping through his house?”

“I don’t know…but there’s something about him I don’t like. And it was so weird when he yelled at that mailman. A lot of people came out of their houses to listen, and he tried to play it off like he was just kidding, once he realized everyone was watching. Most people on the street don’t like him, and for good reason. My dad does for obvious reasons, but my mom was very hesitant about letting you and I work for him. He’s just…strange is all. I thought I’d warn you ahead of time. He doesn’t know you, so he might snap on you accidently. I mean…hopefully he won’t kill you or anything.”

The two laughed, and Stan turned the TV and light off so they could go to sleep. Stan did so within minutes, but as his cousin snored like a bear, Doug continued to stare upwards. He could no longer see the stain, and the only reason he could see the ceiling at all was because the moon was shining off through the window so brightly. He thought about what Stan had said, and how worried he had sounded. Maybe we can find out what he’s hiding. Doug didn’t think much of this, and more than anything he wrote it off as his cousin playing too many video games and watching too many movies. Then he rolled over on his side and went to sleep.

The next morning Doug was awoken by the aroma of something that smelled awfully tasty, as did Stan. They walked downstairs to find that Sharon had fixed a marvelous breakfast, consisting of items such as sausage patties, biscuits, pancakes and waffles (with fruit topping), eggs, bacon, toast, and steak. (Just for Harry.) Doug was immensely surprised by this, for he had never been used to such meals unless he visited the Grangers. Breakfast back in Duncanville was usually non-existent, and when they did have breakfast more often than not it was McDonalds or Burger King. Stan, on the other hand, wasn’t surprised at all, and even gave his cousin a strange look after Doug got all excited.

“How’s the food, everyone?” Sharon asked as they all ate, Stan reading a gaming magazine and his father reading the newspaper. Sharon didn’t particularly like her son reading a magazine at the table, but she said nothing because it was basically the same thing as Harry reading the paper.

“It’s great!” Doug cried out, louder than he expected. Everyone one looked up him with surprise, even Stan who had previously been entranced with his magazine.

“Wow! I’m glad you like it sweetie,” Sharon said, her skinny cheeks blushing, and then ruffled proudly through her thick, long set of bright blonde hair.

“You two will need this hearty meal once you start mowing lawns. While you’re helping Mr. Wiese today I think I’ll get together some business cards for you to hand out to the rest of the neighborhood. Although I hate to admit it, there are a lot of old people living on this street. I guess that means something. Right, Sharon?” He asked her, grinning.

“If you say so, honey.” Then she turned her attention to Doug’s mother. “Patti, will you go grocery shopping with me today? I want to learn how to bake that wonderful Cherry Delight cake you make every Fourth of July, but I don’t think I have the ingredients.”

“Sure. When do you want to leave?”

“As soon as I’m done cleaning the dishes I think. Sometime around noon probably.”

“Great. And I’ll help you with the dishes of course.”

While the two girls talked back and forth, and while Stan was once again completely engrossed within his magazine, Doug continued to eat. And as he did, he noticed Harry was staring at him. He wasn’t grinning at all, nor was he frowning in any way. He was simply looking at Doug, almost as if he was looking right through him. Doug knew this not to be true, however. Suddenly Harry broke the silence.

“Let me as you a question, Doug.” Doug looked up his with eyebrows raised, and Harry continued, “What are your grades like? Or rather, what were they at the end of last school year?”

Confused by the question, Doug had to actually think about it for a few seconds. “Umm…three A’s and four B’s. Why?”

“Well, I had an idea. In one month Stan gets his official license, and he’ll be able to drive by himself wherever he wants. He makes good grades, and I told him I’d let him go to Paradise Island during the week-long Fall Break your school has. It’s an enormous amusement park, and I hear that a lot of students go up there during the break, and I figure this could be a good way for him to go out and meet some friends, have a good time and all that. The thing is, he told me that he didn’t want to go, and I think it’s because he didn’t have anyone to ride up with him. Would you want to go? I’d be willing to pay for your ticket and meals, and everything else there is to do up there. You only have to keep your grades to A’s and B’s. Stan keeps his at all A’s, but I don’t think anyone has ever told me of yours. So, how about it?”

Doug was completely taken back by the offer. All of these years he saw Harry only as an arrogant person, caring nothing about buying expensive things and then gloating about it. But now the tables were turned and Doug was feeling like the bad guy, apparently having held the wrong assumptions and feelings for his uncle. The ladies had stopped chatting, Stan had looked up from his magazine for the second time during the meal, and all eyes were on Doug. He looked over to his mom, who only smiled and nodded slightly.

“Are you sure, Uncle Harry? That’ll be awfully expensive.”

Harry laughed, his barely thick stomach shaking. “Of course I am, boy! I’m one who believes good grades are vastly important, and should be rewarded as well. If you can keep up your grades and maintain a healthy relationship with the community, you more than deserve it. So, I can go ahead and order that extra ticket then?”

Doug smiled widely, and almost even laughed himself. “Sure! Thanks, Uncle Harry.”

“This is awesome!” Stan exclaimed. “Thanks, dad!”

“Not a problem, you two. Like I said, I believe people should always be rewarded for good deeds and keeping a clean head. Remember that now.”




At noon, once the meal was over and Doug and Stan had rested for a couple of hours, the two headed outside and into the shed. Resting just inside, behind the door and beside a pile of old flower pots, was the lawnmower. It was an enormous one, though not a riding lawnmower like most everyone else on the street possessed. Doug would learn later that this was because Harry always cut the grass himself, and he liked the exercise.

“So, is it already primed?” Doug asked.

“Yeah, it should be. At least that’s what my dad told me yesterday. I’ve cut grass a few times when my dad would let me. What about you?”

“I had always cut the grass back home, so I don’t mind if you want me to start first. What are we going to do? You cut one side of the house and I cut the other?”

Stan ruffled through his long, red hair and thought. “I don’t know. That sounds good to me. And while one of us is cutting, I’m sure Mr. Wiese will have whoever is not cutting work on something else. I think I heard him talking to my dad about fixing a part of his privacy fence. We’re just lucky it hasn’t rained yet like it was supposed to, so let’s get doing before it does.”

They walked out into the front yard, rolling the lawnmower along with them, and Stan led them to the house next door on the left. It was a nice looking house with almost three times as many bushes, trees and other plants as the Granger’s yard. Stan explained that Mr. Wiese took great pride in making his yard look as nice as possible.

Stan knocked on the door three times, and it swung open several seconds later. A large man stood in the door, or rather, barely fitting, in the doorway. He was bald except for a few strands of dark gray hair on the sides of his head, and he was wearing a long, blue robe. “Hey there, Stanley! Hear to cut my grass I guess?” the man bellowed in a deep and deafening tone that shook with power. Doug could easily tell he was a retired cop.

“Yep, Mr. Wiese. And this is my cousin, Douglas. But you can call him Doug if you want, just like you can call me Stan if you want.”

“Well howdy, Douglas!” he yelled, completely ignoring Stan’s second remark. “Harold told me much about you, and from what I hear you’re a good boy. Is that so?” Mr. Wiese asked, extending his hand to Doug.

“Yes, sir,” Doug answered, shaking his hand.

“Ah, and polite and a firm grip too. That’s always a good sign, and don’t let no one ever tell you any different. Come on inside. I don’t think I’ll have you cut the grass, because it looks like it’s about to rain, and I would hate for you to have to stop midway. It would make my grass look like compassion. So no hard work today, but I would like you to help me with my damaged fence. So let’s get started.”

The large man turned and started to walk deeper into his house. Stan looked back at Doug and shrugged, and then both of the boys followed.