Ridicula Read online

  Freckles debated chasing the wily weasel anyway but remembered how his past encounters hadn’t gone as planned. He was in the process of plotting his next encounter and did not want to rush anything, especially since he now might have another ally to work with.

  He had seen what the marten had done and thought that only he should be able to scare the cat when he deemed fit. Thus, this once, he entertained the notion of an alliance with a cat. He trotted over to where the cat was still trying to disengage from the hat.

  “Pebbles, haven’t you done the hat enough damage?” asked Harrison, still trying to calm himself, for the hat had meant a lot to him for some reason, though Freckles could not understand why. The hat was large and fitted him like a rug on his head. Perhaps that was the reason. Humans had strange body issues, and Freckles had heard that baldness was a major one. The dog could understand that one. He imagined being without fur and saw himself as a large hairless Khala. On the outside, he only snickered, but internally he laughed uproariously.

  When his thoughts returned to vengeance on the marten, he continued his trot towards the cat. But communicating with Pebbles wasn’t always the easiest. Sure, they understood each other when it came to food, chasing, and sleeping. When both wanted food, they begged for it, although the cat was less direct about it. Pebbles may feign that she was not interested, but when push came to shove, the meowing started. As for chasing, there was an order: Freckles chased Pebbles, and the cat ran. She could chase something smaller than her, but that was of little concern to the dog. As for sleeping, as long as the cat was not in his space, she could sleep where she wanted. Pebbles understood that Freckles’ part of the kitchen was only for him as was his beanbag and blanket. Other communication took more doing, however, for his barks were mostly only noise rather than speech to the ears of humans and cats. Thus, Freckles had to contemplate how he could communicate his plans to the cat about the pine marten.

  “Instead of destroying my hat, why didn’t you go after that rascally weasel?” Harrison asked the cat. “That critter’s eating my blueberries, bothering my pets, and wreaking havoc. We’ve got to do something, don’t we? My trap will work, won’t it?”

  Pebbles did what most cats would do when asked those questions: lick itself. However, Freckles saw understanding in the cat’s eyes, which gave the dog an idea: he could communicate with the cat through the human. But how could he get Harrison to tell the cat the plan?

  What a dilemma!

  Well, Freckles was a smart dog. He could figure this out.

  Naturally, the first thing he tried was to bark. Harrison spun agitatedly toward the dog. Pebbles forgot about the shredded hat and ran away. Obviously, that tactic didn’t work.

  Then he thought to wag his tail playfully. Sure enough, Harrison reacted. “What’cha want, boy? Wanna play fetch?”

  Freckles ran towards the cat, who had just scampered behind some bushes a few meters away. Of course, the old man threw the stick the opposite direction, ruining the dog’s plan to bring the cat and the man together.

  When Freckles did not fetch the stick, Harrison lost interest. So much for that plan.

  The dog had one more idea. He raced off and scratched on the window to be let back into the house. Lana obliged, but instead of going inside, Freckles waited, whimpered while pointing his head toward the old man, and started trotting back over to him.

  “What did he do now?” Lana asked the dog. Freckles kept walking, and she followed. So far so good.

  “What are you doing, Husband?”

  “The cat destroyed my hat, all because of that weasel thing,” Harrison started, obviously perturbed and still a bit frantic. “We got to get that weasel for eating my blueberries and making Pebbles tear my hat.”

  Lana rolled her eyes, a motion the dog saw often when she was talking to her husband. “Yeah, have you figured out how you are going to do that yet?” she asked, obliging him as she usually did.

  “My trap—”

  Freckles didn’t wait for Harrison to continue, for the human’s plan was flawed at best. Instead, the Rottweiler whined for their attention and trotted toward the cat. Lana, the sharper of the two humans, heard him and started toward him with Harrison slowly following—what the old man had planned to say had been forgotten.

  “Did Pebbles do something?” Lana asked.

  “Yes, my hat—” Harrison began, and the cat remained where she was.

  Thus, a conversation of sorts began. Freckles had a long tedious process ahead of him but communication was started. Eventually, however, Freckles, by involving all of them in the communication, would make these dullards understand his plan. He would prance and dance, whine and doggy sign, and move his paw until they understood what they saw.

  After that, Freckles would let the hummingbirds in on the plan, which he was sure would be easier since birds had a better understanding of how to converse animal to animal than a cat or man ever would. Birds and dogs simply understood each other’s movements and gestures while cats ran when a dog came close and men were, well, human.

  But when all was said and done, and the plan was ready for action, then that marten had better watch out!

  Chapter 13

  A Soap Altercation

  To say that Hippie was a man of little means was like saying that Donald Trump is a bullheaded narcissistic billionaire president. In other words, the statement was more than just the truth: it was just the way of it. So, when Carolyn offered him money, he kindly declined. “That’s all right. I don’t need anything much—just some food and drink, the clothes on my back, and an occasional covering over my head.”

  “You stink!” said Carolyn. “You make Maude here smell like sweet petunias.”

  They had been on the road for a few hours, heading east. Carolyn had mostly been quiet, sensing some tension coming from Maude’s aura, but she must have whiffed something not to her tastes that had caused her outburst. Still, Hippie had heard that an oversensitive nose could be associated with mental disorders, especially when the smell was something different or nonexistent. That fitted Carolyn’s mode, because she was definitely not all there. He had been suspicious of that when they met, which only strengthened as he got to know her better.

  Most people might be offended by that comment, including Maude, but Hippie just shrugged. “So, you don’t like the smell of nature even though you mention flowers. So be it.”

  “Maybe something from Nature’s Soap would be fine, but what you smell like is dreadful.” Carolyn pinched her nose and cowered near the window.

  “If you don’t like it, you can get out. I don’t even need to stop the car. We can just open the door and push you right out. I wouldn’t mind hearing some of your bones crunch as you roll down the shoulder of the road,” said Maude, still needing to warm up to Carolyn’s nutty charms. Not everyone was as easygoing as Hippie.

  “Now, now, there’s no need for that,” he said to Maude. “If you don’t like the odor of the plants I use for deodorant, we can stop off for some of that Nature’s Soap you just talked about. I’m not one to take money, but suitable gifts are always welcome.”

  “Are you sure that we shouldn’t just toss her out? We can get rid of her at the Humboldt Wildlife Park and dump her in the wetlands. The rangers probably wouldn’t find her for weeks, and the coots could have at her,” said Maude. Hippie thought that she might be serious.

  “Nah,” and Maude took his demur to heart. Most of the time people tended to abide by what he wanted. He thought that perhaps it was his Jesus persona that influenced them, like it did Bearman, even though he certainly was not the religious icon.

  “Well, then we better get that soap then, or this suit won’t stop gabbing about it.”

  “A souvenir shop at Humboldt should have something,” Carolyn declared, seemingly unruffled by Maude’s comments.

  “Wouldn’t a convenience store or something be easier?” Maude asked.

  “You see one around here?” retorted Carolyn. Route 80
went on and on without an exit in sight.

  “Don’t worry. I know the lay of the land. I’ll find one. Just brace yourself.” At 80 MPH, Maude pulled off the highway and onto the shoulder where a bent railing awaited. The truck slightly caromed off it but mostly plowed through it and into a ditch, where the tires bounced on like a kickball. Beyond lay open land with dirt and occasional hovels rather than road and plaster.

  “What the—” began Carolyn but a bump made her grab her seatbelt for safety rather than finish her expletive.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun,” Hippie announced, meaning it.

  The truck bounced and rattled like a snake on a trampoline as Maude maneuvered around trees and over dirt, rocks, and hills. This close to Humboldt, the terrain was not as deserted as other areas of Nevada, making the ride like a bumper car on a roller coaster. Hippie moved with every turn and bounced like a horseback rider with every bump. He lived for the adventure and danger. He almost drifted into Sporting Aspen mode with the adrenaline but loved the nature around him too much to convert, for Hippie was just being his true self.

  Carolyn, on the other hand, looked as if much of her innards were about to release from her. Her face shone a bright red and her eyes went wide with her mouth open. Her hair flew in every direction, but her arms were still, for the air conditioning and her own fear provided the only wind in the truck’s cabin. But to her credit, she never did puke onto her fancy suit.

  The ride was over all too quickly for Hippie when the truck smacked its way onto a little-used road miles from the Humboldt National Forest. Directly ahead of them a few buildings could be seen, one being a conveniece store and gas station. “Told you I’d find a place that has some soap for sale,” said Maude with proud satisfaction.

  Her face beginning to lose its reddish hue, Carolyn found her voice. “Haven’t got the soap yet.”

  They arrived at the store, and all exited the truck in search of the soap. The women entered the store, but Hippie lagged behind. He just had a hunch that he should wait for them outside. Shortly afterward, a pickup truck came roaring up to a halt right beside him.

  Hippie couldn’t believe who the driver was: Bearman. What a coincidence!

  This time, Bearman was alone. The two men that Maude had pummeled was not with him. Hippie wished those boys good health. That’s the kind of guy he was.

  “Jesus, you’ve returned,” Bearman announced, immediately recognizing him.

  “Come here to pick up soap.” Hippie had decided not to correct him. There was no use trying.

  “I haven’t washed in days,” said the hairy Jesus disciple. “I will heed your advice and lather up at the next truck stop.” The image of Bearman in a shower disturbed Hippie, but he did not show it, for Jesus would not have such scorn. After all, all men were created in his image. Thus, they all showered beautifully, bare-skinned and hairy and all.

  “Is there anything you need of me?” Bearman asked.

  “Clean and be well is all I ask,” Hippie replied.

  Bearman bowed. Guess that’s what he thought would be the best thing to do. Perhaps he thought Jesus was also an emperor.

  “You’ll never believe this,” Carolyn said, coming out of the store. “They actually have the soap, Nature’s Best.”

  Hippie smiled and waved his hand like a magic wand as he said, “Your wish is my command.”

  Bearman raised his head from his bow and immediately saw Carolyn. Hippie noticed him look at her a little too long, a glint apparent in his eyes, all of his features frozen as if time had stopped for him. Had Hippie just witnessed “Love at First Sight” or just two people akin to crazy?

  “Are you my goddess?” Bearman asked her. His sudden conversion to paganism aside, he was certainly immediately enthralled with her, for that question could not be just a stupid pickup line.

  Weirdly enough, Carolyn seemed to enjoy this man’s candor. “I may be.”

  Bearman smiled. “Well, Jim is at your service forever, lovely creature! I will protect you.” Jim took something from his jacket, or perhaps just from his chest of hair. It was a gun, but unlike last time, Hippie could tell immediately that it was a toy gun. Earlier, he had not seen the red spots painted on what was obviously plastic if seen from up close. Jim squirted water into the air to show mock protection of Carolyn.

  Unlike the bumpy truck ride, this talk was making Hippie’s innards rumble in disgust. He was not one for corny sentimentalism. His sentiment was always real.

  “Oh, Jim, I may have other use for you yet,” Carolyn said, implying something other than protection.

  Hippie did not like this kind of talk either, and said so: “He may be a bear of a man and a bit whacko, but he is not your toy no matter how beautiful he thinks you are.”

  “Oh, I was only joking. I will not mistreat him, you Jesus clone!” She must have heard the earlier conversation. “I have more important people to mistreat anyway!”

  Jim or Bearman (Hippie still preferred the latter) was not listening to the conversation. He kept on watching Carolyn—so enamored was he that he did not want to lose sight of her for one moment. Finally he blinked, which broke his trance, at least enough for him to talk again. “I dreamed of a goddess to set foot in front of me, dressed in a suit with brunette bun hair and a petite nose. But little did I know that you’d be blessed by Jesus himself, too.” So he had taken Hippie’s fake magic wand motion as a blessing. That figured.

  Maude exited the store by somehow slamming the door open, for the door hit the wall in back of it like a drunk swinging open a beer-loaded refrigerator. “You were supposed to buy this, girl. You owe me,” she said, waving a box of Nature’s Best soap at Carolyn.

  Unabashed by Maude although he recognized her, apparent by the way his eyes twitched, Bearman walked right up to her, grabbed the box of soap, and replaced it with a twenty. “Thank you. I’ll be needing this soap at the truck stop.”

  Maude’s mouth dropped. She had been anticipating a sarcastic reaction from Carolyn, not a thank-you from an overly hairy man. Silent for once, she walked right back into the store to buy another box of soap with the twenty.

  Meanwhile, Bearman addressed Carolyn again. “Stay here, my beauty, and I will return for you. I will be cleanly washed and ready to court you.” And just like that, he entered his truck and drove off.

  “Umm, we won’t be waiting for him,” Carolyn announced, clearly not enticed by anything Bearman might offer. “When Maude returns, we go.”

  “But don’t you find him cute?” Hippie teased. “And anyway, didn’t you say that you had use for him? I’m sure he’d be obliging.” He added a lewd tongue gesture for effect.

  Carolyn giggled. “Oh, forget that. Let’s just go.”

  They waited for Maude, but when she didn’t come outside for several minutes, Carolyn became restless and charged into the store. Hippie shook his head but followed, knowing that whatever came next might get ugly if he didn’t stop the incident from happening.

  “You take that long to get soap?” Hippie heard Carolyn yell.

  “What is it to you? You should be paying anyway. Not your boyfriend, Jim.” Maude’s voice was surprisingly calm, but Hippie knew that might not last.

  “Give it here,” Carolyn countered, seeing that Maude had the soap.

  “Not till you pay your share, and I’m not talking about the soap.”

  “I have money in your truck, I think. Or did I leave it in my car?” Even to Hippie, Carolyn seemed unconcerned about where her money was.

  “Oh, you’re not gonna try that, girl.” Maude’s voice was rising, and crude talk would follow.

  Hippie decided to intercede. “Now, ladies,” he began.

  Carolyn turned to him with a nasty gaze. “Oh, shut up! Why aren’t you paying?”

  “Wait a second, didn’t Bearman or Jim or whatever his name is already pay with that twenty?”

  “Yeah, for the first box of soap,” Maude chimed in.

  “How much does this stuff cost?�
��

  “Oh, plenty. It’s Nature’s Best.” This wasn’t like Maude. Hippie hadn’t had to pay for much of anything so far for this trip. That was a good thing, because all he had was a dollar thirty-three worth of change in his pants.

  But the questions remained: why did Maude want money now? Why did she suddenly need Carolyn to pay her way?

  “If neither you nor Hippie have the money, then I guess I’ll take the soap and my truck and be off without you.” Hippie didn’t immediately know who Maude was addressing until she asked him, “Aspen, are you coming?”

  Before he could answer, Carolyn ran past him and out of the store.

  “Good riddance,” said an almost elated Maude. Hippie could now be somewhat certain that this wasn’t about money, not that he thought about attaining money much.

  “Don’t count your blessings. Your truck door is open.” They watched as Carolyn jumped into the passenger’s seat.”

  “Oh, no, she fuckin’ don’t,” Maude said in a way unbecoming even for her.

  “Now, we can work this out,” Hippie interjected.

  But Maude stomped over to her truck anyway. “You ready to be twisted into a bitch pretzel?” she screamed at Carolyn.

  This was not good. Not good at all.

  Carolyn shut the truck door and locked it from the inside. Of course, this didn’t stop Maude, who had a key, but it did give Hippie enough time to run over and shove his body between Maude and the door. “Stop right now!” he yelled as loudly as he thought he should, which was hardly loud at all because of his pacifist manner.

  “She’s got something coming to her, this one.” Maude spoke loudly, but her voice didn’t come across as a scream. She simply pushed him out of the way and fumbled for her keys.

  “Just pay for some gas, Carolyn,” Hippie said just loud enough for her to hear.

  “No, I won’t. There’s too much gas here anyway, because you both stink. And she don’t need it or deserve it.” Hippie had to give it to her. Carolyn was holding her ground even in the face of being contorted into a pretzel.