Wha Ha?

Thankfully it wasn't too dark outside. The moon was full enough to reflect light down upon us. Light bled from the house to illuminate a zone around the building. I moved quickly but quietly, checking the shadows, moving towards the back of the cabin.

Once I got near the back, I slowed, not wanting to burst in on the possible zombie horde. I could hear murmuring from the back room and the occasional tap on the door. Good guys. Good help.

Slowly, carefully, I leaned around the side of the building to locate the creature.

I saw nothing.

I paused from confusion. How did that happen? Slowly I moved around the side of the building, searching for the zombie that we'd all seen. Nothing.

Cautiously I searched the 'backyard' area. Nothing. I approached the garage. The door was still locked as we had left it. I circled the building but found no trace of an exit.

We saw the creature at the back door. We heard the creature at the back door. So where did it go?

Quietly, confused, I returned to the cabin via the back door. Distracted as I was, I never thought twice about entering the cabin, but should have as I walked in and was immediately assaulted about the head and neck. Once I protested, the assault ceased. Dave managed to look more sheepish than Jeff. “Sorry.”

“I appreciate you looking to see who you were attacking before attacking,” I grumbled. “Golf clubs?”

“They were handy,” Dave noted.

Ouch.

A Plan

Do you ever have those moments where your normal is not the normal of the people around you? You say something you consider no big deal and other people get very excited or laugh or freak out in response. Or even the people around you say something and you're suddenly reminded that everyone doesn't think exactly like you do. It's not generally a bad thing. Most of the time its a good thing because you can learn something from the experience.

I made my declaration rather matter-of-factly. There appeared to be a zombie outside and I reported that to the group. I didn't want to make it sound like “Oh it's Thursday so here come the zombies” but I have seen enough strange things where one zombie appearing is not all that earth shattering, especially when I anticipated the possibility.

Now, the rest of my group must not have my experience in such like things. There was some confusion. There was some disbelief. There was a lot of panic. The confusion and disbelief could easily be dealt with by displaying the creature on the other side of the door. The panic was not so easy to dispel.

“But, but, but... that's impossible,” Dave sputtered.

“Improbable at least,” Jeff revised.

I just gave them a look. “Don't make me mis-quote Shakespeare. If its just this one, we should be okay.”

“But a zombie?” Dave checked. “That's not a problem?”

“A zombie,” I repeated, emphasizing the 'a' in my statement. “Not so much. If it was a zombie bear, that might be a problem. I'd rather face a dozen zombies than any vampires.”

“Vampires don't exist,” Dave informed me.

“Hey, some of my best friends are vampires,” I retorted.

“Very funny,” Dave responded.

Jeff considered this for a moment. “I don't think he's kidding.”

“And I'm not. Reinsert Shakespeare mis-quote here.” I'd located a shovel amongst the junk in the back closet. “This should do. Keep its attention here so I can sneak up on it.” To the 'how?' question I received, I answered “Tap on the door window occasionally to keep its attention here while I sneak around the cabin behind it.” Before I could receive any further protests or questions, I headed for the front door and outside.

What was that?

Things quieted down at that point. There was discussion about having a search for the bear or for evidence of a bear but it was dismissed as it was getting dark and we didn't know what we'd do if we found a bear. We tried to call the police to report what happened but the cabin phone didn't work and we couldn't get a signal on our mobile devices. We decided to run into town in the morning and report in person. It would keep until then.

Have you ever been without your communication technology recently? For that matter, have you been deprived of any technology recently? Its one thing to have to avoid meddling with your mobcomm for an hour during a meeting, its another thing entirely to have your computer break and be without it for a day or two. Or have your television break? You feel lost. Confused. It totally disrupts your schedule. You never realize how accustomed you become to certain things until they're gone. Suddenly, you can't double check any information because you can't get to the interwebs. If you're playing a game and lose your connection to it, the withdrawal can quickly become very painful.

This was the position we were in. Being unable to communicate our need for assistance was quite irritating, frustrating even. Logically, there was nothing else we could do but that didn't stop us from feeling the need to do something about it. At least the satellite television was functioning properly. That helped take my mind off of what had happened.

I don't mean to sound insensitive but I didn't really know the fella. Prior to today, I may have met him once or twice in passing. Now that he'd passed, my opinion of him didn't really change because I didn't really know him. Unfortunately I'd been in the presence of violent death before. While I felt bad about the situation, I was able to move on rather quickly. As the 'kids' both knew him well and were not so used to this sort of thing happening, they were more shook up. While they sat in the big room discussing this occurrence and the life lost, I stayed out of their way by watching television.

I'm not sure if it was the best idea under the circumstances. My belief that staying out of other people's way is helpful is sometimes interpreted as not wanting to help. It's not a lack of interest, just ability. I saw no good way to actively make things better so I got out of the way. Am I protesting too much? Probably. I sat there watching some sitcom that was so predictable it was irritating and tried to not think about the way Tim's face had been shredded.

There was a knock on the door.

It was a faint, soft sound that made me turn but was clearly my imagination. I returned my attention to commercials for products I neither needed nor wanted.

There was a knock on the door.

This time it was louder, more distinct, less of a knocking and more of a pounding. That didn't bode well. I spun in the chair and worked to peek out the window in order to see who might be at the door. I had a bad angle on the situation and couldn't see.

There was a pounding on the door.

I bounded from the chair, filled with the electric feeling that I was about to do something incredibly stupid. Even with this awareness, I still approached the door, I just did so with some caution. Carefully I moved the curtain covering the window in the door as little as possible but as much as I needed in order to see out. There stood Tim, well, slouched Tim, strips of meat dangling from his damaged face. He did not look well.

I backed away from the door and found that the pounding had attracted the attention of others as I bumped into Dave. After a quick apology, Dave asked what was going on.

“I think we have a zombie on our hands,” I explained.

Discussing ... uh, Plants

We were still pondering this as we returned to the cabin. “No tracks either,” Jeff muttered aloud.

“The ground is pretty dry,” I observed. “Not great for capturing prints.”

“You'd still think there'd be something left behind,” insisted Jeff. “A track, some hair, something.”

“Like a big steaming pile of bear business,” Dave offered.

“Yes, like that.”

“Yet, we have none of that,” I observed. “Just a damaged face and a weird smell.”

“You noticed that as well?” Jeff checked. “ I thought I was imagining it. Or that it was some of the nearby weeds.”

Dave coughed loudly. “It probably was weed,” he muttered. “Tim was a bit of a pothead. I'm pretty sure that's why they were outside; so he could smoke up.”

I shook my head. “That wasn't it.”

“I know he was a pothead,” Dave insisted. “I wasn't happy about it but that's not why we were friends or anything.”

I worked to dismiss his concerns. “No worries, didn't mean to imply that if I did. I'm just trying to say that smell wasn't weed.” Dave gave me a curious look so I added “I've been to concerts before Dave; I am familiar with that smell. And like you had the first pothead friend.” After a moment's consideration, I continued again. “Mike was a friend of a friend but I think that still counts.”

“American potheads are so sad,” Jeff declared. “I tried marijuana last year when I was in Amsterdam. Didn't care for it. Too much spit.”

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. I considered this for a moment before responding. “So you'd know what it smells like then.”

“I know what good marijuana smells like,” Jeff stated. “That didn't smell like good marijuana. Bad marijuana maybe, mixed with something.”

“Yes. Quite.”

Figuring Things Out (Not)

Thankfully there was a sizable garage to go along with the 'cabin'. While I'm not extremely squeamish, I hadn't wanted the body inside the house with us. I've seen too many weird things in the past to want a corpse that nearby. I've seen the dead walk before. There, I said it. No one ever believes me and it was the strangest of strange occurrences but it happened and I was there. If this fella got up and started wandering, we might have a chance of noticing before he was upon us.

Jeff had accompanied us in an effort to gather information regarding the situation. “Okay, see this makes no sense for a start. See these claw marks?” I wish I could say I didn't but that wasn't the case. “The pattern is all wrong. It looks like the bear was over him, taller than him, but the claws are too close together. The bear's paw should be much larger, two or three times larger than the human hand. This looks like it could have been my hand.” He spread his hand out to demonstrate his point.

“Ah ha!” I declared. “So you did it. Where's your bear costume?”

Jeff gave him a Hard Stare. “I didn't do this; don't be stupid.”

“Clearly I was not being serious,” I noted. “Just a little joke.”

“Very little,” Jeff responded. “Not funny.”

“Pity, we could use a laugh right now. Keep us from crying. Still,” I continued, “your's is a good point. We have an eyewitness, who's evidence might be considered suspect considering her current condition, pointing to a bear. We have the evidence of the damage before us that points to an inhuman attack and yet it doesn't quite match up with the concept of the bear attack. Where does that leave us?”

“Confused,” Dave answered.

“Yes, I'd agree with that,” I responded.

Bear Talk

Janet was in the kitchen, sitting before the table, a blanket wrapped around her. Her expression was blank, directed at the glass of water between her hands without seeming to see it. We needed information from her, but she wasn't in much of a position to provide it. Tina and Karen, Chris's girlfriend, both gently sought to get her to open up but she remained silent, staring through the water.

While we waited, we had nothing else to do but speculate. “Oh it couldn't have been a bear,” insisted Jeff.

“Why not?” Dave questioned. “It looked like he took a claw to the face.”

Jeff was very insistent on this matter. “Because there are literally no bears for miles. Bears don't spend time in this part of the state.”

“There was that bear that they had to tranquilize out of a tree in Milwaukee a couple years ago,” I noted. “From that I'd think bears might come this way sometimes.”

My point excited Jeff. “One time. One time in decades we get a bear in the city, one time gets lost and that's all it takes?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I'm just saying it happened once. I'm not saying we're on the bear highway to Milwaukee or anything.”

“It happened once,” Dave reasoned, “it could happen again.”

Jeff gave him a 'you're an idiot look'. “Do you know what the odds are of that happening here?”

“Probably a billion to one. Or more!” Dave had gotten a bit wide-eyed and excited. I'd not really seen him get like this before. I found it interesting. “I'm sure you'll know whatever big number it is.”

“I do,” Jeff reassured. “And it is a big number. “

“You know, that's good, that's an excellent piece of information to have,” Dave noted. “None of it helps Tim. Does it matter if it's 'impossible' for it to be a bear or not? I'm not saying its probably that it was a bear, but it's not impossible.”

“It's improbable,” Jeff stated. “Highly unlikely.”

“But not impossible,” Dave pushed.

“I never said it was impossible,” Jeff clarified. “Just improbable enough to be impossible. It just can't have been a bear.”

“It was a bear.” Janet's voice wavered and shook. She was barely audible compared to the raised voices we'd just heard. As quiet as she was, her words cut through the room. “I saw it; it was a bear. A bear that killed Tim.” She repeated this once or twice more before busting into tears. Already at her side, Tina and Karen swarmed to comfort her.

Dave found a way to look concerned and smug at the same time. “There. Eyewitness says bear.” Jeff again protested the unlikelihood of this occurrence but that did nothing to change the evidence we currently had before us.

With that settled, Dave turned to me. I'd said I'd help move the corpse if it wasn't a crime scene and it looked like random misadventure. Bother. I had sort of hoped I wouldn't have to pay off on that. Still, a promise was a promise.

Not Good

While I may be good at telling a real scream from a pretend scream, I'm not good at identifying the source of the scream. The woods out the back of the cabin were thick were trees and shrubbery. It was possible to see through them to some degree so I wasn't losing track of my fellow searchers but there were too many hiding spots. With the screaming now ceased, I had no good way to tell where I should be headed. I was trying to hurry but I didn't know to where I was hurrying.

Suddenly I heard Dave loudly call upon a deity. I located him, saw the look of shock and surprise on his face, and rapidly headed in his directions. I was the first to join him. I immediately regretted it.

Tim lay limply against a tree, the side of his face caved in and slashed. He looked very dead. Blood dripped, bone and gristle exposed to the air. It was a gruesome sight. In an unexpected manner, I had failed as chaperone.

His lady friend, Janet the cute girl that had apologized to me for him, was backed up against another tree facing him, wide eyed and trembling, clearly in shock. When Tina arrived on the scene, I did my best to steer her away from the body and towards the young lady, directly that she be taken inside. Tina's curiosity was strong enough that she fought for a glimpse of the body. The verbiage that spilled from her mouth wasn't pretty but neither was the sight before her.

Dave's shock had faded. Carefully, sadly, he checked for a pulse. The young man looked very dead to me but Dave knew him. Perhaps he felt that this could be a trick or maybe just needed to convince himself of the reality of the situation. Once Dave stepped away from him, I touched him lightly on the shoulder. “Is there a tarp or blanket we could use to cover him up?”

Dave nodded slowly. “We should take him inside. I don't want to let the critters get to him.”

I hesitated. “We shouldn't disturb him yet. This might be a crime scene. Let's get some more information before we do that.”

“Crime scene?” Dave echoed. “That's the work of an animal.”

“It might just look like an animal,” I informed. “We have someone who likely saw it happen. If she says it was an animal, I'll help you move him. Okay?” Dave thought about it but eventually nodded. I steered him away from the sight, moving him back towards the cabin.

Relationships is a Funny Word

“Sounds like a real winner,” Tina declared.

“He wasn't always like that,” I defended. “Most of the time he was a lot of fun. Very clever.”

“How bad was he when he was bad?” she questioned.

I looked at her blankly. “I just told you what he did to my car. That wasn't enough?”

She gave me a frustrated look. “Right but was he always like that when he was bad or was that something special?”

I hummed and hawwed a bit. “He would do some weird things but, at the same time, this was special.”

“Okay.” She relaxed a bit. “Cause it was starting to sound abusive. If he'd been your girlfriend, I'd say you should dump her.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend like that?” I asked.

Tina shook her head no. “I've had... friends that had bad relationships and its hard, hard to see them when they're in them and hard to get them to end them.”

“Because you're not in the relationship you don't understand,” I added.

“Yes! Exactly!” she agreed. “And they are exactly right, we don't know the situation. Like your story, your mom giving you the advice but she didn't understand right? That one moment wasn't going to break up your friendship. It could have, maybe it should have, but it didn't.”

“You still see him?” Dave asked. I nodded. “Good times? Just sitting around reminiscing about old times, huh?”

I thought back on my last conversation with Eric and the circumstances surrounding it. “Talk about old times, yes. Fondly? No, not really. He's... insane.”

“So you're not friends anymore?” Tina checked. I confirmed this was the case. “Good! At least he's not dragging you down.”

“He tries, he just doesn't succeed.”

Our conversation stopped suddenly with the sound of a scream. I've been around trouble enough to recognize a serious scream when I hear it. For that first moment we froze, as if we were trying to believe what we were hearing. When we saw the look on each other's faces, we knew we weren't imagining it.

I was the first one out the door.

Tarred and Feathered

Humor is a difficult thing to explain. What makes me roll on the floor overwhelmed with laughter may do nothing for the next person. They may understand the joke, they may even grasp why the joke should be funny, but it may not amuse them. Some jokes are subtle. Some jokes are so old that they may cause us to groan due to familiarity. Some jokes try to be funny but may only amuse the teller.

This story is about one of those jokes, funny only to the teller.

I don't gamble, not seriously anyway. If we like rival sports teams that are playing each other and we put paying for pizza on the line based on the outcome of the game, that's a friendly sort of thing rather than gambling. A dollar or two on a raffle for charity isn't gambling, not to me anyway. It can be a thin line between a gentlemanly wager and betting so if you disagree with my definition and consider this gambling as well, I can understand.

Eric, my friend at the time, was caught by the poker trend. The math that was involved captured the imagination of his intellect and he soon began organizing games. I went to a couple, found that Eric was taking it Very Seriously, and wanted to play for ever increasing stakes. I soon bowed out of playing. It wasn't fun for me. After I showed up to one such party stating my disinterest in playing, just wanting to hang out with the guys. I was dismissed. Taking the hint, I stopped showing up.

Rather than accept this, Eric became irritated at my lack of desire to join with them. He was of the opinion that my disinterest in playing was due to my lack of skill. I had lost money during the games I'd played in and, in his mind, I was too chicken to try to win it back. He believed my lack of enjoyment had come from losing, not from the Very Serious Way that they'd played. There may have been some truth in his opinion but it wasn't my primary motivation in stepping aside.

Had this remained a polite disagreement it would have been no big deal. Eric would not let it go. He continued to verbally harass me about my not playing, both in private and in public. Every time I saw him there would be a moment of abuse that he would attempt to play off as being humorous.

I began avoiding him. It was just easier. I'd seen his obsessions burn brightly before they burned out in the past so it was safe to believe that in a week or two he'd become bored with the whole thing and return to 'normal'. It was just a matter of waiting this out. When he no longer saw me, he'd send message through mutual friends.

Rather quickly, that was no longer enough. While I could avoid Eric with some ease, my car was left in public for long periods of time. I left work one evening to find my car coated with molasses and feathers. Did I mention that my car had been while before this? It had been.

I had no choice but to quickly drive it home, they had been 'kind' enough to not cover the windows, and began the process of cleaning the goo off. My Dad lent me a hand and we took care of the bulk of it. The car was then oddly stained, giving it a vaguely cow-like pattern. While we cleaned, my Mom gave me a speech about what friends do and do not do.

She wasn't telling me anything I wasn't already thinking. I didn't 'break up' with him then. His poke obsession faded, as I expected, and I tried to let it go but soon came the Heather freak-out and he became my enemy. His words.

Strange man.

Could Be Worse

When I saw Dave again, he was apologetic. “He told me to ask you, I thought he was kidding. I wouldn't ask you to get into trouble for me.”

This made me smile. Tim's simple-minded grumpiness was still under my skin. Dave's response reminded me, finally, why I had agreed to do this: I like Dave. He's a nice guy and a good worker. When he asked me to help him, putting the responsibility of making this happen on me, I wanted to help him out because he's nice. “Dave, its okay. I've had friends like him before. And worse for that matter.” I considered this for a moment. “Has he ever tarred and feathered your car?”

Dave laughed, probably instinctively.”No.” I tapped myself on the chest. “No, really.” I nodded. “By your friend? That's a pretty wild prank.”

“I thought so too. It was a pain to clean off.”

Tina was poured over a chair near the kitchen table. “That actually sounds like a pretty [unpleasant] thing to do. He thought that was funny?”

“He didn't think I would find it funny,” I tried to explain. “He thought other people would find it funny.”

“How?” she paused. “How would that be funny?”

I tried to explain.

Making Friends

“So where's the booze, man?”

My response to this long haired young man was quizzical and he was intelligent enough to recognize this meant confusion on my part. He repeated his question but it did not improve my comprehension. This time around, Dave heard him ask and he coughed quietly. “I, uh, didn't ask him, Tim.”

This news was not enough to stir Tim from sprawling over a chair near the kitchen table. “Dude, weak. I thought you said he was cool man.”

“He is cool,” Dave insisted. “He's not that cool.” He took a moment to look at me.”Sorry.” Returning to Tim, he noted “If he was that kind of cool, my Dad would never have agreed to give him the keys.”

“He can't pretend?” Tim questioned.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe I didn't want to pretend.”

“Dude, whatever.” Tim dismissed my input. “Not talking to you, Mr. Disappointment.” He nodded his head towards Dave. “I'm talking to this disappointment here.”

I was quickly confused. “But you're talking about me.” Tim dismissed me with a wave. For a moment, the anger took me but I released it as I exhaled. “Whatever.” There was no point in arguing with him. I had nothing to gain and everything to lose. “Whatever.” Having declared that, I went outside.

It was warm outside. Okay, warm was a poor choice of words. It was muggy and hot, politely uncomfortable even this close to the lake. I didn't like thinking of this as hot because it could, and would, get hotter this summer. It was only in the eighties. If I thought of this as unbearable, how uncomfortable would I be when it reached the nineties?

Why did I agree to this again? To sleeping on a couch, to being grouched at by teenagers, to driving to the middle of nowhere? In this place I can barely get a signal on my mobcomm. The television reception can't be very good. They must have a satellite to get anything. I was stuck babysitting a bunch of ungrateful teenagers. What a way to spend a weekend. Am I ever a chump.

“Hi.”

As distracted as I was by my thoughts, the sudden voice caught me off guard and I jumped, no doubt looking like an idiot. It was one of the young ladies from the group, standing in the doorway, looking especially bashful now that she's surprised me. She quickly apologized for that and identified herself as Janet, Tim's girlfriend. “He didn't really mean anything by what he said to you; it's just his way. He can come across a little difficult to people who don't know him,” she explained.

“Difficult is one way to describe him,” I grumbled.

“He's really not a bad guy,” she insisted. “Once you get used to him, he's very nice.”

“You know him better than me,” I reasoned. “I'm not particularly offended or anything if that's what you're looking for.”

She smiled in a way that read 'sorta' to me but the effect was ruined by Tim's appearance. As he walked through, he grabbed her by the hand, dragging her with him. “C'mon. I need some fresh air now that I've been disappointed.” He timed it so that he was looking in my face when he said 'disappointed'. How subtle. And I'd just been thinking how clever he'd been in sending out his sweet, innocent looking girlfriend to talk nice to me about him.

I'm starting to think it wasn't his idea for her to talk to me. She must love him. Or she's stuck with him for some reason.

Arrived

“Where have you been?”

It had been a long drive and I wasn't in the mood for bitchiness, even from someone I just met and was trying to stay nice to until I knew if she was always like this or not. “I wasn't that far behind.” Not being familiar with the driveway, I'd slowed down during the curves. This brief delay was too much for her to bear. “Well hurry up!” she demanded. Rather than argue with her by pointing out that she was impeding my path and how the door might already be open if she had just let me be, I remained quiet. She continued to gripe about how slow I was and how old I was and how I shouldn't be along and assorted other things as I walked to the door. She did all this from a pace behind me. This was a wonderful experience. When I'd finally unlocked the door, I held it open for her. She gave me a Look and dashed inside, her arms folded in defiance as she stomped away.

Dave's buddy Chris, her boyfriend, approached as I fought to not return her Look with a Look. “She, ah, had to go to the bathroom. She's not always like that.”

My face softened. This was understandable. “For your sake, I hope not.” I gave him a grin and we set about getting ourselves and out stuff inside.

The word 'cabin' seems to mean different things to different people. I hear 'cabin' and I think 'log cabin' I guess. I picture something the pioneers might have lived in on the frontier: something small but functional, nothing particularly fancy or stylish. Other people evidently use the word 'cabin' to differentiate between the house they live in on a day-to-day basis and the house they have up north. It was no mansion but it was no shack either. When I'd seen the size of the group when we met up, I was concerned that there wouldn't be room for all of us. Seeing the building removed those concerns.

That said, I had no expectations that there would be a bed for me. I hoped for a couch that wasn't too battered and broken. Having collected my bag, I went inside and found Dave leaning over an aisle in the kitchen, laughing. I waited until the humorous wave faded and I had his attention. Gesturing to my bag, I asked “Where can I stow this?”

“Well, ah, we have room but we don't have rooms,” he stated apologetically.

I cut him off with a wave before he could get too deep into this. “That I understand. No worries. Do I have a spot that's going to be mine or are we just crashing where we fall?”

“I was, uh, thinking this might be okay.” Dave directed me into the next room, a den of sorts with a couple of chairs, a few books and things on shelves, a television, and a couch. It was a room that didn't look like it had been used much and the items in it looked rather new. “I wanted to have you in a room cause that just seemed right but it was just easier to split us up this way.”

I sat on the couch. It was sturdy and firm. “This'll be fine Dave. I've slept on plenty worse than this. Am I in here by myself or is someone grabbing a chair or...?”

“Should be by yourself,” was his response.

I grinned. “Just wanted to know what to expect. Cool. This should be fine Dave.”

He relaxed a bit. “Okay, cool. I was just worried, cause, well, I didn't want you to feel like I was disrespecting you or anything.”

“I'm still your boss but I'm not your boss at the moment.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Yeah. I'll try to mostly stay out of way this weekend,” I reassured. “Not that I'm not fun but I'm sure you don't want me around constantly.”

He laughed nervously. “You know you're welcome to be around us. My dad wants you to be around us some but, uh, yeah, that would be nice too.” Quickly he added “Not that you're not cool or anything like that.”

“Clearly,” I noted.

Very Serious Time

I am at a weird age, being older than my interns where they can pretend to respect me yet younger than their parents so that I don't seem like one of them. I often forget that I am older than the interns because, mentally, I'm not. At least I don't think I am. Well, I don't feel that I am. I'm almost responsible in an accidental sort of way.

Dave's dad was giving me a look over that worked to read all this information from me. He was a serious looking man that appeared to have a background in the military based on his haircut and decorations. “You don't look old enough to be running a department at a school,” he grumbled in his deep voice.

“I'm nearly thirty sir.”

“That's what I'm saying,” he thundered. “Got no experience, just some piece of paper that says you know what you're doing. You're just cheap labor to them, taking the place of a skilled, tested man.”

I wasn't sure if this was meant to be a personal attack or just a general grumbling against youth. His uninformed attack irked me but I fought the urge to snap back. “Did you know Mr. Kirby?” I asked excitedly. He grunted in confusion. “You know, the gentleman that ran the IT department before me.” This did little to resolve his confusion. “I'm sorry. I thought you might have known Mr. Kirby too. I like swapping stories about him. He taught me much of what I know, groomed me to take over for him.”

“You mean they cut him loose as soon as you were trained,” he incorrectly translated.

“No, no I don't believe so,” I responded. “He was at retirement age. I heard the Dean ask him to stay but he turned it down. It was right when they passed all that anti-smoking legislation and Mr. Kirby said if he couldn't have a cigar at his desk then it was time to leave his desk.”

“That!” he exploded. “Don't get me started on that!”

Now he was really making me nervous. Why was I doing this again? “Then I won't.”

Thankfully no rant was forthcoming. He just paced a little bit before he gave me another Look. “Little old to be hanging out with these kids arentcha? Suppose you got an eye for one of these little girls huh?”

“I have a girlfriend,” I informed. Why does no one think I might have a girlfriend?

“Oh! So you're looking for a trip. You'll be too busy working the bedsprings to supervise the kids!”

Patiently I noted “She's out of town that weekend. It's the only reason I agreed to go.”

“Whatsamatter? My kid's not good enough to you?” he demanded.

I was done. “Sir, if you don't want to trust me with the keys to your cabin, that's fine. I don't mind. Just let me know so we're not wasting our time pretending it's a possibility.”

For a long moment he stared at me. “Those kids bug you all day, don't they?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Dunno about bug. They keep me busy and I try to keep them busy so they don't keep me too busy.”

He nodded. “I had to test you. Dave's not a bad kid but he'd young so, despite what he thinks about himself, he's still an idiot. In a few years he'll realized that.”

“I realize that about myself,” I agreed.

“Good. I just don't want him to regret too much when he gets to that age, ya unnerstand?” I nodded. “Good.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “Despite what he thinks, I do want him to enjoy himself. Just not too much because then he might not enjoy himself.”

I grinned. “I unnerstand.”

“And if he enjoys himself too much on my property then he definitely won't enjoy himself.” With a Serious Stare, he handed me the keys.

Do What Now?

“Hey, can I ask a favor?”

I looked up slowly from my papers, staring at Dave as if over glasses I was not wearing. I hoped I looked Rather Serious as I had no clue where this question would lead us. “You can ask,” I slowly replied, emphasizing the word 'ask'.

Apparently the Look had the effect I desired as Dave immediately became more visibly nervous, shuffling his feet and toying with a stray pencil in the mess on my dash. “Well, ya see, remember that day off I got scheduled for next Friday?” I nodded slowly, still wondering where this was headed. “Yeah, well, we're going camping that weekend, me and some of my friends, and, well, I kinda need your help.”

I was still confused. I don't camp. It doesn't appeal to me. Long ago I had a friend talk me into it after months of explaining how awesome it was. I went on a long hike where I saw nothing but trees and got eaten by mosquitoes. The campfire idea sounded fun but it rained that night as well as the bulk of the next day. While I'm sure that every camping trip isn't like that, the experience was miserable enough for me to lose any remaining interest in camping. Without resorting to this level of detail, I briefly explained my lack of qualification, as well as lack of interest in sitting in a field.

Dave quickly explained further. “My folks have a cabin up north that we're going to. My dad was going to go with us but now he has to work. He won't let us go without a responsible adult to supervise.”

Two questions came quickly to mind. Why do you need a chaperone? I'm a responsible adult? I remained confused for a moment until possible reasons began to occur to me. “Does he need someone to guard his liquor cabinet?”

“Mostly I think. He won't give me the keys to the cabin. Can you help?”

I considered this for a moment. Sarah Jean was visiting this weekend so it was unlikely that she'd be back next weekend as well. I should be free and the fresh air would do me some good. It wasn't like I didn't have personal days I needed to use up. “I'll talk to your dad and see what he expects,” I decided.

Dave brightened. “Thank you sir.”

I am clearly too nice.

Let's Be Done With This

I sense your concern. 'Patrick,' you are thinking, 'hadn't you been drinking for some time as well? Were you safe to drive?'

Allow me to further explain my situation. While I had been consuming beer for a prolonged period of time, I had been keeping my own pace, not being influenced by Professor Smith-Smythe's pace. This prevented me from becoming too affected at any particular time. While talking to Jen, I had further slowed my drinking, as I was getting full as well as because it felt weird to be drinking with this student. This allowed my head to further clear and prevented me from saying anything too stupid.

Also don't think that once we decided that I would provide her transport that we immediately rose and entered my car. Did we soon depart the bar? Yes. Did we immediately leave campus? No. I had to return to my office first and take care of a thing or two. Also we had to go that way because my car was over that way.

Big Ken was nice enough to toss us bottles of water as we left so we wouldn't dehydrate on the way there. Can I put my hand on my heart and say that I was stone cold sober when I got behind the wheel? No. Can I say that I had good reason to feel sober and safe? Yes. Between my pace, the time that elapsed between when I stopped drinking and getting to the car, and the rehydrating effects of the water, I did not feel any effects of the alcohol upon me. By that time, the heat was more of an impact upon me than the alcohol had been. While the heat made me tired and sweaty, it did not prevent me from driving safely.

My being coherent is important at this point for more than just the fact that my driving was not impacted. It means that I was at my normal levels of stupidity, unaffected by the stupidity multiplier that is alcohol. It also means that my memory is unaffected. Therefore when I say that I drove Jen the couple miles to her house and dropped her off without even so much as a handshake of physical contact between us, it is not me guessing or believing that these were the events that occurred, it is a statement of fact. I am not interested in debates about personal perspective of events or memory erasers. Why would someone rewrite my memories of that night? What would be the point?

Yet the accusations are out there. I was seen leaving the bar with Jen. Someone took pictures of the event and manipulated them to make it look like our departure was more friendly that it was. To my eyes, they aren't even that well done. Do I know someone who has wasted his life in an attempt to make me look stupid? Yes. Do I really need the help? Of course not.

Sarah Jean, let's just blame this on Eric and move on.

We're Doing What Now?

Everything worked out. The laptop probably needed to be reimaged anyway and, thankfully, Professor Pedrina had connected to the network causing the file synchronization program to run, updating his files on the network drive. Mrs. Schwanke was in a meeting and didn't notice any additional downtime due to the delay. Billy and I had a conversation about 'reading' and 'focus' and moved on from there.

“He never explained what caused the mix-up?” Jen asked.

“It's Billy,” I responded.”I don't think he knew. It just... happened.”

Jen shook her head as she worked on her drink. “He was talking to me. The reimage was my ticket.” This confused me and I requested more information. “Billy had a question about where Mrs. Schwanke's desk was and I was the only one around to ask. After he stumbled around waiting for someone else to return for a few minutes, I finally asked him what he wanted. He fumbled, stumbled, called me 'honey' at one point, tried to lean over my desk, almost fell, dropped his ticket and managed to grab my ticket when he picked up his. I'm not sure he'd ever spoken to a woman before.”

I couldn't help but laugh at that. Finally I responded with “Oh my. Well, I suppose that explains why he was more confused than normal.”

“Am I that intimidating?” she questioned.

This question confused me slightly. What exactly did she mean by 'intimidating'? I fought for as neutral a response as possible, which was a bit of a struggle given the situation. “I hesitate to speculate on anything regarding Billy and his reaction to people.” This answer seemed to satisfy her.

Awkwardly, Professor Smith-Smythe leaned over the table to speak with me. This involved having to politely wave Jen away and sprawl around glasses and napkins and such. This action managed to rob him of most of his dignity. “Thanks for the tour old man. Best one yet. Must dash.”

This declaration threw me off completely. “Are you okay to drive?” I asked, ignoring any compliment that may have been directed at me.

“Not to worry, my new friend is providing the transport.” He grinned wickedly and winked. “Ta.” Surprisingly quickly, they were gone.

While I was shocked, Jen was confused. “What just happened?”

“I think Professor Smith-Smythe just picked up your friend.” Admittedly I was torn between two responses, a 'that is so wrong' as well as a 'lucky dog'.

Jen also had dogs on her mind, although from her exclamation, it was the female of the species she had in mind. “That's just wrong! And creepy! And she was my ride home.”

“Do you have far to go?” I checked.

She was still sulking. “No, but it'll feel like it in this heat.”

There was nothing else for it. “I can take you home.” She politely protested and I politely insisted and that slowly become the decision.

Thank You Billy

It was a stupid mistake, one that anyone could have made if they weren't paying attention to what they were doing. For a long period of time, that well described Billy. Technically speaking, Billy is very clever. He knows his stuff regarding computers. His personal skills were a little limited but I hoped that becoming part of our group would help him with that, loosen him up a little as it were. The early stages of this loosening up faced us with a rather strange individual, and this is coming from me, so that should tell you something.

“I'm telling you, he's a serial killer in the making,” Dave insisted.

I gave Dave a 'cmon' look. “Billy may be bad but he's not that bad. He's awkward, not a killer.”

“He's a killer of moods,” offered 'Little' Anthony, so named because of his bulk. “We can be laughing it up in the call center and he'll walk in and it just crashes to a halt.”

“As much as I'm glad you can enjoy your work, that's not always a bad thing,” I noted. “Really, I need to quiet you guys down more often. I catch a lot of flax for you guys enjoying yourselves.”

“We're sorry,” Dave replied. “We don't mean to get you in any trouble,” 'Little' Anthony agreed with this declaration.

“Most of it is just jealousy,” I explained. “No one else gets to enjoy themselves like we do. When people walk in and hear the cheerfulness they assume we aren't working. I've got numbers that prove otherwise.”

I would have explained further but Billy joined us in my office. His gaze was focused on two pieces of paper that he held before him. We waited for a moment, expecting him to say something, but he just kept staring at the papers. Finally I said “Hello Billy.”

This led him to look up. “Hey. Yeah, so, I think I've got a problem.”

I expected more but he had returned to staring at the papers. “Is this the sort of situation where you're looking for us to determine whether or not you actually have a problem or do you know you have a problem and seek help resolving it?”

While Dave grinned at the overly polite way I delivered my request, Billy remained unaffected. For another moment he stared at his notes before he spoke. “I've got two requests for two different things and I think I mixed them up.”

“You think or you know?” I pressed.

“I don't think he knows,” Dave said wittily. Despite enjoying his statement, I shook my head slightly, trying to get Dave to knock it off.

If Billy noticed any of this, he didn't show it. “So I've got a ticket to load a printer driver on Professor Pedrina's laptop and another ticket to have Mrs. Schwanke's desktop reimaged.”

Things went quiet for a moment while we pondered the possibility that one of the high ranking officials of the university, as well as one of the more vocal members of the facility, may have had their laptop reset to an 'as new' state with all his accumulated files gone. The vulgarity that 'Little' Anthony exclaimed was understandable under the circumstances.

I leapt into damage control mode. “Dave, go check on the Professor's laptop, see if it's been reimaged. 'Little' Anthony, do the same for Mrs. Schwanke's desktop, see if she's still down. I'm gonna check the backup tapes, make sure we can restore the laptop if need be.” We bolted from our seats to depart. I paused for just a moment before leaving. “Billy. Do me a favor and just stay here. Okay?” He nodded. I dashed off, adding “And don't touch anything!”