“Story Time! (001 – The Garden)” by Richard F. Yates

In the upper left-hand corner of the page, in a tiny box, and inked with a slightly shaky hand, floated the words, “MEANWHILE, IN THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST…” Directly under this, a panel sat, which suddenly expanded into a full screen---PANARAMA---of a large green chunk of land. What was clearly an expensive helicopter shot began to play out, the camera-eye drifting over a few snow-frosted peaks, hills covered in evergreen trees and maples, a river snaking through irregular valley walls cut by glaciers millennia ago… The scene swayed as the whirly bird banked, following a larger river, possibly the Columbia (or based on the Columbia), as it rolled towards the ocean---just out of frame to the west.

The eye narrowed. Smokestacks and a few bridges twisted below---one particularly large bridge hurdling over the river, and the eye followed the northern path of the bridge into a small, grungy town, past cranes packing logs onto huge ships and train-cars waiting on rust-stained tracks for cargo...

Smoke from various mills puffed into the air all around the scene, like mini-atomic mushroom clouds, or festering marshmallow balloons crawling into the darkening sky---which was itself a greenish orange. The camera-eye hugged the road, zooming past beaten up cars, ridiculously tall (but spotlessly clean) trucks, and human figures asleep in doorways next to shopping carts full of unearthly treasures. The buildings, as the road evolved and the view shifted, became nicer, the streets brighter, the bodies laying in doorways and alleys fewer, and the cars newer---and covered with more bumper-stickers.

The camera eye banked right, following a split street---two lanes moving east, a series of grassy islands, and two more lanes moving west---until a coffee shop appeared on one of the eastbound corners. The eye focused on the door to the shop, moved in, towards the doorknob, then became a hand…

Robert F. Zimmerman turned the nob of Cornbluthe’s Coffee and stepped inside, a series of bells attached to the door jingling and clanking as it opened, and then again as the spring-lever slowly pushed it closed. All four of the people in the dimly lit room turned to look at the newcomer, and Bob instantly recognized his target, the tall, skinny, red-headed guy sitting by the giant, painted front window. The other three young folks (who may become important in a future story---but at this point don’t need to be introduced) went back to their conversation. A short, thick woman, with a half-smile and black, spikey hair, poked her head out from behind a kitchen door---saw no trouble---and then disappeared again. (This was Alicia Cornbluthe---sole proprietor of the coffee shop. She is going to die in the fourth episode. It will be very tragic.)

“Hey Chris,” said Bob, “Sorry I’m late. I hadn’t been written yet, until I opened the door.”

The red-haired fellow, Christopher Kringle, nodded. “I figured it was something like that.” He switched off the tablet he’d been wiggling his finger on. “You want a coffee?”

“I’ll go order something in a second. Alicia looks busy,” Bob pulled the heavy metal chair out from under the little, dark table, and sat.

“Did you see that thing in the paper about that old guy?” Chris asked. Apparently, whatever he’d been reading on his machine was still stuck in his head.

“Paper? I thought they closed the paper down,” Bob said.

“Well, they stopped printing paper copies of the paper---but the web page still puts out new stories…”

Bob shook his head, “I don’t think you can still call it a paper if they don’t make it on paper anymore…”

“Shut up,” Chris said, “I’m trying to deliver some exposition, and you’re sidetracking me! Let’s do another take…”

The two men both closed their eyes and took a deep breath. Chris shook his shoulder length hair and rolled his head on his neck. “Okay…”

“Did you see that article online about that old guy?” Chris said, then rolled his hand in the air, trying to get Bob to go with the flow.

“No,” Bob answered. “What was the article about?” The three kids sitting together at the table on the other side of the room suddenly started laughing. Chris frowned at them, yet another interruption to his story, but decided to soldier on…

“This old guy, down in the Highlands, retired---lives alone---started building this elaborate flower garden in his front yard…”

“What’s so weird about that? Lots of retired guys like to garden,” Bob said. Chris, utterly frustrated at this point, stared daggers at his friend. Bob held his hands up in an “Okay, okay…” gesture, but Chris continued to glare for several more seconds.

“Goddam. This story might not even be relevant anymore by the time I get it out…” Chris grumbled. He tried to regroup for one last push… “What’s so weird about it is that the guy’s garden kept getting bigger and more elaborate until it took over his whole yard---front and back. He had all these weird plants and flowers---things the article said most people had never seen before. Supposed to be pretty damn impressive…” Bob started to say something, but Chris held his fist up, like he was about to crack his buddy in the teeth. Bob covered his mouth with both hands (half stifling a chuckle.)

“So, when the guy’s garden got too big for his own yard, he just kept on building. Covered the sidewalk---even started rolling over into the street. And here’s the wildest thing! Somebody called the cops, ‘cuz this guy was blocking traffic, but when the officer showed up to tell the guy he couldn’t block the street, all the neighbors came out of their houses and basically told the cop to get lost! After a few minutes, there was this whole crowd of people surrounding the old guy and protecting the garden!”

The two men sat there, silently, for several seconds…

Eventually, Chris said, “Well? Isn’t that weird?”

“Oh! Can I talk now?” Bob said after taking his hands off his mouth.

“You can stop being a shithead!” Chris said, scrunched up his napkin, and tossed it into Bob’s face.

Alicia (who always knew when horseplay was afoot) suddenly appeared next to the table, giving Chris the Evil Eye. She turned to Bob, “You need anything, Hon?”

“Soy mocha?”

She nodded, turned another evil stare at Chris, then toddled back to the bar, where sinister hissing sounds suddenly erupted.

“So,” Chris goaded, “what do you think?”

“Kinda weird, I guess. Maybe the guy’s popular in that neighborhood.”

“Maybe,” Chris said, looking at the table. “Still, to defy the cops like that…”

Bob nodded. “It’s weird. When was this?”

“The article said he’d been working on the garden all summer, but the cop stuff just happened yesterday.”

“Did it say where?” Bob asked. He wasn’t REALLY that interested, but he knew that, once Chris got a topic stuck in his head, he wasn’t going to drop it until it was fully explored.

“One of those streets in the Highlands that runs into the lake… I think we should go check it out,” Chris declared.

“Why? It’s getting dark,” Bob said.

“Okay, then tomorrow. After work. We can meet at the Lion’s Island park and walk around the lake to that street. The garden is supposed to be pretty impressive. And it’d do your ass some good to go for a walk, anyway.”

Bob shook his head---but he really didn’t have much going on. Not tomorrow---not for the rest of the month. “Oh, fine. I’ll try to find my tennis shoes. Bottom of my closet, I think. I’ve been trying to get myself to the gym more often, anyway. This should be just as good.”

“Right. Cool,” Chris said---and Alicia was suddenly right beside the table with a mug in her hand.

“Here you go, Hon,” she said, and set the cup on the table in front of Bob.

“Thanks,” he said, and handed her his debit card…

The camera-eye latched on to the card, and swung---back and forth---as Alicia Cornbluthe (poor doomed Ms. Cornbluthe) walked with it to the counter. The eye tried to focus on the approaching card reader, in pendulum stabs, then finally slashed into the machine---and everything went black…

[More in a few days… Stay tuned!!!]

---Richard F. Yates (Still Undefined…)

[P.S. - I took the photograph at the top of the post (of one of our Halloween decorations) and digitally tweaked it until it screamed bloody murder!]