Sparks Gets The
Last Laugh
by Jan F.
Drewniak and Don Drewniak
This
is the fourth excerpt from The
Junk Picker published in
2012.
Setting:
The Berkshires in Massachusetts during the Great
Depression.
The
characters in this episode:
Pinball (Pinball
Johnny) — My father, Jan F. Drewniak, who
was nineteen years old and was in the process of
rebuilding a large house and making a near one
mile lane passable from the nearest road. The
house and a large barn were owned by the man for
whom he had worked in a machine shop in Brooklyn
for the two previous years.
Jack —
The owner of the country property Pinball was
repairing. He also owned a machine shop and home
in Brooklyn.
Dan (Mountain
Man) — A friend of Jack who held a minor
grudge against Pinball for, among other things,
Pinball’s refusal to sell him furniture
obtained from Sparks.
Sparks —
The nearest neighbor to Pinball who was a
friendly rival and sometimes foil.
Weekend guests
at Jack's Berkshires house.
* * * * *
It was a cool
Saturday afternoon just before the end of summer.
I knew I should have gone out somewhere, but I
hung around being careful to stay away from the
house. During the course of the afternoon, a
friendly argument broke out under a tree located
in the front of the house. The center of the
argument was Mountain Man.
Jack found me
hiding out in one of my rooms. “Pinball, do
me a favor. Get an ax and take the gang to the
big half dead tree out back.”
“Heck,
they can see the tree as they walk to it.”
“I don’t
think so. The brush in front is high and, to be
honest, I’ll feel better if you quietly
supervise.”
“Why, do
they want to see that tree?”
“Dan has
a bet with all of them that he can cut a tree
down and have it drop on a mark he makes on the
ground.”
“He said
that? Hell, he can’t see his shoes if he
bends over. How can he cut a big tree? This I
have to see.”
Jack laughed
and walked away.
I went
downstairs, grabbed an ax and made my way to the
group. “All right, loggers, follow me. Stay
in single file through the brush and keep your
distance or a branch from the small trees will
slap you down.”
Mountain Man
was directly behind me as we started through the
brush. “Ouch, damn you, Pinball, be careful
when you let go of a branch.”
“I told
you to keep your distance.”
He did for a
moment or two, but then he closed in again as I
released a large branch that I had pushed out of
the way. It swung back and hit him like a bullet.
He howled and then released a torrent of swears.
“Dammit,
Pinball, you did that on purpose.”
“Don’t
blame me. How many times do I have to tell you to
stay back? It’s not my fault you can’t
understand English.”
“One of
these days you’ll get it, Pinball.”
That day was
about to happen.
We made it to
a clearing. There wasn’t a blade of grass
around the target tree. I dropped the ax to the
ground. Just about everybody took off their
jackets and folded them so that they could sit
and watch the show.
“Now beat
it, Pinball,” growled Mountain Man. “I’m
mad at you for the day.”
“Good,
then they’ll be no chance of my getting a
hernia when you have to be carried out of here.
Ten swings of the ax and that blubber on you will
sag to your ankles.”
“Beat it,
big mouth.”
I left with a
loud laugh, but if he thought for a second that I
would miss this one, he was crazy. I circled
around and slowly crept to the side where I could
watch. There he was studying the tree. He finally
made a mark about twenty five feet away and then
kicked some sticks near it.
“That’s
the mark, boys. Too bad I didn’t let Pinball
watch me.”
He picked up
the ax, set it between his knees, spat on his
hands and rubbed them together. He picked up the
ax again, looked at the tree and began to swing.
I was amazed as were the others to see him keep
swinging.
Chips were
flying in all directions. After about three
minutes, he stopped for a break. He didn’t
appear to have broken a sweat.
“Surprised
you fellas, didn’t I? You didn’t think
I had it in me, did you? And that Pinball thinks
he has to remind me a dozen times a day that I’m
a tub of lard.”
One of the
group said, “You’re just letting him
get your goat.”
“Look who’s
talking,” he responded, “you weren’t
too happy a few weeks back when he said you
looked like you were wearing clothes made out of
old burlap bags.”
He went back
to his swinging. Four swings and he let out a
yell and dropped the ax. He began swatting the
air and let out one scream after another,
sounding like a wounded bull. My heart all but
stopped. All the others dashed for the brush with
Mountain Man right behind them. Had I the sense
to stay where I was, things might have been
different. Unfortunately, I stood up to see how
the men were doing. That’s when the home
guards spotted me. I was in deep trouble.
Dashing
through the brush the long way, I hit a briar
patch. I had no choice but to back out and run
right into what seemed like a swarm of thousands.
I flailed my arms in panic while running as fast
as possible. As I smashed through the brush and
into sight of the creek, I very well may have
unofficially broken several of Jesse Owen’s
records. Finally, I dropped into the water. It
was only about two feet deep, so all I could do
was keep as much of my body as possible submerged
and splash for all I was worth.
I wasn’t
certain whether five minutes or ten minutes or
fifteen minutes passed until I stopped splashing
and dared to open my eyes. There wasn’t a
bee in view. I sat in the water and began to
assess the damage. My right cheek was swollen and
my rear end was throbbing. Blood was trickling
out of numerous cuts and scrapes on my arms and
legs. I looked down at my shirt. It was shredded.
My pants were torn.
Breaking off a
few branches as weapons, I splashed through the
creek as long as I could while slowly circling
toward the house. The closer I came to the house,
the louder became the noise of the men yelling
and swearing.
When I reached
the edge of the lawn, I heard Jack yell through a
screen door, “Pinball, take a run in here.”
“No, I’ll
make it to my place.”
“You
stung?”
“A few
places. How are the others?”
“So, so.”
As amazed as I
was when I first saw Mountain Man swinging the ax,
I was even more amazed to hear him laughing from
inside the house. No one else seemed to be
laughing.
Although there
were no bees where I was standing, I had no idea
what I would encounter near the barn, so I took a
deep breath and broke into a sprint while wildly
swinging the branches. Never was I so glad as
then to be in my room. I stripped and took a long
shower. After I dried myself off, I smeared my
body with some ointment. Just as I finished
putting on a fresh change of clothes, I heard
Jack yelling from the house.
“Pinball,
it’s Jack. Are you okay?”
“What
little is left of me.”
“Damn,
Pinball, I’m sorry. Listen, do you know of
anyone with a bee outfit?”
“Not that
I know of, why?”
“We are
in trouble. We all left our jackets there. Dan’s
got important papers in his and some of the
others have stuff, too. Two of them lost their
wallets and me a valuable wrist watch.”
“Give me
a half hour.”
“Don’t
you dare go back there.”
Ignoring him,
I dashed down to the garage section of the barn,
took off my shirt and pants and opened a work
clothes trunk. I put on two pairs of old pants,
two old shirts, a working suit, boots, a leather
hat with ear muffs and welder’s gloves. Next
came a welding shield to cover my face and old
rags and towels stuffed and tied around my neck.
Grabbing a
burlap bag and a box of stick matches, I headed
out the door. Jack started screaming at me. I
waved the bag at him in return.
It was very
slow going through the brush, but I managed to
find one wallet somewhere near the end of it. I
put it in the bag just before I broke into the
clearing. The bees circled me as I kicked leaves
in a pile. It took some doing to light a match
with the welder’s gloves on, but once I did
I set the leaves on fire. It wasn’t long
before I had four fires going. The bees quickly
veered away from me whenever I stepped through
the smoke.
The ax was on
the ground where Mountain Man had dropped it. I
left it there and then picked up the next most
visible item, the big guy’s jacket and
followed that by stuffing the rest of the jackets
into the burlap bag.
Placing the
bag on the ground, I put more leaves on the fires.
The smoke thinned the bees out and a few of them
were on the ground. I found the second wallet and
Jack’s watch. There appeared to be nothing
else belonging to the logging crew, so I made
sure that all the fires were out and kicked dirt
on them to be certain.
The walk back
was even slower than the walk to the tree because
of the weight of the jackets and the fact that I
was pouring sweat inside my bee protection. The
loggers were all watching from the windows in the
house as I emerged from the brush. Not a sound
could be heard. I went to the front door of the
house, opened it, threw the bag in and went back
to the barn as wet as if I had just come out of
the creek. I took the outfit off and once again
headed for the shower.
Jack and
Mountain Man came in a little later dressed like
Eskimos. I asked the big guy how he was doing.
“Hell, I
got the worst of it, but you don’t see me
complaining like the rest of them. How about you,
Pinball?”
“Three
stings that I know of.”
“I
figured you’d be around as you’re too
damn nosy to have stayed away. Anyhow, here, you
earned it.” He held out a handful of five
and ten dollar bills.
“What’s
this?” I asked.
“The bet
money. We all voted to give it to you. By the way,
you look as if that woman gave you another black
eye.” (See episode three – Just You
Wait, You Miserable Stinker).
With that, he
broke into uncontrollable laughter.
Pretending not
to have heard him, I said, “Don’t tell
me you cowards are leaving?”
“We sure
are,” replied Jack who had a suitcase with
him. All the women are scared and, to be honest,
so are most of the men back there. See you next
week.”
I watched the
gang as they filed out of the house. Some of the
women had blankets or sheets hanging down from
the tops of their heads and all of them were
wearing men’s pants. Two or three men had
blankets over their heads, while a few others had
their heads covered by jackets. They ran directly
to their cars and those who had open windows
quickly closed them.
Sparks
appeared fifteen to twenty later. “Pinball,
Dan just pulled into my driveway and said that I
might want to take a look at you. Then he drove
off. Damn, what happened to your face?”
I told him the
whole story. He laughed from beginning to end.
When I described my being attacked, he slammed
his cap to the ground after having slapped it
against his leg at least three dozen times.
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