"Celebrate what?" I said.
"Your first night back in the Village after all that excitement last Christmas," she said.
I gave her one of my patented looks. Wasted on her, of course. She ignores all my looks. Knows me too well.
"First, you young geezer, I've driven down from Durham today and I've got no energy left for celebrating. Second, I don't respond to references to last Yuletide. It's the dead past and I intend to let it stay dead."
She grew pensive if that's the word, and quiet. She looked down at her hands. I don't know why. A whim? Then her expression changed dramatically. It hotted up.
"What then?" she demanded. "You finally come back for a visit and I get my hopes up that something fun will finally happen in this moldy, old, village, and now you're going to bed. You've gotten old!"
A moment of silence passed while she waited for the gravitas of her comment to sink in and I waited for... I'm not exactly sure what I waited for. I just waited.
"First, you little goober, you know that every time I come into this blotted village, the earth opens up and swallows me whole and I'm never heard from again."
More silence. She sighed and gazed out the window to keep from looking at me.
"Fine," she said. "But can't we do something tonight--anything?"
"Tales of the Dark Side is on television tonight," I said. "The feature is How to Kill a Vampire. It's a BBC production."
She mused on this morsel and I took it as a good sign. I decided it couldn't hurt to continue with it, "Did you know the best way to rid yourself of a bothersome vampire, is a stake through the heart? The vampire's heart preferably. You could do it the other way but it's a much bigger production."
Without going into all the details, let me just summarize by saying that any movie with stakes through the heart is right up this little ninja's alley. She gave in without a struggle.
We met in the party room of the Inn of the Three Sisters to watch the movie on the big screen TV. I was relieved to know that my first day back in the village would wrap up neatly without incident.
Ha!
We know, you and I, that it's just when you think all is well and stop looking for it, that the Universe sneaks up behind you and lets you have it behind the ear with a sock full of wet sand. But one can hope.
Lupe and I sat on the floor in front of the TV, a bowl of popcorn between us. Midnight was only minutes away. The movie began at 11:30 so we'd already learned of the vampire, although we hadn't yet been introduced. And we'd learned that the townsfolk had resolved to rid themselves of the thing. Or rather, the local doctor was cajoled into doing it.
The doctor and one unfortunate villager had entered the old mansion on the hill and had descended into the cellar. It was a silly thing to do, of course, but they did it even though Lupe and I were telling them, No, no, you stupid twerps!
There was no light in the cellar, other than the single candle the accomplice carried. Now when I say cellar, I mean just that. This was no self-respecting basement with recessed lighting, a second fridge, and beanbag toss. This was a dark, damp, rat-infested, cellar. And it had a casket in the middle of the room with a vampire in it.
We learned that the vampire's name was Daisy. Really? Daisy? It's true; I don't make these things up.
The two heroes crept up to the coffin. The doctor pulled a sharpened wooden stake from his coat with his left hand, and then a wooden mallet with his right. The other guy just held the candle. But it wasn't his only purpose; he also opened the lid of the casket.
Inside the coffin, illumined by the candle, lay Daisy, beautiful in her vampire sleep, except for the blood that trickled from the corners of her mouth. The doctor placed the tip of the stake on Daisy's left breast and raised the mallet. Just at that moment Daisy opened her eyes and saw the mallet about to fall. She took it big!
Daisy's mouth opened in what I knew would be a prolonged, unearthly shriek. But that didn't happen. No shriek from Daisy.
At the same instant Daisy opened her mouth, so did Lupe open hers, and although Daisy's scream was stopped short by the stake, Lupe actually did a passing imitation of a prolonged, unearthly shriek.
Lupe's scream was inches from my ear and the sound of it electrified me. I was moved to action. But there was nothing for me to do except kick the popcorn bowl into the TV screen. I did it expertly.
The noise woke my Aunt Cynthia, whose bedroom was at the top of the stairs, and she shouted to her husband, although there was no reason to shout since he was sleeping next to her, "Paul, wake up and put your pants on! The Lord has come back and Judgement Day is here!"
Well, you can't expect the sleeping members of the household to remain calm with all that going on. And remaining calm is just what they didn't do.
My grandfather, a veteran of the Great War, had told me the story of the Battle of the Bulge many times. His unit, in preparing for the German onslaught, referred to it as, Judgement Day.
When Grandpa Will, sleeping in a room down the hall from Aunt Cynthia, heard her shouting, he assumed the Nazis had begun the final push, and he immediately took steps to buy time for the allies.
His service revolver, the one he brought home as a souvenir of the war, was quickly warmed up and he began firing out his bedroom window into the night. I'm not sure what he was shooting at but there you have it.
As you've probably guessed, the gun-play aroused the neighborhood to the man, and to the dog. They took it big too! Men and dogs alike. For their part, the dogs were inspired to create a rousing serenade to serve as a theme song for the on-screen action.
The men, who were no less hotted up than the dogs, demonstrated their patriotism in this perceived hour of crisis by exercising their Second Amendment rights. The sound of gunfire and barking dogs could be heard as far away as Dallas Bay.
It took some time for things to settle down. I could still hear sporadic gunfire as late as 2:00 AM. I don't know when it actually stopped. It may have just moved out of hearing and continued to move around the globe like daybreak.
Something resembling calm was eventually restored. Family and guests were returned to their beds. When peace and quiet reigned once again, Lupe and I were raiding the fridge in the main kitchen.
"Wow!" said the shrimp with a mouthful of butter-pecan ice cream. "That was exciting. I don't know when I've had more fun."
"It's certainly been the most eventful summer solstice I can remember," I said.
"Me too," she said. "We've had a few winter solstices that come close." With that comment, a wince creased my face, and a smile that simply could not be held back creased the corners of her mouth.
I'd gotten a big kick out of the evening, and that's not a reference to the popcorn bowl. I especially enjoyed being interviewed by Constable on Call, Vickie Mason, in her vain attempt to pin the whole ranygazoo on me. It was a refreshing change to have nothing to hide and I was almost looking forward to the rest of my stay.
I decided to give the little Hobbit (Lupe) a pass for that reference to exciting winter solstices.
"We've had some exciting winter solstices," I said to her. "But this one wins the Oscar because it didn't require starting an unfortunate conflagration to burn down the fishing guides dormitory."
The two heroes crept up to the coffin. The doctor pulled a sharpened wooden stake from his coat with his left hand, and then a wooden mallet with his right. The other guy just held the candle. But it wasn't his only purpose; he also opened the lid of the casket.
Inside the coffin, illumined by the candle, lay Daisy, beautiful in her vampire sleep, except for the blood that trickled from the corners of her mouth. The doctor placed the tip of the stake on Daisy's left breast and raised the mallet. Just at that moment Daisy opened her eyes and saw the mallet about to fall. She took it big!
Daisy's mouth opened in what I knew would be a prolonged, unearthly shriek. But that didn't happen. No shriek from Daisy.
At the same instant Daisy opened her mouth, so did Lupe open hers, and although Daisy's scream was stopped short by the stake, Lupe actually did a passing imitation of a prolonged, unearthly shriek.
Lupe's scream was inches from my ear and the sound of it electrified me. I was moved to action. But there was nothing for me to do except kick the popcorn bowl into the TV screen. I did it expertly.
The noise woke my Aunt Cynthia, whose bedroom was at the top of the stairs, and she shouted to her husband, although there was no reason to shout since he was sleeping next to her, "Paul, wake up and put your pants on! The Lord has come back and Judgement Day is here!"
Well, you can't expect the sleeping members of the household to remain calm with all that going on. And remaining calm is just what they didn't do.
My grandfather, a veteran of the Great War, had told me the story of the Battle of the Bulge many times. His unit, in preparing for the German onslaught, referred to it as, Judgement Day.
When Grandpa Will, sleeping in a room down the hall from Aunt Cynthia, heard her shouting, he assumed the Nazis had begun the final push, and he immediately took steps to buy time for the allies.
His service revolver, the one he brought home as a souvenir of the war, was quickly warmed up and he began firing out his bedroom window into the night. I'm not sure what he was shooting at but there you have it.
As you've probably guessed, the gun-play aroused the neighborhood to the man, and to the dog. They took it big too! Men and dogs alike. For their part, the dogs were inspired to create a rousing serenade to serve as a theme song for the on-screen action.
The men, who were no less hotted up than the dogs, demonstrated their patriotism in this perceived hour of crisis by exercising their Second Amendment rights. The sound of gunfire and barking dogs could be heard as far away as Dallas Bay.
It took some time for things to settle down. I could still hear sporadic gunfire as late as 2:00 AM. I don't know when it actually stopped. It may have just moved out of hearing and continued to move around the globe like daybreak.
Something resembling calm was eventually restored. Family and guests were returned to their beds. When peace and quiet reigned once again, Lupe and I were raiding the fridge in the main kitchen.
"Wow!" said the shrimp with a mouthful of butter-pecan ice cream. "That was exciting. I don't know when I've had more fun."
"It's certainly been the most eventful summer solstice I can remember," I said.
"Me too," she said. "We've had a few winter solstices that come close." With that comment, a wince creased my face, and a smile that simply could not be held back creased the corners of her mouth.
I'd gotten a big kick out of the evening, and that's not a reference to the popcorn bowl. I especially enjoyed being interviewed by Constable on Call, Vickie Mason, in her vain attempt to pin the whole ranygazoo on me. It was a refreshing change to have nothing to hide and I was almost looking forward to the rest of my stay.
I decided to give the little Hobbit (Lupe) a pass for that reference to exciting winter solstices.
"We've had some exciting winter solstices," I said to her. "But this one wins the Oscar because it didn't require starting an unfortunate conflagration to burn down the fishing guides dormitory."