Chapter Eleven: Notch Up Another One for Hank

I sprinted across the clearing, jumped across the creek, and dived under the limestone ledge.

Seeing the expression on Little Alfred’s face gave me all the reward I needed for performing amazing feats of amazing things—with a little help from Madame Moonshine, of course. I mean, the boy was just tickled to death to see me.

When I reached the ledge I was dripping wet, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He came running over to me, throwed his arms around my neck, and liked to have strangled me with love.

“Hankie, you came back! I’m so gwad!”

“Well, of course I came back. Did you think I was going to leave you to the buzzards and the bobcats?”

He released me and stepped back. His eyes had grown as big as plates. “Did you see that big old tigoo?”

“It was a bob . . . no, maybe it was a tiger. Yes, I’m sure it was, probably the biggest tiger ever seen in Ochiltree County.”

“The big old tigoo was going to eat me, but then two wolfs came and wan him away!”

“Yeah, well, I hope you understand who brought the wolves, son. They were pals of mine and I asked them to do a little favor for me, see, and, well, you know the rest of the story. I hope you’ll remember this the next time your ma starts chunking rocks at me.”

The smile on his face faded. His lower lip began to tremble and a tear slipped out of the corner of his eye. “I want to go home. I miss my mommy.”

I lifted my head to a stern angle and gave him a severe looking-over. “I thought she was mean. I thought you were going to run away from home. I thought you didn’t like your new baby sister. What’s the deal?”

“I don’t wike tigoos and I’m cold and I’m hungwee and I want my mommy!”

“All wight . . . all right, that is, don’t cwy anymore, cry anymore. I’ll take you home as soon as this rain lets up, but you’ve got to promise to quit pulling my tail and being a little brat. Can you do that?” He nodded. “All right, raise your right hand and repeat the Pledge: I promise to quit being a little brat.”

“I pwomise to quit being a wittle bwat.”

“Forever and ever and always.”

“Forevoh and evoh and always.”

“So help me . . .”

Suddenly I heard a fluttering noise behind me. Thinking that we were about to be attacked by Sinister the Bobcat or by my cannibal friends, I bristled, bared my fangs, whirled around, and cut loose with a deep ferocious bark.

Oh. Buzzards. Two of them. Wallace and Junior.

“Hi there, neighbor,” said Wallace, “it’s kindly damp out there on the limb, don’t reckon y’all would mind sharing this nice dry cave with—move over, Junior, you’re a-crowdin’ me, son—and if y’all don’t mind, we’ll just sit in here ’til this shower passes over, is what we had in mind.”

I swaggered over to the old man. “Are you the same guy who was up in that tree, waiting for my little pal to get attacked by a bobcat?”

His beak dropped open. “No sir, I did not, in fact I said to Junior, and these here are my very words, I said, ‘Junior, you git yourself down there and help that boy!’”

“I heard what you said, buzzard, and it would serve you right if I throwed you out into the rain.”

“Now, I never, you must have misunderstood; Junior, are you gonna just sit there and let this dog . . .”

“Y-y-yeah, c-cause you d-d-did s-say that and I h-h-heard you.”

Wallace glared at him. “Tattletale!”

“I m-may b-be a t-t-t-t-t-tattletale, but y-you t-t-told a b-b-big fat l-l-l-lie, big fat lie.”

“That’s exactly right, buzzard,” I said. “You told a big fat lie.”

Wallace’s eyes darted back and forth between me and Junior. “Well, what did you expect? It’s hard to be a Christian and a buzzard at the same time.”

“That’s no excuse, and unless you agree to take some punishment for being such a creep, you can just stand outside in the rain.”

Wallace narrowed his eyes to slits. “I ain’t ever took NO punishment from NO dog, and I ain’t fixin’ to start now, and I’ll go stand by myself in the rain and I’ll enjoy ever’ minute of it because I’d rather be around ME than be around a bunch of ninnies! So there!”

And with that, he waddled out on the ledge and stood in the pouring rain. Junior turned to me and gave me a shy smile.

“H-hi, D-d-doggie. P-pa t-t-told a l-lie and y-you d-d-did r-right to m-m-make him l-l-leave.”

Just then, Wallace stuck his face back inside the cave and said, “And furthermore, I hope all y’all’s babies are born naked!” Then he went back out.

“Junior,” I said, “I’d like for you to meet a friend of mine. This here’s Little Alfred. Alfred, this here’s Junior the Buzzard.”

Little Alfred stared at us in amazement. “A weel buzzood?”

“That’s right, son. In a year or two, you won’t be able to talk back and forth with us like this, but you can now and we might as well give you the full treatment. When you get home, you can tell your ma that you met a real genuine buzzard.”

“H-hi, A-a-a-a-alfred.”

The boy couldn’t speak. He just stared at us with shining eyes and a big smile. Just then Wallace yelled at us again.

“It’s great out here, I love it, never enjoyed a rain more in my life!”

Junior grinned. “W-w-what was the p-p-punishment g-g-gonna b-be?”

“Well, I was going to make your old man join us in singing a nice happy song about all the wonderful things we enjoy about this life. He’s such a grouch, I figgered that would hurt him as bad as anything.”

“Y-y-y-yeah, h-he’d h-hate that!”

I went to the edge of the cave. Old Wallace was out there all humped over and dripping water and grumbling to himself.

“How’s the weather out there, Wallace?”

“Wonderful! I still love it!”

“You sure you don’t want to come back inside and take your punishment?”

“Puppy, I ain’t never took no . . .”

At that very moment a bolt of lightning came crashing down and struck a big cottonwood tree right in front of us. Leaves and tree bark went flying in all directions and there was a terrible BOOM!

Wallace squawked and jumped so high that he landed back inside the cave. “On second thought, a little punishment is good for the soul. What is it you have in mind, dog?”

“We’re all going to sing a little song.”

“I hate songs!”

“About the things we love most in this life.”

“I hate love!”

“And you’re going to do a verse, the same as the rest of us.”

“I hate music and I can’t sing!”

“Then get back out there in the rain.”

“On the other hand, a guy can always try.”

“That’s better.”

“But that don’t mean I’ll like it.”

“That’s fine, you don’t have to like it.”

“Good, because I won’t.”

I went through the song and showed them how it was done. Then I did the first verse, and when I finished we went around the circle and each of us did a verse. Even Little Alfred did one. The song was called “I Love All Kinds of Stuff,” and here’s how it went.

Hank:

I love the septic tank’s

Emerald waters bank to bank,

Oh, I love the septic tank,

It makes my life worthwhile.

Junior:

I love pretty girls,

They make my feathers want to curl,

Oh! I love pretty girls,

They make my life worthwhile.

Alfred:

I wuv pwaying twucks,

I wuv my mommy vewy much,

I wuv her tender touch,

It makes my wife worffwhile.

Well, it was Wallace’s turn. We all looked at him and waited for him to come up with a verse. He had his wings folded across his chest and a huge scowl on his face.

“Your turn, Wallace, jump right in there.”

“What’s a ‘twuck’? I never heard of a twuck; and Junior, you wouldn’t know what to do with a pretty girl if you found one!”

“Y-y-yeah, b-but I c-could t-t-t-try.”

“And anybody that was dumb enough to spend time in a septic tank . . .”

“Sing, buzzard, or go stand in the rain!”

“All right, I’ll sing, but I ain’t gonna like it and it ain’t gonna be pretty! ‘I love . . . I love . . . I love . . .’ What key’s it in, I cain’t find the note!”

“It won’t matter, Wallace, just grab a note and run with it.”

“All right, you asked for it!”

Wallace:

I love being mad,

Yelling, scolding, talking bad,

I love being called a cad,

It makes my life worthwhile.

After we’d each done our verses, we put them all together and sang them in harmony. Boy, did we cut loose and sing! It must have been pretty good, because when we were done the rain had stopped and the sun had broken through the clouds.

I turned to Wallace. “Now, wasn’t that fun? Go ahead and admit it, we won’t tell anybody.”

“No, it wasn’t no fun at all. I hate music, I hate singing, I hate love, and I hate fun.”

“Wallace, you’re nothing but a cad.”

His face burst into a smile. “Now you’re talkin’, dog, I love that!”

The old fool, I pushed him off the ledge and he flew away. Then I turned to Junior. “Well, the rain’s quit and I’ve got to get this boy back to his ma. See you again sometime. It was fun.”

“Y-y-yeah, it s-s-sure w-w-was. I l-love to s-s-sing.”

Little Alfred hadn’t said a word. He was hanging back kind of bashful-like and had a finger in his mouth. “Good-bye, Junyo. I wike buzzoods.”

“B-b-bye, L-little A-alfred.”

And with that, Junior jumped off the ledge and flapped his big wings and flew away.

I took a deep breath and turned to Alfred.

“Well, son, you’ve had a rare opportunity to meet some of my friends. One of these days, when you’re all growed up, you’ll look back at this day and wonder if it really happened. And it did.”

He nodded and smiled, and the sparkle in his eyes was prettier than any star I’d ever seen.

“Now let’s see if we can sneak you back home without getting both of us in a world of trouble.”

And with that, we left our adventures behind us and headed for the house.