Lump on a Log

When Tony woke up the next morning, sunlight filtered through the open cave exit. He heard his father coughing outside the cave, and then there was a rustle that sounded like a newspaper.

Tony got up and went outside. His father was sitting in the grass. An open newspaper lay on his knees, and beside him sat a bag of fresh rolls.

Could he already have gone to Long Suffering? It seemed so, because the bike was leaning against a different tree than last night!

“Hello, Dad!” Tony called. “Are you feeling better?”

His father turned his head and gave him a strained smile.

“Better?” he said. “No, not really.”

“But you’ve already gone shopping.”

“Yes, I thought they had a pharmacy in Long Suffering,” his father answered. “The ointment from the first aid kit didn’t help very much.” To prove it, he held up his right hand.

Tony was frightened. The three fingers he had crushed had turned dark purple.

“And?” he asked. “Did you find a pharmacy?”

“No. But I called Mom. If the pain doesn’t stop soon, she’s going to come.”

“What?” Tony cried. “Mom’s coming?”

His father tried not to laugh. “I don’t even want to think about what would happen if you had done this to your fingers! You’d want to go home right away!”

“Home?” Tony swallowed. “Does that mean you want…”

“No, I don’t,” his father replied. “Now don’t stand there like a lump on a log!” he added teasingly. “We are still in Misery Valley! Let’s think about what we want to do today in spite of my injured hand.”

But of course, their options for things to do were quite limited.

After breakfast—although “breakfast” was no longer the appropriate term, because it was already half past twelve—they went down to the stream and did some fishing. But they only caught one small fish, which Tony threw back into the water.

Later they sat in front of the cave and Tony read to his father from the vampire book. He read “Lip-Smacking in the Grave,” and while the story was reaching its climax and Tony’s heart was beating faster and faster, his father was fighting increasing fatigue. By the time Tony had gotten to the part where the lid of the coffin was slowly opening and everyone standing around the crypt could hear horrible smacking, Tony paused to raise the tension and noticed, to his amazement, that his father was practically asleep.

“Don’t you like the story?” he asked.

“Yes, yes. It’s very funny,” his father replied in a weary voice. “Especially the thing with all the children smacking their lips while eating.”

“Children?” said Tony in surprise. There weren’t any children in the story! Apparently, his father wasn’t really listening. Was it because of the painkillers he had taken earlier?

“But now I need to get some rest,” said Tony’s father, getting up. “You can tell me later how it ends.”

“I will!” Tony nodded, and with a feeling of apprehension, he saw his father disappear into the cave. Maybe it would be a good thing for his mother to come, he thought. But if it were up to him, she would hold off for a few more days.