“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT JACOB?” bellowed a voice in alarm.
Neko jumped off of Jacob’s head to the floor and scampered away.
“DAD-GUM CAT!” complained Jacob, rubbing his sore head. “What’s gotten into her? It’s like she thinks I’m a gummed up dog! Cripes what an awful morning! By gum nothing but the awfullest calamity ever since I got up!”
He looked up to see his uncle standing in the kitchen doorway wearing a chef’s hat and a new red polka dot apron that stretched clear down his slender frame to the top edge of his worn brown work boots, sorely clashing with his blue silk pants and his shiny black long sleeve shirt. Unlike other farmers uncle Clair was known for habitually changing his appearance, dressing in garments that he had collected from around the world, and every day it was something new and different. Over the years Jacob had grown accustomed to seeing it, but there were times when Uncle Clair’s bad habit was just down right embarrassing, like their shopping excursions into town where Uncle Clair would go and get himself all fancied up in strange do-duds, and then prance around town.. However despite this constant humiliation, Uncle Clair was still the only family that he had ever known. Both of his parents had passed away in the Great War when he was just an infant, and it was his uncle that had stepped forward to take him in, treating him as if he were his very own son. But even at that there were still times when Jacob would feel a real longing for his mom and pop, and he would find himself wishing more than anything that his parents were still alive. It was during these terrible moments that he tried his best to recall what his parents were really like, and foolishly he would end up asking Uncle Clair about them. But always his uncle would respond with a grumble, shake of his head, and a quick turn to walk away, as if wanting to escape an awkward situation. Never giving him so much as a decent reply, always leaving him clinging to abstract imaginations that he never really found very satisfying.
In Uncle Clair’s large outstretched hand balanced a tall cluster of eggs, and piled dangerously on top of one another they looked as if the slightest twitch would send them tumbling to the floor. Around his thin waist was a thick leather belt with a silver studded scabbard that holstered a long handled spatula. If the morning had started out like any other normal day, Uncle Clair’s bizarre chuck wagon chef image would have set Jacob off in a roar of laughter, but now with everything tossed upside down and broken apart, it felt as if the new day had turned into his worst nightmare ever.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied, slowly pushing himself up. “I-uhm, am really sorry about you’re vase. It was an accident! Honest to gum!”
“You really did it this time! What a mess!” exclaimed Uncle Clair shaking his head with displeasure, as the eggs delicately quivered in his hand. “That was a very valuable piece, and I had a lot of memories in it! After breakfast I want you to clean up this mess along with your room, and then I want you to wash all of your dirty clothes, and I mean all of them, and hang them nicely outside on the clothesline!”
“My room? And all that laundry? But that will take me all day!” cried Jacob, feeling his mouth fall loose.
“Yes it will. And you’re lucky that I’m not having you shovel out the horse stalls along with it! It’s about time you cleaned up that room of yours, and that dirty shirt you’re wearing just proves my point. You haven’t got any more clean clothes left have you?” scolded his uncle sharply. He turned on his heels and headed back into the kitchen while shaking his head in a huff.
“Ahh shucks, of all the dad-gum bad luck,” inaudibly sighed Jacob, feeling terribly sorry for himself. “Why’d it have to go and muck up today?!”
Slowly he spun around and walked back toward the stairs, picking up a shoe and then angrily slipping it on again. In only a brief second he had ruined his only chance of swimming with his classmates, and he knew that he would never get that chance again! The aroma of frying bacon nipped at his nose, drawing his attention towards the kitchen while his empty stomach gave off a long rolling growl. Sniffing the tasty air he followed his uncle into the kitchen. “I was only practicing my diving,” he said awkwardly, digging for any excuse to discuss his punishment and plans for the day.
Inside their small kitchen a black cast iron stove sat next to a short counter that held a brown ceramic pitcher filled to the brim with rich creamy milk. And cradled on the stove’s burner was a large rusty frying pan sizzling with grease-spattering bacon. Jacob couldn’t help but notice his tin plate and fork already set out on their roughly crafted wooden table. The morning breakfast seemed to be near at hand, and he could feel his stomach starting to rumble again.
“Looked to me like you were just plain careless,” responded Uncle Clair bluntly.
“Nope it was diving all right,” joked Jacob shrewdly, “and I was planning on using that exact same move this morning at the swimming hole.”
With a surprised jolt Uncle Clair glanced back at Jacob, almost spilling the eggs. “You weren’t really thinking of swimming with those wild classmates of yours, were you?”
“Yeah they invited me so why not,” answered Jacob, knowing full well what his uncle really thought of his ratty classmates. He recalled their most recent tomfoolery, where after school they had underhandedly tied a live snake to his horse’s saddle. The half-crazed animal ran off into the woods in complete terror and it had taken Jacob and his uncle the rest of the day to track her back down.
Carefully Uncle Clair placed the eggs onto the counter and slowly turned, giving Jacob a disappointing frown.
“I’ll clean up the broken vase and my room later, I promise!” exclaimed Jacob, pleading for a miraculous reprieve. “You’ll let me go won’t you—pleeease?”
“Aren’t they the same kids that call you a ham-fisted dandy?” questioned Uncle Clair in a taut voice.
“Yeah, but things are starting to change, honest to gum! Otherwise they wouldn’t have invited me,” replied Jacob. He sat down at the table and stared up at Uncle Clair, begging him with the most puppy-like eyes he could muster. “I can go, can’t I? If you let me go, I promise later I’ll clean up anything you want; your room, my laundry, the kitchen, anything!”
“Okay, okay, just settle down Jacob,” replied Uncle Clair. He placed his hand on his chin and hesitated for a short moment, as if he were seriously pondering the matter over. Finally he dropped his hand and said. “All right then, I’ll let you go swimming but only on one condition that’s an absolute.”
“You just name it and I’ll do it,” responded Jacob, showing his enthusiasm by sitting up straight with a big smile. After breaking Uncle Clair’s prized vase it was short of a real miracle that he was getting his day returned. “Its’ gotta be my good luck working for me again,” he thought decidedly. “By gum today is gonna turn out just as I expected!”
“You’ll have to swim with your shirt on, you’re not to take it off under any circumstances. Understand!” curtly spurted Uncle Clair, catching Jacob by complete surprise.
“What! With my shirt on! Why?” questioned back Jacob in disbelief. “That’s senseless! I’ll be the only one!”
“That’s just the way it is. With your shirt on or else you don’t go!” said Uncle Clair, again raising his voice in a firmer tone.
Realizing that his uncle was serious Jacob angrily slumped low in his chair, glared back at Uncle Clair, and crossly shouted, “OK THEN, WITH MY SHIRT ON!”
The sound of the sizzling bacon seemed to press back the silence, while Uncle Clair met Jacob’s furious look head on with a long staunch stare of his own. Slowly Jacob gave way, yielding his gaze by turning his attention downward towards the uneven tabletop. But even at that he could still feel his uncle’s eyes burning into him, and he knew he had to be mighty displeased. “But that’s no reason for him to purposely spoil everything!” he steamed angrily. “He just had to punish me for breaking his vase, even though it was only an accident. I should’ve expected something like this!”
At length Uncle Clair slid a chair out from under the table and spun it around. Then as if mounting a horse he straddled it, resting his arms on its back. “I know sometimes I seem to be hard on you,” he now said surprisingly soft, “but it’s for your own good. Remember the time when you wanted to ride that seven month old calf and I told you not to?”
“Yeah,” replied Jacob, fighting back a grin, “I did it anyway and got thrown off on my stomach, and then it treaded on my hiney.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” exclaimed Uncle Clair, slapping his hand against the backside of the chair. “When you listened to me in the past, even when you didn’t understand the reason why, you always avoided trouble right? I only tell you these things straight out to help; otherwise you’d have to deal with the unpleasant consequences. But this time I’m glad we could clear it up before you went and snagged yourself a real problem.” He gave Jacob a wink and then quickly stood to attend to their burning breakfast.
Upset and unsure about what they had just cleared up, Jacob picked up his fork and began to scratch his head with its prongs. Unhappy over the outcome he watched his uncle discarding pieces of charred bacon and mournfully thought, “Since he seems content with it, maybe I’d best just give it a rest and not start up another squabble; otherwise he’ll never let me go.”
After rushing through his breakfast, Jacob dashed outside heading to their red rickety barn where his faithful horse Mildew was stabled. As he sprinted across the barnyard, passing by the chicken coup, the pigpen, the horse’s corral, and the busted wagon, he noticed the wind picking up and his farm animals once more crying out, as if his very presence had set everything off again. “By golly this is real strange,” he pondered, “I’ve never seen them this jumpy before? But I’ve got no time to worry about that now!”
Charging ahead, he dashed into their dark crooked old barn running as fast as his legs could carry him. He could see Mildew in the corner with her black coat glowing from threads of sunbeams leaking down through narrow cracks in the roof and walls. Mildew was an old mare with a sagging back. Too old to run or trot, he rode her for only short distances, but in her day she had been a great horse, and perhaps one of the fastest racing horses that had ever lived. He recalled stories of how she had beat every horse in the territory and how her previous owner had cruelly frittered her away with years of harsh neglect. But since last year, after they had acquired her, Mildew was his horse, and he was more than proud to own a real racing legend.
As he drew near Mildew responded with a shrill whinny that surprised him, and he began to worry that she too might be infected with the same panic that had frightened the other animals. But not wanting to believe it possible, he pushed the notion out of his head and continued to draw closer. “After all she’s well accustomed to my daily rides and maybe she’s just acting anxious for another one,” he reasoned, finding it easy enough to explain away. Mildew backed up, pressing against the barn wall, as Jacob took her blanket and saddle from off a nearby post. Unexpectedly she began to kick out her hind legs, acting as if she was a feisty colt again. But despite her odd behavior, her age had slowed her down enough to easily stay a step ahead. His motions were swift and deliberate, and his progress steady, but even at that by the time he had finished saddling her it had taken much longer than normal, delaying his departure even more.
“Of all the mornings to act up on! Couldn’t you at least show me some consideration,” he complained, at last pulling hard on her reins to force her past the twisted barn doors and out into the open yard. Anxious to get started, he reached up, grabbed the saddle horn, and kicked up his leg sliding smoothly up into the saddle. Once comfortable, he began to nudge her sides with his feet, while turning his head back towards the farmhouse. As usual Uncle Clair was peering at him through the kitchen window and waving good bye. He returned a hearty wave and Mildew once again let outa sudden and frightened whinny. For the first time ever she began to buck. He instinctively pulled back on the reins and tightened his grip on the saddle horn, holding on until she finally settled back down.
“Don’t worry girl, because whatever you’re afraid of I’m here with you,” he said in a soothing voice, attempting to calm her down. Without any further fray she at last plodded ahead, and mindful of his unlucky morning Jacob felt grateful to be heading out. Gently he reached down and patted her on the neck, his respect for her past more than made up for any flaws in her sluggish step. “That a girl,” he said, finding it odd that she, along with the other animals were acting so strange.
It wasn’t long before Mildew clomped over the old timber-bridge that stretched out across the Chatter River, and once again Jacob focused his thoughts on the impending task ahead. He stared down blankly through the thin open slits that spaced evenly between thick wooden planks, watching the smooth blue water list by as he began to imagine in his mind’s eye how his day would develop. The scene of his arrival played out in his mind, and he saw himself arriving with everybody welcoming him.
“Glad you could make it Frost,” he heard a classmate say, while another classmate waved at him with a big friendly smile.
“Glad to be here,” he replied.
Reaching the rim of the embankment he instinctively pulled the reins to the side, and guided Mildew off the end of the bridge onto a narrow dirt road that followed the winding edge of the river. As his wishful trance continued he saw himself joining in the fun by smartly diving into the water with his shirt on. His classmates were oddly staring at him in surprise. Noticing a sudden change in their disposition stirred him instantly back to reality, and he awoke from his day dream recalling Uncle Clair’s unfair demand.
“By-gum, swimming with my shirt on,” he mumbled, as he prodded Mildew irritably with his feet, “is pure baloney! Uncle Clair knows how important this is to me! It’s the first time I’ve ever been invited to do anything with them and for sure they’ll think I’m an oddball.”
He knew that if his classmates ever found any excuse to belittle him they would, torturing him with callous heckling and making it impossible to make any new friends.
As he rounded a familiar bend nested deep in cottonwood trees, his heart began to nervously pound. Up ahead he could see the old magnetic swimming hole that had all summer long attracted his classmates like ants swarming to a candy apple. Free from the dense undergrowth that crowded both sides of the riverbank, the small open inlet bordered up against a thin sandy beach. To the side stood a tall diving tree with thick leafy branches that extended well out over the water, and underneath the tree’s shore side trunk were horses sloppily tied off to scrubby bushes. His classmates were already in the river splashing noisily with their shirts off.
“I’m always running late,” he mumbled disappointed. “Seems like things always start without me.”
Up high in the tall tree stood Derrick Striker, a dim-witted oversized bully known for a large distorted dark mole that sprouted under a nostril. To Jacob, Derrick’s repulsive blotch was the most sapless thing that he had ever seen, a blemish of unequal appearance; so freakishly dry and beefy that it would catch your attention as easily as a skunk sprayed dog wandering into a barbershop. And even though Derrick acted like a thick-skinned bully, when it came down to his over sized mole he was as prickly as spoiled baby crying out for a diaper change. Any naive newcomer that laid eyes on the lump would naturally mistake it for an immense bugger, and thoughtfully suggest to Derrick that he wipe it off. Without fail Derrick’s eyes would tear over, followed closely by his fists pounding out unexpected blows to their faces.
Clutching onto an overhead branch, Derrick sluggishly jumped up and down on a thick bough, with his portly stomach flopping in succession. Curious, Jacob brought Mildew to a stop and continued to sit astride her, closely watching Derrick attempt his dive. At last, at the end of the tenth bounce, Derrick squatted and the seams of his pants bulged outward to near busting, the tree limb bent low, nearly breaking in half, and the powerful limb lingered at its lowest point, frozen by the tremendous weight of the load. All eyes were fixed upon him, as slowly the branch sprang upward. He leapt into the air, and cried out with a thunderous braying howl, “Waaaaaaa! Here I come!” Then, similar to a free falling rock he punched into the water flat on his belly. A “SLAP,” boomed, echoing up and down the river and a massive splash sent a series of waves rippling over the water’s surface to lap against the sandy beach. From a nearby cluster of bushes frightened flock of birds shot into the sky quickly disappearing off over the trees.
Stunned by such a bungled dive, Jacob dismounted shaking his head and feeling more confident than ever. With his skill he knew he could easily out-shine Derrick and quickly win everybody’s admiration. “They’ll soon see how well I can dive,” he anxiously bragged to himself, as he carefully tied Mildew’s reins off to a branch. “After this morning’s breath taking dive, this will be a cake walk!”
At last his big moment had finally arrived, and eagerly he removed his shoes and socks. Then standing up straight he reached down with both hands and grabbed the bottom of his shirt, hesitating for only a moment as he watched his classmates playfully splashing in the water. A calm breeze whipped over the inlet, and he could feel the cool gust blow across his skin. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, while all remaining traces of Uncle Clair’s ridiculous punishment faded from his mind. He thought only of new friendships, peacefully enjoying every second of this very special moment. At last he would be joining in without being scoffed at, no more painful neglect or annoying snickering behind his back. It was his time to fit in just like everybody else. Overjoyed to be there he peeled off his shirt tossing it to the side, and started digging his toes into the dirt to position himself for a running dive. He looked ahead at the splashing bodies, scanning for a clear spot, and noticed that his classmates were beginning to stare his way. One by one they each came to a surprising stop, and the rippling water slowly began to change into a smooth calm surface. An eerie silence drifted over the inlet, while their wide gaping eyes molested his ultimate moment of delight. Frozen on each of their faces was a dumbfounded expression of surprise and shock, which strangely reminded him of the morning’s bizarre reactions from his farm animals.
Meanwhile, still oblivious to Jacob’s presence, Derrick was casually wading knee-deep through the water, again making his way towards the diving tree. The ruffian pulled at his pants that hung half way down, and then glanced to the side, instantly spotting Jacob. All at once the cold silence broke, and in concert everyone exploded in loud roars of piercing laughter.
“Look at Jacob’s stomach! He’s a freak,” hollered Derrick, pointing with his fat hand.
“What’s wrong with my stomach?” questioned Jacob, stunned by the brutality of their rudeness. He glanced down at his stomach, looked up at Derrick’s portly abdomen, and then looked towards his classmates’ bellies, immediately spotting a real difference. His heart began to pound faster and harder, as true panic ignited in his mind, “This has to be a bad dream, it can’t be real!”
Close to tears he turned and rushed to gather up his clothes. With his shoes and shirt in one hand he ripped Mildew’s reins from out of the tree and mounted her, briskly kicking her sides, wanting nothing more than to quickly disappear. But Mildew responded back by bucking and almost throwing him off again, until finally she gave way and started forward at her usual slow step, which for her was as fast as she could go. Jacob could hear their loud cries of laughter echoing through the branches of the trees, and with each offensive snicker he cringed, sinking lower and lower into his saddle until at last he had traveled out of earshot.
“Of all the dumb, dad-burndest, gummed up. rottenest luck in the whole dad-gum wide world, this has gotta be the worst day ever,” he angrily muttered. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way! So what’s so wrong with having two bellybuttons? I can’t be the only one!”