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Sam's chair crackled when he sat down in it. Beth, engrossed in the X-Files, semed not to notice as Sam fished a map out from underneath the cushion. This one was a street map of Mobile, Alabama.
Sam: What's this? Beth glanced his way, then returned her attention to the television. Beth: It's a map, Sam. You of all people should know what a map looks like. Sam: Why is it in the chair? Beth: Dunno, Sam...ssshh, Hewey. Sam sighed gustily. He should have known better than to try and talk to her during her program. He could have stalked through the room stark naked wearing sleigh bells on a certain portion of his anatomy - she'd have asked him to make sure the bells were quiet. Sam tossed the map into the box that it had come to him in, and he wandered off to their shared office. As he passed Beth, he scrambled her curls gently. She didn't look up. Beth: Jesus Christopher, Hewey! What's wrong??? The following morning...Hewey's mournful howling dragged Beth out of a sound sleep. The wind gusted against the house and rattled the windows in their frames. The bedside clock read 8:30 - one thing to be said for self-employment, there was no getting up at the crack of dawn. On the other hand, Hewey was proving to be better than an alarm clock. Beth: Hewey...what's wrong, sweetie? In Sam's white terrycloth bathrobe Beth knelt beside the dog, took the blunt head in her hands and looked into his eyes. Sam was withdrawing a map from the frozen waffle box - Fairbanks, Alaska and suburbs. He crumpled it and came to Beth's side, opened the cupboard under the sink, and shoved the map into the trashbasket. Beth saw the problem right away. Beth: Oh, Hewey...you lookin' for Boo-Boo Bear? How did he get in the trash? Sam: You talkin' about that filthy thing he drags around? Damn thing smells and he's chewed the shit out of it! Beth fished the bear out of the garbage and Hewey immediately shut down. His eyes fastened on the bear and never left it as Beth bore it across to the laundry room. Hewey prepared to fire up again when he saw Beth drop the bear into the washing machine, but she calmed him. Beth: Just gonna give Boo-Boo Bear a bath, Hewey. Then I'll sew him up and you can have him back again. Mean old Daddy, to throw Boo-Boo Bear in the trash, right? Sam spilled half a box of cereal trying to pull a map of Boca Raton out of it. Hewey bolted from the laundry room, began snarfing up the spilled mueslix, Boo-Boo Bear consigned to the bath for the moment. Sam: What the hell is going on with all of these maps? Beth snatched the map out of Sam's hand, spilling all the cereal that had fallen down inside it on the floor. Beth: Think that one's mine, Sammy. Beth began muttering to herself as she unfolded the map on the kitchen counter Beth: Royal Palm Polo Club . . . Royal Palm... Sam decided to make do with a cup of coffee, and poured some of the ferociously black stuff he brewed every morning. As he turned to go to the office and take up his day's business, he looked to Beth, purely bewildered. Sam: What in holy hell is a Boo-Boo Bear? Hewey's head snapped up and he gave a short bark. Sam: And don't call me Daddy! Hewey unrolled his tongue, panted. When the pack leader started talking 'Daddy', Hewey got to go fetch the ball until he was tired. It would keep him busy until Mama got Boo-Boo Bear out of the bath. Beth kept her eyes strictly focused on the map, but she was about a split second away from helpless giggles. Hewey never seemed to fail to get the better of Sam. Sam: Somebody wants to tell me who sent me these goddam maps! Beth had joined Sam in the office, Hewey positioning himself under her desk in such a way that she could wedge her toes under the big dog's body and keep them warm. Sam had opened the soft briefcase he had taken to carrying things in and had extracted his files...to find each one with its individual map. Beth heard the familiar sound of Sam's big fingers drumming restlessly against the desktop. Sam: I'm gonna find out who did this with these maps. And I'm gonna kick their ass up-straddle their neck. Hewey groaned and stretched. He seemed concerned. Beth soldiered on in silence, looking up to find Sam staring somewhere into the middle distance, fingers caressing the black heart-shaped hematite stone that Beth had had custom mounted on a key clip and given him for their first Christmas together. He had booted up his computer, the fax machine had already spit out two love notes from Cosmo, and he had forgotten his outrage in the face of the work. Beth was content. Sam: Baby... Bzzzz... Sam: What the...? Bzzzz...it sounded like Sam's pager, set to vibrate, only much more obnoxious than any pager on vibrate had ever sounded to Beth. Drawers opened and shut. Repeatedly. Sam: Honey, you have any idea where my beeper is? Beth had re-immersed herself in the webpage she was designing. Bzzzz... Beth: Huh? Sam: My pager? Bzzzz... Sam: Have you seen it? Beth: Seen what? Bzzzz... Sam's voice, deadly patient. Sam: My. Pager. Where is it? Beth looked up from her work. Beth: I'm trying to get something done... Bzzzz.... Beth: What in the world is that noise? Black hematite stone forgotten, Sam's fingers were churning through his hair. Bzzzz.... Sam: My pager. Beth: Well, for cryin' out loud, answer it! Bzzzz... Hewey erfed, muffled under the desk. The noise was definitely getting to the dog. Sam made a last run through the drawers, to no avail...then had a small stroke of luck. The back of his hand brushed the casing of the hard drive as the buzzing noise sounded again. Sam: I'll be damned. Beth raised her head, pulling at all her experience as an actress to convince the linear, literal Sam that she hadn't been paying his search much attention. In truth, while she had no idea where the pager was, she could just about guess who had planted it. Some people needed governments to fall and anarchy to reign, and if they weren't and it wasn't, then they needed to go provide for those things, or else they got into trouble. Beth: What now...Sam, what are you doing, that thing's under warranty! Sam was unscrewing the hard drive casing with a small phillips screwdriver. The cheerful buzzing had continued unabated, and it sounded again as Sam lifted the gently curved plastic off the Hewlett-Packard to reveal the guts of the machine. He snatched at something and the buzzing stopped. He snatched at something else...and Beth saw a map in his hands. Beth: Where was that? Sam: Inside the hard drive...Silicon Valley's been highlighted on this one. Who'd do this...? Man...I have a headache. Beth was solicitous. Sam with a headache was not an easy thing to be around. She rose and followed him to the master bath. He could certainly get his own aspirin, but maybe with a combination of honeyed words and the strategic laying on of hands, she could convince him to lie down and let the painkiller do its work while she made a sweep of the house and gathered up the rest of the diabolically hidden maps. Their dual vanity had an ingenious setup, she thought. The mirror behind it appeared to be made up of three separate sheets of glass. There had been a logical reason for this when Beth'd had them installed - three smaller sheets of glass were less expensive than one continuous one and it had the same effect. But then Sam had asked where the medicine chest was. Beth had pictured the little cabinet in her apartment. Once Sam's cologne and shaving soap and toothpaste and whatnots had started competing for space with her own, she'd sometimes had trouble closing it. In response to Sam's question, then, she'd had two separate cabinets installed - one for her, and one for him. He was heading for his side, where he kept the triple strength Anacin he preferred over her Tylenol. Beth followed, rubbing him soothingly between the shoulderblades with light fingers. She had discovered that the same tactic often calmed Hewey. Sam reached for the door... Sam: Jesus H. Tap-dancing Christ! Sam stood motionless as an unknown number of maps cascaded out of the cabinet and across the vanity, down onto the floor. Beth had missed by many years the radio adventures of Fibber McGee and Molly but she had heard about the closet...and now she had seen what the writers must have been aiming for when they set up the joke. She leaned against Sam's back, laughing soundlessly. Sam: It had to be Strannix. And the damn maps came from some outfit in Minneapolis...Deb. Sam whipped around, withdrawing his support and nearly sending Beth sprawling. Sam: You sure you didn't have anything to do with this? Beth struggled mightily, wiped the smirk off her face. Beth: Would I do such a thing? Sam stopped, raised her chin with a big hand and looked down into her achingly innocent face. Sam: Deal with you later. Come on... Meantime, over at Rancho Deluxe, the collection of strays was growing... Beth: The Big Dog has entered the building. Deb: Oh shit. I hope you mean Hewey. Sam: Want a word with you. Deb: It wasn't me! I danced away from the inexorably advancing Sam, putting first the kitchen center island and then Elmore between us. Elmore: Hey, Sam! Here, y'want this? Deb: Elmore, you rat! Sam bent me over his knee and administered several mild swats across the backside. Sam: If you're gonna send me maps, at least make 'em maps I can use. Christ, what's this Barcelona shit. Out of my jurisdiction. Where's Strannix? Deb: Doing something nefarious in the workshed. The llama is in love with him. Stares at him whenever she can. Sam: Llama...? Elmore was shaking his head as he busied himself emptying a jar of cookies. Elmore: Damn old hairy thing follows 'im around an' bawls at 'im. Deb: Beth, you need to see something.... I led her into the den and headed for a desk drawer. Opening it, I removed a couple of picture frames. Deb: I don't know if you've ever seen these, I just found them when we moved. Beth took the two picture frames from me and a sweet smile crossed her face as she looked at them. One was a formal portrait of Bill as he had appeared about the time he graduated from the Academy, the other was a more casual shot, probably a couple of years older than the first one. Beth: No, I've never seen either one of these. Where were they? Deb: In a box, shoved into the very back of Elmore's closet. There were a few other things in it...the kind of things a mother might save as the child outgrows them. Beth: Bet that's where that little Christmas stocking you told me about was hidden. But he'll never let you hang them. Specially not the one in the uniform. Deb: Oh, I know that. But...for as gorgeous as he was then... I looked out the den window at the workshed. Bill was hanging his head out of the shed window and bawling something we couldn't hear at the hopelessly smitten llama. She applied her tongue to his cheek. Deb: ...I think I like him better now. To think that this little guy turned himself into that... I shivered once, then tucked the photos away again. We rejoined Sam and Elmore in the kitchen. Beth: But you could see the animal magnetism even then. Deb: He only seems to be able to attract animals now. Look at him...couple of peahens, Woodrow, Dolly Llama out there... Sam: Dolly? Beth made it a point to look out the patio door, watching the two little men installing the hot-tub water line. I shoved my head into the pantry in search of some elusive something or another. Deb: Sod's coming later this week. Elmore was out all day yesterday tearing up the yard with a rototiller. Elmore had wandered away with his cookies, to study some automobile literature he had picked up someplace. Most of the literature had words like Corvette and Mustang and TransAm on it, so it was pretty obvious he was going to indulge himself again. His absence made it possible for Beth to react. Her voice was faint. Sam didn't seem to hear her at all - he was still pondering the mystery of Dolly's name. Beth: Elmore...rototiller... I could imagine what she was thinking...Elmore's religiously well maintained physique involved in the use of a rototiller, a notoriously difficult piece of equipment on untilled ground. Deb: Yes, ma'am. Rototiller. Had me hoppin' all morning with bottles of water...boy had to pee so bad he could've floated a battleship...Beth? She went over as silently as a tree in the woods, thumped down beside the center island and lay there, muttering things like 'rototiller' and 'Jesus wept'. Sam jumped over to give her a hand up. Sam: Okay, honey? Beth: Saints preserve us...a rototiller... Sam: You see her hit her head? Deb: Something else hit her. Beth: I was reaching for something and I...uh...I slipped. That's it, I slipped. Sam: Dolly Llama! Very funny, you two. Deb: Took you long enough. Sam: You wanna talk about some maps again? Beth had grabbed Bill's running chore list off the fridge and was busily writing on it. The list had become a sort of in house gag since I'd put it up after we moved in, and now every time Beth saw it she had two or three more outrageous things to add to it. Beth: Transfer funds to account number....there. And retile the second guest bathroom. Deb: Oh, you're evil. Beth: Sometimes I have to flex my...muscles...rototiller... Elmore had wandered back in, and this had prompted her attempt to collapse. He caught her easily and leaned her against his hip until she looked capable of standing. Elmore: You gonna make it, darlin'? Beth: I think so. Elmore: You need help, you just holler. Beth: I will, Elmore. Elmore had left the room before I said anything. Deb: Then he and Sam will get stuck in the door and Bill will haul ass in from the back and take care of you. Beth: Speaking of Bill...he have his cellphone with him? Deb: Doesn't let it out of his sight since the time you changed one of his speed-dials to the USMS office in Dallas. Beth: Almost forgot about that one...how'd it go over? Deb: Like a fart in church. Three o'clock in the morning he goes to call this fool...started out in high gear and was winding out...then he realized he was talking to a cop. Oh...the language. And he knew it was you because I don't know how to program the speed-dial on that phone. He was halfway out the door before he remembered you were at the cabin and he wasn't sure how to get there. Beth was laughing as she went to pick up the phone on the island. She waved me quiet, drew a deep, steadying breath and summoned up the drawl to end all drawls as she dialed the cellphone's number. As she waited for him to answer, she began to sing in a bad Vegas lounge lizard style that brought Sam to the kitchen, wondering if she needed a doctor. Beth: I'm in the mood for love, simply because you're...pick it up, Strannix...funny but when you're near me... She punched the speakerphone button and motioned fiercely at me for silence. Elmore stepped up behind me and slid a large, gentle hand over my mouth. I grinned up into his face and he grinned down into mine. Billy: Strannix. Talk. Beth dived in... Beth: Mr. Strannix? Mr William Strannix? Billy: Who d'ya think, Bill Gates? I said talk. Beth: Mr Strannix, this is Gloria from the Exotic Pet Emporium, and I'm callin' this afternoon to let you know that we're gonna be a couple of days late with your llama. Bill's voice was flat. Billy: My llama. Beth: Yes, sir. The male llama to go with your female. Bill spoke very carefully. Very slowly. The voice he sometimes used with me when I was being unusually thick. Billy: I don't want any damn male llama. Matter of fact, I want you to come out here and get the goddam thing you already dumped on me. Beth was turning red, but holding on. Beth: Aw, Mr. Strannix, I'm so sorry, but we have a 72-hour return or exchange policy on all our animals and you've had her longer than that. Now...Mr Strannix? Billy: What. Beth: Is that...I'm hearing something in the background. Is that the llama making that moaning noise? Billy: Damn hairball never quits. I staggered over, locked the two back doors. Bill was going to come in like the Fifth Armored when he figured out he was being had. Successfully. Again. Beth: Oh, Mr. Strannix. From my years of llama experience, I can tell you that you have a very upset and amorous llama on your hands. That is very definitely the sound of llama distress. I started to lose it. I covered it up...I tried...but I knew almost from the beginning that it was going to get away from me. Billy: Llama. Distress. I could give a rat's ass... Beth plowed onward, making violent motions at Sam and Elmore to shut me up. She faked a coughing fit, to cover up her own laughter. Beth: Excuse me. Now, Mr. Strannix, what y'all need to do is give the llama a reassuring neck massage. Start out under the chin and work your way down in slow counterclockwise motions to the chest. That was it. Deb: Bwha-ha-ha-ha-ha...shit, he won't even do that for me, let alone a llama...! Billy: Goddammit! That you, pipsqueak? Beth had generations of actors to follow...even when the show is bombing, keep it up... Beth: Go ahead, Mr. Strannix. I'll wait on the phone while you're doing that. There was no particular response, just frenzied cursing. Billy: I get my hands on you, Shrimp, you're gonna need a neck brace! Beth could no longer keep it up. She collapsed into manaical laughter across the top of the island. Elmore let me thump down onto the floor while he reached over to hang up the phone. Elmore: He's comin'. Beth and I stood up, listening to the back door rattle loudly in its frame. Woodrow jumped up from a sound sleep and let off one of his huge barks. Augustus, who couldn't be bothered, stretched to take up the entire dog bed. Billy: Somebody open the goddamn door or I'm gonna put my fist through it. Beth and I took to eyeing the door and then each other, to decide when to be ready to run. I was still trying to picture Bill giving this lovesick animal a neck rub. Billy: I'm not kiddin' around out here!! Will you shut the hell up, you ugly throw rug?! Beth: It's always so much fun at your house, Deb. Deb: Beats Six Flags. Elmore took it upon himself to undo the lock and Bill blew past him. Woodrow stepped out, followed by Augustus. Elmore neglected to close the door. Bill stopped, not sure which of us was in the most trouble. Before he could get a word out, cloven hooves began to cross the kitchen tile. Dolly had broken out of her pen and had followed her one and only. Deb: Oh, no...don't look now. Beth exploded into laughter as Dolly took her place behind Bill. This was as close as she had ever been allowed to get to her chosen mate. She nuzzled his neck, tried to munch on his hair. Bill jerked clear and turned around. Billy: Jesus H. Christ! Dolly saw her chance and licked Bill's nose. Billy: Goddammit, you stinkin' jumped up piece-a shag carpet! I reached weakly, attempted to take hold of Dolly's collar and lead her back out to her pen. She eyed me, spat at me, and moved closer to Billy. Beth: Ewwwww! Gross! Deb: The things we do for love. Looks like I have some competition. Billy: Somebody get this damn thing outa my face! Beth started to sing again, in a cracked voice that made her last attempt sound like a heavenly choir. Beth: Love . . . love will keep us together . . . Didn't take me long at all to catch on... Deb: Love...look at the two of us...strangers in every way... Elmore was leaning against the door, grinning. Beth: Looooooooooooove . . . is a many splendored thing... Billy: Will. You. Two. Shut. Up. I was about to flirt with disaster. Deb: She's an easy lover...she'll get a hold on you believe it... Beth's grin stretched further across her face. Beth: Like no other . . . before you know it, you'll be on your knees ...You'll be on your kneeees She cut loose with a Phil screech, which made Bill flinch. Deb: : She's an easy lover...she'll take your heart but you won't feel it... Billy: That's it...I can't listen to shit from that little pipsqueak... Billy grabbed hold of Dolly and began to herd her back outside. Deb: Who, Dolly? Beth: No, Phil. Bill hates him. Deb: Rather poetic. Bill hates Phil. After a great deal of scuffling, Bill returned, looking for revenge. As soon as he came in, Beth latched onto him. Beth: You called me from the room in your hotel... Billy: Get off me! Deb: All full of romance for someone that you'd met... Dead Eye Bill started for me, dragging Beth along. Deb: Maybe Two Hearts would be more...apropos. Two hearts livin' in just one mind...that works...Billy and Dolly... Beth: ...sittin' in a tree...k-i-s-s-i-n-g... Billy: Oh, that's it. Bill wheeled around, snared Beth in a headlock and pinned her to his side. Elmore, as always, was doubled over. Sam appeared as an interested observer, but no way intending to bail Beth out of the mess she had got herself into. When she spoke, her voice was partially muffled by the Naughty One's ribcage. Beth: Saaaaaaaaaaam! He's pickin' on me! Sam: Sounded to me like he ought to've muzzled you. Shit, woman! Easy now, she's just a little thing. Deb: Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near...blah-blah- blah-bullshit-bullshit-bullshit...YOWCH! Bill reached out with his free arm and yanked me into a headlock. Deb: Beth?...Wedgie? Beth: By all means. I snaked my fingers down the back of Bill's jeans and hooked onto the waistband of his jockeys. I hauled the elastic out and Beth grabbed on. Both of us yanked. Bill tossed us both backward. Bill: Kee-rist! What the hell you doin'? Deb: Bill Strannix, Boy Soprano! His fidgeting spoke volumes. Elmore sank to the floor, wiping at his eyes and nose with a large handkerchief. Beth bounded across the room, managing a gentle touch to Elmore's head as she circled the island. She slipped behind Sam, her hands at his waist. Sam looked down into her insanely grinning face, and an answering grin spread across his. Sam: You got a crush on me? Beth: I just think it's so much safer back here. Billy was busy adjusting his underpinnings and tucking things back where they belonged. Billy: You ain't gonna be safe in a damn Sherman tank! Deb: While I walk Rancho Strannix in perfect security now that I have the celebrated Wedgie-Matic. I held up two fingers and waggled them in Billy's face. His reply was to approach me, taking incredibly slow and deliberate steps, cracking his knuckles as he came. Deb: Now, Billy... He continued to stalk me, and I started backing up, looking for an escape route. Deb: Would an abject apology save me now? Billy ran me into a corner, dropping his now limbered up fingers to the ticklish spot below my ribs. He could have chosen any spot on my entire body, but he liked the ribs. He dropped his voice as well, into its lowest register. Deb: Now...Bill... Billy: You're. Dead. Meat. He grabbed me then, in full tickle force. I started to shriek. Deb: Ow...no...mercy...help...police... Beth jabbed Sam in the back. Beth: Ain't you a cop? Sam: Last time I checked, why? Beth: She was calling for backup. Sam: Out of my jurisdiction. Sam began to lead Beth out to the car. They heard the continuing sounds of torture, accompanied by Elmore's laughter, from the kitchen. Billy: You two need to find something to do to occupy your time. 'Stead of buggin' the shit outa me. Deb: But you're so full of it... Beth looked over her shoulder, to see Deb running for her life, and glancing behind her to see if Bill was in pursuit. Bill, grinning madly, thundered after her. Business as usual, Beth reflected, turning a soft smile on Sam. Business as usual. TO BE CONTINUED...
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