The Anti-Waldo

Val has a monkey on her back. And in her pocket. And under her feet. And all over her.

Well...not so much a monkey...as HICK.

No matter where I go or what I do, there's Hick. It's uncanny. He can track me down any time of day. In any location. He should be one of those people-finders. All he'd have to do would be put a little Val scent on the folks he was tracking. He always gets his woman.

Wednesday, for example. He woke me with the thump of his left ham-arm across my torso when the alarm went off. Okay. So it's not hard to find Val when she's sleeping in the same bed right next to Hick. But we're only just beginning. After his shower, he found me in the La-Z-Boy. Still not much of a challenge. But after waking me to say how much he hates his job (more like hates being told what to do), and after feeding the dogs and making his breakfast, he came BACK to tell me some more how much he hates his job.

At school, between the time I arrived and the time I turned off my phone to start class, Hick sent me a text that he loves me. Yeah, yeah. I figured that. Or he would have hit the highway long ago. At lunch, Hick sent me another text wishing me a good day. At 3:30, he called to tell me he was on the way home to meet the roofer about another estimate on our hail-shingles.

When The Pony and I got home, here came Hick. Right into the garage as The Pony was trying to smuggle in a gift for him to hide under his bed. Good thing I had made him wrap it up in my coat. To stall Hick from opening up the back of T-Hoe, just trying to help, The Pony loaded his arms with lunch sack, backpack, school bag, and my purse, plus the mail and a loose physics book. "Dad. Can you get this door for me? I don't have a hand to turn the doorknob."

Distracted, Hick went to open the garage people-door. He came back and opened up the passenger door of T-Hoe. "That's okay. We can get it."

"All right. I'm going to fill up a box with wood for Genius. He wants to make a bonfire Saturday night. We'll take it to him." Because there is no wood in college town, I suppose. Even at a rental house with a large yard and trees all around the back.

I went inside. The Pony smuggled the gift. I changed clothes and was putting a load of laundry into the washer when Hick walked in.

"Oh. There you are again."

"Yeah."

"Well, I haven't started supper yet. I just got home. I was putting in this laundry. I was going to read the mail. And now here you are again."

"Okay. I'll go back outside."

As soon as supper was done, I sent Hick a text. Wednesday is Survivor night for Val and The Pony. We take our meal down to the basement in our haste to watch our show. "Supper is ready. I'm out of the kitchen. Genius sent a letter. It's on the counter." Hick had wanted to make his own supper of eggs he wrestled out of the mouths of Poor Dumb Ann and Sweet, Sweet Juno, along with leftover Thanksgiving ham.

I took my meal down to my dark basement lair. No sooner had I fired up my New Delly and taken a bite than there was Hick. Standing behind me. Not quite as stealthy as The Sidler. In no need of TicTacs in his pocket. Because I had heard his footless ankles stumping down each of the 13 steps.

"That Genius! I KNEW I was right about his typewriter."

"Yeah." Heavy sigh.

"What?"

"It's just that...you're always around me. I need some time to decompress. Some alone time. I've been around people all day. It's like I can't get away from you."

"Oh. Okay." Stump stump stump stump stump stump stump stump stump stump stump stump stump.

He's gonna hafta CHILL when we both retire. He's like the Anti-Waldo.

HERE'S WALDO.