saw on a telephone wire and we were forced to follow.
“You realize what this means, don’t you?” Pete asked me as we
walked back towards our house.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes I do.” We had made contact with the naked
gardener, and it was all thanks to Olive’s bladder.
***
The next day my mom was shocked to find Pete and me herding
Olive to the front door for our walk without having nagged us to do so
even once.
“Wow, you guys,” my mom said. “You’re really taking charge with
this walking job, aren’t you?” She beamed with pride as we set out for our
walk excitedly, planning to head directly for the home of our nudist drugdealing neighbor.
As we approached Mr. Dutrey’s house, we prayed fervently that he
would be lurking around outside again. We slowed to a crawl in front of
his driveway, and were thrilled to hear him cursing in his open garage as
bits and pieces of car flew about an old Chevy.
“Hey Mr. Dutrey!” my brother called. “Need some help?”
“Who’s there?” Mr. Dutrey answered, his shirtless body appearing
from underneath the car, face smudged with black. Recognition registered
beneath the grease and he invited us into the garage, the walls of which
were covered in posters of half-naked women.
“Wow. You guys came over! Come on, come on kids. Welcome
to my guy hole! Bring the cat in, come on.” Pete handed me Olive’s leash
and led the way into the garage. I followed hesitantly behind, reluctant
to accept my invitation into the “guy hole.” My curiosity for Mr. Dutrey,
however, was too much to stay outside. He was now leaning against the
open hood of the old Chevy. His dog ran out from the house, and I let
Olive go so they could sniff each other.
“This, kids, is where I come when the Mrs. gets to be too much,”
he said with a chuckle. “You know what I mean, bud, don’t ya?” he asked
my thirteen-year-old brother, ruffling his hair. Pete laughed and nodded
aggressively in false understanding. Dutrey then returned his attention to
the car, picked up a wrench and started hitting a piece of the engine with
it.
“Say, did I ever tell you kids about my trip to Africa?”
“No,” we said together, intrigued and ready for a good story.
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