Mayor Hilbish
By Vincent Pumilia
Copyright 2011 Vincent Pumilia
Smashwords Edition
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Chapter 09 To Read, Not Impede
Chapter 10 The Grand High Bobble-de-boo
Chapter 14 The Tumbling Tomkos
Chapter 16 Nightmare on Main Street
Chapter 21 Relatives Past and Present
Chapter 27 The Malodorous Poet
Chapter 30 Welcome to Chocolate Mooseville
Home of the World's Largest Moose With a Hole In It
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Pete Hilbish was a young lawyer in the big city law firm of Steele, Phibb and Finagle. He was a workaholic, a dynamo dedicated to his career. Pete never rested, he never tired. He even worked while he was on vacation.
One day Pete was summoned to Mr. Steele’s office.
“Pete, I have an assignment for you. Have you ever heard of Blubberville?” queried Pete’s bespectacled boss.
“I can’t say that I have, Mr. Steele. Why do you ask?”
“Because that’s where you’re going.
“The mayor of that town, James Nicely, came to me the other day with one of his small town problems. It seems that his neighbors in the next town has placed a dumpster on the boundary line that separates them. The trash is accumulating on his side of the boundary and, according to the mayor, it is being done out of malice. If they can’t be convinced to relocate the dumpster Mayor Nicely wants to take them to court and he wants us to represent his town.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I never kid.”
“Doesn’t the town have its own attorney?”
“No, and from what I deduce the mayor works without any staff at all.”
“Do you really want to bother with such insignificance?”
“Think of it as community service,” said Mr. Steele. “That rube came to us for help and he’s going to get it. After we win the case we’ll run an ad campaign saying that we care so much about the community that we’ll even go to a small town like Blubberville and fight for the little guy there. When you arrive you can inform the mayor that we’ll be handling the case pro bono. That will really make us look good!”
Mr. Steele handed Pete a folder.
“Included with your papers are the directions to Blubberville. Town Hall is on Main Street and there are directions to the mayor’s house, depending on when you arrive. I suggest you get a map of its county to be safe. Finding this town will be like a needle in a haystack!”
Before Pete departed he took a look at a photograph on Mr. Steele’s desk.
“Is this a new picture of Mrs. Steele?”
“Yes, she just sent me this photo from Barbados.”
“She looks happy.”
“Of course she’s happy!” Mr. Steele replied angrily. “She’s lolling around on tropical islands spending my money! I’d like to get rid of the pasty-faced harridan!”
“You’re kidding!”
“Like I said, Pete, I never kid!”
One Pete’s way back to his office another lawyer spoke to him.
“Another assignment?” he queried.
“I’m going to Blubberville.”
“What’s that, a fast food restaurant?”
“No, Bart, but that would be a good name for one. It’s a town I’m being sent to.”
“Anything important?”
“It’s a trivial matter; it should be an easy win.”
Pete wasn’t driving for too long before he had to slam on the brakes to avoid a minor accident.
The other driver honked his horn and Pete rolled down his window.
“Get off the road, you idiot!” he shouted.
Pete made the long drive to Mayor Nicely’s home.
“Hello, Mayor Nicely? I’m Pete Hilbish of Steele, Phibb and Finagle. I was assigned your case concerning the dumpster and the litter accumulating in your town.”
Pete was invited in.
“Did you have any trouble finding your way here?” asked the mayor.
“No, although I probably would have had to ask for directions without a county map. This is certainly a small town!”
“That’s the way we like it. Think of it as a best-kept secret.”
There was not a great amount of furniture inside the house and what was there was there for quite a while. But while the décor was outdated the home was still cozy.
The mayor introduced Pete to his wife, Loma. Though Pete was polite he went right to business as soon as he was seated on the sofa.
“I have to make a study of your town and county ordinances about the placement of trash receptacles and the maintenance of them. If the offending town is breaking any rules, I’ll find out.”
“I’m pretty sure I have all the information you need. If not, I’ll gather the rest tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mayor. As I understand your town doesn’t have its own attorney. How about a clerk or a treasurer?”
“There was a time when our town’s government was more energetic, but many years have passed since then. Whatever needs to be done is handled by me or by volunteers.
“My receptionist also acts as my secretary and she or Loma handles the clerk’s duties. The members of the Town Council keep account of our budget, which, as you would guess, is meager.”
The mayor confided in Pete.
“You may be wondering why I made the effort to travel to the big city and seek help from a law firm such as yours, but I felt it necessary to hire the best of attorneys. I know that this matter does not rate at all with the cases you usually handle, but I wanted to show our discourteous neighbors that we are willing to go to any lengths to defend ourselves.
“We don’t have much money in our town’s coffers, but you can be sure we will pay you for your service.”
“Don’t fret about the fees. My law firm is doing this case pro bono.”
“Who’s he?”
“Pro bono isn’t a he. It means free of charge. Since your town is so small we are considering this an act of community service.
“Now while I examine the documents I’ll need a place to stay. Is there a hotel in town or anywhere nearby?”
“You mean a good, clean one?”
“That’s the only kind I stay in.”
“No, sorry. You will have to travel a distance to find a hotel that you would feel comfortable in. I was thinking that you could stay here overnight, in our back room. We have a pull-out sofa for you to sleep on and Loma will fix you a nice dinner as well.”
Pete thought it would be rude to refuse so he agreed.
First on the menu was a bowl of bean soup that was prepared by one of the town’s residents. Following that was a tasty stew and homemade biscuits prepared by Mrs. Nicely. During supper there was polite conversation.
“I can’t get over how young you are, Pete,” commented the mayor. “And you’re already a successful lawyer! I imagine it takes some preparation.”
“Four years of college and a bachelor’s degree, three years of law school, and there’s a test, exams and a final evaluation along the way. But don’t worry, I may be young, but I haven’t lost a case in the nearly five years I’ve been practicing law!”
The mayor realized that Pete misunderstood him.
“Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t doubting your skills. I was comparing myself to you. I haven’t accomplished much at all in all my years.”
“Well, you’re mayor, aren’t you?”
“There wasn’t much to it at all. The town needed a mayor and I was one of the few residents who had an inkling of what it took to be one and the desire to fill the office.”
“You’re still a success in my book, Mr. Mayor. Being the mayor of even a small town is more than what most people accomplish.”
“Thank you for your kind words. I’ll admit that being the mayor of Blubberville doesn’t bring much excitement in my direction. I imagine it is different for you. What is it like being a lawyer?”
“It’s a thrill, I crave the competition!” began Pete. “I want to win the case for myself just as much as I want to win it for my client. Attorney versus attorney, a battle of the minds – I thrive on it!”
“I have the feeling you’ve spent your entire life in the big city. Have you ever been to a small town before?”
“I pass by some on my way to ski resorts in the mountains,” replied Pete. “Sorry, but I can’t say that I’ve spent any time at all in an environment like this. Do you like it?”
“Loma and I have spent our whole lives in small towns, and neither one of us regrets it. I have a sense of belonging, like I’ll always be a part of my town, even long after I’m gone.”
“I don’t know how that feels,” admitted Pete. “I like the big city because of what it can do for me, but it’s just a stop on my way to where ever it is I’m going, to bigger and better things, I hope.”
Before supper began Pete had prepared himself to complement his hosts whether he enjoyed the meal or not. But when supper was over, his complements were sincere.
“To be honest with you, Mrs. Nicely, I’ve eaten at some of the finest restaurants, but I can’t remember being so satisfied after a meal. It was absolutely delicious. Thank you.
“And please, thank your neighbor for me about the bean soup. It was the finest soup I have ever tasted! If someone had told me yesterday that I would have enjoyed eating beans of any kind I would have told him he was crazy!”
After some more pleasant conversation Pete retired to his room. He sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment and took a quick look through the papers provided by the mayor. Pete then went to the window. There was a small bed of flowers within sight. He took a deep breath. It was a pleasant odor, finer than the cologne and perfume he was used to inhaling back at the office.
After examining the documents and doing some work on the laptop Pete had all the information he needed. The next afternoon he drove to the offending town to confront its mayor, a somewhat overweight and balding fellow with bushy eyebrows.
“Mayor Grubb, I am Pete Hilbish of the Steele, Phibb and Finagle Law Firm. I have been hired by the town of Blubberville concerning the dumpster your town has placed on the boundary line they share with you. Upon perusal of town and state health and sanitation codes you are in violation in several instances and need to rectify the matter immediately or face a lawsuit, which you will without a doubt lose.
“First of all, the dumpster has to be moved and placed at least three-thousand-feet from the Blubberville border. It is an eyesore and a fence or hedgerow has to be built around it to keep trash from collecting across the border and for aesthetics as well. You also must provide the labor for collecting your trash that has accumulated in Blubberville and bring it back to your dumpster and dispose of it properly. I’m sure I don’t need to lecture you on the hazards of uncollected refuse and its attraction of vermin and the dangers they might impose on the health of the citizens of Blubberville.
“Do the right thing and relocate the dumpster. Why tarnish your town’s image when this becomes local news? And believe me, I will make sure that it does!”
Later in the day Mayor Grubb met with the town’s attorney, Warren Fleecester.
“Warren, I was just blindsided by Blubberville!" announced the flustered mayor.
"In what way, Gary?"
"They hired a big city lawyer from Steele, Phibb and Finagle to threaten us!"
“Steele, Phibb and Finagle? They mean business, that’s for sure. You should have called me while he was here."
"It was a stealth attack!” sputtered the mayor. “He came and left before I knew what hit me!"
"What is this about?"
"The dumpster we had placed on the boundary line. They want it removed and the refuse collected."
"Well, you do know it was placed there against code."
"Of course it was! That was the whole idea! What do we do now?"
"Move it."
"Just like that?"
"You don't want to battle with the best law firm in the region. You’ll lose for sure."
"They're that good?"
"They select only the best lawyers for their staff. I tried to get a job there and they wouldn't hire me!"
Mayor Grubb conferred with the members of his Town Council the next morning. While they were weighing the matter Pete had returned to the big city. Back at law firm some of his associates, who discovered what the Blubberville case was about, greeted him with derision.
“Welcome back, Pete!” called out one of the lawyers. “We heard the sanitation department is hiring in case you’re looking for a new career!”
“Yeah, way to take out the trash!” heckled another.
“Very funny,” Pete replied while forcing a smile.
“So where did you stay at when you were in Blunderville?”
“That’s Blubberville. I slept in the mayor’s back room on a pull-out sofa.”
“No fancy hotels? No room service?”
“No, just the sofa in the back room.”
“Sounds pretty bad.”
“It was quite comfortable, actually. They had a flower garden outside my window and there was a sweet fragrance all night long.”
“Where did you dine?”
“In the mayor’s home.”
“No five-star restaurants?”
“No, just the mayor’s dining room.”
“What did he serve you?”
“Home cooking: bean soup, stew and biscuits.”
“No caviar? No filet minion? No pheasant under glass?”
“No, just beans, vegetables and stew, and it was delicious!
“Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”
In a couple of days Mayor Grubb and his Town Council got the estimates on the costs for purchasing land for the new dumpster site, for landscaping, and the building of a fence or hedgerow around it. Not wanting to spend so much money they decided to move the dumpster to another part of town.
Mr. Grubb paid Mayor Nicely a visit.
“Mayor Grubb is here to see you,” said the receptionist.
“Send him in.
“Mayor Grubb, what can I do for you?” inquired Mayor Nicely.
“Don’t play innocent with me!” Grubb replied roughly. “You know why I’m here. You had to hire a lawyer about the dumpster and the refuse, didn’t you?”
“Something had to be done.”
“Well, there is something we can’t do, and that’s spend money on the dumpster. We’ve already exhausted this year’s budget!”
“That’s not my problem.”
“You seem to have become mine!” retorted Grubb. “You couldn’t let us walk all over you like you usually do?”
“It’s about time I stood up to you,” replied Mayor Nicely.
“The thing about standing up is that you can be knocked down again!”
“You should not speak to me any more about this matter. You have my lawyer’s number. Call him when you decide what to do.”
“This isn’t over!” declared Grubb.
The next morning Pete was into his office sitting at his desk when another lawyer paid him a visit.
"How is your Bunkyville case progressing?" Bart inquired.
"That's Blubberville. I expect the town’s attorney to call me sometime soon and tell me that they will relocate the dumpster."
"What are you working on now?"
"The Kappenstine lawsuit. Another aging socialite suing for a botched plastic surgery."
Pete removed several photographs from an envelope and scattered them on the desk.
He picked one up to show it to the other lawyer.
"Whoa, man, look at this picture! Now that’s scary! I should have no problem winning this case!”
As they were looking at the other photographs and shuddering the phone rang. It was Mr. Fleeceter calling to inform Pete that his town was going to relocate the dumpster.
“Very good! You made the right decision,” replied Pete. “Let me know when you will remove the dumpster, I want to be there to make sure there are no problems.”
Pete was pleased.
"Another win for Pete Hilbish!" he declared to Bart. "I'll be taking one more trip to Blubberville and I'll put that small town behind me!"
The first thing Mayor Grubb and the people of his town did, however, was to collect the trash that went over the boundary line into Blubberville. Among the volunteers was the mayor himself. They were humiliated and vowed revenge when Pete and some of the residents of Blubberville stood nearby and watched as the refuse was collected.
With the victory, the residents of Blubberville were happy and they brought Pete gifts. Someone baked him an apple pie and someone else brought him a hand-carved walking stick. One generous fellow even offered a pair of snazzy argyle socks. Pete was taken by such generosity.
“Thank you all, but there is no need to offer me gifts. Helping you win your case is rewarding enough. There is no need to compensate me any further, although I must admit I might take the argyle socks if I did not already have enough of my own!”
As the crowd dispersed Mayor Nicely’s thoughts drifted to another subject.
“Pete, I’m getting old and it is about time I retired. The two nearby towns have a history of pushing around the good people of Blubberville and it’s high time they had a young man with a sharp mind to guide them. I have been impressed by how you handled this case and I am hoping that you will consider relocating here and becoming the next mayor of our town.”
Pete was not interested.
“Thank you for the offer, but I love the courtroom and the thrill of being a lawyer. But now that you mention it, maybe politics would be a good future for me, but it would have to be in a big city, not in a town like yours. No offense intended, but I want fame and fortune, and I’ll not be getting it in a place like this.”
“There are some things more important than fame and fortune.”
“If there are I don’t want to know about it!”
While Pete was away the firm had filmed the commercial and it was ready to be aired soon after he returned.
The voice-over for the commercial was as follows:
“The partners at the Steele, Phibb and Finagle Law Firm are as dedicated to the community as they are to their profession. When the mayor of a small town found himself in a crisis and came to us for help we did not turn him away in his time of need. We not only represented his town and won the case, but we also worked the case pro bono, not charging any fees. That’s because we at Steele, Phibb and Finagle are like family, and we consider the community at large a part of our family as well. Pride, dedication, honor and extraordinary skills are the things that set us apart from the other law firms. Steele, Phibb and Finagle; we’re like family, and we care about you.”
But when the other clients found out that the small town they represented was called Blubberville and that the crisis the mayor found himself in was about aluminum cans and wind-blown paper plates they were not happy. They did not want to be associated with a law firm that wasted their time on such trivial matters. After all, when you are suing a doctor over a failed liposuction or a might lose your yacht in a bitter divorce, who cares about people’s health, the environment and proper disposal of refuse?
To make matters worse, the other lawyers began to make fun of Pete. They were calling him things like the "Boondocks Barrister" and the "Dumpster Defender." They also walked into his office without their shoes and socks on while chewing on a piece of straw. They even used colloquialisms when they were around him.
For example, an associate entered Pete’s office.
“Well, if it isn’t 'Pumpkin Patch Pete'!” he greeted. “How y’all doing?”
Pete looked at the other lawyer for a moment then resumed his work.
“I’d love to pull up a seat and do some jaw jacking with you, but I’ve got to skedaddle; I’ve been working as hard as a pig at the trough and I’m plumb tuckered out!”
The aging socialite recuperating from the failed plastic surgery was one of the clients dissatisfied with the law firm. She entered Mr. Steele’s office wearing a hat with a veil to cover her face.
Mr. Steele greeted her.
“Mrs. Kappenstine, please be seated. Thank you for dropping by. You didn’t say specifically why you wanted to see me. If this visit is about your lawsuit you shouldn’t be concerned. We are well prepared and I can assure you of an substantial settlement.”
Mrs. Kappenstine lifted the veil from her face.
“Dear God!” blurted out Mr. Steele.
Mr. Steele realized that he offended his client.
“Just saying my morning prayers!” was his awkward excuse.
Mrs. Kappenstine ignored him. She had other things on her mind.
“Word has come to me that the lawyer whom you assigned to my lawsuit has recently been occupied with a frivolous endeavor.”
“You mean the Blubberville case? That’s over and done with.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned. I came here to hire the very best and you have failed me.”
“I don’t see how. Pete Hilbish is the best young lawyer we have.”
“I don’t care how good he is. I have a reputation to uphold.”
Mr. Steele sought to appease his client.
“The court date is fast approaching, but I can replace him with another of our fine attorneys with no compromising of our abilities,” he said.
“That will not be good enough. I detect incompetence and a lack of sound judgment in your law firm. You are fired, Mr. Steele, and I will be looking elsewhere.”
Mrs. Kappenstine left the office.
“My goodness, what a face!” shuddered Mr. Steele. “She even makes my wife look attractive and that’s darn near impossible!”
After several other clients left, Mr. Steele called Pete into his office.
“Pete, our ad campaign for the Blubberville job has backfired. Instead of good publicity, we are losing some of our clients. They think that we are not fit for their high-profile cases anymore. We’re pulling the ad and replacing it with something that will appeal to the clientele we’re trying to attract.
“And as far as your concerned, our clients are not interested in being represented by an attorney who has been given nicknames like 'Hillbilly Hilbish' and 'Hoot an' Holler for a Dollar', whatever that means.
“Sorry, Pete, but you’ve become detrimental to our good name and fortunes. I’ve conferred with the other managing partners and we have decided to let you go. You have to clean out your desk and leave the building.”
“But I though we were like family!” protested Pete.
“Let me tell you about family. I haven’t talked to my kids in years and I send my wife on expensive vacations because I can’t stand the sight of her. I’d get a divorce if that witch had signed a prenuptial agreement!
“Well, anyway, that’s what I think about family. If it makes you feel better I’ll write you a glowing letter of recommendation that you can take with you on your interviews.”
Pete began inquiring for work at the other law firms, but none seem to be interested. He entered the office of one such firm.
“Mr. Hilbish, good to see you. Please be seated.”
“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Foster.
Mr. Foster took a quick glance at the résumé.
“I see that you have been working at Steele, Phibb and Finagle for almost five years. We would usually jump at the opportunity to take a quality lawyer from the most successful law firm in the city, but there is a problem. As impressive as you are, Pete, you are damaged goods. I know of your last case, the failed ad campaign and why you were fired.”
“None of which is my fault,” Pete asserted.
“That doesn’t matter. If it did you wouldn’t be here looking for work. I have to thank you, though. Even though we can’t hire you I must acknowledge that you’ve been of service to us. A couple of your clients who left your firm have hired us to represent them!”
“Glad I could be of help!”
“May I suggest moving to another city, across country, perhaps? Somewhere where no one is familiar with your Blubberville assignment.”
After the interview Pete returned to his former law firm. He spoke to Mr. Steele’s receptionist.
“Gloria, Mr. Steele promised to write me a letter of recommendation. That was over a week ago. Is it ready yet?”
“I’m sorry, Pete, but I don’t have anything of that sort for you.”
“I’ve called you twice over the phone since then. Haven’t you spoken to Mr. Steele about it?”
“I might have, but you know how it is around here. Letters of recommendation are not top priority.”
“Can I see him?”
“Sorry, but Mr. Steele is busy.”
The phone rang and the receptionist took the call. She ignored Pete after this and he left the building.
Pete locked himself in his furnished apartment for a few days. He was depressed and needed some time to figure out his future. While he did this he recalled how the residents of Blubberville, who were strangers, treated him better than the people he thought were his friends. The more he thought on this the clearer his future became.
Pete returned to Blubberville. He knocked on the mayor’s door.
“Mr. Mayor, if you haven’t found your successor yet, I would like to be the next mayor of Blubberville.”
Mr. Nicely was pleased.
“I’ll notify the Town Council,” he replied.
The next evening many residents had assembled for a special session of the Council.
The mayor addressed the town.
“Thank you all for coming here on such short notice. I apologize for the inconvenience, but the matter that we are here to discuss is of great significance to our town and is also important to me on a personal level.
“The time has come for me to retire, and the man whom I think should be our next mayor, Pete Hilbish, has returned to our fine town. He would like to speak to you.”
Pete rose and addressed the townspeople.
“For nearly all my life I have wanted to be a lawyer and I have accomplished that goal, with great success for almost five years. And while I would not exchange the experience for anything in the world, I must admit that the feeling of emptiness I have seems to have been the price I had to pay for my success. And this is why I have decided to make a career change.
“So if you will welcome me into your community I will relocate to your town and practice law while serving as your new mayor. It would be an honor to serve you in that capacity and together we can keep our community strong regardless of how others think of us or how poorly we are treated.”
The mayor continued.
"According to our Town Charter all candidates for mayor must be a resident of outstanding reputation. Since you have all ready spent a night in the back room of my house that will be considered your place of residence until you purchase a home of your own. And I am pretty sure that your reputation among the people of this town is solid.
“Nomination petitions for a mayor require signatures of at least one hundred qualified electors and Mr. Hilbish, it will be an honor to be the first to sign the petition. All this has to be done no later than ninety days from the election. That should give you enough time to find a residence of your own."
It took no effort at all to get the townspeople’s approval.
The next day Mayor Nicely took Pete to look at a vacant home for sale by the owner, just a few blocks from Town Hall. Pete stood on the sidewalk and evaluated the structure’s appearance. While it was an attractive two story home, it was also old and certainly not the right size.
“It’s not the type of home I had envisioned myself living in,” Pete admitted. “I had as a goal something . . .”
“A little bigger?” inquired the mayor.
“I was going to say immense. But it does have its charm.”
After the homeowner gave Pete a tour of the home Mayor Nicely took Pete to the furniture store on Main Street.
"This is Zeke Weiderman. If you remember Zeke is one of our Town Council members."
"I remember. I will be needing some furniture soon, Zeke."
"I'll get you everything you need."
They went to the living room furniture and spent a few minutes considering.
"Is there any place in town I should know about?" inquired Pete.
"We have a pretty good restaurant across the street run by Burt and Annie Royale. Burt is another member of the Town Council."
"I'm a disaster in the kitchen so I'll be eating there quite often."
After making all the arrangements and learning some more about the town Pete returned to his apartment.
By the time Pete moved into his new home and raised his signboard the ballots were cast. Now officially the new mayor of Blubberville, Pete was eager to go to work.
When Pete arrived at Town Hall he entered the waiting room of the mayor’s office. It was there where he met the only member of his staff, who was just out of high school.
She rose from behind her desk and greeted Pete.
“Hello, Mr. Mayor. My name is Mavis, and it’s my first day, too! I’m the receptionist and secretary when you need one!”
“Pleased to meet you, Mavis.”
Pete went into his office and put his jacket on the rack, and sat down. He looked around the room for a minute or two and went back outside.
“What sort of work do you have for me today?” he asked.
“Nothing yet. Just sit down and relax.”
“For how long?”
“Until something happens, I guess.”
“How often do things happen around here?”
“Not very often, but when they do, watch out!”
“Since I haven’t anything to do yet, I would like to see the Town Charter and other documents pertinent to our town's government. Are they readily available?”
“We have all our documents in a room down the hall. I’ll get them for you.”
Mavis returned with the documents and brought them to the mayor.
While the mayor sat at his desk sorting through the papers he found a sound coming through his window that irritated him.
“Mavis, what’s all that noise out there?”
“What noise?”
“That horrible racket.”
“You mean the birds? Haven’t you ever heard birds chirping before?”
“I guess so, but I never really listened to them. There seems to be so many. There must be dozens of them!”
“There’s probably less than ten.”
“Well, they’re very noisy, and it’s not the kind of noise I’m used to. Where are all the people? Aren’t they racing back and forth going places? Where are all the cars? Don’t the people around here drive fast, slam on their brakes and bark their horns and yell at each other?”
“We may argue every now and then, but we never yell.”
“How strange!”
Alone again in his office, the mayor went back to the documents. But Pete had a difficult time of late with the losing of his job and moving and he became drowsy. He leaned back in his chair and fell asleep. It was the first time since kindergarten that Pete took an afternoon nap.
When the mayor awoke he heard the voices and laughter of little children. He went over to the window and saw them playing and dancing around a statue in the center of the small park adjacent to Town Hall. His naptime was over, and as the mayor of Blubberville there would more than enough time for Pete to rest.
Pete went outside and entered the park. There wasn’t much to it; it was maybe one hundred feet wide by one hundred fifty feet deep. There was a bench by the sidewalk, the statue, grass and some flowers, and a couple of trees and hedges towards the rear.
Pete introduced himself to the children and watched them play for a while. And it was not long before he learned to appreciate things like the green grass, the clouds in the sky, the sound of chirping birds and the peace and quiet of his new life.
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In the small town of Blubberville resides a tiny woman named Mrs. Clutterhouse who lives alone in a house full of clutter. There are so many items stashed away in every room of the house that it is almost impossible to move about. Along with all these items are many boxes of all different shapes and sizes stacked one on top of the other until they practically reach the ceiling. There are even boxes inside of boxes, the smaller inside the larger.
Mrs. Clutterhouse keeps many of her possessions inside her many boxes. She has pins and needles, pencil stubs, soap fragments, buttons, soup bones, candy wrappers, plastic tops from milk containers, a collection of pebbles and many other objects. She collects many things and for this reason was in an endless search for more boxes.
Mrs. Clutterhouse has many cats, the number of which varies. There are usually ten at the least and at the most there have been as many as twenty. Sometimes when the cats are through playing they fall asleep in various locations around the house, even on the kitchen table. And when they are done sleeping they resume chasing each other around the house and jumping in and out of the boxes.
Sometimes the cats claw the boxes and leave bits and pieces of cardboard all over the floor. This upsets Mrs. Clutterhouse. When the cats tear apart a box she has to go out and find another box to replace it. Every so often the cats will knock over some of the boxes and when this happens they fall with much noise, spilling some of Mrs. Clutterhouse’s possessions to the floor. When this happens she chases the cats with a broom until they are all out of the house.
If there is a Mrs. Clutterhouse there also must be a Mr. Clutterhouse, and there was.
Mr. Clutterhouse had a collection of many things including locks and keys, can openers, shoehorns, guitar picks and a few piles of old 78-RPM records. He had several other items, but did not have as many possessions as Mrs. Clutterhouse.
Mr. Clutterhouse’s favorite footwear was his argyle socks. He was so proud of them that he would take them to the town’s Founder’s Day Parade and as he stood in one of the wagons pulled down Main Street he would show his socks to his friends and neighbors while Mrs. Clutterhouse played the tuba.
When Mr. Clutterhouse died Mrs. Clutterhouse put him in a box along with his socks and dragged the box to the woods (Mrs. Clutterhouse was a strange woman). Her neighbors then assisted her in giving Mr. Clutterhouse a proper burial.
Mrs. Clutterhouse is a good cook and more than anything else she likes to cook with beans. Her kitchen pantry is filled with cans and bags of many varieties with which she makes her soups and stews, all as tasty as can be. So with the cooking, the cats and the cleaning, Mrs. Clutterhouse goes to town every morning to look for groceries, cat food and more boxes.
There was a period of two days in which Mrs. Clutterhouse’s neighbors did not see her go for her morning walk to the store. Her good friends and next-door neighbors, Don and Hazel Goodhill, knocked on her door, but she did not answer. They were so worried they went to tell Mayor Hilbish. They found him sleeping at his desk. Mavis, his receptionist, woke him.
“Friends and neighbors, what can I do for you?” asked the groggy mayor.
“We haven’t seen Mrs. Clutterhouse for two days and we are worried about her!” explained Hazel. “We knocked on her door, but she does not answer.”
The mayor was concerned. He was very fond of Mrs. Clutterhouse and he also liked her cooking, especially the soups loaded with beans and other vegetables.
They went to the house and the mayor opened the door. The cats ran out and Hilbish and the Goodhills went inside. They called for Mrs. Clutterhouse. They searched the house the best they could, but there were too many boxes and they could not find her.
“Maybe she left town to visit family,” said Don.
“That could be. But just to be sure get me a can opener, a few cans of beans and some spoons,” ordered the mayor.
Don went into the kitchen and retrieved the items.
“I’m going to open the cans and place them in every room,” explained the mayor. “If Mrs. Clutterhouse is in here at least she’ll have something to eat. After this I’ll speak to the sheriff and see if he can help us.”
The mayor peered into one of the boxes and removed a couple of items.
“Look at this, Don, a collection of acorn caps in this container and this other container has bird feathers! I wonder why she would keep these?”
After opening the cans they went back outside. The mayor looked at the felines in the backyard.
“What about the cats?” he inquired.
“Don’t worry. We’ll feed them,” replied Hazel.
The next day there was a stirring underneath a very large box in one of the bedrooms. It was Mrs. Clutterhouse finally coming out of hiding. While she was rearranging the boxes the big box fell on top of her. It was so warm and cozy underneath it that she decided to stay there and put on her headphones and listen to tapes of Cheeko!, the world’s greatest tuba player.
After Mrs. Clutterhouse emerged from underneath the box she went outside to look for her cats. Hazel saw Mrs. Clutterhouse and came over to greet her. Mrs. Clutterhouse explained to her neighbor that she was under the box and could not hear them calling her because she had the headphones on. She was grateful for their concern although the open cans of beans placed throughout the house puzzled her.
One snowy winter’s morning Mrs. Clutterhouse made a loaf of bread that she would feed the birds with. She put a coat over her usual dark blue dress and apron, then took her corn broom and went outside. Walking a short distance from the house she swept away the snow until a patch of ground was cleared. She then cast some of the bread onto the ground and left it for the birds to peck at. She then took a walk to Ray Garland’s grocery store, taking the corn broom with her to use as a walking stick.
Now in going to and from the store tracks were made with the corn broom and some of the townspeople saw the strange tracks in the snow. Mr. Garland joined them.
“What are you looking at?” he asked.
“There are some peculiar tracks in the snow. I’ve never seen anything like them,” said Mrs. Giles.
“They seem to belong to a rather large animal,” added Mrs. Hockett.
“I know what to do,” said Mr. Garland.
Mr. Garland made a phone call to Chief Buffalo with Wings, the town’s lone Indian resident, who was known to be an excellent tracker. (Blubberville’s Town Charter includes a clause that stipulates that there should be at least one Indian in town at all times, preferably a tracker.)
Chief Buffalo with Wings studied the tracks.
“There is no doubt in my mind that these tracks were made by a bear. See how they begin at the grocery store door? The bear was in the locust tree behind the store and leapt onto the roof and then jumped down in front of the store. Bears are very wily. You never know what they’re going to do next.”
“Are you sure they are bear tracks? You never see bears around here this time of year,” said Scooter Burroughs.
“It must be climate change. The weather has been so unpredictable lately the animals don’t know what season it is. The tracks are on either side of tiny shoe prints. Do you know who they belong to?”
“Mrs. Clutterhouse was my only customer so far today,” said Mr. Garland.
The townspeople were concerned about her safety.
They followed the tracks all the way to Mrs. Clutterhouse’s front door.
When Mrs. Clutterhouse answered the door she was surprised to hear that her friends suspected that there was a bear in the neighborhood. They asked her if one had followed her home and she shook her head "no"; there were no bears around, just her cats.
Chief Buffalo with Wings took another look at the tracks.
“There are prints all over the place, including to and from behind the house.”
So they went to the back of the house and sure enough there were more prints. They followed the prints to the edge of the woods.
Just then Mrs. Clutterhouse came from the house with the corn broom and a bag of bread. She shook more bread onto the ground for the birds and returned to the house.
The townspeople looked down at the new broom prints. They looked an awful lot like the prints already on the ground and the prints they saw at the grocery store.
“You’d be surprised,” said Chief Buffalo with Wings, “If you knew how many trackers have trouble telling the difference between corn broom prints and bear prints!”
One evening Mayor Hilbish was standing outside of Town Hall before the commencement of a Town Council meeting. He was conversing with some of his neighbors. Present was Festivous Armentrout, who owned the mill, and Joe Picinich and Don Goodhill, both employed in factories in the nearby towns.
“I have been looking for a way to show my appreciation to Mrs. Clutterhouse,” said the mayor. She has cooked so many fine meals for me since I became mayor. I was thinking about buying her a gift.”
“Buy her a few cans of beans,” suggested Joe.
“No, she has her pantry filled with beans. I want to buy her something special.”
“Then get her a case of beans! It will come with a box. That will make her happy for sure!”
“Why does she keep all those boxes, anyway?” inquired the mayor.
“No one knows,” said Mr. Armentrout. “Mrs. Clutterhouse is a nice woman, but she is also very strange.”
“Speaking of boxes,” interjected Don, “one of my co-workers at the box factory misread an order and instead of making twenty boxes at one foot each he had us make one box twenty feet long! The darn thing is twenty feet long, ten feet wide and ten feet deep! It’s sitting in our parking lot and we don’t know what to do with it.”
“That’s it!” exclaimed the mayor. “I’ll buy the box and put it in Mrs. Clutterhouse’s backyard! She’ll love it!”
As mayor, Pete presided over the Council meetings. The meetings were chaired by the mayor and the four Council members, who were: Josiah Buck, the cattle rancher; Ray Garland, owner of the grocery store (and the only gas pumps in town); Burt Royale, owner of Burt and Annie’s Restaurant; and Zeke Weiderman, who owns the furniture store.
The mayor addressed the townspeople.
"Friends and neighbors, thank you all for attending this month’s Town Council meeting. I must tell you that during these first few Council meetings I have developed a better understanding of government and an appreciation for your town as well, especially the informality that you bring to these meetings.”
"You mean the way we speak out when we're not supposed to?" said Scooter Burroughs. (Scooter always sat in the front row.)
"Exactly, and that's fine with me,” replied Hilbish. “A stringent adherence to decorum is not what I'm looking for at the moment. I want to see community involvement. That's the only way this town is going to grow. And speaking of members of our community, I would like to know a little more about Mrs. Clutterhouse. Does she ever attend these meetings?"
"I've never seen her here. She just stays at home and minds her own business,” replied Mr. Buck.
"She doesn't say much, does she?"
"She hardly speaks to anyone, except to Hazel,” said Don. “Hazel and her cats.” “Sometimes she talks to the birds when she's feeding them,” added Hazel.
"Mrs. Clutterhouse has also been providing me with many a fine meal since I've moved here. I enjoy my suppers, but I don't want to take advantage of her kind nature. I’m curious why she has been so considerate of me."
"Just like the rest of us, Mrs. Clutterhouse appreciates what you did for our town concerning our disrespectful neighbors,” said Zeke. “It's been a long time since we've felt good about ourselves."
"Mrs. Clutterhouse is a recent widow,” said Mr. Buck. “I think cooking keeps her busy."
“Mr. Clutterhouse used to watch police and lawyer shows on television,” added Burt. “Since you're a lawyer it could be that you remind her of him. Maybe that is why she is fond of you.”
"And I am fond of her, and since, for some reason, she likes boxes I've decided to purchase a very large one for her and surprise her with it. It is twenty feet long and I need someone to help me deliver it."
"I can do that," said Norbert Fayjon. "I know a fellow who has a flatbed truck who owes me a favor."
Norbert was a tall, burly fellow who always wore a baseball cap, t-shirt and faded blue jeans. Norbert owns a bulldozer and lives in a doublewide.
"And there's something you can do for me, Mr. Mayor," he said. "You can stop saying things like 'stringent adherence to decorum'."
"Can I buy you a thesaurus instead?"
"I don't know – is that a car?"
"No, it's a book of words. I'll get you one."
The mayor bought the box and Norbert and some of the other men placed it on the truck. They brought it to Mrs. Clutterhouse’s backyard.
“That’s a mighty big box,” uttered Joe Picinich.
When Mrs. Clutterhouse woke the next morning she looked out her window. Instead of seeing the grass and the trees she saw a large brown wall of cardboard. Upon further investigation she realized that is was a very large box.
While Mrs. Clutterhouse was filled with joy to see such a big box it was just too large for her to keep it. It obstructed her view of the woods and was so tall it cast a shadow over her flowerbed.
After Hazel told the mayor he returned for the box.
“Can you return it to the box factory and get your money back?” asked Mr. Buck.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Josiah. When I gave the money to the supervisor he said ‘No backsies’!”
They took the box to town and put it in the parking lot near Main Street. Hoping to attract tourists the Town Council raised a sign that read: "Welcome to Blubberville, home of the world’s largest box."
Mrs. Clutterhouse missed the box, however. And when Mayor Hilbish heard that she was sad he sought to do something about it. He went to Chet Fickett’s thrift store and spent quite some time looking at the items.
Chet was an amiable fellow. He was also thin despite consuming an excessive amount of candy. He usually had a bag of sweets on the counter of his store.
“Are you looking for something in particular, Mr. Mayor?” he asked.
“I’m looking for impetus.”
“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds like a game for brainy people.”
“It’s not, but that’s a good idea. I’m looking for inspiration. I’ll know it when I see it.”
The mayor found a box filled with children’s items. Among the items was a gold tiara with imitation jewels and a navy-blue sash.
“Here it is, Chet, inspiration!”
The mayor paid another visit to Mrs. Clutterhouse bringing with him several of her neighbors. He put the sash over her shoulder and the tiara on her head.
“Mrs. Clutterhouse, for all the good you do for your friends and neighbors I crown you 'The Empress of Boxes'!”
Mrs. Clutterhouse was happy again.
A few days later a family of four was passing through town and read the sign. They wanted to see the world’s largest box.
When the townspeople realized they had tourists they ran to get Mrs. Clutterhouse. She put on her sash and crown and grabbed her tuba. They took her to town where she entertained the visitors. They were very pleased with the presentation and danced about while Mrs. Clutterhouse played the large brass instrument. When she was finished playing the family of four had their picture taken with The Empress of Boxes.
After the performance the mayor greeted them.
“Welcome to Blubberville. I’m Mayor Pete Hilbish.”
“My name is Abel Hotchkiss,” the man replied. “This is my wife Veronica, my son Nathaniel and my daughter Fiona.”
“Glad to meet you all. I noticed that you enjoyed our large box and meeting The Empress of Boxes. This fills our community with pride.
“Now if you haven’t had lunch yet, please let me recommend Burt and Annie’s Restaurant. You’ll enjoy the food as well.”
The mayor accompanied them to the eatery. He introduced the family to Burt, who took their order.
“So what brings you to our fine town, Abel?” inquired the mayor.
“I’m an unemployed taxidermist looking for work. We have spent the past year living in our car and I’m also looking for a place to live. It is difficult to practice taxidermy from out of your car. The police become suspicious when they see a dead caribou in the back seat.”
“I would imagine!” replied Pete.
“I have also been making money from what I call a Traveling Zoo,” continued Abel. “I made drawings of animals and for a nickel I will show children the picture and imitate the sounds that the animal makes.”
“Are your customers satisfied?”
“Only when I perform for very stupid children. Sometimes I am chased by angry parents.”
The mayor thought about Abel’s situation and offered some help.
“I can’t say for sure if you will find taxidermy work around here, but if you would like to settle down in our fine town you should be able to get a job in a factory in one of the larger towns nearby.”
“That sounds good, but I would like some land to go along with the house, because for quite some time now when I tell my children to go outside and play they have to sit in the trunk of the car.”
“Your children deserve better than that,” said the mayor. “I might be able to help you find the home you’re looking for. There’s one for sale not far from here that might be right for you.”
The mayor took the Hotchkiss family to see a home on the outskirts of town that had nearly two acres of land with it. The home was old and neglected, but it was selling at a very low price, the right price for a family that spent a year living in their car.
They stood on the street and looked at the house.
“It needs work, but it is something you can afford,” said Pete.
“What do you think?” Abel asked his family.
“I like it,” replied Veronica.
The children were also pleased.
“I noticed a bank on Main Street,” Abel said to the mayor. “I would like to transfer my life savings there.”
So they returned to town. Before Abel entered the bank he opened the trunk of the car and removed an item.
The bank is an independent business that has been serving the community for generations. The building's exterior is of an architectural style long departed. Beyond the facade the interior is no less fascinating, a world of iron, marble, wood and a few examples of stained and engraved glass and murals.
On display in a corner of the bank is a collection of coins and paper money and along with those items are antique toy banks and piggy banks accumulated by members of this banking family over the past century. While the Hotchkiss children looked at the items on display, the mayor brought the adults together.
“This is Calvin Dean Dyer, the bank president. Mr. Dyer, this is Abel and Veronica Hotchkiss. They would like to transfer their savings to your bank and purchase a home in our town.”
They went into the office.
“I don’t have much money, but I intend to work hard every day and add to it,” Abel said.
He then handed the bank president the mounted bass that he removed from the trunk of the car.
“No need to give me a gift,” said Mr. Dyer. “I should be giving you a welcoming present.”
“This isn’t a gift,” replied Abel.
He stuck his hand into the fish’s mouth and pulled out a bag.
“This is where I keep my money. I figure if someone robs me he’ll take my wallet, but won’t bother taking the fish.”
“Abel is unemployed; he and his family have been living in their car for a while,” explained the mayor. “I told Abel he could get a job in one of the nearby towns.”
“There’s no need to look for a job elsewhere,” said Mr. Dyer. “On the east side of town is Osa Plymale’s sawmill and lumberyard; he’s hiring at the moment. Would that be all right with you, Abel?”
“I’ll take any job I can get!”
When the Hotchkiss family moved into their new home, the mayor and some of the other townspeople were there to greet them, including The Empress of Boxes, who serenaded them with her tuba.
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As was the custom some of the men would gather in Mr. Waugh’s barbershop, some for a haircut, some for the conversation. Mr. Waugh was a decent person, but he was not a positive fellow and at times he could be bitter due to his failed marriage.
In the chair one afternoon was Andy Hockett owner of the pharmacy. Also there was Scooter Burroughs, who owned a funeral parlor and Reese Overstreet from the music store.
Todd Daniels, who was in need of a trim, joined them, the brass bell on the door sounding out as he entered the shop. Mr. Waugh looked towards the door.
“Good morning, Todd. How are things with you?” he greeted.
“Just fine. How about you?”
“Things couldn’t be better.”
“I’m glad all is well for you.”
“I didn’t say things were well. I just said things couldn’t be better.”
The other men laughed.
“You’re a little bit too gloomy,” chided Scooter. “Look on the bright side every once in a while.”
“You have to be me to know me.”
“I don’t want to be you, that’s for sure. It’s awful enough just knowing you!”
The banter made the other men smile, except for Mr. Waugh who hardly ever found humor in anything.
Mr. Waugh removed the cape from Andy’s neck and brushed away the clipped hair.
“You’re next,” Mr. Waugh said to Todd. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
While Andy followed Mr. Waugh to the cash register Todd sat on one of the barber’s chairs.
“How is your hobby farm coming along, Todd?” asked Scooter.
“Just fine. I love keeping animals. There is something reassuring when you watch them grazing in the field.”
“What kind of animals are you keeping?” Reese asked.
“At the moment I have a few donkeys and a couple of goats and pigs.”
“I have to give you credit. You’re a busy dentist with a time-consuming hobby,” commented Andy. “If you had to choose between the two which one would it be? The farm or the dentistry?”
“That’s hard to say. I love the animals, but dentistry is my career. I find teeth fascinating. The incisors, the canines, and those molars – they’re so utilitarian!”
“Good for you!” said Reese. “You have a hobby and a career and you’re good at both.”
“I finished at the top of my class at dental school!” Todd replied proudly. “I know teeth just as well as any other dentist in the county.”
“That may be so, but does the county know that?” asked Scooter. “We all go to you, but are you getting patients from anywhere else?”
“Not as many as I would like.”
Mr. Waugh began to clip away at Todd’s hair.