A Season of Misgiving
By
Al Cline
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Copyright 2011 by Al Cline
SMASHWORDS Edition
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Table of Contents:
Forward to The Book by Michael Ivie
Story 1: Bus #47, the Halloween School Bus
(wherein Mz. Hackensack creates a local legend.)
Story 2: Our Dinner with Patrick
(an unexpected relative shows up for Thanksgiving Dinner)
Story 3: Fruit Cakes ‘r’ Us
(unselfish annual gifting of fruitcakes creates major problems)
Story 4: The Incredible Christmas Tree
(bargain hunting for Christmas trees can be prove costly)
A Season of Misgiving is taken from a collection of original, fictional short stories written by Al Cline. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. A Season of Misgiving is protected by International Copyright Laws © 2011 and Mz. Hackensack’s wrath.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
These short stories were written to appeal to the middle-school aged readers although many adults seem to find them equally interesting. This first volume ‘A Season of Misgiving’ will be followed by at least eight other volumes collected from the original Ball Park Stories series. Be sure to watch for ‘Hackensack Tales‘, ‘A Sporting Chance‘, ‘School Daze’, ’Our Kind Of Town’ and several other fine short story collections. Also in the planning stage are ‘talking books’ which will be dramatic presentations of these fine stories. We trust you will enjoy them all!
The author of this collection, Al Cline grew up in Middle Tennessee and Northern Ohio. He now lives in Southern California where he is a storyteller, teacher, musician and writer. Like some of his story characters he has had success in numerous fields of endeavor. Al currently maintains a daily blog on facebook called “Mz. Hackensack” where some of the characters from his stories can interact with readers. And yes at one time as a driver, he did drag race an empty Bus #47 and lose to a fully loaded soft drink truck!
Foreword to A Season of Misgiving
In addition to a risible introduction to the ubiquitous Mildred J. Hackensack, you will, as readers, if, after suspending disbelief, you allow yourselves the luxury of enjoying stories that are frequently outside the bothersome net of reality. You suspend disbelief anytime you chose to enjoy any dramatic or comedic offering so that your enjoyment won’t be fettered with notions that “That can’t really happen—or can it?” When you allow yourselves, dear readers, this freedom, you may also find yourselves exposed to the musical subtleties that Al Cline invariably infuses into his projects. These nuanced notes add to the pleasure—if you let it.
Perhaps the lyrical qualities of the stories has something to do with the Irish roots of the Smith family who, despite the ubiquity of Ms. Hackensack in their lives, is regularly visited by Patrick O’ Lafferty, a bona fide Leprechaun. Don’t worry, it’s all part of the fun you will have after suspending that nuisance, “disbelief”.
Patrick, in his green jacket, knickers, and black shoes with big silver buckles and the derby, tilted jauntily, even under the watchful, mistrusting eyes of Charles Smith, does what leprechauns excel at—mischief. We are never told so, but, could it be that Ms. Hackensack is related as well?” Hmm.
The jokes whether anachronistic or have contemporary references are quite frequently non sequitur, and they come at us with rapid-fire velocity. Don’t worry for Mr. Cline. It is all part of the fun. That some of the jokes defy logic and some are plain corny, tends to make them all that more endearing. Since you have already suspended disbelief, you can now embrace the story-telling for what it is—pure, unadulterated escapism.
Besides, who knows whether or not there is somewhere—perhaps in a parallel universe somewhere, a “Fruitcakes R’ Us” super store. And then, it would not be inconceivable that such a superstore could be part of Hackensack Enterprises, Inc., could it not?
In the world we know as ‘the real world’, we must remind ourselves ad tedium, that we have lived among such powerful and mysterious entities as World com, Enron, Global Crossing and a host of other giants, who frequently declare themselves to be real so that they can frighten us poor mortal children. So why not Mildred J. Hackensack, who alternately, runs a superstore that sells fruitcakes, appears again miraculously immediately before the Fourth of July with the greatest fireworks stand that the folks in Ball Park, the lovely, close-knit community nestled in the mountains of Northeast Georgia in Creosote County, have ever seen or had the pleasure of watching go up in a blaze of glory? And why shouldn’t she have the corner on Christmas Trees as well?
As when she is watching the remains of Bus #47 burn or Halloween parties and treasure hunts go awry or, for that matter, when she makes announcements about the specials on aisles 67Z or 67R or any of the countless other aisles, her omnipresence together with the raspy laugh suggests as always, “Idn’t it Fun?” (Punctuate this last question, dear reader, with your own shrill, witch-like laugh).
Mike Ivie is a veteran actor with television, film and stage credits. He is also the author of four published works; Stories I heard at Grandma's Knee, Philo's Adventure, Ella Mae's Tale and Warm Hearts in a Cold War, A Novel.
Bus 47 - The Halloween School Bus
From the Ball Park Series by Al Cline Dedicated to the Memory of Jean Parker Shepherd
Bus #47 did look like most school buses in the Ball Park fleet (Ball Park is a little town in the mountains of northwestern Georgia); of course it was a little older, maybe a little more beat-up, but everybody agreed it had character. A big yellow cab-over GMC, Bus #47 had been serving the school district for as long as anyone could remember. Just how many years, no one knew. It had seen many drivers come and go. There was yellow paint peeled here and there, a rusty bumper and gouges on the right fender from hitting too many mailboxes. A high-mileage veteran, the bus burned too much oil and gulped too much gas. When it started first thing in the morning, a big cloud of stinky blue smoke belched out of the tail pipe and smelled up the inside of the bus for the rest of the day.
Was Bus #47 ever slow? Why, Cal Jackson said he had once raced a fully-loaded Pepsi Cola truck with it. He was taking the empty bus back to the lot and this Pepsi Cola driver waved at him when they stopped at the light on Beauregard Street. Cal looked over at the other driver and he looked back with a knowing smile. They both revved their engines in a menacing way and when the light changed they popped their clutches and were off.
Anybody watching this duel would not have noticed anything unusual. It was more like two turtles scraping down the road than race cars on the track. They both shuddered away from the light. The quarter-mile marker inched by as Cal watched the tail lights from that Soft drink truck disappear in the dust.
Worst of all, not only was Bus #47 slow, it was smelly! Everyone knew it and held their noses, but it always got you to school.
Bus #47 could be scary, too. Sometimes in a calm run on the road, the driver would miss a shift and Bus #47's split axle would get caught outside the gearbox and start to rattle, Rattle, RATTLE like God was shaking a big pair of dice over your head. Then quickly a horrendous, "Boom!", would sound as the axle would slam back in. The whole bus would lurch as if shaken by a giant hand while everybody screamed. Then innocently enough, the bus would shuffle on as if nothing had happened.
It was also true that not just anyone could drive Bus #47. The driver had to be special, too, and a good many of them had come and gone over the years!
Most of the kids who rode on Bus #47 came to love it but some were pretty mean to it - carving their initials here and there, trashing and ripping the seats before leaving old milk cartons, fruit skins and wrappers on the floor. Every driver hated to have to clean up that mess and the next day the kids would get a speech from the driver about cleaning up after yourself.
Maggie Carley claimed she saw her parent's big initials scratched into the old paint on the wall above the 7th seat on the right; A big FC and MD with a large plus sign between and surrounded by a big corny heart which guarded those initials from the rest of the graffiti.
The school year was to start in early September that year and most kids were glad. The break had been a long, calm and uneventful summer. Moms and Dads loved the calm part, but the kids all too soon began to use the word "boring" to describe it
The two Smith boys were ready for school. Charles would be in the 5th grade at Mary Celeste Elementary and his brother Roger would be in the 6th grade. They stood down at the end of the driveway by the road and peered off into the distance. “Where’s the Bus?” They wondered aloud to themselves several times while waiting. They were itching to see old friends and renew old rivalries. They weren't ready for the shock about to hit them: Bus #47 had a new driver! Charles saw her first. "Hey, Roger--Quick--look at that!"
Roger looked up and dropped the stick he was using to scrape the tar from the edge of the road.
"Look, Roger! Look!” Charles shouted. "Mr. Bumbliss isn't driving the bus!” It was true. The kindly old Mr. Bumbliss with his slouchy hat, coke bottle glasses and his gentle manner was not in the driver’s seat.
A skinny, older lady was in the seat. She sat proudly with her hair spun to a point on top of her head, wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a purple jumpsuit. As she opened the door she spoke in a thick, high-pitched Southern accent that sounded like a jack-hammer in a summer thunderstorm. ”How’re y'all doin'? Git yousself on the bus. We’re gonna have a good time today! Now, ain't we?" She peered at the boys as they walked by. Her thick glasses gleamed like rude, oversized truck headlights.
Charles looked at Roger, and Roger looked at Charles. They stepped carefully up into the bus but tried to stay as far away from her as they could. Both boys made sure there was no eye contact with her! Charles glanced at her driver's ID card which carried only one strange word: ‘HACKENSACK‘.
The boys sat down but they didn't say anything to any other kids on the bus. Everyone else was quiet and wary too. They weren’t sure about this new driver. Nobody knew what to expect from her and they all knew they missed Mr. Bumbliss.
As the bus pulled away from the stop, Mz. Hackensack looked into her overhead mirror and shouted "Get those seat belts on yousselves! Right Now!” All through the bus you could hear, “click, Click CLICK click.…“ as the belts snapped into place. The bus slouched toward 55 miles per hour.
Oddly, Mz. Hackensack shouted. "Hang ON!". She immediately slammed her foot down hard on the brake petal and the bus ground to a halt with a loud ‘eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrr....…’ Blue smoke came rolling off the tires and there was the grating and screeching of grinding metal singeing the air!
Everything on the floor that was not strapped down came slithering to the front of the bus and crashed into the front barriers. New lunch pails clanged forward and dented, brightly colored satchels became grimy and scratched, and floating in the air like confetti were dozens of blank notebook papers.
After a pause, Mz. Hackensack looked up in the overhead mirror, smiled, and shouted "I'dn't that Fun?!!"
Mz. Hackensack calmly waited for the kids to retrieve their belongings, then she punched Bus #47’s accelerator forward and drove for about five minutes in the direction of school. Then, without warning she halted the bus in an odd place. It was where the road curved by a lazy green cow pasture and was a long way from a regular stop. She put on the flashing red lights and had the stop sign arms come out. Cars from both directions came to a stop and waited. Then, when no one got on or off Bus #47 the drivers started to get mad.
Mz. Hackensack was just sitting there like a toad waiting for the tastiest fly. She kept smiling calmly and staring at the kids through the overhead mirror. Then she’d look at the stopped cars and laugh.
The drivers in their cars got impatient and really ticked off! They started honking their horns and shaking their fists, and yelling,
"MOVE THAT BUS!! MOVE IT!!! MOVE IT RIGHT NOW!!!"
Mz. Hackensack looked up into the mirror and shouted to the kids behind her. "Idn't that funnnnnn?!" Then, tired of annoying the other drivers, up came the stop signs and the flashing lights were shut off. She drove off as if nothing had happened (except for her riotous and crackly laughter).
Strangely enough, they arrived at school with plenty of time to play. In spite of Mz. Hackensack's weird actions they had arrived at school early.
"Scary! This lady is scary.” Some of the kids were upset and they whispered among themselves, “Who knows what she'll do next?"
Somebody told on her and most people believed it was Charles Smith. But whoever it was, Mz. Hackensack’s strange actions were reported to the principal.
Ready for the after-school ride home, Bus #47 and Mz. Hackensack were waiting at the front of Mary Celeste Elementary School. She nodded her gray head, wiggled her glasses and smiled at Charles in an odd way as he and Roger got on the bus. "This is a pretty good day for you!" She grunted. “Pretty good! Our own little news reporter."
When it came time to let the Smith brothers off the bus, she drove a quarter of a mile down the road further than where they were supposed to get off. They had to walk all that way back home.
Their mother didn't believe that there was a problem. "Why are you late coming home? You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. What happened to you?"
Charles answered, "Well, the bus driver dropped us off a long way from the stop we were supposed to be and I had to....." Roger kept nodding his head as Charles continued.
Mrs. Smith was not buying this story as she had heard plenty of similar excuses in the past. "Now, don't make things up! I know you were out there messing with somebody's mailbox, weren't you? You were climbing those fences over in the field, weren't you?”
Both boys shook their heads to disagree!
"You were playing with those tie wires from the light poles, now weren't you?"
"Nnnoooo." They protested.
"Well, we went through all this last year. This had better not happen again, ever or you‘ll be grounded. Do you two understand me-- or you'll be grounded!”
The next morning, Charles and Roger waited patiently to get on the school bus, and Mz. Hackensack brought Bus #47 down to a very slow speed as she approached their stop. But when she was next to them she started to accelerate away. Charles and Roger were shocked! She was going to leave them! They started running beside the bus yelling, "Open the door! "Please let us in! Hey, lady! Let us on the bus! Let us on the bus! Open the door!” They shouted as they ran alongside pounding on the door. “Let me on the bus! Let us on! Please let me on the bus!", until finally, she stopped and let them on. As they walked to a seat in the back, everyone on the bus laughed as Mz. Hackensack screeched, "Idn't that Fun?!!"
That was the last drive they had with Mz. Hackensack. That afternoon, after school another Bus (#83) was there to pick them up. It was a brand new, shiny Bluebird pusher with a different driver, Mr. Bumbliss.
Mz. Hackensack was gone! Nobody knew what happened to her, but she had been replaced. The children were afraid to ask what happened because she had been so scary.
Back again was friendly Mr. Bumbliss, the gentle little man with his own smiling coke bottle glasses. He would still lean in your direction as you got on the bus and warmly ask, "How are you today, sweetie? You're okay?, That's good. Get on the bus, Please. Take your seat, Please. Be safe. Be quiet, Please."
He was safe and friendly but not nearly as interesting or fun as Mz. Hackensack. The problem was that he drove so slowly to school that you got there with only five minutes to spare. There was no time to play with your friends, you just had time to hear the bell and line up for class.
The days passed. The weeks passed. No one was thinking about Ms. Hackensack. There were some concerns that Bus #47 had been put out to pasture as a Sunday church bus, retired or even worse had been scrapped, but no one seemed overly worried.
Children all over town began to prepare for Halloween. "This is going to be the best Halloween we ever had!" Charles crowed. "I'm going to get my ghost costume out, hand candy out to everybody that comes to the door and scare a bunch of people.”
Even Roger, who was not impressed by holidays, quickly got into the spirit of the event. “I’m gonna put the ghosts up into the tree in the front where the little kids come up and they'll get scared. I’m going to play sound effects out the window. We'll rustle around in the bushes, shake rattles and things... People will get scared instead of getting candy. Won’t they be scared? Really scared!"
Excitement buzzed throughout the town of Ball Park. All of the kids were practicing saying "Boo!” or “Trick or treat!" Ghostly laughs were being readied to frighten the little kids.
Halloween day came and it seemed like the sun refused to set. It hung there like a birthday balloon resting on the ceiling. It was in no hurry to pass on for the greatest evening of the year. It took it's own good time and drove the costumed children crazy while they waited. Dusk finally came and then darkness... The screaming hordes of children poured out into the street to collect their loot.
Down the road and out of the evening a big yellow school bus bounced up the street. It was Bus #47! Worst of all--it had a scary witch at the wheel! Was it Mz. Hackensack or not? You couldn’t say for sure. It was a short person with a tall, pointy witches hat and a gnarly, wooden broom alongside. She had a flowing black costume and a big fake nose. Long, skinny, sharp finger nails looked like they could punch a hole in a soft drink can. Above the roar of Bus #47's engine... they could hear someone screaming, "Isn't that funnn?!!"