DPAdventure: Chapter XXI

“Hey, Mr. B,” ‘Leeroy’ began, as usual, “you think that storm’ll hit us?”

Mr. Baxter made a dismissive gesture. “Nah,” he said, “Even if we do get a little more rain, we’ll be safe. Savannah’s at the same longitude as Cleveland. It’s just far enough inland that it never really gets nicked.”

Butch nodded. “That’s good…”

“People around here are used to these things, though. Like the people in California see the brushfires coming and shrug.”

“Only if we know they’ll keep their distance,” ‘Ken’ piped up, “If we think they’re going to quick-roast the neighborhoods we usually evacuate.”

Ed laughed. “I imagine — but it’s no shock, right?”

Danny shook his head. “Nope.”

“Well,” the human said, rising with a grunt, “It’s warm and clear out today, I’m gonna go hit some balls.” He turned to his wife. “Wanna come, Moll?”

“That sounds good,” Mrs. Baxter agreed, turning to the remaining three, “Leeroy, would you like to come?”

“Uh, no thanks, Mrs. B,” Hartman replied quickly, “You guys have fun, though,” and gave her a thumbs-up.

She chuckled. “We will. You boys behave, we shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Yes, Mom,” Dash acknowledged with a smile.

“Make yourself at home, Ken,” Ed bid as he headed for the hall, “Mi casa es su casa, y mi perro tiene huevo zapatillas!”

“Ed!” Mrs. Baxter chastised.

“What? Did I actually say something this time?”

Danny walked to the sink, giving the plate and fork a quick rinse. Jeannie sat close beside him, watching carefully in case any last scrap of waffle, soggy or not, somehow ended up on the floor.

“Who called?” Butch asked, rising as well.

“Who else?” The burly boy shot back, “Man, I really gotta read that stupid book or she’s gonna kill me.”

“Jeez, henpecked already, D-Bax?” Danny jabbed.

Dash lowered his brows, though he grinned. “Watch it, Fenzer, or I’ll let Hartmooch lump you like he’s been wanting to since you walked in the door.”

Butch paused, blinking. “Hartmooch?” he repeated, brow raised. Lowering them, “Look, could you knock off with the names? Mine’s already in the mud, today!” and glaring at Danny again.

“Don’t like that one, Hartmanana?” The blond boy taunted, briefly wrapping an arm around Hartman’s neck and giving him a solid noogie. Withdrawing, he said, “Hartmeanie sounds kinda lame though.”

Smoothing his hair back down, ‘Leeroy’ cried, “Those don’t even make any sense! Whose side are you —!” cutting himself off with a sharp sigh, realizing the answer to his question.

Dash raised flat palms. “I’m not on anybody’s side,” he insisted, “I’m just watching you two make jerks of yourself and enjoying the show.”

The human boy jumped onto the couch, sprawling out with a contented sigh, sliding his arms behind his head. Jeannie trotted up beside him, wagging her tail and licking his arm. He lowered an arm and stroked her head with his knuckles. “So what do we do now?”

“We could take the cart out for another spin,” Butch suggested.

“You guys do whatever you want,” the burly boy said, “I’m gonna go read Betrayal in a Bottle.” As soon as his back was turned, ‘Ken’ and ‘Leeroy’ locked eyes, brows lowering. At three steps, Dash turned, observing the two, then added, “On second thought, I probably shouldn’t leave you guys alone,” sitting down in one of the easy chairs. “What’s on TV, Fen?”

Danny grabbed the remote and turned the fifty-two inch flat screen on and flipped the channel a few times, settling on one for the moment.

There was a din of voices as ten yellow taxi cabs and a black car sat deep in floodwater, a crowd of city people wading around them, a few with black umbrellas. The scene then switched to the Statue of Liberty, with a slow circle-pan right as a giant swell of whitecapping ocean water rose up to the statue’s shoulders. Lightning flashed, the camera finally revealing the city in misted silhouette as the ominous instrumental continued.

The music cut back to shouts and cries as the scene changed back to dozens of people under different-colored umbrellas herding into a building.

Butch blinked, glancing at the blond boy. “Hey, I know your dad said we’d probably be fine, but…you think maybe that’ll be us pretty soon?”

Dash chuckled. “Ease up, Hartstring, it’s just a disaster movie.”

“Yeah,” Danny chimed, “There’s no way anything like that could happen. Except maybe on Cartun.”

“You’re right,” Hartman admitted, leaning back in his chair, “Guess I’m just not a fan of the East Coast, is all. I’ll take earthquakes and fires over blizzards and hurricanes, any day…”

“Amen to that,” the human boy mumbled. The three of them continued watching the movie. Once it was over, Danny took a nap, Butch played with Jeannie, and Dash made a quick trip to the library; then read his book.

It was close to five o’ clock by the time the Baxters returned. By then, Dash was playing with Jeannie, Butch was napping, and Danny had his large human nose in a rather thick book, Nelson DeMille’s The Gold Coast.

The Golden Retriever bounded up to her usual masters, tail wagging fervently. Ed petted and patted her, then looked at the boys. “Hey, guys! Sorry we’re late — we felt so good practicing we decided to hit the green after all.”

“No problem, Dad,” Dash said with a smile.

“Well, I’m too tired to cook now…” Molly declared.

“…so your mom and I were thinking of going to Fiddler’s tonight.”
“Fiddler’s?”
“Fiddler’s Crab House, over on Hodgson Memorial Drive. Sound good?”

“Sounds great!” the blond boy agreed, then added, “Always gotta celebrate when you can get the ball in the hole more than twice, huh, Dad?”

Mr. Baxter grinned, walking up to his son, reaching an arm over his shoulders and giving him a noogie, which the burly boy yielded to with a flinch and a smirk. After an exchange of pats, the man withdrew.

“That’s all right with you boys, isn’t it?” Mrs. Baxter asked, glancing at the other two. ‘Ken’ looked up from his book, smiling.

“Sure is, Mrs. Baxter, I love seafood!” he said, with the slight air of a recited line. He tried to arch his eyes, but only ended up squinting.

“Are you all right, Ken?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied quickly. Darnit, you’d think after all that I’d remember I couldn’t do that…

“Wake Leeroy up and tell him I’m going to make the reservation for six o’ clock.”

Danny had barely moved a muscle before Jeannie put her front paws on the couch, leaning in Butch’s face and licking it. Hartman twitched, flinching. Opening his eyes, he sputtered and turned his head, pressing both hands against the dog’s chest and trying to push her off of him.

“Looks like Jeannie’s already got that covered,” the human boy mused. To Butch, he cooed, “Aww, she likes you, Leeroy!”

Molly gasped, slightly dramatic. “Jeannie Baxter! You get down from there this instant!”

The Golden Retriever quickly dropped to the floor, turning and looking up as if to say ‘Whaaat?’

‘Leeroy’ firmly wiped the saliva from his lips. “A little TOO much…!”

“I’m sorry, she normally doesn’t do that,” Molly said quietly as she walked to the desk, pulling open a large bottom drawer and lifting out the phone book.

“It’s fine, Mrs. B, really…” Butch said, though he glared softly at Danny.

“What?” the human boy said, blinking. Jeannie smiled and wagged her tail.

The restaurant had wooden walls and tin roofing, with a tower of sorts rising above the entrance which bore the establishment’s emblem: a red crab in small black sunglasses and a white cap playing the violin in front of a setting sun; above it ‘FIDDLERS’ and below it ‘CRAB HOUSE’.

A cascade of clear water flowed over the right half of the roof, sheeting down past a long narrow deck with a railing. Below that was a small reservoir teeming with several fish, like a veritable moat in front of the building. The five walked up the wooden ramp and through the open front door.

“Evening,” Ed greeted the human woman behind the podium at the back of the lobby, “Baxter, five, for six,” he informed her.

“Great to see you, folks!” she said cheerfully, glancing down to check the list and the seating chart, “Come right this way…” Grabbing five menus, she turned and headed down the hall toward the dining room.

They ended up sitting at a table in view of the bar, and the small television set on the end — it was either that or sit on the other side of the divide which had individual small flat screen televisions for the booths, and a large one in the corner of the ceiling, visible from any of the other tables. This way, at least Molly had a chance of blocking her husband’s view of the flashy box and a chance of success at inspiring decent dinner conversation.

As the others opened their menus, Danny looked down at the table and noticed that there was a slightly conical silver bucket wedged in the center. The human boy reached out, feeling along the edge. “Heck of an ashtray,” he joked.

Mr. Baxter lowered his menu and chuckled, explaining, “That’s for the shells if you order something like the Steamed Seafood Platter, here — and that’s nothing, really. At the Shell House, they’ve got nothing but a hole in the table and an entire garbage can underneath.”

“Wow,” ‘Ken’ said, picking up his menu and beginning to scan it. There was no ‘Toons Menu’, but most of the items had a ‘Toon Portion’ available. Spying said Steamed Seafood Platter en route to a very hungry customer, he couldn’t imagine one portioned for a traditional ‘toon appetitie — and unless ‘Leeroy’ or Dash ordered one, he wouldn’t be able to find out.

Just as he’d narrowed down his choice of entrées, another young woman appeared with a short apron, from the pocket of which she retrieved a pen and pad. “Hi, guys! My name’s Monica and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you all started with some drinks?”

Within five minutes, she’d brought the Baxters their usual poisons, two Cokes and a Sprite for the boys, and glasses of water for all. Ed politely told the waitress that they needed a little more time to settle on dinner choices, and she left them to it with a smile and a nod.

Molly set her wineglass down. “So, Ken,” she began, “where in California do you live?” and discreetly positioned her menu to block Ed’s view of the football game.

“Burbank,” Danny answered flawlessly.

“Oh — what does your mother do?”

“She’s…an actress,” the human boy said, eyes subconsciously darting to and fro, though in the end, it was the truth. Suddenly, a wickedly prankish thought occurred to him, and he added, “She met my dad on the set of California Hot Wax.”

Hartman instantly spit-taked — or rather, snort-taked, remaining hunched forward, his eyes wide blinking as soda dripped from his nostril like a leaky faucet. Dash bit his tongue, and gave his Sprite a push to the side.

“Oh…” Mr. Baxter said softly, his attention drawn, looking a bit bewildered himself. Glancing at Molly, who quickly scooped up her Chard, he spoke delicately, “Didn’t know your dad was…involved in that kind of thing…”

Butch now sank behind his raised menu, flinching. That role hadn’t truly been any lewder than his brief soap opera appearance, if even tamer — though Generations hadn’t showcased Joan Pringle and Vivica Fox in two-pieces sensually sudsing up Ferraris to ‘a hard rockin’ guitar score’.

“W — it was just a bit part,” Danny clarified — realizing his gaffe and clamping a hand over his mouth. Dash began snickering, and lowering his arm, the human boy joined in.

‘Leeroy’ rolled his eyes. Lowering the menu, lids drooped, he said, “It was a pretty big role, actually…”

“You would know,” Danny shot back.

“Well, I think I’m going to get the Seafood Alfredo,” Molly said, slightly louder, setting her menu down, “What’s everyone else getting?”

“I’m gonna go with the Blackened Shrimp and Scallops,” Ed replied, closing his menu as well.

Before the other three could chime in, Monica returned. “Are you guys ready to order?”

The Baxters repeated their choices in turn. When the waitress turned to Dash, he gave his menu one last glance and said, “Uh…I’ll have the…Fiddler’s Combo — shrimp and oysters.”

“Snow Crab Legs Dinner, the one-pounder,” ‘Ken’ said, then turned to Hartman.

Butch smiled, verging on a mischievous grin, “Steamed Seafood Platter, ‘Toon Portion, please.”

The Platter in question normally consisted of a generous amount of steamed snow crab legs, shrimp, oysters, mussels, clams, crawfish and whole small blue crabs. The ‘Toon Portion was twice as large as the double human portion,  piled up to the ‘toon’s nose and weighing almost as much as a small six-year old, including the sides of fries and veggies that ‘Leeroy’ had specified, as well as several cups of red sauce, verde sauce, Dijon sauce, and melted butter.

The whole presentation had a fresh, lightly salty scent, which Butch paused to inhale, letting out a content sigh. As soon as the others were served, he grabbed one of the crab legs and snapped off the smaller end. Reaching forefinger and thumb into the hollow, he gently pinched the tip of the meat inside and tugged it out — completely intact, through the joints and all.

Danny drew pursed lips to one side briefly; then picked up one of the legs from his plate. He tried snapping it but it refused to yield. Picking up the small nutcracker he’d been given, he forcibly broke the shell. Reaching inside, he tried to pluck out the meat, but it shredded as he did so, and he came up with only a pinch of fibers.

Meanwhile, Hartman had effortlessly yanked out another two legs, dunking them repeatedly in the Dijon, verde and butter and devouring them slowly, savoring the faintly sweet meat. He then snatched up the Littleneck clams, and with limbs blurring for a moment, managed to completely scrape the meat from each of the shells within seconds, depositing the small mollusks neatly on his plate. Picking up the tiny fork with mock daintiness, he speared one, dousing it in butter. Smirking at the human boy, he taunted “Don’t you wish you could do this, Ken?” and ate it.

The human boy glared at the ‘toon, his rounded fingers still struggling with the long legs, and beginning to feel stiff and sore. Wiping his hands on his napkin, he paused, sitting back and sipping his soda.

Dash dipped and popped his fried shrimp with no problems. Mr. Baxter pierced a scallop with his fork, twirling marinara-coated linguine around it, and lifting it to his mouth; Molly dug up another fettucine-wound forkful of Alfredo-coated shrimp and mushrooms.

Danny sighed, looking over to see his ‘cousin’ ‘toonishly using the little fork like a can opener, cutting a large square hole in the top shell, into which he reached and, like a magician, pulled out the snow-white meat, legs and all. Tearing off the legs, he dipped them and slurped them up, giving ‘Ken’ a cocky look.

The human boy lowered his brows, teeth gritting behind closed lips. His one-up plan was failing — and having the audacity to mock him with ‘toonish abilities? Time for Plan B.T.C.O.O.B: Beat the Crap Out of Butch.

‘Ken’ rose, pushing back his chair, and barely paused before lunging at ‘Leeroy’ with a roar, both hands outstretched. Butch blinked once before being shoved to the floor, the crawfish he’d been working on flying out of his hand and landing on the blond boy’s plate with a thunk.

Dash and his parents watched as the two of them struggled, clutching each others’ collars as they rose, grunting and flinching. The burly boy looked on with lids drooped, chin once again in hand. “I’m not breaking that up…” he declared.

Danny couldn’t ‘toon-fight Hartman, human bodies didn’t bend that way. So every punch, shove, and kick was visible to human eyes — like those of fellow diners, who watched the display in roughly half-awe, half-amusement.

Butch didn’t play the victim, returning each attack in full, with equal if not more energy. They knocked and flung each other across the floor, crashing into tables and trays and servers who weren’t fast enough to get out of the way.

The brawl slowly moved toward the front of the restaurant, and finally out onto the deck, where Hartman grabbed Danny’s ankle in both hands, hurling him over the railing and into the water below. The Baxters could hear though not quite see the splash from where they sat.

Several other patrons had risen from their seats to better observe the clash. Butch breathed audibly, though standing tall in triumph as the human boy broke the surface with a short gasp, spitting out water. The ‘toon turned, his brows convex as he stared in at the aghast crowd.

Wading over to the edge of the deck, Danny shot up a hand and grasped Hartman’s ankle, yanking on it, slowly pulling him through the railing and into the water with him. After another large splash, the two resumed their fight, hands at each others’ throats.

“We’re filming a fight scene for a movie,” Ed insisted to a server as he stepped outside, “with…hidden cameras…”

A young human girl, no more than six, walked out onto the deck and up to the small twist-knob vending machine of fish food. Sliding in a quarter, she gathered the stuff in both hands, then stood at the railing, and began flinging it at ‘Leeroy’ and ‘Ken’.

The ‘toon and human paused, then slowly looked up, blinking. The girl smiled at them. Butch and Danny exchanged a glance; then let their arms drop. Hartman waded over to the railing’s edge again, and the little girl kneeled and gently petted his hair.

Danny slowly made his way back over to the deck again in time to see Dash leaning over the railing with a smirk. “If it walks like a dork and talks like a dork…” he began, trailing off as the girl now wrapped herself around his leg. The burly boy looked down, smiled sheepishly, and petted her head.

The good Southern folks running the restaurant didn’t call the police or humiliate the group with an announcement of their banishment. However, at the bottom of the receipt, Mr. Baxter found an unusual addition to their bill:

DAMAGES $2,000.00