Green Achers

Green Achers

A Novel by

Dhae Walpoole

In memory of Ken Saro-Wiwa

(October 10, 1941 – November 10, 1995)

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SO WHY ARE YOU a vet if you can't stand cats?

Marvin, ignoring the question—actually comment—from his mobile phone conversationalist, turns the furry feline patient's head from side to side as glassy pupils peer out from behind slits of slightly opened lids.  He finds it amazing that pet owners will give no thought to purchasing high-priced, exquisite dinners yet turn around and neglect their constant companion's oral hygiene beyond repair.

This cat has old grandma Moses looking teeth.  It appears as if the thing has been dipping stuff for thirty years at the minimum.  And what's that putrid smell?  It is not from the teeth.  He has smelled it before; not often and not recent but sometime in the distant past was that stomach-churning smell.

Got it.  He thinks aloud, pulling an ear down for closer inspection with the light source.  Yep, that's the source of the funk.  And they wander why you are getting to be so ornery.  No sound can penetrate this crud.  Looks almost like maggots have taken up residence in there.

With tweezers in hand to get busy with the gummy auditory canal, he hears a throat clearing to remind him that someone is on the other end of the blue-tooth attached to his ear.

Why is it that every time I share my day with you it's the same sing-song answer?

Then remembering the reason that he called her, he takes the conversation from riff-raff to business.

How did the meeting go?

Pacing the floor of the airport terminal B, with her mobile appearing to be growing from an ear, as all the other automatons are doing—at least those that are not texting or tweeting—Evian offers what sounds to Marvin like a well-thought-out bullshit answer.

It went okay?

Marvin checks the source of an incoming call and then asks Evian, I'll see you at what time this evening?

Say, about seven-thirty or so I would guess.  Who is that calling you?

It's Kimmie.  I should hold dinner for you?

Uh, right.  Wait.  What she doing calling this time of morning? She supposed to be in first period class.

Marvin readjust the blue-tooth and nudges the seemingly comatose patient, perfectly drugged for oral surgery, before diving into the grunge of the patient's left ear canal.

We won't know, will we, till I answer the call?  Bye.

The parent duo releases the line and he clicks over to activate call waiting.  But before he has a chance to get a greeting out, a breathless, panicky male voice starts rambling frantically.

Mr. Saunders!  Mr. Saunders!  You there?  Come on, man, pick up.  Pick up.  Oh, okay.  That, you?  The alien voice inquires.

Yeah.  Who dis?

Yummy.  You know, Kimberly's friend.  They tried to take her, Mr. Saunders, but we fought um off.  But see, Dab G got jacked.  They jacked him, man, Yummy's voice crackles.

Marvin's student intern—not a moment too soon—peeks in the door and asks if the cat is ready to be prepped for surgery. While trying to calm down the caller, Marvin reaches over, grabs the lab coat by the lapels, and yanks the assistant into the operating room.  He then rushes from the room, with the smelly cat ears, and dashes down the short hallway to his office and slams the door behind him.

Yummy, you gone hafta slow down.  ‘Cause I truly hope I didn't clearly understand a word you just said.  So, let's start all over.  Who tried to take my daughter?

See, Yummy starts before he gets interrupted once again.

Better still, what you doing with her phone and where she at?

She right over there talking to the police, the young man points as if the person on the other end of the line can see the action.  This is a bit much excitement for his teenage mind to decipher at such an early hour in the day.

Police!  What Police?  About what?

About them mens that tried to force her in that black SUV.

The assistant, after not getting an answer to her repeated knocks, opens the door to announce that the cat is ready for its tooth extractions.  She then taps her wristwatch to indicate to Marvin that time is running short on finishing the procedure before the anesthesia wears off.

Trying to not appear totally addled, Marvin turns around from the window that he always peers out of while talking on the phone and, crosses the room with two giant, lunges toward the door before informing her that the intern will be handling the procedure.  He re-closes the door on her wild-eyed shock, as she stands frozen in place at that directive.

It is rather obvious from her expression that his decision is inappropriate for the inexperienced hands of the intern.  Yet that is exactly what is about to happen.  The urgency on the other end of the mobile phone has this seasoned veterinarian too hyped to perform oral surgery on felines this day.  He turns and walks back in the direction of the window with its serenely peaceful view of wildflowers of various color combinations.

Yummy, where are you now?

We still here at the bus stop.  See, these deft looking dogs rolled up on us just out the blue.  They came showcasing up here in two separate cars.  Well, naw, wait, it was one car and a SUV.  Yeah, that’s what it was.

The signal goes out on the phone just as Yummy's diatribe about the supposed kidnappers starts to become more informative.

Fuck, Marvin kicks the desk in frustration.

Can you hear me now, Yummy inquires."

Yeah, we back on.  I got 'cha, Marvin perks up again, wiggling his baby toe to see if he broke it on the desk.  It is still aching like hell but he will live.  Pacing the floor, again between the window behind his desk and the door, he tries staying relaxed and, more importantly, he tries to keep the young man calm.

These po-po's keep telling me to move back like I'm the one they after.  They best recognize, Yummy says loud enough for all present in his immediate surroundings to hear.

Yummy, let that go.  Just be cool and finish telling me what happened.  Don't let them get you flustered.

They respect me, I respect them, he stares down the nearest officer standing in a fighting stance to his left.

Alright.  What happened after those men got out of their vehicles?  What did they do then?

There is more static on the phone line and muffled mumbling before Marvin is finally able to get additional information from his daughter's classmate.

He believes he heard a couple of taps at the office door that he ignored but will have to acknowledge soon.  The intern is probably feeling like a fish out of water at this point.  No matter how many procedures you watch, it is still preferable to have trained eyes around during your first cut.  Even if it is just a house cat with rotten molars you are about to yank out, trained eyes standing close by would be nice just the same.

Yeah.  So, anyway.  See, they just rushed up on her and started slinging and dragging her to the SUV.  Long pause.  Man, you need to get outta my face.  I done already told you that, Yummy interrupts his story for another conversation with someone in the background.

This is becoming too nerve racking.  Marvin is almost retching from the idea of not knowing what the actual scene is like at the bus stop.  And what happened to the bus driver?  Shouldn't she have called the incident in once she arrived to pickup? He would feel much better talking to his daughter than the powder keg on the other end of this line who finally sounds as if he has made it back from arguing with the laws.

So like I was saying, everybody on the bus-stop started pulling back and splitting.  But, you know, Kimberly our girl.  So me and Dab G, we went to slanging and swanging, you know.  You can't just rush up on me and not expect no back play.  I'm from Chicago.  And we don't play that.

Yummy pauses.  Possibly to let the news soak in or to allow time for the person (Marvin) on the other end of the line to lay on him his props.  After all he did just finish risking his short life.  And, further, he doesn't even know if his main man, Dab G, is still breathing.  But after a proper pause, as his middle school debate teacher taught him to do for special emphasis, Yummy continues with his story.

You know Dab G be just a taint bit bigger 'en me.  So anyway he and me, we was holding our own just the same.  Course, Little Squatty had seen a police car round yonder at his Auntee house, pointing again.  So he lit out round there.  But it was just about that time that everything went crazy.  Like totally berserk.

The intern marches into Marvin's office, plops down—ignoring the fact that his employer is in the middle of a heated phone conversation.  After reminding the veterinarian of the fact that he has not ever performed a tooth abstraction of any kind, he waits, patiently, for a response he rather quickly realizes is not going to be forthcoming until the phone conversation has ended. 

The mobile has Marvin’s complete attention. Everything and everyone else is secondary.  And after looking up just long enough to wave the intern toward the door, the communication continues.

However, before the student helper completely exits the room, Marvin breaks from the phone briefly to promptly but quickly reassure the student vet that the surgery will be a piece of cake.  To hopefully ease the nerves, the assistant will be right there to help him out should there be any unsuspected issues.

He once again closes the door to his office and asks Yummy to continue with the details.  Though at this point, he fears the worse outcome from what he has been able to piece together so far.  Something tells him that life is about to become a tad bit more exciting.  And not in a good way.

Okay, Yummy, sorry for the interruption.

I swear, Mr., I'm 'bout ready to bust a cap on these laws standing around here acting like I'm the criminal.

I understand, son. Just stay far enough back and keep your cool.

They don't know me.

Yummy, what happened next?

"Yeah.  So, see Kimberly got a chance to, uh, break free like from this big turkey neck character; with glasses that made him look like R2-D2.

Uh? R2-D2 had only one eye, son.

Oh.  Well maybe like C-3PO then.  Whatever.  He looked real weird.

I gotcha.  Go on.

So, see, she got away from them like, you know.  Right."

Right, Marvin urges impatiently.

Right, right, right. So, then the dude driving the SUV got out and started spraying bullets.

Oh, hell. Where were the police?

They was coming. But, see, I think that dude was trying to take all of us out.

You said earlier that somebody got shot.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. They popped Dab G and he went flying into the bushes airborne.

Where was Kimberly? Marvin demands, not sure if any answer at this point will suit him.

Probably hiding out.  Everybody was.  That old man was shooting like he was over in Iraq or someplace like that.

Marvin walks into the operating room to scope the goings on.  Pleased with what he sees—everything is going as smooth as a brimming tablespoon of Metamucil in a belly full of hog maws.  He gives his brilliantly competent colleagues thumbs up and heads swiftly out the door for the parking lot.

~ ~ ~ ~

Although his animal clinic is not near the school bus stop, and the tail end of the rush hour traffic will be another negative, he wheels in that direction anyway while trying his best to follow Yummy's ramblings.  And hoping beyond hope that the mobile doesn't cut out on him again.

Another confrontation sounds to be taking place between Yummy and the police officers.  And this one sounds like the clincher. Attempting to pick up on bits and pieces of conversation, he guns the motor as he's able to decipher that Yummy is shouting at someone about something that is about to escalate.  And from this end of the mobile he can only helplessly listen and wait for more input.  If Yummy fools around and gets busted, all contact may be lost and Marvin is nowhere near the vicinity.

I done told you laws I ain't leaving my girl here by herself.  I'm standing way over here and ain't doing nothing to ya'll.  You the ones obstructing.  I ain't in your way."

Hey!  Hey!  Yummy, just talk to me.  Okay.

You back, Mr.?  I'm 'bout fixin' to school these laws standing around me jawing like they ain't got no home-training.

Move to the other side of the street, son, Marvin pleads. We don't need another statistic over something that could have been avoided. Don't let them provoke you. So get out of there.

I ain't scared of them.  I got me a posse too.  That zit face one talkin' bout they gone chunk me in jail.  Like that supposed to rattle my cage.  My mama say I was born in jail.  And she ain't got no reason to lie about it.

Just sit still, Yummy. I'm on my way to you right now, son. Just hold on and don't let them place a bulls-eye on your back. Be cool.

Having to abruptly step on the breaks alerts Marvin to a horrendous traffic jam and he cannot maneuver out of the pandemonium because the exit is closed for construction. Why isn't this snarl showing up on the GPS he wonders while slapping the steering wheel with both hands in disgust.

Police still talking to Kimberly?

Yeah.  But, Mr., that ain't the clincher.  Let me school you to what I was trying to tell you earlier.  Guess what?

What!  Marvin demands.  He hates these nowhere angles in conversation.  Just finish the freaking story and hold the drama for somebody else who may be interested.

"While the police was talking to the senior citizen gangsters, a third vehicle rolled up on the scene.  Right?

Right.  So what happened then?

Maybe he should have stayed at the office and pulled the cat's teeth.  It would have been easier than trying to get this Yummy character to finish a single thought.

Yeah.  And they all walked over to it.  See what I'm saying? Then after a little bit of chitty-chatter, them old mens hauled ass back to their rides and they blew up outta here.  Just like that.

kisses his fingertips and puffs the fingers out to represent smoke dissipating in the air.  Once more, he is demonstrating his thoughts as if talking to someone face-to-face.

Police just let them shove off?  Marvin's heart is pounding louder than the high-decibel noise from the construction site.

Sho’ did.  That's the way it played out.  Right before my eyes like a bad dream I ain't been able to wake up out of yet.

~ ~ ~ ~

Marvin wants to take the ditch and maneuver over to another section of the feeder road.  But just as he prepares to make an attempt, the hand-written dead-end sign, directly in front of orange barrels protecting heavy equipment, calls a halt to that notion.  Why can't the planning department adjust the schedule to not encompass every effing freeway in town at the same time.

With no plan B looming on the horizon, he can only settle back and wait for an opening in traffic, right along with everyone else.

Yummy, you still there?

In this particular situation, silence is not golden.  He feels helpless to the extreme and now the phone has gone out again.  With no options, he squeezes over into the far left lane, takes the ditch in the opposite direction, and hopes the GPS will help to find an alternative route to his destination.  However, at the rate traffic is moving, it's going to take a good while to make it to the overpass.  Yet once he is on the other side of the freeway, he will have to go on instinct alone until the satellite returns with an alternative route.

With no place else to go anytime soon, he could call Evian at the airport but he does not have enough details yet.  Why get her panties all in a bunched over bits and pieces of gobble-goop.

Yummy said Kimmie is talking to the police so at least she is standing upright.  Why anyone would want to kidnap her is the elephant in the stew pot.

According to neighborly banter, the Saunders is a