Chapter 32.
Murray checked his reflection in the wing mirror of Lenny’s truck. Fear ran down his face in streaks of black and light blue. He looked like wax melting in the noon day sun.
“God I look hideous, maybe I should have gone as Murray and not Mariana,” he said nervously. “Murray is a tough old bastard. He’s a better survivor than me. Do we have time to stop and let me change?”
“You’ll be fine,” Lenny said, attempting to calm Murray’s nerves. “Besides maybe they might turn out to be gentlemen and have strict rules about hitting ladies.”
Murray laughed. He wiped the veins of colour from his face.
“Easy for you to joke,” he said. “I’d like to say it’s a good day to die but I’m not ready to clock out just yet. I’m no Indian brave, Lenny.”
“No one’s clocking out. You’re going to be fine, just stick to the plan and we’ll have the cavalry riding in there lickety-split.”
Lenny, Murray and I drove out to an old warehouse area. It looked like the kind of place where souls disappeared, at the hands of bad people, for small mistakes. Lenny brought me along because Rufus said I would have a calming effect on Murray. I do have a calming effect on humans. I can tell by their scent when I’m around – it changes. We approached a large rusted warehouse door, adorned with the a big metal number ‘44’, that looked like it was hanging on for dear life. The two Polish men who kidnapped Max appeared. The large one motioned for us to stop. He pointed at Murray with a metal bar and gestured for him to get out of the truck. Murray looked like he was about to have a heart attack. He began to hyperventilate. He steadied himself with a few deep breaths.
“Tough it up, tough it up. I’ve got this, I’ve got this,” he muttered to himself.
I nosed my head in under his arm and appeared beneath his chin. His breathing slowed.
“Look at little doggie, look at little doggie. You remember me?” the large Polish man asked, tapping on the passenger window with a metal bar. “You, fat lady man out. Shamowski, get out now. Out out, now now.”
I barked and jumped over Murray at the window. I don’t snarl very often but the occasion was fitting for some serious snarling – I was very angry. Murray patted my head and ruffled my ears. He looked at me and smiled. He had a look of resignation in his eyes, as if he thought his time was up and our plan was not going to work. The smaller of the two men waved to someone inside the warehouse. Max appeared in his slippers, looking tired and disheveled. He had only been kidnapped for one night but he looked like one of those prisoners that have been held captive for years. He was distressed and he looked confused. Murray nodded to Max.
“It’s ok boy, it’s all going to be fine,” Murray said to me as he slid out the door of the truck.
I tried to follow him but Lenny pulled me back by my collar and wrapped his arms around me. I tried to wriggle out of his grip – it was too tight.
“It’s ok Chums, we’re going to get our pound of flesh from these guys,” Lenny said. “Don’t you worry about that old boy. And it’s going to be a lot sweeter than just sinking your teeth into their ankles.”
Murray and Max looked like those actors do in those spy movies, when prisoners are being exchanged, at some remote location. Murray hugged Max, when they passed each other. The large man slammed his iron bar on an empty barrel. “Hey no time for hugging, you freak. Keep moving. Keep moving.”
What the Polish men didn’t know was that Lenny had called Detective Molloy, the cop who’d arrived at Murray’s house with Officer Hardwick when Murray disappeared. He told them that he had a lead about Murray’s whereabouts. His lead was very specific – it was a time and place, of where and when Murray could be found. Lenny tapped a message into his phone. Within minutes his phone jingled back. When he read the message a devilish grin engulfed his face. “Game on Chumley,” he said. His delight didn’t last long. Flowers rang.
“Jesus, talk about bad timing,” Lenny said. “Yes Flowers what do you want? I can’t speak now, I’m busy.”
I jumped up to the window with an excited bark when Max approached.
“Yes that’s Chumley,” Lenny said grinding his teeth. “I don’t know, we decided to go potholing today and maybe that’s why his signal is dead.”
Max opened the door and clambered his way in. He looked like he didn’t know where he was. He smelled bad – like a sickness had invaded his entire being.
“Yes, I know what the contract says but I’m in the middle of something right now.”
The two Polish men grabbed Murray and wrestled him back towards the warehouse. Murray turned, took one last look at us and smiled. Lenny flashed his headlights at him and gave him an ok sign.
Max pointed towards the warehouse. “What about Murray?” he croaked.
“That’s Max....MAX!” Lenny shouted into the phone.
“Yes!” Max said.
“No, Murray is not here,” Lenny said.
“He’s there, over there,” Max said, pointing to the warehouse.
I barked and jumped on Lenny’s groin. He yelped and moved me back over onto Max.
“No he’s not here,” Lenny said.
“He is, that’s Murray in a dress, over there,” Max said. “Are you blind? What are we going to do with Murray?”
“Flowers I’ve got to go,” Lenny said and he hung up.
He tried to hug Max with me between them. “How are you Grandpa? Are you ok?”
“I’m hungry,” Max said. “What’s going to happen to Murray? We can’t leave him with those people.”
“Don’t worry, he’s going to be out of there in two shakes of a lambs tail,” Lenny said. “It’s all under control Max, trust me.”
The screams of police sirens drew closer. Lenny took a diversion and gunned it towards the highway. A row of police lights flickered across the jagged industrial horizon.
“Here come the party lights,” Lenny said with a dirty cat grin. “It’s not often that you’re happy to see the cops coming.”
Lenny pulled over and hid us behind a derelict building. We waited until the cavalcade of police cars passed.
“What are we doing here? Why are we hiding from the cops?” Max asked.
“All part of the grand plan Gramps,” Lenny said.
“Grand plan? I hope your plan for Murray’s escape is better than your plan for my escape,” Max grumbled. “I’ve been in there with those two animals for days.”
“Technically it’s only been a day,” Lenny said.
“I think I need therapy, I think I’ve got PTSD,” Max said.
“PTSD?”
“Yes, Post traumatic what have you,” Max said.
“Max, you don’t have PTSD. You don’t have any issues that a shower, a sleep and a plate full of Minnie’s meatloaf won’t cure.”
“Easy for you to say lolly gagging around out here, while I’ve been tortured in there by those two psychopaths.”
“Tortured? They didn’t torture you. Did they?”
“You don’t think being wrapped in a rug and thrown in the back of a van isn’t torture. I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. And listening to their infernal babbling was torture. They’re morons. Morons!”
“Look on the bright side Max, your kidnapping spiked the ratings higher than ever.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Who’s ever seen two Donald Trumps kidnap an old vaudeville legend before?”
“I suppose if you put it that way.”
“Suppose nothing, you think your old buddy Walt is ever going to get that kind of coverage pulling rats out of hats? Your kidnapping spread faster than a dose of Ebola at the annual hillbilly spit-fest,” Lenny said. “There’s only one snag though.”
“Snag?”
“Not really a snag but a condition,” Lenny said. “We’ve got to say that you orchestrated the whole kidnapping as a bit, you know a stunt.”
“Me? Kidnap myself? Why the hell would I do that?”
“Yes, you. It’s all part of the plan. I don’t know, call it creative license. Look on the bright side, this could be your new wheelbarrow routine.”
Max sat for a moment thinking.
“I suppose I could live with that,” he said. “But wouldn’t you just know it, with my luck as soon as I catch a break, my goddam agent gets kidnapped.”
“Not for long Grandpa.”
“By the way, are you saying there’s something wrong with my wheelbarrow routine?”
“Not a thing Max. It’s a classic but you know this could be your modern classic.”
He eased himself back into the seat. I could feel his entire being decompress. I laid my head on his lap for the rest of the journey home. He gently stroked the top of my head with the back of his hand in a continuous motion, until he fell asleep against the door of Lenny’s truck. Lenny looked at me and smiled. “We’ll have to start calling you Xanax.”
I had no idea what he was talking about so I didn’t move from my comfortable position. I knew once we got home there would be lots of food. I dozed off thinking about what might be available to eat.
Max and I woke with a jolt – Lenny had driven over a stray can of Vedog that had escaped target practice. Lenny and Wing had spent an afternoon, shooting cans of the green slime with their nail-guns, with each direct hit earning a one dollar bounty. I had been a witness to the shoot-off, which meant tens of thousands of people had seen it, which meant the owners of Vedog had seen it, which lead to the threat of a lawsuit, which triggered a biblical rant by Harvey Spinks. My family’s apathy ground down even the sharpest of Harvey Spinks’ tempers. He signed off with one of his contractual threats – no one cared anymore.
Max yawned loudly – he always makes the same sounds when he yawns. He sounds like Tarzan singing opera – he opens with a shrill, painful sounding ‘Awwwwwwwwww Awwww Awwwwwwww’, followed by a protracted, baritone ‘Oooooooh Gggggooooooddd’ accompanied by a staccato ‘Haw-Haw-Haw-Hawwwww’ and closed with a soft ‘Mhmmm-Nhummm-Nhummm-Nhummm. I always yawn loudly after him – every time. It never fails to get me yawning. I love yawning.
My family was waiting for us when we arrived. They stood like soldiers waiting to be inspected. Max shuffled towards them and disappeared into a collective hug. They huddled together and muttered their gratitude that he was safe and well. Minnie slyly wiped a tear from her eye when no one was looking. It was a rare moment when I witnessed her looking vulnerable – it didn’t last long.
“Where’s my rug?” she asked.
“Rug?” Max asked.
“Yes, the rug that those two buffoons rolled you up in.”
“They kept it.”
“Kept it? What did they want it for?”
“Maybe they’re planning on redecorating their crummy warehouse. I don’t know what the hell they want it for, it’s not important, they could have killed me,” Max argued.
Lenny laughed. “Grandma getting the rug back was pretty low on the priorities list to be honest.”
“That was my mother’s rug,” Minnie said.
“You know I might be suffering from PTSD and you’re raving about a goddam rug,” Max said.
“You don’t have PTSD,” Minnie said.
“I thought you arrived with nothing from Poland,” Bunny said. “Apart from the clothes on your back.”
“Yes, yes she bought it here but it was hers,” Minnie said.
“If you’d like I could go back and get it for you,” Max snapped. “Is that what you want? Risk my neck to go back to get it? Get your ratty rug?”
“I want my rug back, you stupid man. You lost my rug,” Minnie wailed.
“You told me that your mother bought that a flea market,” Max said.
Minnie began to cry. Then she began to sob uncontrollably. I’d never seen Minnie cry like this before and she made sounds that I’d never heard before. Max moved over to comfort her. He threw her arms around her. At first she tried to push him away.
“Stupid man letting those men take you like that,” she said. “What am I suppose to do if they killed you? And you lost my rug. What am I supposed to put on the floor on the hallway?”
She sobbed into Max’s shoulder. Everyone else moved back into the house to allow them some privacy. She seemed embarrassed. She pulled away from him.
“You need a shower, you smell. Got take a shower and I’ll get you something to eat,” she said.
“You know I might have PTSD!” Max said. “I saw a TV show the other day where even the smallest event can trigger it. Do you think I should go for some, you know, therapy?”
“Any more talk of you having PTSD and I’ll give you a dose of PTSD that you won’t forget about. What nonsense! We’ve been through a lot tougher than this,” Minnie said.
She looked at me and smiled. “I’m not forgetting about you Chumley, I’ve got a big plate of meatloaf for you for being such a good boy. You’re a good boy.”
My tail rocked my entire body with anticipation. I knew exactly what she was talking about.
“It’s not like he was the one who was kidnapped,” Max grumbled.
“He was part of the rescue party,” Minnie said. “He’s a good boy. A brave little fella.”
Max rolled his eyes at Minnie. “Jeez maybe I’ll wag my tail and wait in the truck next time.”
Minnie shook her head and waved off his nonsense, like he was being churlish. I followed them both back into the house. They always walk slowly, so I knew it would take a while before I got my food. Max reached over and took Minnie’s hand in his – it was something that I rarely saw him do. I couldn’t tell if she was surprised or a little embarrassed by his gesture, but she conceded and pulled him close. They moved clumsily together, like a couple who weren’t used to walking in sync together. They fumbled with their hands until pace pulled them apart.
“What about Murray?” she asked. “When do we hear about him.”
“We have to wait until the cops call or he calls. We can’t let on we know anything so keep it under your hat and let it play out. He’s supposed to be dead remember? But he’s safe,” Max assured her.
Lenny met us on the steps at the front door and switched me back on to the masses.
“Hello Harvey and Flowers,” he said glaring into my camera. “Welcome to the wonderful world of Chumley cam. We’ve been potholing all day. Haven’t we Chumley?”
He stuffed his face with a sandwich and moved my head up and down. I ogled the big, fat sandwich dangling out of his mouth. He knew I wanted some. He teased me by eating directly in front of me. I whined. It worked and he gave me a long stringy slice of ham. It was delicious but I wanted more. He gave me the last few bites.
“Chuck is online, telling us about the tricks of getting through airport security,” Lenny mumbled through a stuffed mouth. “He said he’s coming home.”
“Home? When? Why?” Minnie asked.
“Tomorrow I think,” Lenny said. “He’s having some legal issues down there. Apparently, running down most of the crew and cast of a film production company, is against union rules in Mexico.”
“He’s getting deported, isn’t he?” Max asked.
“Who can tell with that boy,” Minnie said wearily.
Chuck’s head was front and centre in the middle of the kitchen table. Rufus sat beside Chuck’s head, counting money from a large jar of coins, that looked like a desperation fund.
“Hey there’s my boy,” Chuck said pointing into his camera lens and managing to block most of his head. It looked like a giant talking finger. “Chums how are you boy?”
I barked at the talking finger, who knew my name.
“And so to finish, what I was saying,” he said.
“Oh God, here we go,” Lenny said. “Strap yourselves in folks.”
Chuck frowned. “All you need to do going through airport security is follow a few very simple steps. Firstly, when being patted down, groan like you’re really, really enjoying it. I’m talking about a serious mmmm....nnnnn.....ooooohhh.... oh yeahhhhh. Secondly, lean into the ear of the airport security guards ear and just ask them to talk dirty to you, in a really husky voice. Remember, no one else can hear this, so it’s your word against theirs. Follow those steps and I guarantee you, you could walk through that radar thing with an A-K-Forty-Seven up your ass, because the only thing that airport security guard is thinking about, is having a shower on their lunch break to wash away that filthy experience that you’ve just put them through. And as a get out clause if you do get busted, you just claim you’ve got some bullshit mental touchy feely, freak-out condition, like Tactile Arousal Syndrome – every man and his dog has got something these days.”
“Let me get my hammer, chisel and tablet of stone out to make sure I get this down for future generations,” Lenny said.
“By the way scruffy unkempt attire is recommended,” Chuck added. “And wearing on non-matching shoes is a definite deal closer.”
“That won’t be much of a stretch for you, he looks like a hobo,” Max said looking to Minnie for validation. “Doesn’t he look like a hobo?”
Minnie was too busy preparing Max’s meatloaf, to listen to Chuck’s latest rant. But Chuck did look like a hobo – I’d spent time on the streets with people who were much better groomed, than he was in his current state.
“And he’s leaving Mexico for legal reasons!” Lenny said. “You try that caper at the airport and you’re next tips will involve prison breaks.”
“Just as well our new sponsor is an air freshener, if he smells anything as bad as he looks, the Movi’s will be moving out,” Rufus said.
Max lifted himself to his feet and shuffled out the kitchen door. “Speaking of which, I’m off for my bath,” he said. “Kidnapping does bring out the worst in one.”
“Air freshener?” Chuck asked. “What happened to the vegan dog slop?”
“You did,” Lenny said. “That’s long gone. Calling it vegan dog slop, probably didn’t help sales. Our new sponsor is an air freshener,” Lenny said.
“Air fresheners are a ruse – a lie,” Chuck said matter-of-factly.
Lenny threw his hands up.
“Someone better call Flowers and Harvey Spinks and tell them to start looking for a new sponsor,” Rufus said.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Chuck said. “But you go into a bathroom that’s been nuked with air freshener and you take a deep whiff of vanilla or lavender or whatever, then seconds later, the stink sneaks up on you and mugs you. It’s like walking into a public toilet at three in the morning, and seeing a white fluffy bunny rabbit just sitting there, then suddenly, four fat sweaty bastards in gimp masks jump out of a cubicle and gang rape you.”
“I would say that’s a teensy weensy bit of an exaggeration,” Lenny said. “But what I’d really like to know is, what were you doing in a public bathroom at three in the morning and were the fat sweaty bastards in gimp masks very short or was it a particularly large cubicle?”
“Maybe it was the disabled cubicle that they were hiding in,” Rufus added. “Roomier!”
“That’s really inconsiderate of them,” Lenny said.
“Hypothetical!” Chuck said. “But I’m telling you, using air fresheners is a waste of time, it’s like spraying cotton candy at a leaky asbestos plant – a jip. And it’s bad for the environment.”
“I can almost hear the executives shredding our sponsorship contract,” Rufus said.
“This is going to be my last broadcast from outside the States, so I might as well go out with a bang,” Chuck said.
“You sure know how to leave a trail of destruction,” Minnie said, like she was enjoying his swansong.
“We all have our skills Grandma, some are more obvious than others.”
“Yours tend to leave a bright burning glow on the horizon Chuck,” Minnie said in a droll tone.
“Damn that’s poetic Grandma. There’s no better way to make an exit, than lit up in a bright burning glow. On that note, Chuck Movi signing off,” he said saluting the camera. “Oh and by the way Lenny, can you pick me up at the airport tomorrow? I get in at seven in the PM.”
Chuck’s head disappeared.
“At least the old ladies at the retirement home will have their resident stripper back in the fold,” Lenny said.
“Quick meeting upstairs,” Minnie said.
Lenny switched my onboard camera off and another emergency meeting was conducted in Minnie’s bathroom, while Max sat naked in the bath, as our centerpiece. He protested at first but knew that plans needed to be laid, since Murray had come back in the game. He clambered to preserve his dignity with a loofah, the length and width of a French breadstick, but Bunny insisted on a more surefire approach and piled towels into the water. She gazed blankly at the ceiling to avoid any potential trauma. Max’s looked like he was soaking in a long, pink, ceramic washing machine. He growled that they better come to a quick conclusion, as he couldn’t afford the wrinkles and he wanted his meatloaf. Minnie declared the plan was simple – once Murray was released, legal proceedings were to begin. We were to throw the first punch – as heavy as possible. Rufus was the only one to question whether we doing the right thing.
“Aren’t we just throwing the baby out with the bathwater? And no, Pop I’m not talking about you,” he said to Max. “When are we ever going to get an opportunity like this again?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever said this in my entire life, but I think Rufus might be right,” Bunny said.
Minnie looked disappointed with her son. She moved over to him and put her hand on his head like she was giving him a blessing. He looked like a little boy. A sixty-plus little boy in a faded ‘Pete’s Printing’ t-shirt. “Rufus, this is not us,” she said. “Some things shouldn’t be. There will be lots of other opportunities and who knows what all this madness will bring.”
And that was that. He simply nodded and said nothing. No one argued. The room fell quiet apart from a continuous drip from the tap at the end of Max’s bath. There was no question, that we were not putting a stop to everything – it was going to be over.
As everyone filed out of the bathroom, Lenny switched my camera back on and shut me into the room with Max. I heard him laughing outside the door. Max climbed out of the bath covered in wet towels like one of those swamp creatures in horror films that I used to watch with Rufus, very late at night. I liked those films, because we always ate lots of potato chips. My camera light lit up. The towels slipped from Max’s body and slopped onto the bathroom floor, like he was some reptilian creature shedding its skin. Howls of laughter came from the kitchen downstairs. Max approached the blinking red glow coming from my back, through the fogged up room. He stood in front of me completely naked and finally realized that he was live on air. I’d never send him naked before – he looked strange. The long soak in the bath had shriveled his body even more than usual. He didn’t get angry, he laughed – he laughed maniacally. He laughed louder than I’d ever seen him laugh before. The laughter downstairs increased. Max howled like a wolf. “Is this what you want to see? Is this it? Is this entertaining you?” he asked, as he jumped from foot to foot with his foot long balls swinging between his legs like a pendulum. “You have got to be kidding me, an old man with his balls hanging out!”
I didn’t know why he was so happy but I joined in and barked happily at him a few times. He danced around for a few minutes before he tired and slunk down onto the edge of the bath. He stared at me for a while. His expression changed. His limbs hung limp from his body. He called me over and leaned down into my onboard camera and rasped, “My God, entertainment is fucked.”
I’d never heard him use that word before – Lenny, Chuck, Dallas, Bunny and Muffy, yes, many times but Max – never. The red glow in the room faded.