My Dog Spike

My Dog Spike

By Forrest W. Schultz

 

I got the idea of writing "my Dog Spike" from a book with a similar title I just finished reading: My Dog Skip by Willie Morris. But there the similarity ends. For one thing, my father's farm and our Pennsylvania Dutch community were very different – both sociologically and geographically – from the area in Mississippi where Morris spent his boyhood.

More importantly, Spike was a very different kind of dog from Skip. Spike could not perform any great feats, such as playing football or rescuing me from danger. But he excelled any other dog I have ever known or heard of in his friendliness. Spike was such a beloved dog because he was so friendly. I also liked him because he enjoyed taking long walks with me.

Now this brings up one thing I did not like about him – his penchant for running away, which necessitated our keeping him on a leash. Although we tried to be careful, every now and then Spike would get loose and run away. One time he was gone for so long that we thought we would never see him again. Then one day he turned up on the school playground during recess. My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Rapp, was very strict but she knew when exceptions were in order: she allowed me to bring Spike into the classroom and I was permitted to use the school telephone to call my mother to come and get him.

My sisters also loved Spike. The best photograph ever taken of him was with my sister Janet.

When I went away to college in Philly, the crowded urban environment there gave me a sort of "claustrophobia" so that after five days I was about at my limit, and so I returned home each weekend of my freshman year. And the first thing I did then was to run in blessed relief through the pastures with my dog Spike.

Morris lacked one great experience with his dog that I had with mine. He was away in England when his dog Skip died. I happened to be back home when my dog Spike died. By then he was very old and spent almost all of his time lying down in the house. I happened to be sitting in a chair near him when he breathed his last. I took him out into the yard and buried him. I was 23 when he died and had had him since I was 9, when he was a puppy. So he had lived the equivalent of about a hundred years for a man.

My mother got other dogs but they were just dogs – none was memorable, as Spike was.

 

AVENGERS: OLD AND NEW

Avengers --  Old and  New

By Forrest W. Schultz

 

     Around here we take care of each other.  As the closest male relative of my widowed aunt, I am her designated avenger, the one commissioned to execute the man who raped her last night.  This man – if "man" he can be called – lives in a different kind of rural "community" – one where the Sheriff knows of the rapes committed by this "man" and his brother, but does nothing about them.
   
  After I arrived at the summit of a high hill about a mile from the brothers' farmhouse at about 10 AM, I set up my high powered telescope to conduct a visual surveillance.  I was not surprised when I saw no one or any sign of activity, because the brothers are not expected to return until shortly after twelve noon.  It is Wednesday, and the town (where their auto repair business is located) is still following the traditional rural Southern practice of closing businesses on Wednesday afternoons.

     I was surprised to see a wrecker truck pull into the driveway at 10:29 AM – why had they come home so early?  But, then I looked closely and realized that this was not the wrecker owned by the brothers' business.  Several minutes after it disappeared from view behind the barn, I saw a young woman cautiously walk out of a door in the front of the barn and make her way toward a small building in between the barn and the house.  She entered this building and positioned herself at a window facing the carport at the side of the house.

     An excellent plan!  If the brothers parked in the carport, this would give the woman a direct shot into the side window of their truck.  Indeed, this is precisely what happened!

     As soon as their pickup truck pulled in and came to a stop, the woman shot and killed both with what appeared to be some kind of laser weapon.  She then ran to the back of the barn, drove her wrecker to the carport, and pulled the pickup truck up onto its bed, and drove out the back driveway for a short distance, then over an abandoned road to an abandoned quarry.  She backed the wrecker up to the edge, and then dropped the pickup truck with its executed rapist occupants down into the quarry where it landed in a lake and rapidly plunged into its depths.

     I guess I just saw a new style of avenger, i.e. one of today's tough new women.  On second thought, tough women are not so new.  Some of those old Mountain Mommas were pretty tough!!


February 21, 2011

THE CYANOROD

THE CYANOROD

By Forrest Wayne Schultz

     This morning I received a call from a lawyer informing me that I was the heir of Mr. Sam Jones, a man I had never heard of, who had lived near Jonesville, a town I had never heard of. The estate consists of a beautiful historic country house (and the 100 acres of woodland in which it is nestled) plus a hefty stock portfolio plus a brand new BMW!

     The will contains no explanation as to why I am the designated heir nor does the lawyer have any idea. After I signed the pertinent documents transferring the estate into my name, I got into my brand new BMW to head out to my country estate where I was greeted by John and Joan Trimble, the couple who does the housekeeping and building & grounds work.

     I was favorably impressed with the Trimbles, especially concerning the excellent job they have been doing keeping everything in tip top shape. But they were unable to give me any idea of why Sam Jones had named me as his heir. Since almost all of their work is routine, their contact with Jones had been minimal, so that they never got to know him very well. All they could tell me was that he had been a recluse and that every day he took a long walk in the woods and spent the rest of the day holed up in his study with its large library of old books.

     Of all the places on the estate to look for the answer to my question it appeared that the study was the most promising. Its book case contained the books he had been reading, the desk contained his files, and the computer on his desk may hold some secrets, though he did not use it much.

     While trying to decide where to start my investigations, I noticed hanging on the wall an exquisite painting of an unusual medallion: its center depicted (clad in shiny silver armor and ready for battle) a valiant knight whose right hand (fisted and placed upon his heart as a sign of submission to his king) held a very small brilliant bluish-green rod, which was the focal point of the painting. Since the knight was grasping this Cyanorod as as though it were his sword, it appeared that he was about to wield it as his weapon. As I was pondering this anomaly, the painting changed into a three-dimensional holographic projection with the Cyanorod extended in my direction beckoning me to pick it up and wrap the palm of my right hand around it.

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     As soon as I palmed the Cyanorod I was transported into another world in a manner that was no different than walking out of one room and into another. There was absolutely no sound at all, no flashing lights, no shimmering air, no "woo woo" music in the background or any of the other phenomena associated with such a thing in the popular fantasy literature and films. The mage who did this – if mage it was – is clearly a very sophisticated one, not like the childish ones who add in all the extraneous stuff!
     Upon my arrival in this new world I was told to insert the tip of the Cyanorod into a small recess in the center of a circle on the wall in front of me and to hold it there until it popped out, which took exactly 1.618 seconds. I then palmed the Cyanorod, was told "well done", and was returned to the study, whereupon I re-inserted the Cyanorod into the hologram, which then collapsed back into the painting on the wall.

     I was not told why this happened or what the Cyanorod did. Maybe I saved a planet or a galaxy or an alternate universe or something. Who knows? But I DO know that I did the right thing, and that is what is really important.



October 10, 2010

Grantville, Georgia

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WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE CLINT EASTWOOD -- FOR A FEW MINUTES??

Would You Like To Be Clint Eastwood -- For A Few Minutes??

By Forrest Wayne Schultz

     After introducing himself to me, the lawyer asked me this question. He was very serious. It turns out that I have an identical twin brother who had just died and made me his heir. And he liked to dress like Clint Eastwood and act like Clint Eastwood and his nickname was Clint. This became very clear when the lawyer showed me around his, now my, house, which was full of photographs of him dressed like Clint did in his Western films. And now, according to his will, the lawyer said, I needed to remove my clothes now and don my twin's Clint Eastwood clothes and submit to the ministrations of his hair stylist. This sounds very exciting, especially to a semi-nerd like me! In a few minutes I look exactly like my twin did in his Eastwood persona. And then – whew! – I feel my twin's spirit inside of me influencing my attitude, so that I actually want to look like Clint and act like Clint and am raring to go!!
     
     The lawyer and the stylist were very pleased as they hurried me from the house and into my twin's tough-guy ATV, a macho man's jeep, which I then drive with great excitement following the lawyer at a rapid gait through the countryside arriving just in time to rescue Laura from three very bad men, who had just murdered my twin a few hours ago.

     I made a very dramatic entrance into the yard in front of the house of the bad guys, squealing the tires and doing a "doughnut" and then screeching to a sudden stop and exiting from the jeep in Clint Eastwood style. There was one slight difference, which I noticed as I closed the car door and saw in my reflection in the mirror that my hat, face, shirt, pants, and cowboy boots were shining very brightly, which explained the horror on the faces of the bad guys who stood terrified on the porch of the house with Laura.

     I said not a word. I pointed to Laura, who thereupon left the porch and ran over to me. I pointed to the ATV, and she got in. I pointed to the lawyer, who also is a justice of the peace. He walked over to the bad guys and presented them with a court order requiring them to leave the county immediately. They were so scared that they hurried into their truck and drove away pronto.

     As I got into the ATV, my twin left me and the aura about me disappeared. Laura said to me: "You're not Clint! And why did you let those bad guys get away. You should have killed them!"

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     "You are right. I am not Clint. I am his twin. Look through the windshield now and you will see Clint ready to answer you."

     "Hello, Laura! I am not finished with this yet. I am about to leave you. In my place you shall see what looks like a TV screen. It will show you the fate of the bad guys. But much more importantly, Laura, after you see me deal with them, I shall ascend to my home in Heaven prepared for me by God. Please think about that. I want you to join me there when you die. You know what you have to do. Remember what I told you. Good-bye!"

     Clint left and in his place appeared a picture of the bad guys in their truck driving rapidly down a country road heading toward the county line. Clint appears on the road in front of them. The driver panics, loses control of the truck, which veers off the road, rolls down an embankment, and splashes into the river below, killing all three men. Clint waves goodbye and ascends to Heaven.

     "Are you satisfied now, Laura?"

     "Yes".
     
     "OK, let me take you home now. And I hope you will do what Clint asked you to do!"






September 10, 2010

Grantville, Georgia

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A POSTMORTEM APOLOGY BY PROXY

A POST-MORTEM APOLOGY – BY PROXY

By Forrest Wayne Schultz

When I went to check in to the bed&breakfast inn, the proprietor informed me that my room had been paid for by another party. AND that the same party had also given me the brand new BMW parked out in the lot! After I examined the title and insurance documents, which confirmed what the proprietor had said, she handed me an envelope containing a letter from an attorney informing me that I had an appointment with him at 10 AM the following morning, at which time the source of this largesse would be revealed. Because I was extremely tired, I decided to go to bed at once and postpone any thought about this matter until tomorrow.

After a long and much needed sleep, I awoke refreshed just in time for breakfast and my trip to the attorney’s office through the beautiful spring countryside in my brand new BMW. I arrived right on time and was immediately greeted by the attorney himself and ushered in to his office. His law firm is a one-man operation, which is adequate for the legal needs of this sparsely populated rural area.

Because he sensed my intense curiosity, he got right down to business by informing me that I had an identical twin brother who had just died. I was not his “heir” in the usual sense of the word, because long ago he had made me the co-owner of all his property, so that upon his decease I automatically became the sole owner. The only thing remaining to be done was affixing my signature to the various pertinent documents. The “estate” was also quite simple: several hundred acres of farmland leased to a horse breeder plus money in a stock fund plus a bank account.

There was, though, one complicated matter involved: a letter written to me by my twin requesting, but not requiring, me to do something for him. He had deeply offended a woman and he had written a letter of apology to her but had been unable to muster up the courage to take it to her or even to mail it to her! He had placed the lawyer under obligation to arrange for the letter’s delivery to the woman after his decease. My twin’s letter to me said that he would prefer that I take his letter of apology to the woman on his behalf as his twin brother and acting as his proxy. But I was not legally bound to do this. He did request that if I agreed to do this for him, that I do so very seriously and with a willingness to beseech the woman to forgive him. He warned me that this would not be easy because this lady was a very strong person, a “power” woman, who would not permit a man to push her around. In short, this would be a difficult task for me.

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I knew that this was something I ought to do for my twin. After asking the lawyer a few questions, I agreed to do it, provided that he call the woman on the phone and inform her of the matter and request to see her and introduce me to her. The lawyer agreed to do so and immediately went to the phone to call her. The woman was suspicious at first and asked the lawyer a lot of questions. She finally acceded to his request, mainly, I suppose, because this lawyer was very highly respected around here and is scrupulously honest in both his legal and personal dealings. The woman agreed to see me at once. In a few minutes we drove over to her house, the lawyer introduced me to her, and then left me with her.

She appeared to be satisfied with the honesty of the intentions both of my twin and of the lawyer. Now she asked me about mine. I confessed to her that I had a dual motivation. I felt that since my brother had been so generous in bestowing upon me all his property, that I ought to do this favor for him. And, I looked forward to meeting a “power” woman! I told her I was a semi-nerd, not a macho man like my twin, so I had no hopes on my own of getting such an opportunity to converse with a power woman like her. She smiled and said I was stronger than I supposed. As the repartee continued I was absolutely astonished to see her becoming ever more enamored with me, until she finally said that she would like to have me but she would NOT forgive my twin because what he had done to her was unforgivable.

Thereupon I scowled, stood up, and emphatically proclaimed to her: “If you refuse to forgive my twin, I am walking out of here and you will never see me again!”. As I headed for the door, she entreated me not to leave her, and said she would forgive my twin. After thoroughly interrogating her to be sure she meant it, and getting her to put her forgiveness in writing, I agreed to marry her.

We lived mostly – but not always – happily ever after, and our main secret was that of forgiving one another our trespasses against one another!

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Grantville, GA
August 2010

D. BOONE RESCUED BY A "BAR"

D. Boone Rescued By A “Bar”

By Forrest Wayne Schultz


Few boys ever liked their name as much as Dan’l Boone did. He took great pride in being a direct descendant of THE Dan’l Boone. He loved hearing about all the exploits of his great namesake, especially the one about his famous carving:
“D. Boone Killed A Bar On This Tree”.

Dan’l loved living in the North Georgia mountains. He enjoyed hiking and camping in the large forest next to his house. Some times he went alone and other times he went with his Boy Scout troop. He eagerly learned camping lore, and he especially enjoyed first-aid, which he also learned from his Daddy, who worked for EMS. Whenever Dan’l went on one of his trips into the woods he always took with him his canteen, his first aid kit, his knife, and other Scouting supplies. His carefully followed the Boy Scout Motto: Be Prepared!!

One day when Dan’l was on a long hike deep in the woods, he heard a loud cry that sounded like an animal was hurt. When he left the trail to investigate he found a large bear in great pain from a long tough thorn in one of his paws. So, Dan’l got out his canteen and his first aid kit and went to work. The bear was very intelligent: he immediately knew what Dan’l was doing and he fully co-operated. He ceased his howling and he remained still while Dan’l extracted the thorn and applied disinfectant and balm to the wound. The bear expressed his gratitude to Dan’l by giving him a famous bear hug.

The bear lay down and took a nap to recuperate while Dan’l got out his Boy Scout knife and carved into the trunk of the big tree there these words: “D. Boone Removed A Thorn From The Paw Of A Bear Under This Tree in 2003”.

The carving was hard work and took a long time but it was fun! When Dan’l finished, he got out his canteen and took a swig of water as the bear woke up from his nap. The bear then offered one of his good paws to Dan’l and led him back to the trail.

Two years later Dan’l did a very foolish thing. He left to go on a hike in the woods without taking any supplies with him!! No first aid kit, no canteen, no compass, no knife, nothing at all!! That day Dan’l was NOT prepared! Then he added to his foolishness by wandering off of the trail.

This was a very bad day to be unprepared. For the sky was getting ever darker and the temperature was getting colder and colder until finally it began snowing very hard and soon Dan’l was not only shivering but realized he was hopelessly lost.

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Then he looked and saw a strange sight. Right in front of him the Bear – Yes, the same Bear – appeared and recognized Dan’l and gave him another bear hug and then lifted him onto his back and ran through the woods all the way to Danl’s home. Dan’l was never so glad to be home in all his life!

His mother came to the door just in time to see Dan’l give the bear a goodbye/thank-you hug.

“Yes, Ma! That was THE Bear,” he said.


July 27, 2010
Children’s Fantasy

MY META-MISSION

My Meta-Mission


By Forrest Wayne Schultz


     This story is super-brief, so I shall also be super-brief in explaining the “meta-“ prefix. Just as a meta-statement is a statement about another statement (rather than your typical statement, e.g. about your dog), so a meta-mission is a mission about another mission rather than your typical mission. I needed to make this distinction immediately upon my arrival on this planet because they mistakenly thought I was there for your typical salvific mission. I told them that there was no need for a salvific mission. They already had had a salvific mission. My mission was a meta-mission because it pertained to that previous mission.

     The deadly danger that was threatening to kill all inhabitants of this planet HAD ALREADY BEEN CURED by the previous mission, the salvific mission, i.e. it had given them the CURE! There were two problems. First, the cure was not being administered to all inhabitants. Secondly, those who were receiving the cure were NOT taking the full dosage – they were only taking partial dosages, which did some good but did not wipe out the malady completely.

     Soooo, my meta-mission was to tell them to do two things: 1. administer the cure to all instead of only some; and 2. to take the full dosage, instead of a partial dosage.

     Thus endeth my meta-mission whereupon I returned to Earth but I wondered if it had done any good because there was something about those people that put me in mind of some of the weird denizens of those lands visited in days of yore by the esteemed Gulliver.


July 1, 2010
Grantville, Georgia, USA, Earth, Solar System, Galaxy, Universe