David Ohle - The Pisstown Chaos

"Hey, you!" Ophelia barked. "This place may look a shambles, but it's not abandoned. I could go out for a walk and step in that."

The postman hiked up his pants. "There's a letter from your grandmother." He waved it in the air. "You're lucky I didn't wipe with it."

"Give it to Red. And if you do that again, I'll take it up with one of Hooker's legal wigs. I'll file a peace bond. This is just too much."

"It's from Permanganate Island. She infested?"

"That's none of your business!" Ophelia shouted.

"And if I catch you leaving those smelly brown parcels on this property again," Red warned from the servant's entrance, "I'll strangle you. The smell catches the night breeze and blows in the windows. It brings flies. You've probably contaminated the pond, too, you lout!"

The postman climbed into the Q-ped and strapped himself in. "Here's what I think of you kind of people." He poked a finger into his mouth and pretended to vomit as he pedaled down the lane.

Red brought Ophelia the letter from Mildred. "There's your mail. Now it's time for my nap in the sunroom. Please don't disturb me until supper time." He closed the door softly and tiptoed down the creaky stairs.

Ophelia read the letter, then responded:

Dear Grandmother,

I am in receipt of your letter to Roe and me, though I have to tell you, Roe got his shifting orders. I came to tears when I watched from an upper window as he left home. He carried his saw and bow in a canvas bag over one shoulder, a duffel bag that I had packed for him over the other, and a little impskin satchel for medicine and personal items, including a bottle of homemade cough syrup. Don't worry, I followed your recipe exactly: one measure of honey, one ounce hydrate of turpentine, persimmon juice and a generous spoon of Jake powder.

So sorry to hear they've confined you that way without your creature comforts. Even though it is springtime here, I haven't been singing much. The hydrangea did bloom, but sparingly. The soil, I think, has been tainted by seepage from Peters's latrine. Incidentally, you'll want to know, he burned himself when he tried your method of getting rid of the wasps in the potting shed. The flaming rag fell right in his face and set his hair on fire, then the wool of his sweater. He was flaming head to shoulders when he plunged into the pond. Other than burnedoff eyebrows and hair, he isn't terribly disfigured. In fact, Red thinks he looks better. Yes, the swan is still alive, barely. The neck droops, it falls often. It doesn't have long.

As to me, I just pass the time waiting for my shifting orders. When I'm gone, we'll have only Red and the yard man to care for the place. Of course, they could be shifted, too, then what?

Love,

Ophelia

Red rushed upstairs one morning just after dawn and bit Ophelia on the wrists and face, vicious bites that left welts and little scabbings for weeks. "Next time," he said, "I'll cut your head half-off with a bread knife."

Sitting up in bed, Ophelia asked, "What have I done? I've done nothing."

"There was a muddy print on the Oriental carpet in the foyer. It was yours. That rug was your grandmother's favorite. I spent half the night cleaning it."

"If Peters would fix the walkway it wouldn't be such a bog."

Red's body sagged as if a current had been suddenly cut off. "It was an impulse. An urge I could not rein in. I'm so, so sorry. I can be as unpredictable as the weather, a sudden storm on a sunny day. The fury often comes after a period of serene, languid calm. Whatever the mood, it typically lasts from one sunrise to another."

"Is that a reason to bite me? What if I'm infested now?"

"I'm parasite-free. Don't be alarmed."

Red dressed Ophelia's wounds, first applying tincture of Mercurochrome, then a layer of French clay. "These things are beyond understanding or explanation. You won't tell your grandmother, will you?"

"Do anything like that again and I will."

Backing from the room, Red said, "I'll get your breakfast now."

That night Ophelia sat upright in bed, nursing her wounds, chewing on a plug of imp meat and drinking a bottle of Jake. A half-moon, prominent in a close corner of the sky, looked low enough to bounce off hilltops and threw a milky light into the room. It was as perfect as nights ever got for thinking things over.

What would happen to the estate if her shifting orders came? It would be left in the care of the butler and the yard man and that would be the death-knell. It would be overtaken by roving stinkers and displaced shiftees before the persimmon trees turned brown. When the thought of persimmons crossed her mind, she made a mental note to write a real note to the yard man, asking him to pick a bucket of them and bring it to Red, who would bake some of them in a pie and make jam of the rest.

She then gave thought to avoiding the shift by going to the Balls summer home on Square Island. She could lay low there awhile. She could claim, truthfully, that she was away when her papers came and never saw them.

Red burst in suddenly, without knocking, unlinking Ophelia's chain of thought, and sat cross-legged on the floor. "I haven't been well," he said.

"Neither have I." Ophelia displayed her now-inflamed bites. "Look what you did to me."

"I've already extended apologies. What more do you expect?"

"What did you come in here for? I'm busy thinking things over.

"I have a case of the heebie-jeebies." He went to the window. "Look, there's the all-night pedal tram to Bum Bay. If they shift me somewhere, I guess I'll be on it one of these days."

"I hope you aren't shifted any time soon, Red, because I'm thinking of going to the Island for a few weeks and you'll be left in charge, you and Peters. If my shifting papers come, which I expect they will very soon, leave them in the box."

"Yes, Miss. We'll keep the stinks away, too."

"Good. If you let the first one get a foothold here, it's ants on a sticky bun."

"That's right, Miss."

"You can go now. I'm getting sleepy. And tell Peters to pick a bucket of persimmons tomorrow."

"G'night, Miss. I'll go out and tell him right now. He and I are developing a close friendship."

When the sun reached mid-heaven the next morning, Red brought Ophelia her breakfast. "Here's your starch bar and urpflanz tea. Anything else? I'm off to the potting shed again. Last night I saw some tasty-looking mushrooms sprouting from the peat. I'll be back with some to cook for dinner."

"Yes, fine."

In an hour, after Ophelia had napped and gone downstairs for a little sit in the sunroom, Red returned with a sack of mushrooms, knocking the mud from his boots with a dandelion fork. "Look what I've got for dinner." White and puffy, they smelled like starch, and fat little beetles were feeding on them.

"Yes, that's nice. Now, Red, for your information, I'll be leaving for Square Island in a few days. Please oil the pedal chains and grease the bearings in my Q-ped. It's been put up so long it must be rusting by now."

"Very well, Miss. Count on me to keep an eye on things while you're gone. Supper at seven. We're having eel stew tonight just the way your grandmother cooks it. Peters caught them this morning in the Canal. They're very fresh."

"Mmmmmm."

Carrying the thought of a nice eel stew upstairs with her, Ophelia lay down in her tub to bathe. When she turned on the spigot, little green clumps of duckweed and a few minnows came out with the water. When the tub was full, she felt like she was sitting in an aquarium. She added scented oil to the water to mask its earthy scent. She tried to shave her legs, but what was left of the bar of soap wouldn't make decent suds. With the first stroke of the razor, one that once belonged to her grandfather, she cut her ankle and bled.

When the bath was over and she had dried off with a freshly laundered towel, a rusty film covered her body. Her face and hands appeared gray. When she went down for dinner, feeling poorly, she found the dining room lit by candles and the table set with her grandmother's china and silverware. A pitcher of Jake and a mushroom pie had been carefully positioned between two crystal vases that sprouted fresh geraniums. All the chairs but two, placed side by side, had been taken away.