Percival Everett - The Weather and Women Treat Me Fair

Dan had a girlfriend whose name was Alison. She was appalled when she learned of the reward. “I’m appalled,” she said. She marched out into the backyard and dismissed the hunters, told them to find something better to do.

Dan stepped out as the boys were leaving. “Where are you going?” he asked. He glanced at the garden. “Is he dead?”

“No,” said Alison. “I told them to go home.”

“I want that mole dead.” He looked more closely at the garden and saw the demolished plants. “What’s this?” He moved closer to the damage. “Go home!”

That evening, Bill and Dan were visited by their friend Robert. Dan got so worked up while telling Robert about the mole in the garden and his destruction that he was up and pacing and saying he must kill the pest tonight. Alison, who was there, was appalled, Dan said, “I’m going to get a flashlight and jacklight the son-of-a-bitch.”

“No,” Alison said.

“This will work,” Dan said.

Bill and Robert just looked at each other. They followed Alison who followed Dan who went into the backyard with a light and a hatchet.

Dan got down on his knees in the dirt, the light in his left hand, the hatchet held high in his right.

“Dan, would you just look at yourself?” Alison said.

“Go into the house,” Dan said.

Alison stormed away, slamming the back door.

Bill and Robert watched Dan in that position for many minutes. “I don’t think this is working,” Bill said.

Dan wiped perspiration from his forehead with his shirtsleeve as he lowered the weapon.

“What you need is a trap,” Robert said.

“Traps don’t work,” Dan said.

“My son has one that he caught a squirrel in,” Robert said.

Dan stood. “Really? A squirrel?”

“Yes. Would you like to borrow it?”

“Of course I’d like to borrow it. What are you, stupid?”

“We’ll bring it by.”

“Alison’s going to end up hating me,” Dan said.

“Why don’t you just forget the mole,” Bill said.

Dan looked at his brother as if he were crazy. “I can’t forget this animal, this plant-torturer.”

The following day, Robert came by with his son, Ward. Ward was eleven with very thick glasses that made his eyes look big. Ward held in his arms the trap. Bill could never look directly at Ward because of the way the boy’s eyes looked behind those lenses.

“Dan!” Bill called.

Dan came down the stairs, rubbing his hands together at the sight of the trap. He nodded a hello to Robert and looked at Ward. “So, let’s see the trap.”

The boy put the trap down on the floor and began to explain the workings to Dan. He pointed to the rectangular cage. “You put the food back here and when he hits that little wire, the door shuts and you’ve got him.”

“And we’ve got him,” Dan said. He took the trap and the boy into the kitchen to look for bait.

Alison came in through the front door. When she saw Robert she began to shake her head. “You didn’t bring that trap.”

Robert nodded.

She sighed loudly and walked into the kitchen.

Soon, they were all in the backyard. Ward was on the ground, setting the trap. Dan hovered over him. Alison paced.

“I don’t believe you people,” she said. She put her hands on her head. “Stop!”

Dan looked at her. “Calm down. It’s just a mole.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Why don’t you go inside.” Dan looked at his brother. “We’ve set it for a light strike.”

Ward stood up and away from the trap. They went into the house and waited in silence. They ate cake and drank iced tea. Alison sat opposite Dan and just stared at him.

“What is your problem?” Dan finally asked.

“I don’t have a problem,” she said. “The mole has a problem. You have a problem. I don’t have a problem. Tell me why you want to kill that little creature, that poor little creature.”

“That poor little creature, is a vandal. That poor little creature eats better than we do. What about the poor plants he’s killing?”

Things again were silent and tense. Alison’s eyes were still fixed on Dan. He studied the tea in his glass.

Then it was time to check the trap. Dan and Ward led the way out back. There was indeed a small furry ball in the cage. Dan held up the trap and looked at the animal. “At last, we meet.”

“Oh, he’s so cute,” Alison said.

Dan frowned at her, stepped away with the cage.

“He is cute,” Bill said.

“So what?” Dan said. “Atilla the Hun was cute.” He paused, looked at the mole. “He’s cute, but he’s no Bonnie Jean Cox.”

“Who?” Alison asked.

“Never mind.”

“You can’t kill him,” said Alison. “They’re blind, you know.”

Robert answered his son’s question before it was uttered. “No, you may not have him.”

Dan reached into the cage and cautiously grabbed the furry thing. The mole did not bite. He pulled it out and held it in the palm of his hand. “He isn’t all that cute.”

“He likes you,” Alison said. “Awwww.”

“He’s pretty cute,” Bill said.

Ward stroked the mole’s back with a finger. “He’s neat.”

“I’m not going to fall for this stuff,” Dan said. “Tell you what, I’ll let fate decide. I’ll give him a chance.” He went into the house, the mole still in his hand.

“What’s he up to?” Alison asked.

Bill shrugged.

Dan returned from the house with a baseball bat. Standing with them again, he said, “Trial by ordeal.”

“No,” Alison said.

“I’m going to toss him and take a swing.”

“No,” she said.

“He’s never been any good at this,” Bill said.

He tossed the mole up. He planned to miss. He had every intention of setting the mole free, but he wanted this as a theatrical end to the whole affair. He wanted to fan the air in a statement for the power of chance.

It was a good swing. Dan watched his brother’s face. Bill wore the same expression as when they were teenagers and Dan had pointed a rifle in his direction while hog hunting. Bill had been standing on a dike studying signs when Dan came upon some piglets. The sow appeared behind Bill and chased him up the hill. Dan didn’t know what to do. He raised the gun and tried to draw a bead on the hog. Bill’s face was full of surprise and alarm when he saw the rifle, and he fell to the ground as Dan squeezed off the round. The sow was dead on his legs when Bill finally looked up. Dan was already trying to catch the piglets. “We’ve got to get them or they’ll starve.”

Alison screamed. Dan recoiled, almost hitting himself on the face with the bat, as wood meeting mole resulted in a dull thwack.

Bill stepped to his brother’s side and watched with him as the dark ball disappeared over the neighbor’s house. Dan let the bat fall at his feet. Alison ran into the house. Robert quietly led his son away.

Bill scratched his chin. “There you go.”

“The world perhaps was laid out initially with some sort of temporal consistency, but that was soon gone. Out the window. Maybe there never was any kind of consistency. One can certainly imagine creation coming to certain parts of the globe before others, like the telephone or cable. Look around. Jets stretch their exhaust plumes across the skies over thatch huts, people whose main staple is rice watch napalm disintegrate their jungles, some people beat out conversations on hollow logs while the strata above them is filled with microwave signals.” Virgil Boyd re-lit his pipe and sank into his chair. “That’s why,” he told his friend, “I’ve no problem with the period inconsistency within my model.”