- BigBadSteve
- Apr 29, 2009
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It was a knock at the door that woke Doobie from his dreamless sleep. He had drifted off in his easy chair watching reruns of Mama's Family. Blinking, he sat up, unsure at that moment just what had roused him from his slumber. On the TV they were showing an infomercial for a deep fryer that could also jerk meat. Gotta get me one of those, Doobie thought. The knock came again. He turned his eyes from the screen to the door. He didn't like the sound the knock made. It was quiet, sure, respectful even, but there was some sort of desperate yearning hidden beneath. It set him on edge. It came again.
With a grunt, he heaved himself up from his chair. The clock on the VCR under the TV set said 2:33am. Who could it be at this hour?, he wondered. At the door, he paused for a moment, pondering for a second or two whether or not he should open it. It could be an emergency. His mother could be sick, after all. But the knocks weren't loud enough, not hurried enough. Still, he thought, I probably should. The knock came once more. He figured he definitely should, since it seemed the person on the other side wasn't going away, and he didn't want to risk waking up Tasha with anymore knocks. He reached out and opened the door. A figure, dimly lit in the porch light, appeared. Doobie blinked.
"Mr. Wade?"
The man stood there, mouth hanging open, leaning slightly back as if he was afraid of Doobie, white hair mussed like he had just rolled out of bed, wearing a tan coat half-zipped over dark blue pajamas. One side of the coat hung lower than the other from some heavy weight inside.
"Everything okay, Mr. Wade? It's early," Doobie said.
"Been think... " With a sound like dry leaves crunching underfoot, Mr. Wade hocked up a yellowish wad of phlegm, spitting it out on the threshold. "Been thinkin' about them beans."
Doobie blinked again. Beans?
"Beans?" he said.
"Been thinkin' a whole bunch on them beans, Wayne."
Doobie shifted nervously in the doorway, smiling. Mr. Wade just stood there, leaning back slightly, blinking. He coughed and shot out another gob of yellow mucus onto the threshold.
"Uh, well, I-"
"'Member, you done took a photo of me eatin' them beans," Mr. Wade said that in that infuriatingly laconic way he had about himself. Doobie, now realizing, nodded.
"Right, yeah, the beans. Sure. But the Dog House is gone, Mr. Wade. Been that way for some time. Been haulin' cargo for Royal now as job wise."
"Invite me in. Where's that Robinson hospitality?"
"Well, I would, but, ya see, it's-"
"Been dreamin' about them beans, Wayne. They ain't the right color, and they float about in a blackish void full of the screams of the universe, and they talk in strange voices like stars collidin'. But I know they them beans. I have a hunger, Wayne. A void stirrin' in me, and I fill it up with all kinds of vittles, but ain't nothin' fill me up. You ever have a hunger like that, Wayne? Deep. Dark. Desperate." He paused a moment, smiling. "Invite me in."
Doobie, unsure about what to do next, stepped aside. Mr. Wade sauntered in, humming some tune Doobie couldn't identify. Shutting the door, he turned to his guest.
"So, like I says, Mr. Wade, the Dog House is-"
Mr. Wade pulled the big Ruger Blackhawk from its hiding place in the jacket. Doobie stepped back, pressing up against the door. Behind Mr. Wade, a scream broke the silence.
"Mornin', Tash," the crazed man said. Doobie looked around him to see his wife standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
"It's okay, Sugarpie," he said. Mr. Wade motioned with the Ruger that Doobie should join her. As Doobie circled around him, he followed with the gun. Doobie sidled up to Tasha, taking her hand. He looked at her and saw her jaw quivering, and for some reason thought of a stone arch caught in an earthquake. He looked to Mr. Wade. "What do you want?"
"Been thinkin' about them beans."
"Jesus, Mr. Wade, I just got them at the Walmarts and-"
"Don't you think I've looked?!" the man shouted, pulling back the hammer on the Blackhawk. Doobie and Tasha flinched at the noise. "Don't you think I've tried the beans, all the beans? But they ain't them beans I've been thinkin' about! But I think you done bought them all, didn't you? You always bought too much, Wayne. I seen what you said you on the computer, about those chicken wings. But them beans... those don't go bad, in their cans. You bought them beans and you kept them, didn't ya?"
Doobie shook his head. "No, no, I swear, Mr. Wade, they was just regular old pinto beans from the Walmarts."
Mr. Wade stood there for a moment, gun steady as a rock. He cracked a smile. "Where the kids?"
"What?"
"Where the kids?"
"They... they're at their Moo-maws."
"Good. Wouldn't want the little ones to wake up and see this." He stepped forward.
"God, no," Tasha whined.
Doobie threw his hands up. "No, wait! Wait! You're right... you're right, Mr. Wade, I did keep them all. Got some in the larder. Why don't you sit down, and I fix you up a mess of beans, right quick?"
Mr. Wade smiled wider. "That's more like it, that there Robinson hospitality." He walked into the kitchen, the Doobies retreating from the muzzle of the gun. He sat, pointing the gun at Tasha. "You stay. No funny stuff now, hear?"
Doobie nodded rapidly, turning quickly and disappearing into the larder. He pulled the cord on the lamp and in the swaying light he searched for something, anything. There has to be some beans, trick that crazy bastard, he thought. He searched and searched, tossing cans and boxes onto the floor in his terrified frenzy.
"Careful now. Don't wanna hurt them beans," Mr. Wade chuckled from the other room. Doobie kept looking, breathing rapidly, sweating in the close room, until, finally, he found two old cans of kidney beans hidden away. He won't even notice, he thought, blowing the dust from them.
Back in the kitchen, he presented the cans to Mr. Wade, setting them on the table in front of him. He smiled and nodded. Mr. Wade smiled back.
"Think I'm stupid, boy?" Mr. Wade nudged the cans with the muzzle of the revolver. Tasha slipped away as he stared at Doobie. "Think I can't read?"
Doobie shook his head rapidly. "No, no! They're beans!"
"They ain't them beans!" he roared, smashing his empty fist on the table, raising the gun.
Just then, a flash of reflected light, then an explosion of glass and the sickening crack of a skull breaking. The gun fell to the floor. Tasha stood panting behind Mr. Wade, her hand cut from the broken vase she just brought down on his head. Water and petunias scattered over the table and linoleum.
Mr. Wade stood, stumbling drunkenly, blood rushing from the lacerations on his scalp, pouring from his nostrils. He opened his mouth and more tumbled forth, his teeth stained crimson. He stared at Doobie with unfocused eyes. "Been think... been... beams... thhh-"
He crashed to the floor. Doobie rushed to Tasha, grabbing hold of her, hugging her tight. She shook as she sobbed.
"You did it, Sugarpie, you saved us."
"What happened to him?" she asked.
"I don't know. I don't know."
"Do you think one of those queer Northern froggers coulda got to him?"
"Could be. Could be."
The End
I appreciated the opportunity to read this classic fanfiction again.
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Jan 11, 2023 21:58
