Click here to read Friends, Snowmen, Countrymen, Be of Good Cheer. A Tale of Christmas Time. (Part One.).

Click here to read Friends, Snowmen, Countrymen, Be of Good Cheer. A Tale of Christmas Time (Part Two).

Click here to read Friends, Snowmen, Countrymen, Be of Good Cheer, A Tale of Christmas Time (Part Three).

 

Part Four:  Who is Mister R.H.?

We left our friends Phil and Frankie after they had just discovered some very bright coveralls to keep them warm and dry so they can finish building a snowfamily for the little girl in the house next to Phil’s.  We rejoin them now as they  head back out into the snow.

“Frankie, there’s one more thing that’s bothering me.   I wish you would stop calling that girl at The Glass Slipper things like dish and hot number;  she  has a name you know.”

“I figured that out myself , but you haven’t told me her name. ”

“I know.  I’m trying to remember, but you know how terrible I am with people’s names.  It was a nice sounding name too, reminded me of one of my aunt’s.  Olivia, that was it.”

“Olivia?  You have an Aunt Olivia?”

“Yes and she’s a wonderful woman.”

“Olivia huh?  I went to school with a girl named Olivia, all the way from kindergarten through high school.  Nice kid too.  I had a crush on her since I was about twelve, but I was too shy to ever say anything.  I wonder whatever happened to her?  By now she’s probably married to some guy.  Lucky stiff.”

“Here we are, what do we do first?”

“Let’s work on making that base more round.  Here, give me a hand, we’ll roll it a couple more times, and then shape it.”

“All right.   Hey, this goes a lot easier with two people pushing.”

“What did I tell you?  We’ll have Papa here finished in no time, then get to work on Mrs. Snowman.”

“For all you know Frankie, this girl Olivia could be just as nice as the girl you went to school with, or just as wonderful as my aunt, but you talk about her like she is just an object; a dish, a hot number.   What happened to us Frankie?  No just you and I, but everyone:  you used to be a shy kid.  I used to paint just for the love of it.  That guy who bawled me out probably had dreams of building something great for other people when he was a kid.  What happened?”

“We grew up, Curly.”

“Sure, we grew up;  we outgrew some of our childish ways and learned how to get along in the big world, but something else happened Frankie, something that doesn’t have to be a part of growing up, but something people have come to expect and accept just as if it had to be.”

“I suppose we all just naturally get jaded.”

“Jaded ?  Is that another one you picked up from the crosswords?”

“Yeah, Jaded: a five letter word beginning with the letter J for weary, worldly, cynical.

“Cynical, there it is, what did I tell you Frankie?”

“I guess you’ve got something there Curly.”

“Yeah, and I want to unget it.”

“Did you say unget it?”

“Yeah, as in get unjaded and uncynical.  I think I’m finally starting to figure out what all this is leading to;  what I need to do.  If there were just some way I could tip myself over and pour all the cynicism out of me.”

“Sort of like emptying out a hot water bottle.”

“I guess so.”

“Then where would you be?”

“What do you mean, where would I be?”

“A hot water bottle only does any good when it has hot water in it.  Once you pour all the water out, it lays there flat.”

“All right then, I’ll get some new water.  Some fresh, clean, hot water”

“Where?”

“Well, I’ll just–say what do you mean?  You’ve got me going in circles, I’m not a piece of rubber, I’m a human being.”

“Don’t blame me, you’re the one who’s talking about tipping  yourself over and pouring things out.  Would you be happier if I had said a teapot?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just my darn trouble with words, and  I’m so close to having this figured out.”

“Why don’t you get your brushes and paints?”

“My brushes and paint?  How are they supposed to help me figure this out?”

“You said yourself you are better at expressing yourself with colors than words.”

“Yeah, I did say just that.  Colors Frankie, that’s the key.  Thanks for reminding me about the colors.”

“Always glad to help.  Now tell me what I did.”

“You happened to use the word jaded to describe what I was calling cynical, and jade is green, and green is a color.  See what you did?  So what kinds of emotions or personality traits are associated with the color green?” What comes to mind Frankie?”

“An emotion?  Associated with the color green?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, there’s the green-eyed monster, jealousy.”

“You got it.”

“And then there’s green with envy.”

“That’s another one.  And we can’t forget about cynical because of its relationship to jaded.  Now what are some of the same kinds of  things that go with  other colors?”

“Red usually goes with anger.”

“Good, good. Red, rage, anger.”

“Of course red is also the color of love, as in Valentine’s hearts and so on.”

“So it is. We’ll have to careful with red.  Here’s one:  purple is usually associated with pride.  That’s too bad, I really like purple.”

“Where’s all this going Curly?”

“It’s like this Frankie.  I want you to help me to think of all the different  emotions and personal qualities and such that can control a person’s life in terms of the colors associated with them.  Then, instead of trying to pour the cynicism out of myself and ending up like an empty hot water bottle,  I’ll just concentrate on painting my character with the colors associated with the goods things and washing away any of the colors associated with the bad things.”

“So you want to wash away the green and the purple, and be careful how you use red?”

“That’s it Frankie, you’ve got it!”

“And what colors are you going to replace them with?”

“Well, let’s think of some more positive ones besides love.  I know, how about true blue for honesty and steadfastness.”

“Yeah, but there’s also blue as in feeling the blues.”

” I’ll have to figure out just the right shade,  I want there to be plenty of blue, a strong, solid, trustworthy blue.  Here’s another good one,  gold as in heart of gold. “

“But not as in all that glitters is not gold.”

“Right again Frankie, don’t want any fools gold.  I’m after the genuine thing, the kind of gold that shines like the light of the sun or with some kind of divine beauty that illuminates a person from within.  And then, white.  White for purity.”

“Let’s not get carried away.”

“Purity of intent, purity of motive.  Unselfish giving, no strings attached.”

“Okay, throw in some white. Now what have you got?”

“A start, Frankie, a fresh start.”

“So after you wash away the green and the purple, where are you going to find just the ride shade of blue, and the genuine gold, and the white?”

“What do you mean where am I going to find them?”

” You want to get rid of the cynicism and pride, all right.  Where do you get the true  blue honesty and steadfastness, and the genuine heart of gold and the purity you’re talking about?  You can’t just walk into an art supply store for those you know.”

“You mean how do I know if I’m replacing pride and greed with things that are truly good and not just counterfeit?  You’ve got something there Frankie, I hadn’t thought of that.   It’s like you just said, there’s no supply store for virtue.”

“While you think that over, give me a hand with this torso, then we’ll lift the head on and Papa’s built.  I don’t suppose you have a carrot for the nose do you?”

“Not on me, and I’m fresh out of lumps of coal, at least until tomorrow.”

“Hey Curly, hold still for a moment.”

“What is it Frankie?”

“There’s some kind of lettering stenciled on the back of your suit.  I just noticed it.”

“What does it say?”

“Property of M-R-R- H.  Mister R.H.”

“That must be the initials of the guy who lived in the house before me.”

“Kind of strange, him having his clothes stamped like that.  Does it say the same thing on the one I’m wearing?”

“Turn around, let me look.  Yep, there it is all right: Property of M-R-R-H.”

“This Mister R.H. must have thought he was some kind of bigshot to have his initials stenciled on his hunting gear.”

“Yeah, or he really liked this stuff and didn’t want anyone to steal it.”

“What if someone comes along and thinks we stole them, or thinks we’re posing as this Mister R.H.?”

“Frankie, who would steal clothes like this?  You’d have to  be crazy to  want to wear something like this unless you were way out in the woods at hunting season.”

“Yeah, but we’re wearing them.”

“That’s different.  The owner left them behind, and we found them, we didn’t steal them; and we’re only going to wear them until we finish building this snowfamily.  Besides, anyone can tell that we’re not crazy.  And I know I at least don’t look like a thief.”

“Thanks a lot Inspector, what does that make me, the obvious criminal type?”

“You know I’m just fooling with you Frankie.  You look just as honest as I do.”

“Well, that’s some comfort.  I wonder what the initials R.H. stand for?”

“Could be lot’s of names.  Maybe Robert Harrison.”

“Or Roger Hornswoggler.”

“I say, Mr. Harrison, shall we resume?”

“Yes, Mr. Hornswoggler.  Let’s continue with the snowfamily.”

“I can’t handle being called  Hornswoggler, better stick with Babe.”

“All right, Babe, let’s get started on Mama’s base.”

“Let’s have at it, Mr. Bunyan.”

“Hey Curly,  I hate to show my jaded side so soon already, but take a look at this character crossing the street.”

“Why, what about him?”

“Take a look at that kisser, would you?  Did you ever see such a sour puss?”

“Quiet, he’ll hear you.”

“I know that look.  My shop teacher in seventh grade always gave us that look, even when we weren’t doing anything wrong.  I’ll bet he recognizes these jump suits and thinks we stole them.”

“All right Frankie.  Just calm down, we haven’t done anything wrong.  Better let me do the talking until we find out what he wants.  Good afternoon sir, and Merry Christmas.”

 

To be continued…

If you have read this and like it,  please  remember to “Like”  and “Share” with friends on social media.

Notes on  first version:  As with Campfire Creepers: My Friends Head. I acknowledge a debt to the Golden Age of Radio for inspiration in the development of the story line and characters in this piece.  I would like to specifically mention the outstanding Phil Harris and Alice Faye Show  as the basis of the dynamic between the two friends to whom you have just been introduced.  In recognition of the inspiration provided by the Harris and Fay Show, I have named the characters Phil “Curly”, and Frankie, after Phil “Curly” Harris, as himself, and Frankie Remley, who was a real life musician in Phil’s band, but whose character on the show was played by Elliott Lewis.  I hope you shall meet a character named Alice a little later in the story.

To my lovely wife Sarah, thank you for your ongoing support, patience and encouragement.  Thank you for listening to my thoughts and ramblings.  I am grateful  for your feedback, input, and ideas, all of which I value and treasure.

To listen to or find out more about the great radio shows of the past,    I recommend Sirius/XM Radio Classics channel 148 ,   http://www.radiospirits.com  , or http://GregBellMedia.com.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scene:  Outside a rural farmhouse at night.   Joan,  Lou,  and Uncle Charlie are seated around a large fire burning in a pit.

 

Lou:   Uncle Charlie, I want you to promise  me you won’t tell any more stories like that last one.

Uncle Charlie:   I promise Lou, I won’t

Lou:   I mean with those creeper keepers, and the axe, and the head of  cabbage in the bag, and then that crazy friend of yours, Joe, that was just too much for me.

Uncle Charlie:  I’m sorry Lou. I didn’t know it would disturb you so much.

Lou:  I had to sleep with my light on for a whole week.

Joan:  Really?  I was hardly scared at all.

Uncle Charlie:  Yes Joan, I could tell you weren’t frightened.  Well Lou, I really am sorry.  I think the reason the story affected you so much is that you have such a vivid imagination.

Lou: You do?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, you know I was a lot like you when I was your age.  Very credulous, and lots of imagination.

Lou:  Lot’s of imagination, like me?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, and  everyone in the family knew it, so they were always coming up with ways to trick me, or to see if they could frighten me.

Joan:  You mean they would try to frighten you, like you did with us, I mean Lou?  Did it ever work, like it did with Lou?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, quite often it did.   I remember one stunt they pulled on me at this very spot, yes, and I was about the same age as you two are now.  It was the night of the big family corn roast,  just like tonight, and Uncle Fred and I were sitting here tending the fire, keeping the coals hot,  just like we are now.  All of sudden Uncle Fred realized he had left his pipe  tobacco up at the house.  I offered to go get it for him, but he insisted on getting it himself, and so he left me here, all alone, in the dark.

Lou:  That was not very considerate of Uncle Fred, leaving you all alone, in the dark,  just a mere wisp of a boy.

Uncle Charlie:  That’s just what I thought Lou, but of course I didn’t know the plan.

Lou:  The plan?  I get it, Uncle Fred left you all alone on purpose.  He was going to try and put one over on you.

Uncle Charlie:  Exactly.  I was all alone   Or so I thought.  Now I should mention that in my youth we had no vast costume stores like you see pop up at Halloween, nor did we have the internet from which to order every kind of conceivable costume.  In those days you had to make due with whatever was around the house, and almost every house had at least one old plain white bed sheet that had seen better days and so been relegated to duty as a drop cloth or some such use.  It was these sheets, that once they fell into the hands of mischief makers such as my Uncle Fred and Uncle Wilmot, often became the essential item in a scary costume.  A pair of scissors or a pocket knife to cut out two hole for the eyes, and there you have it: an instant ghost!

Lou:  A ghost!  Uncle Charlie!

Uncle Charlie:  What’s that Lou?  You asked me to tell you about how the family used to try and frighten me.

Lou:  Joan asked you.  First the cabbages and now a ghost.  I don’t like the sounds of this.

Uncle Charlie:  Suit yourself Lou.  I thought you would like to hear about what Uncle Fred and Uncle Wilmot tried to pull on me.

Lou:  Was it a good one?

Uncle Charlie: It was a very good one.

Lou:  Okay Uncle Charlie.  Let’ hear it.  I mean, how bad can it be when I already know it’s just Great Uncle Fred and Great Uncle Wilmot trying to scare you?  Why should I be afraid of a story like that?

Uncle Charlie:  That’s the spirit, Lou.  Well, as I said, I thought I was all alone.  Pretty soon my imagination started  playing tricks on me.  Ordinary nocturnal sounds suddenly seemed threatening.  Normal shadows  took on a sinister character as they flickered around the red glow cast by the fire.  I was starting to feel pretty frightened, and  I remember wishing that Uncle Fred would hurry back, when it happened–

Joan:  A ghost?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, a ghost!   Or rather  Uncle Wilmot posing as a ghost.  He started from behind that tree with a long, low moan, then suddenly sprang into view, draped in the old bedsheet,  waving his arms and making the most horrible sounds.

Lou:  I sure  bet you  were  scared.

Uncle Charlie:  By all rights I should have been frightened out of my wits,  if,  by what I have always considered the most amazing juxtaposing of events,  I hadn’t  seen a real ghost in this very spot not two nights before.

Joan: Uncle Charlie?

Uncle Charlie: Yes dear?

Joan:  Did you say a real ghost?

Uncle Charlie: Yes.

Lou: Right in this very spot?

Uncle Charlie:  Yes, in fact it was right by that very tree.

Lou:  This tree.

Uncle Charlie:  No, not that tree.  That tree.  I’ll never forget the way it just seemed to appear.  I suppose that’s why ghosts are commonly referred to as apparitions,  because that’s what this one did;  it just appeared  out of the still, clear, dark night air.   Gave me quite a start too.  Now it seems I was wanting to get something from the house.  Ah, yes I remember.  If you two will excuse me for just a few moments,   I’ll try not to be long.  Keep those coals going, the corn will be ready soon. (Exits)

Lou:  Uncle Charlie? Uncle Charlie?

Joan:  Oh, he’s gone already Lou.   Gone and left us alone.

Lou:  Alone.  Boy, it sure is dark out here.  Funny how it seems like we’re so far away from everybody else, when the house is just back there.  I can see the lights in the windows just by turning around.

Joan: Yes, there they are, right there.

Lou:  But they seem farther away all of a sudden.  And I don’t hear  voices any more, not my mother, or my father, or any of the aunts and uncles, or any of the little cousins.

Joan: It does seem quieter all of a sudden.

Lou:  I wonder why none of the little cousins are out here with us?

Joan:  Oh, I don’t know.  Probably just afraid of the dark.  You know how little kids are.

Lou: Do I!

Joan:  What’s that Lou?

Lou:  Oh, nothing, it just that I’m glad you are here with me Joan.  I know your not a big scaredy -cat like I am.

Joan:  Scared Lou?  You shouldn’t be scared.  I’m not scared.  Why, that would be silly.  Who would be scared out here on a night like this.  It is a beautiful night isn’t  it, Lou?

Lou:  If you say so.

Joan:  I mean, there really is no reason for either one of us to be afraid.  You’re not really afraid, are you Lou?

Lou: Not if you’re not afraid.

Joan:  There, you see.

Lou: Joan?

Joan:  Yes Lou?

Lou:  You’re not afraid, are you?

Joan:  Why of course not.  There’ s nothing to be afraid of, even if Uncle Charlie did leave us all alone out here in the dark after telling us he had seen a real ghost almost exactly in this very spot on a night just like this, why I–I–Yii what was that?

Lou: I heard it too.  Joan, what if the ghost has come back?

Joan:  Oh Lou I am scared.  I see something moving in the dark.  Lou what is it?

Lou:  I can’t tell.

Joan: Don’t you see it?

Lou: No.

Joan:   It’s right by that tree, how can you not see it?

Lou:   My eyes are closed.

Joan:  Well open them.

Lou:  Okay.  They’re open.

Joan:  Well?  What do you see?

Lou:  My hands.

Joan: Lou, do something, here it comes!

Bonita:(Off stage)  Lou, Joan  Is that you?

Lou:  There’s nobody here.  Go away.

Bonita:(Entering)  It is you two, why didn’t you answer me?

Lou:  Why did you sneak up on us like that?

Bonita:  I wasn’t sneaking, and besides I asked you first.

Lou:  All right, I’ll tell you, if you promise not to laugh.

Bonita:  I won’t laugh Lou, at least I promise to try not to laugh.

Lou:  Well okay, I didn’t answer because I thought you were a ghost.

Bonita:  A ghost?  You thought I was a ghost?  Really Lou!

Joan:  It’s not as silly as it sounds Bonita.  Uncle Charlie was just here a few minutes ago, and he was telling Lou and I about the time he saw a real ghost, right in this very spot, on a night just like tonight, and then, right after he told us that he said he had to go up to the house and he left us here all alone.

Lou: And then I’m afraid our imaginations started to play tricks on us.

Bonita:  Some imaginations.  Didn’t you hear me call your names?

Joan: You called our names?

Bonita: Yes,  I called out “Lou” and  “Joan”.

Lou: I thought it was “Boo” and a moan.

Bonita: It’s a good thing for you two I showed up when I did.  I wonder why Uncle Charlie left you so suddenly?

Lou: I was wondering the same thing myself.

Joan:  I’m glad you’re here Bonita, all the same I do wish Uncle Charlie would hurry back.

Bonita:  What’s this he was telling you about a ghost?

Lou:  He said it happened right here, that he saw a ghost for real.

Bonita: You don’t think he was joking?

Joan: No. He didn’t even start out to tell us about it.  He just kind of veered into the story.

Lou:  Yeah, first he veered into it, and then he veered off, into the night, leaving us hanging here and the ghost hovering right over there.

Bonita:  Over here?

Lou: Practically over your shoulder.

Bonita:  Oh, look at those coals, I better stir them up.  Is it getting chilly all of a sudden?

Lou: I’ve been feeling chills ever since Uncle Charlie left.

Bonita:  I do wish  he would  would get back soon.   Leaving you two out here after filling your heads with ghost stories, that’s just like Uncle Charlie.

Uncle Charlie (Entering):   Some one call my name?  Here I am.  Ah Bonita, I see you’ve joined our little group.

Bonita:  A fine one you are, leaving these two frightened in the dark.

Uncle Charlie:  Frightened.  Who was frightened?

Lou:  Uncle Charlie, we were  just telling Bonita about the time you saw a ghost, almost exactly in this very spot.

Joan: And she somehow got the impression that we were frightened.

Bonita:  Somehow got the impression?  Why you told me you thought I was a ghost.

Uncle Charlie:  Well, that’s all right kids.  I suppose it is a little frightening when you’re out in here the dark, thinking about the unknown.

Joan:  You said yourself that it gave you quite a start.

Uncle Charlie:  Yes it did, quite a start, at first.  But then–

Lou:  But then you left us out here.  You never got to what happened after “at first”.

Uncle Charlie:  You’re absolutely right Lou.  I’m afraid I owe you both an apology for my sudden departure.  It’s just that I wanted to show you something.  I thought if I could find —

Bonita:  Uncle Charlie?

Uncle Charlie: Yes dear?

Bonita: What’s that?

Uncle Charlie:  What, that, by the tree?

Lou:  There it is, right back at the same tree!  Look at it, it just sort of appeared, the way you said they do.

Joan:  And it’s kind of hovering there.

Bonita:  Oh Uncle Charlie, is it the ghost?

Uncle Charlie: I can’t tell for sure.  Lou, why don’t you go get a closer look?

Lou: Why pick on me?  How should I be able to tell, I’ve never seen a real ghost before?

Joan:  Just hear that awful noise, it’s moaning or crying or something.  Oh Uncle Charlie, look how it seems to be floating up in the tree. It must be the ghost.

Lou:  Come on Joan, Bonita,  let’s get out of here.  Uncle Charlie, I hope you enjoy your reunion with the ghost.

Uncle Charlie:  Come,  come  now, where’s your sense of discovery, your spirit of adventure?

Lou: My spirit is staying away from that spirit, and my sense is telling me to get out of here.  Come on Joan, Bonita!

Uncle Charlie:  Hold on kids, hold on!  All right Huntz, you’d better come down now.

Lou:  Huntz?  Where is Huntz?  I don’t see him.

Uncle Charlie:  He’s right there Lou.

Lou:  Where?  Huntz, oh Huntz!

Joan:  I think Uncle Charlie mean’s that Huntz is the “ghost.”

Lou:  The ghost? You mean that’s Huntz up in the tree?

Uncle Charlie:  Exactly, I wanted to demonstrate to you the trick that Uncle Fred and Uncle Wilmot had played on me, so I went up to the house to see if I could find an old bedsheet.  On my way back  Huntz saw me and asked what I was doing with the sheet.  When I told him what it was for, he begged to try it out on you as a surprise.  I didn’t have the heart to turn him down.  I hope you kids aren’t angry with me, I really was just going to bring the sheet out and put it on after you had seen me.

Lou:  So you mean that is really Huntz dressed up in an old bedsheet?

Uncle Charlie: Yes.

Joan:  Why doesn’t he stop?

Uncle Charlie:  You know how enthusiastic Huntz is for these things.  Huntz,  will you please take the sheet off now.

Huntz:  Did you call me Uncle Charlie?

Uncle Charlie:  Huntz, how did you get down here so quickly?

Huntz:  I don’t know.  I’ve been all tangled up in this sheet for the last few minutes.  I never could find the eye holes.

Lou: So that really was you dressed up in an old bedsheet.

Huntz:  Who else did you expect, a real ghost?

Lou: If you had been here earlier and heard what Uncle Charlie was saying, you wouldn’t be surprised at anybody who showed up.

Huntz: What’s the matter, are you afraid of ghosts?

Lou:  Aren’t you?

Huntz:  No.  Ghosts are just the spirits of dead people.  Isn’t that right Uncle Charlie?

Uncle Charlie:  Right, Huntz.

Lou:  Did you say dead people?  That makes me  feel a lot better.   Dead people, monsters,  zombies.

Joan:  That reminds of the new movie coming out this week:  Invasion of the Zombie, Space-alien, Vampire , Politicians.

Lou:  I heard about it too.  It sounds awful.  First they try eat your brains, then if that doesn’t work they try to shoot you with deadly ray guns, and in case that misses they try to suck out all of your blood, and in case anybody survives all of that, they fill your head with so many lies you just lay down and give up.

Huntz:  Do they have politicians on other planets?

Lou:  It’s the movies, they can do anything.  They even have this one that’s honest.  He tries to stop the others from invading earth, but they won’t listen to him.   Anyway, he was already too late to stop it because the invasion had  begun in secret years before.

Joan:  It had?

Lou:  Yes, the aliens were here on earth, posing as humans, pretending to be just like us, when in reality they were undermining our culture and societies, and working to destroy our belief in our own right to exist, so that when the full scale invasion started we wouldn’t be able to resist.

Joan:  What a horrible, diabolical scheme.

Huntz:  Those movie people, there’s no telling what kind of stuff they’ll dream up.

Lou: That’s only the latest from this director.  His other big films were All Humans Must Die, and Imagine a World without People.

Uncle Charlie:  Who does this director think will do the imagining if there are no people?

Lou:  I don’t know, I didn’t see the picture, I haven’t seen any of his pictures.   They sound too creepy.   He says they all have a happy ending though.

Bonita:  A happy ending?  I can just picture what his version of a happy ending looks like.  I think I’ll give those  a miss.

Lou: Me too.  I don’t like to get scared.

Uncle Charlie:  There’s one thing I don’t understand though Huntz.  How did you get down out that tree so quickly?

Huntz:  What, that tree?  Not me.  I fell down a few times, but I never fell up a tree.

Bonita:  You mean you’ve been down here on the ground the whole time.

Huntz:  Down here, down there, I really couldn’t see where I was.

Bonita:  Then if you were down here–

Joan:  Who was up there?

Huntz:  Up where?  What is everybody talking about?

Joan:  Oh!  What was that?  Something like hot breath blowing down the back of my neck!  Uncle Charlie, I can’t look.  What is it?

Uncle Charlie:  Have no fear my child, that was no hot breath you felt.

Joan:  What was it then?

Uncle Charlie: I never thought I would actually witness such a thing myself, but it was the result of that remarkable phenomenon when someone moves as suddenly and quickly as though they were shot from a canon.

Joan:  I don’t follow you Uncle Charlie.  Please speak in plain English.

Uncle Charlie:  What you felt was merely the turbulent air in the wake of your cousin Lou.  If you look quickly you can just make him out, he is that blur making straightaway for the house.

Joan:  Lou, wait for me!

Bonita:  Joan, don’t leave me!  I’m coming too!

Huntz:  Where are they going?  What’s  everybody so shook up about?

Uncle Charlie:  Sit down my boy, I’ll tell you all about it.