by Otto Schafer
Lenny shrugged and shot the look back, accented with a mischievous grin.
“Throwing a penny into the pond to make a wish, of course. It’s just a good-luck thing to do,” Eugene said gleefully. His distinct voice sounded as though it belonged to someone much older, even though at forty-something he was plenty old. Eugene’s voice might sound elderly, but it was always full of jolliness and childlike laughter.
“You know, boys, when Lilith and I first found this old Victorian a couple years back, we just fell in love with it. I remember when I first saw this little backyard. The first thing I said was, ‘Lilith, this old unsightly stump will make the perfect place for a fish pond.’ I have just been so busy remodeling I haven’t been able to get to it.”
Garrett nodded. “This place sure has come a long way, Eugene.”
Eugene turned from the hole back toward the house. “Well, I’m just lucky to have some good boys around to help me with this hard labor! I’m not quite built for this, I’m afraid. Maybe once, in another time,” he said, gazing into the distance. He made a fist and thrust it into the air. “But don’t let these shoestring arms fool you. I may have spent years counting beans, but I’m stronger than I look.” He headed back toward the house, calling back to them, “Let me check on lunch. In the meantime, keep at it, boys – embrace the struggle. Accept that it is – only then you will overcome!”
The eccentric man vanished through the door as they jumped on their shovels, bent, and wrenched.
“Strange dude,” Lenny said, his head shaking.
“Aww, he isn’t bad,” Pete said, working the spade between two roots with little success.
With his odd interests and wonderful collections, Eugene was strange alright, but it didn’t bother Garrett. Actually, that was the best part about Eugene. He knew a whole lot about everything, and he absolutely loved to talk about the stuff he knew. What he talked about most were the many things he collected. He collected old things, antique things, and even a few ancient things, all of them adorning his home from top to bottom. He had collections of old coffee grinders, giant pieces of pottery, oil lamps, and the list just went on. Even their furniture was antique. Heck, even his house was an antique.
Eugene would be content to sit and talk about the history of washboards and moonshine jugs for hours on end. Most kids would say the best of all the things he had amassed was his incredible coin collection. He had coin book upon coin book, each in its own protective sleeve. But for Garrett, it was Eugene’s collection of Native American artifacts that rose supreme. The items were fascinating – small arrowheads, large arrowheads, pieces of pottery, a piece of hematite shaped for the sole purpose of weighing down a fishing net, even two stone tomahawk heads – but it was the story about how each stone artifact was pulled from the earth by Eugene’s own hands that brought them to life. The stories only Eugene could tell.
Minutes later, Eugene appeared suddenly alongside the hole once again. He stooped into a half squat, his hands on his knees and his butt pushed out behind him, peering down into the hole. “You boys getting hungry yet?” he asked, patting sweat from his balding head with a folded handkerchief.
All three of the boys nodded in unison. Pete and Lenny were over waist-deep in the pit, sweating and grunting with exertion, positioned on the opposite side of the stump from Garrett, as they fell back into a rhythm of push, pull, dig, and repeat. Eugene appeared to be assessing the state of the hole. Standing back upright, he pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You boys ever hear of a fella named Sun Tzu?”
The boys paused, looking at each other in shared confusion, and shrugged, shaking their heads.
Jumping off the ground and landing with both feet hard atop the shoulders of the shovel, Garrett muttered, “Never heard of him,” as the shovel bit reluctantly into the earth.
“Well, take my word for it, he was a great general about five hundred years before our Lord Jesus Christ was born,” he said, now circling around the hole with one hand atop his hip. “He wrote a whole book on military strategy called The Art of War.”
The boys stopped working altogether, giving Eugene their full attention as he continued to pace.
“Something he said in that book comes to mind now. ‘The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.’ Yes, that’s it,” he said, stopping abruptly. Spinning on his heels, he pointed at the stump. “You boys are at war with that stump, and I would say you are in one heck of fight.” He snapped his fingers thoughtfully. “I think after lunch we need to change to Sun Tzu’s strategy.” Turning towards the house excitedly, Eugene said, “Lilith is making up some sandwiches and sweet tea for you – shouldn’t be long.” Then, just before entering the house, he shouted back at the boys. “After lunch, we subdue the enemy!”
The boys stood in the pit, looking at each other like they had just witnessed a one-legged man sign up for an ass-kicking contest – it made no sense. Lenny was the first to speak. “Dude… what the hell was that?”
“I’ve no idea, but evidently we will be subduing this thing after lunch,” Pete said.
“Fellas, I’m having a little trouble picturing Eugene subduing anyone, let alone a tree stump,” Garrett said.
“I know, right? What is he, like fifty?” Lenny laughed.
A few minutes later, Eugene called out the back door, “Lunchtime, boys.”
The boys stood around the long dining table with heads bowed in silence. The only sounds were Eugene’s kind voice leading them in prayer and the creaking of the old hardwood floor as restless boys shifted in anticipation of food to come. Finally, the boys ate.
“Eugene, what’s the plan after lunch to – what did you call it? Subdue the tree stump with the Sun guy’s strategy?” Garrett asked, tearing a bite off his fistful of sandwich.
Eugene chuckled. “Sun Tzu. Yes, he was a great general.” Then, with an ornery wink, he gave Garrett one more clue to the mystery. “After lunch, we’ll go to the basement, and I will show you.”
To the basement? We are going to subdue the stump from the basement? He waited for Eugene to elaborate, but he seemed to be taking immense joy in Garrett’s curiosity and was obviously not willing to give up his secret so soon. He made a mental note to find this Art of War book. Heck, his stepfather might even let him read it as part of his training.
Eugene turned to Lenny. “Lennard, how have you been? Are you still playing that electronic guitar of yours? You know, that invitation to come play a hymn or two is still open. The youth group would love to have you. I bet Lilith would be happy to play the piano with you,” he said, turning back to Lilith. “Wouldn’t you, dear?”
“Oh, yes, how wonderful that would be,” she said, smiling fondly at Lenny.
Lenny nearly choked. “Um, I’m really not very good yet, but maybe if I keep practicing, someday we can… ah… do that.”
Garrett made a poor attempt to hide his grin. “Lenny, buddy, everyone knows you shred on the guitar. Stop being so modest. Shoot, I bet there’s nothing you couldn’t play.”
Lenny blinked in disbelief, then fixed Garrett with a death stare.
Peter couldn’t resist piling on. “Bro? You don’t want to play the Lord’s music?”
Garrett smiled back at Lenny innocently. “Lenny?”
Lenny gave a forced smile as he tried to find Garrett’s shin under the table. “Oh, of course, I mean, I’m just so busy – school, chores – but… I mean…”
“Oh, lovely!” Lilith said.
It was true: even without an axe in his hands, one look told you Lenny was a musician. Even in his work clothes – blue jeans with a dozen frayed holes, a ratty Korn shirt, and a blue bandana tied across his forehead, supporting an impressive Afro – his inner rocker simply couldn’t be denied. But put a guitar in Lenny’s hands, and it became a part of him, an extension of his soul. Take it away and you might as well be taking Mjolnir right from the hand of Thor.
Eugene nodded at Lenny and said, “Well, if you change your mind, you’re alw
ays welcome. Hey, by the way, I see your shirt says Korn on it. Is that referring to sweet corn? Reason I ask is we blanched some and froze it last season – I can get some out for you if you want.” He grinned and jabbed his thumb back towards the kitchen.
“Eugene, that’s a band the kids are listening to nowadays. You’re so silly,” Lilith said, shaking her head and laughing.
“Ah, a band, you say? Well, I was wondering why you spelled it with a K, thought maybe I had it wrong all these years.” Eugene gave Lilith a wink. “Peter, how about you?”
“Oh, I’m a… really, not a very good guitar player, sir,” Pete said in a sentence laden with r’s he couldn’t pronounce.
Pete was already very tall, lanky, and uncoordinated, and as if that were not enough, he had been born with the pièce de résistance of dork in the form of a severe speech impediment, which caused him to mispronounce the letter r. Garrett couldn’t remember the technical term, but Pete’s speech issue led to kids calling him Elmer Fudd and mimicking his speech impediment with ongoing baby talk. Garrett couldn’t count how many times he had stepped between Pete and the hornets’ nest. He’d narrowly avoided getting himself suspended more than once. Guess he figured if he was going to take a whipping, he’d take one for Pete.
“No need to call me sir, Peter. Call me Eugene. I meant how have you been, and how is your mother doing?”
“Oh, uh… good, sir, I mean Eugene. Mom is good too, working a lot.” Pete took a gulp from his sweet tea before pushing his thick, brown, too-large-for-his-face rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his nose.
The conversation continued, but Garrett zoned out, his mind drifting to the work awaiting him and the conundrum of the stump.
“Earth to Garrett, anyone home in there? You look a little flushed, dear. I hope talking about sex doesn’t embarrass you,” Ms. Lilith said with a concerned smile.
Pulling himself back to the present, Garrett responded, “Huh?” His mind flashed, What? Sex? Why? He had obviously missed part of a conversation that he was about to wish wasn’t taking place.
“We were just discussing that you boys are at that age where you might be thinking about having girlfriends. What I was saying was, you don’t have to have sex to be cool. I know many kids your age are starting to experiment with sex, but the Bible clearly states in Corinthians 6:18 that sex is to be saved for marriage, and to be shared between two people who love each other. Just look at Eugene – he waited until we were married,” Lilith said, looking to Eugene for support.
“That’s right, boys. Forty-two years old before I had sex, and let me tell you, it was worth the wait.” Lilith blushed as Eugene threw her a toothy grin, stood, and carried his plate towards the sink.
Lenny shot Garrett a look of pure disgust, forcing him to quickly look away to keep from belting out a laugh.
“Oh, now, I’ll get that,” Ms. Lilith said, moving to intercept Eugene. “You boys go play with your tree stump.”
“Play,” scoffed Eugene. “This is serious business!” He slapped his hands together, rubbing them vigorously. “Boys! To the basement!”
The boys followed Eugene down a rickety set of stairs to the basement of the old Victorian, which was in complete contrast to the beautiful main floor. The main floor featured refinished hardwood floors, a completely remodeled kitchen with all-new, stainless-steel appliances, and vaulted ceilings framed in decorative crown moldings. The basement, however, was dark and dank, smelled of mildew, and felt confined in the low light and dark brick.
As the boys followed Eugene, the deep-reaching bowels of the basement seemed to twist on and on through one tiny room after the next. After the boys navigated a few more turns, they reached the furnace room, where a single workbench sat next to a massive antique furnace. The Goliath furnace looked as though it might be asleep. At any moment it might open its eyes to spy them passing. Lenny eyed the old furnace suspiciously, giving it a wide berth as he walked past, similar to how one might keep a wary eye on a stranger’s unleashed dog.
With his hands fisted at his hips, Eugene sighed at a pile of old, busted-up drywall in the opposite corner of the room. “The previous owners had drywalled most of the rooms down here, covering up the beautiful original brick.” He pointed at the drywall pile, shaking his head disappointedly. “Now that most of the upper levels have been gutted and remodeled, I figured it was time to bring this basement back to the nineteenth century. Garrett, I’ll probably need some help one of these days hauling this drywall out of here.”
Garrett nodded, serious, assessing the pile of drywall.
“That’s really awesome, sir,” Pete said, admiring the recently exposed brick walls.
“I think so too, Peter, and just call me Eugene.”
“What’s with the big square hole at the top of the wall, Eugene?”
Eugene smiled. “That’s a very good question, young man. That was originally left open to allow access to different parts of the house that don’t have a basement under them. For example, if a pipe were to break you need to have a way to crawl under there to make a repair. The funny thing is, previous owners had covered up that access hole with drywall,” he said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “The first thing I thought was, how in the world are you supposed to make a repair if you cover your only access?”
Garrett’s eyes settled on the hole in the brick wall, drawn to it like a bug to a light. He didn’t want to go in, but to see in. He squinted his eyes, as if this would give him some superhuman ability to see into the pitch black. The darkness looked so deep, so thick it might have gravity to it. Despite his will, the darkness beyond refused to abate. He thought it might, if he stared long enough, pull him in.
Suddenly whatever spell the curious crawl space had over him was broken as Eugene turned towards the workbench and announced, “Alright, boys, to subdue the beast, we’re going to need three things, one for each of you.” He reached above the workbench to the wall and unhooked a pair of loppers. “Garrett, you take these.” He grinned as he passed the loppers over to the boy. Then, picking up a hatchet from atop the bench, he turned to Lenny. “Lennard, this is for you, but please be careful with this – it has a darn sharp edge on it.” Finally, he focused his attention on Pete. “Peter, this one’s for you,” he announced, giving the boy a wink as he handed him a small handheld pruning saw. “This thing will chew through wood like a rat through a piece of cheese.”
Then, raising his hand in the air and clenching it into a fist, he pointed back in the direction they had come. “Bring your weapons, boys! Now we subdue the beast!”
Back in the hole, the boys quickly went to work on the stump. If a root was too big to use the loppers, they attacked with the pruning saw, and if it was too big for the saw, they chopped with the hatchet. Relentlessly, they severed root after root with their new weapons in hand. It took but a mere fifteen minutes to topple the great oak beast, and when the mighty stump fell, all the boys, even Eugene, cheered in unison. Victory was theirs.
The rest of the work went quickly, and by sunset, the boys were wrapping up.
“Boys, if you wouldn’t mind, please return those tools to the basement for me.”
The boys each grabbed their tools and headed down the old stairs. As Lenny reached to hang up the hatchet, he paused thoughtfully, turning to Garrett. “Hey, do me a favor, bro. If I can’t close the deal with a chick by the time I’m forty-two, kick me in the balls ’cause I ain’t using them anyway, and I ain’t trying to be an old crusty dude before I get laid!”
Pete turned to Lenny without missing a beat. “With a face like that, you may not have a choice.”
“Ooooh, damn!” Garrett said, high fiving Pete.
“Oh, it’s on now.” Lenny threw his hatchet onto the bench and assumed a fighting stance.
Pete held out his pruning saw in one hand while extending his empty hand behind him, arm bent at the elbow in an en garde position, as if preparing to carve the letter z in Lenny’s chest. “Bring it on,” he sa
id, peering over the rim of his glasses with confidence.
“Okay, Zorro, you asked for it.” Lenny front snap kicked the pruning saw out of Pete’s hand, sending it flying through the air. All smiles faded as the tool sailed across the room right through the square hole atop the brick wall, vanishing into the crawl space.
“Oh, shit,” Pete said.
“Dude.” Garrett blinked.
Lenny shrugged. “Uh, sorry.”
Garrett closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, who’s going in?”
Both Lenny and Pete pointed at each other.
Lenny waved his hands. “No way I’m going in there.”
“You’re the one who kicked it out of my hand, bro.”
“Guys, we got no time for this. I don’t want to make Eugene mad for losing his tools. I do a lot of work for him. He pays better than anyone.” Garrett looked back over his shoulder, sensing the need for urgent action. “Rock, paper, scissors now,” he ordered frantically, and at his count, the two boys quickly threw out their signs. “Rock. Paper. Scissor. Shoot!”
Lenny threw rock, and Pete threw scissors.
“Yes!” Lenny clenched his fist in victory. “You’re smashed, bitch!”
“Dammit.” Pete sighed as he positioned himself below the hole in the wall. He jumped up and grabbed the ledge of the opening. Then, with the boys pushing him from underneath, he pulled himself up and shimmied through the hole into the crawl space and into the darkness beyond.
“Do you see them?” Garrett asked desperately.
“It’s so dark in here I can’t see shit. Wait, I bet they fell down in this gap between the wall and the dirt. Dude, I kinda don’t want to stick my hand down there and feel around.”
“Dammit, Pete, just do it.”
“I don’t even know if I can reach the bottom because I can’t see.”
Again, Garrett pleaded, “Pete, just try. I don’t want to tell Eugene we were horse-assing around and lost his saw.”
“Fine, but if I lose my hand, I will never forgive you!” He reached down and swept his arm back and forth, finding the bottom of the void at nearly the extent of his reach. “It feels like there’s a lot of accumulated crap at the bottom,” he said.
