Surfing Dude

by Ed Nelson

  Dad did mention that negotiations had been opened with both, the small newspaper The Simi Valley News and Miss Tucker about the Academy.

  There would be a meeting with the lawyers who were active in their respective parties about good candidates to support in the primaries.

  Eddie was quiet during dinner. You could tell his arm was bothering him. We had signed his cast, but that wasn’t the same as his friends signing it. He had talked to two guys on the phone, but they weren’t allowed to visit. I guess Eddie had cooties. When I told him that, it got a wan smile.

  Mary kissed him on the cheek and told him that his cooties didn’t bother her.

  Eddie ruined the moment when he wiped his cheek off and said, “Yuck, girl cooties.”

  Mary just giggled.

  After dinner, I spent the evening on school work.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning got off to a good start. My running on the hillsides had finally brought me back into condition. Running on the flats all summer hadn’t been kind to me. Also I hadn’t been as diligent with my weights as I should have been.

  As I ran I reviewed where I was at with my various goals. Physically, I was exactly where I wanted to be. Business seemed to be going good, but that was due to other people knowing what they were doing. I may have had the original ideas, but I had no illusion that I was the one making things happen right now. It looked like a good ride, so I had better hang on.

  Movie wise my career was in good shape. However, I did take Mr. Baxter’s words to heart about where I wanted to take it. Like everything else if I was going to do it, I needed to do it right, so how could I become an A-lister?

  School was on track, as a matter of fact I was a little ahead of the curve on my schoolwork. Flying lessons were going great. I couldn’t wait until Mr. McGarry said I was ready to solo.

  Somewhere along the line I needed to become proficient at using long guns. I think my pistol work was okay, but then I had never been compared to someone who knew what they were doing.

  Then there was ballroom dancing. Yes, there were several dances like the Tango that I was good at, but I had never done most of the common dances. At least to be able to perform at the level required in a movie.

  I think we could forget about a singing career. I doubt if anyone would be interested in signing me up to sing again.

  These were the immediate items, what were my long-term goals? I realized that the events of my life had pushed me in good directions, but what directions did I want to go.

  All these thoughts went through my mind as I ran. I had been running through the mile’s long park just following the path ahead of me. By the time I realized that I had been running for a while none of the park looked familiar.

  Now the simple thing would have been to turn around and head back. What’s the fun in that? Instead, I took the next fork in the trail that veered to the right. This should take me towards the highway and one of the many entrances to the park trail. I could then look at the map board and figure out where I was.

  My plan worked to a point. I got to the road, saw the map board. Some jerk had torn the map off!

  Now I had two choices, follow the road downhill towards my house, or follow the trail and hoped it went back that way.

  I was getting tired enough that I chose the road. It was a sure thing. After running downhill for several miles, there was another entry way and its map was intact. I was still almost ten miles from my house. Well, I wanted a good run.

  Looking at the map I saw the trail now ran parallel to the road. I chose this as it would go easier on my legs. As I got closer to home I started see other runners.

  The gate to the back of our house was in sight when I noticed an orange flash running through the woods. It was some sort of an animal, but it was big. It disappeared so quickly I had no idea what it was. I wasn’t even certain that I had seen anything.

  I showered and went in for breakfast. Since I had run so far everyone else was finishing up. I filled a plate from the sideboard and joined the family.

  The boys were excited about something in the paper. I looked over at the headline to see what had them excited.

  Uh-oh, a Bengal Tiger had escaped from a small local zoo. Was that what I saw? Then I started to wonder. Had I shut the back gate and locked it? To be safe I went out to check.

  I could see the gate was closed, but I could see that a ten-foot fence didn’t mean a lot to a Bengal Tiger as it was rummaging in our garbage can.

  Edging back to the kitchen door, I saw Mrs. Hernandez talking to the cook.

  “Mrs. Hernandez, will you please find me the largest piece of meat you can?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to feed the tiger in our back yard. That should keep him there while you call the sheriff.”

  “Funny Rick.”

  “I took her by the arm and led her to the back door and pointed out the window.”

  “She let out a shriek that got the tiger’s attention. It wandered over to check out things.”

  In the meantime the cook, whose name I didn’t know handed me a ten pound roast from the refrigerator.

  “You can explain to Peg what you did with the roast.”

  I cracked the door open and tossed the roast to the tiger. It didn’t hesitate at all. It nailed that roast in midair and settled in for a small feast.

  In the meantime, Mrs. Hernandez had come about and had the Sheriff’s office on the phone.

  Looking back at the tiger I saw that the roast couldn’t even be classified as a small feast as it was almost done with its meal.

  I asked the cook for more meat.

  She handed me a package of T-bone steaks. This was getting expensive fast.

  I threw those out the door. If we kept this up the tiger would be ready to move in with us.

  Mrs. Hernandez had now summoned my parents who were accompanied by the kids.

  Of course, Denny and Eddie thought it was cool and Mary wanted to keep the big kitty.

  By now, the tiger had scarfed down the meat. It must have been content because it stretched out for a nap.

  Dad had left the room and returned with a rifle that I had never seen before. At first, I thought it was a double barreled shot gun.

  When asked, Dad told me it was .470 Nitro Express rifle by Holland and Holland. It was made for big-game hunting in Africa. You literally could kill an elephant with it.

  Of course this immediately upset Mary. Dad was quick to assure her that he would only use it if the tiger tried to come into the house.

  “But what if it is only looking for more to eat?”

  “I think its favorite food is little girls.”

  “Oh, then shoot the bugger!”

  “Mary! Watch your language.”

  “Mum says it.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can.”

  We were saved by a Deputy Sheriff arriving.

  He took one look out the door and was pulling his service revolver. I don’t know how he thought that might help.

  Dad spoke up, “Son, that thing would just make him mad. Why don’t we wait for a vet with a tranquilizer gun?”

  “This one killed its keeper to escape. It has to be put down.”

  “Peg, take Mary to the front of the house.”

  When they had left Dad asked the Deputy if he wanted to use his rifle or should he do the deed. After a moment’s thought the Deputy decided it would be better if he pulled the trigger.

  The tiger was still taking its nap so the Deputy took the time to call his office and reconfirm the tiger needed to be taken down. It was, he had his facts straight.

  The Deputy opened the kitchen door and took careful aim at the tiger. When he pulled the trigger a chain of events started. He missed! From twenty feet, he missed.

  Secondly, the rifles kick was more than the Deputy was expecting. He went down on his butt and the rifle broke free from his grasp. I grabbed it in midair.

  As I turned to look at the tiger I saw mo
re tiger than I ever wanted to see. It was now ten feet from me and getting ready to leap. Later, I flashed back to the bank robbery in Colorado as I reacted the same way. I held the rifle and fired. I was luckier than the Deputy as I blew its head off. I mean it, the tigers head was a ruin.

  My holding onto the rifle was no better than the Deputy’s as I was also knocked on my butt and it went flying. This time it was caught by Dad.

  I’ve had adrenalin rushes before but nothing like this.

  The Deputy and I, whose name I learned was George Burrill, both sat in chairs for a while shaking. Everyone there was excited. Denny ran to his room and brought his camera back and was taking pictures of the tiger. All the others were talking a mile a minute.

  I’ll never forget Dad saying to Mum, “Now what do you think of boys and their toys?”

  It was the only time I can remember Mum being at a loss for words. Apparently, she had given him some grief over buying that rifle.

  With a start I remembered something I had to do. I dialed Sharon Wallace on the kitchen phone. Luckily she was in her office and caught it on the first ring. I updated her on the events of the morning.

  She told me that she would have a reporter and photographer from the LA Times there as soon as she could.

  Deputy Burrill called his office and let them know the tiger was down. He didn’t give any details.

  After he hung up he told me, the Sheriff was on his way.

  Dad called the front gate and let them know people would be arriving from the Sheriff’s department and the LA Times. Let them in and escort them to the kitchen.

  The first to arrive was the Sheriff and another man. From the way Mum and Dad stood straight and looked at them, I figured out exactly which Sheriff this was.

  The Sheriff was as surprised as they were.

  “I didn’t know you were those Jackson’s”

  The way he said it, it was their fault for not letting him know they were rich and famous.

  The other guy had a camera with him and was taking pictures of the tiger.

  The Deputy was explaining events to the Sheriff. The guy with the camera was now taking notes and started his own questions. He wanted it very clear that it was me who shot the tiger and not the Deputy.

  From Mum’s glare it didn’t take a lot of guess work to deduct that this was the newspaper guy. A look at Eddie confirmed it. The little guy sure could shoot daggers with his eyes.

  The Sheriff and newspaper guy didn’t stay long. The Sheriff told the Deputy to contact the zoo that the tiger had escaped from to come pick it up. They would know how to dispose of it.

  During the next hour, things settled down. Cook provided coffee, sodas and cookies as we sat around and rehashed events. From the Deputies perspective he had missed with a strange weapon losing it in the process, I had snatched it out of the air calmly and killed the tiger.

  From my perspective, I got lucky in catching the rifle and took a shot in desperation, which hit through no skill of my own.

  From the looks on the faces of those present they liked the Deputies version better.

  We learned more about the rifle. It was made for big-game hunting in Africa. Dad had bought it on impulse at a charity auction he and Mum had attended. He had no use for it. He just thought it was neat. At least, he didn’t have a use for it at the time he bought it. It was now going to be hung on the library wall in pride.

  The reporter from the Times and a photographer showed up next. We had our stories down pat for him. You could tell he liked the Deputies version better than mine.

  Of course, they had to stage the picture of me with the tiger like I had been on a big-game hunt. They had to roll the tiger over so the ruined side of his head didn’t show.

  Four people from the zoo arrived in cars and a truck. They were brought around back. While the tiger was being loaded into the truck, it took three zoo keepers, the Deputy, me and the photographer to lift the beast. The only way we could do it, was to place the tiger on a tarp and lift the edges of the tarp.

  I was told they could come in as high as nine hundred pounds, but this was a light weight at eight hundred and twenty-five. I would hate to meet a big one!

  A faulty counter weight on a door had not let the door come down, so the tiger wasn’t in a separate area when its keeper entered the area. He had mauled the keeper. It had even eaten some of the poor guys arm.

  The LA Times reporter was practically drooling over these events.

  While we were doing this Dad had been talking to the Zoo Director. At the end of their conversation they shook hands. I wondered what deal had been struck.

  Dad was busy. Next he was having a long talk with Deputy Burrill. When they were finishing up, Dad handed him a business card, and again they shook hands.

  The rest of the day was unsettled to say the least. After everyone had left I was tired. I was never tired this early in the day. I told Mum that and she laughed at me. How far did you run? How much excitement have you had? Go take a nap.

  Now I had not been sent for a nap for a long time, but with no argument, I went and slept for two hours.

  Chapter 17

  I spent the afternoon doing high school work. I was so immersed that I was able to get the morning events off my mind. After dinner, I spent some time with the kids watching Mr. Magoo. It was one of his theater cartoons. Eddie was excited that this week’s TV Guide reported that there was going to be a regular cartoon on TV called, the Mr. Magoo show.

  Dad stopped in and was surprised that they would allow Mr. Magoo on TV since he was so mean and nasty. That caused some discussion as we thought he was just an addled old man. Dad watched for a few minutes and agreed that the character had changed from when he was younger.

  I spent the evening with my flight manuals. When it was time for bed, I was out like a light.

  My run on Thursday was nothing like Wednesday’s both in distance and ending.

  When I joined the family for breakfast, I could tell something was going on.

  Rather than saying anything Dad handed me two newspapers, our local paper and the LA Times. The headline of the local section of the LA Times was, ‘Sir Rick saves family from man eating tiger.’ The local papers front-page headline was, ‘Jackson murders rare tiger.”

  The LA story was correct, well correct as it could be. They took Deputy Burrill’s version of the event rather than mine. The local rag had me murdering a poor defenseless tiger who had strayed into my backyard. In the last paragraph, there was a line about a zoo keeper being reported as injured in the tigers escape.

  While the paper didn’t outright lie they twisted the facts to make me a villain. That really made me glad that I had called Susan right away. I was now a believer in what she had been telling me.’

  To say that Mum and Dad weren’t happy would be an understatement. There was also no question where Mary had learned the word bugger. I just hoped Mary didn’t know what it meant.

  I said, “The Russian option is looking better to me all the time.”

  Denny asked, “What’s the Russian option.”

  “Not an option at this time,” replied Dad.

  From the look on Mum’s face, I’m not sure she agreed.

  The conversation went nowhere after that. Denny cornered me in the hall and asked about the Russian option.

  “Violence, Denny, full-on violence and that’s all I’m going to say.”

  Fortunately he let it go at that.

  I thought it would do me good to get out of the house, so I drove over to the studio. In the stunt area I was quickly surrounded by the entire stunt crew. I could see that I hadn’t thought things through.

  They all wanted to know about me and the tiger. They had seen both the LA Times and the local rag, so wanted to know the real story. It took some time, but we finally had the story told and rehashed. Several of the guys had been on actual tiger hunts and told me that I had no idea how lucky I was to be alive.

  I had no problem agreeing with that.


  The next couple of hours were spent with sword and bow. Mr. Palmer felt it was too soon after the tiger event to go hand to hand. He said that adrenalin can kick up several days after an event and have unfortunate consequences.

  I had lunch with the guys and then headed out for my flying lessons.

  The lesson went fine. I was feeling more comfortable all the time. I did the pre-flight walk around. Then taxied the plane to take off position, got permission from the control tower and took off.

  I flew in lazy circles for a while then with the towers permissions did some touch and goes. I was feeling pretty smug about the whole thing when Mr. McGarry reached over and turned the engine off.

  Yeah Mr. Palmer was right about adrenalin spikes. My blood pressure must have gone off the chart.

  Then my brain kicked in and I re-started the motor.

  The whole incident hadn’t lasted more than seconds so the plane had only lost a little altitude. I told Mr. McGarry it might be best if we landed.

  He raised an eyebrow but took over the stick and brought us in.

  Once we were on the ground, I told him that apparently he didn’t read the newspaper. From the look on his face he hadn’t.

  When I explained what happened yesterday he broke out into a grin.

  “All that and you still reacted correctly, son you are going to be a good pilot. I knew guys during the war who were stone-cold killers in the air, but put them through something like an advancing tiger, and they would have been useless for a week.”

  We then went back into the office, and he spent the next hour grilling me on my studies. Then he had me take a written test.

  “Now get back in the plane, take off, circle the field once and land.”

  I didn’t think about it, I did another walk around to make certain something hadn’t fallen off and got back in the plane. I buckled up and was waiting for him to join me.

  He didn’t. He just rotated his arm to tell me to go! And so I soloed.

  There is no way to describe the feeling after I taxied back to the school. I thought jumping from a plane would be a high. I know getting attacked by a tiger was, but the grin on my face was so wide it’s a wonder my grin didn’t meet in the back of my neck, and my head fall right off.