Wheely Wally

“Is it just because of your cousin? Everyone else in the office will be there. Why can’t you go?”

“I just can’t Nancy; that’s all,” he replied stubbornly.

“C’mon Gerry,” Nancy persisted, “you used to enjoy the company outings but you haven’t been to one, now, for two or three years. Why? Are you tied to Cousin Wally forever?”

“No. It’s not like that, at all. Leave it alone.” Phew. This gal is getting to be a real pest and I don’t have time for this kind of nonsense; not today of all days. “Bye bye Nancy, here’s my bus.”

“Hey, Gerry, I go that way too, or have you forgotten.”

They boarded the city bus and started down the aisle. Nancy said, “C’mon, here’s a double seat. And before you get lost in your newspaper, let me tell you something as an old friend. You’re being very foolish. You shouldn’t give up all your interests, and your friends, just for him.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I do what I want to do. “Is she ever going to stop?

“Sure, he’s your cousin and you feel that you owe him something but he’s a big boy now. What is he, about twenty? He’s never worked and he never goes out even though many places are wheelchair accessible now. Other people manage. But not him. He ties you down and shows no gratitude for what you do for him.” Then she added, vehemently, “If I was you, I’d want to throttle him.”

“I don’t need that kind of advice. When did you get so nosy, anyway.”

“Okay, so tell me to butt out. But Gerry, you’ve changed. You were always so keen. Now your disposition is sour and you’re so impatient.”

“That’s bullshit,” said Gerry.

“Oh yeah? Even the boss has noticed; imagine promoting Higgins ahead of you. That never should have happened. And it’s all on account of Wally and how you overdo that protective father bit. There’s no need for it; nobody blames you for the accident.”

“So long, `Sigmund’, this is my stop.” Whew, I’m sure glad that’s over with. But what the hell, no sooner do I get away from Nagging Nancy than I have to face yet another evening with Whimpering Wheely Wally. I guess I’ll have to be nice to him tonight, though, and I hope that Mrs. Stringer does her part . . . Ah well, maybe things will be better soon.

Well, here I am, back home and sure as hell, the very minute I step in the door, he’s going to say, bring the paper when you come and I hope it’s not all mussed

“Hi, Wally, I’m home.”

“Bring the paper when you come and I hope that for once, it’s not all mussed.”

Atta boy Wally, I can always depend on you, can’t I? Sure I can. I can depend on you to be your usual miserable self. “Yeah, Yeah. I’ve got the paper. Here you are and . . . umm. What smells so nice, Wally? Were you baking?”

“Oh sure, I’ve got lots of time for baking,” said Wally sarcastically. And then in a complaining voice, “What a dog’s breakfast! This paper is in a worse mess every night and you know how I hate that. I think you do it on purpose. You’re such a slob.”

Why don’t you stuff it?

Wally continued, “Where the heck is the Anne Landers column? OH, NO! You said you’d leave the crossword but instead you’ve got it all fouled up . . . and with a pen too. Thanks a lot. It makes no difference to you what I say; you always do the opposite . . . Always. You’re so obstinate and perverse.”

Moan, moan, moan. Wally the Whiner with a one track mind. Let’s get back to the subject. “Well, what is it then?”

“What is what?”

“The smell.”

“Smell, schmell,” said Wally rudely, changing abruptly from his martyr role. “We were talking newspapers. Could you keep to the subject for a change? You jump from one thing to another and expect me to understand what the hell you’re talking about . . . Cookies.”

“Cookies?”

“Yeah, cookies. Boy, you’re really losing it. Remember, Gerry. Smell, schmell. I’ll make it simple for you. The smell is from the cookies and the cookies are a gift from your merry widow friend, and neighbor, Mrs. Stringer. She said they were for me and insisted that you weren’t to have any.”

Shaking his head, Wally continued, “That woman is crazy. Usually she’s falling all over you and now she’s buttering me up. She’s a pain in the butt and I suspect that she’s up to no good. How late did she stay last night anyway? Oh sure, look away. You’re a great pair.”

By God, Wally, you are “some wound-up” tonight.

“And some loud mouth guy called and said he’d see you later. He called you Geraldo. The name suits you; Geraldo the Great Lover. Hah.”

“Who was it?” asked Gerry, quietly, trying to control his temper.

“What am I, an answering service? I don’t remember his name. He said he’d known you for ages. I hope you don’t intend to have him stay long. Or are you arranging a night out with the boys while I sit here, alone.”

“No, I’m not going anywhere, and whoever it was that called is probably not a loud mouth. Why do you talk like that? . . . Oh, here’s a letter for you . . . Did you start supper?” Fat chance.

“I had my lunch late so I don’t feel like any supper now. If you’re going to be rummaging around in the fridge leave that leftover chicken alone. You hear? I may want it for lunch tomorrow.”

There he goes with more of his orders. “Yeah. Okay, your lordship Wallace, sir. As I remember you’ve been talking about that chicken for the last few days. Umm, those cookies do smell good. Did you try them?”

“No, I did not and I don’t plan to,’’ said Wally with a chuckle. Then he continued, “You can lead a horse to water, but . . . “

“What the hell does that mean.”

“It means nothing. I won’t eat the cookies because they’re probably full of soap.”

“Why do you feel so hateful towards Mrs. Stringer? She’s lonely and just trying to be neighbourly.” And she sure has you pegged, you stubborn bastard. As Gerry continued his inspection of the fridge, he said, “Oh no! Are we out of milk? Dammit Wally you didn’t even leave me enough for a cup of tea. Jeez. You don’t think of anybody but yourself.”

“Oh sure, it’s pick-on-Wally time, is it? Kick him while he’s down. Who cares? Well I didn’t ask for this set-up so any time you want to call it quits, just say the word. I’m only glad that Mother isn’t here to see how you’ve abused me after all the promises you made.”

For the love of heaven, set it to music, will you. Dammit all. “Wally, come back. That’s not fair. C’mon don’t get all worked up. I’m tired and I’m sorry that I was so cranky. Okay? Who was your letter from? Alright, don’t look at me like that. I agree, it’s none of my business. Just making conversation.” You’re hiding something, you secretive son of a bitch. I know, ‘cause I saw the return address.

“I’ll go and get some milk. Is there anything else we need?” said Gerry

Wally bristled again. Is there anything else we need? How much more of this can I take? He won’t do anything for himself and he’s always prying. I haven’t even had a chance to read this reply from the insurance company. If everything goes right with that . . .” Why ask me what we need. Can’t you see what we’re short of? Buy the groceries that you like; you always do. Ah what’s the use, I’m going to my room.”

Wally, Wally, old Wheely-Wally. You’re getting worse. But you’re actually starting to make it easier for me . . .

“What’s going on,” asked Evelyn, “and why are you out on the front porch? My word, Adam, it’s 3 o’clock in the morning. What’s the commotion out here? Why are there so many police cars?”

“Something has apparently happened to that young man from the duplex next door. They just brought him out in a stretcher and the ambulance left in a big rush. That young widow, Mrs. Stringer, from the upper apartment, went along with him and she seemed quite upset. I heard someone mention poison.”

“That poor, crippled boy. He’s had his share of troubles, hasn’t he? I hope it’s not serious. Well, I’ve got to get back to bed. Tell me about it in the morning.”

“Yeah, Okay . . . No, wait, Evelyn, its not . . .” Oh well, I’ll tell her in the morning.

“What did you find out, Nancy?” said Myrtle, the telephone operator as Nancy entered the office. “All of us have been wondering what happened and the morning papers don’t say much.”

“It’s just dreadful,” Nancy replied. “I guess none of us really knew Gerry very well. This new friend of his, a woman named Stringer, has admitted to the police that they had been planning to eliminate Cousin Wally for some time. And she has confessed to baking cookies for Wally, which she laced with poison. Gerry, of course, didn’t eat any. “

A small group, eager for news, had gathered around Nancy as soon as she arrived in the office. Myrtle said, “It’s hard to believe, after all the years that we worked with Gerry, that he could turn out to be such a monster. “

One of the other girls said, “And that poor Wally. Maybe the kid wasn’t as bad as what we’ve been led to believe.”

Another said, “What an awful way to go. Imagine, being poisoned by your own cousin.”

“No, no,” said Nancy, interrupting quickly, “You don’t understand. Wally is not dead. The plot didn’t work and instead there’s a strange twist to this whole mess.

“You see, Gerry tried to get Wally to eat the cookies, and Wally didn’t. So, Wally, as a result of his stubborn nature, is okay. But Wally, in turn, (according to his statement to the police) tried to get Gerry to not eat some leftover chicken, but Gerry did. Unfortunately the chicken had spoiled and so, as a result, Gerry, because of his obstinacy is in the intensive care unit at The General. So you see the whole affair seems to have boomeranged.

I understand that criminal charges will be made against Gerry and Mrs. Stringer. But I hear also that the police are still curious and may have some further questions for Wally.”