The fellow down the road was a strange one. His name was Desmond, and he was skinny and dark and unkempt. Kept to himself and didn’t bother anyone. Once, the neighbors thought he might be dead in that run down trailer of his because no one had seen him for over two months. Sent the authorities around there, but when they found him, he was quite alive. Found him in a tree, clad only in his underwear. Said he was learning to communicate with the birds and squirrels, so they went away and left him alone.
He would go to the little grocery store once in a while, but only just before closing time. He would buy beans and rice, and sometimes a bottle of cheap red wine. He was there for a few minutes, then gone again on his patched up bicycle. He got a check once a month, but no one knew where it came from, except the mail lady, and she wouldn’t let on.
One day, a slick black car pulled up in his yard. Several neighbors watched this with great interest. Some from behind curtained windows and some from front porches. A tall, bespeckled man knocked on the door, but got no answer. He walked around the yard, looking around like he had a right to be there. Suddenly, he looked up and spotted Desmond sitting on a nearby branch.
“Uncle Desmond! What are you doing up there?” shouted the man.
“Meditating!” came the reply.
“Well, come on down. We need to discuss some things,” commanded his nephew.
So Desmond climbed down, jumping nimbly onto the ground, while his nephew looked on in disbelief.
“You are far too old to be climbing up in trees. And besides, you’ll get chiggers or poison ivy or fall down and break something,” scolded the nephew.
“Ha! Our ancestors lived in trees!” Desmond replied.
They went inside and sat at a rickety table. Desmond brought out some Merlot and two chipped coffee cups. “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon!” protested Hank, his nephew.
“Does that mean it’s too early or too late?” grinned Desmond as he poured them both a generous amount.
“Let’s get down to business.” Hank said with a sour look. “My mother is concerned about you. She heard you were parading around in your underwear in full sight of everyone. Also, you were living in the middle of a junk pile. Now what are we going to do about this?”
“Junk pile? Who says it’s a junk pile?” Desmond protested.
“It’s an eyesore and probably dangerous to boot.” Hank pointed out. “Take that old school bus you parked here about twenty years ago. It’s all grown up with vines and rusting away. I can have it hauled off for you and we can clear out those bushes, so you can have a proper yard.” Hank added.
“My bus? I keep that for my friends to stay in!” Desmond explained.
“That is the craziest thing you’ve said yet! My mother should have you committed!” Hank exclaimed.
“Your mother has always been a busybody. If she didn’t have something to be ‘concerned’ about, she’d probably jump off a cliff.” Desmond pouted.
“What a thing to say about your dear sister. She only wants what’s best for you in your old age.” Hank stated indignantly.
“Her meddling started when I was a toddler and it hasn’t stopped yet!” Desmond snorted.
“And what about these friends you claim to be harboring? What are they? Drug addicts? Homeless alcoholics?” Hank inquired with a frown.
“Fine friends. The kind that always listens and doesn’t try to tell you what to do.” Desmond replied.
“So are they staying out there now? May I have a word with them?” Hank asked in his most pompous voice.
“Oh why not. You probably won’t get much out of them anyway.” Desmond mumbled as he led the way.
The ancient bus looked like it was about ready to fall down. It was leaning to one side where the tires had rotted away and some of the windows were broken out. Hank sniffed in disgust as he neared the open door. Images of vagrants and criminals passed through his mind. He shuddered as he imagined the repugnant living conditions inside. Desmond danced along beside him. “My friends are much more agreeable than you’ve ever been!” Desmond hooted.
Hank looked sternly at him. “I intend to run them off and clear this rustbucket out of here!” he stated.
“You haven’t even met them yet.” Desmond shrugged.
Much to Hank’s surprise, there to greet him inside, were a family of raccoons, one large mama opossum, and a couple of young foxes. They were all quite comfortable in their respective nests and didn’t seem to mind the intrusion at all. They looked at him with bright, inquisitive eyes as he shook his head and made a hasty retreat. Desmond clapped his hands and smiled with glee, while Hank drove away in his slick black car, muttering something about a hopeless case.
