Hazel County. Home to three subspecies of sagebrush unknown to plant taxonomists. Home as well to four thousand human residents who, by and large, have more urgent things to do than to peer through magnifying glasses at the reproductive organs of sagebrush.
Elk Creek, population 2328 yesterday, 2327 today. The commercial hub, county seat, and science capital of Hazel County. Best known for the Elk Creek Truck Stop Last Gas For 37 Miles Lunch Special 4.99 Restrooms For Customers Only.
The Buck Shack, the only restaurant besides the Truck Stop that’s open for breakfast. The favorite dining spot for locals who prefer pancakes without cigarette ash and coffee that doesn’t require an EPA permit. The Buck Shack has been here in Elk Creek for 47 years, thanks to duct tape and perseverance. Three buck elk heads decorate the walls, and above the cash register are tacked 217 one-dollar bills, each signed by a customer.
It’s 9:30 on a Saturday morning, and the restaurant is about a third full. Sunlight streams through the window, illuminating swirls of steam rising from the coffeemaker. A small metal bell chimes occasionally to announce the arrival and departure of guests.
A round table big enough for six, but set for four, has a wrinkled “RESERVED” card on it. That’s for the weekly meeting of the Hazel County Science Society.
Please meet our cast of characters...
JOYCE WORTHINGTON: waitress and half-owner of the Buck Shack. She is about 60 and looks like she’s spent most of her life working in a restaurant, and enjoying it. Which she has. (We won’t be meeting her husband ROD today — he’s busy in the kitchen.)
Joyce:
G’morning, Rose, Linda! Table’s ready, have a seat, I’ll be right with you.
ROSE ANDERSON: mid-50’s, sturdy and wrinkly — looks like she spends a lot of time outdoors digging in the garden and tending to the chickens. Which she does.
Rose:
Thanks, Joyce. Take your time.
LINDA JAMES: mid-40’s, not wrinkly herself, but her pants-suit is, and it seems she’s got her hair on crooked. Looks like she could be a real estate agent if only she were more organized. She is, in fact, a real estate agent.
Linda (pointing at the round table):
Ha, look! She set it for four!
Rose and Linda take their seats.
Linda:
So she’s vanished completely?
Rose:
Yep. Completely. Went to pick her up last night for the asteroid occultation, and there’s just this bare spot where her trailer used to set. I asked her neighbors, they said she headed off to Montana, or Missouri, or somewhere.
Linda:
Well, that’s just... wow. The Society just won’t be the same without President Annie Rhoten in command.
JOHN HALLMAN: just now coming in the door, he’s about 42, tall, broad-shouldered, jovial, the only man in the restaurant wearing a tie and sport coat. Last month he inherited Elk Creek Tractor Sales from his uncle. He holds the door for a young girl...
JESSICA VAN BAVEL: age 10, dark of complexion thanks to her Indonesian mom and almost cute. John and Jessica exchange big smiles — John’s got a big smile for everyone, in fact.
Jessica stops for a few seconds to watch the steaming coffeemaker; John strides to the table.
John:
Good morning, ladies! The tyrant has fled, and the forces of entropy prevail!
Linda:
Hi, John.
Rose:
Mornin’, John — I see you’ve heard.
Jessica (arriving at the table):
Hi, Ms James, Mrs. Anderson! Heard what?
Rose:
Annie Rhoten packed up and left town yesterday.
John:
Haven’t met anyone who knows why.
Jessica:
So who’s going to do Robert’s Rules of Order?
John:
Down with Robert! Who elected him, anyway? We should be subject only to the Laws of Physics! There, that’s my campaign platform.
Rose:
We could start with the Pauli Exclusion Principle.
John:
Forget it, Rose — you’d have to find a second one of me with the same spin.
Jessica:
Ms James, how’s Eddie doing?
Linda:
He’s better today — you’re a dear for asking, Jessica. They transferred him from Juvie up to the State Hospital last night, ’bout time, too — I don’t think they were giving him his A.D.H.D. meds in Juvie — but they said they bandaged up all his fingernails so he couldn’t gnaw off any more of ’em and they’ve got him on new meds for the O.D.D. problem and some Valium and I think codeine for the fingernails, so he’s almost back to normal this morning, that’s what the nurse told me on the phone.
John:
That’s good news, Linda. You’ve got quite a burden to bear with little Eddie.
Linda:
Oh, it’s not a big thing, he’s not nearly as much trouble as his dad was. Never a dull moment with Louis, the Herald got lots of stories outta him, should’ve paid him a commission, would’ve come in useful for funeral expenses after Henry shot him.
Rose:
Poor Henry.
Linda:
Yeah, I don’t hold a grudge, but Henry still feels pretty bad about that. Probably why he’s letting me sell his folks’ place for him.
John:
He’s selling the McCay Mansion?
Linda:
Well, not like his folks need it any more, where they’ve gone. I’m doing an Open House tomorrow 1 to 5, come on by if you wanna see inside the only known sextuple-wide manufactured home in America.
Joyce arrives, one coffeepot in each hand and a small tray with cream and an orange juice balanced on one of her mighty arms.
Joyce:
Good morning, folks! I hear it’s Election Day for the Hazel County Science Society.
The juice is for Jessica, regular coffee for Rose and Linda, decaf for John — no need for Joyce to ask first.
Rose:
I figured you’d heard about that. Only set our table for four today.
John:
Joyce always knows everything before everybody else!
Joyce:
Well, I hope Annie finds what she’s looking for. You folks ready to order? Anyone need a menu?
Rose:
I think we’ve all got it pretty well memorized by now.
Jessica:
I’d like pancakes, please. The thin ones, with powdered sugar. And bacon.
John:
Mmm, that sounds good. Ditto on that for me, Joyce.
Linda:
Let’s see, um...
Jessica (to John):
I like that endothermic effect when the powdered sugar dissolves on your tongue.
Linda:
Let’s make it the, uh, scrambled, no. Two eggs over easy, and French fries. Hash browns, I mean hash browns. Hm. Whole wheat toast.
John (to Jessica):
Not worried about the nitrosamines, huh?
Jessica:
What do you think the orange juice is for, silly?
Joyce (to Linda):
Tabasco?
Linda:
Hm?
Joyce:
I don’t want you using that OC pepper spray on your potatoes again.
Linda:
Oh, yeah, Tabasco, thanks yes.
Joyce:
And Rose, you want something besides lots of coffee?
Rose:
Heh, I think I can handle one biscuit and gravy. And another four hours of sleep.
Joyce:
Got it. You want me to hold that a few minutes so you can do your election?
Rose:
Nah, I don’t think that’ll take any time.
Joyce:
Okay, lemme get Rod workin’ on this, and I’ll be back in a few.
Joyce departs.
Jessica:
Can we do Science Reports now?
John:
No, hon, I think we oughta get some business stuff out of the way first. Rose? You want to make us official?
Rose:
Oh, right. Well then. As Vice President of the Hazel County Science Society, I hereby call this meeting to order.
John:
Hear, hear!
Rose:
And... before we get to the election, there’s one troubling item of news we oughta discuss first.
John:
The Treasury.
Rose:
Oh, you checked it too, did you?
Linda:
What happened to the Treasury?
John:
It seems there was a large withdrawal yesterday, just before Annie left town.
Jessica:
Oh, no.
Linda:
She didn’t. Oh, hell, she probably did. That’s just what my Cousin Frank did with the Little League money when he had to pay off the landlord for the meth lab fire, you know, just before—
Jessica:
We need a Treasurer’s Report!
John (retrieving papers from a folder):
Yes, Ma’am! Let’s see... Before the withdrawal, we had, uh, nine thousand and three dollars and fifty-seven cents. That’s including the nine thousand of royalties from Annie’s book. And this morning, we have, mmm, three dollars and fifty-seven cents.
Linda:
Wow.
Jessica:
She stole her own money?
Rose:
Well, it wasn’t technically her own money anymore. She gave it to the Society.
Linda (pulling a book from her briefcase):
Look... she even put us on the cover. Backwoods Homoptera: The Secret Life of North American Fulgorid Planthoppers, by Annie R. Rhoten, Hazel County Science Society.
Jessica:
But... Hee hee hee, that’s pretty funny! Ha ha, stole her own money!
Linda:
John! Aww no, so there’s nothing there for your patent application now!
John:
Yep, looks that way.
Linda:
Awww...
John:
Don’t fret, my dear — just a temporary setback. I still have Elk Creek Tractor Sales, don’t I? I’ll save up enough for the patent in a few months, and then the Amazing John Hallman Two-Click Purchase Algorithm will rule the world! Or at least a little part of the Internet.
Linda:
That’s the spirit, John! That’s just what Marge Samuels said after her ex went and lit her prize goat on fire, I mean, not right away, first she said “Somebody put out that goat!”, but after that, and she made up that big pot of goat chili too, but after that, she said it’s just a temporary setback, she’d have another prize goat ready come next fall, and I guess that doesn’t have much to do with the Internet actually, John, but still.
Jessica:
Somebody must know why she left.
Rose:
Folks, this is depressing. What say we do Science Reports now before the food comes? And we can leave other business for later.
Jessica:
Yeah!
John:
Very well, Rose, you’re still the boss. For a few more minutes. And then comes the election, and then we shall see, yessss! We. Shall. Seeee. HAAAA ha ha ha ha haaaaaa!
Jessica:
Hee hee hee!
John:
Oops. Sorry, mad scientist attack.
Rose:
John, Annie’d be having apoplexy about now, you’d tried that.
Linda:
Alright, Dr. Johnenstein, I wanna hear about this top secret project you’ve been working on.
John:
Ah! Still top secret, I’m afraid.
Linda:
John, come on!
Jessica:
Spill the beans, Johnensteens! Can’t go more than three weeks without a Science Report, that’s Society Rule Number 7.
John:
Okay, okay. I’m not too happy about this. But I have to confess — there isn’t anything to report. Sorry. I’ve just been too busy since I inherited the tractor shop. I haven’t had time for science.
Jessica:
Ah?!
Linda:
Oh, dear!
Rose:
No time for science. John.
John:
I know.
Linda:
You just have to set priorities, John.
John:
I know.
Linda:
I mean, I sympathize, I’ve been there myself, you know? When I was calibrating my neutrino detector? During the eclipse? And I get this call that Mom’s in custody for disorderly? So, what, like the sun and the moon are supposed to wait just cause Mom wants to fight Frank Samuelson for the electric shopping cart? I mean, sorry Mom, priorities, you know?
John:
Yeah.
Jessica:
Mr. Hallman?
John:
Yes, Jessica?
Jessica:
Why do you put cream in your coffee?
John:
What?
Jessica:
Cream. I mean, half-and-half. Why do you put it in your coffee?
John:
Tastes better that way? I mean, what are you asking? It’s bitter black, even Joyce’s coffee. I don’t care for bitter. The cream cuts the bitter taste.
Rose:
I suppose the bitter compounds get sucked up into the milkfat globules.
John:
Maybe... I’d guess it’s the casein that binds them.
Jessica:
The bitter compounds, they’re, what, polyphenolics?
Linda:
No, its—
Rose:
Caffeine, the alkaloids, they’re bitter.
John:
Can’t be just that, my decaf is still bitter.
Linda:
You still got your trigonelline, that might bind to the proteins, but all those organic acids, I mean quinic acid, for gosh sake, that’s like hydrophilicity city, and not an aromatic bond in its body, but maybe the calcium phosphate can buffer up some of the acidity, do you think?
John:
Probably. And all those furfuryl-this-an’-that’s, I bet they’re bitter too, even if they smell good.
Rose:
And they’re mostly oily...
John:
So they’d get sequestered in the fat globules, and — Would that keep ’em off the bitter receptors on the tongue? But they’d still be volatile enough so you’d get the aroma. Might be interesting to try an experiment with, say, cream and whole milk and nonfat milk, see if there’s a difference in bitterness.
Jessica:
Thanks, Mr Hallman, that was a great Science Report!
John:
What?
Jessica:
Now we don’t have to burn you at the stake.
Rose:
Ha ha ha!
John:
Oh, jeez!
Linda:
Wow, Jessica!
Jessica:
Is it my turn now?
Rose:
Sure, go ahead, dear.
Jessica:
Thanks! My Science Report is on a possible new subspecies of Artemisia tridentata that I discovered growing up on the south side of the ridge.
Linda:
Oh...
Jessica (taking a small glass jar full of leaves from her pocket):
My dad took me along when he was doing the surveying job for Mr. Dobson, and I found this unusual patch of sagebrush, it looks like regular Big Sagebrush, except it grows sorta low to the ground, but... here, smell this.
Rose (takes the jar, opens it, sniffs):
Oh! Oranges? Sage and oranges!
Linda (sniffs jar):
That’s a lot of d-limonene there.
John (sniffs jar):
Nice!
Linda:
Maybe not for Don Dobson.
John:
Uh-oh. Endangered Species Act.
Linda:
And I already had two buyers lined up for him, or now looks like bye-bye-ers, cause their names aren’t Nature and Conservancy. Crud.
Jessica:
But I was thinking maybe he can sell the plants. I mean, grow seedlings and sell them. People might want it for xeriscaping.
Rose:
Is that legal?
John:
I suppose it is. The plant’s not officially listed yet.
Jessica:
It’s not even officially identified yet! I can’t do that ’til it blooms. But I don’t want to keep my sagebrush secret — I mean, maybe it should be listed as endangered, quick, before something happens to it!
Rose:
Well, hon, seems to me that Providence has put those plants in the care of Mr. Dobson. The right thing to do now is to talk to him, tell him what you’ve found, see how he wants to handle it.
Jessica:
But, but what if he... he... oh, crud.
Linda:
That’s what I said.
Jessica:
Sometimes I really hate doing the right thing.
John:
Heh heh.
Linda:
Jessica, I wouldn’t get too worried about Don Dobson, I’ve known him a long time, his son Donnie Junior was in Juvie with my Eddie after they launched all those bottle rockets at Sue Stone’s emus, that was, oh, five years ago, you probably don’t remember, we had emus and emus for two days before they got ’em all rounded up. But Don Dobson, he’s a pretty good guy, I know he likes nature, likes to take a walk every morning, except now he doesn’t walk by Sue Stone’s anymore, but Jessica, you just write up a short piece about what you found up there, and I’ll throw in a paragraph or two about conservation easements and such, and John, maybe you can do a bit about the Endangered Species Act, you know, diplomatic, not threatening or anything?
John:
Sure, I can be the very epitome of diplomacy.
Rose:
I’ll look up how they propagate sagebrush in bulk — I know they do that for replanting natural areas after a wildfire.
Linda:
Perfect! Jessica? That sound alright to you?
Jessica:
Well, yeah. Yeah. I’ll write about how nice it smells, and how everyone will want one for their garden, and what a great business opportunity it is.
John:
You’ll wanna go light on the advertising there — folks know BS when they hear it. Take it from a tractor salesman.
Rose:
Heh.
Joyce returns with the coffeepots for refills.
Joyce:
Taking BS from a tractor salesman? Who ever heard of such a thing?
John:
I, ah, endeavor to minimize it.
Rose:
Not what I heard from Edna Gibbons.
Joyce:
Yeah, Edna was in here last week, John — had a thing or two to say about a certain Ford 8N.
John:
Oh, jeez — Now, I did right by her on that sale, Joyce, it was just a mistake.
Joyce:
She was mighty amused when she tried hooking up her one-and-three-eighths brush hog driveline to the one-and-one-eighth PTO.
Rose:
Heh.
John:
Now, Joyce, Rose, come on, that was just my second tractor sale after I inherited the shop! I took her a nice adapter, in fact it was an ORC, no extra charge, I even installed it for her—
Joyce:
Relax, John! Edna said she was real impressed about how you owned up to your mistake and fixed it right away.
John:
She did? Well. Good. That’s good.
Joyce:
Your food’ll be up, just a few more minutes.
Joyce departs.
Rose:
Annie could’ve been real helpful right about now. She knows all that Endangered Species stuff inside and out.
Linda:
Rose, you know, the longer I sit here, the less I understand about Annie running off. I mean, folks around here run off all the time — heck, Louis ran off, what, five, six times before Judge Prantle ordered the GPS thing clamped to his ankle. But Annie Rhoten? The way she went for rules and proper procedure and logical analysis? I don’t like it.
Jessica:
You think she was in trouble? Maybe that’s why she needed the money.
Rose:
That’s what I’ve been worrying about, but she never said anything to me about any trouble.
John:
Come on, folks, we’re all sounding like a cheap detective novel here! She probably just heard about some new finding of a, a hitherto-undiscovered population of fulgorid planthoppers somewhere, some out-of-the-way place.
Jessica:
Maybe she has a secret lover in another state.
Rose:
Annie? Not unless he has six legs.
Linda:
Seven.
John:
HA-ghah-gh! Fff, ff, ff!
Jessica:
What?
Rose:
Linda.
Linda:
Oops.
Jessica:
I don’t get it.
Rose:
Never you mind, Jessica.
Linda:
Sorry, it was, forget I said anything, uh. Rose, your turn for a Science Report?
Rose:
Right, well, yes, I did that asteroid occultation timing last night. Four-point-seven-something seconds, I think it was. Lots easier to get an accurate start and end time now that I’ve got that old Video Toaster wired between the telescope’s camera and the VCR. Got the exact time right there on the videotape with the star images. So I can step through the tape frame-by-frame, watch the star disappear, reappear, and just read the times right off the TV screen. Lots more accurate than stopwatches.
John:
So, 4.7 seconds, what’s that give you for a chord length for your asteroid?
Rose:
I think it’s around fifteen kilometers. Sorry, I didn’t get the data analysis done yet. I was too groggy to trust myself at 4 AM.
Jessica:
Good science requires a clear mind. Ms Rhoten says that all the time.
Linda:
That’s true. She wrote that scathing letter to Kary Mullis a few years ago, remember? She was livid.
Rose:
That’s about all I’ve got for you this week — Linda, you want to try and fit yours in before the food comes?
Linda:
Sure, it’s—
Jessica:
SEVEN! HAAA ha ha ha ha ha ha! Seven! HAAAAAAAAA ha ha ha ha!!
John:
Oh jeez.
Jessica:
HAA ha ha ha haaaaa!
Rose:
JESSICA!
Jessica:
Urck. Sorry.
Rose:
Wasn’t all that funny.
Jessica:
Sorry. Uh, sorry for interrupting, Ms James.
Linda:
Thanks, it’s okay, hon. My own fault.
Jessica:
Hee hmp, sorry. Hmph hmp hmp.
Rose:
You done?
Jessica:
Mmp hmp.
Linda:
Okay, so anyway, it looks like I’ve achieved proton/boron-11 fusion in the washing machine.
Rose:
I thought you were gonna make a plasma in the microwave oven for that.
Linda:
Yeah, I was thinking about that, but then I was trying to fix this squeal in the washing machine, and I thought I had it fixed but the dog was still howling, so I figured ultrasonic, right? So, just on a hunch, I opened the lid and, yup, sonoluminescence, nice blue glow from the collapsing bubbles. Well. Just so happened I had a box of 20 Mule Team Borax for a boron source, and of course no shortage of protons in all that water, so why not try for some nuclear fusion? In goes the borax, on goes the washer, dog starts howling, and that washwater was boiling, I mean boiling, in four and a half minutes.
John:
But, Linda... now I know proton/boron-11 has a low neutron output, but even so, the radiation—
Linda:
John, think. Boron-10, neutron capture, remember? Did I say anything about using 20 Mule Team Depleted Borax? I did not. So I’ve got twenty percent boron-10 in with the boron-11, don’t I? Sucks up those neutrons like Ray Hendricks sucks up beer on a Friday night, ’xcept boron-10 doesn’t get arrested after.
John:
Yeah, but now you’ve got gamma!
Jessica:
And what about the bremsstrahlung?
Linda:
Jessica, hon, you say that so beautifully, your Dad taught you German along with the Dutch? Bremstrawlung. Brems-STRAAGHHH-lung.
Jessica:
Yeah, but the bremsstrahlung ought to drain away most of your power. As hard X-rays!
Linda:
Well, that’s why I’m doing it in the washing machine, hon. They still make ’em out of steel, you know. Good shielding for the X and the gamma.
Jessica:
But it shouldn’t work.
Linda:
Then what’s making the water boil?
Rose:
Now, come on, Linda, calorimetric techniques were discredited with Pons and Fleischmann!
Linda:
The dog’s lost all his hair.
John:
Fine, let’s assume for the sake of discussion that you’ve got proton/boron-11 nuclear fusion via sonoluminescent bubble collapse in your washing machine. Jessica’s right, the bremsstrahlung losses ought to be insurmountable. What’s your hypothesis?
Linda:
Well, the way I see it, it’s gotta be the gamma from the boron-10 neutron absorption that’s doing a reverse-bremstrawlung on it. Or else it’s the brighteners in the laundry detergent.
As Linda hypothesizes, Joyce arrives with the four breakfasts on a huge tray.
Joyce (distributing the plates):
Here we are! So who won the election?
Jessica:
We didn’t do it yet.
Rose:
Jessica.
Jessica:
What?
John:
Jessica.
Linda:
Jessica. Obvious.
Rose:
See, I told ya it wouldn’t take any time.
Joyce:
All right! Congratulations, President Jessica!
Jessica:
What?! What just happened?
John:
Come on, Jessica, vote for yourself and make it unanimous.
Jessica:
But... but I thought Mrs. Anderson—?
Rose:
Not me, hon, I’m a natural-born second-in-command. Leave me in my ecological niche.
Linda:
Rose doesn’t want it, John doesn’t have time now, and me, ha!, we’d be like, it’d be like last year when Jeanette Gibson was Mayor Pro Tem and the Council had to meet at this table because she locked up the City Hall and the Sheriff tried to arrest Chief Roberts while he was arresting Jeanette for obstruction and she had the no-contact order against the whole Council, remember that? Some of us aren’t supplied with natural leadership ability.
Rose:
That business with John’s coffee and cream, that clinched it.
John:
Well?
Jessica:
I guess I’d better accept...?
John:
Great! President Jessica Van Bavel, congratulations and thank you.
Jessica:
You’re welcome, you’re most welcome. Hee hee! Very well, then! The next item on the agenda is: We eat!
Joyce (giving Jessica’s shoulder a squeeze):
You’ll do great, Jessica. Okay, anyone need anything else here?
Rose:
Looks good to me, Joyce.
Joyce:
Okee dokee, I’ll come check on you in a bit.
Joyce departs; everyone else eats. After a couple of bites, Linda begins to look distracted, then pulls out a very small laptop computer from her briefcase and opens it next to her plate.
Linda:
John, is Antlertenna up this morning? Oh, never mind, there it goes.
John:
Of course Antlertenna is up! Downtime’s been only a tenth of a percent over the last two months. Not bad for a broadband service that’s about five bucks away from bankruptcy.
Jessica:
Antlertenna showed up on Boing Boing last week, did you see? They had a link to the Herald article, and a picture of the elk head antenna on the City Hall roof.
John:
That explains the server load. Death by fame — is there glory in that?
Linda (talking to her computer):
This is weird.
Rose:
John, who owns Antlertenna now?
John:
Still the same, Rose. I’ve got a third, Annie’s got a third, wherever she is, and Uncle Herb, Uncle Herb’s estate, has the third third.
Rose:
And you’re inheriting Herb’s third.
John:
If it ever gets out of probate. Technically I don’t even own the tractor shop yet, but I’ve gotta keep it from shutting down.
Rose:
That’s an odd coincidence.
Linda (still talking to her computer):
Oh my...
John:
What’s an odd coincidence?
Rose:
Annie vanishing just at this particular time. John, you sure you don’t know anything about Annie?
John:
Rose, you heard what I said earlier—
Rose:
I heard exactly what you said, John, you said you haven’t met anyone who knows why, and that was an interesting choice of words but I’m asking you, John, you sure you don’t know anything?
Jessica:
Uh, order?
John:
Rose—
Linda:
I don’t believe this!
John:
Rose, I do not know anything about where Annie went, or why she went, and if it has anything to do with me or with Antlertenna I would sure as hell like to know about it!
Jessica (upset and frightened):
Order! Mr. Hallman, inappropriate language, out of order! Mrs. Anderson, unsubstantiated accusation, out of order! Please?
Linda (finally looking up from her computer):
What was that about?
Rose:
I only—
Jessica:
Ms James. Ms James — did you find something interesting that you wanted to share with us?
Linda:
She’s on the best-seller list.
Jessica:
Who is?
Linda:
Look here: New York Times, Best-Seller Lists, Hardcover Nonfiction — number three, Backwoods Homoptera, by Annie R. Rhoten! And here: Amazon, Top Sellers — number five, Backwoods Homoptera, and that’s all books at Amazon, fiction and non!
John (craning to see her screen):
That can’t be right.
Linda:
Ninety-five thousand hits on Google. I don’t believe it.
Rose (getting up):
Let me see that.
As everyone crowds around the tiny computer, there is a low rumbling, and a huge shadow slowly blots out the sunlight at the window. The restaurant grows quiet as everyone notices (everyone except the members of the Hazel County Science Society). Joyce emerges from the kitchen and stops abruptly, mouth agape.
Joyce:
Oh... my... God...
Jessica (looking around, looking out the window):
Aaahk!
Linda (noticing):
What the—
Joyce:
It’s HUGE!
John:
What? Aah!! Jeez!!
Rose:
That can’t be.
Linda:
Wow.
Joyce:
That is the biggest damn RV I have ever seen!
Rose:
That can’t be... Annie.
Jessica:
It is! Look, there she is, it’s Ms Rhoten!
ANNIE RHOTEN: mid-50’s, but at the moment acting half her age. Incongruously dressed in a satiny silk top, an ancient strand of pearls, and stained, torn blue jeans. She struggles through the door, bearing a large heavy cardboard box with RHOTEN BACKWOODS HOMOPTERA imprinted on the side.
Annie:
Hello, hello everyone, sorry I’m late, it’s just chaos, let me tell you — Joyce, here, here’s a batch of Backwoods Homoptera—
Annie drops the box on the counter by the cash register with a thump.
Joyce:
Uh, thanks—
Annie:
Give ’em away to your best customers, sell ’em, I don’t care, they’re yours, Merry Whatever-month-this-is. Ohh! This has just been ridiculous! It’s good, I mean I know I wrote a good book, I know a good book when I write one, but man! I would never have believed! And now my agent tells me I’ve got to go on tour, my editor tells me I’ve got to go on tour, book-signings, conventions, it’s going to be months, and they want me to fly, I mean how can I get any science done staying in hotels, I want my house, but I can’t go on tour dragging that old trailer around, now how would that look, here’s Good Morning America coming to interview world-famous entomology author Annie Rhoten in her hovel-on-wheels? No way! So, ta da!, here’s the new house, not bad, is it? And I’m sorry about borrowing back my nine thousand from the Treasury without asking first, that definitely was out of order, but there just hasn’t been any time, I knew you folks wouldn’t mind, and I’ll have it all back to you with interest in a week when they send me the next check, or maybe two weeks, I gotta buy a new wardrobe too — Do you know, they want me on the Johnny Carson Show? Can you believe that?
Jessica:
Who?
Annie:
Oh I mean not Johnny Carson, he’s, he’s gone, I mean the new guy, you know. Can you believe that? Me and my fulgorid planthoppers! Now, don’t you worry about the Treasury, I need, I really need some tax deductions, otherwise the IRS is gonna pull my legs off, financially speaking, and oh John, ditto on that for Antlertenna, you wanna see about converting that to a non-profit, A.S.A.P.? And I’m gonna have to run — Oh, heck, I almost forgot what I came for, you’re gonna need a new President, wouldn’t be fair to call me President when I’m running all over the country and missing all the meetings, not that I’d ever resign from the Society, no, of course not, but I can’t just run off and say nothing, you folks can’t elect a new President unless I resign first, so I Hereby Officially Present My Resignation As President Of The Hazel County Science Society, and oh! that was hard, me a founding member, but anyway. And I’m still a voting member, but let me tell you I am not gonna get in the middle of your bickering, John, Linda, Rose, I refuse to join sides in that, so I Hereby Cast My Vote For Jessica Van Bavel, and you figure out what to do about it! And now I really have got to run, still have to load up all the specimens from the storage locker, so bye-bye everyone! Joyce, thanks, thanks for all the breakfasts, tell Rod thanks from me too, and I’m outta here! Bye-bye!
Annie departs with velocity.
Linda:
Whuh.
Rose:
Nothing ever changes in Elk Creek, ’xcept cataclysmically.
John:
That... Yup...
There is a roar from outside, the RV departs, and sunlight returns to the window.
Rose:
John. Sorry. Shouldn’t’ve said what I said.
John:
No, Rose, don’t worry about it, none of us could’ve guessed what was really going on. But Rose?
Rose:
Yeah?
John:
Try decaf.
Rose:
Heh.
Jessica:
I think Ms Rhoten had too much caffeine.
Linda:
No kidding!
Joyce (arriving with a wheeled cart, two coffeepots on top):
Sounded like coffee talking, but, you know, I’d suspect a serotonin imbalance too.
Linda:
Joyce! You’re into neurochemistry?
Joyce:
Well, you watch people as long as I have, you get curious. I’ve been reading up.
John:
Good for you, Joyce!
Jessica:
If you like science, I know this great Science Society you could join!
Joyce:
Hon, I would have joined years ago, except for Annie. I mean I know a neurochemical imbalance isn’t her fault, but God!
John:
Well, looks like Annie’s on an extended leave of absence. So, how about it, Joyce?
Joyce:
Okay, okay, come on, folks, eat your breakfast, it’s getting cold, and it looks like I’ve got a couple minutes free, I’ll give you a quick Science Report on serotonin.
Linda:
Wow, that’s great, Joyce, and after maybe if you’ve got time I wanna pick your brain about the McCays, you remember the McCays, that big lottery prize and then the sextuple-wide, and they were the nicest couple, even after Silas started talking to his dolls he was still so nice, and Winnie was so patient and sweet when folks got after her about the snowshoes or that potato, it was a good potato, why shouldn’t she carry it? Hate to see such nice folks in the State Hospital, but what do you think, Joyce, was it the stress of the prize money, or maybe a serotonin problem from all that free surplus cheese they’d had in the fridge since 1995? Silas told me American cheese can’t go bad but it was looking mighty French to me by 2001.
Rose:
Welcome to the Society, Joyce.
Joyce:
Thanks, Rose — here, just a sec...
Joyce stoops to remove something from the bottom shelf of the cart. It’s a restaurant-sized fruit can with a colander bolted to one end, and thick cables connecting it to the cart. She points the device at Rose.
Joyce:
Here’s your dessert.
Rose:
My—?
Joyce pushes a button on the device, which hums loudly as Rose collapses in her chair.
Joyce:
Four hours of sleep, as ordered. Okay, more coffee for anyone?
Curtain.
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Copyright © 2005 William S. Statler. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons
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