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me and the Maddox family friend,
Butch.

CHAPTER 16
     
     
     
     
    “And Ricky, whatever you
do, do not call my father ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr. Maddox.’ He prefers ‘Colonel,’”
Catherine said as we drove into the wilds of Chesterfield, NJ.
    It was the day of the Big
Sunday Meet and Greet Dinner. My fingernails were jagged, throbbing remnants of
keratin.
    Nervous? Me?
    Nah.
    “Uh-huh,” I grunted, only
half paying attention. I didn’t want to end up in a swale or wrapped around a
tree. Wouldn’t have been a good first impression.
    “Are you listening?”
    “Yeah, I’m listening.
Don’t call your pops anything but ‘The Colonel.’ Gotcha. I’m concentrating on
keeping us alive. Not used to the roads back here.”
    “Good. Oh! There it is.” Catherine
indicated an unassuming copse of trees. “Turn right by that white mailbox.”
    “Sir, yes sir!” I flipped
on the blinker and made the turn.
    Catherine scowled. “Don’t
be a dick.”
    “ Moi ? A dick? When
am I ever a dick?”
    “You can be a dick when
you really set your mind to it.” She pinched my thigh.
    “I would ask you kindly
to please not accost your driver whilst he is driving, Admiral. Besides, I’m your dick. Aren’t you the lucky one?”
    “Don’t be a wiseass. This
is serious. I’m really nervous about this, Ricky. My parents aren’t like your
mom. They’re not quite as,” she looked up in thought, “free spirited.”
    “You say that as if it’s
a bad … holy shitballs.”
    Casa De Maddox came into
view. The house my then-girlfriend had grown up in was a mini-plantation; a
humongous two story home complete with ivy-covered brick, white-trimmed
windows, a three car garage that resembled a barn, and a lawn any country club would
envy.
    I whistled. “Where’s the
golf cart?”
    “What?”
    “Nothing.” I navigated up
the winding drive, past a kidney-shaped pond. “Are there actually fish in that
frigging thing?”
    “Not anymore. It’s just
for show. Mom said it was too much of a pain in the ass keeping them alive.”
    “Yes. I can imagine what
a cross to bear that must have been, the poor woman.”
    I hummed ‘We’re In The
Money’.
    Cat gave me the finger.
    I stuck out my tongue.
    Having parked in the
circular driveway, we walked up the lavish stone steps toward a large, white
double door nestled under an awning.
    “You guys don’t have a
butler or anything, do you? A Butterworth? A Renfield?” I hunched over and made
a hump out of an upraise shoulder. “An Igor?” I pronounced it ‘Eye-gor.’ Catherine
looked at me as if I was a visitor from another planet. Or Pennsylvania. “You
know, Igor? “There wolf, there Castle.””
    “You’re weird.”
    “I know.”
    She shook her head,
sighed. “Anyway, wiseass, there is no ‘Eye-gor’ or Butterworth or anything like
that.” She smiled the smile of the wicked. “There is only Butch.”
    “Butch?”
    Just then the door
opened. Still hunched in my best Marty Feldman pose, I’d been totally
unprepared for the massive brown and black hellhound bearing down on me. By the
time I glanced its way, it was too late. It pounced on me.
    “Jesus Christ,” I
squealed, and fell to the ground.
    A feminine voice came
from inside the house. “Butch!”
    Catherine laughed. “Ricky?
Meet Butch.”
    “Butch! Heel!” came the
female voice from inside the house again.
    “Help! It’s gonna tear my
throat out!” I was trapped under at least one hundred pounds of canine wrath.
    “Oh, don’t be such a
baby, Ricky,” Catherine said through a fit of giggles. “Haven’t you ever seen a
German Shepherd before?”
    Butch’s rough tongue
slathered my face, but through sheer force of will, I was able to speak through
the assault of doggy kisses.
    “Is he just tasting me
before deciding if I’m good enough to eat?”
    “I doubt it. You’re too
thin.” Catherine got down on one knee and Butch came to her immediately. “Hey Butchy
Butch! How’s my little puppy, hmmm?”