The American Spectator

The Nation's Pulse

A Tale of Two Visitors

By Bill Croke on 8.28.07 @ 12:07AM

(Page 2 of 2)

"Nuthin'."

I took the top of the tank off, and inside it was a noisy, storm-tossed sea. I swore an oath, as they used to say.

"What did you do, Happy?" I demanded.
"Nuthin'," he said, exasperated. "I just flushed it."

I'm not a plumber, so don't ask me how I fixed it, but I did. A little blue rubber hose had popped out of a metal tube, and there was a loose clamp attached to the tube. Water was shooting out of the end of the wayward hose. I clamped the end of the hose to the end of the metal tube, thus directing the water back into the tube, and the storm-tossed sea was instantly becalmed. I did a test flush and everything worked correctly.

"Don't touch my laptop," I said, menacingly.

Later, I put a note on the bathroom door as a reminder. It read: "Happy, Flush Gently."

THIS WAS ALSO A SUNDAY, and I'd gone out earlier to get the papers. I like to read the papers over breakfast on Sunday morning. If this is just another neurotic tic, it's one I share with scores of millions of my fellow Americans. Happy Jack could care less, but if the papers happen to be lying around, he'll read them. And talk about interesting news or commentary that catches his eye. It's: "Listen to this," and "Look at that," and "Check it out." Initially, I thought that if I kept passing him sections of the paper, he'd shut up and read, and I -- in turn -- could read in peace. No such luck.

He's always losing things. His car keys, reading and sunglasses, and articles of clothing. This usually leads to the emptying of his knapsack and duffel bag onto the floor until the missing item is found. Sometimes he leaves things behind when he leaves. But the day does come when he does leave.

We have another bear hug by the car, and last minute farewells as he starts it. The Toyota rattles off down Alger Avenue and I stand on the lawn waving goodbye to my old friend. Then I go back inside and before I start the cleanup I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling and heave a sigh of relief. Another summertime sojourn at Camp Happy Jack has concluded.

I cherish both these friends, and picking a favorite would be difficult. But three facts are clear: Reid never stays overnight, always buys lunch, and has never broken my toilet.

Letter to the Editor

topics:
Law, Oil