Chapter 3

Stoker had found out that the woman shopped at Owen’s Grocery every other Saturday around noon, and when we arrived he pointed her out immediately. I swear, Stoker could be a Private Eye if he put the time and energy into it.

We entered the store behind the lady and followed behind. Not close enough for her to realize we were following, but close enough to keep her in eyesight.

“Stoker,” I said nervously. “I don’t think this is going to work. I mean, she’s a single mother shopping at Owen’s. How’re we gonna make a million dollars?”

“Trust me, Lee,” Stoker replied, examining a box of macaroni. “It’s all planned out.”

“But I don’t understand,” I was beginning to fidget and sweat.

“Chill, Phil, I’ve got it under control.”

I sighed and we moved on as she did. When Stoker keeps a secret nothing can crack him until he’s ready. He doesn’t have that urge to give everything away immediately, he likes the suspense.

As we rounded the corner, she was standing at checkout 3. We moved up behind her, or rather, I did and Stoker moved to the magazine rack at the end of the aisle and picked up the latest issue of The Watchguard comic.

I nervously started talking to the woman, all the time watching Stoker from the corner of my eye. As the woman turned around to tell me off, my friend stalked over to her cart and picked up the small child from its carrier. Holding it gently in the crook of one arm, he placed a life-like doll into the seat and walked out of the store. To my surprise, no one saw his action. A moment or two later he honked the horn outside and we got away.

 

*

“Ha ha ha!”

Stoker’s laughing at the comedian on TV brought me out of the trance the baby had me in. I blinked my eyes and looked at my roommate, who was getting up from his pretzel-position on the floor.

He looked at me and said, “You are whiter than a ghost, man. Quit worryin’. We did it, Schmidt.” He patted me on the back and walked into the kitchen.

“You know I don’t know the first thing about babies, right, Stoker?” I called.

“Not a prob, Bob, I got a load of baby books.” Leave it to Stoker to think of everything. “And if we need any more help I can call my sister.”

“She won’t be suspicious when we ask her how to change a diaper?” I asked.

“No way, Jose, see she’s preggo again and she loves spreading baby information from here to Timbuktu. She’ll be giddy about it, man.”

“Smart thinking,” I nodded.

“Yeah,” Stoker came back to the living room with a peanut-butter-jelly-and-fish stick sandwich (his favorite) and sat down between the baby and me. “So,” he said. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s Saturday night, man. We always go do something on Saturdays.”

“What about the baby?” I asked.

“Again, not a prob, Bob, my sister- y’know, the one in high school- she’s gonna come over and watch it.”

“She knows?” Fear lurched in my throat. Someone already knew what we’d done.

“Nyet, Yvette,” Stoker shook his head. “I told her I was watching our neighbor’s kid while they were on their second honeymoon and that a good friend of ours is in the emergency room and we need to see him.”

“Wow,” I said. I was floored. How could a pill popper with a slightly damaged brain think of a plan so ingenious?

“So?” Stoker asked.

“So what?”

“So, what’s the plan, Stan? What’re we doing tonight?”

“You’re choice,” I said. “Just can we be back before two?”

“Yeah, man, my sister’s gotta be gone by 1:30 anyway.”

“Sounds good.” I looked over at the baby. “What do you think its name is?”

“Yertle,”

“What?” I asked.

“It’s Yertle, man. The boy named Yertle.” Stoker burst out laughing, dropping his sandwich to the floor.

“Are you serious?” I chuckled. “Who’d name their kid Yertle?”

“I would. I just did.” Stoker was dead serious.

“Stoker, you know this kid isn’t yours, right?” Sometimes, because of his damaged nerves, I had to talk to him as though he were a child.

“Yeah, man,” he said. “It’s just that Yertle was the name of my favorite tortoise at the zoo when I was a kid. Plus, this kid’s parents named the boy Leroy. I’m not calling a baby Leroy.”

“Fair enough.” I shrugged. Leroy’s not a baby name; it’s an adult’s name, like Robert or Charles.

We both stared at Yertle. He was looking around the room with those wide baby eyes and was drooling all over. He didn’t seem scared or anything. It was like he was on Chill Pills or some of Stoker’s Grandma’s House. The thought sent a chill down my spine.

“Stoker?” I asked.

“Yeah, man?”

“Can you make sure the kid doesn’t get into your pills and stuff?”

“Of course, Morse. I may be fried, but I’m not dumb. I locked my junk in my room this morning and vacuumed and cleaned to make sure nothing got left behind.”

“Why is it you’re so careful in your illicit ventures but you can’t find a job?” I asked with a laugh.

“Motivation, man. I got money stored away in the bank. I use it wisely. All jobs are are a means for the greens. I don’t need it so I don’t do it.”

“Have you ever wanted to use your eye for detail to get ahead? I mean, you could start your own business.”

“Maybe,” Stoker wasn’t paying any attention. He was enamored with the baby. “Say, we need to make a sleep spot for this tyke, man. He’s slowing down.”

“I have that old seat from when we tore up your old car.” I suggested.

“Nah, man, Yertle can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“We probably shouldn’t leave him alone, Stoker. Why don’t I sleep with him?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Gotta take care of our little cash ticket here. If anything happens to him I’d hate myself.” Stoker picked up the baby gently and sat him on his lap. Bouncing gently on his knee, Yertle smiled wide and giggled.

Reviews

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Oh yeah, forgot to mention it: Yertle!!!! That was a stroke of comedy genius in amongst a consistently highly entertaining and funny read!

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I absolutely love how you've built this up and left it open to so much more. The basis of the plot was revealed immaculately over these opening chapters and the storytelling is magnificent. I was a bit put off by Stoker's rhyming of names and expressions at first, but I can't stop grinning at them now. This goes a long way in describing his persistent character and powers of persuasion His personality is extremely strong, but you've not allowed that to overshadow that of his mutli-titled partner in crime. Stoker's got a bit of Cheech in him now, while the narrator of events is coming across as a caring and concerned cohort that is easily charmed and easily led!
I do have a penchant for supporting the 'anti-hero' in literature and i am thoroughly enjoying the experience of reading this, spence