The Mystery of Merlin's Magic Page 2

  The motion to skip the minutes passed unanimously.

  “New Business?” Charlie inquired.

  “Mr. President,” I spoke up. “I would like to bring an unfortunate piece of news to the attention of the club.”

  “The Chair recognizes Jeep Muldoon.”

  I began, “Fellow Rangers, I received some disturbing news this morning at the breakfast table. According to the Granite Falls Gazette, the Granite Falls Town Council in a show of unrestrained governmental intrusion has voted to take over the Granite Falls Miniature Golf Course and bulldoze it into a parking lot.”

  From the reaction on the faces of my friends – it was obvious that they had not yet heard this distressing information. So, I continued.

  “Given that Granite Falls has only one world class 18 hole miniature golf course and given that the Granite Falls Rangers currently have a season pass that covers every

  Member of the Club running through December 31st, I would like to move that we apply the considerable resources and talents of the Club and all its members to the goal of thwarting this unwarranted and undesirable abuse of power.”

  “Second! Second!” echoed Shad and Freddie and the inevitable arm frog followed.

  **************

  Chapter Five: Our Fearless Foursome Meets a Fearsome Twosome

  Just after noon the next day, our delegation made its way over to the Granite Falls Miniature Golf Course.

  Bogdon was working at the Hobby Shop. Freddie was helping his Grandfather cut the grass. And, I guess Shad had not finished lunch yet. So, Thor, Toby, Charlie and I were the official Club representatives. And, as luck would have it – we were a foursome, and we planned to get in a few rounds of golf while we were there.

  Charlie was pegged to do the talking, because… well, Charlie is just so darn good at it. I am not sure if persuasion is a gift, but it seems like Charlie could talk a blackberry into a bear's mouth. Maybe, it's just that he's not afraid to ask for what he wants. Anyway, people always listen to Charlie Sinclair and usually agree with his suggestions.

  Anyway, when we pulled up in front of the golf course on our electric scooters, Mr. Shiner's granddaughter (and my former girlfriend) Lyndsey Dalrymple was standing out in

  front, beside the evilest seventh grader in Granite Falls: Amanda Porkbutt.

  Amanda Porkbutt is Wiley Porkbutt's very popular and amazingly stuck up daughter. Given that her father wanted to bulldoze the golf course, it seemed to me that Lyndsey was fraternizing with the enemy. But, maybe teen popularity is thicker than blood.

  Gazing over at the perfect feminine form of Lyndsey Dalrymple, sparkling in the early morning sun, one word came to mind: luminous. Lyndsey just glows. She is tall and tanned, with wispy brown hair and dazzlingly blue eyes. Today, her soft pink lips covered her perfect teeth except when she flashed one of those now retainer-less smiles that make me go weak in the knees. (Whenever Lyndsey Dalrymple smiles birds sing and old folks hold hands.)

  She was wearing a cotton sundress that shimmered with white and red flowers. The perfectly manicured toes of her cute little feet peaked out from spongy blue flip flops. And, from just downwind I caught Lyndsey’s fresh clean scent of sunshine and strawberries.

  Standing next to Lindsey’s perfection, Amanda Porkbutt cast the evil shadow of a wicked witch. Amanda was about the same height and weight as my ex girlfriend, but that was where the resemblance ended. Amanda smacked her gum with all the class of a truck stop waitress. She smelled like a fruit salad. She wore enough eye makeup to make a raccoon look trampy. And, her hair was platinum blonde – this week.

  I grimaced at Amanda, and then gave Lyndsey my best Aqua fresh grin. Unfortunately, Lyndsey was not in a receptive mood.

  “Hi Perv,” she started in. “Are you here to play golf? Or, did you come by to look up someone's dress?”

  She paused.

  “Oh, that's right. You don't have to look up someone's dress you can just look right through it.”

  She wrinkled her nose and tried to give me a sneer – but somehow it still came out looking … cute.

  Then, Amanda felt compelled to join in. “Hey, Jeepie Creepie, what color underwear do I have on?”

  Amanda gave a fashion model turn (which I don't believe was for my benefit, since she was staring at Charlie the entire time).

  “That's easy,” I answered. “Brown. At least it's streaked brown.”

  That got a sneer out of Amanda and there was nothing cute about it.

  At that point Charlie eased into the conversation.

  “Hello ladies,” he charmed. “What brings you out on this fine summer day? Are you golfing? Or, just working on your cute little tans?”

  An instant transformation took place. It was like someone threw a switch and the girls morphed into female giggle boxes.

  “Hello Charlie. Hey Thor,” they twittered.

  “We just came by to cheer up Grandpa Brock with some cookies,” Lyndsey explained.

  “Well, that's mighty nice of you girls. I'm sure that your smiles alone were like sunshine on Mr. Shiner's cloudy day”.

  The girls giggled again, and I tried my best not to puke.

  “Oh, Amanda,” Charlie continued? “I don't suppose you could communicate to your Father how important this golf course is to the future voters of Granite Falls? We feel it would be terrific shame if it were closed down.”

  “Well Charlie, I have already mentioned that to Daddy. But, I will be happy to pass along your concerns”.

  Amanda flashed a perfect smile from her pointy white teeth. And, then she topped it off with this goofy hair flip move that I'm sure she has practiced in front of the mirror.

  At that point Toby Trundle actually began to choke. This teenage love fest was too much for his social activist gag reflex. Toby may have an unremarkable appearance with dirty blond hair, innocent grey eyes and a rounded face. But, he is completely intolerant of injustice or oppression. So, he felt compelled to take Amanda to task.

  “Don't you Porkbutt's own enough parking lots already?” Toby huffed. “Do you really need to bulldoze this golf course for another? I mean, how rich do you need to be?”

  Click. The switch got thrown back to angry – or at least haughty. Amanda turned toward Toby and gave him her best ‘I am So much better than you' stare. I could feel her contempt like heat on my bare skin.

  “We are not rich,” she corrected him. “We are … wealthy.”

  Amanda’s words smothered Toby like a wet blanket. Then, having dealt with the riff raff, she turned back to Charlie and Thor.

  “Well, so much to do, and so little time. I'm afraid we can't stay and chat.”

  Amanda smiled, “Good bye Charlie. Good bye Thor.”

  She looked over at Toby and me like she wanted to scrape us off her shoe.

  “Good bye … losers!”

  Then, Amanda and Lyndsey strolled off down the sidewalk.

  As the two girls wandered off, I scrunched up my face at Toby and mocked, “We're not rich. We're not rich. We're wealthy.”

  Toby just shook his head, “Amanda Porkbutt is the Paris Hilton of open air parking.”

  **************

  Chapter Six: Fairway to Heaven

  After the girls left, we wandered over to the orange wooden stand known as ‘the clubhouse’ to have a word with Mr. Shiner. He was inside the booth handing out clubs, balls, score cards and those tiny little miniature pencils that golf courses are so fond of.

  “Hello, Mr. Shiner,” Charlie greeted him. “How are you doing today?”

  Brock Shiner finished the last bite of a cookie and brushed the crumbs off his hands.

  “Hello boys,” Mr. Shiner said. “It’s good to see you fellas. How are you doing on this bright sunny day?”

  “We are doing just great,” Charlie replied. “How are you’re your greens today, Sir?”

  “Straight and true, boys,” answered Mr. Shiner, “straight and t
rue. Did you fellas come out to see if you could finally break that course Record? I've already given away $10 this morning for a lucky hole in one.”

  “Well,” Charlie started. “We do plan on playing a couple of rounds. We need to tune up for next month's Granite Falls Open.”

  Charlie paused, “You are going to be holding the Open this year? Aren't you? ”

  The old man smiled.

  “Uh oh… I believe you boys have been reading the newspaper. Well, you can't believe everything you read. Not even in the Granite Falls Gazette.”

  He held up a finger.

  “Excuse me for a second, fellas.”

  Mr. Shiner reached over for the microphone. He flipped on the PA system and his voice came over the loud speakers.

  “Attention golfers. We are adding another lucky ball color for the next five minutes. The lucky ball color is red. Anyone scoring a hole in one with the red ball can come to the clubhouse and collect his prize.”

  Mr. Shiner put down the microphone and pulled out his handkerchief. He began wiping the sweat off his balding forehead.

  “Boy howdy,” he puffed. “It's hotter than it has a right to be.”

  He turned back to us smiling.

  “Don't worry boys. I have held the Granite Falls Open every year since I came back from the War – the big one - WWII. And, I sure as shootin' plan to keep having it until St. Peter calls me home.”

  “But, aren't you afraid of the town council?” Toby asked.

  The old man chuckled, “No, Son. I'm not afraid of those blowhards. This is still America. They can't just come over and take a man's lively hood away. After all, I fought with the US Army Air Corp during the War. And, after we finally got rid of Adolph – that paper hanging Son-of-a-Gun – I came home and built this course with my very own hands. And, I've been holding the Granite Falls Open every year since.”

  Once more – he daubed his heavily perspiring face with the handkerchief. Still wiping with one hand, he reached over with the other and picked up the microphone.

  “Attention golfers. We are adding another lucky ball color for the next five minutes. The lucky ball color is blue. Anyone scoring a hole in one with the blue ball can come to the clubhouse and collect his prize.”

  He put down the microphone and turned back to us.

  “Now what was I saying?”

  Mr. Shiner kind of swayed a little and a puzzled look slipped across his features.

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “Old Porkbutt is not going to take over my golf course. It's mine and I am not selling it so he can have another stupid old parking lot. ”

  The old fellow abruptly changed the subject. “Boy I am so thirsty!” he said. “Are you boys thirsty?”

  Without waiting for us to reply, Mr. Shiner reached over to a pack of funnel shaped Dixie cups. He grabbed one and started filling it from the big bottled water dispenser behind the counter. Bubbles glugged as water sloshed out into the paper container.

  “Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty.” he said to no one in particular.

  Then he lifted up the little paper vessel in a ‘Salute'. Then, he emptied the cup in one continuous swig, and crushed the paper container like it was a certain city councilman whose initials are W.P.

  “Well, gee Mr. Shiner,” Toby said. “We just want you to know that you can count on us for anything. We are behind you a hundred percent. And, we will be glad to protest this thing – or even testify before the Town Council. This course is a part of Granite Falls' history. We don't intend to just stand by and let them pave it over.”

  The old man smiled and pulled out his handkerchief once more. This time, after wiping his face – he wiped his eyes as well.

  “Just a second,” he said.

  He picked up the microphone and hit the button.

  “Attention golfers. We are adding another lucky color for the next five minutes. The lucky ball color is red… or maybe blue. Or, maybe red and blue mixed together. Which I guess is purple. Anyone scoring a hole in one with the red ball, a blue ball or a red-blue purple ball can come to the clubhouse and collect his prize.”

  This time when he finished with the microphone, he dropped it and it fell over on the counter. Then, Mr. Shiner flopped backwards and plopped down hard on a little folding chair in the corner.

  “Mr. Shiner? Are you okay?” Toby asked with a worried tone. “You sure look flushed, Sir.”

  “I'm okay. I'm okay,” the old man replied. However, this time his words were coming out slurred. “I fought in the Big War you know and I'm okay.”

  Suddenly, he popped back up with excitement crackling in his voice.

  “And you want to know why I'm okay? Because, I have a secret. A secret secret secret. And do ya wanna know what the secret is?” He paused and looked around.

  “Mr. Shiner,” Toby interrupted, “you really don't look well, Sir. Maybe you had better sit back down. Is there something we can get you?”

  But, the old man leaned over onto the counter and waved us in close so he could reveal something in private.

  “Iss a Maaagic secret,” he whispered.

  Then he began to giggle. And, when an 80 year old man starts to giggle – it's kind of scary.

  “Is there someone we can call for you, Mr. Shiner,” Charlie pleaded.

  Mr. Shiner giggled again like someone playing drunk on TV.

  “Maagic,” he said.

  He motioned to us close in around him.

  “Merlin's Magic,” he whispered. Then, he put his finger to his lips to let us know that was the big secret, and we should not tell anybody.

  And, then Mr. Shiner collapsed.

  When Mr. Shiner went down, it took us all by surprise. And as he fell he grabbed an arm load of putters from the counter. And, those putters would have come down on top of his head if Thor had not moved unbelievably quickly and snatched them first.

  Instinctively, Charlie leaped over the counter to grab the old man. Meanwhile, I flipped the little catch lock on the half-sized wooden door and the rest of us hurried inside the booth. Charlie laid Mr. Shiner across the cement floor of the clubhouse, while I placed a rolled up towel I found on a shelf below the old fellow’s head.

  “Look, Listen and Feel,” Toby called over to us. Behind me I could hear Toby dialing the clubhouse phone and then talking to the 911 operator.

  We began employing the techniques we picked up in our CPR training. But, this was not like anything we practiced at the YMCA. Mr. Shiner’s breathing was rapid and strong and his heart was beating – about a mile a minute.

  Charlie took the handkerchief that was dangling from his hand and placed it under a stream from the water bottle. He used it to wet Mr. Shiner's face down, while I held his head between my hands.

  “He's burning up!” said Charlie as he wet Mr. Shiner down.

  “Maybe he's overheated?” I suggested. Meanwhile, Charlie kept the water flowing.

  Fortunately, the rescue station was only 3 blocks away. (Everything is close in a small town). Within 5 minutes Mr. Shiner was on a backboard and we were helping to lift him over the waist high door to the shack. On the count of three, we lifted him onto the ambulance's gurney.

  The entire time Mr. Shiner was talking crazy. Mostly, he was mumbling how he was not going to let “Porky Porkbutt steal Merlin's Magic.”

  Then, as they were loading him into the back of the ambulance – he held out his hand and gasped for our attention.

  “Boys? Boys?”

  “We're right here, Mr. Shiner,” Toby answered. “We're right here.”

  “Straight and true, boys,” mumbled Mr. Shiner. “Straight and true.”

  Then, they shoved him into the back, shut the ambulance doors and shot off with the siren screeching

  **************

  Chapter Seven: When Seniors Go Bad - Just Say No!

  As the siren finally faded in the distance, it suddenly seemed very quiet.

  After the rush of excitement and fea
r, I was exhausted and a little shaky. And, I guess the other guys were too. Without saying anything, all four us plopped down on the orange bench beside hole #1, where golfers wait to tee up.

  When the ambulance left, I swear it took part of my brain with it. All I wanted to do was find a nice shady spot and lay down. We had just gone through something hard... and scary. And, I didn't know what to make of Mr. Shiner's collapse.

  Was he going to be okay? Did we do the right thing? What was wrong with him? And, what was all that talk about Merlin and Magic?

  I glanced over at Charlie, and he was pale, and he had a funny dazed look on his face. For once, even Charlie was at a loss for words.

  Thor did not look much better. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something – but I guess he did not know what to say because he finally just closed it and shook his head back and forth.

  Then I looked over at Toby.

  When the crisis hit, it was like a fog engulfed my brain and shorted out the synapses. My feet were suddenly trapped in blocks of cement and my hands were frozen in Jello. But, Toby sliced right threw that fog and took charge in his methodical sort of way. He made sure that we all went through our lifesaving procedures step by step just like in class.

  Toby was not bossy. He was thorough. And, he stood up to the challenge.

  I wanted to say something to Toby; something to tell him what a great job he had done. I wanted to tell him how impressed and proud I was of him. And, say how if I ever had another crisis, I sure wanted him at my side.

  And, stuff like that.

  Instead, I just reached over and put my right hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye and nodded. Charlie and Thor leaned in and patted Toby on the back.

  It was a moment.

  ********

  Charlie finally broke the spell, “Mr. Shiner was lucky that we brought Toby along, today!”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed.

  “Positively,” Thor added.

  “I just hope he's okay,” Toby added modestly. “This is the last thing the poor old guy needs – with the town council trying to take away his golf course.”

  “Well, maybe that's why he did it,” said Thor.