‘Ol Man Walker and the Solicitor

I guess Young Davey probably knew better. Moths probably know better. Or should. But for whatever reason, they, just like, Young Davey, cannot resist the temptation of the flame. 

Young Davey was not so old that he could claim to have wife and children. Nor a home if his own. True indeed, he were a fair bit shy of that age. Yeah, he weren’t that old. 

Nor was he so young he couldn’t have not known better. You know, he weren’t like some innocent scout out selling cookies door to door, you know. Them at that age may not know no better. Like e.g. they don’t have an understanding of the vocabulary word quote solicitor unquote. 

So Young Davey gets up to Ol’ Man Walker’s door and he reads that big ol’ sign he has on that there door. The one that is so big you can read some of it directly from the street. The one that has in big ol’ letters quote-NO SOLICITORS-unquote.

I remember when Ol’ Walker first put up that sign on his door. I was out waterin’ the lawn, smokin’ a cig, and he comes out of the door with that big ol’ wooden plywood board. I didn’t know what it was at that time. No, I didn’t imagine I gave it any thought at all. 

But then I started hearin’ a racket and so on over the passing moments. I look in the direction of that noise all annoyed and everything and there I see Ol’ Man Walker bangin’ and a hammerin’ away on that big ol’ plywood board. Hammerin’ right there where it still hangs today up against that there porch rail of his. 

So I get all annoyed and in a huff at this noise he’s a creatin’  and so I marched right up over there to get to the business end of what was a causin’ all my annoyance. Honestly, it had me at wits end! I’d never! I’m all like “God dammit Walker! What the hell you messin’ about creatin’ a ruckus on this here fine summer day!?” 

And he says “I’ve just about have had enough of those god damn solicitor types. I’m just!! So damn maaaad at them that I cain’t stand them! Caint hardly see straight! God dammit! So, I’m putting up this god damn sign!”

So I say “Well, you are creatin’ a darn ruckus! Can I at least read it?”

He tells me I can “knock my little dainty socks off” and that he “don’t give a good god damn what I choose to do or not do!”

So I read the sign:

NO SOLICITORS!

YES, THAT MEANS YOU!

FAILURE TO HEED THIS WARNING IS ON YOU!
YOU WILL REGRET NOT HEADING THIS WARNING!

I PROMISE YOU THAT!

GO AWAY!

DO NOT KNOCK ON MY DOOR!

GO!

AWAY!

I SHIT YOU NOT!

Like, I said, it was a big sign. I must say, though, it was done real professional like. Like really legible and easy on the eyes like it were done professionally by some one that knew exactly what they was a doin’. Was sanded up real real well. I touched it. It was a very pleasing to the touch.  He had it sanded down all satin like. If you know what I mean. Tastefully stained and all. A bit of a rich honey hue. Neither flat or gloss, but somewhere in between. I suppose it were satin come to think on it. Solid stuff that board. Not that cheap flimsy plywood board, neither.  The good stuff. Can’t say that it really matched the door, of course and all. But that weren’t the sign’s fault none.

You know that sign is still there exactly where he nailed it to the door that day all these years later. And I swear it looks not a day older. Why his whole ol’ rickety house will fall over and that sign is apt to be leaning against the dust heap it leaves behind looking not a day past new I reckon’. 

Granted his haphazard reckless nailing of that sign to the door makes for an awful interesting juxtaposition. Beautiful sign. Shitty install. Makes one wonder why Ol’ Walker went through all that effort to obtain such an incredibly well done sign just to randomly nail it seemingly willy nilly, bent nails and all, to his door. Guess he just weren’t messin’ around with the sign is all.

Truth be told, I wouldn’t have minded such a sign. Well, just the NO SOLICITORS portion. Naw, I would like such a sign, but one of a more modest size is all. The immense size was that typical Ol’ Man Walker over the top bullshit. Man tries to out crazy himself. Most of the time. Though, I guess looking back on it in hindsight maybe it was not all bullshit. 

Anyhow, back to Young Davey… I see him standing directly in front of the sign near the door and he’s just standing there a lookin’ at that sign, a rockin’ back and forth on his feet like he was a human teeter totter pondering a mighty mighty decision as to which way to teeter or totter. I don’t think he knew I was in the vicinity observing him as I was under this here shade tree sitting in this here chair at the time. I was reading my book sipping a beer and I was in the shadows so to speak.

After closer observation I further notice Young Davey looking skittishly betwixt the sign on the door and the street. He looked as though some one were in a car waiting for him to finish up his business. He was all nervous like that. 

Of course there was no car, and no one generally there, but you get the gist. He was in a moment of, as they say, doubt.

And then he ever so slowly raises his arm to knock on the door. You could have sworn he was being controlled by some puppet master. That boy moved his arm just like he were a gosh darn marionette. Like that little wooden Pinocchio feller. He raised his arm just like that. Dwoooooooop! Up went his arm. Ha!

Truth be told I silently gasped. I wanted to to shout “No! Don’t do it! He’s crazy! You’re crazy! You’re all crazy! He’s also really lazy! He wouldn’tuh bothered with all that fuss with the sign if he didn’t mean it!”

But I must confess that I really wanted to see what happened. What kind of sick pleasure is that?  Forgive me Lord! I let the moment unfold without my intrusion.

And so Young Davey knocked on the door. 

I must commend Young Davey on that account. Boy do I consider him brave. Bravest of the brave my dear lord. But it was also stupid as could be.

He rose his arm with the conviction of the truly faithful and he gave that door several nice firm rasps with his knuckles. Bold, confident sounding knocks. I could comfortably hear them all the way over her and my hearin’ aint to snuff! Even back then. He applied a bit of rhythm to his knocking. Something with a sight swing to it. Like one solid knock with a slight pause and then four rapid fire slightly quieter knocks. Repeated twice, with the second repetition including a final three knocks that brought it to closure. Oh, I must say I quite liked that touch. 

Considering what must have been an immense pressure to disregard the sign, he kept his composure during his knock very professional. Like he was some Max Roach of knocking on doors performing for an elite audience.

A moment passed. Nothing happened. I must tell you that I may have felt a slight urge of disappointment. And I confess, guilty relief. I thought to myself “Well, at least that lad will live to see another day.”

But then I could not hardly believe what I saw next. Can you believe that I saw Young Davey lean forward and, for a second time, rap once again on that very same door? I could not believe it!e Yet there I saw it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears. Same pattern. Imagine that?! Imagine?!

Guess he musta been feeling a bit bold he was! He then looked at the street and gave it a nice broad smile. Why he did that I have no idea. No one was there. It was like he was a bit soft in the head. I can only imagine kids that age like to go about like they are in a video every where they go. They mosey this way or that way always expecting to be on camera and so it must be very natural for them to look at cameras imagined or not. 

No sooner was Young Davey a smilin’ at the street when the door suddenly swinns wide open! And there, standing right in the middle of it, is Ol’ Man Walker. He has that menacin’ look about him, you know. That one look where one can only surmise that he wants to rip your head right straight off its stem so that he can more easily get at and eat your intestines. Yeah, that look. Never a good thing when he is looking at you like that. Gives me the shudders just thinkin’ about it.

I mean, I know he just wants to be left be, and I mostly do just that. I? I, have no problems with him. I talk to him. But only once in a while if his demeanor suggests he won’t club me to death first. He don’t say much at all. But he don’t have to. You know? I get it, we aint goin’ to be closer than absolutely necessary. Not with him no how. I respect that. And so I just leave him be. Sure, absent the odd comment here and there when my curiosity gets the best of me. But even then it is always a gentle, small, brush of a conversation. Nothing terribly probing. Nothing that would overwhelm ones senses. I make small comments that do not require a return comment. “Strange weather we are having.” “People keep speeding on this damn road.” “Nice sign you have there.”. Little ambrosias of small talk, if you will. At most he will just grunt out something in concurrence. Short, abrupt like. More often than not- crickets!

But Young Davey, he don’t know all that apparently. I don’t know how he cain’t. He was young and stupid I guess. He’s lived here his whole life.  I suppose it’s one of life’s mysteries. 

You’d think he could maybe put one and one together, that’s all. Mean Ol’ Man Walker. Mean Ol’ Man Walker who never hesitates to run kids out of the neighborhood chasing them with a shotgun full of salt pellets when they get too loud. Mean Ol’ Man Walker who once beat that man near to death when he came running out that Becky’s house that one time with her yellin’ “Thief! Thief!” 

That one was a hoot! That guy come running out of the house with a big ol’ bag of what was probably full of worthless junk, but was apparently Becky’s cherished treasure. Ol’ Man Walker just as casual as could be just appeared out of no where and grabs that man. And then proceeds to beat the holy bejesus out of him. Ha! Good on him. Soon as he heard the police sirens he stops like he done heard the dinner bell. He calm as can be walks back into the house and closes the door like nothin’ happened.

And, of course, none of us said a word to the Sheriff about what we saw. “No sir, we have no idea what happened to that man. Had never seen that man before. He was just suddenly there looking like god knows what kind of mess. Hmmm, strange. I was just sitting here napping in my chair. You woke me up with those darn sirens blaring. Is that really necessary? It’s not like there is a dead man lying around. Oh, that, that is just a man that looks like he has had some slight misfortune. Nothing that won’t heal. I dunno, maybe he’ll avoid whatever accident he has had in the future.”

It’s true, I looked that man directly in the eye when I said that last part. You don’t mess with us here.

Sigh, my mind is a wanderin’ today..

So there stands Ol’ Man Walker and he says “Come inside you son of a bitch.” 

He didn’t yell it. No, he had that typical eerie weird calm he has right before the bad shit is about to happen. His tone that suggested that it was not so much a request as much as it was a command. 

Certainly I would have went inside. I would have sorrowfully said “Yes sir, I am indeed a son of a bitch!” even I obediently walked through the door like a steer to slaughter. 

Sure, I would have been scared to death to do so. “Make it as quick and as painless as possible!” is what I would have thought in such an instance were he to tell me such. 

I dunno what Young Davey was thinkin’. He just kind of stiffly obliged. And the door slammed shut behind him.

Now I must say it did pose me a bit of a moral dilemma. On the one hand, there is the sign on the rail near the door. I think it is a pretty clear sign with specifically clear commands. I think one could reasonably extrapolate that the juice weren’t worth the squeeze to do anything contrary to obeyin’ what the sign demands of us. 

But then I dunno why Young Davey was there at the door in the first place. Especially with that stupid grin on his face that he sometimes pitched towards the street. 

Maybe he was a thinkin’ he was desperate? Maybe he was just a kid really full of himself and a lookin’ for a thrill. Maybe he was tryin’ to make some money sellin’ this or that and really, really really needed the money- like for a sick kid sister or somethin’. 

But at the same time, I know what Ol’ Man Walker is capable of. We all do. I mean, he technically doesn’t do wrong per se, you know. But he also doesn’t technically do good neither. He just sort of does the kinds of shit that someone such as himself is going to do when someone is imposes not them a circumstance that is contrary to how they see the natural order of things.

So Davey is in there for a good while and nothin’ is happen’n except my conscience a wayin’ on me.  I’m guessin’ that maybe ten minutes go on by and not a sound to be heard all up and down this street except them cicadas buzzing around. 

That whole time I’m a thinkin’ that maybe I was probably gonna have to call the cops on Ol’ man Walker and all. And I’m a waiverin’ if I run down the street to call anonymously, but also implorin’ them to send Big Gerald in the hopes they just shoot Ol’ Man Walker so he never finds out who snitched on him. No

I’m pretty sure that had Young Davey had not popped back out of the door then, that I was probably going to call the cops. I’m pretty sure. I mean, I was sitting there starin’ at the door, thinking, “I wonder what is happening to Young Davey in there?” I confess that was getting more nervous by the moment. 

Truth be told I have no idea what could have been happening in there to warrant calling the cops. But it didn’t seem like it were necessarily a good thing. Wouldn’t I have called the coppers? Sometimes I don’t rightly know if I’m being honest and all.

But just as I was a startin’ to debate on that again, the door swung open.

I’ll tell you what, that Davey came out of that house a sweatin’ bullets and looking all nervous and wide eyed. And breathin’ unnaturally labored. He just stood there on the steps a moment. Then he briefly brushed the sweat off his forehead with his arm, put his hat back on and then likely split ran down the steps and down the street. Nary a look back either.

I popped out of the shade as he walked by. He seemed startled, though I do not pretend to know why. I’m just little old me. I would have been a bit flattered by his reaction had I not witnessed the prior events.

I asked him if he were ok as he looked a little bothered. A tad skittish. He just slightly shook his head as he held what was now an uncomfortable smile. And he kept on a walkin’ along with that semi hurried stiff legged gate he’s had ever since.

Who knows what happened? It was both long and brief encounter of sorts.  No proof of any crime. All I can say is that after his time in Ol’ Man Walker’s house, he seemed to comport himself as a young man that had acquired a very direct experience regarding the following of cautionary signs. 

And Ol’ Man Walker?  Well he was the same as he ever was, I guess.

I aint never seen anyone go knockin’ on his door since, either come to think on it.