Once Upon a Tee Time

The three guest couples arrived at Sleepy Hollow at the same time, precisely five p.m. The hosts and two young boys stood on the front steps to greet them. Harvey held a tray with six flutes of bubbling champagne, a Green tradition. The visiting grandsons wore new St. Louis Cardinals jerseys in Knickers’ honor.

Shawn, the younger of the two boys at age eight, nudged his brother Sam, who was ten. “Which do you think is the famous baseball player?”

Harvey smiled at Knickers and shrugged.

“Well, it’s not that one,” Sam guessed, glancing at Mulligan. “He’s too short to be a pro.”

Ray elbowed Mulligan. “And it’s not me,” he laughed. “I’m a golfer.” He surprised himself with the impulsive response. Was he bragging already?

Mulligan reached into his breast pocket and produced a pair of Mickey Collins baseball cards. He handed each boy an autographed souvenir.

Knickers bought thousands of the cards when they were first printed. He had signed them all with the intention of handing them out at every request. Unfortunately, supply proved greater than demand and he still had most of them. Mulligan maintained an endless supply and forced them on people whenever he traveled with Knickers.

The boys looked back and forth between the photo of the player and Knickers the 72-year-old. Sam giggled. “Your pants look really funny in the picture.”

“Baggy and short,” his brother added. “I heard about these old baseball cards. They came with gum, right?

“Yeah, where’s the gum?” Sam asked.

“Here it is,” Ray replied, producing a pack of Juicy Fruit from his pocket. He gave each boy a stick and they raced into the house.

Inside, Ray quickly drained two glasses of champagne while listening to the chitchat, much of it about his new appearance without glasses. The women called him dashing. The men thought he looked weird. When Pat mentioned his improved vision, Ray assured everyone the change was unbelievable; they all looked younger and more beautiful than ever.

The drinks went straight to his bladder, so he headed for the guest bathroom. Lucy was a world class entertainer and even her bathroom reflected it. Fresh flowers graced the top of the toilet tank, elegant floral towels hung everywhere, and a dish of little colored soaps, shaped like rosebuds, sat by the sink. The toilet seat cover was fitted with a plush, pink mini-rug that matched the larger one on the floor.

Ray stood over the toilet, head back and eyes closed, enjoying a stream that still had steam, at least for his age. Suddenly the toilet seat dropped, wreaking havoc. Leaping back, he dribbled all over the right leg of his black slacks and the tile floor.

“Shit!” he exclaimed loudly, then heard audible laughter from the other side of the wall. Little boy laughter. Hysterical little boy laughter.

After cleaning up his mess, he walked into the adjoining guest bedroom. Shawn and Sam were still rolling on the floor, giggling.

Before Ray could say a word, the smaller boy pointed at him. “The toilet seat got you, didn’t it?”

“It got me too!” Shawn squealed. “Grandma put that rug on the toilet cover this afternoon. It’s too thick. It pushes the seat down every time!”

“We’ve been waiting for someone to use it,” Sam said proudly. “You can hear pretty good if you put your ear against the wall.”

“The seat falls down after two or three seconds,” Shawn said. “We timed it.”

Ray cleared his throat. “You should have told your grandma about the cover so she could remove it.” The boys squinted as if he were speaking a foreign language. “Think of your grandma. She’d be very unhappy if she knew her guests were having a problem.”

Sam interrupted. “Listen! Somebody else is in the bathroom!” Both boys put their ears to the wall and looked at each other, wide-eyed and grinning.

Mulligan was singing his favorite song. “He was bad, bad Leroy Brown, baddest man in the whole dang town ...” Ray leaned closer to the wall too.

“Badder than old King Kong, meaner than a junkyard ... damn!”

The younger boy high-fived his brother. “He said, ‘damn!’”

“Damn funny is what that is,” the older boy giggled.

After high-fiving the boys, Ray returned to more mundane adult festivities. Everyone gathered at the dining room table, where Lucy’s best china and silverware were on display.

Mulligan was last to join the group. He pointed to a large wet spot on his light green pants. “When will I ever learn to drink from a flute without spilling?”

Ray laughed with the others as they all sat down for dinner. Halfway through the meal, after the boys were excused to play video games, Mulligan’s wife Mary started the conversation.

“Ladies,” she said, looking down the table to Lucy and Pat, “did you know that our husbands remind Knickers and Bess of the lion, the tin man and the scarecrow from the ‘Wizard of Oz’ movie? Isn’t that positively hilarious?”

Bess kicked Knickers’ ankle under the table, punishment for sharing a private conversation. Knickers wanted to kick Mulligan, who in turn was thinking about kicking Mary for the same reason.

Harvey recognized a hint of tension and came to the rescue. “I’d much rather be the tin man than Ichabod Crane!”

Mulligan redirected the talk. “Hey, Lucy, we already know that Harvey is your Ichabod and Ray’s your George Bailey, but how about the rest of us? Who do we remind you of?” Everyone looked to their hostess, begging for entertainment.

Lucy studied the ceiling for a few seconds. “Well, I actually think quite a bit about all of you, and I do have my ideas. You know I watch lots of television, especially the old shows.”

“Tell us,” Mary insisted. “I can hardly wait!”

“Well, Mary, your husband is My Cousin Vinny. Did you see the movie?”

Harvey belly-laughed, glad that someone would have to share his pain. “Joe Pesci! He is Mulligan Wettman!”

“Cousin Vinny with a dash of his role in ‘GoodFellas’ thrown in,” Bess added.

Ray laughed at the great comparison. Mulligan had an air about him that suggested he could do anything, or at least thought he could. And he certainly had the gift of gab.

“I think Joe Pesci’s a little taller,” Knickers said. “Joe must be at least five-four.”

Mulligan grinned. He was on board with the Vinny thing. After all, Joe Pesci was a popular star.

“How about my husband?” Bess asked. “That ought to be good.”

Knickers sat up straight, folded his hands in front of him, and showed Lucy his sweetest smile - a portrait of an angel.

“For me,” she winked, “Knickers is the easiest of all.”

Harvey interrupted. “Tell me it’s Fred Flintstone! Knickers and Mulligan should be Fred and Barney.”

Lucy shook her head. “It’s Lieutenant Commander Quinton McHale, U.S. Navy.”

“Ernest Borgnine,” Mary exclaimed. “There’s a strong resemblance.”

“’McHale’s Navy,’” Knickers chuckled. “Who didn’t love that show? He was a great American. Good looking too.”

“He was a wiseguy who never stopped fooling around,” Mary pointed out.

“Yes,” Pat agreed. “Always up to something … mostly mischief.”

Lucy nodded enthusiastically. “My thinking exactly!”

Her eyes settled on Bess. “You’re Alice Mitchell, better known as the nurturing mother of Dennis the Menace.”

“That’s right,” Mulligan shouted. “Mother to Knickers the Menace!”

Harvey broke in again. “Wait, Lucy. Is Knickers McHale or Dennis the Menace? You’re confusing me.”

“They’re one and the same. McHale is just the older version.” Everyone agreed, even Knickers.

Lucy turned her attention to Mary, who slumped as if she wanted to hide. “You are the Sugarbaker sisters from ‘Designing Women’, a combination of both. You have all the finest qualities of each of them.”

Mulligan clapped his hands and grinned at his wife. “Can I just call you Sugar?”

“It’s true, Mary,” Bess said. “You know everything going on in Leisureville. I get all the latest news from you.”

“And you’re the best-dressed woman around,” Pat added.

“And then there’s Pat,” Lucy said. “The perfect mother who always puts her family first. She’s my Donna Reed. You all remember her show.”

Mary applauded. “Hey, Pat, you were married to George Bailey in ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’ What a coincidence that is!”

Only half-listening, Ray thought Lucy’s reflections were on target. Pat would be delighted with the Donna Reed comparison. At the same time, his mind was back on the practice green, making one monster putt after another. How could he focus on anything else?

“To be honest,” Lucy said, “Ray reminded me of someone else last week.”

That disclosure earned Ray’s full attention. What happened to George Bailey? He was fine with that.

“Do you all remember the show ‘Wild Bill Hickock?’” Lucy asked.

Ray flashed to the heroic Wild Bill, played by Guy Madison. It wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“No way,” Harvey objected. “There’s no way that Ray’s Wild Bill! He’d be more like Mild Bill.”

Mulligan tapped his temple with a finger. “I know who you have in mind, Lucy. It’s the sidekick, right? The one who was always whining?”

Everyone stopped talking and chewing and stared at Mulligan, then Lucy. Ray smelled trouble.

“That’s it!” Lucy confirmed, lifting her champagne. “His name was Jingles! Played by Andy Devine.”

Laughter erupted around the table. Nearly everyone raised a flute to toast Lucy’s brilliance.

Ray tapped his glass with a fork. “You’ll have to explain that one. I don’t look like that Jingles character at all. All he did was complain in that funny voice of his.”

The dining room went silent. Everyone stared at Ray, nodding and grinning. Oh, no, he thought.

“I’m getting so old,” Mulligan mocked, trying to sound like the old black and white TV Jingles, “I can’t remember how to putt.”

“Can’t make one to save my life,” Knickers said in a similar voice. “I used to make at least a few.”

“I’ve lost ten yards off my driver in the last month alone,” Harvey said, choking on laughter.

Mulligan’s eyes were wet with amusement. “You never complained when you were shooting par, Ray.”

Even Pat joined the banter with a Jingles impersonation. “I’m just wasting my time on the golf course.”

“It hit me last week,” Lucy said. “Ray was picking up Harvey and moaned about forgetting to put on his shoes or put in his teeth. I said to myself, ‘There sits Jingles. Not on a horse, but in a golf cart.’”

Ray hung his head. The quotes were accurate. He had started to complain. In doing so, he violated an unspoken code within The Foursome: Never whine about anything. Living in a senior community, they all knew that carping was a habit for many and a preoccupation for many more. The Foursome’s refusal to take the low road was an important bond between them.

He noted the sparkle in the other men’s eyes; sure as hell, they were going to start calling him Jingles. Nonetheless, Lucy had done him a favor. It was time to refocus and be positive. Refocus. With his new lens, that wouldn’t be difficult at all.

Lucy served dessert, allowing Ray a reprieve from the teasing. Chocolate mousse cake stopped all the talking.

Knickers was thinking about the Christmas decorations stored in his garage. Did he have some jingle bells? Yes, they were affixed to red ribbons that he hung on the tree. He would have to tie some to Birdie Chaser’s rearview mirror.

A different thought wasn’t so pleasant. Another week had passed without Ray saying a word about his car. He was sick and tired of pouring unleaded into Plumlee’s gas hog every morning.

Knickers decided to give the subject a little push. “Mulligan, Bess and I are thinkin’ about gettin’ a new car.”

“We are?” Bess asked.

Her husband grimaced. “Sorry, Bess. I was gonna surprise you and ruined it.”

Bess felt Knickers’ foot kick hers this time. As his confidant in everything - the sign in front of the Green’s house had been her idea - she knew exactly what her husband was up to. She had tossed a playful curve to see how he’d handle it.

“You have anything special in mind?” Mulligan asked.

“Not really. Just something reliable. Probably another Chevy.”

Harvey entered the discussion. “Well, I’d get something that’s affordable to run.” He winked at Knickers, acknowledging that his friend could buy an airplane if he wanted one. Knickers’ wealth had grown by another $200,000 that very day.

Ray looked up from his dessert. “If you’re lucky, Knickers, you can find a car like ours. We’re getting close to seventy miles to the gallon.”

Knickers nearly shit himself. It had been three long weeks, much longer than anticipated. All those trips to the gas station, all those early walks to Ray’s house, all the worrying about getting caught, finally over. Now it was payday. He and Bess kicked each other at the same time.

Mulligan cupped his ear with a hand. “Could you repeat that, Jingles? I couldn’t have heard you right.”

Jingles, Ray thought. He knew he wasn’t going to like the sound of it. To make matters worse, everyone else chuckled. “I said our Lincoln gets seventy miles. It’s a fact.”

Mulligan looked to Harvey. “I’m afraid our friend had a little too much of your bubbly stuff.”

“Or maybe played hooky from math class,” Harvey added.

Ray glared at Harvey. Did his partner really say that? Mulligan or Knickers might make that crack, or even Pat, but Harvey? He’d have to pay him back for the remark.

Harvey looked back at Ray. “I’m sorry, but that sounds kind of impossible. I don’t know much about cars, but I’d say our Toyota gets better mileage than a heavy car like your Lincoln. We get about twenty-eight on the highway, thirty tops.”

“Well, I know everything about cars, especially Fords,” Mulligan declared. “If you’re getting more than twenty-three to a gallon driving around here, my name is Jingles!”

Knickers sat back, enjoying the discussion. Commander McHale would put his stamp of approval on this night. Dennis too.

Pat joined the fray. “Irvin, you may not know as much about cars as you think. I pay all the bills and we hardly ever buy gas since we got the Lincoln.”

Knickers glanced at Pat, nodding empathy for her argument. Getting her in the mix was even better!

Mulligan coughed and stayed focused on Ray. He never argued with women; there was no winning. “Listen, Mr. Devine Jingles, I’m just saying that’s total bullshit.”

Ray didn’t like Mulligan’s tone. Swearing in front of the women was also inappropriate. The two were friends, great friends, but there had to be respect. Instead of explaining that his deceased neighbor made some unique improvement to the car, Ray decided to get even. “So, Mulligan, you want to bet?”

Mulligan smirked. “Bet? Bet on what? Whether Gladys Beckerman knocked you silly?”

Lucy rose at the head of the table. “Now, now, be nice. Why are you arguing over a silly old car?”

Ray answered, “Because my silly old car gets great mileage and Mulligan and Harvey don’t believe it.”

The smirk hadn’t left Mulligan’s face. “Tell you what, my silly old friend. The Cardinals are playing the New York Giants at the stadium next Monday night. The four of us will drive to the game in the Jinglesmobile. We’ll get seats on the fifty-yard line. If your car gets better than say, forty miles a gallon for the trip, I’ll pay for all the seats. How’s that for a deal?”

“Forty?” Ray grinned. “That’s a deal. I’ll pay for all the tickets if I lose.”

Pat said, “Wait, wouldn’t you girls like to go to the game too? Let’s make it eight tickets!”

Ray smiled at his wife. Pat didn’t get feisty very often, but she had it in her. Mulligan must have pissed her off. He squeezed her knee beneath the table.

“How much are tickets?” Mary asked her husband.

Harvey answered instead. “Must be about two hundred each.” Then he turned to Ray. “Maybe you should go for cheaper seats, in the end zone maybe.”

“Midfield it is,” Ray stated.

“It’s about fifty miles each way,” Mulligan figured. “We’ll fill the tank before we go and again when we get back.”

Harvey said, “I’ll take my car too, if the ladies are coming.”

“One problem,” Ray pointed out. “We’re going to have to pay for the tickets in advance. Why don’t we settle the bet tomorrow afternoon after golf? We’ll drive to Apache Wells for the matinee at the dog track. I just topped off my tank.”

That sounded perfect to Knickers. No more trips to the Plumlee garage! “You can count me in.”

“Me too,” said Harvey.

Mulligan nodded. “It’s a date then. And a bet!”

On the way home in Birdie Chaser, Pat’s face was still flushed. “Could you believe that Irvin Wettman? He’s usually such a gentleman.”

Ray told her the story of Mulligan’s misadventure with the falling toilet seat. Pat expressed nothing but sympathy for Irvin’s misfortune. No sense of humor. She’d be on the phone to Lucy the moment they walked in their door, warning her of the dangers of her bathroom.

“About the bet,” Ray said. “You have to appreciate Mulligan’s point of view. I didn’t think mileage like that was possible either. If it’s okay with you, we’ll share the cost of all the tickets after he learns his lesson. We’re saving a fortune on gas anyway.”

Pat knew the expense would strain their budget, but agreed. At least Irvin and the others would learn that the Plumlees shouldn’t be underestimated.

“And we can’t forget about Mrs. Tanner,” Ray added. “She deserves some flowers for selling us her wonderful car.”