Fictional Humor
Date Published: August 15th 2017
Publisher: Grave Distractions Publications
When seniors normally settle into Cedar Branch Retirement Community they begin a simpler and slower pace of living. Not this group! With Jack Goslin, Karl and Betty Rutherfurd, and the Stevens Sisters nothing is simple or slower after moving into the number one retirement community in the south. With the neighboring resort battling over the beach property our eccentric group of seniors avenge war on the uptight and controlling manager of the resort. And after CBC gives the green light for residents to have private golf carts, well things just get even crazier for Derrick St. Clair.
From the new exotic fitness instructor, to Violet’s secret winery, Jack’s pimped out golf cart, and a host of other new issues for the director, CBC continues to gain popularity as the most interesting retirement community in the south. If you are looking for a place to retire, settle down, or witness bizarre fiascos stop by Cedar Branch, who knows – you just might make it home!
Excerpt:
Cedar
Branch had a long-standing rule about BBQ grills on the balconies of The Tower
apartments, a rule created by an incident five years prior to Jack Goslin
moving in. On the sixth floor facing the
tranquil emerald gulf, a retired couple was enjoying the evening cooking
chicken on a newly acquired stainless steel grill. The gentleman opened the lid to inspect the
meat, and their curious two-year-old Persian cat leaped on the grill, catching
the hair of its tail on fire. At the
same time the cat suddenly combusted, the lady opened the door to the balcony,
allowing the fire ball to run inside, catching the curtains, couch, a vase of
silk flowers, and unpaid tax documents on the table on fire. After an hour of extinguishing the flames,
the couple was left with ruined furniture, burnt chicken, unreadable taxes, and
a bald cat—thus generating almost instantly the “No BBQ grill” rule.
In
the midst of a welcome cool front, though, the residents of CBC were out
enjoying an evening without the brutal heat that the South was so notorious for
developing. On the fifth floor of the
Tower apartments, Karl lifted the top off the grill to inspect the filets
wrapped with bacon slowly cooking on Jack’s new grill. Picking up a pair of cooking tongs, he gently
lifted one of the pieces of meat and examined the bottom. “You keep opening the top, they’ll never get
done,” Jack said, walking back out on his balcony with a refilled glass of
bourbon.
“Your fire is too hot!
They’re gonna burn,” Karl groaned.
“If you’re looking, then you’re not cooking! The fire is fine.”
Karl mumbled a few words, then made it over to the
rocking chair he had claimed weeks earlier when Jack moved in. The sound of the construction work from below
started to die down as the time neared 6:00 p.m. and quitting time. Jack leaned over the railing and watched a
few young men roll up a couple of orange extension cords while others locked
down their tool boxes and work areas.
Pulling his attention back to the grill, he saw Karl lifting the lid
again.
“You are as nosey as the Stevens Sisters.”
Karl closed the lid with an indignant “I am not! Your fire is too hot.” Pouting, he made his
way back to his rocking chair.
Jack sat down next to him. “You are like the wife I never
had,” he chuckled while taking a sip from his 1792 Ridgemont Reserve bourbon.
“Huh. You drink
too damn much to be married to me,” Karl said under his breath.
“I’d drink more if we were married,” Jack answered even
more quietly.
“What?” Karl asked.
“Nothing.”
A commotion broke out under their balcony, causing both
men to exit their chairs and lean over the railing in time to see half a dozen
construction workers standing below the third balcony with arms outstretched to
catch the cold beer cans being tossed down.
The Stevens Sisters had moved from one side of the apartments to the
other, giving them a front row to the Gulf of Mexico. “Hey, Rutherfurd!” Violet looked up, yelling
at the two older men, “you on fire up there, or did you finally decide to burn
that painting you made last week?”
Karl rolled his eyes. “Good Lord! It’s like Mardi Gras meets redneck central
around here!”
The
six construction workers cheered and waved to the Stevens Sisters as they made
their way to their trucks with half-a-dozen cold beers. Beyond the construction and across the
highway, the waves crashed on the white sandy beaches of southern Alabama,
occupied at this end of the day by only a few people taking their strolls and
awaiting the sunset.
“Hey Goslin! You
want a beer?” Violet shouted up toward the two men.
“Just poured a glass,” Jack held out his bourbon. “Do you want some Mardi Gras beads?” he
shouted back, looking at Karl and adding to his earlier comment.
“Hell, yea!” Violet shouted back and grabbed the bottom
of her shirt to pull up, knowing what it meant to ask for beads on a parade
route during Mardi Gras.
June grabbed her hand, “Violet, nobody wants to see your
girls. Jack probably doesn’t have any
beads.”
“Yea, you’re probably right. Plus who am I kidding—there’s no way in hell
they would be able to see the girls from above me, they’ve been hanging around
my waist for 15 years!” Violet walked back into their apartment.
The men settled back in the rocking chairs awaiting the
filets and an evening that promised a colorful sunset. “Well, I’ll hand it to those workers; they
finished the bridge in record time,” Jack said, pointing at the new bridge that
crossed the highway from CBC to the beach.
“It’s only one lane.
And now that we can have golf carts, it’s just going to cause a traffic
jam to get to and from the beach!” Karl griped.
“Are you and Betty going to buy that four-seater?” Jack
asked.
“Now why in the hell would I buy a four-seater golf
cart? I’m not running a taxi service.”
“In case I need a ride.”
“Drive your own damn golf cart.”
Jack laughed at his comment as a strong knock came from
his door. “Betty?” Jack asked.
“No, she’s down at the art center with Kat.”
Jack walked through his apartment and set his glass down
on the counter top before opening the door. “Jack, you know the rules,” Derrick
said, leaning on the door frame as Jack opened the door.
“I’ve got you a steak on the grill, had them flown in
from New York,” Jack replied, stepping out of the way to allow Derrick to walk
in.
“Cooking me a steak is not going to undo the rules.”
“Maybe for tonight; I’ll get rid of it tomorrow.”
Derrick followed Jack to the balcony, adding a “Hello,
Mr. Rutherfurd.”
“Have you bought that girl a ring yet?” Jack asked.
“Not yet.”
Something caught Jack’s eyes beyond the conversation, and
as he focused on what was flying from the Tower Apartments, a loud explosion
echoed from below, and the object flying out from the building disappeared in
an orange dust cloud. Karl spit out his
drink. “Good Lord, what in the hell was that?”
A voice shouted from below them, “Pull!”
The three men witnessed another clay target leave the
Stevens sisters’ balcony, followed by another explosion from the shotgun barrel
following its clay target. People on the
beach ran for cover, a man riding his bicycle ran into a sign, and a flock of
sea gulls scattered for their lives. “Pull!” Violet shouted again, followed by
another shotgun blast.
“Keep my steak warm—I’ll be right back,” Derrick said,
dashing out of Jack’s apartment on his way to the third floor.
“I swear, those damn hillbillies will be the death of
us!” Karl grumbled, holding his chest.
About the Author
Lee DuCote has traveled the world researching cultures, people, and historical accounts to help create his stories. A native to Louisiana, he writes to give hope and encouragement to others, as well as to entertain and spark the imagination. Lee lives in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas with his wife and family and is the author of seven novels including Camp 80 that earned him an international book award.
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