LIW&B Chapter 5 (part one)

Mel Stotch was no gourmet chef, but could cook well when he wanted to put forth the effort. Mel could grill burgers. He ate a lot of burgers, almost as many burgers as boloney sandwiches. Sometimes he spent the effort on his specialty, Beer Can Chicken, his traditional birthday meal. Mel had a few recipes for chili, some with pork sausage and bacon, but that was too much fuss for a single old man. There was no reason to spend the money on a meal like that, not just for himself. Mel liked simple, burgers and baloney sandwiches. He didn't have much practice cooking for a child. Through trial and error and vomit they arrived at one masterpiece Happy grew to love as his favorite, pancakes.

Mel served pancakes with lots of syrup and butter and that's how Happy liked them. Mel had mixed up batter and flipped pancakes since he was a child. Many hungover mornings absorbed easier when the old man took the time. When he took the time, he took it very seriously.

"Ya gotta put your elbows into mixing this batter. No clumps or holes, keep it smooth," he would growl to his young son. And go easy on the flour! It's a pancake not a pansteak! If you can't cut it with the fork, it's not edible. Sometimes you pour some syrup on there and let it soak in to soften up. If you still can't cut it with the fork, send it back." Mel felt good to brag.

Breakfast was served between 8-9, depending on when the old man woke up. Occasionally, it could push 10 if the rum went down too easily the night before. After breakfast, Mel would walk the dump grounds cleaning his rat traps. This would last a few hours while Happy stayed at home for his daily lessons. The teacher was never absent and had 6 channels, although two of them came with heavy static. Mel would come home just after noon. He'd fix the boy some lunch, normally baloney and cheese, and have a nip or two. Then Mel and Happy would sit in the trailer, enveloped in nicotine clouds and waves of stale air. They would watch TV, mostly cartoons and kid's shows. Mel could watch anything when he was drunk.

This was their routine and both had grown very fond of it. The only major change for Mel was not going to the track in the afternoon. But he learned to appreciate the money that wasn't lost on horses. He learned to appreciate staying home to raise a child. This was their routine and their life.

Trucks would dump from 6am until late afternoon, but this didn't require Mel's presence. They were giving not taking. And Mel had nothing to take. He had garbage. No one wanted that. Except the rats.

So it was that Happy woke to Mel's prodding when the moon still shone two weeks after his fourth birthday. He didn't understand why Mel had pancakes crisping hours earlier than normal. Happy had no reason to doubt his father. He rubbed his eyes and began cutting the cakes with his fork.

"I'm takin' you to work with me today," Mel advised while Happy swirled a section of pancake in syrup. "I think you're big enough to start earnin' your keep."
"OK," Happy accepted.

Mel had kept Happy away from the rats. He had seen some monsters. They had seen him, or most importantly, smelled him. They knew he was their nemesis. Mel felt them watch as he pulled one of their lifeless own from under the stained lead springs of the kill traps. The rats had quite a kingdom in Mel's dump. He imagined them plotting against their evil dictator from the shadows.

The rats were smart, which meant they were dangerous. But they never approached the trailer where he slept. This is why Mel always kept Happy in the trailer when he was away. Now the boy had turned 4. Mel had burn scars from spitting hot engines at the same age. He figured it was time to expose Happy to some scars of his own.

Mel explained the dangers to his son. "You can't go runnin' over to pet 'em. These rats ain't afraid. They're just waitin' for their chance. And never go out there with food in your hand. Give 'em a hint you got some food and they'll swarm at ya."

Happy was a young boy and inherently fascinated with all that creeped and crawled. Regardless of Mel's warnings, he wanted more than anything to see a rat in full view. He only managed to catch glimpses of a hairless tail or a dirty gray rump scurry behind a tire or shattered crate. Mel watched him looking out the window hoping for a sighting. The old man knew his warnings only fed the mania, but he couldn't think of another way. He wanted Happy to have the fun he wanted, but to proceed with extreme caution. He wanted Happy to approach the unknown better than he did.

Mel knew his son would be delighted to accompany him on his hunts. He was a new parent and struggled with how to present the dangers in his kingdom. Mel originally planned the pre dawn breakfast for Happy's fourth birthday. Two weeks later, the old man finally decided the pros were worth the cons.

"You're gonna go hunt rats with me," the old man unveiled.
Happy's eyes flashed like a poker machine. "Really?" he shrieked with a mouth full of pancake.
Mel nodded, reminded again how he made the right decision. "Really."
Happy jumped off his chair and into the old man's lap, throwing both arms around his neck in celebration. "I love you, Dad!"
Mel accepted the embrace and hugged his son back. "I love you, too, Happy."

Tears were blocked from leaving their ducts by Mel's sheer will. He picked his son from his lap and set him on the floor, a trying challenge for a 73 year old alcoholic. He cleared his throat and wiped his nose to allow the emotion to evaporate. He caught his breath and pumped his fist for the belated birthday gift.
"Now let's go kill some rodents, Son!" The proud father cheered.