The Best Summer Yet - Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX
　
Poor Mr. Atkins! He made the mistake of trying to be a good neighbor! Around midnight, he could smell something burning. He jumped out of bed and checked every room in his house. His family was safe. No smoke detectors had gone off. He checked his truck and his wife’s car. His boat and motor were safe. He looked out at the neighbor’s houses in front and on each side. Nothing, but he sure could smell it.
The Shed!
In a panic he went out the back door and saw not his shed, but the neighbor’s lawn burning.
Mr. Cummings had allowed his grass to grow 2 ½ feet tall. He then killed it with weed killer. When he figured that most if not all of his neighbors had gone to sleep, he set fire to it. Not to cause any problems.
He was saving money on gas. This way he didn’t have to cut it.
Mr. Atkins called the fire department and explained to them that it was only a grass fire but he didn’t want it to get out of control. He asked if they could be on stand by in case, and to keep it quiet coming into the neighborhood, so as not to alarm people in the middle of the night.
Those people who listen to scanners and those who are volunteers heard the call, and it was only a matter of minutes before the fire truck came blaring down the street! Rescue units, ambulances, police units and about 20 to 30 volunteers with sirens and horns blaring and lights flashing rushed to the scene.
And of course it woke the neighbors as well as Mr. Cummings. He was not a happy man! He wanted the neighborhood to wake up to his blackened lawn in the morning.
Now thanks to that confounded knucklehead, the grass was all gapped up instead of burning all the way down. And thanks to the blasted jokers on the fire truck, they had soaked his lawn, front and back and both sides, and when it dried, the nasty burned ashes and grass would be all over the place.
And the smell!!! You ever smelled burned wet grass?!!!
Not pleasant!!!
Mr. Hastings was worried about his fence so he grabbed a flashlight and went to the side of his house, afraid to see the damage that had been done. But to his surprise, all along the fence line, Mr. Cummings had laid out some long strips of fire retardant mats and the fire burned just to the edge of them, keeping his expensive fence safe.
He noticed something while he was there. No more urine smell, but also, no more dead fish odor. He made a mental note to tell that to his wife the next morning.
The police and firemen questioned Mr. C about how the fire got started. He assured them that he had nothing to do with it. Since he didn’t smoke and a cigarette filter was found in the front yard near the street, they came to the conclusion that it had been carelessly flicked out by a passing motorist.
No citations were issued, but Mr. C was cautioned about the condition of his yard and reminded him that the tall dry grass could have caused his house to burn as well.
“Yeah, ain’t it just dandy! And you say that fellow Hop Sing over there is the one responsible for all this?”
That would be Mr. Atkins, sir, not Hop Sing,” said the chief.
Mr. Cummings took a long hard look at Mr. Atkins before turning to go back into his house. He let out a stream of obscenities that made the firemen and policemen blush.
“That is one cranky old dude!” said the chief.
Everyone got into their vehicles and went on home.
Most folks went back to bed, but not Mr. Cummings. He sat at his front window glaring and cursing Mr. Atkins. He would get even with him, he vowed.
The following two weeks went by with nothing out of the ordinary happening. No one saw much of Mr. Cummings. Thinking that he might be ill, my mom took a big dish of homemade beef soup to him and Mrs. Hastings brought over a big bowl of chili. He thanked them and assured them that he was not ill, just didn’t feel up to being out and about.
No one could prove anything, but you know those volunteer firemen I mentioned? Well every one of them who responded to that fire that night had their trucks or cars bombed with rotten eggs, paint balls, and shrimp heads and fish heads in their hubcaps. Two of them had sugar in their gas tanks. Some of them had potatoes stuffed in their tailpipes, and some had some of that nasty burned wet grass poured into the reservoir for their water to wash their windshields.
Mr. Atkins had a flat tire on his truck twice, two different tires, and he had one tire on his boat trailer that kept going flat. No one could prove a thing but everyone thought for sure it was that cranky old man.
One day Mr. Atkins was going fishing, so he checked everything the day before to make sure it was all in working order. He called a friend of his and told him everything was set and he would pick him up at 4:00 a.m. the next morning.
Everything looked okay so off they went. He launched his boat then parked his truck and they headed for their favorite spot. They were about 5 miles out when the motor began to sputter and then stopped.
　
　
Mr. Atkins tried several things and his friend, Bill, said maybe it is out of gas. “Impossible,” said Mr. Atkins. “I made sure it was ready to go.” Another 20 minutes of trying different things and Bill suggested checking the tanks. Just as he thought, Bill found the tank was empty. “How could that be?!” yelled Mr. Atkins. “I filled that tank up yesterday!” He reached for the spare tank, which he had also filled, and he could tell when he went to move it that it was empty as well. He looked at Bill in disbelief. Bill said, “Guess we’re paddling, old boy.” Wrong! No paddles were in the boat. Mr. Atkins was outraged!
“Well, Tom. We came to fish, so let’s fish until another boat comes along and we can get some help.”
Without even looking, Mr. Atkins knew there would be no fishing gear. He was right. Everything was gone. No poles, no lines, no lures. Nothing! Just an empty tackle box.
A boat came along in about an hour, and he gave them some gas and they were able to get back to the landing. When they returned home, Mr. Atkins called the police. Nothing they could do he was told because as usual, they could prove nothing.
Two days later, with the boat ready to go, another trip was planned. This time, Tom Atkins got up and checked his gas tank and the extra one to make sure they were full. They were.
As mysteriously as they had vanished, his lures, twine and poles were back in his boat, so everything was ready to go.
An uneasy feeling stayed with him as he drove over to pick up Bill, and once he did, he conveyed his apprehensiveness to him. Bill told him to relax and enjoy his day. He was sure nothing would happen today.
They launched the boat and the motor started on the first turn. They traveled about 5 minutes when the motor made a terrible sound and then burned up!
“I knew it!” screamed Mr. Atkins. “CUMMINGS! You horrible miserable old coot! I knew you would do something!”
Bill sat there shaking his head, finding it hard to believe that this tiny little old man could be so sinister and evil.
Mr. Atkins put in a 911 call and the Coast Guard sent a boat to tow them in.
An investigation was launched, but no prints other than Bill’s and Tom’s were found anywhere in or on the boat or the motor or the gas tanks. What they did find was regular gasoline in the tanks. The motor on Tom’s boat had to have an oil/gas mix.
Once again, Mr. Atkins knew what the old coot had done, but he couldn’t prove it. All of the gas he had in his tanks had been switched. There was no oil in any of it. Tom just had a burned up motor. End of story.
The End