Archive of Our Own ^beta

Finished serving the seated boarders a light breakfast that none of them were going to touch, not even Oskar, Arnold pulled the chair at his grandmother's usual spot out with his foot to help her be seated. After pushing Gertie in with his free hand, Arnold placed a full plate down at her spot and sat at his own place, encouraging her to eat before the food got cold.

With a warm gaze, Arnold gently rubbed his grandmother's slumped shoulder to comfort her, and as she looked to the side with a fond, but tired smile, the old woman placed her chilled bony, wrinkled hand on his and patted it lovingly.

At a loss as to how to comfort his grandmother through the hard coming days, Arnold felt it was endearing that grandma was wearing something relatively appropriate for the occasion. When he first saw her that morning, Arnold had been worried with her shockingly sensible costume of a conservative black dress, but as the morning wore on, he was relieved to find that she had at least finished her ensemble with a gold, red velvet trimmed crown complete with scepter. However, despite the fact that Gertrude had been singing a medley of show tunes from the play Rats off and on for the past few hours, her overall mood had been relatively somber compared to her usual carefree expressions of glee.

As Arnold simmered in thought, and felt a little overwhelmed, his grieving grandmother heaved out a sad sigh. Gertie dabbed tears from her eyes with the corner of her starched white napkin, and said thoughtfully to her grandson, as she looked at the calendar nailed onto the wall, "Well, Kimba, the poor old cowpoke almost made it, didn't he?"

Arnold laced his fingers in Gertie's and tried to comfort her as best he could, "I know, Grandma, but we have to remember the good times we had with Grandpa and try to honor his memory because that‘s what he‘d want us to do."

Arnold's voice abruptly stopped as footsteps slowly shuffled in the hallway, coming closer to towards the dining room. In turn, everyone seated at the table shared quizzical looks as Phil emerged in the doorway, walked over to the table, sat down at his spot, looking out across it at the people he knew, and loved, even though most of them annoyed him.

In curiosity, Phil Shortman watched Susie's eyes widen in surprised fear, and Ernie Potts clutch the sledgehammer he called "the old equalizer" tightly in his hands with his wide yellow eyes.

Further puzzled, the old man looked upwards in time to see the shadow of Mr. Smith hurriedly retreating down the steps of the boarding house from the window, and didn’t even bother tipping his hat to the pets of the Sunset Arms as he was in the habit of.

Mr. Hyunh did a double take, Susie was staring at him like someone had cut off her eyelids, but the kicker, Oskar, who was usually greedy, picked at his food in disinterest, when normally in that same space of time, would be asking for a fourth helping.

Phil studied his wife, and as Pookie lifted her glasses, rubbed them on the hem of her black dress, she leaned to the side squinting, almost touching her nose with his. Lastly, Phil caught sight of his grandson's head, which was shaking back and forth, his face decorated with disbelief.

As Phil studied the reactions of his family, and acquaintances, he warily patted the empty spot at the long boarding house table and stiffly scooted himself in. He took a neatly folded white cloth napkin from Ernie’s spot since he wasn’t using it, and smartly snapped it to the side to tuck down into his shirt to keep his suit clean, taking special care not to disturb the fresh white carnation in the buttonhole of his lapel.

Since the silence was deafening, Phil asked his usually thoughtful grandson in confusion as he looked out over everyone's stacks of fluffy brown pancakes covered in syrup, begging to be eaten, but left untouched, "Now just where is my breakfast this morning, Shortman?"

Arnold asked incredulously, "Grandpa, you-you're not seriously going to eat are you?"

Phil shook his head in ire as he snatched the sports section away from Mr. Potts' outstretched hand while he spat, "Awww, look at that! You got it all folded open, dadjimmit it! I hate it when ya' do that!" Phil accentuated his distaste by rolling the paper lengthwise and giving Ernie a smart swat with it that made him make a comment about Phil being touchy. Soon enough the construction laborer was getting up to leave, all the while mumbling something about needing to get to work, and oddly enough, zombies.

Wholly satisfied that for once Ernie had let him have the last word in a way, Phil’s attention turned to his attention odd acting grandson. "Why in the world wouldn't I want to eat any breakfast?" Phil astutely informed, "I eat breakfast every day." With a fond lilt, Phil ended, "Just like I told you ever since you were little, Shortman, it's the most important meal of the day, you know."

Arnold's face turned a little pale as he announced slowly, "Because, Grandpa, you're,"

The mature teenager response, always tactful, was beaten by Mr. Hyunh who asked with less diplomacy, “Are you a ghost, Grandpa?”

Phil shook his head, and was irritated when he said, "Of all the days I come down here, and actually understand half a mouthful of what you have to say, Huynh, it's this malarkey! Why in the world do you ask if I'm a ghost?"

Oskar added tactlessly, easily outdoing Mr. Hyunh, "Because you're stone-cold dead, Grandpa!"

"As a doornail!" Gertie chirped with gleeful authority as she pushed up the gold and red velvet crown more securely onto her head and touched the top of her husband's knotty bald head with her bejeweled scepter while letting loose one of her wild cackles.

Phil pushed the scepter away with great annoyance, rolled his eyes, looked at Arnold, Gertie, and examined the three remaining boarders, Oskar who was both deliberating on leaving, but at the same time eying Ernie's abandoned breakfast, Mr. Hyunh, who was simply staring at him, and Susie who was for some reason, extremely pale.

Phil chuckled, “I know I took one of my bad turns last night because I was nervous about my ninety first birthday and all, but hey, I’m still here aren‘t I!” Phil added with a jocular tone, "In fact, I think this calls for a big celebration, because I beat the stuffing right out of the Shortman family curse! I lived to be ninety-one!"

Oskar, over his initial shock at the situation, cut a four layered triangular shaped section out of his stack of pancakes, impaled it on a fork, and then shoved the mass of food into his mouth as he mumbled, "I agree, Grandpa, in fact, we should have your big celebration at the funeral home! Ahehehehee!" More seriously, Oskar added, "By the way, since you don't need it anymore, can I have the Packard, Grandpa?" As he hummed and chewed, Oskar sensibly reckoned, “It will be easier for me to get down to the dog track, the bus driver won’t stop here anymore because he hates me.”

“I can understand why!” Phil threw the rolled paper at Oskar's head and yelled venomously, "As far as the Packard goes, over my dead body, Kokoshka!"

Oskar said, "Precisely! So can I have it?"

Mr. Hyunh shook his head and pointed towards his ex-landlord, "Show the grumpy old dead man some respect!"

Phil, who wished he had Ernie's sledgehammer in hand, yelled at Oskar and Mr. Hyunh in indignation, "I don’t know what the two of you are trying to pull, but this joke isn't funny anymore, and I'm not dead, dang all of ya'!" Phil glanced to the other side of the table and gave Arnold a funny look. "Are you sick, Boy, why aren't you at school?" Phil scratched his head, "It's not a holiday is it?"

Before Arnold could answer, Gertie whipped up a red ukulele from under the table and began to sing in a discordant tone while plucking the un-tuned instrument, "Oh, he died in the saddle, he went and bought the farm, and then we tanned his old hide, and nailed it to the barn!"

The old man put his hand on his wrinkled face, and for some odd reason, it stuck. "Must you sing at this hour, Pookie?"

"That's Calamity Pookie to you, Cowpoke," The questionably sane woman got up and motioned with her arm in a 'come on' motion, "Now git up, Slim, we need to find a pine box, and a nice quilt to put in the bottom of it before you start drawin' th'buzzards t'camp!"

Phil sighed, and massaged his temples in frustration, "Confound it I keep tellin' all of you that I'm not dead!" Phil yanked the napkin from the top of his nicest dress shirt, and threw it down onto the table with no small amount of irritation, "How in the world could I be sitting here with all of ya', arguin‘, starvin' ta' death, and wantin' t'eat my breakfast that isn't here if I was dead?"

Gertie, in a lucid moment, shook her finger and pronounced, "I guess because as usual, you're too dang blasted stubborn to listen to any reason, you ornery old goat!"

Phil rolled his eyes and dropped back down in his chair, "Oh, ho, that's a nice 'un!" He added incredulously as Arnold regarded his grandfather's yellowing face, and dark circled eyes as he pointed at his grandmother in indictment, "Now that's the pot callin' the kettle black for sure, ya’ crazy old bird!"

Gertie bared her claws and hissed like one of the numerous black stray cats she liked to gather on Fridays that landed on the thirteenth of whatever month before her hips gave out, then sliced her thin hand through the air. “I know karate!”

With a grave warning, Phil added, "Back off, Pookie, not in the mood."

Gertie, taking on a serious tone for the once in a great while of her life, said convincingly, "I know this is hard for you, Phil, and I don't understand what's happened, but all that I do know is that you passed on last night."

With that, the old man eyed Gertie and Arnold's stack of pancakes, with a sarcastic lilt, and a vigorous rubbing together of his hands, Phil said, "The only thing that I know is that I'm hungry enough to eat Glueboy!" Mr. Hyunh's upper lip twitched to one side making his moustache look funny, as Phil added pointing at his grandson's breakfast. "If you're not gonna' eat but look at me like I've got your girlfriend's ugly, scaly, fork tongued luggage cover pet lizard crawling out of my ears, Arnold, then pass me your pancakes, because I'm starving’ t’death!" Arnold hurriedly passed Phil his plate of food, and Gertie responded with hers in kind.

Mr. Hyunh cleared his throat, got up, nervously tied on an apron that read, El Patio, and then placed a hat on his head with an announcement. "I'm going to work now," The concerned man glanced towards Arnold, "If you need anything, you call, okay?"

Phil raised his finger, "While you’re at it, remember to bring me a taco home!" He added cautiously, "Made by you, Hyunh, and not that idiot Rockwell." Phil added, flinging up his arms, "First he puts the cheese, then the lettuce, then tomatoes, and then the meat; it’s crazy!" Mr. Huynh left hurriedly not saying a word as Phil pulled both his grandson and wife's plates of food towards him and announced pointing his cold thin bluing index finger at everyone in attendance in accusation. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the whole lot of you,” The shriveled looking old man stabbed a stack of hotcakes on one of the plates with spite as he added, “but by jiminy, I’m going to fill my belly!” As Gertie, Arnold, Susie, and Oskar shared stunned looks; Phil ate shaking his head, as everyone covered their faces in disgust. Phil looked at Susie, "I thought you had to go to work now."

Susie shook her head, "I called in for a personal day this morning, because you passed away last night."

Phil looked at the clock on the wall, and said with a sarcastic lilt, "Well you wasted your breath on that one, didn't you, seein' as I'm alive and kickin'!"

"Yeah!" Oskar mumbled with his mouth full of food, pieces flying out all the while, "The bucket."

The old man looked up from his food cutting a look at the annoying Czechoslovakian, "If you weren't married to Susie, I'd call immigration to come and take you away right now!" As Oskar cut his landlord a look, Phil then addressed Oskar's long-suffering wife, "If you want to duck out of work, Susie, don't be lying to your boss, and using me as an excuse to do it!"

Susie shook her head as all the others nodded in agreement, “I swear to you God as my witness, Phil, you passed away in your sleep last night. Doctor Stieglitz came over and officially pronounced you dead!"

Arnold nodded as he remarked about the kindly old physician, "He was greatly upset by your passing, Grandpa, in fact, he was so upset that I had to drive him back to his office in his car." Arnold verified, "He actually cried."

Oskar laughed and pointed at Arnold, "A-heh-heh! He was upset alright, Arnold, so upset that you went over to his office, and bothered his poker game because he was winning; and then crying because the old man was already dead when he got here!" Arnold shot Oskar a dirty look and he asked, "What?"

"HAH!" Phil vomited from the core of his soul as he pointed at Oskar with a bluing finger, "That stinkin' no goodnik is probably right!" Oskar had a satisfied look on his face as the irate man remarked hatefully after he slapped his hand on the table, then pointed at his grandson. "Doctor," Phil said sarcastically, "Murray Stieglitz was probably cryin', because he knew that I wouldn't pay the overcharged medical bill he left here because I'm not really dead, confound it!" The man winked, and motioned his arm and hand in a drinking motion, "I bet he had a bit too much of his 'medicine' during his poker game before he came over here to ruin my birthday, and pronounce me dead, the lying old fossil!"

Gertie shook her head negatively, "Phil, he felt your pulse, and there wasn't one, you really did die," Gertie waved her scepter, "Don't you remember?"

"My mind is as sharp as a tack, and not one bit of it includes the memory of me a’dyin’ last night!" Phil let out a small laugh, then spat stubbornly as he waved his hand in the air, "If that foolish old quack you all dragged over here last night can't tell the difference between a stiff and a living person, he shouldn't be practicin' medicine at all!" Phil swallowed, and pointed his finger with certainty, "Come to think of it, Murray's several years older than I am," With a twisted chortle, Phil added, "Maybe you should bring him back over here, and tell him he's dead too!" The thoughtful man added with ire, "Hard telling how many people he's pulled that on!"

Arnold asked incredulously, "Pulled what on, Grandpa?"

Phil added with an air of authority, "Tellin' people they were dead, then havin' them pay his ridiculous doctor’s house call bill being none the wiser that they were alive!" Phil ranted, "What's the world comin' to when a doctor tells people they're dead just to make a few extra bucks? Never would have pegged Murray Stieglitz as a crook I tell you," Phil said with a mumble dishing another bite of food into his mouth.

Arnold shook his head, "But, Grandpa,"

"But nothin'!" Phil said with irritation as he raised his voice and crammed another mouthful of pancakes in his already over-full maw. "I don't want to hear another word about me bein' dead, period!" Everyone looked at Phil strangely at his logic he mumbled something about everyone in the house having lost their minds as he tried to raise his thin stiff arm to point at the clock. Phil was only able to get it halfway up as he returned to his original train of thought. “If you hustle, Susie, you can maybe get to Budnick’s before you’re late,” He prudently added in a mocking tone, “But if you don’t get there on time, make sure that you don’t tell ‘em that you were late because you were talking to a dead man!”

Susie and certainly no one else at the table said anything as Phil dug back into both Arnold and Gertie’s breakfasts, eating with greedy relish.

Soon Phil finished eating and he got up from the table with a nod. "Well, I must say that those were some mighty fine flapjacks, Pookie, Arnold." Everyone just stared at the full fellow as he stretched, and scratched his sides with a yawn, "I think I'm going to go sit out back and take myself a little nap." Phil studied Oskar snaking his hand over towards another plate with half a stack of pancakes on it, and admonished shaking his index finger, "Don't touch them flapjacks!" Oskar drew back his greedy hands with a scowl as Phil stiffly walked away, and yelled out with a laugh, "Hey, Arnold, will you open the garage door so I can sit in front of the Packard and look at her headlights?"

As Arnold rolled his eyes at innuendo that no man over the age of forty should use, much less a dead one, Gertie cut her eyes towards the wall with irritation and flared nostrils and into the next room where her husband was slowly shuffling as Susie put her head in her hands.

As the squeaking back door opened, everyone heard, "Well! Hello, Abner!" Followed by a squealing noise that was frightened sounding as his grandfather admonished, "Oh, to be young, pink, and in a hurry. Never a dull moment, Arnold, never a dull moment."

Arnold studied his grandmother seeking to console her because he knew she was bound to be upset, but as he watched Gertie try in vain to make a model of Winchester Cathedral while whistling the tune with two and a half pancakes, a napkin, four spoons, and an antique hatpin, he figured that his grandmother was doing pretty well under the circumstances.

Arnold sighed, and for the life of him could not find one redeeming quality or silver lining in the situation as he looked up at Susie as she got up. With a shrug he asked, "There's not much that you can do here to help, are you going to go to work?"

Susie got an incredulous look on her face as Gertie shed her crown and scepter in lieu of another favored costume, and then picked up a ratted, nearly worn out fly swatter as she slowly ambled out the back door. "I," Susie was tempted to go to work as she pointed out of the door incredulously as Oskar ate and hummed in the outside kitchen doorway fanning flies away from him in annoyance. Susie finally forcefully whispered, “No, Arnold, just keep things under control here, and an eye on your grandfather to make sure he doesn‘t leave the yard. I-I'm going to go get Doctor Stieglitz, I'll be back!" With that, Susie scrambled away out the back door, and towards the bus stop.

Arnold sighed, and walked over to the window, and when he saw Phil seated in the driveway gazing at the four-wheeled love of his life as his devoted wife sat beside him, he picked up his cellular phone, and dialed a familiar number to leave a message.

The early morning sun was bearing down on his grandparents, and as Arnold walked outside, he watched his grandmother, who was wearing a pith helmet on her head, brandish a fly swatter like a rapier, trying in vain to kill the numerous insects that were swarming around Phil's head.

Phil looked up at Arnold as his forehead wrinkled, he observed, "Confounded fly season is early this year, isn't it, Shortman?"

As Arnold grimaced, and Phil waved his pale, free hand in front of his yellow face, and bluing nose, Gertie made a forceful downwards motion with the swatter, missed a fly; and mildly cursed, "Nurtz!"

Phil fanned himself with his hand, and stated, "Whoo! It's hot! I like to have died from the heat yesterday!"

Gertie slashed at a fly and said in fact, "You did die, Phil!"

Phil circled his index finger next to his ear and eyed Gertie while looking at his grandson, then jokingly elbowed Arnold with his arm and asked, "Where in the world did Susie take off to in such an all fired hurry a little while ago? She hauled her patoot out of here like a possum with a lit firecracker in its rear end!"

Arnold shrugged, "She went see Doctor Stieglitz."

Phil nodded solemnly, "Good thing too, because it's plenty obvious that she ain't right in her mind today."

Arnold's eyes turned to the side, "No, Grandpa, she went for you."

Phil shook his head in ire, "Oh, for cripes sakes why did she go and do that?" Phil studied Arnold warily, and exasperated, Phil theorized, “Now Stieglitz is gonna’ try to saddle me with another house call bill.” Phil resolutely promised, “I can tell you one thing right now too, I ain’t payin’ that one either, because I’m fit as a fiddle, and there's nothing wrong with me!"

Arnold tried to reason with his grandfather, "Yes, there is, Grandpa."

Phil closed his eyes, and then sighed, "What, Shortman, what's wrong with me?"

"Grandpa, I know you’re tired of hearing it, and I'm sorry, but, you really are dead." Arnold said with sympathy.

“Fiddlesticks!” Phil raised his arm and index finger, "Now don't you start up on me, Shortman!" Gertie looked up at Arnold and rolled her eyes as Phil informed, "I'm not dead, blast it!"

"Through here, he's right out here!" Arnold looked upwards at the kitchen window with relief when he heard Susie dragging an arguing man through the house, towards the kitchen, and to the door. "I'm not making this up!"

"I keep telling you that this is no time for a joke young lady, and I'm missing my tee time at the golf course!" With an assured voice, the man said, "There's no way that, " Dr. Stieglitz said in frustration as he took one step out the door, and saw Phil sitting in a chair with his head hung down low. The doctor, obviously confused asked in a shocked manner, "Why hasn't the funeral home conducting the dispensation of your affairs come to collect the remains yet?"

As Dr. Stieglitz walked down the steps and towards Phil, Gertie took aim at another fly that had lit upon Phil's body; this one was crawling across his head, and had stopped to rub its legs together. Gertie's hand fell, and this time the results were a squashed bug, a tiny checkerboard pattern left upon Phil's pale head, and a brownish black smear.

“Well look at who’s usin’ two-dollar words now!” Dr. Stieglitz jumped backwards, almost tumbling to the hard grey concrete driveway when Phil's eyes opened, and he yanked the flyswatter away from his wife with the admonishment of, "And the reason why no one’s come to aid with the dispensation my remains, is because there aren't any remains to dispense with, You silly old coot!"

As he smeared the remains of the dead, smashed fly off the top of his warm head, and studied them with a disgusted face as he rolled the paste between his fingers, finally flicking it away, Phil asked, "Where are you going dressed in that God awful lookin' getup?" With a wicked grin, Phil wondered, "Circus?"

Doctor Stieglitz's eyes bulged past his white eyebrows, and he covered his mouth with his hand. Incredulously he wondered, "How can this be?" In confusion, the doctor asked, "Phil, what are you doing here like this?"

"Like what? I‘m like this everyday!" Phil wondered as he looked up at his friend to the side, "Can't a man sit outside in his own backyard in peace?" Phil pointed at the shiny silver grille of his car that glinted in the sunlight like a rare jewel. The prideful man asked with a wide grin, "Ain't she a beaut, Murray?"

Doctor Stieglitz shook his head, and pointed away from himself, "Resting in peace is what you should be doing right now, Phil! When I examined you last night you were deader than the Hillwood High Figs football team winning stats!"

Arnold cut the doctor half a look because he was on the team, as Phil growled, "When you were over here last night, you had a big snootful of your cheap rotgut too, and you couldn't think straight!"

Phil rolled his eyes at everyone in attendance, and their pointed silence. In frustration the grouchy man yelled, "Well don't just stand there lookin' all stupefied, and lettin' the flies crawl in yer mouth, Stieglitz!" Dr. Stieglitz’s mouth clamped shut, and Phil balled his fists and shook his arms up and down. "The sooner you examine me, the sooner this whole dang blasted stupid mess will be over with!"

Doctor Stieglitz cautiously approached Phil with his stethoscope hung around his neck, as he took it off, and placed the clear rubber tipped listening pieces into his ears. After adjusting those, the learned doctor placed the smooth flat end for sound registry carefully around Phil's chest in different places, listening first for a heartbeat, then in shock, for any sound at all. In a mystified, quasi-cautious tone, Doctor Stieglitz announced as Susie, Arnold, and Gertie breathlessly waited for his answer, and the old physician finally determined, "I couldn't hear a thing."

Phil said with consternation, fiddling with his wilting carnation bloom, "Well what in blue tarnation did you expect to hear in there, Murray?" Incredulously the stubborn old man asked, "Dino Spumoni and the Silktones?" Phil smiled and dismissed with a shrug, "I'm ninety-one years old now; of course my heart is going to slow a little bit."

"Your heart isn't slow, Phil." Nervously, Murray took the listening branches out of his ears and folded the stethoscope into his pocket with his shaking hands. Stuttering, the shocked, yet frightened man said, "What would you say if I told you that your heart is no longer b-b-beating?"

Sarcastically, Phil replied as he pointed towards Murray's multi-colored checked golf pants, "What if I were to tell you that thing stuck down into them tacky golf britches you're blinding everyone with is b-b-busted?"

The doctor took out a small mirror and held it under Phil's nose, then looked at it, "See? There's no fog on it, Phil doesn't have a breath left in his body."

Phil moved his shriveled hand to the side to emphasize his point, "Try it on yourself, Murray," With a scowl, Phil informed with a poke into the doctor's chest, "That breath of yours could burn a hole clean through the Packard."

"This is no time for your usual nonsense, Phil!" Doctor Stieglitz blew a hard breath out of his nose and held out a piece of paper in front of Phil, "Can you read this?"

Phil scowled, "Of course I can read it! I got my sixth grade diploma didn't I?"

"Well then you'll be able to see that this is your death certificate that I signed last night!" Phil made a face, and then looked down at the signed line that his friend was pointing at in proof. "See this? The cause of death written down here is cardiac arrest, which means you died of a heart attack!" Murray almost yelled as Phil rejected everything that his friend said with a wave of the hand, “This paper is a legal document, will attest to your state of death, and will stand up in any court of law.”

Phil got up out of his lawn chair stiffly, and said belligerently, "Well so will I, dang blast it! Who do you think everyone's gonna' believe? Your puny piddlin’ piece of paper, Murray, or the sight of me yellin‘ you’re crazy as a mouse in a tin toilet in court?”

Doctor Stieglitz grimaced and backed away from the bluing tip of his friend's nose and moving black lips. After taking an earnest glance around at everyone, then loosening his tie, he announced, "I-I think I'm going to go back to my office, and lie down or something, I'm not feeling well."

As Murray hurried away urgently, Phil called after, "Don't lie down for too long, Doc, somebody might come along, get a wild hair, and sign a piece of paper sayin' that you're dead too!" Phil crossed his arms indignantly and nodded his head downwards in vindication.

With a sigh that was a mixture of defeat mingled with resignation he flung up his arms with frustration and walked into the house, reaching into his back pocket his phone, checking for a message, a missed call, some sort of lifeline. 

An hour later, the doorbell rang, Arnold opened the front door, and a welcome sight greeted his weary eyes, relief flooding him as he exclaimed, "Oh, God, I'm so glad you're here!" The young man rushed forward holding his arms out, tumbling into the embrace of a young blonde woman tightly wrapping them around her seeking respite from the insane turn of events.

With his head buried in her shoulder and neck, Helga patted Arnold's back as she was folded in his hug and tried to comfort her grieving boyfriend the best she knew how. "Oh, Arnold I'm so sorry about your grandfather!" She released the embrace and gazed into Arnold's eyes as she gently caressed his cheek, searching his eyes as hers began to flood knowing the pain he was in. "I got your text, and I would have been here much sooner, but I had to wait for a good time to sneak out of school." As she was about to say something more to assuage her boyfriend's grief, Helga looked over Arnold's shoulder, and to her surprise, saw Phil lifting the last mouthful of a sandwich up to his lips, and push it into his mouth. The irascible girl asked, "What in the hell is this?"

"Hey there!" Phil wiped his mouth and leaned back in his chair to get a better look at their visitor. "I thought I heard the dulcet tones of Helga Geraldine Pataki wreckin' the peace and sanctity of my house." With a look, Phil wondered, "Aren't you supposed to be in school today too?"

Helga's face turned sour, and as she glowered at Arnold, the angry girl slapped his arm rather hard. As Arnold rubbed it to make the sting go away, he asked with irritation, "What'd you do that for?"

More than perturbed, Helga hissed, "I thought you said he had died!" The irate girl pointed her finger out the door in the general direction of Hillwood High, "I cut afternoon classes for a bad joke?" Unable to be angry with him, Helga lightly chucked his shoulder, “I didn’t know you had it in you, and at least I didn’t have to go to gym.”

Arnold said seriously, through his clenched teeth, "He did die!" With a whisper and raised eyebrows, he ran his hand through his hair, "Last night."

"Well, he seems awfully animated now." Helga said in an irritated, matter of fact tone.

Phil, who was hanging on every word of the interaction declared, "I'm sittin' right here, you know." After two tries, Phil got up stiffly from his seat at the table and said with a swipe of his mouth with the same soiled napkin he used at breakfast, "Well that was a mighty fine lunch, Pookie, if I do say so myself." Everyone in attendance simply stared at Phil, as he addressed them. "I don't understand why the rest of you except for Oskar aren't eating anything."

As Gertie began clearing dishes, Oskar was trying to take what uneaten food was on them for himself, hindered by slaps of Gertie’s hand. As Oskar sucked his fingers and glared at Gertie, Phil announced, "I'm going to go out back again, it's time for a little snooze." As Phil moved from the shadows of the dining room, into the better sunlit area of the foyer, Helga was finally able to see the yellowing of Arnold's grandfather's face, his blue lips, and the bubbled skin that was threatening to loosen from the exposed portions of Phil’s body, most notably his face.

Shocked by Helga's gaping mouth and unusual silence, Phil queried, "So, how are you today, Bernard Flotsam, rich antique and art collector?" Decomposing or not, the blonde's fiery eyes darkly narrowed towards Phil as he asked with perverted glee, "You here to make a date with the Shortman, Cecile, to get your locket back, the little pink book, fix the kitchen ceiling, or to kill your daddy’s poetic parrot?"

Helga, who was never fond of Phil's ability to recall every event that forced her into the Shortman house clandestinely until she and Arnold started dating junior year, couldn’t for the life of her think of one of her usual smartass retorts for the old man. Instead, all Helga had to offer was wide-open eyes, a wide-open mouth, and uncharacteristic silence as the wisecracking corpse loped over to her in a lopsided, unsteady wobble.

Phil said with humor, "Boy, I tell you what! I thought I'd never see the day that something would fix it so a jackass stubborn Pataki would be at a loss for words." Phil raised his hands towards the ceiling, and laughed, "Hallelujah, Jesus, it's a miracle!" As an afterthought, Phil asked with a naughty wink elbowing his grandson, "Are you sure you want to get mixed up with the likes of that, Shortman?" Phil observed, “She is beautiful, but she’s not firing on all cylinders if you catch my drift.”

Arnold put his head in his hand, “Grandpa!”

Helga's eyes followed Phil out the door, with her nostrils flared wide, but he simply disregarded her anger, and pushed past both of the teenagers to leave through the back door. Before stepping out, he turned, and yelled towards the dining room, "Don't make too much racket with that blasted saxamajigger you can't play worth a sunny toot, Oskar!"

In the background Arnold heard Susie say, "Good luck, I-I'm going to work."

Watching Phil seat himself back into the lawn chair next to the brown painted wooden fence, Helga narrowed her eyes to hot blue slits, and muttered under her breath to Arnold, "If that rotten old fart isn't dead yet, I'll take care of it for you," With consternation, she added in a promising tone, "Like right now."

"Helga!" Arnold scolded, but knowing that her threats of violence were false, he apologized dejectedly, "I'm sorry, there's nothing more you can do to help, so why don't you just go on back to school?”

The dutiful, loyal young woman pointed outside behind her back with her thumb and stated in aggravation while rolling her eyes upwards. "You don't think I'm actually going to leave you and your grandmother to deal with this crazy crap ALONE do you, Football Head?" Helga pointed outside the open kitchen door at the scene Phil swatting the growing swarms of flies hovering around his quickly deteriorating body. "I'm here until whenever, what can I do to help?"

Arnold shook his head, "I don't know."

After hugging Gertie and telling her that everything would be okay, even though she wasn't so sure, Helga helped Arnold, and his grandmother take the plates from lunch to the kitchen. During the process, Helga sniffed in the unused portions of glasses of milk, and food with a disgusted grimace, asking irreverently, "Criminy, what reeks like cheese and ass?"

Gertie shook her head, and announced lowly, while motioning towards the backyard with her head incriminating her rotting husband as the source of the noxious odor. "Nothin' I've cooked, Eleanor."

As Arnold made a face, and Gertie looked downwards, the more practical girl said truthfully, "Look, I know you all love Phil," Gertie and Arnold both had funny looks on their face when Helga added, "I do too," She flung up her arms, "but something's got to be done about him!” The clueless young woman twirled her hands in confusion, "Why is he like this?"

Arnold shook his head, "He refuses to believe that he's dead." With that, the young man's shoulders slumped, and as he sighed in frustration, Helga put her arm around him as they walked towards the door to go outside.

"Grandpa?" Arnold asked with hope as Phil seemed to be slumped down finally having given up and finally died a second time with Helga looking on from behind him.

Before Helga had a chance to poke the old man with a stick she had found in the yard, the kids turned to look behind themselves as a voice registered. "Arnold Shortman, is that you?" The young man looked up, and the familiar friendly face of Rabbi Goldberg was peering at Arnold as he addressed him.

"Yes sir." Arnold answered.

As the Rabbi leaned closer to Phil, he asked, "Is he?"

Arnold shrugged as Rabbi Goldberg poked Phil with his finger, "I don't know we just came out and,"

Rabbi Goldberg shook his head and let out a small laugh, "Well of course he is! I tell you what, that Murray Stieglitz had the strangest sense of humor I’ve ever seen in my life! Why I remember one time when we went fishing, he,"

The religious man stumbled backwards when a red, bloodshot eye greeted his gaze. "Well, look what the cat dragged in!" Phil grinned, his yellow teeth and black gums unsettling as the religious man almost fell backwards. "Rabbi Goldberg!"

Gertie walked outside as the Rabbi looked at Phil in non-belief, "We've been telling him he's dead all day, but he won't listen to anyone."

Phil countered, "I'm not dead!"

Phil smiled at the expression on Goldberg's face, and observed, "Boy I don't blame you that look you have plastered on your face, nobody listens to what I say either.” Phil dismissed, “I guess you‘re used to it because you‘re a religious man." With a change in subject, Phil added, "It's hotter than blazes out here, isn't it?" Phil nodded towards Gertie and asked politely, "Why don't you go inside, Pookie, and get the Rabbi some refreshment?" Phil's attention turned to the Rabbi. "A nice cool glass of lemonade is just the thing for heat like this, sounds good, doesn't it, Rabbi?" Unable to respond, the rabbi looked at Gertie as she sighed, and then went inside, while Phil invited, pulling a chair beside him. "Sit down a spell and tell me something good." Glowering, Phil added, “Nobody around here has been.” When Rabbi Goldberg bent down to sit, Phil let out a small cough, and the Rabbi was forced to take off his yarmulke and fan Phil's breath away from his face with his eyes closed, everyone else watching on in morbid curiosity.

"What brings you here today?" Phil wondered as he leaned back in his chair and waved his hand in front of his face to rid himself of the flies that had been finding him attractive all morning.

Rabbi Goldberg cleared his throat, adjusted his tallis, and as he swiped at his sweaty forehead with a bare hand, he spoke haltingly. "This isn't exactly a social call, Phillip, I talked to Murray earlier today, and I had to come see for myself if what he said was true."

With suspicion, Phil asked, "What was it that the fool had to say now?"

The rabbi braced himself for the battle of wills to come. "You've lived a long life, Phil, and when the Lord calls members of his flock home, they have to answer."

Phil shook his head with an interruption, "I haven't heard anyone call, Goldberg, but my hearing isn't what it used to be."

Rabbi Goldberg shook his head, "That must be why you can't hear that your own heart has stopped beating."

"It's like I told Murray, I'm old, and it's slowed." Phil informed.

As the old man laughed, the Rabbi gently said, "Phil, please listen to reason." He comforted, "Now you've lived a good long life, but there comes a time when every man needs to lie down his burdens and be free."

Phil simply said, "Well I did." With a spit to the side, he added, "I'm retired.”

Rabbi Goldberg sighed and became more serious, "You've got no reason to be here now, Phil, and certainly no justification to put up such a fuss. Remember," The man pointed upwards, "The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away."

Phil mimicked the Rabbi's arm movement, "Well the Lord isn't takin' me away anywhere just yet!"

"Look, Phil, I," The Rabbi pushed the old man's still erect arm back down then got up and walked over to the fence trying to think of the right thing to say, only coming up with, "You are the most ornery man I have ever known in my life, Phil Shortman. You sure need a lot of convincing"

Phil added truthfully, "Well, that's just my nature." He shrugged, "I'm not an unreasonable man, but like the pudding, well, I need me some proof."

The Rabbi sighed, "You have nothing to be afraid of in passing on, Phil, you are on the threshold of paradise!" Phil looked in the direction of Rabbi Goldberg's grandiose gesture. "You'll see all of your beloved friends, and family again! There will be no more sorrows, no strife, no more suffering, no more cares!" With a smile the Rabbi added, "Not to mention being out of this roasting hot sun."

Phil nodded, "You do look like a chicken boiling in a pot, Rabbi!" Phil leaned his head back, and yelled towards the kitchen window as Goldberg grimaced, "POOKIE! WHERE'S THAT LEMONADE AT?"

The Rabbi shook his head and moved to Phil's other side, "Now, I know that lying in a cold grave doesn't hold a great deal of appeal for you, Phil, but that will just be your body." The Rabbi's voice got higher as he became more excited, "Your soul will be in the light and airy reaches in heaven on high flying with the angels in the clouds and singing praises to the lord for an eternity!"

Phil looked to the side and addressed the religious man sarcastically. "If you think heaven is so all fired wonderful, go buy a plane ticket, and fly there yourself, Goldberg!" Noticing the nearly rabid religious fervor the Rabbi had gotten himself worked into, Phil called out, "Pookie, where are you? The rabbi has lathered hisself into a mix of the vapors, and a pepeleptic fit!"

Helga ran out of the house with a bottle and said with regret, "I'm sorry, Rabbi Goldberg, there wasn’t any lemonade left; all we could find was this bottle of mint liqueur."

"Thank God!" The Rabbi said with uncomfortable haste as he unscrewed the bottle, took several long, loud, gulping drinks of the thick, alcoholic liquid, and groaned at the burning sensation he felt as it rolled down his throat, and slithered into his turning stomach.

As Arnold, Gertie and Helga looked on, the Rabbi grimly turned to face Phil as he handed Helga the bottle of cheap alcohol back, and he addressed the deceased man firmly, "Look here, Phil, you don't have any right in refusing the table that the Lord has set out for you in heaven!" He adjusted his yarmulke and pointed his finger downwards, "As God's messenger for Hillwood City, I can tell you one thing for certain, Phil Shortman, that if you keep this up, you'll be going somewhere that isn't near as nice as heaven."

Phil shook his head, "I'm not hard of hearing, Goldberg," With quiet frustration the stubborn man added, "I'm just tired of hearing."

As Gertie walked back into the house, the Rabbi put his arms around Arnold and Helga. “You two are fine young people, but I need to get back to the Temple and tend my flock.” Rabbi Goldberg turned to leave, but before stepping down the driveway, he turned one last time, gingerly yanked the bottle of liqueur from Helga's hands, nodded in thanks, and then ran away.

Phil slapped his knee and hooted loudly with a point, "Hee hee! Just look at him a'haulin’ ass!" With a scoff, he observed, "Tending his flock my foot!" With his hand flung upwards, he said, "We ain’t even Jewish, the nosy old poot!"

Arnold gave Helga a double take when she added dryly, with what sounded like a great measure of disappointment, "He took the whole bottle of liquor with him too."

Dejectedly, Arnold sat at the dining room table with his shirttails out of his pants, leaned back in the ladder back chair rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Helga walked into the room and began massaging his shoulders, all the while trying to think of something comforting to say but striking upon nothing useful.

Arnold grasped his hair and tugged at it, asking in a tone that sounded almost hopeless, "What am I going to do, Helga? This can’t keep up, but I can't do anything with him either!"

A flash of inspiration came to Helga. "Madame Blanche!"

"That tarot reader downtown?" Arnold turned asking dejectedly sprinkled with a lilt of hope.

"Yeah!" Helga added with excitement, "She also makes magic potions for love, out of love, luck, and deals with the supernatural crap all of the time," With a re-assuring voice, Helga added optimistically, "It's her business to know how to deal with these type things!"

"The supernatural?" Arnold wondered.

Helga said tactfully, "You're ass deep in it, Head Boy."

"Madame Blanche sells out of love potions?" Arnold wondered dubiously.

Helga shook her head. "Don't ask." She picked up her original thought before Arnold dug any deeper. "I'm sure that Madame Blanche would know what to do to assuage a restless spirit."

Arnold doubted, "I don't know, Helga,"

Helga shrugged and said before Arnold could argue further, "It's worth a shot, Arnoldo, and nothing else we've tried has gotten us anywhere." The caring girl patted Arnold's shoulder, "I'm going to stay here and keep an eye on things, so you go on ahead and see if Madame Blanche can help." Helga said dryly, "Be sure to take plenty of money with you too, ‘cause she's not a charity either."

After a kiss for luck, Arnold ran upstairs, got his wallet, keys, and ran down to the garage to see the mysterious Hillwood City clairvoyant.

Downtown, Arnold opened a door with a purple four-fingered hand on it and stepped inside, a bell rang to announce his presence, but since he could see no one, the respectful boy called out, "Hello?"

As he smelled a rich mingled bouquet of burning incense, he noticed that around him on the walls were racks of multicolored bottles of all shapes and sizes, as well as a table in the center of the room with a green crystal ball, glowing with an eerie light.

Just as Arnold was about to call out again, a tall, olive skinned woman wearing sandals, a skirt, a loose white shirt, and colorful shawl pushed through a beaded curtain greeting, "Hello, Young Man, and what may Madame Blanche do for you today?" The crafty saleswoman went through her spiel, "You wanna' know where to apply to college?" With a wink, she wondered while looking the handsome boy up and down, "Having love problems, or what?" The woman took a seat at the table bearing the crystal ball and waved her hands over it as if she were divining the secrets of the Universe. "How may I bring the spirit world quickly to your aid?"

Arnold took a seat on the other side of the table and begged, "Madame Blanche, my name is Arnold Shortman, and you've just got to help me with my grandfather."

After an abbreviated explanation of everything that transpired over the day, Madame Blanche got a fond smile on her face. "That Phil Shortman always was an ornery old cuss, we go back a long time, and he was dead set in his ways, even then." With that, the tricky woman raised a finger, got up, and turned her back to Arnold, seemingly mixing things from some of the bottles on her shelves. "I believe that I have something here that will help you no problem, so don't worry, Kiddo."

After cinching a small drawstring bag, and an explanation for use, Arnold asked in surprise. "That's it! That's all I have to do?"

Madame Blanche waved a dismissive hand, assuring in complete confidence, "That's it, Toots," Then the woman added quickly, "Oh, and pay me ten bucks, of course."

Arnold smiled, forced ten well-worn dollars into the mystic's hand, hugged her, and then ran out of the store with a newfound hope.

As Madame Blanche opened her glowing green clamshell crystal ball, and as she poked the ten loose dollars into it, she sighed, "Cute kid," Then added, "Crazy as a loon."

Helga placed plates on the dining room table heavily, but when the green front door opened and Arnold walked through it, she put everything down, rushed over and hugged him with the greeting of, "Oh, thank God you're back, Arnold, I was getting so worried!"

Arnold wondered as she slapped his forehead, "Why, what's happened now?"

Helga walked back over to the table, and resumed setting places in an annoyed fashion, pushing her fingers through her golden bangs with a frustrated sigh. "Well, for starters, the funeral home called, and they told me to tell you and your grandma that if you don't hand Phil over to them they're going to call the health department and the police. As it turns out the health department already caught wind of this fiasco because of that nosy tattle tale Rabbi Goldberg." Helga took a deep breath, "THEY just called here too; and they said that if you don't hand over the remains of your grandfather in twenty-four hours, they're going to put the house and everyone dwelling in it under quarantine!"

Gertie put a pitcher of water on the table and added, "The poor old galoot is as stiff as a board too, but he doesn't even seem to notice!"

Helga shook her head in confusion, and flung up her hands in frustration, "The only thing he's been doing since you've been gone is cussing at the flies crawling on him and asking 'what's for dinner'."

Arnold reached into his coat pocket, produced a small black satin drawstring bag, and held it up for Helga to look at. "Madame Blanche said that this would work."

Gertie looked at her well-meaning grandson in horror, "It isn't poison is it?"

Arnold shook his head, "No, of course it isn't poison! How in the world do you poison someone who is already dead, Grandma?"

Helga gently took the bag from Arnold, looked inside, sniffed, and then glanced outside while whispering through angrily gritted teeth, "This is nothing more than black pepper, Paste for Brains! How much did you pay Madame Blanche for this?"

"Ten dollars." The boy admitted.

With frustration, Helga groaned, "That rotten crook's done it again!"

Not even wanting to know the story behind that statement, Arnold shook his head, "No, she promised me that it would work!"

Helga flung up her hands, but didn't argue because she knew it wouldn't help as Gertie nodded at Arnold. After the old woman took Helga by the hand and led the angry girl to the kitchen, Arnold followed Madame Blanche’s plan by getting out a black napkin, then poured the contents of her potion into the folds of it.

"Is that watermelon and miso soup I smell, Pookie?" Phil asked as he slowly walked into the dining room with everyone in attendance. "My favorite!"

Gertie said shaking her index finger in accusation, "It took you long enough to get in here, Slim."

Phil dismissed it with, "I'm just a little bit stiff after my nap is all."

Helga added as she dished out food, and watched Phil seat himself haphazardly, "You shouldn't be eating dinner, Mr. Shortman; you should be six feet under!"

Phil yelled at the top of his voice stiffly shaking his arms with balled fists, shaking petals off the wilted carnation in his lapel, “Cheese and crackers I’m surrounded! How many times do I have to say to all of you that I'm not dead, confound it?" Phil shook his fist to accentuate his point, "I've argued with all of you about this me being dead thing all day until I'm blue in the face, and I'm tired of it!"

Gertrude nodded, "You’ve certainly been blue in the face all day."

"That tears it!" Phil shook his head and began to send his family on a guilt trip. "I never thought I'd see the day when my own friends and family would say I was dead to my face!" With a pitiful look meant to send his family and friend on a guilt trip, the old man ended, "You should all be ashamed of yourselves for saying such and upsetting a war veteran and old man!" When Phil slopped a spilling spoonful of soup into his mouth, a long green strip of nori fell out and hung past his lower lip, clinging to his dark grey chin. Seeking to reason with the people seated at his table, he promised, "I don't want to inconvenience anyone," He sat up straighter at his place and put his spoon down into his steaming bowl. "Now if I was to see proof that I was really and truly dead, well, I'd be the first fellow to admit I was wrong, go upstairs, and lie down forever!"

Either everyone at the table was looking away in disgust, or watching in disgust as Phil continued to eat. Arnold who had been waiting for the right moment said as he pointed at his chin, "Grandpa, you, ah, have a little seaweed right here."

Phil looked down, and then up again, "Thank you, Boy." Arnold scooted forward in his chair in anticipation wondering what was going to happen as Phil took up the napkin by his plate, and snapped it smartly to the side, forcing a cloud of black powder into the air for him to inhale. "What in the blue blazes was that? I," Phil reared his head back and took in a sharp breath, as he did; he held the napkin up to his nose and sneezed forcefully into it.

When the old man lowered the cloth, he stuttered, "Well dang it, w-would you look at that?"

Everyone at the table stared at Phil in surprise as he folded the napkin back own at his place and stated with sadness in his voice, "Well, it appears that there's no fool like an old fool, is there?"

As Phil got up and shuffled out of the room, he addressed Arnold, "Take care of Pookie for me, Shortman." As an afterthought he added, nodding towards the garage, then the young girl seated at the table. "The Packard, and Helga too." With a sad but resolved tone, Phil added, "I love all three of ya' more than you know." Gertie followed Phil upstairs with her hand on his back to both re-assure and urge him on as everyone at the table watched the ending of the incident with sadness in their eyes.

Later in the evening, Arnold was sitting alone at the cleared table with a lit candle, staring into its brightness withn sadness. He should have felt good about fixing the problem like he did every other instance, but this time Arnold felt empty, and as though he'd betrayed his grandfather.

Helga walked down the steps and brushed her hand over his shoulders. "Everything's okay now." Arnold put his hand on Helga's as she assured with her arms folded around him, "You don't have anything more to worry about, Arnold, Phil's gone on to his rest now."

Arnold admitted, “I wish I could have done better for him.”

The caring young woman assuaged, "You did, Darling, all the poor guy needed was his proof." With a loving, gentle kiss on his cheek, Helga pointed down towards the black napkin, and said kindly to her boyfriend, "I think you should consider getting rid of that."

As Helga walked away, Arnold plucked up his courage, and opened up the wrinkled, but folded black napkin.

With a sigh as he peered at the spectacle before him, Arnold said with regret, mixed with a wistful air as he stared at his grandfather's darkened detached nose sandwiched in the folds of the napkin.

"If that's not proof, I don't know what is."