Fool’s Top

Loudly whistling, I was harvesting this months crop. My whistling was out of tune, but I couldn’t care less. My next neighbors lived in a town some 10 miles from here and in the event there was someone more nearby, I didn’t care for them.

At different times before and during the summer, I had planted some cauliflower, broccoli, beetroot, onions, pees, rhubarb and various potatoes in a glasshouse on my mountain top. I had setup and calculated their respective growth cycle well. Already four wooden crates were filled with vegetables. The tomato plants were still giving generously and I plucked the ripe ones. With care I placed the crates on the platform to bring them down the mountain. Early tomorrow morning the platform would arrive down in the valley at my house. Gravity did all the work and an ingenious set of winches coupled to a dynamo made electricity, while the platform would slowly go down.

Ready with today’s work I took a few moments to admire my land. Dry rocky mountains from West to East. My domain was ten by thirty miles. I also tried to locate my Irish Wolfhound wandering around. In vain of course. The dog’s colors blended with the rocky lands I owned. From up here I did clearly see the hill on which I created my house though. The big windows reflecting the sun were quite obvious. This mountain was named Fool’s Top, in memory of some infantile reclusive who tried to survive here in this desolate place, a hundred years ago. When I heard that story there was only but one choice for me to become that reclusive myself. I set my goals to survive here for longer a period than he did. For a moment I thought to see a cloud of dust beyond my gate, perhaps two miles away. I shrugged of the thought. I didn’t expect anybody in the next half year.

The annals of this region told me the reclusive man settled here in 1902 and had lived here for at least five years, maybe 15. To my surprise the mountain and its surrounding lands were never claimed and I therefore could make it mine. For almost free. A small part of the money I had saved throughout my life and could keep hidden from the female vultures I had been married with, went into tooling, guns and seeds. I didn’t need much money to build myself a house. The former fool that lived here was a genius in creating a cozy environment under an overhanging rock in the mountain. Yes, the big glass panels with sliding doors to close the gap cost me a bundle, but it was totally worth it.

Carefully I made my way down and arriving in the valley, I released the cable to slowly lower the platform. I had a long day of work behind me and I longed for a hot bath. Hurriedly I took the temperature of the large aluminum water barrel finding it to be a comfortable 110℉. I opened the valves to fill the bath. Water was the other reason I acquired myself this place. I was prospecting for oil but instead of black gold, I found a vast amount of water beneath the mountain and stopped searching. Drilling to the water and the setting up of the filters to make it drinkable didn’t cost much. I had the gear and I had the time. Here I was on my own with my dog. She grazed my side with her head telling me someone was coming. I thought of the cloud of dust I saw up on the mountain. If that was a car it would now be near. I wondered why, for Guy, my supplier, was the only one ever visiting me every half year and he had done so only two weeks ago. I didn’t give it another thought. Someone would come or not.

Not having to undress I showered and laid myself down in the generous tub. The water caressed my fatigued muscles and surprisingly I got a boner as well, making me happy there was life in it on my day of age. I was happy the schlung didn’t punish me for neglect. With a happy sigh I fell asleep.

The only problem I needed to solve when I started to live here was my drugs stock. The pills I need to keep myself sane only last for half a year, having me to make an agreement with a supplier in the nearest town to deliver them twice per year. Guy really is a nice guy and every time he makes the trip he asks me for a list of things I need. When he returns half a year later Guy delivers. The trip takes him a day but he says my herbs are worth the trip so it is a win-win situation for the both of us. Only two weeks ago he was here for the seventh time already, bringing some crates of beer with him. He remembered I had once told him I used to drink Desperado from Heineken, a special beer with a taste of tequila. Man, did we have a party. He had to sleep out his hangover and I wish his family would not start a search party for staying away that long. That morning he confessed the beer was a bribe. He than asked to me grow poppy seeds. I thought that was illegal but he showed me a permit. For once I thought the DEA to do a sensible thing. I didn’t tell Guy I already grew poppy for myself for various reasons. For once I was sure Guy would come back in half a year. Poppy oil would pay for his time.

Alarmed from a noise I woke up from my daydreaming and I stood up in the bath. It wasn’t just a noise. It was the awful sound of the click-clakking of high heels on the rocks followed by a scream behind me. I turned around and in a high pitched voice the general reason I went reclusive yelled;

”Cover yourself, you filthy, lazy old man. I didn’t come here to get confronted with that awful object of yours.”

Stepping out of the bath I said,

“It is your own idea to soil my property with your presence, so shut up and be gone. Don’t think I’m lazy enough not to chase you off with some buck shots in your wake. Please give me enough time to get me my shotgun, it’s been a while I had target practice on a live specimen.”

I walked towards the tool shed where I kept my artillery. After turning purple of anger and green of disgust the lady spoke to my back;

”I didn’t come here to be chased off. You have to give me the courtesy of the best possible hospitality after troubling myself to make this trip. I expect you to give me a warm welcome. You will find I have interesting news for you.”

The lady babbled on while I entered the shed and she rambled on when I was inside. Mid sentence she stopped orating, turning yellow upon the sight of me with a shotgun, almost obscuring the proof of my gender. I waited a few moments to have the air molecules around us to get to rest and I whispered;

”Lady, you have one minute to remove yourself from my sight and I forbid you to raise your voice to me again. I’m entitled to shoot you where you stand for trespassing. Don’t think for a minute I will hesitate, you hag. I’d love to perforate your vile body and hang your scalp on my mantelpiece. Be gone and don’t come back.”

With small steps backwards the woman enlarged the distance between us in the direction of her car she had parked between some trees a couple of hundred yards away. I could see it was parked in a peculiar way but maybe it was just to get the most shadow. My pent up anger, paired with her pause in her steps, caused me to fire a warning shot in the air and the woman immediately fell on her behind. Her tripping broke the heel from the pump on her right foot, and after standing up again she humped hurriedly towards her car. I went back to the bath and sat myself looking out towards her car. With no one to precede her performance she broke the record of limping the distance. For one moment I regretted to possess electrical equipment. My country for a camera. How much I would love to spend my days revisiting her retreat.