Lesser Lights by Sandy McIntosh;

Author:Sandy McIntosh; [McIntosh, Sandy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography, Memoir, Poetry
Publisher: BookMobile
Published: 2019-02-12T05:00:00+00:00

“Well, Sir,” Jeeves sighed after attempting to post my bail at the local lockup. “If you wish to explain how it is that you are now wearing handcuffs after spending the night in a jail cell, I will attempt to resolve the problem to our advantage.”

I was, I confess, saddened, rueful—a bit confused. It had all been a misunderstanding (I, told Jeeves, beginning my confession).

My intentions had been honorable. My Plan had started well. I’d come upon Wodehouse walking along, Post Office-bound, supporting himself on a wooden cane. Slowly and quietly I steered the Avocado alongside. “Looks like it’s about to rain,” I said brightly.

No response from Wodehouse.

I repeated it, louder, but still no reply. Was he deaf?

But no. He turned and looked at me. “What do you want?” he demanded in a most unpleasant tone of voice.

“I want to give you a lift. Keep you dry from the rain.”

“There is no rain,” said he. “A bright, sunny day! Thanks, but I’ll walk.”

He continued down the path, getting away from me. What to do? Then a miracle! A clap of thunder, sky darkening. Rain! A sign from Heaven! The car in drive, I caught up. “You see now,” I tell him. “It’s really raining. You’d better get in the car straightaway!”

“No,” he shouted. “I like to walk in the rain!”

Now what? I needed to show him his books on my shelves—my wonderful collection! Books to be autographed! Tea! He, reading aloud to me! I tried again, driving slower, although once nearly hitting him as he tried to cross the road to the dirt path where a car might not go. What to do? Then I saw my chance: A driveway. I turned the Avocado onto the path. (Actually, I noticed in passing, it was not, strictly speaking, a path but someone’s wet lawn.) “Mr. Wodehouse,” I shouted. “Get in my car this minute. I shan’t take no for an answer!” I was concerned for his clothing, you see. Concerned for his health.

Wodehouse looked at me, fear in his eyes. “Get away!” he shouted. “Get away!”

Then in the rearview mirror I saw a police car pull up, leering lights twizzling atop. The cop ordered me to stop, get out of the car, place my right hand on my nose, balance on one leg. “I like to see,” the cop said, “the condition of my drivers, Especially when they trespass on private land.”

Wodehouse hobbled over to the cop. “This young thug,” Wodehouse shouted, his palsied fingers pointing. “This hoodlum is out to kidnap me! See his beady eyes? He must be insane! A lunatic. Look how he’s dressed in that clown’s costume. Arrest him! Arrest him!”

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