| By Sam Singleton Atheist Evangelist |
| Harmony |
Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt couldn’t see why the visit had to come at
Christmas. Being Jehovah’s Witnesses, and not believing in Christmas anyway, his A
Chip On His Shoulder, could’ve made it some other time. Any other time. But
soon, there they’d be, pulling up in that soup green Datsun pickup with Mississippi
plates, a week’s worth of worthlessness all piled under a tarp in the back.
“They’re here!” Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad had some sort of
estrogen-triggered innate maternal radar that warned her of the approach of any of
her kids long before they actually arrived.
“They’re here!” This time she said it like she meant it. “Has To Be In Charge All
The Time! They’re here!”
“I heard you.”
He came from out of nowhere or perhaps had been there all along. “You don’t have
to yell.” Has To Be In Charge All The Time had a way of sounding as if all his finer
sensibilities had been egregiously offended. “That truck needs shocks.”
The way his parents stood looking out the window, with their hands framing their
faces, embarrassed and annoyed Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt.
Has To Be In Charge All The Time and Always Looking For An Excuse To Get
Mad slammed through the front door to greet their baby girl.
“Hi, Honey Pot!” Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad outdistanced her
husband by a good ten yards. “You look tired. I imagine you’ve had enough of
sitting on that old hard seat, bless your heart. Has To Be In Charge All The Time!
Help her with that!”
“I was, if you’d give me a chance.”
She told him, “It didn’t look to me like you were doing anything.” And then she
said to her daughter, “He just likes to argue.”
Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself gave her father two big paper bags full of
God knows what. Thus encumbered, he lumbered over to the driver’s side of the
Datsun, where his son-in-law had loosened a bungee cord on a corner of the tarp.
By way of salutation, Has To Be In Charge All The Time offered, “Looks like this
truck needs shocks.”
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder said, “How you been? Boy I’ll tell you
what. I didn’t think we was ever going to get here. My truck? She’s just loaded up,
in terms of her limit, is all. Them’s gas shocks. Set different than regular shocks.” He
gave vent to his resentment at what he regarded as impertinent in-paternal meddling
in the sacred realm of his suspension components by relegating the criticism to
second-class status, in terms of his response. The jab, though artfully subtle, was not
lost on Has To Be In Charge All The Time, and probably set the tone for the
remainder of the visit.
Directing his attention across the truck’s bed, Has To Be In Charge All The Time
said to Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself, who her younger brother Don’t
Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt knew to be Has To Be In Charge All The
Time’s favorite, “Hello, Stupid.”
For years, Has To Be In Charge All The Time and Never Thinks Of Anybody But
Herself had called each other “Stupid.” It was an expression of affection, theirs
alone, off-limits to the rest of the family.
“Hi, Stupid,” she replied.
Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself smiled at her father, her buddy, then said to
Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad, “He been behaving himself?”
“He just does what he wants. Don’t do no good to try to change him,” her mother
replied.
Meanwhile, Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder had gotten the tarp peeled
back over the tailgate, and was saying to Has To Be In Charge All The Time,
“Looky here. We brung you all something good from home. Country ham. She’s a
dandy. Look at that mold on there.”
“The only good thing about Mississippi,” said the older man, “is you folks down
there make good hams.”
“I’ll tell you what. I don’t know about Mississippi, but I wouldn’t take the city of
Fort Smith and the whole state of Arkansas if you give ‘em to me for free and
threw in Missouri to boot,” huffed Acts Like He’s Got A Chip on His Shoulder,
who had a way of getting his back up when it came to discussions of Mississippi. To
his father-in-law, that was like saying “sic ’em” to a bulldog.
“I can’t see what in the world you see in Mississippi, said Has To Be In Charge All
The Time. “It’s about the biggest nothing anywhere.”
For Has To Be In Charge All The Time, the pleasure derived from needling his
smart-alecky son-in-law was worthy of sacrificing any chance the family had of
enjoying a harmonious reunion.
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder let that pass as he surrendered the ham
into the hands of the man he regarded as a tiresome blowhard, who accepted it with
his usual grace and magnanimousness: “It’s a big one, I’ll say that. This almost looks
like a Tennessee ham, to me. They grow a bigger pig up there, you know.”
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder answered evenly, “She’s straight outta
Buckatunna. Mississippi. Don’t nobody grow a bigger pig than Mississippi.
Especially southeast Mississippi. In terms of the bigness of their pigs, Buckatunna
would be your Pig Capital. They got a plaque. But a man can’t be expected to
know that, not knowing about pigs in general.”
The two men headed for the house, mulling over, each in his own way, all the
snappy rejoinders that should have been made but weren’t. Never Thinks Of
Anybody But Herself and Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad led by a
few paces, their arms full of over-stuffed pillowcases and brown paper bag luggage
of the visitors from the Magnolia State.
Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt had declined to go outside to greet his
sister, and so was there to open the door for those whose arms were full, but didn't
because The Andy Griffith Show was down to the part where Andy has a little
good natured fun at Barney’s expense, and although he’d seen it a thousand times
before, Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt had a hard and fast rule about being
interrupted during his Mayberry Time.
His sister spoke first, “Don’t get hurt falling all over yourself opening the door or
anything, little brother.”
Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad added, “Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On
His Butt! Get up from there and give your sister a hand with that stuff!”
The brother felt wounded. “I was gonna help, but my disc is acting up again. It
hurts to move.”
He hauled himself out of the chair, saying to his sister as he made his way to the
door, “So how you been? Personally, I’ve been better myself. I did something to my
disc—don’t know what, but I can’t seem to get over it. I’d go to the doctor but there’
s some kind of hold up with my medical card. And then I turned around and busted
a tooth the other day. They’re talking root canal. But, hey, that’s enough about my
sorry self. You have a good trip? I was up to Kansas City two weeks ago. Saw the
Royals and the Rangers. Three to two, Rangers. Should’ve gotten my money back.
Look at this. You ever see this one? You see, Andy’s got Barney’s shoes hidden in
that desk drawer. Wait’ll Barney comes walking out of the back room. Look at his
hair. This kills me.”
Having completed the hard work of opening the door, Don’t Do Nothing But Sit
On His Butt sat back down to savor the final few minutes of his favorite TV show.
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder used his foot to work open the door
for himself and Has To Be In Charge All The Time. Distributed between the two of
them were the ham, Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself’s purse, an inflatable
rubber donut, and at least a half-dozen clothes filled sacks
“Andy Griffith,” announced Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt, from his chair.
“Good one.”
“Anywhere’s fine,” said Has To Be In Charge All The Time, trying to ignore the
boy. “Just plop that stuff anywhere you can find a spot.”
Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad had been cooking all morning and was
just cruising for a chance to martyr herself at the Alter of the Ungrateful Family
Member. “Well, dinner’s all ready,” she announced. “Why don’t we just go ahead
and sit on down. Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt, turn off the TV and come
and eat.”
Even before Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt could protest, in his whining,
make-you-want-to-strangle-him voice, that he’d be along as soon as the closing
credits had run, his sister said, “Oh were not hungry. We’ve been eating baloney
sandwiches and powder sugar donuts till we’re both about sick. All we really want
to do is find someplace to lay down and take a little nap.”
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder added, “I couldn’t even think about
food. I just need to hit the john and then catch about an hour or two, in terms of
sleep.”
Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad went on record: “Well I sure don’t
know why I bothered to get up at six in he morning to start cooking.” She paused
for effect and to allow her always-at-the-ready pot of tears time to percolate to a
full boil.
“Well you might’ve told us you was planning a big dinner,” Never Thinks Of
Anybody But Herself butted in before her mother could continue. “We can’t help
it if we’re not hungry. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open, anyway. Just save us
some leftovers to heat up later and we’ll be fine. Now if you don’t mind, I’d just as
soon find someplace to lay down for a little bit. Your room okay?”
Ignoring the baleful expression on Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad’s
face, Has To Be In Charge All The Time was happy to extend to his only daughter
the sheltering cover of her father’s authority. “You go on in and take a nap,” he
said. “It’ll be fine.” His arrangement with Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt
was somewhat different. “Your mother told you turn off the TV and come to
dinner,: he said. “Now get in here! Twenty years old and you sit around like the
world owes you a living. I never seen anything like it in my life.”
“It’s not over yet,” said Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt. “There’s an
epilogue coming up after these commercials.”
As Has To Be In Charge All The Time was yanking the cord from the socket,
Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself ducked into the bedroom, attempting, on
her way, to take her husband in tow. He declined her invitation, preferring instead
to remain standing next to the dinner table and within smelling range of the ham,
turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and giblet gravy, candied yams with burnt
marshmallows, cracklin’ bread, and green beans with bacon.
“I’ll be along in a minute,” he assured Never Thinks of Anybody But Herself, who
gave the impression that she was more interested in escaping the teary gaze of her
mother’s reproachful eyes than in taking a nap. “Just go on in.”
As soon as Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself closed the bedroom door,
Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad broke out crying in earnest, gasping
between sobs, “Just throw it in the trash, that’s all. I might as well just throw it in
the trash.”
It was customary for Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad to seek solitary
refuge in the boudoir after such an outburst. Since it was occupied, she fled the
house via the back door to find a place on the passenger side of the family’s Dodge.
She locked the doors.
“I can’t decide if she reminds me of Maxwell Smart in the Dome of Silence or
Earnest T. Bass when he talks about hermitizing himself,” offered Don’t Do
Nothing But Sit On His Butt, leaning forward in his chair so as to be able to see out
the window.
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder jumped all over Don’t Do Nothing
But Sit On His Butt. “Son, don’t you ever talk about your mother that way. You
do, and me and you’s going to have big trouble.”
All hell ascended in the fury of Has To Be In Charge All The Time. “Now I don’t
care what you do or say in your own house, but while you’re under my roof you
will not correct my son.”
At first it looked like Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder would, without
raising a defense, allow himself to be called-down by his father-in-law. Maybe thirty
seconds passed before he wheeled around to face Has To Be In Charge All The Time
and said with something resembling an amalgam of trepidation and menace, “I don’t
care whose house it is. If you’d ever taught that boy anything like manners, he
wouldn’t talk about his mother that way. Where I come from, you’re raised to
respect your elders, in terms of just basic decency. You don’t poke fun at your own
mother. I never saw anybody do that before. There’s no excuse, and I don’t care if
you like it or not. And I’ll tell you another thing, too, Son.” Here, he redirected his
attention to Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt, who was still ensconced in the
green recliner in the living room. “You don’t like what I got to say, you and me can
just go ahead and step outside right now and go after it like men, without your
daddy sticking up for you.”
Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt’s earlier remark about his mother had been
made off-handedly, during a station break. His brain hadn’t yet registered how his
smartmouthing had gotten on the very worst side of his brother-in-law. He had
been tuning out the exchange between Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder
and Has To Be In Charge All The Time. When the whole business started, his initial
reaction was to be angry at his father for unplugging the TV. And now Acts Like
He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder was threatening him with bodily harm.
Eventually, Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt collected himself enough to
weigh in. “You people all act like a bunch of ignorant hicks, which is all you are.
Why don’t you just turn around and go on back to Mississippi where idiots like you
fit in better.” He rose from his chair, got right up next to his brother-in-law, and
continued, “I wasn’t down in the back, I’d be tickled to follow your sorry tail-end
outside right now and show you how.”
Has To Be In Charge All The Time stepped in between the two would-be
combatants and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Stop it! I’m not going to have this
in my house!”
If he aimed to quash any potential violence, he needn’t have bothered. Don’t Do
Nothing But Sit On His Butt had a pretty good mouth on him, but couldn’t whip
his way out of a paper bag. And Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder’s
offer to step outside was purely perfunctory. He had, just by making the gesture,
done what he had to do, in terms of a man being a man. And as for his younger,
smaller, lighter, noisier, brother-in-law, Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His
Shoulder would not be provoked to violence by insults alone.
Still, Has To Be In Charge All The Time wasn’t going to let anyone come into his
house and threaten a member of the immediate family. He said to the son-in-law,
“You’re so worried about your mother-in-law, why didn’t you want to sit down
and eat the dinner she spent all morning making? You and Never Thinks Of
Anybody But Herself—and I can’t even begin to imagine how you’ve poisoned her
mind against her family—come here like you’re doing us some sort of favor or
something. Well I’ll tell you what. Having you all come barging in, throwing your
weight around, ain’t no favor to me and Always Looking For An Excuse To Get
Mad. I promise you that. And I’ll just tell you something else, too, while I’m at it.
Your problem ain’t with the boy. And you don’t have to worry about who’s
sticking up for who. ‘Cause you don’t straighten up, you’re going to be dealing with
me.”
The voices raised in anger brought Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself out of
the bedroom to offer her two cents worth.
“I can’t believe this,” she said to her husband. “We come five hundred and fifty
miles to see my folks and you got to pick a fight.”
She caught Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder at a bad time. He shot
back, “For over a month, all you’ve done is cry about how bad you wanted to
come and see your people. And now ever since we left home you ain’t done
nothing but whine about how bad you had it as a little girl and how we was only
making this trip out of obligation. Don’t you stand there and get on me over this. I’
m flat not going to put up with it one little bit.”
Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself’s voice took on a slight quiver. She said,
“Don’t you start in picking on me again. Ever since we left Clara—no, before that—
when we was packing: Pick. Pick. Pick. And now you’re starting in on my family?
I’m ashamed. I am. I wish we hadn’t even come. I mean it.” She was building steam
as she went. All those remaining in the house knew that soon she’d be bawling.
They weren’t disappointed.
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder had been down that road before. He
looked at her and said, “You wanted to come here and see your folks. I didn’t want
to come, but it was what you wanted, so I was glad to do it, in terms of keeping the
peace. Now, ever since six this morning, when we finally got out of Clara (and it
would’ve been five-thirty if you hadn’t of lost your yeast medicine—and who was it
found it for you anyway) you been on me about what I can say and what I can’t
say and what I’m supposed to do, or not, so you’ll be proud to your family. You
say, ‘Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder, don’t talk about how beautiful
Mississippi is. Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder, don’t talk about how
ugly Arkansas is. Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder, don’t talk about
Jehovah’s Witnesses.’ Well let me tell you something, Little Miss Never Thinks Of
Anybody But Herself. You want to go back home? We will. Nothing in the world
would make me happier, in terms of being happy. We’ll just get right on in that
truck out there and be on our way back to Clara, Mississippi.”
With that, Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself sputtered a time or two before
making her way out the front door, straight to the passenger side of the Datsun. She
locked the doors.
Not paying her much mind, Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder turned to
Has To Be In Charge All The Time and said, “Now, as far as I’m concerned, both
you and Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt have been way out of line. And I
meant what I said about Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself and me going back
home to Clara. But one thing you said was absolutely right. First, we ought to eat
this dinner, and appreciate Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad for going
to the trouble.”
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder’s anger had crested. His better nature
was attempting a comeback, urged on by his appetite.
Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt, sensing that he could get in a shot or two at
little risk to himself, had to say, “I still want to go outside. I promise you, if I wasn’t
hungrier than Ghandi’s dog, and didn’t have this disc, I’d tear you loose from
yourself. You can believe that. And another thing, I’m almost willing to risk
permanent paralysis just to have the pleasure of whipping your behind. And
another thing, where do you get off calling me ‘Son?’ Do I look fat and stupid
enough to be your son? I don’t think so. And another thing— ”
Has To Be In Charge All The Time decided his son had rambled long enough, and
so interrupted with, “Shut up! You’re about as worthless as hair on bacon. The
only time you ever take your eyes off that idiot box is to say something snotty to
somebody. Well maybe if we just went on ahead and got rid of the TV you’d have
to learn to get along with people. You’re twenty years old, son. Twenty. I don’t see
how in the world you can just lay around. If it was me, I’d go stark staring mad. I
mean there must be something very wrong for you to just lay there and watch TV.
I’m not going to have it. I’m not.”
Has To Be In Charge All The Time’s voice peaked in volume about halfway
through his tirade, and his tone grew more subdued—resigned—as he wrapped up.
He turned his attention to Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder.
Meanwhile, Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt pounded out through the same
door used by his sister only minutes before. He retired to the passenger side of the
’61 Ford Galaxy borrowed from his buddy Ernie.
“This is wrong,” Has To Be In Charge All The Time said to his daughter’s husband.
“Why can’t we all get together without everybody getting mad?” Wonder, or
maybe bewilderment, colored the remaining anger in his voice.
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder said, “I sure don’t know, Has To Be In
Charge All The Time, but whatever it is it sure ain’t right.”
Endless seconds crept by as the two men, frozen in an unsteady truce, struggled for
the answer to the Riddle of Why This Family Can’t Get Along.
It was Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder who broke the silence. “Food
should still be warm.”
That was good enough for Has To Be In Charge All The Time, who hollered out
the back door, “Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad! Food’s getting cold!
Come on in and eat!”
He then went to the front door: “Stupid! Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt!
You all stop acting like your mamma and come and eat! Food’s getting cold!”
Chapter Two
“Heavenly Father, we thank you for the bounty that’s been placed before us, and
ask you to bless it to the nourishment of our bodies, even as you bless the hands
that prepared it. We thank you for bringing our family—and Acts Like He’s Got A
Chip On His Shoulder is included, too—together for this wonderful time of
fellowship. In Jesus name, amen and amen.”
“Jehovah. He didn’t say Jehovah.”
“Hush.”
“Ham’s a little on the salty side.”
“Hush.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m still full of baloney and donuts.”
“Hush.”
“Well if you don’t want to eat— ”
“Hush.”
“Green Acres’ll be on in a minute.”
“Shut up and eat your ham.”
Christmas. Being Jehovah’s Witnesses, and not believing in Christmas anyway, his A
Chip On His Shoulder, could’ve made it some other time. Any other time. But
soon, there they’d be, pulling up in that soup green Datsun pickup with Mississippi
plates, a week’s worth of worthlessness all piled under a tarp in the back.
“They’re here!” Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad had some sort of
estrogen-triggered innate maternal radar that warned her of the approach of any of
her kids long before they actually arrived.
“They’re here!” This time she said it like she meant it. “Has To Be In Charge All
The Time! They’re here!”
“I heard you.”
He came from out of nowhere or perhaps had been there all along. “You don’t have
to yell.” Has To Be In Charge All The Time had a way of sounding as if all his finer
sensibilities had been egregiously offended. “That truck needs shocks.”
The way his parents stood looking out the window, with their hands framing their
faces, embarrassed and annoyed Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt.
Has To Be In Charge All The Time and Always Looking For An Excuse To Get
Mad slammed through the front door to greet their baby girl.
“Hi, Honey Pot!” Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad outdistanced her
husband by a good ten yards. “You look tired. I imagine you’ve had enough of
sitting on that old hard seat, bless your heart. Has To Be In Charge All The Time!
Help her with that!”
“I was, if you’d give me a chance.”
She told him, “It didn’t look to me like you were doing anything.” And then she
said to her daughter, “He just likes to argue.”
Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself gave her father two big paper bags full of
God knows what. Thus encumbered, he lumbered over to the driver’s side of the
Datsun, where his son-in-law had loosened a bungee cord on a corner of the tarp.
By way of salutation, Has To Be In Charge All The Time offered, “Looks like this
truck needs shocks.”
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder said, “How you been? Boy I’ll tell you
what. I didn’t think we was ever going to get here. My truck? She’s just loaded up,
in terms of her limit, is all. Them’s gas shocks. Set different than regular shocks.” He
gave vent to his resentment at what he regarded as impertinent in-paternal meddling
in the sacred realm of his suspension components by relegating the criticism to
second-class status, in terms of his response. The jab, though artfully subtle, was not
lost on Has To Be In Charge All The Time, and probably set the tone for the
remainder of the visit.
Directing his attention across the truck’s bed, Has To Be In Charge All The Time
said to Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself, who her younger brother Don’t
Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt knew to be Has To Be In Charge All The
Time’s favorite, “Hello, Stupid.”
For years, Has To Be In Charge All The Time and Never Thinks Of Anybody But
Herself had called each other “Stupid.” It was an expression of affection, theirs
alone, off-limits to the rest of the family.
“Hi, Stupid,” she replied.
Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself smiled at her father, her buddy, then said to
Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad, “He been behaving himself?”
“He just does what he wants. Don’t do no good to try to change him,” her mother
replied.
Meanwhile, Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder had gotten the tarp peeled
back over the tailgate, and was saying to Has To Be In Charge All The Time,
“Looky here. We brung you all something good from home. Country ham. She’s a
dandy. Look at that mold on there.”
“The only good thing about Mississippi,” said the older man, “is you folks down
there make good hams.”
“I’ll tell you what. I don’t know about Mississippi, but I wouldn’t take the city of
Fort Smith and the whole state of Arkansas if you give ‘em to me for free and
threw in Missouri to boot,” huffed Acts Like He’s Got A Chip on His Shoulder,
who had a way of getting his back up when it came to discussions of Mississippi. To
his father-in-law, that was like saying “sic ’em” to a bulldog.
“I can’t see what in the world you see in Mississippi, said Has To Be In Charge All
The Time. “It’s about the biggest nothing anywhere.”
For Has To Be In Charge All The Time, the pleasure derived from needling his
smart-alecky son-in-law was worthy of sacrificing any chance the family had of
enjoying a harmonious reunion.
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder let that pass as he surrendered the ham
into the hands of the man he regarded as a tiresome blowhard, who accepted it with
his usual grace and magnanimousness: “It’s a big one, I’ll say that. This almost looks
like a Tennessee ham, to me. They grow a bigger pig up there, you know.”
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder answered evenly, “She’s straight outta
Buckatunna. Mississippi. Don’t nobody grow a bigger pig than Mississippi.
Especially southeast Mississippi. In terms of the bigness of their pigs, Buckatunna
would be your Pig Capital. They got a plaque. But a man can’t be expected to
know that, not knowing about pigs in general.”
The two men headed for the house, mulling over, each in his own way, all the
snappy rejoinders that should have been made but weren’t. Never Thinks Of
Anybody But Herself and Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad led by a
few paces, their arms full of over-stuffed pillowcases and brown paper bag luggage
of the visitors from the Magnolia State.
Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt had declined to go outside to greet his
sister, and so was there to open the door for those whose arms were full, but didn't
because The Andy Griffith Show was down to the part where Andy has a little
good natured fun at Barney’s expense, and although he’d seen it a thousand times
before, Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt had a hard and fast rule about being
interrupted during his Mayberry Time.
His sister spoke first, “Don’t get hurt falling all over yourself opening the door or
anything, little brother.”
Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad added, “Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On
His Butt! Get up from there and give your sister a hand with that stuff!”
The brother felt wounded. “I was gonna help, but my disc is acting up again. It
hurts to move.”
He hauled himself out of the chair, saying to his sister as he made his way to the
door, “So how you been? Personally, I’ve been better myself. I did something to my
disc—don’t know what, but I can’t seem to get over it. I’d go to the doctor but there’
s some kind of hold up with my medical card. And then I turned around and busted
a tooth the other day. They’re talking root canal. But, hey, that’s enough about my
sorry self. You have a good trip? I was up to Kansas City two weeks ago. Saw the
Royals and the Rangers. Three to two, Rangers. Should’ve gotten my money back.
Look at this. You ever see this one? You see, Andy’s got Barney’s shoes hidden in
that desk drawer. Wait’ll Barney comes walking out of the back room. Look at his
hair. This kills me.”
Having completed the hard work of opening the door, Don’t Do Nothing But Sit
On His Butt sat back down to savor the final few minutes of his favorite TV show.
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder used his foot to work open the door
for himself and Has To Be In Charge All The Time. Distributed between the two of
them were the ham, Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself’s purse, an inflatable
rubber donut, and at least a half-dozen clothes filled sacks
“Andy Griffith,” announced Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt, from his chair.
“Good one.”
“Anywhere’s fine,” said Has To Be In Charge All The Time, trying to ignore the
boy. “Just plop that stuff anywhere you can find a spot.”
Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad had been cooking all morning and was
just cruising for a chance to martyr herself at the Alter of the Ungrateful Family
Member. “Well, dinner’s all ready,” she announced. “Why don’t we just go ahead
and sit on down. Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt, turn off the TV and come
and eat.”
Even before Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt could protest, in his whining,
make-you-want-to-strangle-him voice, that he’d be along as soon as the closing
credits had run, his sister said, “Oh were not hungry. We’ve been eating baloney
sandwiches and powder sugar donuts till we’re both about sick. All we really want
to do is find someplace to lay down and take a little nap.”
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder added, “I couldn’t even think about
food. I just need to hit the john and then catch about an hour or two, in terms of
sleep.”
Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad went on record: “Well I sure don’t
know why I bothered to get up at six in he morning to start cooking.” She paused
for effect and to allow her always-at-the-ready pot of tears time to percolate to a
full boil.
“Well you might’ve told us you was planning a big dinner,” Never Thinks Of
Anybody But Herself butted in before her mother could continue. “We can’t help
it if we’re not hungry. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open, anyway. Just save us
some leftovers to heat up later and we’ll be fine. Now if you don’t mind, I’d just as
soon find someplace to lay down for a little bit. Your room okay?”
Ignoring the baleful expression on Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad’s
face, Has To Be In Charge All The Time was happy to extend to his only daughter
the sheltering cover of her father’s authority. “You go on in and take a nap,” he
said. “It’ll be fine.” His arrangement with Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt
was somewhat different. “Your mother told you turn off the TV and come to
dinner,: he said. “Now get in here! Twenty years old and you sit around like the
world owes you a living. I never seen anything like it in my life.”
“It’s not over yet,” said Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt. “There’s an
epilogue coming up after these commercials.”
As Has To Be In Charge All The Time was yanking the cord from the socket,
Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself ducked into the bedroom, attempting, on
her way, to take her husband in tow. He declined her invitation, preferring instead
to remain standing next to the dinner table and within smelling range of the ham,
turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and giblet gravy, candied yams with burnt
marshmallows, cracklin’ bread, and green beans with bacon.
“I’ll be along in a minute,” he assured Never Thinks of Anybody But Herself, who
gave the impression that she was more interested in escaping the teary gaze of her
mother’s reproachful eyes than in taking a nap. “Just go on in.”
As soon as Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself closed the bedroom door,
Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad broke out crying in earnest, gasping
between sobs, “Just throw it in the trash, that’s all. I might as well just throw it in
the trash.”
It was customary for Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad to seek solitary
refuge in the boudoir after such an outburst. Since it was occupied, she fled the
house via the back door to find a place on the passenger side of the family’s Dodge.
She locked the doors.
“I can’t decide if she reminds me of Maxwell Smart in the Dome of Silence or
Earnest T. Bass when he talks about hermitizing himself,” offered Don’t Do
Nothing But Sit On His Butt, leaning forward in his chair so as to be able to see out
the window.
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder jumped all over Don’t Do Nothing
But Sit On His Butt. “Son, don’t you ever talk about your mother that way. You
do, and me and you’s going to have big trouble.”
All hell ascended in the fury of Has To Be In Charge All The Time. “Now I don’t
care what you do or say in your own house, but while you’re under my roof you
will not correct my son.”
At first it looked like Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder would, without
raising a defense, allow himself to be called-down by his father-in-law. Maybe thirty
seconds passed before he wheeled around to face Has To Be In Charge All The Time
and said with something resembling an amalgam of trepidation and menace, “I don’t
care whose house it is. If you’d ever taught that boy anything like manners, he
wouldn’t talk about his mother that way. Where I come from, you’re raised to
respect your elders, in terms of just basic decency. You don’t poke fun at your own
mother. I never saw anybody do that before. There’s no excuse, and I don’t care if
you like it or not. And I’ll tell you another thing, too, Son.” Here, he redirected his
attention to Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt, who was still ensconced in the
green recliner in the living room. “You don’t like what I got to say, you and me can
just go ahead and step outside right now and go after it like men, without your
daddy sticking up for you.”
Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt’s earlier remark about his mother had been
made off-handedly, during a station break. His brain hadn’t yet registered how his
smartmouthing had gotten on the very worst side of his brother-in-law. He had
been tuning out the exchange between Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder
and Has To Be In Charge All The Time. When the whole business started, his initial
reaction was to be angry at his father for unplugging the TV. And now Acts Like
He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder was threatening him with bodily harm.
Eventually, Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt collected himself enough to
weigh in. “You people all act like a bunch of ignorant hicks, which is all you are.
Why don’t you just turn around and go on back to Mississippi where idiots like you
fit in better.” He rose from his chair, got right up next to his brother-in-law, and
continued, “I wasn’t down in the back, I’d be tickled to follow your sorry tail-end
outside right now and show you how.”
Has To Be In Charge All The Time stepped in between the two would-be
combatants and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Stop it! I’m not going to have this
in my house!”
If he aimed to quash any potential violence, he needn’t have bothered. Don’t Do
Nothing But Sit On His Butt had a pretty good mouth on him, but couldn’t whip
his way out of a paper bag. And Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder’s
offer to step outside was purely perfunctory. He had, just by making the gesture,
done what he had to do, in terms of a man being a man. And as for his younger,
smaller, lighter, noisier, brother-in-law, Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His
Shoulder would not be provoked to violence by insults alone.
Still, Has To Be In Charge All The Time wasn’t going to let anyone come into his
house and threaten a member of the immediate family. He said to the son-in-law,
“You’re so worried about your mother-in-law, why didn’t you want to sit down
and eat the dinner she spent all morning making? You and Never Thinks Of
Anybody But Herself—and I can’t even begin to imagine how you’ve poisoned her
mind against her family—come here like you’re doing us some sort of favor or
something. Well I’ll tell you what. Having you all come barging in, throwing your
weight around, ain’t no favor to me and Always Looking For An Excuse To Get
Mad. I promise you that. And I’ll just tell you something else, too, while I’m at it.
Your problem ain’t with the boy. And you don’t have to worry about who’s
sticking up for who. ‘Cause you don’t straighten up, you’re going to be dealing with
me.”
The voices raised in anger brought Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself out of
the bedroom to offer her two cents worth.
“I can’t believe this,” she said to her husband. “We come five hundred and fifty
miles to see my folks and you got to pick a fight.”
She caught Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder at a bad time. He shot
back, “For over a month, all you’ve done is cry about how bad you wanted to
come and see your people. And now ever since we left home you ain’t done
nothing but whine about how bad you had it as a little girl and how we was only
making this trip out of obligation. Don’t you stand there and get on me over this. I’
m flat not going to put up with it one little bit.”
Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself’s voice took on a slight quiver. She said,
“Don’t you start in picking on me again. Ever since we left Clara—no, before that—
when we was packing: Pick. Pick. Pick. And now you’re starting in on my family?
I’m ashamed. I am. I wish we hadn’t even come. I mean it.” She was building steam
as she went. All those remaining in the house knew that soon she’d be bawling.
They weren’t disappointed.
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder had been down that road before. He
looked at her and said, “You wanted to come here and see your folks. I didn’t want
to come, but it was what you wanted, so I was glad to do it, in terms of keeping the
peace. Now, ever since six this morning, when we finally got out of Clara (and it
would’ve been five-thirty if you hadn’t of lost your yeast medicine—and who was it
found it for you anyway) you been on me about what I can say and what I can’t
say and what I’m supposed to do, or not, so you’ll be proud to your family. You
say, ‘Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder, don’t talk about how beautiful
Mississippi is. Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder, don’t talk about how
ugly Arkansas is. Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder, don’t talk about
Jehovah’s Witnesses.’ Well let me tell you something, Little Miss Never Thinks Of
Anybody But Herself. You want to go back home? We will. Nothing in the world
would make me happier, in terms of being happy. We’ll just get right on in that
truck out there and be on our way back to Clara, Mississippi.”
With that, Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself sputtered a time or two before
making her way out the front door, straight to the passenger side of the Datsun. She
locked the doors.
Not paying her much mind, Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder turned to
Has To Be In Charge All The Time and said, “Now, as far as I’m concerned, both
you and Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt have been way out of line. And I
meant what I said about Never Thinks Of Anybody But Herself and me going back
home to Clara. But one thing you said was absolutely right. First, we ought to eat
this dinner, and appreciate Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad for going
to the trouble.”
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder’s anger had crested. His better nature
was attempting a comeback, urged on by his appetite.
Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt, sensing that he could get in a shot or two at
little risk to himself, had to say, “I still want to go outside. I promise you, if I wasn’t
hungrier than Ghandi’s dog, and didn’t have this disc, I’d tear you loose from
yourself. You can believe that. And another thing, I’m almost willing to risk
permanent paralysis just to have the pleasure of whipping your behind. And
another thing, where do you get off calling me ‘Son?’ Do I look fat and stupid
enough to be your son? I don’t think so. And another thing— ”
Has To Be In Charge All The Time decided his son had rambled long enough, and
so interrupted with, “Shut up! You’re about as worthless as hair on bacon. The
only time you ever take your eyes off that idiot box is to say something snotty to
somebody. Well maybe if we just went on ahead and got rid of the TV you’d have
to learn to get along with people. You’re twenty years old, son. Twenty. I don’t see
how in the world you can just lay around. If it was me, I’d go stark staring mad. I
mean there must be something very wrong for you to just lay there and watch TV.
I’m not going to have it. I’m not.”
Has To Be In Charge All The Time’s voice peaked in volume about halfway
through his tirade, and his tone grew more subdued—resigned—as he wrapped up.
He turned his attention to Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder.
Meanwhile, Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt pounded out through the same
door used by his sister only minutes before. He retired to the passenger side of the
’61 Ford Galaxy borrowed from his buddy Ernie.
“This is wrong,” Has To Be In Charge All The Time said to his daughter’s husband.
“Why can’t we all get together without everybody getting mad?” Wonder, or
maybe bewilderment, colored the remaining anger in his voice.
Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder said, “I sure don’t know, Has To Be In
Charge All The Time, but whatever it is it sure ain’t right.”
Endless seconds crept by as the two men, frozen in an unsteady truce, struggled for
the answer to the Riddle of Why This Family Can’t Get Along.
It was Acts Like He’s Got A Chip On His Shoulder who broke the silence. “Food
should still be warm.”
That was good enough for Has To Be In Charge All The Time, who hollered out
the back door, “Always Looking For An Excuse To Get Mad! Food’s getting cold!
Come on in and eat!”
He then went to the front door: “Stupid! Don’t Do Nothing But Sit On His Butt!
You all stop acting like your mamma and come and eat! Food’s getting cold!”
Chapter Two
“Heavenly Father, we thank you for the bounty that’s been placed before us, and
ask you to bless it to the nourishment of our bodies, even as you bless the hands
that prepared it. We thank you for bringing our family—and Acts Like He’s Got A
Chip On His Shoulder is included, too—together for this wonderful time of
fellowship. In Jesus name, amen and amen.”
“Jehovah. He didn’t say Jehovah.”
“Hush.”
“Ham’s a little on the salty side.”
“Hush.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m still full of baloney and donuts.”
“Hush.”
“Well if you don’t want to eat— ”
“Hush.”
“Green Acres’ll be on in a minute.”
“Shut up and eat your ham.”