Every year, just before Halloween, Charlie got angry. Because every year, just before Halloween, the town's kids would come to his place of employment and cause havoc. Charlie was caretaker at the Eternity Gardens Cemetery.
The kids weren't bad; they were caught between childhhod and becoming adults. They were ffull of dreams and ambition, opinions and ego, but didn't yet have the means to make those dreams come true.
So their festering potential came out in less than productive ways: pranks, rebellion, bullying, and going to the graveyard during Hallowwen week to scare the pants off their friends by telling ghosts stories.
That wasn't what Charlie minded. He had done some of the same things in his younger days. What bothered Charlie was the lack of respect shown by the kids to the residents of his little city of the departed.
Every morning during the week before Halloween, Charlie would assemble his cart and go out to clean up fast-food containers, beer cans and bottles, cigarette butts, the occasional used condom, and the like. He righted plants and flowers that had been knocked or kicked over. He scrubbed off headstones that had stains on them.
But the straw that broke Charlies back was the dead chihuahua he found last year on Halloween morning. Charlie didn't know to whom the dog belonged, but he would feed him scraps on occasion.
Charlie was flirting with retirement age. He had gray, stubbled, grizzly hair and had obviously worked hard all his life,. The morning he found the little dog, nCharlie sat down and cried.
Since no one claimed ownership of Taco or responsibility for his demise, Charlie dug a hole just outside of the fenceline of his cottage (in the graveyard proper), and laid poor little Taco to rest.
This year, Charlie would be ready for the revelers. He had a plan. Charlie dug a casket-sized hole in the ground and placed a small, old, dirt-encrusted, slightly moldy box beside it, with the lid open.
After finishing the scene, Charlie went back to his cottage to take a shower and have supper. He was in fine spirits, for once, and chuckled as he thought of the night's activities. Charlie told an old Marine buddy about his plan. This man had no official capacity in the town, but was a respected citizen (who could vouch for Charlie's character, if needed).
Charlie knew the freshly-dug grave would be a magnet for the youngsters. He would let them start eating, drinking and telling stories and then come out of his cottage to 'find' them.
As the shadows across the graveyard lengthened, Charlie took his mug of percolated, black coffee into his front room and settled in the old overstuffed armchair by the curtains. He opened the window, as he would hear the kids before he would be able to see them.
In earlier years, kids had actually driven into the cemetery. Charlie had gone out and warned them off. But the kids had gotten smarter as the years went by. Several years ago, Charlie had to start locking the gates at sundown. After that the kids came over the wall. And so it had been for at least a decade.
He heard whispers and quiet laughing. "Did anyone check the old man's place," a young man asked. Another one chuckled and answered, "Dim lights in the cottage. But he's gotta be asleep. He's like ... ancient." A third voice piped up, "Well, we just don't want a repeat of last year."
Charlie nodded, hearing every word.
"JACKPOT," the first voice whisper-shouted, "Lookie here! A fresh grave!" A couple of female voices said, "Eww...," which brought a chorus of male laughter. "That's right girls, maybe we'll meet a dead person tonight. Wouldn't that be cool on Hell Night?" That voice made an "oof" sound, like his girlfriend had pushed him in the chest. "Don't worry, Jenny," he said, wrapping his arm around her waist, "I'll keep you safe." "Yeah, but who will keep her safe from YOU," asked another young man. There was a wave of laughter from the group.
Charlie left by the cottage back door, so he could make a wide circle and come upon the group from the yard, as if he were returning home. It took him a while, as it was a big area to cover. Once or twice he wanted to rest a little, but his plan and little Taco kept him going. When he reached the last bushes before the group, he picked up his wheelbarrow and sauntered upon the group.
The startled teens jumped up from the ground, leaving bags and cans and wrappers on the ground. Charlie scowled. The group was about to run off, when Charlie called after them, "Hey, you don't have to leave. Just clean up after yourself when you are done, OK? I don't think there's a kid that grew up in this town that hasn't spent some time in the yard telling stories around Halloween, myself included.
The kids stopped and looked at each other, unsure of what to do. One of the boys tried to pocket an open beer. "I don't even care about your drinking beer, so long as you don't get behind the wheel of a car afterwards. Tell me you have a designated driver." One of the males raised an index finger in the air. Charlie nodded and said, "Good man."
The group wandered back to the grave, laughing and taunting each other for being startled.
Charlie came around the wheelbarrow and sat down on bags of potting soil he had placed there earlier. "So, what are the good stories this year," he asked the teens. "No offense, Charlie," Charlie recognized the speaker as his friend's son, "but we wouldn't want to scare you to death." Charlie looked directly at Derek, "Son, you know I was in your father's squad in the Marines. You know some of the things we saw and did. I don't get scared. I MAKE people scared." He winked at Derek. A couple of the girls pulled closer to their dates.
"All right, old man," challenged John Butler, high-school basketball player, "Tell us something. But what are you going to give us when you fail to scare the pants off us?" Charlie raised an eyebrow and turned to look at John. "Johnny," Charlie smiled. John winced, "I've already done something for you by not confiscating your beer. Question is, what are you going to give me when I DO scare the daylights out of you?" John smirked.
Everyone settled down and looked expectantly at Charlie. He went around the circle of six couples and looked into the eyes of each person before he began. "Well, you obviously noticed the new grave here." They all nodded. Charlie paused a moment before continuing, "You remember the little dog that was found here last year?", he asked the group. There were a couple of "yeahs" and nods.
"Well," Charlie continued, "We didn't find out who owned him, so I buried him in the yard over by my cottage." There were more nervous looks amongst the young people. "Well, apparently the owner had a change of heart when she died and came forward, as it were. It's her hole we're sitting around right now. She also apparently knew that I had taken care of Taco and left a generous donation to the cemetery fund."
Every eye was on the caretaker.
Charlie related, "Her one request was that Taco be reburied with her. His box is around here somewhere." Charlie got up and began to walk around amongst the teens. He feigned shock when he saw the open box laying on it's side. "What have you done with Taco," he shouted? Derek came to his side, saying "Nothing, honest Charlie, it was that way when we got here."
Picking up the box, Charlie emotionally stated, "But Taco was in here." The teens closest got up and walked around to the other side of the grave, and Charlie felt like he was giving a performance. "And I know his skeleton did not just get up and walk away. Where did you put him. This isn't funny now." Every word out of his mouth grew sterner and his gaze turned to a glare.
He started around the grave and the kids started moving away from him. Suddenly, a little teacup chihuahua came scampering across the yard from the direction of Charlie's cottage. He sniffed around the little box and stood up on Charlie's leg, tail wagging expectantly. Charlie scooped up the little bundle, and greeted, "Well, hello Mr. Taco."
Charlie turned Mr. Taco to face the kids and held the lantern up in front of the dog's face, which made his eyes glow and unearthly yellow and accentuated the little breaths steaming in the night air. It also caused him to growl. The kids couldn't get out o there fast enough.
Charlie put Mr. Taco in the wheelbarrow and headed home, smiling.
