Cherry Blend

I WAS SITTING in the round corner booth to the left of the door in Doreen’s 24 HR Eat Gas Now Café with Wrong Willie when Delbert P. Axelrod got out of his truck. We’d been fishing, and he was the last one to arrive at Doreen’s for lunch.

Fishing with Delbert has always been an adventure; this day was no exception. He’d hooked himself, Doc, and his own soft tackle box. Lucky for him, the hook’s bite hadn’t penetrated Doc’s forearm past the barb.

Delbert passed a lady in the parking lot with one of those little cotton ball dogs, picking up her FiFi’s poop with what looked like a tissue or napkin.

Doc grunted, absently rubbing the puncture wound in his arm. “Maybe we’d have done better by using that little dog as a lure.”

Delbert sneezed big as he approached through the door. The lady dropped the warm little packet into her voluminous purse, dug around for a second, then handed him a fresh tissue from one of those little travel packs from her purse.

He took it, thanked her, and came inside. There was something different when he came through the door, and then we realized Delbert had effected a pipe.

Wrong Willie picked a fish scale off his hand, stopping when his eyes widened at the sight. “I loved smoking a pipe.”

“No smoking in here!”

I glanced up to see Doreen behind the counter, pointing a finger at Delbert, who held the door for the stuffy-looking woman with the dog in her arms. Doreen glared at the little animal baring its teeth at her. “No dogs allowed.”

“It’s my service dog.” The woman we’ll call Jane turned so we could all see a frilly little vest with the word. Emotional Support Dog on the side.

I started to open my mouth again when Doreen interrupted. “You have to hold it, then. I don’t want dogs running around the café.” With that, she turned the Hairy Eyeball on Wrong Willie. “And I don’t want to see any smoke coming from that nasty little burner, either.”

Willie held up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t say I wanted to smoke it, and besides, tell him. It’s not my pipe.”

She swung those Eye Lasers onto Delbert who bit down on the pipe. “It ain’t lit. I’m just sucking on this cherry tobacco because I love how it tastes and smells.”

Willie leaned over and whispered. “I’m already Jonesing for a real puff.”

Willie’s fought a continuing battle with nicotine since I first met him about forty years ago. He’s moved from cigs when we were much younger, to cigars, then chewing tobacco, Copenhagen, and those little packets.

He quit chewing the first time when his daughter who was about two years old saw a half-full Coke bottle sitting beside his chair. Thinking his spit bottle was Coca Cola, she took a big ol’ drink and spent the next couple of hours puking all over the house while Wrong Willie suffered his wife’s wrath that truly hasn’t subsided until this day.

Pipe stem clamped in his teeth, Delbert slid into the opposite side of the booth and we shifted to make room, putting Willie in the middle. I was the first to take the plunge. “What’s that all about?”

“I always liked the way cherry tobacco tastes, and the other day I found Dad’s old pipe-stand out in the barn. There were a couple of these still in it, so I picked up some tobacco.”

“I remember fishing with dad while he smoked his pipe. Those trips are great memories, even when we weren’t catching anything, because I love that smell on the wind.”

Wrong Willie leaned forward. “Lemme smell it.”

Delbert produced the pouch and turned his head to sneeze. I handed him a napkin at the same time Willie opened the pouch and took a deep sniff. “Ahhhhh.”

Another sneeze built, and Delbert laid the pipe on the table. He turned his head. “AAAAchoooo!”

The dog in Jane’s arms barked and Doreen’s head swelled. “You better be sneezing into your arm.”

Delbert’s eyes watered and I knew he was about to go on one of his jags. His top number was 26 consecutive sneezes.

“I won’t count the one outside,” I said. “One.”

Another violent sneeze. The dog barked again.

“Two.”

Delbert built the Sneeze Face. I waited with glee until it erupted. “Three.”

It was then I noticed Willie fiddling with the tobacco pouch. He pulled out some of the cherry blend and tucked it into his cheek. “Man, that tastes good.”

Sneeze!

“Four. Hey, you can’t chew pipe tobacco.”

“Sure I can. Had an uncle who used to buy Cotton Boll twist, and shave it into his pipe when he wanted to smoke it, then chew the rest.” He paused as the nicotine rushed to his head. “Wow! Gnarly.”

Sneeze!

Bark!

Then came a long line of consecutive explosions. “Five, six, seven…eighteen….nineteen.”

Doreen had finally had enough when she saw a pile of napkins in front of him. “Delbert, go outside and finish, and Jane, you need to take that dog out, too.”

“Well, I never!” Tears welling, she gathered her little dog and stood up. Her purse fell open on the table, spilling its contents.

Sneeze!

Bark.

“Twenty.”

We were getting close to a record. “Delbert, I think you’re allergic to pipe tobacco. Take another sniff.”

High on his first nicotine rush in five years, Willie slipped the pipe into his shirt pocket and howled as Delbert stood and sneezed a juicy one again. Delbert started for the door at the same time the little dog jumped from Jane’s arms and growled a warning whirr. It charged, and Delbert dodged the evil little animal.

Sneeze!

“Twenty-one!”

Bark.

Eyes watering from another building sneeze, Delbert rushed past Jane’s table. There were no napkins in the holder, but he saw a wadded tissue beside her spilled purse. Snatching it up, he stuck it against his nose, and sneezed again…

“Twenty-two!”

…and the contents of the little dog’s previous deposit pressed through the tissue and into his nose and spilled onto the table.

I put my chin on one hand to watch the next act as Doreen’s red face swelled like a balloon. “Bet that doesn’t smell like Cherry Blend.”

 

Email Reavis Wortham at ContactUs@fishgame.com

 

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