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Sue K Whalen

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7 point 7 (On the Richter Scale)
by Miller Caldwell

A book for every Muslim and everyone wishing to know about their way of life. The Diary of the Camp Manager at Mundihar following the South Asian Earthquake - October 200..  
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The Three 'Hims'
By Sue K Whalen
Sunday, April 06, 2008

Rated "G" by the Author.

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It is funny, where inspiration cames from, it can be the tinyest thing a moment in time that will get my attention. Once and only once I heard my brother-in-law Gary speak about a couple of lazy guys. He called them Dodge and Doolittle. One guy he said dodges work the other does little. I wrote the following scene I originally called it the 'Three Hims.' When I was writing Rooke's Island I thought these comic characters would be perfect, they were exactly what I needed and fit nicely into- Chapter 4... The Lawyer Who Lives on Dragonfly Lane.


The Three Hims

Margery  entered Messrs Dodge, Doolittle, and Dinky... used furniture store.

The store is a typical second- hand junk store.  Hanging from rafters are pieces of furniture, along with appiances, pictures, sport equipment and clothes. Mounds of  clothing are scatterd in jumbled messes among various bins, bags, and boxes.  Margery is rummaging in through the clothes.  

In the corner, an older man, midway in years, sat comfortabley slumped in a high-backed wooden chair with a soft seat and back.  A macaroni-and-cheese-coloured cat the size of a porcupine lay drooped over the hump of the man's belly.  The man delightfully showed off his coolness by exposing his hairy, bear-like chest.  He was a huge, robust man with a compassionate face like that of a puppydog.  His long jowls were covered with grizzly, day-old stubble that matched his tight, curly black hair.  His name was Hector Dodge.

Behind him stood an elderley man who went by the name of Dickey Doolittle.  Athough it was a hot day in May, he was wrapped from head to toe in a grey camp blanket that was butoned at the top of his neck.  He shivered as he warmed himself by the wood stove. His yellowish, sickly face was partly hidden by grey smoke of the cigarette he puffed on, making one smoke ring after another.  He was a Santa Clause look-alike with fizzy white hair and a bread that reached halfway down his chest.

Mr. Dodge was avoiding work, and old Mr. Doolittle...well, he was doing as little as possible. There names seemed to suit this sloppy. lazy-looking good for nothing pair; Dodge and Doolittle didn't seem to care one way or another. 

Margery, walked over to the two lazy sods of men,  her arms full of garments to buy  she asked,  "Are  you Mr. Dodge?"

"Yes, you are seeing him, I'm him, yes that's me,"  Mr. Dodge said. "And that's Doolittle, " he explained, "That's him all right."

Doolittle raised his eyebrow, speaking throught a smoke ring, he said, "Yes I'm Doolittle you're looking at him....this is me, Doolittle. Please to meet you.

"And who is that on you lap?" asked Margery.

"I'm sorry, this is none other than Mr. Dinky himself! Yep, Mr. Dinky, this  is him, our cat, at  your sevice; he is also part owner of this establishment." said Hector Dodge.  Mr. Dinky looked up with half-closed jade eyes and a sly, contented smile.  

Margery bade them good day, promising to stop by again. These two gents reminded her of Tweedledum and Tweedledee because of their laziness and their odd way of speaking to each other, not to mention the way they referred to themselves and the  cat as him and himself. She giggled to herself, knowing that she would forever refer to these three dipsticks...Dodge, Doolittle, and Dinky... as the three Hims.

The door swung closed behing her with a loud bang.

Margery  was soon off  on her scooter one hand on her new hat and the other on the handle bars. The next right was Dragonfly Lane. 




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Reviewed by Mariann Klimczuk 4/6/2009
I enjoyed this story.

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