Lee was up and running early that next Saturday morning. He had to get the mess in the garage cleaned up, the results of Bobby’s "experiment". Third Law of Thermodynamics, indeed. Yeah, sure. Did the kid really think he could fool the old man? Huh? Lee had found the recipe still sitting on the workbench, miraculously unscathed. Bobby was grounded, (not that he ever went anywhere), but Lee also sentenced Bobby to no internet access for an indeterminate time. If Bobby was sufficiently contrite and helped Lee fix up and repaint the garage, then perhaps his sentence could be softened. A little.
Not once, but several times over the past week Lee asked the question, "What in hell were you thinking, son?"
Bobby’s answer was always the same. "Sorry Dad, I just wasn’t thinking," leaving it at that. He had to make amends though, so today he was the very picture of exuberant helpfulness. "Here, Dad, let me help you." and "I can lift that."
"OK, Bobby," said Lee with stern abruptness, at around nine o’clock. "I’m going to walk down the street to Chuck Worth’s to pick up the mower. While I’m gone I want you to clean the floor and mop it good. When that’s done you’re going to start cutting the lawn."
"OK, Dad, I’m on it."
Ten minutes later, Lee walked up the red flagstones to the two story yellow brick house, the Worth residence. Chuck sat on the shady front porch steps, squinting at his mail through wire rimmed reading glasses.
"Morning, Lee, How’s all?"
"Great. I’m gonna grab my mower and put that boy of mine on it today, work him a bit."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah. I guess you didn’t hear. Last Sunday Bobby tried to make some kind of explosive in the garage and damned near blew him and me away. It was loud as hell and the neighbors called the cops. They were here asking questions for a couple of hours, and it was all I could do to persuade them that I had everything under control. It made the evening TV news."
"Damn, sorry I missed it all. I hardly catch anything except national news. I can’t stand local TV."
"Chuck, let me tell you, Bobby probably won’t think about doing anything like this again."
Chuck grinned. "Whip his ass good?"
"No, but he’s gonna be doing a lot of physical labor and staying at home for the rest of the summer."
Chuck stood up and moved into the sun. "C’mon Lee, I’ll get the mower and walk home with you. I want to see your garage and with your permission, talk to Bobby. By the way, what’s that nasty looking thing on your head?"
"Well," replied Lee, "Bobby’s so-called bomb recipe did this. Some of it blew onto me. Feels like a sunburn and itches like hell." Just thinking about it made Lee’s scalp itch even more. He reached up to rub the angry red splotch. It felt rough and scratchy, like his chin with two days stubble. Like an unshaven face, ....like ..... like ......what the hell?
"Chuck, look at my head. What does the burn look like?"
Chuck raised his reading glasses from his nose, walked back into the shade and peered closely at the top of Lee’s head.
"Looks like roadburn, like you had a biking accident and weren’t wearing a brainbucket."
"Listen Chuck, I know this sounds funny, but is there hair growing out of it?"
Chuck eyeballed Lee’s scalp, up close. "Yeah, looks like it’s covered with little brown whiskers."
‘Holy shit.’ thought Lee, brain tumbling.
The men trudged toward Lee’s place, Lee pushing the mower and Chuck carrying the gas can. Through the gate and up the walk toward Bobby, who was mopping the garage floor with exaggerated industriousness. Bobby paused.
"Hello, Mr. Worth."
"Hi, Bobby." Chuck looked over Bobby’s shoulder into the garage. "Say, I heard you tried to burn down the house."
"Uhh, yessir,..sort of. One of my experiments went haywire."
"Yeah, your Dad told me all about it. You take care, OK?"
"OK, thanks."
Chuck turned to leave, then turned back, brows knitted, face stern. "Oh, and Bobby, if you decide to build another explosive device, come on over to my house first. I’ll show you some of my old war photos, so you can see what bombs do to human beings,"
"Bobby," said Lee, "Go get your mom and have her say hi to Chuck."
Linda was a graceful, slim woman, blond hair swept up in a bun, a few strands tickling her neck. Lee loved her. Even after fourteen anniversaries, Lee felt a weakness in his knees and a lump in his chest when her sweet eyes bathed his face. Lee was a lucky man and he knew and appreciated it. His heart and life was full with Linda, and he would die for her.
"Hi, Chuck."
"Hi, Linda, How you been?"
"Good as we can be. Guess you know about our little incident."
"Yes, Lee told me all about it." I’ve got stuff to do, a couple of friends to meet. See you later."
"See you, Chuck."
Lee gave Bobby his marching instructions for the afternoon, then went in the house, directly into the master bath and looked at his scalp in the mirror, rubbing his palms over the now-distinct stubble.
"Linda! Come here!"
"What is it, Sweetie?"
"Look at my head. Feel it."
She brushed her cool fingertips over the now stubbly burn. "It feels like your face when you need a shave. Honey, it looks like you’re sprouting some hair."
"This is crazy," said Lee. "I’ve got to get to a doctor. Now!"
