There was a trickle of blood. The tip of the blade punctured Merril’s neck. Had he not yelped when the sword was less than an inch away, there would have been no injury.
“My friend,” Merril cried, slowly raising his hands so he wouldn’t brush against the sword. “If you want me to leave, just tell me so, but please don’t hurt me anymore.”
I pulled the sword back a hair, giving him room to tend to the puncture wound.
“You’re a weirdo,” I said, immediately remembering how terrible my apologies can be. “Knocking on people’s doors in the middle of the night. What are you thinking?”
“It’s the wolf, my friend,” Merril sighed, pointing beyond the front door. “I thought it was someone’s puppy limping down the road. Didn’t take me long to realize it was a wolf pup, lost and injured. It came onto your property, collapsed on your porch, and here I am. Simple.”
“No, you’re creepy.” I raised the sword a few inches above his puncture wound. “You need to leave. I’ll wait for animal control.”
“But the wolf pup…” Merril protested.
“Assume it’ll be fine,” I interrupted, shuffling toward the front door, the sword still aimed at his neck.
When I opened the door, I looked down.
“The wolf pup…it’s gone.”
“What?” Merril shoved the sword aside and stood beside me.
We looked at one another in disbelief before walking outside together, like two old friends leaving a bar.
“It must have scampered off into the woods,” I said.
“I hope it’ll be okay,” Merril replied. He took a few deep breaths before hobbling over to his beat-up pickup truck at the end of the driveway.
“Please never come back,” I hollered.
Merril paused. He took a few steps toward me and said, “You just never know when our paths will cross again.”
He winked, climbed into his truck, started the tired engine, backed out, and drove away.
When animal control arrived, I explained that the wolf pup had wandered off. We exchanged a few pleasantries, and I went back to bed.
During the nights that followed, I purposely woke in the middle of the night and stepped onto the porch, listening for any sign of the wolf pup.
Silence.
It was peaceful. Just me, a soft breeze, and the night sky.
Then I thought about Merril and his puncture wound. Did it heal? Would he ever come back? Should I apologize for raising a sword at him?
The questions stayed with me.
One morning, I’d had enough. I drove into town and stopped at the Chamber of Commerce to ask about Merril the plumber.
Nobody had ever heard of a plumber by that name.
I described him, but everyone looked at me as though I’d lost my mind.
With nothing left to investigate, I stopped at a greasy spoon diner for lunch.
The food rushed through me.
As I left the restroom, I noticed the kitchen door had been propped open just a crack.
Curiosity got the better of me.
I took three steps inside.
Something moved in the back.
A heavyset, balding man wearing a chef’s coat was scrubbing the griddle. He must have heard me because he turned around.
It was Merril.
A bandage wrapped around his neck.
“Sorry… I thought you were a plumber,” I almost said.
Instead, he grinned, gave me a thumbs-up, winked, and returned to scrubbing the griddle.
Whoever Merril was, I decided to put him out of my mind.
That proved nearly impossible.
Wherever I went, there he was.
Working as a bank teller.
A security guard.
A baker.
A gas station attendant.
He haunted my dreams.
Even when I was alone with my thoughts, his voice would suddenly take over.
I thought moving away and heading across the country would finally get rid of him.
Not the case.
It’s clear now that I have only one choice.
Time to befriend this creep.
