Chapter Twenty Six

By Chris Fulmer

"Wow, this is a great room!" Del said, looking with awe around the six-room suite they'd landed, "I've never been in anything this big before."

"I get a room to myself," Neal said quickly. He wasn't going to end up in another compromising position this time. Luckily, their suite had a private hallway, so he hadn't had to suffer the indignity of standing in the lobby in his underwear while his clothes were being washed.

"I got dibs on the TV," Del bounded in the rec area and flicked on the big screen television there, "it's almost time for the Grinch."

"Aren't we a little old to be watching that?" Nancy said rather smugly.

"Nah, you're never too old for the Grinch," Del said, lifting his legs up on the sofa. "I've been watching it since the year it came out. Ever since I got married, it was a tradition for Marie and me. I remember my boss always let me off work for the holidays, and we'd light a fire in the fireplace and turn on CBS. I have no idea why they ever let the rights to the special expire. Anyway, it was always a thrill..."

"Well I'm sure it must be breaking your wife's heart for you not to be there to watch it with her this year," Nancy looked upset at the fact Del now had the television for a show she didn't like.

"Actually Miss Vickerella," Del's face contorted with deep pain, "Marie died of breast cancer nine years ago."

"Oh I'm sorry," Nancy said, not sounding sorry at all. "Well, you go watch your crap; I've got to take a shower."

"Good idea," Neal whispered to her. He knew from experience how Del tended to mess up hotel bathrooms whenever he used them. Once his ex-flame had disappeared into the bathroom, he turned to the salesman and asked, "It was breast cancer?" Del had never told him the exact cause of Marie's death.

"Yeah," Del nodded, fighting hard to keep back tears, "and it was at Christmas, too. You have no idea how hard it is, watching the most important person of your life wasting away before your eyes. It took me a year and a half to really start getting over it."

He got up, walked over to the bar, poured himself a bacardi, and drained it. "I remember the last time I saw her," he continued, "she was already going under, and she needed air to survive from all the chemotherapy she'd gone through, and she looked up at me with those sunken, drained eyes, and told me, 'Del Griffith, just remember that no matter where you go, and no matter what life brings you, I'll always be there with you, whether you can feel me or not.' I broke down so hard at that the nurse had to take me outside. The next time I saw her it was at her funeral." He took a deep breath. "And you know what, ever since, whenever I've felt down, I've felt her presence around me, almost as if she's me guardian angel."

"Really?" Neal had never really thought of Del as a spiritual man.

"Yeah," Del told him, "I felt her with me last Thanksgiving when you were screaming at me that my stories were boring and that being with me was like going on a date with a Chatty Cathy doll."

"What did Marie do for a living?" Clark asked as he tried to light a fire in the fireplace.

"She was a kindergarten teacher in the Seattle Public School District," Del told him, "She loved..."

"Hold it, hold it," Neal galloped over to where Clark was kneeling, "let me do it! You'll burn the whole hotel down!"

"Neal, I am quite capable of...!" Clark began, but Neal snatched the matches off him before he could do anything more. "Let an expert show you how to do it!" he said, striking the match...only it didn't light. "What's the story here!?" he muttered, striking it again and again without any luck.

"Maybe they got soaked in the river after we crashed," Del suggested, lighting up another cigarette without any problems.

"I don't think they'd have..." it was now that Neal managed to get the match lighted, but at that moment it slipped out of his hands and ignited the holly surrounding the fireplace. "Whoa, geez!" he gasped, stamping it out with his foot, but only managing to yank it off the fireplace and set the carpeting on fire.

"Yep Neal, you're a real expert on getting fires started," Clark said with a wry smile. He Russian-danced over the burning rug (complete with loud "Heys!") until it was out. Taking the matches from Neal, he struck one and lit up the fireplace without any problem.

"How's that?" he asked wryly. Neal glared at him in embarrassment.

"Oh here comes my favorite part!" Del exclaimed giddily as he watched the Grinch and Max rocket down Mount Krumpet, "Here we go, loop-the-loop,...hi boss, look, no gravity...OH MY GOD, WE'RE OFF THE GROUND!!!...get off me you mangy mutt! Get...will you stop...come on now..."

"Will you keep it down out there!?" Nancy screamed from inside the bathroom. Del ignored her. "All their windows were dark, no one knew he there," he continued, reciting Boris Karloff's narration word for word, "All the Whos were all sleeping sweet dreams without care. When he..."

"Seems like you've seen it every year," Clark commented, tossing some more logs onto the fire and nearly breaking them against the brick back wall.

"Yep, I guess you could say I have," Del said, puffing hard on his cigarette. "The things is though, Clark, that it just doesn't seem the same nowadays with it airing about six times a month on several networks. It was a lot better to enjoy back in the old days when you could expect one big airing every year on CBS."

"But now you get to enjoy it more often, isn't that good?" Clark posed.

"I guess you could look at it that way, but still too much of a good thing devalues it in my opinion," Del said. "It's the same with The Wizard of Oz. Back when I was growing up in Seattle, it was a neighborhood event when they aired it every year. I remember every kid on the block would all gather at Marty Knellman's and..."

"Who?" Neal asked.

"Old buddy of mine, he works for Bank of America in Portland now," Del told him. "Anyway, we'd all go over there and watch it on his TV--he was the only guy around to have a color set then--and his mom would bake refreshments for all of us, and for just three hours out of our lives, we'd all be on the same level taking that trip down the Yellow Brick Road: boys, girls, rich, poor, popular, outcast; we'd all be there singing along with the music, screaming whenever the Witch popped up, wishing along with Dorothy at the end to go back to Kansas when we'd all wish she'd stay in Oz..." He sighed. "Oh boy, sometimes I wish I could have those days back again. No worries, no pressures, no bills to pay, no traveling from city to city, no worrying about how you're going to pay for food and lodging every night...for one brief, shining moment, I was in Camelot growing up. But anyway--I'm just rambling on here again--after the networks let the Turner networks have the rights to the picture, they air it too much and it takes the thrill out of seeing it."

"I can see you're still a child at heart Del," Neal commented. He looked out the window at downtown Dayton. "No sign of them anywhere; I guess they're still looking outside the city for us," he said. "Hopefully we'll be able to get out of Ohio tomorrow without them seeing us and back to Chicago before that big snowstorm they're calling for hits; how much are they calling for again in the Chicago area again, Del?"

"Last check, twenty to twenty-four inches," Del told him. "I'd to make a brief stop at the Rolling Green Rest Home in Indianapolis before we head for Chicago, though."

"Why?"

"My Dad lives there now."

"Your father?" Neal frowned; Del had never mentioned anything about his parents still being alive before.

"Yeah, it's been a while since I saw him last; not since Marie died, actually," Del said, looking still more nostalgic for a time that no longer was. "Anyway, I think it's time I give John a buzz and see if he got in all right from school."

"He still even goes to school?" Clark asked, surprised.

"Yes Clark, and he does so quite willingly," Del said in defense of his stepson.

"Hmm," Clark seemed disappointed, "I had twenty dollars going that he'd have been expelled by tenth grade. After he took all of Russ's allowance in seventh grade, I pressed the school board to ax him, but they didn't listen and..."

"Shhhh!" Del gestured at him. He dialed his own number. It was answered by an unfamiliar person. "Who is it?" he asked the salesman.

"Uh, I...I could ask you the same question?" Del said, confused. He could hear loud music roaring in the background and knew something was happening at his house that was usually not of his approval. "Is John Bender in by any chance?" he asked, "I really like to have a word with him."

"One minute," the person on the other end said.

"So what's he doing now, reenacting Disco Demolition Night at Comiskey at your place?" Neal asked sarcastically, having seen the befuddled look on his friend's face.

"I don't know, but..." Del was interrupted as Bender came on the phone.

"Yes!?" he asked, clearly irritated about being disturbed again.

"Uh, John, it's me; what exactly's going on at our house?" Del asked him.

"I really don't think that's any of your damn concern, Delbert," Bender told him curtly.

"Well I do own the house, John, and I think I should know what's going on within it," Del said in an overly polite tone.

"Yeah, well, your not here, so I don't think you need to," Bender countered.

"Uh...well...um..." Del was at a loss on how to respond to this shot.

"Oh and by the way, don't hurry home at all, Delbert, it's really good not having you here to mess the place up all the time and drive me up the wall all the time," Bender continued. "In fact, don't come home at all. Now if you don't mind, I'm really busy right now."

"No but, John, wait, I'd like..." Del protested, but the line went dead. "He hung up on me!" he said in shock to the others.

"Well, DUUHHHHHH!!!!" Neal shrugged in irritation.

"Uh, while you're on the phone there, Del, could you give my place a buzz and tell them I'm OK?" Clark asked him.

"Why me?" Del asked him.

"Oh, just in case they're still mad at me, I'd just like someone who can take heat as well as you can to take it," Clark told him.

Del shrugged. "Okay, but I think you should take the responsibility yourself," he said, dialing the Griswolds' number. It rang for barely a tick when it was answered.

"Hello?" asked the old woman on the other end, "Is this Mercer's Pimps 'R' Us?"

"What!?" Del asked, stunned. He turned to Clark. "Have you been going to Pimps 'R' Us?" he asked him.

"Oh that's just Aunt Bethany," Clark told him, "Just ignore her; she's halfway to heaven already."

"Oh," Del turned back to the line. "Hi, can I talk to Ellen?" he asked.

"You're Dr. Lleuyelyn?"

"Jesus Bethany, who the hell is it?" demanded a crabby voice on the other end.

"Let me take it," said another male voice. "Who is it?" this new man asked Del.

"I'm, uh, Del Griffith, I'm an old friend of Clark's, who's this?"

"Art Simmons, I'm the father-in-law, although hopefully not for much longer. So that jerkoff's still alive?"

"Uh yeah, the jerkoff...I mean, Clark's still alive. He was frozen pretty good, though," Del admitted. "Would you like to talk with him?"

"No, but give him this message: 'You go burn in hell, you flea-bitten, foul-mouthed, brain-dead son of a...!'"

Del held the receiver away from himself as Art went through his obscenity-filled tirade against his son-in-law. "Yep, I'd say they're still mad at you," he said to Clark.

"Listen, uh, can you get Ellen on the line, please," he said to Art.

"She's not talking to him yet, either!" Art told him.

"Yeah, well, uh, I'd, uh, like to talk to her personally," Del said.

Art sighed. "Give me a minute," he said. Del could hear heated discussion going on in the Griswold kitchen. Finally, Ellen came on the phone. "Yes?" she asked.

"Hi Ellen, it's Del, and I'd..." Del began.

"Oh my God, you're still alive!?" Ellen gasped.

"Yeah," Del frowned. "Why, did they say we were dead?"

"Well the news report said that everybody on board the plane was killed, and I didn't expect..." Ellen seemed shaken somewhat by the fact she was talking to a presumed dead person. "And when Susan came by last night I..."

"Susan was there? Where is she now, 'cause Neal...?"

"Put me on," Neal whispered to him.

"Right," Del handed him the phone. "Here's Neal," he told Ellen in parting.

"Hi Ellen, when did Susan drop by?" Neal asked once he'd gotten hold of the receiver.

"Last night, after she'd heard the report," Ellen told him. "She was completely broken down, thinking you were dead. How did you and Del survive?"

"Uh, it's a really long story, and I'd really not get into it right now," Neal said. "So where's Susan now? I've been calling home for the last 24 hours and nobody's called me back?"

"Oh she went up to her parents' house to mourn," Ellen told him, "but I don't think you'll be able to call her for another day or so. Their phone bill hasn't been paid in a while."

"Damn!" Neal swatted at the air, realizing how tardy his in-laws usually were in paying their bills these days. "Well, thanks Ellen, that really clears things up for me," he told her. "We should all be back in Chicago tomorrow so you can expect Sparky around five, I guess."

The line unexpectedly went dead. "Hello?" Neal pressed down on the receiver buttons several times, but there was no response. He put down the receiver.

"Hey, I wanted to talk to her!" Clark protested.

"Well she's obviously still ticked at you, and from what you called her several days ago, I don't blame her," Neal told him bluntly. "To be completely honest, I'm surprised she's even still married to you after everything you've put her through over the years, dating all the way back to when you went and shot Walt Disney."

"After he went and WHAT!!??" Del exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was just before we graduated from high school; Walt was the keynote speaker at the dedication of the Angelican Theater over on Walnut Street that the whole high school had tickets to go see," Neal explained to him. "This was in his later years, and you could tell his health was declining, but anyway, Sparky here had just gotten out of the hospital and wanted to go, but they were all out of tickets and the Walt Disney Company told him after he called them and pleaded them to help him that they couldn't get him to it, so what does he do? He goes out and buys a gun and hides on the theater's roof until the festivities start, and then when Walt's halfway through his speech, he somersaults down onto the podium, yells, 'Walt Disney, I watch your movies, buy your products, and go to your parks, and what the hell do you do; you leave me out in the cold!,' and plugs Disney in the leg. It was only because his father spent five hours with Disney telling him his son's mentally deranged that Sparky got off, and Ellen nearly broke off the engagement. It was a perfect dress rehearsal for what he did seven years ago at Walleyworld."

Del stared blankly at Clark. "You shot Walt Disney!?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Yes, and you don't need to announce it to the whole world," Clark said uncomfortably.

But Del wasn't listening. He lumbered listlessly toward one of the two bedrooms, looking shocked and saying, "He shot Walt Disney!" to nobody in particular over and over again. Even after he absentmindedly closed the door behind himself, he could still be heard saying the phrase from inside the room.

"Well thank you Neal; I've spent almost a quarter of a century trying to forget the most embarrassing moment of my life, and you have to bring it up for a whole new generation to hear about," Clark said sarcastically.

"Oh he was bound to hear about it eventually; I was just saving him the suspense," Neal retorted.

"Well you've successfully managed to...why won't this stupid fly leave me alone!?" Clark swatted at the air around him, "It's been after me since we got in here!"

"Well just let it go; it's not going to kill you," Neal told him.

"You're right, it's not going to kill me, I'll, uh,...I'll just go lay down for a bit," Clark started to walk away nonchalantly, then in a swift motion grabbed the newspaper off the nearby coffee table, rolled it up, and took a large swing at the fly. He missed it, but did manage to hit one of the light fixtures one the wall, blowing it--and with a loud crackle of electricity, every other light in the room--out. "Uh, you want to read the paper, Neal?" he asked his friend sheepishly in the darkness.

"GET OVER HERE!" Neal began chasing Clark around the room, tripping over the furniture in the darkness.