His One Weakness
In The Thanksgiving Afterglow of The Sterling Household...
Call it the spirit of the season, in both the Happy Thanksgiving I hope all my American readers enjoyed yesterday, but in the Christmas and holiday seasons we’re now all embarking on, I couldn’t find a place to break this one for a paywall. Sometimes, there’s just a slice of life that has to be shared with one and all. I’m making the executive decision of releasing this for FREE, and will sort out an Emergency Ration next month for our wonderful paid subscribers.
In lieu of that traditional monetization, I encourage readers new to the series, or those wishing to support us, to check out the Black Friday/Cyber Monday Based Book Sale, in which all our eBooks are $0.99 each. While new and touched-up editions are still racing down the pike, your purchase of our current range helps us reinvest into making the best books, audio shows, comics and more possible at true-blue pulp prices. Ctrl+F is your friend this year, because has jam-packed this bazaar of independent literary entertainment to numbers I haven’t seen in ages. Look for us with that search function, and don’t forget to support some of the many friends of the Force also on sale. Thanks again for all your support, and please enjoy a slightly belated Thanksgiving special.
“Coulda been worse” was Jane Sterling’s consensus about the first, full Thanksgiving with Buck, both kids, and the cavalcade of family that came over. It was more the stress that all meal prep and production than anything said that day. The entourage of rust-bucket pickups and dusted sedans all hid two families, one red and one gray, dressed in the finest denim and leather they owned. Jane’s pack, the red-furred Swansons and Buck’s, the gray Sterlings.
The Swansons were your average desert family, with all the usual quirks and conversation-starters. Her two sisters, Harriet and Mel, were in from their clerking work, and delighted in Jane being part of the married fold. She was always puzzled as to why now was when it all clicked, until Mel chimed in.
“‘Cuz it’s the whole package, silly!” she grinned. “A good man, at least two pups, you got it all!”
“But why two?”
Harriet chimed in with the morbid answer. “‘Cuz we’re back in the old-days where the brood’s gotta be big so if a kid dies, it ain’t the end.”
A chill rushed down Jane’s spine, one Mel was quick to soothe. “That’s just nature, sweetie, ain’t nothin’ happening now. Not the way you been protectin’.”
The siblings helped her refocus and tended to setting the table.
Meanwhile, the living room was a convention floor. In one corner, all the brother-in-laws were chopping it up. To Mel’s black-furred beau Randy and Harriet’s red cowboy William, Buck was a particularly fascinating specimen. They couldn’t believe half the wild stories he told, let alone the fact he dressed like a wave-pool surfer for half of them. And yet, with each earnest-eyed account, they grew more and more entranced, and began sharing their own escapades.
In the circle of love seats, sofas, and reclining chairs, the patriarchs and matriarchs of both families entertained the kids.
Jane’s father and stepmother were at complete ease, happy all had worked out with the muscle-bound stranger, and to add two more pups to their ever-growing family tree. It had taken at least two Thanksgivings and three Christmases before the stout Poppa Don Swanson got over “the mutts they all made,” a phrase Jane’s slim stepmother quipped “sounded like a cheap soap opera.”
The Sterlings, however, were just too much. Katie and Mark Sterling were a short gray couple, gentle and growing thin with age; the complete opposite of their Herculean son. And yet, every child in the house was wrapped around their fingers, as the couple spun manic tales of mountain-climbing, gang-fighting, and law-bringing.
Buck was always coy about his folks with Jane. “Just cool characters who brought me up right.” he’d always say. What he never elaborated on, and what Jane had to learn from swatches of conversations, was that old Mark Sterling was an original Ascensore. The Sterling name was revered among the league of rough-riding lawmen founded by the great General L.F. Godred himself. He never made it out like he was the Hound in Black’s right-hand man, and he hadn’t followed him into the war effort, but the adventures he and Godred experienced were already more than a lifetime’s worth. And better yet, it become crystal clear who Buck had learned his storytelling abilities from.
“Me an’ ol’ Leo were right on their hides, winding that mountain road with one bad turn fixing to kill us all, a good mile-long drop right on the shotgun side! You think we worried? Hell naw! I was out there, shooting hand dangling over the edge, while that tough captain kept his paw flat on the throttle. When that ol’ goat put his boot to the floor, his Fleetline wouldn’t take no guff she couldn’t give. She’s the only machine in all the desert who could ford the River Styx, swear to God, Jesus and the rest of ‘em!” And so he went, the gaggle of multi-colored pups hanging on his every word.
“Why didn’t you tell me!?” Jane guffawed in the kitchen, whipping a hand-towel at her husband’s rear.
“Because I was worried you’d try to run off with him insteada me.” he chuckled, nipping at his red lady’s neck. “Daddy also has a way with ladies. Just ask Momma sometime how they met. Makes us look downright arranged.”
Unfortunately, all the merriment gained through the Sterling Adventure Hour cost them another half. The food sat waiting, ready to be shoveled into dozens of muzzles, only for all to sit agape in the living room. Mark was ripping into an automotive cattle drive, desperately trying to save the kidnapped family in one of the trailers, when Jane finally broke out the oldest trick in the book: the ringing of an old-fashioned triangle.
“We can reconvene after, buckaroos.” Mark smiled, snapping his suspenders.
“Thank God for hot-plates,” grumbled Don as the exodus from living room to dinner table commenced. They brought in every table in from across the house, three in all, to sit their army of pups, couples, and grandparents. In a matter of moments, all fell silent. Not from an awkward mishap, nor an overextended saying of grace, but from the surprise savoring of every wolf, young and old, down the mile-long table. Even Jane was surprised by her own cooking. The only one who didn’t eat yet, was Buck.
“Damn you called it Bucky,” she said obliviously, relishing her own artful “I thought synthing everything would just been fine, but going ingredients-first then doing the rest by hand is fantastic!”
When she looked, she saw that dumb smile on her man’s face; he had been staring at her the whole time. “Anything wrong?” his little red lady asked.
The stocky gray wolf leaned in for a kiss, then a nuzzle. “Just wanted to letcha know how beautiful you look right now…cause after I get done eatin’, I’m gonna be dead to the whole world, fat-n-happy.”
It got a good rise out of the table, especially Buck’s folks. Jane playfully nipped at her man, and nuzzled him back to his plate. Whatever conversation did arise afterwards was little more than the usual “how’s this doing?” and “whaddya think of that on the radio?” And sure enough, after all the turkey was gone, after the pies were doled out and devoured, Buck was out like a light on the couch, both sandaled paws kicked up, with his two brown-furred pups, Junior and Laci, wrapped right around him. The merriment carried on around him, but when Jane walked into the living, a “dumb” grin of her own split her slender snout.
“I didn’t realize he really meant it.” she giggled. “Seen the kids out like a light like that, but ain’t ever dropped him with my cooking.”
“That’s his one weakness, darling,” Katie Sterling grinned. “A real home-cooked meal.” And like any good parent, she had the wallet photos to prove it. A pint-sized Buck, before all the adventures and with a tiny cowboy hat, resting in the lap of old man Mark when he was still young, and still fighting for his ol’ pal Leo.
Not letting a good moment go to waste, the gray grandmother pulled out a pocket polaroid, and snapped a quick shot her son. Once the picture was developed, she wrote on the back: “Full Circle 1. Here’s to many more.”
When Katie handed it to Jane, she did so with one last word of advice: “Black coffee in the morning. He always act like it’s a hangover.” Puzzled at first, she followed through the next day and couldn’t stop laughing when she saw the “miracle cure” in action. From groggy-eyed gray to upright adventurer, all in one sip. That was the moment Thanksgiving became a permanent fixture in the young Sterling household, if for nothing else, than for the laughs that came after.