Walker vs. The Brady Bunch
Rangers Walker and Trivette have been working on the Blancett case for several months, the case has come to a close as they are now investigating the Blancett home.
As they enter the front door, one of the local officers approaches the rangers, shaking his head.
“Rangers, you better come look at this, you are not going to believe it! This Blancett guy was one sick puppy!”
Walker and Trivette follow the young officer down the stairs, they hear music as they see other officers milling around and pointing towards a wall.
“What the heck is this?” Asks Trivette as he pulls his sunglasses off for a better look.
There before them are pictures galore of a man and a woman and several kids. The pictures are depicted from several stages of the children’s ages, along with a big shaggy dog, and an elderly woman with her hair pulled up in a bun.
Walker stares back at the pictures and then to all of the photo albums lying on an old couch. An old projector is lying dormant, with the remains of an old tape hanging from a ‘reel to reel’.
The music is playing louder as several of the officers are laughing and now singing along with the music.
“Hey, I know that song. It’s from that TV show ‘The Brady Bunch”, replies Trivette as he starts humming along to the music.
Walker shakes his head as he moves forward to the wall and starts looking at all the pictures.
“Who are these people, Trivette”?
As near as I can make out, they’re all the actors from that show---look there’s Mike and Carol and there’s Greg, Bobby, the whole cast even the dog, Tiger! And, heyyyy there’s Alice!”
Walker puts his finger in his ears, “I can’t hear myself think because of that confounded music!”
Trivette is all smiles as he starts singing:
“Here’s the story of a man named Brady-----”
Walker shouts to one of the officers, “Turn that damn radio off---the music is driving me up the wall!”
The music is turned off but several of the officers continue to sing and Trivette joins in.
“And then one day he met this lady---that was busy with three kids of her own.”
“Trivette! For crying out loud---let’s get out of here!”
All the way back to the Ram, Trivette is still singing.
“Can the music Trivette, or you’re going to be walking back to headquarters!”
The black ranger stares back at the bearded one, “Why are you so grumpy? What’s the matter--not getting any?”
“I would like to get home sometime today, is that alright with you?”
Trivette is bouncing around in his seat and still humming the song.
“Did you ever watch that show, Walkman?”
“The Brady Bunch, the one that was plastered all over that wall and in those albums?”
Walker takes a deep sigh, “I might have caught it a time or two---by accident! The show was stupid---why? Don’t tell me that you watched it!”
Trivette shakes his head, “No way---too Ozzie & Harriet” for me--you know---no color! But the song is catchy---kind of stays on your mind. Huh, big guy?”
Walker exhales, “Yeah, like a toothache that won’t go away.”
“You got to admit the show was pretty popular---even though it was rather ‘corny’. All of those kids--his kids---her kids---and I even saw a picture of Sam!”
“Who is Sam?”
You know Alice’s boyfriend!”
“Who the heck is Alice?”
“She was the maid; she helped to take care of the six kids!”
“They had six kids?”
“Three boys, three girls! The boys were his, she had the girls!”
“Alice had the girls?”
“No Walkman!!! You really didn’t see the show, did you?”
“I told you I didn’t, Trivette! And, would you please stop humming that song---it’s driving me crazy!”
“O.k, ok---I can’t help it, it just keeps running through my mind. Why are you so tense?”
“I want to get home, I know that Alex is working in the nursery and I’ve told her time after time that I don’t want her climbing up on any ladders. But, I just know that she is! She’s bound and determined to get those new curtains up! I don’t want her falling and hurting herself or the baby. Now, do you understand why I want to get home?”
The ride back to headquarters is spent with Trivette telling Walker about certain episodes of the show.
Walker is fighting the impulse to pull the Ram over and shove Trivette out along I-30. They finally pull up to headquarters and Trivette is still giving a ‘blow by blow’ description.
“Trivette, for someone that didn’t watch the show, you sure know a lot about it!”
“Well, I lied---I did watch it several times when I was studying my plays routine for the Cowboys!”
Trivette is still singing the song louder and louder as he makes his way to his little Mustang.
The Ram pulls down the long gravel road leading up to the ranch house. Walker looks out over the rolling green pasture, he takes a deep breath.
“Home---home sweet home---nothing like the smell of coming home.”
As he pulls up to the house he sees the furniture truck delivering the new baby furniture that he and Alex picked out just a few weeks before. He smiles at the thought that ‘parenthood’ is just a few weeks away.
He then sees his beloved pinto trotting up to him, wanting to be petted.
Walker laughs as he reaches out to embrace the horse.
“What’s the matter old boy, feeling a little neglected? Are you getting a little jealous knowing that there’s a change in the air and the coming of a new ‘little person’? You don’t have to worry; I’m not going to forget about you. I’ll come out in a little while and we’ll go for a ride, how’s that?”
The horse whinnies and shakes his head up and down.
Walker laughs and points towards the barn.
“Now, go lock yourself up---you know you’re not supposed to be out.”
“Amigo” snorts and then trots back to the corral, nudges the gate open and enters. He then turns around, takes the rope in his teeth and drops it back over the gate post, locking himself in. He then walks slowly towards the barn.
Walker watches him, and he smiles.
“Darn horse is smarter than most people---and God how I love that horse!”
The ranger walks into his home, observing the boxes in the floor, knowing that he will have to assemble some of the items inside. He can hear Alex’s voice in the nursery telling the men where to place the bigger items.
He walks into the nursery and his worst fear is happening, Alex is on the ladder with a hammer in her hand, and the curtains slung over her shoulder.
Ranger Cordell Walker awakes to a headache the size of the Lone Star State.
He groans as he attempts to rise out of bed, his hands going to his head. Had he been drinking, he couldn’t remember? His head felt like it was splitting into and there was a terrible pain between his eyes.
He sits up and looks towards the master bath.
“I got to take something for this damn headache--where’s the aspirin?”
He reaches for his jeans, but the chair on which he hangs them is no longer there. He emits a curse word and mutters.
“Where are my jeans?”
He stumbles to the bathroom, barely able to open his eyes and when he does so, he can’t believe the sight before him.
Nylons of different sizes are slung over the shower curtain, and in the sink. A curling iron and a hair dryer that is in the shape of a space helmet don the counter, along with various jars of acne medicine.
The ranger swears as he looks around him and the mess that the bathroom is in.
“Damn, Alex must really be feeling bad to leave such a mess! And she yells at me if I don’t put the lid back down on the toilet?”
He turns the water on and splashes his face gently; he can swear that he smells a faint odor of ether, mixed with the smell of lilacs.
He shakes his head gently opening the medicine cabinet, searching for the Tylenol; all he sees is Midol tablets for menstrual pains in huge bottles!
“What the heck, where are the Tylenol tablets and what’s with all these Midol pills? Since when did Alex ever start taking these, and least of all--- why now?”
The ranger gives up on finding anything for his headache; he throws his hands up in disgust and swallows two Midol pills.
“What the hell, it says it helps headaches---now to find my damn jeans, where the heck are they?”
He stumbles back into the bedroom, looking around him. Everything feels different, even the bedclothes are different. He looks to the wall over the head of the bed, the lances that criss-crossed and the small leather pouch that hung between them is now gone.
Walker sighs, “The spiritual bag that White Eagle presented to us when we got married is gone, now where the hell is it?”
The ranger continues to find things that are different, aside from the fact he still can’t find his jeans or the chair. He spots a purple bathrobe hanging on the bathroom door; he takes it down and stares at it.
“Who the hell does this belong to; Alex knows I don’t like bathrobes!”
He stares at the monogram “Father of the year.”
“Oh, what the heck, can’t find my jeans, may as well wear it! I need a cup of coffee.”
The ranger is now coming down the stairs as he again is taking in signs of change and the change is not setting very well with the Cherokee warrior. Gone are all the pictures of his Native American ancestors. No colorful Indian blankets grace the banisters and the colorful headdress of White Eagle is nowhere in sight.
“Alex must be cleaning again, but she would never take those items down, she knows how much they mean to me----and where are the pictures----of my parents, Uncle Ray---where the hell is everything?”
The ranger stops as the pain between his eyes seems to be getting worse, the smell of ether and lilacs mixing together. He stumbles towards the kitchen.
“She better have a damn good reason why those items are no longer around, I don’t bother her personal things, she’s not going to bother mine!”
He hears a soft voice singing as he enters the kitchen and sees the woman bent over the kitchen sink. He stares back at her and the black scarf she has over her head.
“What the heck is that thing, I’ve never seen her wear a scarf?”
He walks up slowly behind her, putting his arms around her waist, noticing that his hands go completely around her. No protruding stomach.
“Alex---have you been cleaning again?”
The woman yelps and turns around.
“CORD---you scared me---who is Alex?”
Walker does a double take as he stares into the face of his ex-fiancée, Ellen. Her dark eye stare back at him and then she continues to sing and virtually ‘floats’ around the kitchen, in her polka dot apron.
“Cord, sit down, breakfast is almost ready. Will you call the kids please?”
Walker’s brow arches at the mention of ‘kids’ and still can’t get over the fact that his deceased fiancée is dancing around in his kitchen.
Ellen is all smiles as she motions for Walker to sit down, “Here’s your tea darling. Did you call the kids?”
Walker stares back at the cup of boiling water with a teabag hung over the side, he looks up to Ellen.
“Kids? What kids?”
The woman giggles and starts fluffing her apron, “Oh Cord, stop teasing.”
The pain between his eyes is getting more painful as he looks around the kitchen, and sees the orange and green cabinets, and old appliances. The plaid wallpaper against the puky combination of green and orange is making him more nauseous. He looks back to the cup of hot liquid and grimaces.
“Where’s my coffee?”
Ellen giggles her hand going up to her mouth like a giddy school girl.
“Cord, you don’t drink coffee anymore.”
A trio of voices and the cadence of their footsteps hitting the tile floor cause Walker to turn back around in his chair. He sees three little girls come ‘sashaying’ into the kitchen. They’re like stair-steps, all according to their height.
The girls look to Walker and in unison, greet him.
“Good morning Father.”
Walker stares back at them as they all go the one side of the table and all sit down gracefully. The oldest one carries a mirror and constantly looking at herself and brushing her long golden hair back over her shoulders. The middle one makes a low growling noise and hisses towards the older one. The youngest one carries one of the ugliest dolls that Walker has ever seen. It’s a cross between the cabbage patch doll and Richard Nixon! The girl is constantly kissing it.
Walker shakes his head, “Who are these kids? And, where is my damn coffee?”
“Cord, watch your language, you know you’re not suppose to use foul talk in front of the kids, you know what the psychiatrist said. It gives them an inferiority complex!”
The girls all stare back at Walker, “Yes Father, you know what the psychiatrist says!”
Walker stands up from the table quickly, “I don’t know what the hell is going on around here and who all of you are---I just know that I have to have my coffee---before I go stark-raving mad---now where is my coffee?”
Walker goes to the cabinets and starts tossing things out in search for his Folgers’ Coffee, there is none to be found.
“I don’t believe this----where’s my coffee pot?”
And, it’s then that he spots it, with flowers planted inside.
Ellen stomps her foot, “Cord, you are scaring the girls---you know you stopped drinking coffee and that’s the reason why!” As she points to a pile of broken chairs sitting in the corner.
Walker stares back at the pile of broken chairs and then to Ellen.
“You’ve calmed down a lot since you stopped drinking coffee, you’re not breaking the furniture anymore! Girls, we have to clean house today, we have company coming later today and Alice might be dropping by also with her new beau.”
The girls all turn around to stare at Walker and in unison: “Yes Father, you’re almost human now.”
The oldest girl frowns, “But, Mother Alice is the maid, should she be cleaning the house?”
Ellen is blushing again, “Oh yes---oh my---oh my you are so right--but Alice is on a six month vacation!”
They all turn back to the table and the middle girl is making snapping noises at the older one and whispering-Marsha, Marsha, Marsha.”
Walker takes a deep sigh and goes back to the table, rubbing his head.
“Could I please just have a glass of juice; you know I don’t like hot tea, Alex.”
Ellen is giggling again, her voice is shrill and it’s going through the ranger like dragging your fingernails over a blackboard. She’s constantly holding the apron up to her mouth.
“There you go again, calling me Alex, I wonder who she is? Oh well, here’s your juice, sweetheart.”
Walker takes a long sip and then he spits it out.
“What the hell is this, it’s not orange juice!”
“Cord, I will not tell you again about your language---remember what the psychiatrist said, and you didn’t say orange juice, we don’t drink orange juice! That’s carrot and paprika!”
The ranger groans, “My head is killing me, it feels like it’s going to come off---and I can’t get that smell of ether and----and---and lilacs out of my nostrils!”
Ellen shakes her head and again the giggling starts, “Here come the boys, maybe they can help you with your headache honey!”
Walker hears a rustling sound and the sound of a bird chirping, he looks up to see three boys dancing towards the table on their toes and in colorful tutus. Each one is pivoting and swirling around in their dance costumes.
“Good morning Father, good morning Mother” they all say in unison.
Walker’s mouth drops open as the boys all sit down---very gracefully--all according to their height.
Again the hand goes to her mouth and the woman is gushing.
“Oh my, oh my---all of you look---just scrumptious---don’t they look just divine, Cord?”
Walker shakes his head, “That’s not exactly the word I would use to describe them. Do they see the same psychiatrist as the girls?”
All six kids start to laugh and the middle boy replies, “We’re not the ones that see the psychiatrist, Father ‘dear’-- you’re the one that sees him! And, I must say---I think you’re overdue an appointment!”
Walker glares back at the boy, “What is your name, or do I dare ask?”
The boy exhales as he starts cleaning his manicured nails, “I’m Porthos.”
Walker repeats the name, “What kind of name is that?”
The boy sits up quickly in his chair and folds his arms looking back at Walker with hate in his eyes.
“I am Porthos; the most feared of The three Musketeers, my name causes the mere mortal to faint from fear of me!”
Walker mutters under his breath, “I don’t think they fear you, unless they’re afraid they’ll laugh themselves to death.”
Walker looks to the oldest boy; his hair is in curls all over his head, the ranger groans.
“Are you supposed to be another ‘Musketeer’ too? I suppose your name is Athos-or if my recollection of ‘Swashbuckling fiction is correct---Michael Angelo?”
All the boys start laughing in a high pitched shrill, and the middle boys smirks back at Walker.
“My dear Father---Michael Angelo was a Ninja Turtle---not a Musketeer!”
Everyone is laughing and Walker stares back to the boy called “Porthos”, he mutters under his breath.
“I’ll bet you were the reason ‘birth control pills were invented!”
The third boy is staring back at Walker with a toothless grin as big as Texas.
Walker takes a deep sigh, “I’m afraid to ask, what is your name?”
The boy jumps up and starts twirling around the room, shouting “I’m Dudley, I’m Dudley!!”
Walker shakes his head, repeating the name over and over, “There was no Musketeer called “Dudley.” How did you get that name?”
The boy stops and sits down, mumbling--”I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.”
Walker puts both elbows on the table and exhales slowly, “Man, what I wouldn’t give for a nice hot cup of coffee!”
A shrill voice fills the room, “Your breakfast is almost ready Cord---girls---call “Tiger’, his breakfast is ready too.”
Walker looks over at Ellen as she is dropping a T-bone steak down into a frying pan, he smacks his lips.
“Finally---something to eat--that really looks good, can’t wait to sink my teeth down into ----”
A loud growl is heard, a flash goes through the air, taking the steak out of Ellen’s hand and devouring it in one bite. Walker stares back as the biggest Bengal tiger he has ever seen is ---swallowing the last of the steak.
Ellen is scolding the tiger, “Tiger---you are so spoiled; you are suppose to wait until it’s offered to you, bad boy!”
“What the heck is a tiger doing in my house, and why is he eating my steak?”
The girls giggle, the boys smirk.
“Cord, you know we don’t eat red meat! What’s wrong with you?”
Before he can answer, the tiger is approaching the ranger slowly, baring his teeth and growling.
Porthos answers in his irritating voice, “Tiger has never liked you much, Father dear.”
Walker stares back at the big cat, “Get this overgrown cat out of my kitchen before I give it a karate chop it won’t soon forget!”
The girls all start calling to the tiger, he continues to growl at the ranger.
Finally the youngest girl sighs, walks over and shoves her doll into the face of the tiger, the cat screams and runs out the back door. The girl kisses the doll and then sits back down. She looks to Walker and answers softly.
“Tiger is afraid of President Nixon.”
“Now, the rest of us can eat our breakfast,” and Ellen is again dancing, going from one child’s bowl to the next with big globs of oatmeal.
When she gets to Walker, he waves her away.
“I hate oatmeal; I would rather starve, than eat that stuff. Maybe I’ll go out and dig up some earth worms---anything, but oatmeal!”
The kids all groan and Porthos replies.
“He must have really got kicked in the head this time, but you warned him Mother---to stay away from those bulls!”
The rest of the kids all chime, “You warned him Mother!”
Walker shakes his head, “What else is going to happen?”
A loud voice fills the room and more singing is heard:
“Jeremiah was a bull frog,
Was a good friend of mine--
Never understood a single word he said,
But I helped him to drink his wine!’
Joy to the world and the deep blue sea
Helped him to drink his wine.”
Walker looks up to see a portly man come in, followed by an older woman, dressed in leather riding pants.
They are both dressed like bikers, and a foul smell accompanies them, rather on the sweet side.
“Heeey partners, the old lady and I just blew in from Frisco, thought we would drop in long enough to get a free meal and say HOWDY.”
The kids all start yelling “ALICE” and they run to her, asking questions.
The old woman is all smiles as she keeps looking to the portly man beside her and blushing.
“Hey everybody this is D.C. and I’m his new ‘old lady.”
The old man is gushing and nodding his head, “Yep, yep, and if you continue to be a good ‘mama’, I might let you ride behind me on my Harley, instead of riding on the handle bars. Those L.A. cops got a little testy when they saw you up there on the bars, applying makeup.”
Walker stares back at the old man, and asks slowly.
“C.D.? What the heck are you doing here, dressed like a biker?”
The old man takes off his glasses and gives the peace sign, staring at Walker’s bright purple bathrobe. “Don’t know who you think I am young man, but if this C.D. or whatever his name is has some weed to sell, I’m buying!”
“We don’t have time to buy any weed, ‘Poopsie Bear’, we got to get on the road, and Tijuana is calling our names. Well folks, gotta roll--I’ll be back in six months!”
The couple is out the door and the sound of a Harley Davidson is heard being revved up.
“Oh my, oh my---that Alice is something else! Come on girls, we got to get things cleaned up before the company arrives.”
“What company? I’m in no mood for company, and would someone please tell me where my jeans are? I would like to get out of this stupid robe and get dressed sometime today!”
The girls all grimace and reply in unison.
“Mother threw them away, they were old!”
Walker stares back at Ellen, “You threw my jeans away, what the hell---I mean what the heck am I suppose to wear? I loved those jeans!”
“Oh Cord, don’t worry I have a set of clothes for you in the closet.”
“Set of clothes? Jeans don’t come in ‘sets’. I must have an old pair in the hamper, I’ll dig them out.”
“Oh no you won’t, we have company coming and they are due here any moment! Go upstairs and change into your new clothes, and while you’re at it----do you mind shaving that stupid beard off?”
Walker grabs his face, “My beard? No way will I shave my beard off!”
Ellen shakes her head in disgust, “Really Cord, you are getting out of control! I know that bull kicked you hard, but that was 6 months ago! You should be over the headache by now!”
Walker starts stumbling into the living room, the pain is getting worse, he feels something moist go across his forehead. He looks around for his recliner, then he sees all the empty boxes in the floor. He feels like the room is spinning as he sees plastic all over the furniture, including his recliner, and the huge box type TV sitting in the corner with rabbit ears.
He flops down into his chair and Ellen screams.
“Don’t sit on the furniture, you’ll wrinkle it. It’s got to be packed”.
“Packed? Where the hell is it going? What are all these moving boxes doing here?”
Porthos smirks, “There he goes again, you’ll have to tell him again, Mother dear!”
“Tell me what?”
All of the kids shout at once, “We’re moving!”
Walker looks to Ellen, “What are they talking about, who’s moving?”
“Oh my, oh my---we are moving Cord, the people from the realtors will be here any moment!”
“Oh no---I’m not moving, I’m not selling this house, this land, no way in HELL am I selling!”
“You have no choice, Cord, we already signed the papers.”
“I didn’t sign any papers!”
Porthos again smirks and dances up to Walker on his tip toes, handing him papers, “Read it and weep---Father dear!”
Walker stares at the papers and sees his signature at the bottom, he stammers.
“Nooo---not my ranch, I would never sell it.”
The doorbell rings and Ellen dances over to answer the door. She then slams it hard.
“It’s those two again, Cord---get rid of them!”
Walker looks out the window and sees his Uncle Ray and Trivette just standing there on the porch.
He opens the door and motions for them to come in; they remain right where they’re standing.
“What are you doing standing there, come on in! You are not going to believe what is going on here--what’s wrong with you two?”
The black ranger shoves his hands down inside his pockets and looks at Walker meekly.
“You know we can’t come in, we’re not allowed!”
“Yeah Washo, you have to come out here to talk to us, Ellen won’t allow us in the house.”
Walker’s temper is rising as he looks back to Ellen and the kids they all back up, whimpering.
“What do you mean you’re not allowed in my house, since when?”
“We know the rules Walker; I just came by to give you a lift to work, since you don’t have your truck anymore!”
“My truck is sitting right out there---in the driveway-----where the heck is my truck?”
Porthos’ eyes light up, “Mother sold it too!”
Walker is steaming as he points back to his best friend and dear Uncle. He walks up to Ellen slowly and gets in her face.
“How can you say that my Uncle and my best friend are not welcome in this house, this is my house---and they are family!”
The kids all gasp, “Mother, what is he saying, we’re related to----them! That old man is an Indian!!”
Walker grins, “You mean they don’t know that they are one quarter---redskin! You never told them?”
“But Cord, we said we would never bring it up!”
“Surprise, surprise, they know it now---how does it feel to be related to the Cherokee, huh kids?”
The kids all run out of the room screaming that they are going to be scalped, and they run out---according to their heights, (good grief).
Trivette and Uncle Ray make a hasty retreat, and Walker is still running around in his purple bathrobe. Finally, he yanks it off and throws it into the floor, Ellen just stares at him---and gushes.
“Cord, put some clothes on---you are naked!”
“You’ve seen me naked before, what’s the big deal?”
“Oh my, oh my---this is so embarrassing.”
Walker lets out a string of curse words and goes stomping up the stairs.
He finds his new set of clothes, a pale yellow--- three piece leisure suit.
“I’m not wearing this crap, I wouldn’t be caught dead in it---I’ve got to have some jeans around here somewhere that she hasn’t thrown away-----or sold! She sold my Ram---I loved that truck!”
He finally finds a pair of old jeans that had been used for painting; he looks at the spatters of paint---pink!
He smiles for just a moment and runs his hand over the color, “What a beautiful shade of pink, what was I painting pink?”
He pulls his jeans on quickly, “I gotta get out of here, I’ll saddle up “Amigo” and go for a ride, yeah---that’s what I’ll do, get away from this mad house!”
He grabs a shirt and runs out to the corral in his stocking feet, whistling for his beloved horse.
He whistles till his mouth is so dry, he can’t whistle anymore, then he starts calling out for the horse. He hears someone coming up behind him and sees Porthos eating an ice cream cone---triple decker.
“He can’t hear you, Father dear---he’s on his way to the slaughter house---Mother sold him too!”
Walker just stands there, then he falls to his knees, Amigo? She sold Amigo---why? Why did she sell my horse?”
“Because we couldn’t take a horse to a condo--- you should know that!”
Walker stands up and looks around him, “She’s selling the house, sold my truck, my horse, there’s nothing left. There’s nothing left---nothing!”
He looks towards where his beloved truck was once parked.
“She sold my truck, how am I supposed to transport my prisoners to jail now?”
Porthos continues to smirk as he points to a station wagon, complete with the wood panels on the side.
“Mother bought you a station wagon---besides you don’t transport prisoners anymore, you are no longer a Texas Ranger!”
The ranger groans, “Since when am I not a Texas Ranger?”
“Since years ‘Father dear’---that’s all in the past, you design houses now. Man---that bull kicked you really hard this time!”
“I suppose I don’t ride the bulls anymore either---right? If so, how did I get kicked in the head by a bull?”
“You’re so dramatic, Father dear---you got kicked in the head by the bulls at the rodeo. And no, you were not riding a bull, you just happened to walk by one of the stalls and the bull kicked you!”
He walks slowly back into the house, his shoulders slumped. He walks to his recliner and flops down, the plastic creaks.
Ellen comes running into the front room and shouting “They’re here, they’re here! Cord, the people from the real estate office is here, and they have the new owner with them!”
Walker doesn’t move from his chair, “I’m not budging from my chair; they’ll have to pry me away from it!”
Ellen goes running to the door, and Walker takes a deep breath---”Lilacs?”
He hears voices murmuring and then he sees a blond headed woman step forward, he gasps, “Alex?”
The smell of the lilacs has gotten stronger and coolness is felt going across his forehead and a soft voice whispers.
“Walker---honey----are you alright? Talk to me---Walker.”
He hears a man’s voice, “I think he’s finally coming around----heyyyy Walkman----you o.k.?”
He’s trying to open his eyes wider, he sees the blond headed woman leaning over him, holding a wet cloth, and crying.
“Honey----can you hear me---are you o.k.----I’m so sorry!”
Another man’s voice is heard, “Dad burn it Alex, you sure clobbered him good with that hammer!”
“I didn’t mean to----he came up behind me and yelled at me----I turned around and then I hit him with it.”
“Yep! Right between the eyes, counselor!”
Walker is being helped to his feet; the blonde is trying to put her arms around his neck, her belly preventing her from it.
“Walker---honey I am so sorry I hit you.”
Walker shakes his head, “You hit me----with a hammer?”
“I didn’t mean to, honest I didn’t mean to!”
Walker looks around the room, everything looks normal, he puts his hand up and wobbles to the front door, he sees his RAM parked right where he left it.
“It’s still here”, he mumbles---and then he whistles as loud as he can.
He sees his beloved horse running to the corral fence and whinnying back at him.
Walker laughs, “And my horse---he’s still here!”
He turns and sees his wife and two best friends staring back at him, a puzzled look on their faces. He walks towards them and tries to hug all three of them; he then kisses his wife long and tender.
“Alex, you can hit me in the head with a hammer anytime, as long as you’re here when I wake up and I see that beautiful face.”
He reaches down and pats her belly saying to himself “Now I remember what I was painting pink.”
They all laugh and head for the kitchen, Walker hesitates.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Please tell me that I have plenty of coffee in that kitchen.”
“Yes honey, you have coffee---I bought you a whole case of it---just yesterday.”
In the distance that repetitious song is still being heard:
‘, and that’s how we all became The Brady Bunch”!!!
The End-----by Sasquaw
April 1st, 2010 (Re write)