“And who are you, kind sir?” asked Alexandria. Then Mr. Pryce put down his armed gun and whispered, “Nice name, ma’am,” Mr. Pryce responded, “I’m Mr. Pryce.”
“Good name,” said Alexandria, “what’s your age?” “I’m forty- four,” Mr. Pryce answered, “and yours, fair lady?”
Alexandria thought about this question for a while. “I’m forty- eight,” she answered, “do you have any children of your own?” “No,” Mr. Pryce replied, “do you have any?” “Not yet,” Alexandria answered. By that time, Mr. Pryce asked Alexandria if she’d like to come in for a cup of tea.
“How many lumps of sugar, ma’am?” Mr. Pryce asked. “Three,” Alexandria answered, “that’s enough for me.”
Mr. Pryce then felt his way to the lumps of sugar and tried to feel the sugar cubes. “Three,” Mr. Pryce hesitated, “ooh, well, I only like two.”
Then Mr. Pryce felt his way to Alexandria and felt her hand, and gave it to her. Alexandria thanked Mr. Pryce kindly for the cup of tea.
“What’s there to talk about?” Mr. Pryce hesitated to talk about wartime, but Alexandria wanted to talk about other things.
“Talking is good enough.” Mr. Pryce thanked, “but there’s so much to talk about.” “How about this?” said Alexandria, “we couldn’t have met before.” Let’s talk about that.
“Good,” Mr. Pryce said, gladly, “we should talk about that.” “Where were you born?” asked Alexandria, “Europe, perhaps?” “Why do you say that?” Mr. Pryce answered, “is it my accent?”
Alexandria hesitated and said, “Yes, I think you’re English.” She replied to his question.
“Good job, my fair lady. That’s correct,” says Mr. Pryce. “Thanks, kind sir,” thanked Alexandria, “and what do you notice about me?”
Mr. Pryce felt her face and responded, “You’re Hispanic. Am I correct?” “Yeah,” Alexandria answered, “good job, sir.”
Alexandria then started grabbing Mr. Pryce’s hand to shake it, and he noticed her feeling the hands, so they shook hands.
After talking, they got a knock at the door. Alexandria answered the door, and she noticed it was a boy, so she wondered who this boy was.
“So, who’s this, Mr. Pryce?” asked Alexandria. “His name is J.J.,” Mr. Pryce said, “and he’s a new neighbor.”
“Hello, ma’am,” said J.J., “my name is Jamison Rudolph Hartman Jr., and I’m seven.” “Hello, young master,” answered Alexandria, “nice to meet you, J.J..”
“Indeed,” said J.J., “and it’s nice to meet you too.” J.J. came into Mr. Pryce’s house and sat on his couch.
“May I please watch TV, sir?” asked J.J., “I want to watch Captain Marvelous.” “Who’s Captain Marvelous?” questioned Mr. Pryce, “what’s his real name?”
“He’s a superhero,” answered J.J., “and his real name is Jimmy Howard, he’s from Texas.” “Oh,” answered Mr. Pryce, “that’s cool.”
Mr. Pryce then let J.J. watch the TV show. “This is a new episode called Episode 95,” said J.J., “and it’s the fourth season, twenty-fifth episode.”
Mr. Pryce sipped his cup of tea and heard J.J. speak. “That’s cool,” Mr. Pryce replied, “may I please watch with you?”
J.J. hesitated to tell Mr. Pryce that it was a kiddie show, but Mr. Pryce didn’t mind. “Sure,” said J.J., “you can, but just so you know, it’s a kiddie show, sir.”
Then Mr. Pryce felt his way into the living room and overheard the show until J.J. wanted to go outside.
“What is it you like most about the show?” J.J. wondered, “well, most of what you’ve heard.” Mr. Pryce respected what J.J. wanted to say.
“I liked the part where Captain Marvelous saved a cat from a tree before battling Doctor Evil,” Mr. Pryce said. “Me too,” agreed J.J., “I liked that part too.”
Now, after they talked, Forrester came back with terrible news. “My grandma, Vivien Parkes, died at age sixty-six,” Forrester said, crying, “and she was born in Helmsley, England, in 1884.”
“How did she die?” Mr. Pryce questioned, “What from?” Forrester cried, “She died from a lung disease. But I forget what it was called.”
Mr. Pryce considered the possibility of death. “It’s called Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease,” Mr. Pryce answered, “and they have abbreviated it to COPD.”
Forrester then asked Mr. Pryce if he could stay around his house, and he told him only if it’s okay with your parents.
“May I please use your phone, sir?” Forrester asked. “You may,” Mr. Pryce replies, “but if you stay around, you’ll have to do chores.”
Then Forrester left to call his parents and came back ten minutes later. “They agreed with it,” Forrester said, “sir, how much am I getting paid?”
“Let me think,” says Mr. Pryce, “I’ll pay you £10.” J.J. thought about the pricing and replied, “Oh, £10 equals $13.07 in my country.”
“Really,” Forrester said, fascinatingly, “that’s cool!” “How do you know that?” wondered Mr. Pryce. “That’s cool how you knew that in your head.”
“Well,” says J.J., “you’d see. I’m smart for my age at seven years old.” Mr. Pryce, by the head-counted math that J.J. did, was truly fascinated.
“Yes,” Mr. Pryce says, “you’re smart, indeed.” “Thank you, kindly,” J.J. thanked. “I am, aren’t I?” Alexandria told everyone there would be thunderstorms soon.
“All of us come in,” said Alexandria, “it’s going to pour soon.” Then they all entered the house and sat by the fire, getting warmth.
It became nightfall, and Mr. Pryce told everyone to go home, except Forrester and J.J.. Everyone left, and Mr. Pryce told Forrester to get his pillow and blanket from his home.
Now that the room was silent, Mr. Pryce asked J.J. a question. “Do you want to meet Captain Marvelous?” Mr. Pryce asked, “if you do, I’ll take you to see him.”
“Yes!” J.J. said so excitedly, “I do, but how are you going to do it?” Mr. Pryce told J.J. not to worry about him. He will make it happen.
J.J. then went home, and Forrester went to Mr. Pryce’s house, and they both rested until the morning.
The next morning came, and Forrester woke early in the morning, and Mr. Pryce woke a little later than Forrester. “Good morning, sir,” said Forrester, “what’s there to eat?”
Mr. Pryce thought about it for a moment, then replied, “There’s cereal, milk, and bowls in the cabinet. And I’ll get the cereal and make your breakfast.”
“Thank you, kindly, sir,” said Forrester, “I’ll take anything you’ve got.” Mr. Pryce felt his way to the kitchen, and Forrester walked past him and sat at the kitchen table.
“I’ll give you Honey Munchies,” Mr. Pryce said, as he had only that. “Please,” Forrester said politely, “I’ll take anything you’ve got.”
Then, both Mr. Pryce and Forrester ate breakfast, and after breakfast, they both headed outside, where Mr. Pryce gave Forrester his first chore.
“Clean the gardens,” said Mr. Pryce, “that’s the first chore.” Then Mr. Pryce gave Forrester a garden shovel and told him to be careful.
Thirty minutes have passed, and Forrester finishes. “What’s next?” Forrester questioned, “I’ll do anything and I’ll work hard at it.”
Mr. Pryce thought of a new chore and gave it to Forrester. “Paint a new color on my fences,” Mr. Pryce said. “And I’ll teach you how to.”
Forrester respectfully asked, “What color, sir?” “I’ll be happy to paint it whatever.” Mr. Pryce tried to think of the colors he had.
“Warm Golden Yellow,” Mr. Pryce said, “I’ve also got Deep Royal Blue.” “That’s only what I have.” “This is what I’ll pick,” Forrester replied. “I’ve chosen Warm Golden Yellow.”
“Good,” was Mr. Pryce’s reply, “you’ve chosen well. I would’ve chosen that too.” Then Mr. Pryce led Forrester to the supply closet and grabbed the paint can.
It had “WARM GOLDEN YELLOW,” written across the lid of the can. “Here,” Mr. Pryce said, “grab the handle carefully, please. It spills easily.”
“Okay,” Forrester replied, “I’ll handle it cautiously.” Then, Mr. Pryce led Forrester to the fences to be painted.
“Paint it with me, and make sure the strokes are straight.” Mr. Pryce tells Forrester. He added, “Do you know how to do straight lines?” he added, as he questioned.
“Yes, sir,” Forrester answered respectfully, “good enough.” “Good enough?” Mr. Pryce asked Forrester, “What do you mean by that?”