The Drip, a novel by Michael Gullo
“Heya Bill!”
“Hey, Mamaw Mernie.”
“Hey, Bill.”
“Hey, Emma.”
“Hey, Uncle Bill.”
“Hey, Bernie.”
“Now that we got the Waltons out of the way, you live right here in town, and I only see you twice a year.”
“I know Emma. I see you more at the grocery store.”
“It’s getting so I have to make up work for you to do just to get sight of you.”
“I ain’t missed much though. Yer still up to the same old tricks. What you got planned for me here at the Community Center?”
“Well, Bill. It’s about these doors. They plague me. I asked everyone I know where the originals are and why these are here, and not a soul can dip a valid guess. Ever’ one does agree though, these don’t belong here.”
“You mean they don’t match, and you want me to get some doors and put ’em on.”
“Well, Bill, that wasn’t the idea, but now that you mention it. After I get you to put in cameras, maybe I can sweet talk you into donating a couple fit-in doors.”
“Was I already donating the cameras too?”
“That’s so sweet of you. Come all the way down here to volunteer your labor, and you kick the cameras in with the deal.”
“The deal?”
“Like as you know how important this is to me. These doors been on my mind – only thing I can think is they got put in for security.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Nobody knows. They’re here, and if I’m going to replace them, I need security cameras to do the job that I think they blighted the building for in the first place.”
“Like as I know, ha? Teach school twenty-five years, Church Trustee, Elections Officer, and still folksy enough to turn up the charm when aesthetics is on the line.”
“Well, Bill.”
“I should have you call my bank and see if you can’t get them to donate a couple months mortgage for me.”
“Is it Tennessee Mutual?”
“Oh, brother.”
“What’s that, mama?”
“You heard me.”
“And you didn’t even need a bear this time.”
“Lonnie know the rules. Subject fray the nerve, change the subject. Bear work with a man like Lonnie. You two, a lady need less manners.”
“I know that move! Michael calls that, don’t make an asshole outa me.”
“Yep, that’s it, the less manner version. Who’s Michael?”
“Well, Mernie, that’s the reason I was able to meet Emma here on such short notice. My buddy Michael just bought that old fishin hole up the road, and he got security problems, and he needs me to come install some cameras.”
“Wait, you know the talk of the town?”
“Well, yeah. He’s my friend. Talk of the town, ha? I bet he is. You just wait till you meet him.”
“You do got a mixed batch of ’em.”
“Yeah, Mama’s right. You sure do have a mixed batch. So you know the man bought Old Trail Holler.”
“He calls it Cat’s Ass Holler – when Stefanie lets him.”
“Oh, there’s a Stefanie too?”
“Ohh, there’s a Stefanie. It’s a security business ladies, you’re going to have to get your gossip somewhere else.”
“Fine, I’d like cameras inside, but the Elections Commission would have a say there, and beg forgiveness like that might get me on CNN in November rather than provide security for the center.”
“So all cameras outdoor?”
“Good idea, Bill. Yes, outdoor only.”
“So, two pointed at the door, one in each corner here. Do you want any pointed outwards?”
“Can we do that?”
“I could put one for the parking lot, and maybe go around back and hide one up in that eave too.”
“Oh, hidden cameras? I was thinking big honking cameras say keep out more than, ha, gotcha.”
“Okay four keep-out cameras. How about the technology?”
“I know them’s magic words to you.”
“Technology. Do you want something that you have to monitor, or do you want an account?”
“I hadn’t thought about that?”
“That’s so sweet of you. Bless your heart.”
“Here’s the short. I can donate the cameras either way, but you gotta figure out the technology. Option one, you have to buy a thousand dollar DVR and set up a free account that will alert you when someone sets off the alarm. Or two, you need to set up an account with like Ring, and it will send an alert every time someone approaches.”
“Bernie, how much is a subscription?”
“Already on it, Mama. Says you get as many cameras here at one location for ninety-nine dollars a year. The real advantage is Ring has two way communication.”
“That’s how they gitcha, Emma. They get you on that ’scription, and you hooked for life.”
“I know, Mamaw Mernie, and that DVR is ten years of subscription all at once, but you own it afterwards.”
“If it lasts ten years,” Bill cut in.
“What do you suggest, Bill?”
“This is your choice, Emma. All I do is install them and grin when you pick which of your own traps you got yourself stuck in.”