The Joke

A Practical Joke

Frank Williams was a millionaire several times over, but if you met him on the street, you never would have guessed. His taste in attire ran to blue jeans, a well-washed cowboy shirt, and a woven straw hat with a soiled sweatband. His belly did attest to the fact that he ate well, but then some folks bulged with much poorer fare.

Frank and his wife, Bessie had owned the Red Rock Ranch and the fine Hereford cattle that roamed its wide expanse for nigh on to thirty years now. Frank had been a stripling of a boy when he had inherited the spread from his Dad, Big Will. He had done all right, buying more land from a neighbor who sold out and adding to the herd in good years.

Now, how Frank teamed up with Leslie Huggins, a most unlikely partner is the story I want to share, but first I need to tell you that Frank Williams loved a good practical joke. He sent away for a book on ventriloquism and when new hands were shown around the barn, the cows started talking.

Leslie Huggins had never been near a cow, talking or otherwise. The Huggins family lived in Vickersville next to the railroad tracks. Every time the train rumbled by kicking up dust in their grassless yard, Leslie’s asthma closed his throat. Wheezing and choking, he was chewed out by Jed, his rot-gut whisky drinking father.

“Just a sickly no-good. You ain’t ever goin’ to amount to anything.”

Of course, Jed had not reckoned on Leslie meeting up with Frank Williams, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

During high school, Leslie picked up soda and beer cans and redeemed them at the neighborhood grocery. People on the other side of the tracks had lawns that he mowed during the summer. Pushing the hand mower with his spindly arms, he gasped and coughed. Stuffing the cash in grass-stained trousers; he’d walk uptown to buy the latest car magazine. At night while his parents squabbled, he would lick his thumb, turning the slick pages. By the time he had memorized every spec on the new models the magazine’s staples were letting go.

At Leslie‘s graduation, Ol’ Jed issued an ultimatum.

“Better get a real job or you’re out on your ear.”

Leslie took a bus to Bozeman, Montana, the big city, fifteen miles away. Wandering uptown from the bus station, he stared at a sign in a Chinese restaurant. DISHWASHER WANTED. He stood on the sidewalk. He could wash dishes, lord knows, he had washed enough for Ma, but then his father’s words echoed in his ears, “a real job.” He could count on donkey brays if he revealed he was washing dishes. He walked block after block. A large Cadillac dealership occupying a corner lot drew him like metal filings to a magnet. “Bigger is Better” read a sign on the window. Pressing his pug nose to the glass, Leslie sighed with longing. A brand new dark blue 1982 Eldorado convertible revolved on a platform showing off every luxurious detail.

Leslie’s worn loafers seemed to glide through the open showroom door and planted him right in front of the car. His magazine’s glossy pages had not done justice to this beauty. A yell from a back office broke through his trance.

“Hey, kid! What do ya’ want?”

“J-just looking.”

“Yeah, well don’t touch nothing’”

Then, three magical things happened. The salesman who had been yelling decided that such a sissy looking fellow like the one mooning over the El Dorado was harmless and certainly not a sales prospect. So, he moseyed back to the men’s bathroom. About the minute he disappeared, a woman breezed in the front door and stood next to Leslie.

“Well now, ain’t that about the prettiest dang car you ever did see?” Bessie Williams said.

Leslie turned to her and nodded. “I’ll say. Look at those touring wheels, the whitewall tires, and the classic house grill. That white and red interior is perfect with the blue exterior. The seats are about as comfy as your sofa. It is not only pretty; it has a 6.01 engine with power to spare. It gets eight miles to the gallon in town and ten or eleven on the straightaway.”

By now, Bessie eyes had glazed over. She was in love … with the El Dorado. She shook herself.

“You’re a fine salesperson, young man. I’m gonna’ send Frank in to take a gander at this car and wouldn’t surprise me none if he buys it. Gotta’ go now, got to finish my grocery shopping.”

“I’m not a…”

She bustled away before he could finish. A large man raised his hat to her as she rushed out the door.

“Heard the whole thing, son. How do you know so much about cars?”

“I read about all the models in car magazines and memorize all the specs.”

The man extended his hand. “I’m Red Knight, the owner here. Maybe you’ve seen our commercials on TV?”

“Yes, the one about trading in your old steed to the red knight. Is that really you in the armor? Oh sorry, sir, I’m Leslie Huggins. This is the first time I’ve seen your showroom except on TV. I came up here from Vickersville to try to find work.”

As I told you magic occasionally happens. By the time Leslie left, he had a job. Back home he marched through the dirt yard and into front room where Ma was dishing up beans and cornbread.

“You’re late,” Jed snarled, “and probably nary a job offer.”

Leslie straightened his lanky body. “No, you’re wrong Pop.” Ma’s head snapped up. “I got one offer and I took it”

“So, the slaughter house took you on?” Jed allowed himself a loud guffaw.

“No, I have a job as a salesperson at Knight Cadillac.”

Jed nearly choked on his soup spoon. “The one on TV?”

“Yup.”

With his first week’s paycheck, Leslie went to Monkey Wards and bought a tan corduroy sport coat and brown slacks. He already had a white shirt and striped tie that he had worn for his grandpa’s funeral. He was looking better by the time Frank Williams came in to see the car Bessie was so wild about.

After hearing Bessie rave about this “beautiful blue baby we’ve just got to get” for almost two weeks, Frank decided he may as well surprise her and have some fun besides. After all, Bessie did not usually ask for much with the exception of the fancy cook stove and huge freezer for the beef. “She’s a crackerjack cook,” he thought, patting his stomach, recalling the gooseberry pie he had wolfed down at lunch. She never put up a fuss about his chewing tobacco either. Now that was a woman you kept around. She had not given him a passel of sons like he’d hoped, but their daughter, Sasha, or Sassie as they called her could ride and rope and work just as well as any man. She had turned out cute as a newborn heifer too.

Frank ambled out to the lean to and found the oldest and dirtiest pair of overalls. Then he rummaged in Bessie’s rag bag for the shirt she had insisted, “Would fall blame to pieces if I wash it again.” He took off his better shirt and hung it on a peg and replaced it with the frayed one. He hiked the overalls up over the shirt and stuck a bent nail through where a fastener used to be. He accessorized with muddy boots and a straw work hat that appeared to have been sat on.

“Goin’ up to town, Bess,” he said, poking his head around the corner into her kitchen. She lifted the wire cradle out of the canner on the stove and set it on the counter. She took off her glasses and wiped the steam from them with her apron. She frowned looking at him.

“You fixin’ to tie hogs up there?”

“Could be,” he chuckled.

After going to the Bozeman Bank, Frank parked his four-wheel drive Ford pickup well away from the Cadillac dealership. He peered in the window at Bessie’s dream car. Yup, she knew how to pick ‘em.

He sauntered in slowly, stuck his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on his heels in front of “Blue Baby.” A young man rushed up.

“How may I help you, sir?”

“Since I’m at a car sellin’ establishment, I might just want to buy a car.”

“Yes, of course, Mr.…?”

‘I’m Frank Williams.”

From his office, Bart, the other salesman watched Leslie shaking hands and then talking and gesturing. He smirked and closed the glass door. Huggins was so eager to make his first sale that he was soliciting bums.

Frank let Leslie explain virtues of every vehicle on the lot. He could not help being impressed. Then they strolled back into the showroom and Frank asked the price of the El Dorado.

Frank scratched his stubbly chin that he had left unshaven on purpose.

“We do have finance plans, Mr. Williams,” Leslie informed him. “It only takes a few minutes to do the paperwork.”

Frank nodded, as if he were considering this option for a few minutes.

“Nah, I’ll just pay cash.”

He stuck his hand in his pocket and extracted a fat roll of bills secured with a rubber band.

Leslie gaped at the wad and swallowed repeatedly.

“What’s the matter son, don’t this place accept cash.”

“Yes, of course, Sir.” His voice hit a high note that he hadn’t visited since puberty.

“You’d best count it and see if it’s all there.”

Leslie recovered. “Why don’t we go into Bert’s office and do that and draw up the papers. Right this way.”

“May I borrow your extra chair, Bert?” Leslie said without waiting for an answer. He dragged the chair toward his small desk crowded in one corner.

“Mr. Williams here has decided to pay cash for the El Dorado.”

Bert jumped up from his padded office chair. “Need any help with the paperwork, Huggins?”

“Leslie’s new, you know,” he said to Frank in a confidential tone. He rounded his desk and reached out to shake hands. “I’m Bert Dugan, I’ve been here giving superior service to our customers now for three years.”

“Have you now?” Frank said, “I guess we all have our off days.”

“We’re fine, Bert.” Leslie said. “Mr. Williams, please read this contract and the warranty before you sign here at the bottom. When will you be in to pick up the car?

“Well, I was hoping to take it home to Bessie as soon as possible, but I drove my pickup in, so I guess I could bring her in with me sometime this week and she could drive it home.”

“While you’re reading the fine print, Mr. Williams, please excuse me while I make a phone call.” He walked over to Bert’s desk, picked up the receiver and dialed.

“Hello, Mr. Knight? This is Leslie Huggins. I wondered if you would mind if I drove home a customer’s truck as a courtesy. Mr. William’s is sitting here at my desk examining the paperwork. I have just sold the El Dorado to him and he wants to take it home and surprise his wife. Oh, yes, he has paid in full, cash. Thanks so much. Oh, and should I stop by the bank with this money on my way? Yes, I’ll have Bert get out a deposit slip.”

Frank and Leslie walked into the bank together.

“Well, Frank,” the bank manager said, “Your money in and out in one afternoon.”

“Look out the window there and see what it bought me.”

Arriving at Red Rock Ranch, Frank started beeping the horn as he pulled in the circular driveway in front of his rambling house. Bessie and Sassie came running out as Leslie pulled in behind the new car. He got out and watched while Bessie threw her arms around Frank and bussed him on the cheek.

“You wonderful old coot,” she said.

“Daddy, can I take it for a ride?” Sassie said, bending over in her Levi’s and stroking the upholstery.

“Now, Sis, you got the little VW bug you wanted. This here car is for your mom.”

Now it was not love at first sight like Bessie and the Eldorado, but Leslie knew he liked Sassie and her Levi’s, so he cleared his throat.

“Oh, Bessie, this is Leslie Huggins, he offered to drive the Ford out here so’s I could bring you the car.”

“I already met him; he told me all about my new car when I first saw it. Now, that you’re out here may as well stay to supper.”

“Yes,” Frank said, “By the time I took you back into town it would be past time for you to go home anyway.”

Sassie tossed her ponytail. “You didn’t introduce me, Daddy.”

You probably have figured out that introduction was just the beginning, but what you might not know unless you have driven through Bozeman recently is that Leslie’s father-in-law, Frank. set him up in business on the opposite corner from Knight Cadillac. Huggins Used Cars does a brisk business. Come to think of it, you have probably seen the TV commercial with those cute little Huggins twins. “Want a good deal?” Mike, their son says.

“Want a hug?” Mindy, their daughter, says, reaching out her pudgy arms. “Go to Huggins Motors and get both.”