Young Zachary Case of the Confederate Gold

YOUNG ZACHARY

CASE OF THE CONFEDERATE GOLD

BY

GRANDPA CASEY

Copyright Pending

This book is fictional and any depiction of a person or place is purely coincidental

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

GET UP, GET UP, GET UP. Startled by the hollering and pounding on the door, I jump out of bed and fall on the floor; it seems my legs still wanted to sleep. The shouting and banging continues as I try to hoist myself up.

After the third unsuccessful attempt I sit on the floor and shout back, OKAY! I’M AWAKE! I’ll be out in a minute, give me time to get dressed.

Finally getting on my feet I slam the alarm clock, go to the bathroom and do my business. After brushing my teeth, I look in the mirror and search for zits. When I’m satisfied that none have appeared I go back to my room and start getting dressed. As I was putting on my school clothes I realize I’ve been duped. Wait a minute. My alarm clock didn’t go off. I look at the clock and realize it’s not even set. It’s a holiday; what’s going on? I quickly change into my everyday clothes and head towards the kitchen. Needless to say, I was a little perturbed that I was needlessly awaken on my day off. There’s nothing special, that I had to do this morning. I intend to get to the bottom of this and fast, so I can go back to sleep. I was having a dream about this girl. I can remember her name but I can’t remember why I was dreaming about her. I hate when that happens. Oh well, so much for waking up with a smile on my face.

As I enter the kitchen, the aroma of bacon frying in a skillet is almost too much to bear. I forgot what I was mad about as I sit in my usual spot and wait while taking in the tantalizing smell. If it were up to me, I would have bacon and only bacon every day for breakfast, but my Mom won’t let me. But, she let me have all the toast, eggs, and cereal that I want. When she does make bacon, she limits me to four strips. If she didn’t, I would eat it all.

While waiting for the bacon to finish frying I recall what I did one morning and wish I could do it again today: It happened three months ago. While I was eating breakfast, my Mom, who was making sandwiches for Dad’s lunch, stepped out of the kitchen. I was alone with all that, freshly fried, bacon lying on a plate next to the stove. I knew I couldn’t have more than my allotted share. The rest of the bacon was for the potato salad she planned to make later. Besides, knowing her, she probably counted the pieces. Hearing the bathroom door close, I moseyed over to the stove and dipped one side of four slices of toast into the bacon grease. Then, with the greased bread, I quickly made two lettuce and tomato sandwiches. Then, I put the sandwiches into zip lock bags and hid them in my backpack. I was able to return to my chair before she walked in.

Walking back into the kitchen my Mom looked at me with a confused look on her face; I could tell she felt something was up but couldn’t figure out what it was. Perhaps the smile on my face made her feel that way. She looked at the bacon; satisfied it was all there she shrugged her shoulders and continued making, my dad’s, sandwiches.

When I finished eating I gathered my stuff and gave her a kiss on the cheek as I walked out the door. That kiss must have confused her even more. It isn’t something I normally do. To my recollection, I only do that when she does something special for me. It must be the bacon, she mumbles as she puts the sandwich ingredients away.

I savored eating the sandwiches as I walked to school. Talk about being in hog heaven. Yes, I know a lot of bacon or bacon grease isn’t good for me but I like bacon.

Mom puts a plate of scrambled eggs, with four strips of bacon, in front of me and I say, Thanks for waking me up on my day off. She smiles as I continue, Today’s a holiday; even Dad has the day off. Okay, why am I being punished? What did I forget to do?

Before she can answer my Dad says, It’s not much; I just need your help for a few hours. After that you can have the rest of the day to yourself. I told you about it last week, but you must have forgotten. After pausing to take a sip of his coffee, he continues, The Christmas stuff needs to be taken down and put away. When Mom walks out of the kitchen, Dad, without taking his eyes of the morning paper, mumbles, Thank goodness your Mother isn’t big on decorating for Valentine’s or Easter. Then he looks at me and says, We’ll get started after you finish eating."

I reply, Dad, I didn’t forget; I could have sworn you said you wanted to do it this afternoon. When Mom returns, I look at her and say, Since I’m awake we might as well do it now.

My Mom, ignoring what I said, sits down and while buttering her toast, she looks at my Dad and says, Now Dear, I wish you would quit acting like this. I remember when you used to like decorating; at least you did before that dog backed you into the garage. As I recall, you were using a Styrofoam Candy Cane to defend yourself against the neighbor’s Toy Poodle.

Dad looks her straight in the eye and says, That dog doesn’t like me.

My Mom turns to me and says, Zachary, I’d like to make up for the little prank I pulled on you. How would you like one of your favorite meals for dinner?

With my mouth full of eggs and bacon I cheerfully nod yes.

Seeing that, she continues, Which one would you like, cream of mushroom soup with tuna and broccoli on an open face sandwich or cream of broccoli soup with a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich?

After swallowing my food, I say, That’s a tough one, let me think about it. When I finish eating, I get up, to put my dirty dishes in the sink and answer her question. I’ll have the soup and the BLT sandwich. Then I jokingly say, Mom, I accept your offer and you’re forgiven."

My mom, looks at me and with a snicker says, Don’t push it.

My Dad follows behind me and before he closes the door, he turns to my Mom. Before you ask me, I’ll have the same, but instead of bacon put salami on mine.

Mom turns to him and says, If you want salami you’ll have to pick some up; you ate it all last night. Dad has a look of surprise on his face as she continues, Yes, I heard you sneaking into the kitchen when you thought I was asleep. If you made yourself a sandwich, instead of eating jalapeño peppers, wrapped in salami, this morning, you wouldn’t be complaining about your stomach. Oh, while you’re at the store, get some antacids; we’re out. No, wait, on second thought, we’ll both go to the store; I just remembered I need other things.

In his defense, Dad says, I was hung…. When Mom gives him that look, He stops with the excuse and say, Yes Dear.

In case you didn’t figure it out, my Dad has the same passion for salami as I do for bacon. To help Dad’s cholesterol, Mom buys turkey salami for him. Don’t even talk to me about turkey bacon, I’m a purist.

With the decorations safely packed away my parents go shopping for more salami and other things. Before they left, Mom asked if I wanted to go, but I declined. After they leave I decide to have lunch. My taste buds tell me I should have some of last night’s pizza. While waiting for the pizza to warm up (I don’t like cold pizza) I’m reminded of what happened last month:

Mom ordered a pizza from this new place called The Fire Hydrant. When we opened the box, it looked appetizing. After taking a bite I grab a napkin and spit it out. My mother was going to say something, but before she could, Dad did the same thing. Looking a little confused, she takes a bite and also spits it out. It was gritty and had an off taste. Thinking it was spoiled Dad called the store and wanted it replaced.

When someone finally answered the phone Dad sternly said, You just delivered the worst pizza I ever had. It’s so bad I don’t think the neighbor’s dog would like it. Does the Health Department know what you’re serving? Because I know you’re new I won’t call them if you immediately send a replacement. If this happens again, I will never buy another one from you.

Before Dad could say anymore, he was put on hold so he can talk to the owner. He stands there, tapping his foot and getting impatient. I guess he really wanted to get his point across. Normally he won’t wait this long on hold.

After waiting for two minutes Dad was about to hang up when the owner finally answers, I’m very sorry about this, I’ve never had a dog refuse to eat my pizza before. He pauses and waits for a response; with no response he continues, Sir, you do know this is a pet specialty store don’t you?

Not wanting to have an argument with Mom, Dad orders a meat lover pizza from another place. The next day Dad takes The Fire Hydrant pizza over to our neighbor, not the one who owns the toy poodle, and asks if he wants it for his dog. This gesture confused the neighbor. He knows my Dad doesn’t care for dogs.

Before accepting the pizza, he asks, why?

Dad replies, my wife wanted to surprise Zachary and me with a pizza from that new place ‘The Fire Hydrant’. At the time she didn’t know what the place was. While shopping for groceries she overheard two people raving about it and wanted to give it a try.

The neighbor laughs hysterically as he accepts the pizza and closes the door. To this day Dad insists on calling when we order pizza. I get impatient as the fragrant odor, of the frying pizza dazzles my senses.

Lifting the lid, I smile. AHH, now that’s a perfect slice of reheated pizza. Now the hard part, waiting for the pizza to cool; one time I didn’t and burnt my lips. My lips blistered and looked like balloons. For two weeks, everything I ate was pureed and sucked through a straw. For several months I didn’t want anything to do with a breakfast or protein drinks. The only time those drinks were bearable was when I mixed them with sherbet.

Yes, I fry the pizza. Baking takes too long and I don’t like my pizza microwaved. For me, the perfect day-old pizza is to put a pad of butter or a dab of olive oil in a nonstick pan. After the frying pan heats up, I carefully place the slice in the middle of the pan. Finally, I put a cover over the pan and wait. This causes the bottom to become crispy. The cover helps in melting the cheese before the crust burns. It took me several tries to master this technique. Believe me, it’s well worth the effort.

Gingerly, I place the slice on a plate. After pouring myself a glass of milk and sitting down, I chomp down on the slice. As I take another bite my cell phone rings. While chewing on the pizza I ponder. Great, now what do I do. Because my mouth is full, I can’t talk and I can’t get the phone out of my pocket because my hands are greasy. While taking another bite, I think, oh well if it’s important they’ll call back.

As I enjoy the rest of the pizza I think, I’m glad Dad put me back on the family plan. After having one; being without a phone, even one this antiquated, sucks. Originally I was given the phone as a Christmas present. Yes, it’s a hand-me-down but I didn’t care. Antiquated or not, it’s still a cell phone. After taking a drink, I continue, I made the mistake of letting friends use it whenever they asked. The $350 in additional charges did not make my dad happy. When he got the bill, he grabbed the phone out of my hands, and refused to talk to me for a week. Finally, he calmed down enough to inform me that I will get the phone back when I pay him back.

Lucky for me, my grandparents heard about the fiasco and bailed me out; with the understanding, that, I’m not to expect any presents for