Diagnostic Test

Oscar left work at four on a sunny June afternoon. A group of kids played in the yard across the street, spraying each other with the water hose. It seemed like a scene from an old movie. Did children still play outside? He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. The scene remained the same. He waved and climbed into his truck and drove by them. They aimed the hose at him, hitting the windshield with a splash. He laughed and turned the wipers on. A few minutes later, he cruised through a drive-thru and then munched on a paper-wrapped burger that had too much ketchup and not enough onions. The fries had enough salt on them to choke a horse. Nevertheless, his guts stopped grumbling as he drove on out to the other side of town to a street where the homes were smaller and older, giving him that nostalgic feeling again. The Reiser family was one of several young families who lived on this street many years ago. They consisted of a smiley mother, two daughters who grew into beautiful young women and on into smiley mothers themselves and then there was their dad, Jimmy Reiser- a man who never smiled. Oscar never wasted his waves on old Jimmy. The man's scowl could corrode a battery. And now at five o'clock, Oscar got the opportunity to pick up some side money by repairing old scowling Jimmy's car.

Oscar parked his truck by the curb in front of Jimmy's house and then grabbed his toolbox and marched up the driveway toward the garage. Jimmy just wanted him to change out the brake pads and then change the oil and give the old girl a good inspection since he hated taking the car to any other mechanic shop. He never gave Oscar the official reason for this but the, ahem, fertilizer brown paint job was the most likely suspect. Jimmy always left the front door unlocked. However, hold up. Did he always leave the front door cracked open?

Oscar eased his way onto the porch with his toolbox in hand. A voice echoed from the house. Jimmy's gravelly voice had a lot more age on it than the voice inside. Oscar waited. Another voice joined in. He swallowed and pushed the door open.

A guy stood there dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt with a yellow streak running through the center of it. He had his back to Oscar and faced Jimmy's TV. He also held a gym bag on his shoulder. Another guy entered the room from the kitchen and carried a gym bag as well. He wore a pair of sneakers that wore a pinkish color, sort of a hot dog, Oscar Meyer wiener color. Yellow Streak said, “Man, call him up. We're gonna-

Wiener Shoes cut him off and motioned toward Oscar standing in the doorway. Yellow Streak turned. They watched him, clutching their gym bags and flexing their fists. Oscar nodded. “Howdy, fellows. Is Jimmy around?”

Wiener Shoes swallowed. “Jimmy...”

Yellow Streak's mouth hung open.

Oscar said, “Yeah. Jimmy.”

Wiener Shoes blinked. “Yeah, he left for a minute. He had something to take care of. Are you...the...”

Yellow Streak bit his lip. His jaw trembled.

Oscar gave Wiener Shoes a sideways look, waiting.

Wiener Shoes kept pointing at Oscar. Then he looked up and snapped his fingers a few times and mumbled to himself. Yellow Streak covered his mouth. Oscar waited.

Wiener Shoes snapped again. “I know. You're the HVAC dude.”

Yellow Streak straightened up. “That's right. He said something about you coming.”

Oscar watched Yellow Streak. The young man averted his eyes.

Oscar watched Wiener Shoes. The young man's knee trembled.

Oscar pointed a finger at each of them. “You're the nephews.”

Yellow Streak breathed.

Wiener Shoes shrugged and grinned. “Nobody ever remembers us. You'd think he never talked about us.”

Oscar stepped inside, revealing the toolbox in his hand. The “nephews” took notice but didn't let their eyes linger there. Oscar shut the door behind himself. “Well, I guess I better get to work.”

Wiener Shoes said, “Shouldn't you be working outside, HVAC dude?”

Yellow Streak chuckled into his hand.

Oscar said, “I would if I was an HVAC dude. You see, I'm a mechanic 'dude' and I think you boys could use a tune-up.”

Wiener Shoes swung the gym bag with both hands. Oscar pivoted away and then slammed the toolbox into Wiener Shoes' knee. Wiener Shoes went down. Yellow Streak ran away. Oscar threw the toolbox. Yellow Streak tried to find a way around the closet door. The toolbox connected with his back.

Clank!

Yellow Streak deflated like rotten tires.

Wiener Shoes scrambled up from the floor and threw a left.

Bop!

Oscar staggered. Wiener Shoes threw a right. Oscar took it on his shoulder and then whipped Wiener Shoes into the front door.

Bruh!

Wiener Shoes staggered off it. Oscar kicked him in the gut. He hit the door again and sagged to the floor. Yellow Streak threw his own gym bag. Oscar caught it. Yellow Streak raced to the kitchen. Oscar jogged over and grabbed the long shirt tail. Yellow Streak ran in place. Oscar waited and enjoyed the guy running on an imaginary treadmill. Yellow Streak huffed and slowed. Oscar spun him around and wrapped the shirt over his head and kneed him in the gut. Then he walked him back into the living room and tossed him down beside Wiener Shoes. He grabbed a roll of duct tape from his toolbox and then wrapped their ankles and wrists together. Then he sat on Jimmy's sofa and leaned forward and caught his breath. He laced his fingers together. “All right. Who are you two?”

Wiener Shoes frowned at Oscar.

Yellow Streak stared into an abyss with leaky eyes.

Oscar waited.

Wiener Shoes' frown grew uglier.

Yellow Streak's leaky eyes floated.

Hhmm...

Toe Rotation service...

Oscar huffed and grabbed his toolbox. He removed an adjustable wrench and cranked it open. Then he grabbed Yellow Streak's shoe. Yellow Streak broke into the ugly crying face. Oscar moved to Wiener Shoes' shoe. Wiener Shoes raised his chin. Oscar removed the shoe and adjusted the wrench to the big toe. Yellow Streak squirmed like a salty slug. Oscar cranked on Wiener Shoes' big toe. Wiener Shoes groaned. Yellow Streak fell onto his side and bucked about. Wiener Shoes groaned and gritted his teeth. Oscar cranked harder. Wiener Shoes opened his mouth and moaned up at the shoe gods in the sky. Oscar released the hold. “You know? It doesn't matter who you are.”

Oscar picked up the gym bags and unzipped them and inspected them. Pocket knives and watches and a few necklaces and a couple of handguns and a few gold coins and then one more object. Oscar held up the electric toothbrush. Yellow Streak stared at him with tear-stained cheeks. “Well...I do have some dental issues.”

Wiener Shoes rolled his eyes.

Oscar spread the many objects on the floor, like he was running a booth at a flea market. “Jimmy ain't going to like this.”

Wiener Shoes spat.

A warm loogie hit Oscar's boot.

Yellow Streak cried into the carpet.

Wiener Shoes cackled. “Yeah...will he like that?”

Hhmm...

Patch job...

Oscar took a work rag from his toolbox and said, “Well, I reckon I AM going to work on an AC unit today.” He pointed his rag at the saliva on his boot and then he pointed the rag at Wiener Shoes and said, “It looks like we have a leak in the radiator hose. Now, you want to wipe away any dirt and debris first. Looks like there's plenty there.” He took the rag and rubbed it across Wiener Shoes' mouth and jaw and chin and his whole face. Wiener Shoes squirmed and shifted but Oscar wiped it all down, giving him a taste of oil, antifreeze and shop grime. He drew the rag back. Wiener Shoes closed his eyes and spat out the grime in little “tuahs”. Oscar returned the rag to Wiener Shoes' face and wiped it down again. He turned to Yellow Streak and said, “You see, sometimes you have to go back over your work to make sure. I'm sure you know all about hard work.” Yellow Streak cried and chewed on the carpet, probably hoping for a thumb. Oscar removed the rag. Wiener Shoes sat there in a daze with his tongue lolled out like a loose car door seal. Oscar slapped a piece of duct tape onto his face and wrapped it around his head a few times. Then he squeezed it on good and tight. “Now, that should get us down the road a piece.”

Yellow Streak was now in the “World's Ending” sobbing phase. Oscar pointed at him and said, “Now, in your case, my friend, you have an oil leak, most likely the rear main seal because it is'a leakin' fierce. Let's see if this re-sealer can get you fixed up.” Oscar pulled a small gray bottle from his toolbox and opened it. Yellow Streak now stared at him with his mouth wide open and his lips trembling. Oscar grabbed his jaw and turned his head and tilted the bottle toward his mouth. Yellow Streak said, “No, no! Listen, man.”

Oscar held the tilted bottle over Yellow Streak while he spilled the beans of who he was and who Wiener Shoes was and where they lived. Oscar drew the bottle back. He asked him where they worked. Yellow Streak revealed that they didn't. Wiener Shoes sat with a hazy, high expression, motionless. Yellow Streak revealed where his own father worked, though. Oscar shook his head. “You know, that's the same place Jimmy worked at for over thirty years. He probably worked with your dad. And here you two were going to steal his stuff. He's an ornery old goat but he earned everything he's got. He even buried his wife last year, too.”

Yellow Streak sobbed. “I'm so sorry, man.”

“It's Oscar.”

“I'm sorry, Oscar. We...we were wrong. Dad's going to be so pissed at me...and Mom...oh man...”

Oscar watched the two lumps on the floor. Then he stood up.

Yellow Streak sobbed. “Are you going to hand us over to the cops?”

Wiener Shoes looked up at Oscar with eyes that glowed like “check engine” lights.

“Are you?”

***

Oscar let the old Nissan Pathfinder down and removed the jack from the oil-stained floor of Jimmy Reiser's garage. A new SUV entered the driveway. He paused and waved. Jimmy's daughter parked the SUV and stepped out. Jimmy climbed out of the other side, and she followed him up the driveway. Jimmy scowled at Oscar. “You get it running right?”

Oscar wiped oil from his hands. “The brake pads were gone. But they're all new and replaced. The oil couldn't be any better. I'm afraid this old heap is going to run for a lot more miles, Jimmy.”

Jimmy grunted. “Yeah. What's the damage?”

Oscar followed Jimmy inside, revealing the damage. Jimmy's daughter tagged along and grabbed herself a bottled water from the fridge and offered one to the boys. Oscar declined. Jimmy grunted. She gave a bottle to each of them. They sat at the dining room table and Jimmy wrote the check. Oscar thanked them and enjoyed a hug from Jimmy's daughter and headed for the front door. They followed him into the living room. His daughter gasped. Jimmy pointed at Yellow Streak and Wiener Shoes and said, “What's all this?”

Oscar watched them. “Boys?”

Jimmy and his daughter waited.

Wiener Shoes sighed and moved his lips.

Yellow Streak said, “We...”

Jimmy said, “Yeah? Hey, why's all my stuff on the floor?”

Yellow Streak made the ugly crying face. Oscar kicked his shoe. Yellow Streak said, “We...we tried to rob you, Mr. Reiser.”

Jimmy looked over at Oscar.

Oscar said, “That's right. They had all this stuff on the floor in those two gym bags there and were headed out the door when they ran into me.”

Jimmy scowled at the boys. His daughter scoffed. “Let's call the police, Dad.” She pulled her phone from her purse.

Yellow Streak sobbed.

Wiener Shoes searched the floor with his eyes.

Jimmy tapped his daughter's arm. “Just a second.” He glared at the boys. Then he focused on Yellow Streak. “Do I know you?”

“You...work...you used to work with my dad.”

Oscar told Jimmy the name.

Jimmy worked his mouth around. “Your dad's a good fellow. Helped me out several times. What was you doing this for?”

Yellow Streak shook his head. “Man, I wish I hadn't, sir. I'm so disappointed with myself. I know you're a good man. I don't...I don't know...”

Jimmy's daughter said, “Horse patties. He's just trying to trick us, Dad.”

Jimmy scowled. “I know it.” He turned to Wiener Shoes. “What's your story?”

Oscar relayed the name.

Jimmy scowled.

Everyone watched Jimmy. He rubbed his neck and said, “Yeah, I can't see any way around this. Oscar here is honest and if he says you did it, I take him at his word. Go ahead and call them.”

His daughter dialed.

The two would-be thieves writhed on the sofa.

Oscar said, “Hold on. I have an idea.”

Jimmy's daughter paused.

Jimmy looked at Oscar.

Oscar said, “Now, I got into a little trouble when I was younger. I'm guessing you did, too.”

Jimmy considered the idea. “Naw, I didn't. My brother did, though. The judge told him he could go into the Army. So, he did. Maybe these two should go into the Army.”

Oscar said, “Maybe. That's a thought. I think compassion has its place.”

Jimmy's daughter huffed like a brand-new exhaust pipe. Oscar asked her to speak to him for a moment by the door. They did so in whispers. Then Oscar returned to Jimmy and said, “Listen, Jimmy. These two guys tried to do something bad but, in the end, they failed. Now, maybe they deserve a second chance. Your brother got one.”

Jimmy studied the floor. “Well...I might-

Oscar stepped around Jimmy and took his daughter's phone in his hand and showed a picture to Jimmy. The picture showed Wiener Shoes and Yellow Streak on the sofa just seconds ago. Yellow Streak was smirking.

Smirking.

Oscar said, “What does that look like to you, Jimmy?”

Jimmy scowled. “It looks...well, it smells awful bad.”

Oscar studied the now-not-smirking Yellow Streak. “I think the problem goes much deeper than we thought. Some tune-ups require time in the garage and others require time in the county lock-up.”

Jimmy scowled at his daughter. “Make the call.”