Mr. Charlie

Mr. Charlie by jusdealem



Back when I was a child, there was a rather strange man who lived at the end of our street in an old Victorian house with his spinster sister. His name was Charlie, but that's not what most folks called him. Years before, someone had given Charlie the nickname Norman Bates and it had stuck. Over time, Charlie had become our own hometown boogey man. To keep us kids in line, our parents would set rules that always ended with "...or Norman will get you!" When playing outside, we stayed strictly in the front yard, not daring to cross the street even for a wayward ball, for fear that Norman would suddenly appear out of nowhere and surely "get us".

His sister, Ms. Adell, was the local librarian and she managed to get Charlie a job there as the janitor. When I was about ten years old, my mother, too busy with my younger siblings, said I could walk the three blocks to the library all by myself. I could hardly contain my excitement as I ran out through the screen door. The Crawford County Library was my absolute favorite place on earth and I spent many hours there reading Nancy Drew novels and poetry. The best poetry, of course, is a limerick and I liked one that went something like:

There was a young man at our school
Who really thought himself cool.
The girls thought him great
And a really nice date
But I think that he was a fool.

One evening, I was late leaving the library. As I was getting my things and waving goodbye to Ms. Adell, I heard an awful commotion outside on the lawn. Stepping outside, I saw Johnny Reed, the eighth grade bully, and all his cronies gathered around an old man. "Freak!" they yelled in unison. From the steps, I could see that it was Charlie whom they had surrounded. Johnny had a large piece of wood in his right hand and he pointed it at Charlie, "You don't scare me, old man!" He looked so pitiful and confused as the boys scathingly taunted him. Without thinking, I rushed to his side and wrapped my arm in his. "Back off, you bullies!" I screamed at them. "Come on, Mr. Charlie, let's get inside."

He leaned against me as I helped him up the library steps. The boys cursed at me, then began to throw rocks at us. As it so happens, my father, on his way home from work, drove by that very minute and saw the group of boys throwing rocks at his little girl. He immediately stopped the car and ran towards us. Most of them took off running, but he managed to grab Johnny by the shirt collar and wouldn't let him loose. "Hooligins", I heard my father mutter, "going straight to hell in a handbasket if they don't change their ways!" Ms. Adell called Johnny's mother and they all got in alot of trouble that night.

As we were leaving, my father shook Mr Charlie's hand and invited him and Ms. Adell over to our house for Sunday dinner. "Well, take care, Norman." my father said. I gasped at his embarrasing faux pas and he stammered, "Er, uh, Charlie! I'm sorry, I meant Charlie!" Smiling and waving, he quickly ushered me to the car.

After hearing the story, my mother was absolutely dumbfounded about what had happened and said my bravery had earned me a trip to the ice cream parlor. Yum!