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Jack Piper and the Chamois of Fire - Chapter 14 Table of Contents

by Flava Dave

Did someone mention a possible "Conspiracy?"

ack's first semester at college continued at a dizzying pace and before he knew it, Thanksgiving Break had arrived. He caught a ride back to Des Moines with Dog Bait in the old rusty Mini Cooper.

Once again, Jack's small duffle bag and backpack sat on top of a pile of other bags and boxes in the tiny back seat of the car, and once again, Dog Bait assured Jack that most of the luggage belonged to his, "good-for-nothing brother, Scott," who was riding his bike home from Iowa City.

"Scott sure rides a lot," said Jack, figuring the distance to be over a hundred miles for the ride.

He's been getting over 20,000 miles a year for the last decase. Scott hasn't missed a dat of riding in as long as I can remember.
"Yeah," growled Dog Bait. "He's been getting over 20,000 miles a year for the last decade. Scott hasn't missed a day of riding in as long as I can remember. He kept riding even with a broken pelvis."

"That's pretty amazing," said Jack.

"I think my brother is brain damaged," scoffed Dog Bait. "You should see his training log. He keeps track of every mile, even if it's just a beater ride around the block."

Dog Bait continued, "Any ride with Scott that gets up over sixty miles immediately gets stretched into a century. He says, 'Hey, I know a shortcut. Don't worry, it'll only add about ten miles.' Next thing you know, you're in the middle of nowhere riding a whole lot farther than you'd planned, running out of food and water, all so that Scott can get a hundred miles."

Jack remembered that his first ride with Scott last year turned out to be a death march like this.

Scott Dickson Dog Bait was on a roll. "Then my brother starts talking about food. We're all half-starved and ready to pounce on the next pile of road kill just to tide us over until the next Casey's stop. Scott knows it and starts with, ‘Say, I was at this all-you-can-eat place last night. Mmmm! That was good! They had pizza, pasta, and some lasagna that was made with just the right amount of cheese and sauce. I must have gone back for five or six plates. Oh, and the desserts were fresh out of the oven.' When Scott starts talking like that, you can feel your stomach getting so desperate that it starts to digest itself."

Jack was already starting to feel hungry. His thoughts turned to the Thanksgiving dinner waiting for him at the orphanage. Jack hadn't been on the best of terms with Sister Kim when he left for college over three months ago. They had argued about trusting Brian Duffy, a Des Moines Register cartoonist and bicycle rider. It was an ugly way to say goodbye, but Sister Kim had still provided money for Jack's room and board. With the holidays approaching, it seemed fitting to try to patch things up.

The Mini Cooper's engine changed pitch as Dog Bait let up on the gas and coasted from the interstate onto a Des Moines exit ramp. It felt strange to be back on the streets Jack knew so well after being away from home for so long.

Upon reaching the orphanage driveway, Jack settled gas money with Dog Bait and then grabbed his bags and stepped out of the car. The Mini roared back to life and pulled out onto the street as Jack made his way up the orphanage steps. He hadn't quite figured out what he would say to Sister Kim, but Jack was eager to see the kindly nun and set things right.

Jack opened the front door, pushed his way past the dogs, and saw that he was just in time for the Thanksgiving meal. The rest of the orphans were scurrying around, setting the table and bringing in extra chairs, but unfortunately, Sister Kim was nowhere to be found.

Jack made his way to the kitchen, thinking that the kindly nun might be supervising last minute preparations, but was greeted by a sight that turned his appetite inside out. Standing there, holding a steaming turkey just taken from the oven, was none other than Des Moines Register cartoonist Brian Duffy.




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