April 11, 2006
When Life Hands You Lemons.
Bronnie the Dog smiled gleefully as she poured the lemonade from the wide, glass pitcher, filling the scuffed plastic cup. She handed it across the wooden frame of the lemonade stand that Daddy had built that weekend, to the little girl who lived down the street.
“There you go!” Bronnie beamed. “Enjoy! It’s such a hot day, after all.”
“It sure is!” the little girl said, clutching her rag doll against her side with one arm, and taking a swig of the cool, sweet lemonade. “This lemonade is great!”
Bronnie snorted.
“Our chef is determined to make it the best it can be. Why, he’s been working on the recipe for –“
“David, I’m telling you. It must be a cup of sugar to five cups of water. It simply HAS to be.” Fogerty growled, pushing the chef’s hat up over his eyes, as he carried the big, steel tub – with David on the other side – the lemonade sloshing about, and occasionally spilling over the side.
“You’re going to rot the teeth of every kid in Greensborough.” David growled, “That’s all I’m saying.”
Fogerty rolled his eyes, as they set the tub down behind the lemonade stand. The park had only had it’s grass mown that morning, and the smell was fresh and sweet, floating on the warm spring air, mixing with the clover and the bloom of the flowers.
In the distance, a group of men in suits were walking down the long, winding path that led from the road to the park. They carried bats, and Bronnie beamed at them. Maybe, when they finished their game, they’d be thirsty. It was a good thing that she’d asked Fogerty to whip up that last batch of lemonade, or they might have run out.
The stand was tall, with a broad, wooden sign across the top, and an old wooden packing crate for a base. Daddy had painted on the sign: “LEMONADE”. They’d seen an old movie that weekend, before they had to go to bed, where some kids had a lemonade stand – and Fogerty thought it sounded like fun. So did Bronnie – and so did David, so they woke Daddy up bright and early on Saturday morning, and they asked him to help them. Mummy helped with the lemonade – until Fogerty decided that his recipe was the best one. Mummy had to agree, though – old Fogerty may have had a point. When she followed Fogerty’s directions, the lemonade was cool and sweet, with a delicious tangy flavour.
Bronnie looked up and grinned a toothy grin as the men approached the stand. There were three of them, all dressed in identical black suits and sunglasses – one of whom was chewing on a matchstick.
“Lemonade, Sirs?” Bronnie asked, holding out a cup.
The tallest of the men looked down at Bronnie.
“You licensed, kid?” he asked gruffly.
Bronnie looked around, and began trembling.
“Fogerty? Fogerty!” she called out. The frog looked up from where he was stirring the lemonade with a long, wooden spoon. He walked over to the stand, and smiled.
“Can we interest you boys in a drink?” he asked, beaming.
“I said –“ the tall man repeated, “Do you kids have a license?”
Fogerty bit his lip.
“I didn’t realize that we needed one.” he said slowly.
The man laughed darkly.
“Council regulations.” he said, “Any beverage providers must have the appropriate license.”
“Even lemonade stands?” David asked, walking over to see what all the fuss was about.
“You gettin’ smart with me, kid?” the man barked.
David shook his head: “No, Sir. I was just –“
“We have the authority to shut you punks down. We’re bringing a LICENSED lemonade stand into this park – and that means, you kids have gotta amscray. Like – right now.” the man growled.
“And if we don’t?” Fogerty asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
The tall man shrugged, and reached out for the sign that Daddy made, ripping it away from the lemonade stand and breaking it over his knee.
“Hey!” David cried, “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
The second man reached out and grabbed the stand, tipping it over. It broke into pieces in front of them, lemonade splashing out onto the ground.
Bronnie yelped and leaped over to David, wrapping her arms around his leg.
“Make them stop, David!”
Fogerty put up his fists.
“You’re going to have to get past me.” the frog growled, his green fists waving about in the air.
Laughing, the two men picked Fogerty up and tossed him aside. He crashed into David and Bronnie, and the three became a tangled mess of limbs, thrashing about on the ground.
They walked over to the tub, and picked it up, tipping Fogerty’s lovely lemonade out onto the ground. The lemonade splashed across the grass, eventually reaching David, Fogerty, and Bronnie – soaking them in the sticky drink.
“Now,” the tall man said, poking Fogerty in the chest with a gloved finger, “We’re putting a LICENSED lemonade stand in here. And there ain’t nothin’ you kids can do about it. So, just scram before you get hurt.”
And, with that, the men left, laughing uproariously, the smashed up remains of the lemonade stand scattered across the sticky, wet grass.
“Boy.” Bronnie said, “Someone should stand up to those guys.”
Fogerty stood, dusting himself off.
“But who?” Fogerty asked, “We can’t do anything. They’re bigger than us. And tougher.”
David paused for a moment, remembering a story that he’d seen on the news that night.
“I think I have an idea.” he said slowly, “Come on. Let’s get home. I need to make a phone call.”
They were standing in the Greensborough Video Library, in the horror section. David looked at Fogerty and shrugged. This was where they’d been told to come – by a Mister Lee – if they wanted to hire the A-Team. But, looking around, there was nobody to be seen. Actually, the store was surprisingly empty. Nobody was around, except an old fellow that none of them recognized, who was serving at the counter. He looked very old, with white hair and a wide, grey moustache perched atop his lip.
“I guess they’re not coming.” Bronnie sighed.
David shrugged. “Mister Lee said to meet this… Hannibal Smith here. At 10 a.m, in the horror section.”
“Well, there’s nobody here – is there?” Bronnie said. “There’s nobody here.”
“Except us.” Fogerty said.
“Sure. We’re here. But nobody ELSE is here.”
“’Scuse me, kids.” a voice called out from behind them. They turned to look. It was the old man from the counter.
“Can I… help you with anything?” the old man asked, as he hobbled towards them. He paused to cough loudly, and blew his nose on a wide, white handkerchief.
David smiled sadly. “It doesn’t look like it. Thanks anyway.”
“Are you sure?” the old man asked, “Good lookin’ kids like you. You look like you could use some cheerin’ up.”
“We don’t have any money, Sir.” Bronnie said softly, “Thanks anyway.”
“Tell ya what.” The old man said, winking. “I’ll letcha take a movie for free. It’s on the house.”
“That’s very nice of you.” Fogerty said, “But, I am not sure we’ll have time this weekend…”
“That’s a good point.” The old man spluttered, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigar. He bit the end off, and spat it onto the floor, before lighting it with a shiny, silver zippo.
“David, Fogerty, Bronnie.” he said, standing up straight and pulling his fake moustache off his top lip, “You’ve just hired the A-Team. I’m Hannibal Smith.”
A younger man, with sandy brown hair and a handsome face stepped out of the office.
“Hannibal, are we going to be long? I have a tennis lesson at eleven, and I was really hoping that we could kind of wrap this up..”
“This is my associate, Faceman.” Hannibal announced, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. “And I think we’d better get moving.”
Hannibal turned to Face.
“Have B.A bring the van around to the front.” he said. “And we’d better get Murdock.”
Face sighed. Breaking Murdock out of the V.A hospital was becoming increasingly risky. They had suspected that Murdock was the pilot for the A-Team for months, now. It was only a matter of time until Decker anticipated them breaking him out, and they’d be back to the stockade.
Face left through the rear door, and Hannibal turned to face David, Bronnie, and Fogerty.
“Now, Mister Lee said that the three of you run some kind of lemonade stand, and some scumbags decided to move in on your territory. That right?” he said, the cigar clenched between his teeth.
“Uh-huh, Mr. Hannibal.” Bronnie said quietly, “They broke our stand and tipped out Fogerty’s lemonade.”
“Did they say why?”
David coughed. “They said that we didn’t have a license. They said that they were going to move in and take over.”
“I tried to stop them,” Fogerty said, “But they were too tough for me.”
Hannibal smirked. Outside, a black, custom GMC ’82 van had screeched to a halt. It had a bright, red stripe up one side, and Face emerged from behind the sliding metal door.
“Don’t worry. Dealing with slime like that is our specialty.” Hannibal said, grinning. He pulled out a shimmering, steel Colt .45 and racked a shell into the chamber.
Bronnie gulped, as Hannibal pushed the glass door open, gesturing towards the van.
Face rapped once, then twice on the bell at the V.A reception desk. Bronnie stood nervously beside him. She’d been told to simply play along, and do whatever Mr. Peck said. He had changed into an important-looking military uniform, and was carrying a manila folder.
A portly nurse walked over to them, her brightly coloured lips curled up at the ends with suspicion.
“May I help you?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
Face held out the folder.
“Transfer for H.M Murdock.” he barked. “Effective immediately.”
“I wasn’t informed.” the nurse said slowly, “May I ask why he’s being –“
“Possible contagion. Hereditary.”
“Contagion?” the nurse gasped, “What kind of contagion?”
Face pointed at Bronnie, who gulped nervously.
“This is Bronnie Murdock.” he said sternly, “H.M Murdock’s sister.”
“His SISTER?” the nurse said, her eyes wide, “This is a DOG.”
Face dropped to his knees and stroked Bronnie’s head. He looked up at the nurse and frowned.
“Please, ma’am. Don’t talk like that in front of Ms. Murdock. She may be suffering from some… odd physical afflictions, but that’s the nature of canus metamorphus.”
The nurse raised an eyebrow.
“Canus metamorphus?”
Face nodded: “Comes on in middle age. The subject goes crazy, then begins to physically change into some kind of dog-creature. I take it you’re familiar with Mr. Murdock’s psychiatric history?”
“Well, I-“
“The whole family is crackers.” Face muttered, looking at his watch, “Can we speed this up? I have a lot of members of the Murdock family to isolate today, and –“
The nurse nodded.
“I’ll fetch Mr. Murdock. I won’t be a moment.”
And, then she was gone. Face looked down at Bronnie and winked.
“A LEMONADE STAND.” Murdock yelped, almost leaping out of his seat as the sleek GMC rode through the streets of Greensborough. “I’ve always wanted to run a lemonade stand – ever since I was a kid.”
“You still ARE a kid, sucker.” B.A barked, his chains jangling as he steered the van through the streets.
“There’s no need to be like that in front of our new friends, Baracan one.” Murdock said, “This little bitty froggy, here – he can talk just as well as you and me. You gotta be impressed with THAT, B.A.”
“Better, in some cases.” Fogerty said, raising an eyebrow. Hannibal smiled, blowing a stream of smoke into the air.
“I don’t see what good taking over the stand will do.” David said, “Those goons are just going to come back and break it up.”
“I’m counting on it.” Hannibal said, grinning, “Face, how do you feel about going into the beverage trade?”
Face rolled his eyes.
“I ran an officers club in Da Nang, Colonel. I’m sure I can handle a lemonade stand. If I recall, it was your fights with our friend Decker that led to us being shut down.”
B.A’s eyes darkened.
“And if I remember, sucker, you lost that club because you didn’t have no license. You didn’t even own it – you cheated some fool out of it in a card came in Saigon.”
Face shrugged. “I relieved a certain gentleman of an excess piece of real estate that was being unused due to the war effort.”
“You cheated him, sucker.” B.A snarled, “You cheated him, then he came back to collect. And he busted it up.”
“Well, what can I say?” Face replied, “Some people are just bad losers.”
“What did you say you did, David?” Murdock asked, “I’m sure your little furry friend told me that you write.”
David looked at his feet.
“I’d like to write books when I grow up. Maybe.” he said quietly.
Murdock reached into the pocket of his brown leather jacket, retrieving a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. He slid them onto his nose and pushed his hair back.
“It’s a good thing I’m here, then.” he said, in a British accent, “For, you see, I am H.M Murdock. Writer. Critic. Thinker.”
“You’re H.M Murdock, the crazy fool.” B.A spat, “You ain’t no writer.”
“Bosco, how dare you be so brusque?” Murdock said elegantly, “I am a writer of great, unpublished works of fiction. My war diaries are simply the stuff of literary legend. And, my young David, I offer my teachings to you. The teachings that spring from one of the finest creative minds of this generation.”
B.A span around angrily.
“Hannibal, you tell this crazy fool that he ain’t no writer. I ain’t gonna put up with his crazy talk on this job. I’m doin’ this so that the kids can get their lemonade – and I ain’t gonna do it if I gotta listen to this fool’s crazy rap.”
“You do it for the children?” Murdock said softly, “My, Bosco. Your generosity is without bounds.”
“Do you think your work will translate into film?” Hannibal asked, grinning, “Don’t limit yourself to a single medium.”
“Colonel, with all due respect,” Murdock chortled, “I am a writer. A writer writes, does he not? He does not dabble in a medium as crass as ‘film’.”
“Point taken, Captain.” Hannibal replied, before pointing through the windshield. “B.A – take a right here.”
Hannibal turned around in his seat and grinned at David, Fogerty, and Bronnie.
“We’re going into the lemonade business.” he announced with a smile, his cigar clenched between his teeth.
Face stood behind the lemonade stand – which they had quickly fashioned out of the pieces of the old one – and handed out cupfuls to the local kids, who were, by now, queuing up in numbers so great that the line led out of the park. B.A and Murdock stood behind Face, stirring the lemonade in the vat, while Fogerty looked on, making sure that the recipe was just right. Bronnie was pouring the cups for Face, while David stood with Hannibal, looking on.
“I can’t believe all these thirsty kids.” Face said, passing another cup over the rough, wooden counter, “Have we got enough of this stuff?”
“But, of course.” Murdock said in a faux French accent, “My froggy associate and I have concocted a drink that is so truly refreshing that it will go down in epicurean history.”
“Murdock’s right.” Fogerty nodded, “This is gonna knock everyone’s socks off.”
B.A looked at Murdock and growled.
“Stop talking your fool talk, and just keep stirrin’.”
Murdock looked up.
“B.A, I am an artist. Do you think this is just water, sugar, and lemon juice?”
“That’s exactly what it is, Murdock. Don’t you be tryin’ to tell me otherwise, neither. I’m tired of your crazy rap.”
Shaking his head, Murdock laughed.
“There is more in this than the ingredients, B.A. Consider the gastronomic alchemy that is taking place – right here, in this tub.” Murdock said, gazing with wonder at the lemonade, “Fogerty’s recipe is something else – but we’ve added the magic ingredient. And that is love.”
B.A could take it no more. He reached out, wrapping a powerful hand around Murdock’s head and pushed it into the tub. Murdock splashed around, and Fogerty leaped aside on strong, green legs.
David looked up at Hannibal.
“Are they always like that?” he asked.
“No, not always.” Hannibal smirked, “Sometimes, they fight.”
“Well, well. What’s going on, here?” a deep, booming voice called out.
Everyone turned to see the same three thugs approaching the stand. Hannibal stepped forward to meet them.
“Morning, boys.” he said loudly, “Care for a drink? Must be thirsty work being slime.”
The tallest one smirked.
“You got a big mouth on you, haven’t you?” he growled, poking Hannibal in the chest. “I told these kids already – no license, no stand. We’re moving in OUR stand, and we’re gonna charge the kids money.”
B.A released Murdock, who fell to the ground, gasping for air.
“What’d you say, sucker?” B.A snarled, “You got somethin’ to say about the kids?”
“Who’s the freak in the chains?” the head thug said, grinning. “Listen, all of you should probably take a hike before you get hurt.”
“See, that’s the thing.” Hannibal said, smiling. “I never know when to quit before I get hurt. My mother used to tell me that it was a major character flaw.”
The three thugs looked at each other and began to laugh, their fists curling into balls.
“Alright.” the leader said, “You asked for it –“
He was cut off, as Face squeezed the trigger of the Ruger, firing off a volley of rounds into the air. He put one foot up on the lemonade stand and aimed it at the face of the boss.
“You asked for what?” Face quipped, his finger stroking the trigger.
Hannibal pulled out his Colt .45, and pushed it into the man’s broad, muscular chest. His gloved thumb pulled back the hammer and he grinned.
“You know, scumbags like yourselves get off on pushing people around. Well, you know something? David, Bronnie, and Fogerty are friends of mine – and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it is seeing my friends being bullied.”
“Listen, we work for the council.” the boss said, his hands raised, “We’re just doin’ our job.”
“And we’re doing ours.” Hannibal said, “We’re exterminators, and we deal with vermin like you. Now, you run along home – and you tell your boss that Hannibal Smith sends his regards, from David, Bronnie, and Fogerty’s lemonade stand. And, the next time you clowns show up, we won’t be so forgiving.”
“Come on, Jack. Let’s go.” one of the goons growled to the boss, yanking him by the sleeve, “Let’s get out of here.”
They began to run. But, not before the boss turned around and pointed at Hannibal.
“You’ll be sorry you did that, man!” he yelled, “You can count on THAT.”
And then, they were gone. Hannibal turned to David and grinned, giving him the thumbs up. David returned the gesture with a smile.
“You don’t think that’s the end of them, do you?” Bronnie asked nervously.
“I doubt it.” Hannibal said, lighting a cigar, “They’ll try something else. But, we’ll be ready.”
B.A rolled his eyes.
“Hannibal’s on the jazz, man. He’s on the jazz.” the big man muttered under his breath.
Hannibal smiled, reaching down for a cup of lemonade.
“I love it when a plan comes together.”
