Cranberry Red: A Novel

16. Fred and Oscar

65 What you got there, Fred?” asked Oscar Anderson. Oscar sat in a rocking chair on the back porch of his farm house, enjoying the end of one of the first warm days so far this season. He had seen his friend pull up in his 1970 green and rusty Chevy pickup, stop, lean over, and pick up something from the seat, then step out of the truck and walk toward the old, fading farm house. “What’s it look like I got? Your eyesight leavin’ you, too?” said Fred. “Looks you got a couple quarts of strawberries. Where’d you get those?” “Whattya mean, where’d I get ’em? I grew ’em, that’s what I did. In my patch out back the barn,” answered Fred. “You still got a berry patch behind that barn of yers? Ain’t you a little old for growing strawberries?” “You want decent strawberries, you gotta grow your own. No way around it. Them berries you buy in the store, them big red ones they grow out in California, they taste like nothin’. They’re all looks and no taste.” “So where you goin’ with them berries?” asked Oscar. “Whattya mean, where am I goin’ with ’em?” “Well, you’re standin’ there holdin’ onto ’em like they’re gold.” “I’m givin’ ’em to you, Oscar. Somethin’ to put on your Wheaties.” “I don’t eat Wheaties. Stuff’s too expensive. I eat oatmeal. Every day I eat oatmeal for breakfast.” Fred and Oscar 16 “Well put ’em on your oatmeal then.” “I believe I will. Nice lookin’ berries.” “They taste like strawberries, too. Not like those ones from California.” “You just told me about those California berries,” Oscar reminded Fred. “I did?” “Well, set them berries down and have a seat,” Oscar said. “Sit here in this spare rocker. Rest them old bones of yours.” “Believe I will,” said Fred as he gently placed the two quarts of deep red strawberries on the side of the porch, climbed up the three steps, and sat down in the well-worn wooden rocker. After a brief time, with both men gently rocking and the sound of the creaking filling the quiet evening air, Fred asked, “What’s new?” “What’s what?” asked Oscar. “New. What’s new?” said Fred. “Who?” “Not ‘who.’ New,” Fred said more loudly. “Just readin’ the Argus,” said Oscar. “Readin’ about this Osborne University. Says here in the paper they’ve come up with a new miracle chemical.” “A what?” “Chemical. New miracle chemical,” replied Oscar. “Thought I heard right. What’s it supposed to do? Ask me, we got way too many chemicals. Chemicals everywhere. Chemicals for everything.” “This here Osborne chemical is called Cranberry Red. Supposed to make cranberries more healthy than they are,” Oscar explained. He reached over and picked up the newspaper from the floor, paging through it until he found the article. “Says here that Cranberry Red’s gonna make guys like us live longer,” said Oscar. “Doubt that,” said Fred. “Besides, if ever’body lives so damn long, there like as not won’t be enough room for all of us. Damn country will be so cluttered up with old people, ever’thing will probably just come to a halt. One big people jam.” 66 Fred and Oscar 67 Fred and Oscar “Be kind of nice to be around to see if that’s what will happen,” said Oscar. He had a big smile on his face. He glanced over toward the strawberries and then began rocking again. He swatted a mosquito that lit on his bare arm. “Too bad they can’t come up with a chemical to git rid of these bugs.” ...