Plumb lines

“The thing about the Mario Brothers, see, is they don’t really have anything to do with plumbing,” Old Johnson said, as he sat with his chest almost touching the top of the bar at “The Boater’s Net.” It sat on the land end of a long peer that he used to fish from as a kid. The pride and joy of the Boater’s Net was its bar top, reclaimed from a speakeasy south of the Mason-Dixon line.

It was four in the afternoon. Old Johnson used to be a plumber, but now mainly he sat around bars or tending to his garden or maybe walking down to the elementary school and arguing with the principal while he took a break and smoked his pipe.

The other hobby Johnson had, which struck everyone as odd at his age, in his situation, was playing video games. The bartender at the Boater’s Net had worked there ten years, and he probably heard more about the video games than anyone else. He stood there like you’ve seen plenty of bartenders stand in movies, cleaning glasses or wiping down the hardwood. Listening to Old Johnson but not saying anything.

“I mean, there are pipes everywhere and such-like, as if that means anything. Little kid can crawl through a pipe. Doesn’t make him a plumber.

“I remember once… now this was something, my daughter Elly wanted a playhouse. A big ole fort for her dolls and her, she said. So I took a bunch of ole pipes, quarter-inchers and one-inchers and I screwed ‘em all together. I even welded a few of them.

“I built her the damndest fort. Just this big wiry concoction of pipes. It had three different levels she could climb up to, and the top one had one of those old-fashioned metal telescopes that you used to be able to pay a quarter to look through. Found it at a second hand shop. Lucky.

“She couldn’t look over much with it but that mangy elm we had out back and into the backyard of Linda Sturpin’s place, and she didn’t even bother to mow, but I think Elly, I mean, you remember Elly, had as much fun imagining what she might see up there and anyway…

“I painted the whole thing lavender, you know. Because that’s what she wanted. People were against it but it was Elly’s fort, not theirs. Found myself some real nice pieces of oak for the floors, too. People called it a sculpture. An ‘ode to plumbing’ that weird kid who used to go with Lucy Raspin’s boy called it to me once, but I guess that was after Elly spent much time up in it anymore. I didn’t want to take it down any more than anybody.”

Old Johnson looked down into his glass. It was empty. “Guess building that wasn’t any more plumbing than what them Mario Brothers do, running away from crabs through big green pipes, such-like.”

He looked down into the empty glass again. “If you got water to spare I guess I’d have a glass.”

“Sure, Johnson,” the bartender said. He poured it, and Old Johnson could see the sink from his spot on the bar. It was a nice one. A new one. Very modern and urban looking. He had thought that fancy sink looked funny under that antique bar since they’d got it, but he never said anything. The principal of the elementary school was the only person he much liked to argue with.

“Heard anything from Elly?” the bartender asked him. They’d all liked Elly. The girl had a pretty, pretty laugh. She used it all the time.

“No. No I haven’t. Don’t know anyone that has. Guess it was yesterday… that she’s been gone three years. I guess… well, I don’t guess I won’t anytime, unless… well. What about that girl of yours? She’s in high school now, isn’t she?”

“She’s fine, Johnson. Doing great.”

“I expected she would. She had all the marks. I know the marks to look for, you know?”

The bartender looked at him and nodded, but he didn’t say anything else.