serial fiction

Delroy and the Cheese — Part Five

In which the cheese is inspected

This is the fifth chapter of an 18 chapter series about life in a Canadian tree-planting camp. If you’re new, you may want to start at the beginning or go to the complete list of Delroy and the Cheese chapters.

Back at camp that evening I sat down with Andrea and Susan and told them about the bear and Delroy’s cheese-licking habits. They were more interested in the bear than the cheese-licking.

“I just hope it stays the hell away from camp,” said Andrea.

“Yeah,” said Susan. “Spiders I can deal with. Even snakes don’t bother me. But anything with teeth that weighs more than a refrigerator freaks me out. Were you scared?”

“Not really. I had Delroy with me. I would have just tripped him and run.”

“It’s not the bear that worries me,” said Andrea. “It’s what might happen to it. What if they have to kill it? I mean if it hurts one of us, that would be terrible. But we don’t belong here. We’re the invaders, not the bear. I’d hate for an animal like that to die just so we can all have three-ply toilet paper.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” I said. “It was pretty far from camp. There are probably hundreds of bears in the woods around here and that was the first one I’ve seen. I think they mostly try to avoid humans.”

“Hundreds?” asked Andrea skeptically.

“Dozens?” I suggested. “And don’t forget — Delroy had cheese in his pocket. That’s probably the only reason it was interested in us.”

Delroy joined us a few minutes later. We didn’t usually eat together, Delroy and I. We saw enough of each other out on the block. Some planters were inseparable. They ate together. They showered together. They put their tents next to each other. Some of them even went to the shitter together. Delroy and I, not so much.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I replied.

Andrea nodded and waved a friendly fork of fettuccine at him.

Susan smiled at him and said, “Stu was telling us about your cheese. It sounds cool.”

“Stu told you about my cheese?” He shifted uncomfortably.

Susan nodded. “Can we see it?”

Delroy glanced at me, then back at Susan. She smiled encouragingly. He stood up, reached into his back pocket, pulled out his hanky-wrapped block of cheese, and sat down again. He laid it carefully in front of Susan and unwrapped it like he was changing a diaper.

The cheese was wedge-shaped with one corner broken off. It was pale yellow and Delroy’s handkerchief hadn’t managed to completely protect it from the detritus in his pocket. There were specks of dirt and bark and a couple of spruce needles embedded in them.

Susan erupted in a brief and piercing squeal of delight. The walls of the cook shack shuddered for a moment but stayed intact.

“That’s awesome!” she said. “I wasn’t really sure I believed anyone would keep a lump of cheese in their pocket, but there it is! The Cheese of Delroy! Can I hold it?”

Delroy twitched slightly, but he was gracious. “You can hold it in the hanky, but please don’t touch it. Hygiene, you know.”

“Dude!” I said. “It’s covered in dirt!”

He glared at me.

“Maybe a little, but it’s not like it’s covered in dirt,” he said. “Besides, it’s clean dirt — just needles and bark and stuff. It’s not like there’s moose shit or anything on it. And there's no people dirt on it.”

“Except your spit.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s mine. There’s no other-people dirt on it,” he said.

“I won’t touch it,” said Susan. “I just want to hold it and give it a sniff. Is it okay if I smell it?” She put her elbows on the table and unfolded her hands toward him.

“Okay, but be careful.”

Delroy picked up the corners of the hanky and gently lowered the resulting cheese hammock into Susan’s waiting hands. He kept hold of the corners of the hanky.

Susan squealed and wriggled around on the bench with excitement. She leaned forward and brought her nose to within half an inch of the cheese. She gave it a short sharp sniff, closed her eyes, and drew a long slow breath in through her nose. She held her breath for a few seconds then let it out in a sigh. She smiled up at Delroy.

“Best goddamn cheese I ever smelled!”

He blushed and took back the cheese, then carefully wrapped it up and put it in his pocket.

“So?” asked Andrea. “What does it smell like?”

“Well, cheese — obviously,” said Andrea. “Cheese and pine needles. And butter, maybe. And socks. Not clean socks. Not super filthy socks either. I’d say maybe three-day-old socks.” She thought for a moment. “And somehow, civilization.”

“Exactly!” said Delroy. “That’s what I was trying to make Stu understand.”

“That your cheese smells like socks?” I said.

“No, that it represents civilization and order and progress.”

Next chapter…

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