Full Cloaca

Glub-a-glub-glub. My flowerbed gurgled. Summer rain had just stirred the subterranean world: taproots, rhizomes, pebbles, snail shells, cherry pits, earthworms, ground beetles, earwigs, turtle eggs, acorns, peanut shells, bottle caps, cigarette butts, and bicentennial quarters.

I sipped iced oolong tea and swung back and forth in my hammock. The Waiver and Release form I had to fight the HOA for was so worth it. Yes, my hammock is traffic-cone orange. Yes, it’s hanging in my front yard. But it’s polyester ripstop. Two shakes and the rain rolls right off. Polymers probably weren’t even invented when those crotchety busybodies wrote those stupid rules.

The warm afternoon air sighed in my ears. I swayed to and fro. The post-rain bouquet nearly lulled me to sleep.

What’s that?! I bolted up and out of the hammock, spilling tea on my cotton poplin skirt. An orange and yellow striped stone lay on the edge of the yard. Curious. Did Maury forget? No, Maury is way anal about the lawn. He wouldn’t just leave a rock on the curb like that. But then, a tiny stern head craned its neck to the sky from the stone, its beak to the air, moving its head side to side like a flag waving in slow motion. It was a box turtle.

The turtle—Bessie, let’s call her Bessie—took a slow step into the street and I knew she was a goner. The speed limit on Beacon Drive is 25 miles per hour, but my neighbors are in such a hurry to get home. They run over turtles and geese all the time. It’s sad. Dumbo at the bars, sad. Zoo Life says it’s best to not interfere with a moving turtle. They’re gonna go where they’re gonna go.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

Beat a stick of unsalted butter and 1 cup of brown sugar in mixer.

Add 1 egg, a pinch of salt, and a scrape of a fresh vanilla bean to butter mixture. Beat well.

Whisk together 1 cup of all-purpose flour and 1/2 teaspoon of baking soda in a medium bowl. Add to butter mixture and stir until smooth.

Stir in 1 cup of chocolate chips.

Place parchment paper sheet on cookie pan. Drop spoonfuls of batter onto the sheet, spacing prudently.

Bake for ten minutes. Let cool before eating.

I stepped toward Bessie, stopped, and then inched toward her again. To hell with Zoo Life. She was gonna get run over if I didn’t do something. Bessie took another languid step upon the steaming asphalt. Her head pointed straight across the road to the DelVecchio yard. A slow-moving giant acorn, a dark brown shell with yellow, orange, and red streaks, subtle blotches, and faint smudges.

I tiptoed beside Bessie. She looked up at me with her kind brown eyes. She sized me up, blunt and expressive.

I bent down to pick Bessie up off the road, but then stopped. Zoo Life knows more about turtles than I do. Maybe I should just stand in front of her? That way if a car approaches, I could just put my hands out and make it slow down.

Bessie took another step. Rapid tires on pavement announced a car in the distance. A Lexus rounded the bend but much too fast. I waved for her to slow down. The driver didn’t see me. The algorithm lured her eyes away from the road and into the light of her screen. I flapped and flapped and flapped my arms. Stop! Stop! Stop! I dove headfirst, out of the way, and into my yard.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a loaf pan.

Beat 3/4 of a stick of unsalted butter and 2/3 cup of sugar in mixer.

Whisk together 1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour, 1/4 teaspoon of salt, 1/2 teaspoon of baking soda, and 1/4 teaspoon of baking powder.

Add flour mixture to butter mixture. Beat well in mixer.

Add 2 eggs, beaten, to the flour and butter mixture.

Fold in two very ripe, mashed bananas.

Pour batter into greased loaf pan.

Bake for one hour. Let cool on a rack for 10 minutes before unmolding. Let cool completely on rack.

I didn’t want to look back at the road. Turtle mash. Turtle smear. Blues and greens. I looked through my spread fingers, like I was watching Evil Dead. Bessie was still in one piece. Miss Lexus barely missed Bessie and passed over her. I took a breath, wiped the dirt from my grass-stained, tea-soaked poplin skirt, and approached. Bessie peeked her sage head up from the box shell, unfazed, almost smiling. She took another unhurried step toward the DelVecchio yard.

Another car approached, but it wasn’t really a car as much as an excuse for a car, smaller than a Mini Cooper and boxier. A menace to society. A top-shelf nuisance. A retiree with nothing better to do.

Mix 4 cups all-purpose flour, 2 teaspoons kosher salt, 2 teaspoons of yeast. Add 2 cups of warm water and 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Mix with a dough hook.

Cover dough mixture with a damp towel and let rise for 2 hours.

Coat a 9 x 13-inch baking pan with olive oil. Place dough mixture in pan. Turn dough once so it is covered in oil.

Rest dough in pan for 45 minutes.

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.

Press fingers lightly into the top of the dough. Sprinkle kosher salt, rosemary, and garlic on top of the dough.

Bake for 25 minutes. Let cool 10 minutes before serving.

Daniel Graves stepped from the Beacon Management Association Enforcement Vehicle.

“What’s going on here?” he said.

“Oh, hey, Dan. Just helping a turtle cross the road,” I said.

“Hmm. Might take a while. Maybe just pick it up and move it?”

“Zoo Life says not to.”

“Oh, Zoo Life. I see.” Daniel looked down at his Birkenstocks. “Is this your turtle?”

“My turtle? Well, no. I’m just looking after her.”

“It’s a she. Hmm. That sounds like she’s your turtle.”

“And what if she is?”

“Well, if she is, then she’s a pet. Article 10, Section 2 of the Beacon Estates bylaws states: No household shall keep, harbor, maintain, board, or permit upon the premises any animals except for a maximum of two dogs and two cats, provided that such animals are domesticated household pets and are not kept for breeding, commercial, or nuisance purposes. No other animals, livestock, reptiles, birds, exotic pets, insects, or creatures of any kind shall be kept or permitted upon the premises, whether temporarily or permanently, without the prior written consent of the governing authority, which consent may be withheld in its sole and absolute discretion. Any animal maintained in violation of this provision shall constitute a continuing violation, subject to immediate enforcement and all remedies available at law or in equity.” Daniel grinned ear-to-ear.

“This is about the hammock, isn’t it?”

Bessie took another step, but toward Daniel.

“No, this is about obeying the rules.”

“Bessie isn’t even in my yard! She’s in the road and she’s going to get run over if we don’t do something!”

“You have to submit your request in writing.”

Bessie stepped again toward Daniel.

“Request? Request for what?”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m writing you up. $1,000 fine.”

“$1,000!? I don’t have $1,000.”

“Tell that to the magistrate.”

Pop.

Daniel shrieked. He high-howled. Real pain. Bessie had driven her beak into the top of Daniel’s big toe. He shook his foot like he was doing the hokey pokey but Bessie didn’t let go. He kicked and shook and kicked again but Bessie held on like a champion bull rider.

Wheezing, Daniel hunched down and pried Bessie from his toe. He held Bessie at eye level as if to scold her or give her a citation.

Then, Bessie peed on him. Zoo Life says it’s a stress response. Full cloaca. Bessie peed all over Daniel’s pink Vineyard Vines shorts and crisp IZOD shirt. She peed a lot. Daniel screeched. Pee got in his mouth.

With an awkward two-handed Frisbee-like toss, Daniel flung Bessie into the DelVecchio yard. She landed soft in their plump, green grass. She lay there in her box, legs and head drawn in.

Daniel whimpered and retreated. “Oh, and by the way,” he said, short of breath. “We’re not approving your bake sale.” He got in his glorified go-kart and puttered away.

Bessie peeked her head from her shell in the safety of the DelVecchio yard. I knew she wouldn’t know how to thank me, but I like to think she did when she lightly bobbed her head my way. I nodded back at her. She turned and continued into the yard, stopping in the mulch bed. She scraped at a patch of dirt with her back legs. She swelled near the rear of her shell, leavening.