CLUTTERBUCKS SEASON 2 — EPISODE 2

Jet walks down the street toward Kreskin who begins to play Take Me To Church. Jet’s wearing yellow pants, black Docs, and a purple stand-up c0llar shirt. He recently asked Grace to alter all of his shirts so that he had the option of turning the collar up.
“I just want to be a casual, sort of implied God-guy,” he’d said, “and when I feel the need for a collar I want to be able to have one. It might help people approach me – people who are troubled. Maybe they’re trying to work something out, you know, people who need someone to bounce” – Clutterbucks’ resident grey bird, Bounce, lands on Jet’s shoulder in a flash as if he’s been summoned – “to bounce things off. I miss the students. It’s lonely in the summer since they’ve all gone back home it’s just me in that big house. Nobody to coach. Just trying to help, you know, and maybe the collars will help me help.”
“Collar looks perfect,” Kreskin says as Jet approaches. “Morning, Jet. How art thou?”
Jet smiles and twizzles his eyes at Kreskin, adjusts his collar, and goes into Clutterbucks where the bells continue the song Kreskin started, she’s the giggle at a funeral. He goes directly to Saving Grace where Grace is inking up her silk screen. He watches as she pulls the squeegee over the screen, opens the press, and peels up a high-collared T-shirt.
“That mine?” he asks.
“Yes,” Grace smiles. “Nobody else wears these I mean your fashion sense isn’t exactly divine, Jet, but your timing is.
She holds it up.
“You like?”
Jet studies the shirt, big lettering as he had specified, purple of course, the letters OMG.
“Hmmmmmm,” Jet says. “do you think that’s enough information? Not sure not sure not sure. How about SKY GUY or wait no that could be for a skywriter I guess. Hmmmmm. Needs something though.”
“What’s that? What’s a skywriter.”
“Somebody in a plane who writes messages in the sky with the exhaust or some kind of sky ink or something. Never seen it? Doesn’t happen so much nowadays but used to be a thing. People used to use it for advertising. Proposing even.” He looks up and gestures to the invisible words, “Will You Marry Me?”
Avo just then comes out of the kitchen he’s scheduled to complete today. He’s been thinking about booking his ticket back, his family must be wondering by now, but something, well, someone’s been keeping him around and it’s not just Daphne and the job after job she’s been offering him, but walking into Jet’s proposal – how long’s that been going on? – and the smile on Gracief he knows so well, what, really, is he sticking around for? He goes to the centre of the store and says “Done, boss.”
Daphne drags her eyes off the screen, looks up at him as if she is trying to figure out who on earth he is.
“Done what?”
“Just done, Boss, just done.”
“Funny Jet but just last night,” Grace says, “I was sitting on the deck thinking how amazing it would be to write things across the sky for everybody to see instead of just on T-shirts.”
Jet is still studying the shirt.
“Yes,” he says, “definitely needs something.”
“Wait!” she says. “I have an idea! No. Don’t wait! Come back in half an hour. Wait somewhere else.”
Clutterbucks is an easy place in which to while away half an hour. Jet goes over and talks with Max who is busy on a project for Simple Simon, he’s building a quilted barrier that Simon can quickly erect around the area he clears every evening when Simpleton’s becomes Two Left Feet Dance Studio. Some of the furniture got damaged opening night, his first two clients, Claude and he can never remember Claude’s partner’s name so he refers to her as Hopper.
We know Jet’s new at this, we can’t expect that he’d see how much Max needs to talk, Jet still thinks – this will soon change – but for now Jet still thinks it’s only the down-and-out that need his help and Max is clearly not down-and-out. His business is going strong, he works along the south wall, a generous space that’s mostly in natural sunlight. He rummaged through the junk room and found an old sign that used to read FAITH, HOPE and CHARITY, likely donated because it was missing the TY at the end. Max fiddled with it a bit and it now it’s his upholstering company’s name: FAITH, HOPE and CHAIRS.
Daphne has been wonderful, she’s kept Max busy, his little shop is perfect and he enjoys the work, he gets pleasure giving old things new life. He’s also volunteering at a juvenile detention centre up in Minden on Monday and Thursday evenings – Daphne gave him a deal on her old van – teaching kids the trade although only one of them seems interested, the kid makes his own clothes, it’s obvious only in that he wears upholstery fabric, but there’s definitely talent and Max thinks the kid’s a genius.
Jet wanders over to where Daphne is sitting behind the cash desk peering into the laptop.
“Something wrong, boss?” Jet asks.
“Trying to say something, Jet, and I just can’t find the words,” Daphne says.
“Most unusual,” they both say together.
Grace hollers, “Jet, come see!” and he runs over, she’s holding up the shirt, a new line of ink, smaller and lighter beneath OMG reads for more info, pray.
“Perfect-o!” Jet screams. “Oh my God.”
As Jet’s leaving wearing the newly printed T-shirt, the bells start he ain’t heavy he’s my – and in comes a girl, maybe 17 or 18. She just stands there waiting for her eyes to adjust.
“Can I help you?” Jet asks.
“I’m looking for my bro-th-er-er-er,” she is surprised by the way the word comes out in song, low and smooth. She covers her mouth, embarrassed, she’s never even heard the Hollies’ song.
“Who,” Jet asks, “who is your bro-th-er-er-er.”
“Max,” she reads his shirt, “his name is Max Green, Mr. Omg. Lady named Maddie Frost said he works here.”
“You mean I’m your bro-th-er-er-er?” Max approaches, singing, and the girl runs into his arms.
Daphne, who is still peering into her laptop, suddenly laughs. “It keeps turning into a goddamn musical!” she says, “but that’s the way, uh-huh uh-huh I like it uh-huh uh-huh.”

Michool comes up from the basement and pokes his nose into the store, sees Daphne frowning into her laptop.
“Hi Daph,” he says.
“Hello Mike.”
“You look constipated.”
“Good assessment.”
“Listen. If Jane drops by let her know I’m going to see another lawyer but that I’m on for dinner. I tried to leave a message but her inbox is full and I don’t know about you but the wi-fi seems iffy. None of my texts are going through.”
Daphne deftly hides the FINAL NOTICE from their provider.
“Which lawyer?”
Michool pulls a napkin from his shirt pocket and squints at the scrawled letters.
“Under the Grandal Street bridge,” he reads. “No! No no no! Wait! Beneath the Grandal Street bridge.”
“Glad you got that cleared up.”
“Anyway please tell Jane I will be in touché.”
Flash to Michool and a hooded stranger under the Grandal Street bridge, everything’s dark but a smudge of light coming from a hubcap fire in front of them. While roasting a marshmallow, the hooded lawyer says, “my guess is it’ll take about seven years.”
Michool looks thoughtfully at the marshmallow, “I’d say it’ll only take another minute and a half.”
But he heard the horrible truth, and is fingering the two yellow pills he took from his wife’s paper cup. We flash back – can you flashback from a flashforward? – to see him pulling his hand from his pocket to reveal a pile of different coloured Tic-Tacs. He picks out two yellow ones and puts them in the paper cup as the doctor examines his wife.
“Yes, yes, I do believe I see some improvement,” the doctor says, Mrs. Rochester's concerned eyes on Michool.
Now about Jane’s full inbox. No. Looks like we’re going to hear from Harriet first. She bustles through the door a big bag in each hand we hear the bells for the first time they speak, no singing yet we first hear Julia Roberts’ voice saying “big mistake! Big! Huge!” and then Roy Orbison’s Pretty Woman blares, Daphne looks up, surprised. “Oh, hi mom!”
“Daphne. You’ll never guess what I bought.”
Just then Vera walks in with a few bags of her own, Old Roy chimes in again, Vera rushes to the counter and puts her bags on them, says “Fish and Chips!”, and they all dig in.
“Some for you, too, Max,” Vera hollers.
“Not here.”
“Well that’s a first.”
“A girl said he was her brother came and last I saw the three of them, the girl, Max and Jet were skipping down the sidewalk Wizard of Oz style. I don’t know what’s going on around here I mean I’m trying to write something but Jesus all this distraction is getting to me I mean around here it’s all or nothing.”
She takes a meaningful bite of fish.
“What did you buy, Mom?”
“A laptop. I threw that old typewriter out this morning you know I touch-type so fast, right, I look up at the ceiling and the words just sort of go through me sometimes and I am simply a typist well that’s what happened this morning for ever so long and the story was ever so good but when I looked that damn ribbon had come off again and the page was empty. I did the old pencil trick, scribbled all over the page and I can see the words now so all’s not lost but I’d had it with that old thing and I heard the recycling truck and I went out there and flagged the guy down. He’s that joker Phil he said “Mrs. Clutterbuck how many times to I have to tell you we don’t recycle old people."
“He really said that?” Daphne asks.
“He did,” and I laughed like always and asked him to do me a favour so in he came and out it went. And now I’ve got myself a laptop I’ll never have to worry about running out of ribbon again.”
The door flies open once again the bells play he ain’t heavy and in rushes Max and the girl. Max stops for a moment in front of Daphne, Harriet and Vera and puts his arm around the girl. “This is Claire,” he says. “She’s my sister.”
He then takes her by the hand and leads her to Faith, Hope and Chairs where he turns out his trouble light, unplugs his drills, hammers the lid onto a can of paint, unplugs his glue gun. He then takes her hand again and says as he passes the desk, “I’m taking a few days, Daphne, I’ll catch up when I get back,” and before any of them can say anything, they’re out the door.
The road is long.
“Come on,” Harriet says to Vera. “You gotta teach me how to use this thing.”
“Can do, darling,” Vera says, “or at least can try.”
Okay now why Jane’s in-box is full.
Wait. Left alone, Daphne turns on the radio, mutters to herself, “maybe this’ll get me thinking.” It’s the ending of He Ain’t Heavy and right after the song the announcer says, “as I was saying about the Amber Alert, I mean I get that it’s for children but I don’t think it should have an age limit. I mean this mother I was talking about earlier, she must have phoned the police about her missing daughter and very likely she would have expectations that the law would do all it could to help find her daughter and that an Ambert Alert would be issued. Imagine how she felt when she was told her daughter who had recently turned 18 was not eligible for that kind of alarm. So my thoughts, and please call in with you own, but my thoughts are that the age limit be raised to twenty-one. Argue that after the break. But first this message, she called in to the station after the police took her information and told her she had to wait 24 hours before they would act. Again, folks, I get that the Amber Alert is special, and that it’s for children, but this is her child she’s talking about so have a listen, and we’ll discuss after the commercial break, “Hello, I am trying to be calm about this but I need you to put this message on the air. My daughter is 18 and has been missing since yesterday afternoon. She does not qualify for an Amber Alert due to her age but please, everybody listen and call the police if you;ve seen anyone matching this description. As I said she’s 18, she has long blond hair usually in a ponytail, she was wearing Converse sneakers, one red one yellow, bluejeans, a white T-Shirt, and a purple backpack. Her name is Claire Green…”
“Oh my God,” Daphne says. “"Oh my God that was Max’s sister I gotta call the station!”
Kreskin walks in.
“Don’t call the station, Daphne, call the cops!”
I know I said Gerry was out of the story I just want you to know that he was the officer who answered Daphne’s call, and put into motion the search. In fact he ran immediately into the chief’s office and insisted the investigation get started, and when he was granted permission he led the three other officers to Clutterbucks, told them to go inside and talk to Daphne while he went to Kreskin who said, “the road is long.”
“What?”
“Long Road. It leads to Wimbleymeyer. They’re on it now.”

I wonder the opinion I have let you form of Max’s mother. She visited him once shortly after he was convicted, and then she never visited him again. The cards she sent him were never mailed, and although Max sent birthday wishes each and every birthday, and cards for other occasions as well, none of them were ever given to her.
Enter Max’s stepfather Beauregard, a man with practiced charm, pretend manners, a factory of false love. You know how some people don’t have a jealous bone in their bodies, well Beau had nothing but. He was jealous of Max most of all such an inconvenience to have a stepson and when Max was sent away in such dramatic form he enjoyed for the first time in his forty four years a family life that suited him and it was good riddance, Max, I’ll spare you the details for now let’s just say they’re sordid and we’ll skip ahead to Claire’s decision to run away and find Max, she can see what’s going on between her parents, she’s not a kid any more, and she thinks her mother might be planning something dastardly. She’s gone on the computer more than once and had a look at the history reads like an Alfred Hitchcock: human remains rate of decomposition in water, how fine do you grind glass for human ingestion, can you feel ground glass in your mouth, hemlock.
She doesn’t know where to find Max. She goes to the detention centre where he spent four years but they cannot help her, and then she decides to go to their old house and when she pulls in the driveway, she is greeted by Maddie Frost who tells her Clutterbucks in Scarborough, by the lake, and to say hello from her.
Max and Claire and driving along Long Road now. Claire has filled Max in on the way they were forced to distance themselves from Max it was forbidden to even say his name.
“It’s just up here,” Claire says. “Right over the hill.”