THE (SOMETIMES) MIGHTY BUCKS
BY
BOB WRIGHT
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have a had a basic kernel of this story fermenting in my mind for some years now; the present, I feel, is the right time to begin telling it. And for those of you with bad tastes in your mouths from the recent failed television adaptation, allow me to help wash it out by going back to the true version of Buck Russell as played to perfection by John Candy, and his world.
Uncle Buck and all related characters and indicia-at least the true versions thereof to be shown here-are registered trademarks of Universal City Studios and the John Hughes Estate, or similar related entity(ies). And now, as always, sit back and enjoy the story.
"Close/Alexander Advertising Agency; how may I help you?" droned the receptionist on the other end of the phone line.
"Yes, you can certainly help," said the large rotund man, leaning back in his chair behind his desk with a smile, 'My name's Buck Russell, and I'm the sales rep here at Kobalowski Tires on West Eighty-Ninth Street. I just started a few months ago, and let me say..."
"Sir, does this call have a point?" the receptionist asked impatiently.
"Oh, uh, yeah. The reason I'm calling is that Kobalowski Tires is easily the best tire and auto parts store in the entire greater Chicago area," Buck told her, "This is due to the tremendous efforts of the owner, the lovely Chanice Kobalowski. She has authorized me to look for advertisers to expand our outreach, and since you're the biggest one in all of Chicago, we feel you're best for our services. We'd like to..."
"All right, you're going to want to talk to Mr. Close. Please hold while I put him on the line," the receptionist told him. Elevator music permeated the line. Buck glanced at the clock on his office's opposite wall. Ten minutes to closing time. While he was eager to get out of work for the day, he was hoping this call would bear fruit for the garage, as he'd struck out on four other attempts thus far in the afternoon.
Hooking an elbow around the phone to keep it to his ear, he opened his desk drawer and pulled out the latest issue of Sheriff Bud Boomer, Epsilon Force. His nephew had been a fan of the comic, and Buck had found he too was entranced by the comical adventures of a small town sheriff and his deputies pressed into international service by the president's National Security Advisor for missions using personnel considered expendable. Flicking through the pages, he came to where he'd left off, where Boomer and his crew had been captured by international weapons smuggler Oleg Mountanski. "OK, Boomer, let's see how you get out of this one," he mused, squinting at the page. Suspended over a crocodile pit, Boomer was pressing his belt buckle to activate a magnet to bring the keys over to him-but the magnet was proving too strong, and everything metal within range was being yanked over as well. This, however, was enough to smash the guards in the face and knock them out, one of them knocking the keys into the sheriff's grasp anyway. "YEEEE-HHAAAAAWWW, thattaboy, Boomer!" Buck cheered, too caught up in the comic to hear the line clicking back on. "What's going on over there?" inquired a distinguished man's voice.
"What? Oh, uh, sorry, there, uh, I'm, uh, Buck Russell," Buck quickly snapped back to reality, "You, uh, ever read Bud Boomer comics?"
"OK, I can tell this call isn't worth my time if you're not going to approach it seriously, sir. Good day," the man told him off briskly.
"No, don't hang up, I've...!" Buck pleas were to no avail, as the line cut off. Groaning, he slumped his head on the desk at the missed deal-right as the door opened and his boss entered. "So how's the deal with Close/Alexander going, Buck?" Chanice Kobalowski pressed him.
"The what? Oh, yeah, uh, Close/Alexander," Buck said, sweating, "Uh, well, yeah, Chanice, I did call them, but, um, there were a couple complications..."
"Oh no you didn't," Chanice slapped both hands to her face, "You did not just blow a sure fire deal with the biggest ad agency in town, Buck; tell me you did not just blow this deal!?"
Buck laughed uncomfortably, unable to come up with a good immediate answer. "Um...it looked like I was going to be on hold for a while, and I figured I might as well read Miles's latest Bud Boomer issue..." he settled with the essential truth.
"Buck, how many times have I told you to leave work and pleasure separate!?" Chanice thundered, seizing the comic book from his desk and hurling it into the trash can, "I've told you before, this is a serious position I've hired you for, and if you're not going to take it seriously, I'm going to open it up again for someone who will! Now do you get all that!?"
"Loud and clear, honey," Buck shrank apologetically down in his seat, "The good news is, there's still a couple agencies in the suburbs we haven't tried yet..."
"But I'll make those calls myself; maybe we'll actually get things done, then," Chanice gave him a parting glared before she stormed out of the office. Buck lowered his head to the desk. "I'm trying, Chanice; you know I'm trying," he mumbled softly to himself, "I want the business to succeed same as everyone else, want to make something out of my life. Give me the chance and I'll find it."
His attention was diverted by an engine getting louder outside his window. He looked up and smiled: unless he missed his guess-impossible, since he recognized the now familiar car-his nieces and nephew were dropping in for the day, as had become their custom since the oldest had gotten her driver's license. And indeed, it was Tia exiting the driver's seat now. She flashed a smile at him through the window-which Buck certainly appreciated, given how badly they'd gotten off on the wrong foot when he'd been pressed into service looking after his brother's family during an emergency a while back. Since then, however, their relationship had improved to the point that they often had coffee downtown during weekends and school holidays. "Hey there," she greeted him with some warmth upon entering his office.
"Hey," he raised a hand, "How'd it go today?"
"Decent, although I could care less about half the classes they teach," Tia grumbled, plopped down in the chair across from her uncle's desk, "You?"
"Oh...I've had my ups and downs today," Buck glanced out the window behind his desk at Chanice shouting instructions to somebody over her own office phone, "Unfortunately down lately, though. Maybe my luck'll improve later on."
"So you're going back to the track, Uncle Buck?" his younger niece asked, helping herself to a gumball from the dispenser on his desk.
"Not today, Maizy; in fact, I've been cutting back since I've reconnected with you guys. I want to give a better image to..." it was now Buck noticed his nephew was slumped over in his own chair, looking depressed. "Something wrong, Miles?" he got up and walked over.
"I quit the hockey team," Miles mumbled softly, "We got blown out 23-1 by Kenilworth on Saturday, and the coach screamed at half of us to take a hike. I missed an easy goal, so he really took it out on me, telling me I didn't belong."
"Oh did he now?" Buck's brow tightened, "Well, you know he's wrong, Miles; from what I hear, you're one of the best players out there. Sorry I couldn't make any games so far, but Aunt Chanice likes me to work Saturday afternoons..."
"Thanks, UB, but he's right; I'm just not good enough," Miles sighed, "And hockey was supposed to be the bridge for me after we moved from Indianapolis; instead, it's becoming dead weight. Coach almost made me quit after we first moved; I gave it another try after you showed up, but maybe it's time to give it up."
"Well I'll tell you something, Miles; it's not time. Because nobody puts down my favorite nephew like that and gets away with it," determination crossed Buck's face, "When's the next practice?"
"Would be in about an hour or so, but..."
"OK, you and your sisters come with me; we're going to make sure you're back on that team and treated with respect," Buck grabbed for his coat.
"I appreciate it, UB, but it's not really necessary..."
"Hey, I stood up for Maizy here when her principal tried to put her down, so it's only fair I do the same for you. Chanice, hold my calls," he held up a hand at his employer when she approached his office door, "I've got some emergency uncling to do."
"Buck, you're not bailing early; I've told you that you work a full shift for me...!" Chanice shouted, but Buck paid no heed, holding open the garage's front door for his nephew and nieces. "Be right back, Chanice," he called back to her, "I've just got something to set right here."