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It was a beautiful spring day and four of the five Wilburys had decided to head outside in between recording and lunch. Roy had left a few minutes ago to pick up food from a local restaurant for everyone. Tom spotted a frisbee lying around Bob’s garage, picked it up, and shook it in Jeff’s direction.
“Hey, Jeff, bet you a buck I can throw farther than you!” Tom said with a grin.
“I’ll take you up on that because I know you can’t.” Jeff shot back teasingly. Tom pretended to look offended.
“Only one way to find out, boys,” George informed them, “We gotta have a contest!”
“I’ll get the tape measure,” Bob called over his shoulder as he headed for his very old and extremely rusty toolbox to retrieve it.
“Tape measure?” Jeff questioned, “Can’t we just eyeball it?”
“No!” Bob shouted from the back of the garage where he was emptying the entire contents of his toolbox in search of the tape measure. “We have to be accurate!”
“Bob’s right. I have an entire dollar riding on this and it’s gotta be fair,” Tom agreed.
Meanwhile, George had grabbed a bucket of sidewalk chalk and was now drawing a line on the driveway. Jeff looked on and shook his head.
“What?” George asked as he stood back up. “We need a starting line to measure from.”
“Fine. Now can we get started so I can prove to Tom that I’m superior at frisbee?”
“Or so you can lose due to my incredible athletic ability?” Tom responded.
“Come on now, not too much trash-talking! Now shake hands gentlemen,” George instructed, apparently wanting to be the referee of this event. The contenders complied and shook hands.
“Found it!” Bob shouted from the garage. He jogged out to where the others were standing and joined the circle.
“You’ll each throw from the line here and then Bob and I will measure. Whoever wins owes the other one dollar. No hard feelings, but whoever wins has the right to brag to Roy when he gets back. Do ya’ agree to the terms?”
“I do!” Tom answered.
“Yeah, let’s do it,” Jeff agreed.
“Who goes first?” Tom questioned.
“Who cares?” Jeff asked. He didn’t see why it mattered.
“’Cause whoever goes second knows what they have to beat!” Tom informed him.
“You just want to delay your defeat, Tom. I can beat you first or second!” Jeff boasted.
“Nuh-uh!” Tom shot back, making a face at him. George felt like he was back in the schoolyard again.
Bob tested the tape measure, pulling it out little by little and sending it across the circle to poke George in the tummy. George was so consumed in the debate between Tom and Jeff that he didn’t notice until he felt it and looked down.
“Yes, Bobby?” George asked, giggling.
“Nothin’,” Bob replied innocently as he let the tape snap back into its case.
“Well if Tom’s going to whine about it this much then I’ll go first,” Jeff finally offered. Tom handed him the frisbee and stepped back.
Jeff looked around, evaluated the wind speed, considered the physics of frisbee flight, and threw. The frisbee flew straight and steady, finally landing just on the border between Bob’s yard and his neighbor’s.
“Very nice,” George congratulated him.
“Hold this,” Bob commanded, giving George the end of the tape measure before jogging off towards the frisbee. The others watched intently as he knelt down, read the tape, and gave them a thumbs up. Then he returned to the group, frisbee in hand.
“Well?” Tom asked eagerly.
“I’m not saying until after you go,” Bob told him.
“Fine, gimme the thing,” Tom sputtered. He looked around, reminding himself how far Jeff’s had gone. He stuck out his tongue, narrowed his eyes, and threw it with all his might.
The frisbee sailed high, as Tom had planned since he thought that would allow for more time in flight before it hit the ground. Unfortunately, it did not hit the ground at all. It hit Bob’s roof instead. All four of them looked at each other in shock.
“Tommy…how?” George asked, dumbfounded.
“It was far. I’ll give ya’ that,” Jeff admitted. “Even if it was the wrong direction!” Tom just stared at the frisbee, which now rested on the section of roof above the garage that slanted forward. It was just underneath where another section of the house’s roof connected to it and had prevented the disc from flying any farther.
“But was it farther than Jeff’s?” Bob asked, intentionally stirring up dissension.
“Yes!” Tom responded all too quickly.
“I think we’d need to measure to know for sure, don’t you Bob? Or should I say, Mr. Accurate?” Jeff replied. Bob nodded.
“George?” Tom pleaded, hoping someone would side with him.
“Well, to be fair-”
“Aw, alright, fine! Let’s measure it so Jeff can lose,” Tom agreed.
“How are we going to get up there though?” Jeff asked.
“You got a ladder, Bob?” George inquired.
“Nope. Took it apart for a welding project last week. Was kinda a crappy ladder anyway though,” Bob told them. Jeff sighed and Tom looked at the ground dejectedly.
“Is there a way to get up there without one?” George wondered aloud.
“Yes! Who’s the lightest?” Tom piped up. All eyes went immediately to Bob.
“What?” he asked, playing dumb.
“We can give you a boost and then you can measure!” Tom explained with a grin.
“That sounds unsafe. Why me?” Bob asked.
“Well, you are the tiniest and therefore the one we won’t hurt ourselves lifting,” Jeff offered helpfully.
“How do you know? What about Tom? The man is a bean pole!” Bob protested.
“No good. Even if he is lighter or the same weight, he won’t play fair. He’d fake the numbers,” Jeff informed him. Tom nodded. Not so much because he agreed he’d lie, but because he didn’t particularly want to go on the roof.
“You are the measurement official of this competition,” Tom reminded him.
“And it’s your roof,” George added. Bob let out the most exasperated sigh and nodded.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
After exactly two minutes of discussion and planning, they decided that Jeff and George would give Bob a boost while Tom held the other end of the tape measure. They all got into position and somehow managed to get Bob high enough to climb onto the roof without incident. He carefully moved to where the frisbee lay and turned around.
“Somebody toss me the tape,” he requested to those down below. Tom started to pick it up before Jeff stopped him.
“Let me. No telling where it’ll end up if you actually try to throw something on the roof,” Jeff teased before tossing it up to Bob.
“Stand at the line and I’ll send the end down,” Bob instructed. Tom obeyed and received the end of the tape measure. Bob read it and gave another thumbs up.
“Did I win?” Tom asked.
“Lemme’ get off the roof first,” Bob called back. “Now calm your impatient butt,” he added, mumbling under his breath.
“What’s the plan for that anyway?” George asked.
“Same way we got him up there, but in reverse. He can just step down into our hands,” Jeff reasoned.
“I need to throw someone the tape measure,” Bob informed them. Jeff motioned for it and caught it with only a little fumbling. Bob slowly made his way down the slope of the roof, carefully watching his step.
“Oh, look! It’s a monarch!” George exclaimed, pointing at a butterfly that had landed on one of the nearby bushes. He moved closer to get a better look.
“Roy’s back!” Tom announced excitedly. Jeff turned to watch Roy’s car pull in. Tom waved and grinned when Roy waved back.
Roy exited the vehicle, restaurant bag in hand, and realized that only three of his bandmates were present. Then he spotted Bob.
“What’s Bob doing on the roof?” Roy asked, concern obvious in his voice.
“Don’t I even get a hello?” Tom asked, ignoring the question. “Did you remember my extra ketchup?”
Meanwhile, Bob had almost made it to the edge of the roof. He looked up from his feet for a split second to see what all the fuss on the ground was about. That’s when his foot hit a loose shingle. He lost his footing, fell on his bottom, and slid.
“Ahh!” Bob yelped, desperately clawing at the roof, searching for anything to grab onto.
“Mercy!” Roy exclaimed. George gasped in horror.
“Crap!” Jeff yelled. Tom just stared in shock. Bob barely managed to get one hand on the gutter as he flew over the edge. His grip was the only thing preventing him from falling to the ground.
“Do something!” George begged the group. Bob struggled to get his other hand on the gutter too and prayed that it would hold. Then he attempted to swing a leg onto the roof. He got his foot up there, but couldn’t get himself high enough to climb back on. The others rushed underneath where Bob was now dangling helplessly.
“Hang on,” Jeff instructed, gears turning in his head as he tried to think of the best solution.
“Can ya’ hurry?” Bob asked. His shoulders ached and the gutter was making a suspicious creaking sound. He let out a noise that was somewhere between another yelp and a whimper. The others had moved under him and were arranging themselves so they could catch him if need be.
“It’s alright, love. We’re gonna get ya’ down. It’s okay,” George soothed. Bob appreciated the sentiment, but thought he’d appreciate getting down more. Preferably without breaking anything.
“I’m gonna grab your foot. Put some of your weight on it, alright?” Jeff instructed. “Tom, get ready to catch his other foot once he brings it down.”
“What about me?” Roy asked.
“Stand in front of Bob and be ready to catch him if this goes south.”
“Are we expecting that?!” Bob asked, picturing himself smacking into the pavement. Jeff didn’t answer and continued giving instructions.
“And George, you stand behind and grab him ‘round the waist when you can. Don’t let him fall backwards.” George nodded and got into position. “Bob, bring your other foot down. Tom and Roy, make sure you keep it steady.” Bob slowly stepped down into their hands but kept his grip tight on the gutter.
“Now what?” Bob inquired.
“Can you lower yourself a bit?” Jeff asked.
“Might be too much stress on the gutter,” Bob worried aloud.
“Do you want an intact head or an intact gutter?” Tom retorted. Bob sighed and straightened his elbows so he was barely hanging on to the edge. He felt George’s hands reach up and grab onto his waist. He could sense Roy’s presence somewhere in front of him too.
“Okay boys, let’s lower him on three. Bob, you’re gonna let go,” Jeff advised. “Ready? One, two, three!” Bob said a quick prayer for his life, held his breath, and let go, moving his hands to Jeff and Tom's shoulders as soon as he could reach. George moved closer and got a better grip around Bob to steady him. It was only when Bob’s sneakers touched the concrete that he let himself breathe again.
Roy immediately pulled him forward into a hug, placing a protective hand on the back of his head.
“What were you thinking? He could have been hurt!” Roy scolded them. Bob could feel Roy’s necklace pressing into his forehead. He thought it was a bit weird to be held like this, but it was oddly comforting after his misadventures on the roof.
“He’s fine. It’s alright.” Jeff responded.
“He volunteered to go up there,” Tom protested, “Well...sorta,” he corrected himself.
“The ladder was unavailable,” George informed him, looking like he might cry. Roy finally released Bob and shook his head.
“I don’t even want to know what on earth he was doing up there. Just don’t do anything so careless again!” Roy commanded.
“Sorry, Bob,” Jeff apologized. Tom looked at the ground. He was ashamed that he’d suggested something that almost and did partially cause disaster.
Bob was still shaking a little bit. He wondered if it was because of his sore shoulder muscles or because he was still getting over being scared of falling off the roof. George noticed and gently grabbed his shoulders, brown eyes scanning Bob’s face and body for any signs of injury.
“I’m good, George. Really. Just a bit shaken up is all,” Bob told him, trying to grin for George’s benefit. He felt bad for causing the others so much stress. George hugged Bob extra tight before letting go, but he kept an arm around his shoulders.
"Can we eat now?" Tom asked as his stomach growled.
"Yes, I'll go get the food. I had to throw it back in the car when I realized Bob was in danger," Roy explained as he walked towards the vehicle. Tom followed, eager to help with any task that resulted in getting to eat sooner.
During lunch, Roy went to the bathroom, leaving the others sitting around the kitchen table. George was thinking about what they should record next. Tom was wondering if there were any more fries and Bob was trying to figure out if he should risk going on the roof again to fix the shingle he'd slipped on. Jeff was thinking about the roof incident and the events leading up to it.
"You know, we never did determine who won," Jeff commented, breaking the silence. Everyone looked at him blankly for a second before realizing what he was referring to.
"Bob got the measurements before he fell," George provided helpfully.
"Yeah, Bob, who won? Me or Jeff?" Tom inquired, leaning forward to stare Bob down. Bob paused mid-bite of his cheeseburger and thought for a second. Everyone watched him as he resumed chewing, swallowed, and took a long sip of his chocolate milkshake.
"Ya' know, I honestly can't remember just now," he finally replied before reaching for the milkshake again.
"Aw, come on!" Tom whined, flopping back in his seat.
"Really, Bob? You don't remember? Was it even that close?" Jeff asked skeptically. Bob placed his milkshake back on the table.
"I think he's just not saying," George said quietly, almost as if he didn't want Bob to hear. Bob did hear however, and reached for his burger to cover the smirk that was threatening to break out on his face. George was too fast for him though and scooted his plate out of reach.
“Hey!” Bob protested, “Gimme my food back!”
“Not until you tell us who won!” Tom countered, scooting the plate further away. Jeff nodded in agreement. Bob put on his best grumpy face and glared at everyone.
“It would be nice to know. If you do remember please tell us,” George asked, changing tactics and asking politely.
“I could be persuaded to remember…” Bob said after a moment of consideration. “For a price.” The smirk returned in full. Jeff groaned. Tom threw his head down on the table. George rolled his eyes.
“What’s your price?” Jeff asked, taking out his wallet.
“Oh, it ain’t money,” Bob clarified.
“Then what is it?” Tom asked, not lifting his head from the table.
“Well, my roof needs fixed now. And my bathroom needs cleaned. Oh, and there’s this dead bird in the backyard-”
“Bobby, we’re not going to become your slaves just to figure out who won some silly competition,” George interrupted.
“Then I guess you’ll never know,” Bob replied. “Now pass my food back before it gets cold.” George complied. There was a long silence before Tom finally spoke up.
“So like, where is this dead bird exactly?” Roy returned just in time to hear Tom’s question.
“Why is Thomas asking about an animal carcass?” Roy asked, wondering for the second time today what he’d walked in on.
“Nothing, Tom is just giving in to Bob’s ridiculous demands,” Jeff informed him.
“Oh like you don’t wanna know just as bad as I do!” Tom protested.
“Know what?” Roy asked, still confused as to what was happening. “What demands?”
“Bob is withholding information,” George explained without actually explaining anything due to the fact that Roy still didn’t know about their frisbee competition.
“Wait, start from the beginning. What information?” Roy inquired. Tom whispered something in Jeff’s ear. Jeff sighed and nodded before whispering something to George. Roy was still lost.
“Alright, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Jeff announced. “to clean,” he added with a groan.
“Where’s the phone book? I need to look up people that own a ladder and aren’t Wilburys,” George said getting up and heading for the phone.
“Where was that bird? What should I do with it?” Tom asked.
“Far left corner of the yard. Just get a shovel and bury ‘em in the dirt over by the rosebush,” Bob instructed.
Tom nodded and left the room, leaving a very baffled Roy alone in the kitchen with Bob. Roy watched as Bob resumed eating his burger as if nothing had happened.
“What?” Bob asked when he realized Roy was staring at him.
“I think you know, Robert,” Roy answered.
“Robert?” Bob replied.
“Care to explain why everyone is acting so strange?”
“Not particularly,” Bob said as he got up and took care of his trash. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a siesta to recover from the traumatic rooftop experience I had this morning.” He left before Roy could say anything.
“What kind of nutty band have I joined?” Roy muttered to himself.