The thin, pale fellow has emerged seemingly out of nowhere with a guitar.
His song sounds really familiar.
It's all right to lose,
Losing gets the sad out of you.
It's all right to lose,
It might make you feel better.
I lean over to Annie and whisper.
“Has this guy been here the whole time?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Annie says. She puts her hand on the bucket, like she’s on the verge of needing to use it.
Raindrops from your eyes,
Washing all the mad out of you.
Raindrops from your eyes,
It's gonna make you feel better.
Tooth is swaying with the music, his head metronoming like he’s Stevie Wonder.
“I may need that bucket,” I say.
Annie slides it between us.
It's all right to feel things,
Though the feelings may be strange.
Feelings are such real things,
And they change and change and change.
Sad 'n' grumpy, down in the dumpy
Snuggly, hugly, mean 'n' ugly
Sloppy, slappy, hoppy, happy
Change and change and change
It's all right to know,
Feelings come and feelings go.
It's all right to cry,
It might make you feel better.
The guy finishes off with a spoken bit:
It's all right to lose, little boy
I know some big boys that lose too.
After the last little guitar flourish, Tooth applauds. The rest of us offer polite, uninspired claps.
“Gentlemen and lady,” Tooth says, extending a hand toward the so-called entertainment. “This is Jeb. He’s the pastor at my church.”
Jeb waves. “Hi everyone,” he says with a toothy, Osmond-like smile. “I hope you liked my song.”
“It sounded like It’s all right to cry from the Free to be you and me soundtrack,” I say, “with the word lose in place of cry.”
Patch fires a how-the-hell-did-you-know-that look at me.
“Three kids,” I say.
“That’s exactly what it was,” Jeb says. “I custom wrote it just for you all.”
“Well, you didn’t really write anything,” I say. “You just kinda replaced a few words. You Weird Al Yankovic’d it.”
“Ok, Doug, let’s move on,” Tooth says. “Jeb has something he’d like to talk to us about.”
“If this turns into a Bible study group, I’m outta here,” Bandana says.
“Relax,” Tooth says. He nods at Jeb, who puts his guitar aside, leans forward, and folds his hands together.
“I’ll get right to it,” Jeb says. “Our church has a co-ed slow pitch softball team. In the three years of our existence, we have been defeated every year.”
“You’ve been what?” I say.
“Defeated,” he says.
“What do you mean? Emotionally defeated?” I say.
“No, you know how some teams go undefeated?” he says. “We were defeated.”
“Oh, you mean winless,” I say.
“Yes, winless,” Jeb concedes, looking confused by the semantics. “Anyway, we’re trying to change that. In an effort to become more competitive, we’ve opened the team to non-church members. David and I thought it would be a good idea to see if any of you were interested in joining.”
“Who’s David?” I say.
Wrinkling his brow at the question, Jeb aims a finger at Tooth, who points to himself as if to say how could you not know that?
“The team is going to be great,” Jeb says. “I’m putting together a whole new angle. New name, new T-shirts, everything.”
“What’s the name?” Bandana says.
“We’re calling the team Jesus Christ,” Jeb says. “Think about it. Nobody wants to beat Jesus Christ.”
I deadpan back to Jeb.
“What Bible did you study?” I say.
Annie laughs.
“So wait a minute,” I say. “You’re recruiting for a competitive league from a Competitors Anonymous support group?”
Jeb is stone still, guilt wrapped over his face.
I look at Tooth-slash-David. “Was this the plan all along?” I say. “To search out hyper-competitive people for your softball team?”
Tooth and Jeb exchange guilty glances. I’m waiting for one of them to bite down on a cyanide capsule or something.
This new information throws me. I feel like Luke Skywalker in Return of the Jedi when the Emperor tells him the Rebellion has walked straight into a trap.
I look around at the group.
“How many of you are in on this?” I say.
Patch looks down at his feet in shame.
“I don’t believe it,” I say. “You?” I’d call him by his name, but I don’t know it.
“I’m playing catcher this year,” Patch says, tapping his eye patch. “With my depth perception what it is, that’s all I can handle.”
“What do you mean this year?” I say. “You were on the team last year?”
Patch nods.
“So you must be a member of the church,” I say.
Patch nods again.
“Who are you?” I say. “I don’t even know you.” Of course, I never knew him, really.
“Don’t be mad, Doug,” Patch says. “We need you. You look like you’re pretty athletic.”
I start hyperventilating. Pieces of information fall together in my mind.
“Is that…why you let me go on and on with my story?” I say.
Tooth shrugs. “You needed to get it off your chest, right?” he says. “We listened. We were there for you. Now we need you to be there for us.” Tooth looks at Jeb. “What do you think? Shortstop?”
“Pitcher, maybe,” Jeb says, looking me up and down, making me feel dirty.
Tooth produces some pieces of paper. “This is our plan of attack,” he says. “Line-ups, recruiting ideas, playing strategies, silent prayers for church, and so on.”
I look through the hand-written material. There’s a softball diamond illustration with various names at each position. My name is written in the corner with a question mark. Then is the list of recruiting ideas. One reads Form competitor support group. Another says Befriend tailgaters at Bears games. Another reads Visit construction sites.
I feel sick.
“What’s the matter with you people?” I say. “This behavior doesn’t seem very…church-like.”
“Really?” Tooth says. “Trying to spread a message and acquire new members to make ourselves more powerful? That doesn’t seem church-like to you?”
“Good point,” I say, returning my attention to the plans. The last page sends me over the edge. It looks like the Death Star.
“What’s this?” I say.
“The design for a bionic intraocular lens implant,” Tooth says.
Patch smiles. “Once I have the surgery, I’ll be able to play any position again,” he says.
I slump into my chair. Trembling and terrified, I whisper to myself…more machine than man, twisted and evil. I study the eye patch; it bears a suspicious resemblance to the convex oval blackness of Darth Vader’s glare.
I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies, Chapter 45: Oops baby, Chapter 46: Winnah, Chapter 47: Green Pool, Chapter 48: Jesus Christ, Chapter 49: Prequels
His song sounds really familiar.
It's all right to lose,
Losing gets the sad out of you.
It's all right to lose,
It might make you feel better.
I lean over to Annie and whisper.
“Has this guy been here the whole time?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Annie says. She puts her hand on the bucket, like she’s on the verge of needing to use it.
Raindrops from your eyes,
Washing all the mad out of you.
Raindrops from your eyes,
It's gonna make you feel better.
Tooth is swaying with the music, his head metronoming like he’s Stevie Wonder.
“I may need that bucket,” I say.
Annie slides it between us.
It's all right to feel things,
Though the feelings may be strange.
Feelings are such real things,
And they change and change and change.
Sad 'n' grumpy, down in the dumpy
Snuggly, hugly, mean 'n' ugly
Sloppy, slappy, hoppy, happy
Change and change and change
It's all right to know,
Feelings come and feelings go.
It's all right to cry,
It might make you feel better.
The guy finishes off with a spoken bit:
It's all right to lose, little boy
I know some big boys that lose too.
After the last little guitar flourish, Tooth applauds. The rest of us offer polite, uninspired claps.
“Gentlemen and lady,” Tooth says, extending a hand toward the so-called entertainment. “This is Jeb. He’s the pastor at my church.”
Jeb waves. “Hi everyone,” he says with a toothy, Osmond-like smile. “I hope you liked my song.”
“It sounded like It’s all right to cry from the Free to be you and me soundtrack,” I say, “with the word lose in place of cry.”
Patch fires a how-the-hell-did-you-know-that look at me.
“Three kids,” I say.
“That’s exactly what it was,” Jeb says. “I custom wrote it just for you all.”
“Well, you didn’t really write anything,” I say. “You just kinda replaced a few words. You Weird Al Yankovic’d it.”
“Ok, Doug, let’s move on,” Tooth says. “Jeb has something he’d like to talk to us about.”
“If this turns into a Bible study group, I’m outta here,” Bandana says.
“Relax,” Tooth says. He nods at Jeb, who puts his guitar aside, leans forward, and folds his hands together.
“I’ll get right to it,” Jeb says. “Our church has a co-ed slow pitch softball team. In the three years of our existence, we have been defeated every year.”
“You’ve been what?” I say.
“Defeated,” he says.
“What do you mean? Emotionally defeated?” I say.
“No, you know how some teams go undefeated?” he says. “We were defeated.”
“Oh, you mean winless,” I say.
“Yes, winless,” Jeb concedes, looking confused by the semantics. “Anyway, we’re trying to change that. In an effort to become more competitive, we’ve opened the team to non-church members. David and I thought it would be a good idea to see if any of you were interested in joining.”
“Who’s David?” I say.
Wrinkling his brow at the question, Jeb aims a finger at Tooth, who points to himself as if to say how could you not know that?
“The team is going to be great,” Jeb says. “I’m putting together a whole new angle. New name, new T-shirts, everything.”
“What’s the name?” Bandana says.
“We’re calling the team Jesus Christ,” Jeb says. “Think about it. Nobody wants to beat Jesus Christ.”
I deadpan back to Jeb.
“What Bible did you study?” I say.
Annie laughs.
“So wait a minute,” I say. “You’re recruiting for a competitive league from a Competitors Anonymous support group?”
Jeb is stone still, guilt wrapped over his face.
I look at Tooth-slash-David. “Was this the plan all along?” I say. “To search out hyper-competitive people for your softball team?”
Tooth and Jeb exchange guilty glances. I’m waiting for one of them to bite down on a cyanide capsule or something.
This new information throws me. I feel like Luke Skywalker in Return of the Jedi when the Emperor tells him the Rebellion has walked straight into a trap.
I look around at the group.
“How many of you are in on this?” I say.
Patch looks down at his feet in shame.
“I don’t believe it,” I say. “You?” I’d call him by his name, but I don’t know it.
“I’m playing catcher this year,” Patch says, tapping his eye patch. “With my depth perception what it is, that’s all I can handle.”
“What do you mean this year?” I say. “You were on the team last year?”
Patch nods.
“So you must be a member of the church,” I say.
Patch nods again.
“Who are you?” I say. “I don’t even know you.” Of course, I never knew him, really.
“Don’t be mad, Doug,” Patch says. “We need you. You look like you’re pretty athletic.”
I start hyperventilating. Pieces of information fall together in my mind.
“Is that…why you let me go on and on with my story?” I say.
Tooth shrugs. “You needed to get it off your chest, right?” he says. “We listened. We were there for you. Now we need you to be there for us.” Tooth looks at Jeb. “What do you think? Shortstop?”
“Pitcher, maybe,” Jeb says, looking me up and down, making me feel dirty.
Tooth produces some pieces of paper. “This is our plan of attack,” he says. “Line-ups, recruiting ideas, playing strategies, silent prayers for church, and so on.”
I look through the hand-written material. There’s a softball diamond illustration with various names at each position. My name is written in the corner with a question mark. Then is the list of recruiting ideas. One reads Form competitor support group. Another says Befriend tailgaters at Bears games. Another reads Visit construction sites.
I feel sick.
“What’s the matter with you people?” I say. “This behavior doesn’t seem very…church-like.”
“Really?” Tooth says. “Trying to spread a message and acquire new members to make ourselves more powerful? That doesn’t seem church-like to you?”
“Good point,” I say, returning my attention to the plans. The last page sends me over the edge. It looks like the Death Star.
“What’s this?” I say.
“The design for a bionic intraocular lens implant,” Tooth says.
Patch smiles. “Once I have the surgery, I’ll be able to play any position again,” he says.
I slump into my chair. Trembling and terrified, I whisper to myself…more machine than man, twisted and evil. I study the eye patch; it bears a suspicious resemblance to the convex oval blackness of Darth Vader’s glare.
I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies, Chapter 45: Oops baby, Chapter 46: Winnah, Chapter 47: Green Pool, Chapter 48: Jesus Christ, Chapter 49: Prequels
Labels: chapter 48, Jesus Christ, traveling
Annie wears a pair of gigantic, 12-inch-wide sunglasses.
Plunger struggles with Chinese handcuffs.
Tooth has a fistful of Tootsie Rolls and Smarties.
Bandana pumps a squeeze ball that looks like a bloodshot eye.
Blackhawk makes a foul noise and reveals the whoopie cushion beneath him.
Patch has a battery-powered mouthpiece that lights up his teeth in red, blue and green.
In the center of the group are strings of amusement tickets. The thousands upon thousands of tickets combine to create a mountain rivaling Devil’s Tower itself.
“I made up for the Yarthies debacle by finding a video game arcade on the way home,” I say. “It cost me a mere 150 bucks for…” I look at Annie. “…some giant sunglasses…” I look at plunger. “…some Chinese handcuffs…” I look everywhere else. “…and a bunch of other novelty items that cost a nickel to make in China.”
“But it made the kids happy, right?” Tooth says, popping a Tootsie Roll in his mouth.
“It did indeed,” I say.
“Then worth every nickel,” Tooth says.
“So how was Bill when you got back?” Patch says, his mouth flickering like a fireworks display.
Bill stands in the middle of the giant pile of tickets, wearing the melancholy expression of a man whose team has recently lost Game 7. He holds out his arms for a man hug. I rise without hesitation, and we embrace.
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Annie says.
After the hug, I smile at Bill, revealing a plastic set of hillbilly teeth. He lets out a light chuckle and puts his hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll get ‘em next year, buddy,” he says to me.
“Not if LeBron takes his talents to South Beach,” Bandana says.
Bill points at Bandana and gives a stern look.
“Don’t get me started, you,” Bill says.
Flash forward to me and Bill in his basement, watching the Heat take down the Celtics in Game 5 of the 2011 playoffs.
“I’m planning to add a decree to my will,” Bill says, casting an empty glare at the screen. “I’m going to be cremated, have the ashes dyed green, and then have myself poured from a helicopter into LeBron James’ swimming pool.” He smiles at the notion. “Now that would be a grand statement,” he says. “You know how hard it would be for LeBron’s pool guy to clean out the ashes? And the water would probably be green for, like, days afterward. That would be something.”
I nod. “I’ll do Kobe’s pool,” I say.
“Cool,” Bill says.
Tooth finishes off the half-dozen Tootsie Rolls he was holding. He speaks through a substantial chunk of brown confection.
“Well, folks, now that Doug’s story is finished…” Tooth looks to me. “It is finished, right, Doug?”
I nod. Tooth proceeds.
“I have a little surprise for everyone,” he says.
Being the cinema-slash-pop-culture aficionado that I am, I imagine this to be the part of the story involving the big “twist,” where everything I once thought I knew is thrown out the window, and my world turns upside-down.
Little do I realize, I’m totally right.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies, Chapter 45: Oops baby, Chapter 46: Winnah, Chapter 47: Green Pool, Chapter 48: Jesus Christ, Chapter 49: Prequels
Plunger struggles with Chinese handcuffs.
Tooth has a fistful of Tootsie Rolls and Smarties.
Bandana pumps a squeeze ball that looks like a bloodshot eye.
Blackhawk makes a foul noise and reveals the whoopie cushion beneath him.
Patch has a battery-powered mouthpiece that lights up his teeth in red, blue and green.
In the center of the group are strings of amusement tickets. The thousands upon thousands of tickets combine to create a mountain rivaling Devil’s Tower itself.
“I made up for the Yarthies debacle by finding a video game arcade on the way home,” I say. “It cost me a mere 150 bucks for…” I look at Annie. “…some giant sunglasses…” I look at plunger. “…some Chinese handcuffs…” I look everywhere else. “…and a bunch of other novelty items that cost a nickel to make in China.”
“But it made the kids happy, right?” Tooth says, popping a Tootsie Roll in his mouth.
“It did indeed,” I say.
“Then worth every nickel,” Tooth says.
“So how was Bill when you got back?” Patch says, his mouth flickering like a fireworks display.
Bill stands in the middle of the giant pile of tickets, wearing the melancholy expression of a man whose team has recently lost Game 7. He holds out his arms for a man hug. I rise without hesitation, and we embrace.
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Annie says.
After the hug, I smile at Bill, revealing a plastic set of hillbilly teeth. He lets out a light chuckle and puts his hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll get ‘em next year, buddy,” he says to me.
“Not if LeBron takes his talents to South Beach,” Bandana says.
Bill points at Bandana and gives a stern look.
“Don’t get me started, you,” Bill says.
Flash forward to me and Bill in his basement, watching the Heat take down the Celtics in Game 5 of the 2011 playoffs.
“I’m planning to add a decree to my will,” Bill says, casting an empty glare at the screen. “I’m going to be cremated, have the ashes dyed green, and then have myself poured from a helicopter into LeBron James’ swimming pool.” He smiles at the notion. “Now that would be a grand statement,” he says. “You know how hard it would be for LeBron’s pool guy to clean out the ashes? And the water would probably be green for, like, days afterward. That would be something.”
I nod. “I’ll do Kobe’s pool,” I say.
“Cool,” Bill says.
Tooth finishes off the half-dozen Tootsie Rolls he was holding. He speaks through a substantial chunk of brown confection.
“Well, folks, now that Doug’s story is finished…” Tooth looks to me. “It is finished, right, Doug?”
I nod. Tooth proceeds.
“I have a little surprise for everyone,” he says.
Being the cinema-slash-pop-culture aficionado that I am, I imagine this to be the part of the story involving the big “twist,” where everything I once thought I knew is thrown out the window, and my world turns upside-down.
Little do I realize, I’m totally right.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies, Chapter 45: Oops baby, Chapter 46: Winnah, Chapter 47: Green Pool, Chapter 48: Jesus Christ, Chapter 49: Prequels
Labels: Chapter 47, Green Pool, traveling
I stand over Frank’s bed, trembling in the darkness, wondering if I should give me a chance to talk myself out of it.
No. Don’t retreat. Victory is yours. Seize it.
I look around the room for Patch or Tooth. Even they want nothing to do with this.
I glance over at Bonnie, sleeping soundly.
What will she think of me? one voice says. The other replies: She lives 7 hours away and you never see her. Who cares what she’ll think? Besides, if she ostracizes you, you don’t have to see Frank ever again. The first voice is impressed: Good point.
I take a deep breath. I’m going to have to do this at full throat. Whispering, hushed voice, normal voice – none of that will get it done. If I give Frank an opportunity to think, I’m doomed. I need to be committed to anarchy, to unleashing hell.
It’s time.
I fill my lungs and proceed to scream. Frank bolts upright, almost knocking noggins with Lucius, which startles me, but I maintain my resolve.
“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! THE BABY! HE’S SICK! HE’S SICK! THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE BABY!”
“Wha? Wha?” Frank instinctively takes Lucius from me, dazed panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” he says, breathing heavy and scanning the infant with bleary eyes.
I lean over and lock eyeballs with Frank. Bathed in moonlight, I stare into Frank’s eyes, years of defeat and frustration powering my gaze.
“Yarthies,” I say.
A moment later the baby is wailing and Bonnie is circling the bed. I raise my arms in victory.
“That’s right!” I say. “Yarthies! I win! You lose!”
Bonnie takes Lucius and ushers him out of the bedroom as if he isn’t safe. When she reaches the hallway, I can hear her reassuring people, telling them that everything is ok and to go back to bed.
Frank sits in motionless fury, his darkened, monstrous silhouette oozing menace. He looks like a Batman villain comic book cover.
“Get out,” he says.
I move toward the door. “Sure, I’ll let you get back to-”.
“No, I mean get out of my house,” he says.
“Now?” I say. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Now,” he confirms.
“Don’t you think you’re being kind of a sore loser here?” I say.
Bonnie reappears. She flips on the overhead light, and all three of us are squinting.
“I gave Lucius his binky. He’s fine,” she says. For a moment, her face is devoid of expression, too exhausted to be angry. But that doesn’t last long. She smacks me on the shoulder. “What the hell is the matter with you?” she says. “What if Frank dropped him?”
“Frank wouldn’t drop his baby to win a game,” I say. “That would be inhuman. Aren’t you glad to know you’re human, Frank?”
His entire face clenched, Frank glares at Bonnie. “Ruling,” he says.
Bonnie looks back and forth between the two of us. “Oh no,” she says. “You’re not getting me involved in your stupid game.”
“I want a ruling,” Frank says. “I’ll accept your judgment.”
Bonnie forces herself to think. “Ok…well…he handed you Lucius and you accepted him,” Bonnie says. “As much as I hate my baby being used as a prop, I’d say it’s legit.”
I start dancing around with I’m-number-one fingers in the air. “Yeah, baby,” I say, then revert to my old Boston accent. “Winnaaahhhh!”
Bonnie hits me again, harder this time. The pain feels great.
“If you use any member of my family for something like that again, I’ll kill you,” she says.
“That’s ok,” I say, grinning at Frank. “No more Yarthies for me. I’m ending my career as champion.”
Frank is still glaring at his wife. “I can’t believe you ruled against me,” he says.
Bonnie shrugs. “It wasn’t pleasant, but it was fair,” she says.
“It’s because you don’t even like me,” Frank says. “That’s why you did it.”
Bonnie’s voice goes up an octave. “What are you talking about?” she says, but her voice is shaking and she feeds me a terrified glance like something bad is about to go down. “Of course I like you.”
“Then why haven’t we had sex since Lucius was conceived?” Frank says.
I stop dancing around. This is way more victory than I needed.
I start backing out of the room.
“I’m gonna…head out,” I say, but they aren’t listening.
“Hell, maybe the dry spell has been even longer,” Frank says. “Is Lucius even mine?”
“Of course he is. Just look at him. He’s already enormous!”
“Oh, HERE WE GO!” Frank bellows. “I told you that was sympathy weight gain!”
Bonnie looks down at Frank’s colossal mid-section. “Well, you must be one abundantly sympathetic man,” she says.
Bonnie and Frank continue barking at each other as I close the bedroom door behind me. Shannon waits for me on the other side, her arms crossed over her chest. I startle at the sight of her.
“Hi honey,” I say.
“What did you just do?” she says.
I raise my arms in victory. “Oh, I only just won Yarthies, that’s all,” I say.
“You need help,” Shannon says. “Look, I’m sorry the Celtics lost and everything, but that’s no reason to take out your frustration on innocent relatives.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say. “Don’t blame the Celtics. This is something I needed for me.”
“Right, and you needed it because of Game 7.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” I say.
Bonnie opens the bedroom door just wide enough for her face.
“Hey you guys,” she says in a modulated voice you’d use on a mental patient wielding a knife. “You’re going to need to leave.”
“Now?” I say.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, come on,” I say. “Tell Frank he’s being ridiculous.”
“No, this is my decision, actually,” she says.
“What, you guys gonna fight?” I say. “We can handle some screaming for a while.”
“You really just need to go,” Bonnie says, still with the sing-songy nice voice.
“I’m your brother,” I say.
“And I love you and always will,” she says, still in that placid voice, “but you need to go.”
“Love me and always will?” I say. “What is Frank behind the door holding a gun to your head?”
Bonnie leans away, looking nervously at something behind the door.
“Could you two please just take your kids and go?” she says, the urgency in her voice growing.
Now I’m concerned.
“What’s going on?” I say.
“You ok, Bon Bon?” Shannon says.
The door swings open to reveal Frank, dressed in tight shorts, a tank top, sneakers and a head band.
“Please don’t say bonbon,” he tells Shannon, and heads down the hall. The rest of us follow him downstairs to the living room, where he yanks a blanket off a rowing machine. He takes a seat, the collective fabric of his outfit stretching around his formidable girth, and starts rowing. As his titanic mass shifts forward and back in rhythm, the air resistance wheel spins, generating a noise resembling a jet engine and a wind that billows the curtains.
“This is all for you, baby,” Frank says over the whirr. “This is how much I love you!”
“That’s great, honey,” Bonnie says, offering a thumbs up and a vague, mocking grin. She turns to me and Shannon. “I didn’t want you to see this,” she says.
“It’s happened before?” I say.
“Every time he gets insecure about his weight,” Bonnie says, nodding and smiling at Frank, who can’t hear us over the noise. He winks at Bonnie, his thinning hair fluttering in the wind.
“Now that you’ve seen it, I guess there’s no harm in you staying,” Bonnie says, wincing each time Frank’s body pumps like a fleshy piston. “He’s going to do this until his heart gives out. If things hold true to form, we can expect an ambulance visit about 4 a.m.”
Dev, Edwin, and Fiona appear at the top of the stairs.
“I can’t sleep,” Fiona says.
“What’s that noise?” Edwin says.
Shannon and I look at each other, then at Frank, who shows no signs of slowing.
“Yeah, I think we’re gonna head out,” I say.
In the car, I take an intentional, dramatic pause before starting the ignition, and stare at Shannon.
“What,” she says.
“Well?” I say.
“Well what.”
“Where’s my apology?” I say. “I won Yarthies. Where’s my I’m sorry I doubted you?”
While Shannon gathers herself, mystified, Patch appears in the back seat.
“You, sir, are my hero,” he says. “Now you want an apology too? High five!”
Patch puts his hand in the air. I ignore it.
Shannon turns to me, fists clenched tight in her lap.
“You’re right,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
I nod my acceptance, and am about to start the car, but she isn’t finished.
“I’m sorry I thought you were mature,” she says. “I’m sorry I thought you would lose to Frank because you were not as single-minded, childish, and obsessed with winning as he was. I’m sorry. I misjudged you.”
I ponder the apology.
“Well, that was a bit more than I was looking for, but ok,” I say, starting the car. “Is there a hotel around here?”
“Just head to the highway,” Shannon says. “We’ll find something.”
As I navigate by the light of the GPS, I can’t strike the image of Frank’s ponderous, scantily clad form swaying across the rowing machine out of my head.
I can’t believe I was so obsessed with beating that guy.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies, Chapter 45: Oops baby, Chapter 46: Winnah, Chapter 47: Green Pool, Chapter 48: Jesus Christ, Chapter 49: Prequels
No. Don’t retreat. Victory is yours. Seize it.
I look around the room for Patch or Tooth. Even they want nothing to do with this.
I glance over at Bonnie, sleeping soundly.
What will she think of me? one voice says. The other replies: She lives 7 hours away and you never see her. Who cares what she’ll think? Besides, if she ostracizes you, you don’t have to see Frank ever again. The first voice is impressed: Good point.
I take a deep breath. I’m going to have to do this at full throat. Whispering, hushed voice, normal voice – none of that will get it done. If I give Frank an opportunity to think, I’m doomed. I need to be committed to anarchy, to unleashing hell.
It’s time.
I fill my lungs and proceed to scream. Frank bolts upright, almost knocking noggins with Lucius, which startles me, but I maintain my resolve.
“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD! THE BABY! HE’S SICK! HE’S SICK! THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE BABY!”
“Wha? Wha?” Frank instinctively takes Lucius from me, dazed panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” he says, breathing heavy and scanning the infant with bleary eyes.
I lean over and lock eyeballs with Frank. Bathed in moonlight, I stare into Frank’s eyes, years of defeat and frustration powering my gaze.
“Yarthies,” I say.
A moment later the baby is wailing and Bonnie is circling the bed. I raise my arms in victory.
“That’s right!” I say. “Yarthies! I win! You lose!”
Bonnie takes Lucius and ushers him out of the bedroom as if he isn’t safe. When she reaches the hallway, I can hear her reassuring people, telling them that everything is ok and to go back to bed.
Frank sits in motionless fury, his darkened, monstrous silhouette oozing menace. He looks like a Batman villain comic book cover.
“Get out,” he says.
I move toward the door. “Sure, I’ll let you get back to-”.
“No, I mean get out of my house,” he says.
“Now?” I say. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Now,” he confirms.
“Don’t you think you’re being kind of a sore loser here?” I say.
Bonnie reappears. She flips on the overhead light, and all three of us are squinting.
“I gave Lucius his binky. He’s fine,” she says. For a moment, her face is devoid of expression, too exhausted to be angry. But that doesn’t last long. She smacks me on the shoulder. “What the hell is the matter with you?” she says. “What if Frank dropped him?”
“Frank wouldn’t drop his baby to win a game,” I say. “That would be inhuman. Aren’t you glad to know you’re human, Frank?”
His entire face clenched, Frank glares at Bonnie. “Ruling,” he says.
Bonnie looks back and forth between the two of us. “Oh no,” she says. “You’re not getting me involved in your stupid game.”
“I want a ruling,” Frank says. “I’ll accept your judgment.”
Bonnie forces herself to think. “Ok…well…he handed you Lucius and you accepted him,” Bonnie says. “As much as I hate my baby being used as a prop, I’d say it’s legit.”
I start dancing around with I’m-number-one fingers in the air. “Yeah, baby,” I say, then revert to my old Boston accent. “Winnaaahhhh!”
Bonnie hits me again, harder this time. The pain feels great.
“If you use any member of my family for something like that again, I’ll kill you,” she says.
“That’s ok,” I say, grinning at Frank. “No more Yarthies for me. I’m ending my career as champion.”
Frank is still glaring at his wife. “I can’t believe you ruled against me,” he says.
Bonnie shrugs. “It wasn’t pleasant, but it was fair,” she says.
“It’s because you don’t even like me,” Frank says. “That’s why you did it.”
Bonnie’s voice goes up an octave. “What are you talking about?” she says, but her voice is shaking and she feeds me a terrified glance like something bad is about to go down. “Of course I like you.”
“Then why haven’t we had sex since Lucius was conceived?” Frank says.
I stop dancing around. This is way more victory than I needed.
I start backing out of the room.
“I’m gonna…head out,” I say, but they aren’t listening.
“Hell, maybe the dry spell has been even longer,” Frank says. “Is Lucius even mine?”
“Of course he is. Just look at him. He’s already enormous!”
“Oh, HERE WE GO!” Frank bellows. “I told you that was sympathy weight gain!”
Bonnie looks down at Frank’s colossal mid-section. “Well, you must be one abundantly sympathetic man,” she says.
Bonnie and Frank continue barking at each other as I close the bedroom door behind me. Shannon waits for me on the other side, her arms crossed over her chest. I startle at the sight of her.
“Hi honey,” I say.
“What did you just do?” she says.
I raise my arms in victory. “Oh, I only just won Yarthies, that’s all,” I say.
“You need help,” Shannon says. “Look, I’m sorry the Celtics lost and everything, but that’s no reason to take out your frustration on innocent relatives.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say. “Don’t blame the Celtics. This is something I needed for me.”
“Right, and you needed it because of Game 7.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” I say.
Bonnie opens the bedroom door just wide enough for her face.
“Hey you guys,” she says in a modulated voice you’d use on a mental patient wielding a knife. “You’re going to need to leave.”
“Now?” I say.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, come on,” I say. “Tell Frank he’s being ridiculous.”
“No, this is my decision, actually,” she says.
“What, you guys gonna fight?” I say. “We can handle some screaming for a while.”
“You really just need to go,” Bonnie says, still with the sing-songy nice voice.
“I’m your brother,” I say.
“And I love you and always will,” she says, still in that placid voice, “but you need to go.”
“Love me and always will?” I say. “What is Frank behind the door holding a gun to your head?”
Bonnie leans away, looking nervously at something behind the door.
“Could you two please just take your kids and go?” she says, the urgency in her voice growing.
Now I’m concerned.
“What’s going on?” I say.
“You ok, Bon Bon?” Shannon says.
The door swings open to reveal Frank, dressed in tight shorts, a tank top, sneakers and a head band.
“Please don’t say bonbon,” he tells Shannon, and heads down the hall. The rest of us follow him downstairs to the living room, where he yanks a blanket off a rowing machine. He takes a seat, the collective fabric of his outfit stretching around his formidable girth, and starts rowing. As his titanic mass shifts forward and back in rhythm, the air resistance wheel spins, generating a noise resembling a jet engine and a wind that billows the curtains.
“This is all for you, baby,” Frank says over the whirr. “This is how much I love you!”
“That’s great, honey,” Bonnie says, offering a thumbs up and a vague, mocking grin. She turns to me and Shannon. “I didn’t want you to see this,” she says.
“It’s happened before?” I say.
“Every time he gets insecure about his weight,” Bonnie says, nodding and smiling at Frank, who can’t hear us over the noise. He winks at Bonnie, his thinning hair fluttering in the wind.
“Now that you’ve seen it, I guess there’s no harm in you staying,” Bonnie says, wincing each time Frank’s body pumps like a fleshy piston. “He’s going to do this until his heart gives out. If things hold true to form, we can expect an ambulance visit about 4 a.m.”
Dev, Edwin, and Fiona appear at the top of the stairs.
“I can’t sleep,” Fiona says.
“What’s that noise?” Edwin says.
Shannon and I look at each other, then at Frank, who shows no signs of slowing.
“Yeah, I think we’re gonna head out,” I say.
In the car, I take an intentional, dramatic pause before starting the ignition, and stare at Shannon.
“What,” she says.
“Well?” I say.
“Well what.”
“Where’s my apology?” I say. “I won Yarthies. Where’s my I’m sorry I doubted you?”
While Shannon gathers herself, mystified, Patch appears in the back seat.
“You, sir, are my hero,” he says. “Now you want an apology too? High five!”
Patch puts his hand in the air. I ignore it.
Shannon turns to me, fists clenched tight in her lap.
“You’re right,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
I nod my acceptance, and am about to start the car, but she isn’t finished.
“I’m sorry I thought you were mature,” she says. “I’m sorry I thought you would lose to Frank because you were not as single-minded, childish, and obsessed with winning as he was. I’m sorry. I misjudged you.”
I ponder the apology.
“Well, that was a bit more than I was looking for, but ok,” I say, starting the car. “Is there a hotel around here?”
“Just head to the highway,” Shannon says. “We’ll find something.”
As I navigate by the light of the GPS, I can’t strike the image of Frank’s ponderous, scantily clad form swaying across the rowing machine out of my head.
I can’t believe I was so obsessed with beating that guy.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies, Chapter 45: Oops baby, Chapter 46: Winnah, Chapter 47: Green Pool, Chapter 48: Jesus Christ, Chapter 49: Prequels
Labels: chapter 46, traveling, winnah
“So why did we have to come here?” I say.
“Because it’s family you haven’t seen in a long time, it’s on the way home, and it saves us a night in a hotel,” Shannon says.
I sigh. “Has Frank always been like this?”
“Yes,” Shannon says. “And until he got you transferred, you used to love him for it.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I liked him?”
“Loved him,” she says. “Loved him so much you introduced him to your sister.”
“Don’t remind me,” I say, rubbing my temples. “God, if he beats me again...”
“Be careful,” Shannon says. “He almost got you with the remote.”
Earlier that night, Frank handed me the remote control and said “I’m going to bed. I bequeath control of the television unto you.”
At the last second, I caught on. I dropped the remote like it was on fire.
“He’s going to get you tomorrow, you know,” Shannon says.
“So you’re that sure, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your life is fuller than his,” she says. “As the day goes on, you will get distracted with other things – the kids, seeing Kansas City, being on vacation, but he will not stop quietly devising a way to beat you.”
“Nice try,” I say. “That was a very polite way of telling me that I’m a loser. At least I’m not the one who has an oops baby.”
“A what?”
“An oops baby,” I say. “His other boys are 9 and 8 years old. Nobody plans a family like that.”
“Lucius is probably unplanned,” Shannon concedes. “It doesn’t make him any less a human being.”
“I didn’t say that,” I say.
“You implied it,” she says.
“Hey, I’m just concerned for poor Lucius, having to grow up only to eventually realize that his parents-”
“I’m going to do you a favor and keep you from finishing that sentence,” Shannon says.
“How much you want to bet I win?” I say.
“How much?” Shannon says. “It doesn’t matter. Your money is my money.”
“Ok, if I win, all I want from you is a simple I’m sorry I doubted you,” I say.
“And if Frank wins?”
“I’ll tell you that you were right all along to doubt me,” I say.
Shannon puts out her hand. We shake.
Deal.
I sit up and slide off the bed.
“Where you going?”
“Bathroom.”
I depart without a hint of what I’m planning to do. That’s how I know I’m serious.
I won’t even give her the chance to talk me out of it.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies, Chapter 45: Oops baby, Chapter 46: Winnah
“Because it’s family you haven’t seen in a long time, it’s on the way home, and it saves us a night in a hotel,” Shannon says.
I sigh. “Has Frank always been like this?”
“Yes,” Shannon says. “And until he got you transferred, you used to love him for it.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I liked him?”
“Loved him,” she says. “Loved him so much you introduced him to your sister.”
“Don’t remind me,” I say, rubbing my temples. “God, if he beats me again...”
“Be careful,” Shannon says. “He almost got you with the remote.”
Earlier that night, Frank handed me the remote control and said “I’m going to bed. I bequeath control of the television unto you.”
At the last second, I caught on. I dropped the remote like it was on fire.
“He’s going to get you tomorrow, you know,” Shannon says.
“So you’re that sure, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your life is fuller than his,” she says. “As the day goes on, you will get distracted with other things – the kids, seeing Kansas City, being on vacation, but he will not stop quietly devising a way to beat you.”
“Nice try,” I say. “That was a very polite way of telling me that I’m a loser. At least I’m not the one who has an oops baby.”
“A what?”
“An oops baby,” I say. “His other boys are 9 and 8 years old. Nobody plans a family like that.”
“Lucius is probably unplanned,” Shannon concedes. “It doesn’t make him any less a human being.”
“I didn’t say that,” I say.
“You implied it,” she says.
“Hey, I’m just concerned for poor Lucius, having to grow up only to eventually realize that his parents-”
“I’m going to do you a favor and keep you from finishing that sentence,” Shannon says.
“How much you want to bet I win?” I say.
“How much?” Shannon says. “It doesn’t matter. Your money is my money.”
“Ok, if I win, all I want from you is a simple I’m sorry I doubted you,” I say.
“And if Frank wins?”
“I’ll tell you that you were right all along to doubt me,” I say.
Shannon puts out her hand. We shake.
Deal.
I sit up and slide off the bed.
“Where you going?”
“Bathroom.”
I depart without a hint of what I’m planning to do. That’s how I know I’m serious.
I won’t even give her the chance to talk me out of it.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies, Chapter 45: Oops baby, Chapter 46: Winnah
Labels: chapter 45, oops baby, traveling
“The rules of Yarthies are simple,” I say, pacing inside the circle. “If one player directly hands another player something – anything – and the other player takes it, the giver can say ‘Yarthies,’ and the game is over.”
Plunger throws his plunger at me. I catch it.
“Yarthies,” Plunger says, grinning.
“Nope,” I say. “Nothing can be thrown, tossed, hurled, or otherwise chucked at the other person. The object can only be…” I walk over to Plunger and hand it to him. “…handed over, and…” he takes it, “…accepted. The game relies on a mental lapse of the receiver. If he takes the item, he is susceptible to Yarthies.”
“You said these games can last a long time…sometimes years,” Patch says.
“That’s right,” I say.
“What if the giver has a mental lapse, and just happens to hand another player something, but forgets to say anything?” Patch says.
“Then the game continues,” I say.
Patch nods his understanding.
“The first couple of games against Frank lasted only a few hours,” I say. “He would hand me a pen or a piece of paper, and I was done. Our third game lasted 8 months. It ended when Frank told me a USB drive he was holding contained ‘the greatest video ever.’ Assuming it was porn, I took it from him without a thought, and he won. The fourth game lasted 2 years. Frank won that game when he happened to be sitting next to me in a company meeting. There was a handout that came to Frank first. He took one, handed the rest to me, and whispered Yarthies out the corner of his mouth. There have been no games since.”
“So you’ve never won,” Tooth says.
“Correct,” I say.
Tooth grins.
“So this is it,” he says.
“This is what?” I say.
“The reason you’re here,” he says.
I say nothing, choosing instead to let the story tell itself.
The double bed from the guest room of Frank and Bonnie’s home appears. Shannon lies in it, staring forlornly at the ceiling. I climb in next to her.
“We finally gonna get our sex scene?” Patch says.
“Yes,” I say.
“Really?” Patch says.
“No,” I say.
Patch frowns.
I lie down next to Shannon and join her in staring at the ceiling.
The circle shrinks as everyone leans in.
And it begins.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies, Chapter 45: Oops baby, Chapter 46: Winnah
Plunger throws his plunger at me. I catch it.
“Yarthies,” Plunger says, grinning.
“Nope,” I say. “Nothing can be thrown, tossed, hurled, or otherwise chucked at the other person. The object can only be…” I walk over to Plunger and hand it to him. “…handed over, and…” he takes it, “…accepted. The game relies on a mental lapse of the receiver. If he takes the item, he is susceptible to Yarthies.”
“You said these games can last a long time…sometimes years,” Patch says.
“That’s right,” I say.
“What if the giver has a mental lapse, and just happens to hand another player something, but forgets to say anything?” Patch says.
“Then the game continues,” I say.
Patch nods his understanding.
“The first couple of games against Frank lasted only a few hours,” I say. “He would hand me a pen or a piece of paper, and I was done. Our third game lasted 8 months. It ended when Frank told me a USB drive he was holding contained ‘the greatest video ever.’ Assuming it was porn, I took it from him without a thought, and he won. The fourth game lasted 2 years. Frank won that game when he happened to be sitting next to me in a company meeting. There was a handout that came to Frank first. He took one, handed the rest to me, and whispered Yarthies out the corner of his mouth. There have been no games since.”
“So you’ve never won,” Tooth says.
“Correct,” I say.
Tooth grins.
“So this is it,” he says.
“This is what?” I say.
“The reason you’re here,” he says.
I say nothing, choosing instead to let the story tell itself.
The double bed from the guest room of Frank and Bonnie’s home appears. Shannon lies in it, staring forlornly at the ceiling. I climb in next to her.
“We finally gonna get our sex scene?” Patch says.
“Yes,” I say.
“Really?” Patch says.
“No,” I say.
Patch frowns.
I lie down next to Shannon and join her in staring at the ceiling.
The circle shrinks as everyone leans in.
And it begins.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies, Chapter 45: Oops baby, Chapter 46: Winnah
Labels: Chapter 44, traveling, Yarthies
“You should’ve seen your face when I hit the water!” Frank bellows across the dinner table. “Complete shock.”
“I’ll bet,” I say, trying to smile as if I enjoyed being punk’d in front of my kids.
“You’re quite the jokester, Frank.”
“That’s why your sis loves me,” Frank says, winking his chunky eyelid at Bonnie, who looks back at him as if the love faded years ago.
Frank looks at my kids and leans forward.
“Did you guys know your dad and I used to work together back in Boston?” he asks.
Dev, Edwin and Fiona jointly shake their heads.
Frank turns to his sons. “That’s how I met your mother, boys.”
“So…why exactly did I introduce you to this guy again?” I say to Bonnie. I wink at Frank like I’m joking. He buys it, then looks wistfully into the air.
“Ah, those were the days,” he says. “You remember those days, Doug?”
“They were days, all right,” I say.
Frank looks around the table. “Doug and I pranked each other in the office a lot,” he says. “You remember that last one, Doug?”
“You mean the one that got me transferred to Chicago, and got you fired?” I say.
“That’s the one,” Frank says. “If I hadn’t found the KC job so fast at twice the money and half the hours, I might be ticked at you for letting things get so out of hand.”
I make anger fists in my lap. My new job resulted in less pay and more hours.
“What are you doing again?” I say.
“Software Technology Data Specialist,” Franks says.
“STD Specialist,” I say. “Does that require special gloves?”
“Funny,” Frank says. Tapping his chunky fingers to the table, he gets a pained look on his face. “What was the last prank you pulled on me? It was so lame I can barely even remember.”
“I replaced your computer with a cardboard one,” I say.
“Right!” Frank says, pointing at me. His wedding ring looks like it’s wrapped around a raw Kielbasa. He scans the kids’ faces and grins. “It was so cute,” he says. “Doug made a computer screen, keyboard, mouse, even a computer chair out of cardboard. Took me about ten minutes to put everything back in place…You remember what I did, Doug?”
Infatuated with himself, Frank swells with pride. This is no simple task, given that he is already a distended parade float of a man in his normal state.
Bonnie and Shannon are both stone-faced and still. They remember it well. How could they not? Both their lives were forever changed as a result.
A high-pitched wail erupts through a baby monitor in the corner. Bonnie rises without hesitation. She clearly wants nothing to do with this conversation.
“Lucius is awake,” she says.
“I’ll help,” Shannon says, equally repelled by the subject matter.
The wives disappear, leaving Frank, five kids, and me – one fully-formed frontal lobe between the lot of us.
“So what did he do, Dad?” Devlin says.
I know if I sound angry or look defeated, it’s going to make me seem like an even bigger putz, so I don’t hesitate or speak with malice.
“He messed with my Microsoft Word settings so that whenever I typed our company name, it would automatically change to the word ‘penis,’” I say.
The kids all gasp and giggle with delight. Only Devlin really seems to understand – the rest of them are merely enchanted by the word penis.
Frank smacks the table. “Is that awesome or what?” he says.
“Yeah, it was the most unusual quarterly report our female CEO had ever seen,” I say.
“Well, you should’ve done a spell check,” Frank says.
“I did,” I say, “but Penis is an actual word, so-”
“Well, you should’ve proofread,” Frank says. He looks around at the kids and scoffs. “Who doesn’t proofread a document they’re sending to a CEO?”
“You’re right,” I say. “It was my fault.”
Bonnie and Shannon return. Bonnie is cradling Lucius, their 9-month-old, in her arms. He’s cute – reddish hair and blue eyes, like Bonnie.
“Here’s your new nephew, Doug,” Bonnie says, looking as proud of her son as Frank did about sabotaging my auto-correct feature.
“Yeah, he’s cute,” I say in a thoughtless whatever tone, and return my attention to Frank. “How about a game of Yarthies, Frank?”
The lights dim and there’s a pulse of dramatic music. Frank replies, but his lips don’t match up with his words.
“Yarthies, eh?” he says. “You’re only here two days. You think you can beat me in two days?”
Our last Yarthies match went 2 years.
“I do,” I say. From my pockets I produce ninja throwing stars. They make a metallic zing as I spread them in my fingers. I hurl them at Frank, who halts them in midair with a wave of his open hand. The stars fall harmlessly to the table.
“I got knife-scars more than the number of your leg's hair!” Frank says. “Do you feel the stink smell? That is you.”
“You’re petulant, but not concentrated enough,” I reply. “I have been scared like a mouse too much lately. Your soul is nothing but toilet paper. I shall clean myself with it.”
I look over to Patch, who now sits to my right.
“Really?” I say. “We had to go ninja-kung-fu movie?”
“Absolutely,” Patch says. “This challenge is definitely ninja-fung-fu worthy.” Patch looks at Frank. His eyes get an extreme close up. “You daring lousy guy,” Patch says. “You disarray my intestines! I’ve got furious now.”
Frank stands, his girth casting shadows.
“Game on,” he says.
And his lips match the words.
It’s on.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell, Chapter 44: Yarthies
Labels: chapter 43: Stink Smell, traveling
Tooth reads from a computer printout.
“‘Ever tried. Ever failed,’” he says. “‘No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.’” He folds up the paper and looks around at us, profound meaning in his eyes. “A quote by Samuel Beckett.”
“Ah, good ol’ Mark Twain,” Patch says.
“No, that was Samuel Clemens,” Tooth says. “But the fact that you knew Mark Twain is a pen name is astonishing. So…you get points for that.” Tooth focuses on me. “What I’m saying, Doug, is…you failed better. You accepted the Celtics’ fate and were mature and gracious for your son.”
I’m not buying it. Tooth can tell.
“What,” he says.
“I’m here,” I say.
Tooth doesn’t get it.
“Why would I be here if I failed better?” I say. “I put on a show for my son…I failed better temporarily.”
“I see,” Tooth says. “There’s more.”
I nod. A quiet chorus of groans wafts through the room.
“Now, now,” Tooth says. “Let’s be supportive, people.”
“Is there a lot more?” Patch says, “because I want to get back to talking about myself soon.”
“One more stop,” I say. “Kansas City. My sister’s family lives there.”
“Are they vampires?” Patch says.
“No.”
“Werewolves?” Bandana asks. “We haven’t had a good werewolf attack yet.”
“No,” I say.
“What about machine-generated cyborgs who have travelled back in time to kill the future leader of the human resistance?” Patch says.
“You just described Terminator,” I say. “And no.”
“I’ll bet Schwartzenegger does another sequel,” Stache says.
“He’s like 70,” Patch says. “How would he do that?”
“Well, maybe the machines failed with brute force, they tried to infiltrate the human resistance with terminator spies that age like humans,” Stache says.
Come with me if you want a great buffet.
“That’s genius,” Patch says, looking like a caveman who’s just witnessed the invention of fire.
I raise an index finger. “Uh…one question,” I say. “If the machines are going to try to infiltrate the human population, don’t you think they’d create a terminator spy that doesn’t look like Arnold Schwartzenegger, the same guy who’s been tormenting the humans forever?”
"The machines did figure that out," Patch says, looking disappointed that the idea is falling apart. "In the first movie, there was a terminator ripping up a human hideout, and it wasn't Arnie."
“Maybe the machines only have one mold left,” Stache says. “One prototype human mold.”
This revives Patch, who doesn’t want to abandon the thrilling notion. “Yeah, one mold,” he says.
"And that mold now looks like an old Arnold Schwartzenegger," I say.
Stache fires me a resentful look. "You're a real buzz kill, you know that?" he says.
"I'm sorry," I say. “I just didn't know that making a Terminator is like using play dough.”
A cow appears in the center of the circle. It stands in a lumpy mass of manure, its legs blackened by the stuff up to its knees. The smell is instantly horrifying.
“Whoa, man,” Patch says, covering his nose. “What’s this?”
“Must be Nebraska,” I say. “Fiona said the entire state, and I quote, ‘Smells like cow butt.’”
“Can we proceed to Kansas City, please?” Patch says, his eye watering.
“I thought you’d never ask,” I say.
The cow is gone, replaced by a single dinner plate resting on a large table.
“Tell me,” I say to Patch. “Did you know Kansas City has bugs in the water?”
I stand and approach the plate, summoning Patch to do the same. He does.
“They’re miniscule,” I say, leaning over the puddle of clear water that fills the plate’s inner circle. Patch mimics me.
“Can you see them?” I say, each of us only inches from the water.
“No,” Patch says, sliding his head this way and that, trying to locate the bugs against the overhead cafeteria lights.
BAM!
I slam my open palm onto the water, sending a pulse of spray into Patch’s face. He jerks backward and nearly tumbles to the floor.
“What the hell was that?” he says, his face dripping and his shirt speckled with dark wet spots.
“That,” I say, “was Frank.”
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold
“‘Ever tried. Ever failed,’” he says. “‘No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.’” He folds up the paper and looks around at us, profound meaning in his eyes. “A quote by Samuel Beckett.”
“Ah, good ol’ Mark Twain,” Patch says.
“No, that was Samuel Clemens,” Tooth says. “But the fact that you knew Mark Twain is a pen name is astonishing. So…you get points for that.” Tooth focuses on me. “What I’m saying, Doug, is…you failed better. You accepted the Celtics’ fate and were mature and gracious for your son.”
I’m not buying it. Tooth can tell.
“What,” he says.
“I’m here,” I say.
Tooth doesn’t get it.
“Why would I be here if I failed better?” I say. “I put on a show for my son…I failed better temporarily.”
“I see,” Tooth says. “There’s more.”
I nod. A quiet chorus of groans wafts through the room.
“Now, now,” Tooth says. “Let’s be supportive, people.”
“Is there a lot more?” Patch says, “because I want to get back to talking about myself soon.”
“One more stop,” I say. “Kansas City. My sister’s family lives there.”
“Are they vampires?” Patch says.
“No.”
“Werewolves?” Bandana asks. “We haven’t had a good werewolf attack yet.”
“No,” I say.
“What about machine-generated cyborgs who have travelled back in time to kill the future leader of the human resistance?” Patch says.
“You just described Terminator,” I say. “And no.”
“I’ll bet Schwartzenegger does another sequel,” Stache says.
“He’s like 70,” Patch says. “How would he do that?”
“Well, maybe the machines failed with brute force, they tried to infiltrate the human resistance with terminator spies that age like humans,” Stache says.
“That’s genius,” Patch says, looking like a caveman who’s just witnessed the invention of fire.
I raise an index finger. “Uh…one question,” I say. “If the machines are going to try to infiltrate the human population, don’t you think they’d create a terminator spy that doesn’t look like Arnold Schwartzenegger, the same guy who’s been tormenting the humans forever?”
"The machines did figure that out," Patch says, looking disappointed that the idea is falling apart. "In the first movie, there was a terminator ripping up a human hideout, and it wasn't Arnie."
“Maybe the machines only have one mold left,” Stache says. “One prototype human mold.”
This revives Patch, who doesn’t want to abandon the thrilling notion. “Yeah, one mold,” he says.
"And that mold now looks like an old Arnold Schwartzenegger," I say.
Stache fires me a resentful look. "You're a real buzz kill, you know that?" he says.
"I'm sorry," I say. “I just didn't know that making a Terminator is like using play dough.”
A cow appears in the center of the circle. It stands in a lumpy mass of manure, its legs blackened by the stuff up to its knees. The smell is instantly horrifying.
“Whoa, man,” Patch says, covering his nose. “What’s this?”
“Must be Nebraska,” I say. “Fiona said the entire state, and I quote, ‘Smells like cow butt.’”
“Can we proceed to Kansas City, please?” Patch says, his eye watering.
“I thought you’d never ask,” I say.
The cow is gone, replaced by a single dinner plate resting on a large table.
“Tell me,” I say to Patch. “Did you know Kansas City has bugs in the water?”
I stand and approach the plate, summoning Patch to do the same. He does.
“They’re miniscule,” I say, leaning over the puddle of clear water that fills the plate’s inner circle. Patch mimics me.
“Can you see them?” I say, each of us only inches from the water.
“No,” Patch says, sliding his head this way and that, trying to locate the bugs against the overhead cafeteria lights.
BAM!
I slam my open palm onto the water, sending a pulse of spray into Patch’s face. He jerks backward and nearly tumbles to the floor.
“What the hell was that?” he says, his face dripping and his shirt speckled with dark wet spots.
“That,” I say, “was Frank.”
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold
Labels: Chapter 42, One Mold, traveling
Shannon and Colleen are sitting at the kitchen table having coffee and chatting.
“So?” Shannon says. “They win?”
I shake my head.
“That’s too bad,” she says, not even trying to pretend she cares. “Is Dev ok?”
I shake my head again. “He’s down there crying,” I say.
Shannon looks at Colleen with her mouth slightly agape, as if she’s looking at a kitten in a store window. Colleen returns the same look. In unison, they expel an Awwww.
“I tried to make him feel better,” I say. “It was tough to see him like that.”
“Kids cry easily at this age,” Shannon says. “He’ll be ok.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “The kids on Edwin’s basketball team were like that too.”
“Yeah, but in that case, it was because you were such an awful coach,” Shannon says.
My chest goes concave as if I’ve just been punched in the chest.
Shannon laughs. “I was totally joking, honey,” she says.
“Very funny,” I say.
My pocket vibrates.
“Must be Bill,” Shannon says.
I take out my phone and wander into the living room.
Bill_Celticfan: Dude
Titletown_Dougie: dude
Bill_Celticfan: I’m still in shock
Titletown_Dougie: I know. me too.
Bill_Celticfan: they were ahead almost the whole game
Titletown_Dougie: i know
Bill_Celticfan: I mean I knew the Lakers would make a run, but…
Titletown_Dougie: yeah. I was already raising the banner in my mind.
Bill_Celticfan: 18..woulda been 18.
Titletown_Dougie: we’re still up tho. Lakers only have 16.
Bill_Celticfan: 11…you know I don’t count the five when they were the Minneapolis Lakers.
Titletown_Dougie: you’re grasping at straws, man.
Bill_Celticfan: you know what? Let the world think they have 16. we both know the truth.
Titletown_Dougie: yeah yeah
Bill_Celticfan: don’t flake on me. this is when we need to stay strongest.
Titletown_Dougie: ok
Bill_Celticfan: and hey…at least we have the sweet release of death to look forward to
Titletown_Dougie: i used that argument on devlin. didn’t go over well.
Bill_Celticfan: took it hard?
Titletown_Dougie: yeah
Bill_Celticfan: he’ll be fine. kids are resilient…we’re the ones who suffer. This is what we live for
Titletown_Dougie: come on – friends, family, health
Bill_Celticfan: yeah yeah…you know what I mean.
Titletown_Dougie: I know
Bill_Celticfan: alright, I’m gonna go ketel one and soda this feeling out of my system.
Titletown_Dougie: alright
Bill_Celticfan: patriots training camp soon
Titletown_Dougie: yup
Bill_Celticfan: think pleasant tom-brady-men’s-magazine-homoerotic-overtone-photo-shoot thoughts
Straight as an arrow.
Yup. Ladies' man all the way.
You're not making this easy on me, dude.
Titletown_Dougie: funny. Later.
Bill_Celticfan: later…and hey
Titletown_Dougie: yeah?
Bill_Celticfan: fail better.
Titletown_Dougie: what?
Bill_Celticfan: fail better
Titletown_Dougie: ok
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell
“So?” Shannon says. “They win?”
I shake my head.
“That’s too bad,” she says, not even trying to pretend she cares. “Is Dev ok?”
I shake my head again. “He’s down there crying,” I say.
Shannon looks at Colleen with her mouth slightly agape, as if she’s looking at a kitten in a store window. Colleen returns the same look. In unison, they expel an Awwww.
“I tried to make him feel better,” I say. “It was tough to see him like that.”
“Kids cry easily at this age,” Shannon says. “He’ll be ok.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “The kids on Edwin’s basketball team were like that too.”
“Yeah, but in that case, it was because you were such an awful coach,” Shannon says.
My chest goes concave as if I’ve just been punched in the chest.
Shannon laughs. “I was totally joking, honey,” she says.
“Very funny,” I say.
My pocket vibrates.
“Must be Bill,” Shannon says.
I take out my phone and wander into the living room.
Bill_Celticfan: Dude
Titletown_Dougie: dude
Bill_Celticfan: I’m still in shock
Titletown_Dougie: I know. me too.
Bill_Celticfan: they were ahead almost the whole game
Titletown_Dougie: i know
Bill_Celticfan: I mean I knew the Lakers would make a run, but…
Titletown_Dougie: yeah. I was already raising the banner in my mind.
Bill_Celticfan: 18..woulda been 18.
Titletown_Dougie: we’re still up tho. Lakers only have 16.
Bill_Celticfan: 11…you know I don’t count the five when they were the Minneapolis Lakers.
Titletown_Dougie: you’re grasping at straws, man.
Bill_Celticfan: you know what? Let the world think they have 16. we both know the truth.
Titletown_Dougie: yeah yeah
Bill_Celticfan: don’t flake on me. this is when we need to stay strongest.
Titletown_Dougie: ok
Bill_Celticfan: and hey…at least we have the sweet release of death to look forward to
Titletown_Dougie: i used that argument on devlin. didn’t go over well.
Bill_Celticfan: took it hard?
Titletown_Dougie: yeah
Bill_Celticfan: he’ll be fine. kids are resilient…we’re the ones who suffer. This is what we live for
Titletown_Dougie: come on – friends, family, health
Bill_Celticfan: yeah yeah…you know what I mean.
Titletown_Dougie: I know
Bill_Celticfan: alright, I’m gonna go ketel one and soda this feeling out of my system.
Titletown_Dougie: alright
Bill_Celticfan: patriots training camp soon
Titletown_Dougie: yup
Bill_Celticfan: think pleasant tom-brady-men’s-magazine-homoerotic-overtone-photo-shoot thoughts
Titletown_Dougie: funny. Later.
Bill_Celticfan: later…and hey
Titletown_Dougie: yeah?
Bill_Celticfan: fail better.
Titletown_Dougie: what?
Bill_Celticfan: fail better
Titletown_Dougie: ok
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold, Chapter 43: Stink Smell
Labels: 17 to 12, chapter 41, traveling
Dev starts to tear up as Sasha Vujacic hits another free throw, putting the Lakers up 4 with 11 seconds left in the game.
I feel like Dev looks, but an ingrained parental mechanism keeps me from showing it. Something about a father and son jointly overcome with grief over a sporting event strikes me as pathetic.
So I have to be the strong one.
“No need to cry,” I say as the clock ticks down.
I fumble for the remote. I can’t watch the Lakers celebrate. I hit the power button just as Kobe Bryant starts to jump around the court. At least we manage to avoid the confetti.
“So you want to play some pool?” I say.
Dev just sits there, red-eyed and sniffling.
“It’s just a basketball game,” I say.
God, listen to me. The Lakers just squeaked past us in a Finals Game 7 where we led most of the way, and I’m calling it just a basketball game. I can practically hear Jack Nicholson cackling all the way from Los Angeles.
“That was bullcrap,” Dev says. Bullcrap is one of those borderline curse words he’s allowed to say without being yelled at.
“Yes it was,” I agree, keeping calm.
“The officials sucked,” he says. Suck is another one of those words.
Now if I were talking to Bill, I would agree wholeheartedly that the officials sucked. I’d go off on the home-cookin’ calls down the stretch, and I might even gripe about how I thought Kobe intentionally undercut Perkins from behind in Game 6 to bust up his leg and keep him out of Game 7. With Bill, I could be my illogical, irrational fan self without consequences.
But this isn’t Bill. This conversation has consequences. Hell, past conversations had consequences, the result of which I’m seeing right now.
Time to end the cycle.
“Now, now,” I say. “The Lakers won fair and square.”
Dev drops his face into a couch pillow and cries into it. His muffled weeping makes me feel concern, guilt and anger all at once. Concern because I worry how he’ll weather disappointments in the future. Guilt because I may be partly to blame for his breakdown. Anger because I want to just put this moment of Celtic defeat behind me, and his crying isn’t helping. Not to mention, I really hate the idea that the Lakers can make my kid cry. It’s like they have power over us, and that’s discomforting.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I say. “Come on. This isn’t the end of the world.”
The noise from the pillow stops, but Dev keeps his face buried in shame.
“You know what?” I say. “In the grand scheme of things, this is not a big deal.”
Dev lifts his reddened face off the pillow to absorb my words of wisdom.
“I mean, someday, I’m going to die,” I say. “And someday, you’ll die. And…this game won’t mean anything at all, really.”
Dev looks at me like I’m insane. I think he might be right.
“That wasn’t very comforting, was it,” I say.
Dev’s head drops back into the pillow.
Billiard balls rattle behind us. Tooth and Patch are at the pool table. I wait for the inevitable snide comment – to be told how closely I came to acting mature, and blew it.
No such comment comes. For the first time, Patch and Tooth are speechless.
I leave Dev alone to mourn in private. Anything I say at this point will only do more harm than good.
And besides, I can’t take any more crying.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold
I feel like Dev looks, but an ingrained parental mechanism keeps me from showing it. Something about a father and son jointly overcome with grief over a sporting event strikes me as pathetic.
So I have to be the strong one.
“No need to cry,” I say as the clock ticks down.
I fumble for the remote. I can’t watch the Lakers celebrate. I hit the power button just as Kobe Bryant starts to jump around the court. At least we manage to avoid the confetti.
“So you want to play some pool?” I say.
Dev just sits there, red-eyed and sniffling.
“It’s just a basketball game,” I say.
God, listen to me. The Lakers just squeaked past us in a Finals Game 7 where we led most of the way, and I’m calling it just a basketball game. I can practically hear Jack Nicholson cackling all the way from Los Angeles.
“That was bullcrap,” Dev says. Bullcrap is one of those borderline curse words he’s allowed to say without being yelled at.
“Yes it was,” I agree, keeping calm.
“The officials sucked,” he says. Suck is another one of those words.
Now if I were talking to Bill, I would agree wholeheartedly that the officials sucked. I’d go off on the home-cookin’ calls down the stretch, and I might even gripe about how I thought Kobe intentionally undercut Perkins from behind in Game 6 to bust up his leg and keep him out of Game 7. With Bill, I could be my illogical, irrational fan self without consequences.
But this isn’t Bill. This conversation has consequences. Hell, past conversations had consequences, the result of which I’m seeing right now.
Time to end the cycle.
“Now, now,” I say. “The Lakers won fair and square.”
Dev drops his face into a couch pillow and cries into it. His muffled weeping makes me feel concern, guilt and anger all at once. Concern because I worry how he’ll weather disappointments in the future. Guilt because I may be partly to blame for his breakdown. Anger because I want to just put this moment of Celtic defeat behind me, and his crying isn’t helping. Not to mention, I really hate the idea that the Lakers can make my kid cry. It’s like they have power over us, and that’s discomforting.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I say. “Come on. This isn’t the end of the world.”
The noise from the pillow stops, but Dev keeps his face buried in shame.
“You know what?” I say. “In the grand scheme of things, this is not a big deal.”
Dev lifts his reddened face off the pillow to absorb my words of wisdom.
“I mean, someday, I’m going to die,” I say. “And someday, you’ll die. And…this game won’t mean anything at all, really.”
Dev looks at me like I’m insane. I think he might be right.
“That wasn’t very comforting, was it,” I say.
Dev’s head drops back into the pillow.
Billiard balls rattle behind us. Tooth and Patch are at the pool table. I wait for the inevitable snide comment – to be told how closely I came to acting mature, and blew it.
No such comment comes. For the first time, Patch and Tooth are speechless.
I leave Dev alone to mourn in private. Anything I say at this point will only do more harm than good.
And besides, I can’t take any more crying.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold
Labels: chapter 41, game 7, traveling
Annie and I sit next to each other – she with her bucket between her legs, I with my head in my lap.
Tooth gives us both the once over.
“Do you two really think the rest of the world should be more like you?” he says.
“Why not?” Annie says.
“So you’re the standard to which all others should aspire,” Tooth says, gesturing toward the bucket as if to reiterate the Really?
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say.
“But you’d go part of the way,” Tooth says.
I shrug.
Tooth thinks a bit.
“Ok,” he says with hand clap. “Let’s try an exercise.”
“Exercise?” Bandana says. “Been reading those psych books again?”
Tooth ignores the comment. “We’re going to have a Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament,” he announces.
Just like a Laker fan.
Brings paper to a shark knife fight.
Some groan. Others look excited.
Patch scoffs. “That’s a game of luck,” he says. “There’s no skill involved.”
“Precisely,” Tooth says. “The winner will be determined entirely by chance. We need to learn to accept that winning and losing is often beyond our control.”
“I already know that,” I say.
“But you don’t handle it well,” Tooth says.
“So you want me to feel good about being a loser?” I say.
“Listen to how you phrased that – being a loser,” Tooth says. “I want you to accept losing, not being a loser. Winning and losing does not define you. You need to stop treating it like it does.” Tooth stands. “Alright, let’s begin.”
He pairs us into twos and reminds us of the rules – rock breaks scissors, scissors cut paper, paper covers rock.
“Each round will be a best of 7 series,” Tooth says, with a wink to me. Amusing.
For starters, Annie and I face off.
“You ready to rock?” I say to her.
Squinting with concentration, she puts down her bucket and nods.
Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.
Now you might think I would go paper, given that Are you ready to rock? sounds like an attempt to put rock into her head.
But no.
Women have an inherent disrespect and distrust of men. Realizing I’m trying to make her think rock, Annie would expect me to go paper. To defend against this, she would go scissors.
Which she does. I go rock.
Rock breaks scissors. I’m up 1-0.
“Don’t rock the boat now,” I say.
Again with the rock. Will I go rock again? She either thinks I will, or thinks I’m expecting her to do so, which means I’m going rock or paper. In this case, her safest move is paper, giving her to the best odds to win or tie.
So of course, I go scissors. 2-0.
“This is strange,” I say. “On paper, you should be better than me at this.”
Now I’ve got her on the run. She hopes I’ll go paper, so she goes scissors.
I go rock instead.
3-0.
I finish her off in 5.
The next round is Patch. You wouldn’t think a person playing Rock, Paper, Scissors would have a tell, but Patch does. His middle finger twitches before rock, he makes a tight fist before paper, and he opens his hand like paper before scissors. I polish him off in 6.
Finally, it’s me and tooth. Standing, he and I face each other while the rest of the group circles us like it’s Fight Club or something.
The first rule of Rock, Paper, Scissors is: you do not talk about Rock, Paper, Scissors. The second rule of Rock, Paper, Scissors is: you DO NOT talk about Rock, Paper, Scissors.
I’ve never looked at Tooth quite this close before. His wisp of a beard looks like something only a 12-year-old would be proud of.
“You and me in the Finals,” he says, grinning.
As I’m staring at Tooth, trying to concentrate, I get dizzy. Something unpleasant is about to happen. I can almost feel the neurotransmitters in my brain firing in preposterous directions…
…the Finals. Seven-game series…
…colors changing…bad sound effects…
…Cirque de Soleil acrobats everywhere…
…baby bear plodding around...
…Cub Scouts with vampire teeth and blood drenched lips…
…Fiona chugging five-hour energy drinks and screaming “FREEDOM!” like Braveheart…
…Patch taking in the whole scene with an ecstatic, childlike smile on his face, screaming “THIS IS AWESOME!”…
Paul Pierce. The Truth. You can’t handle the Truth.
“So are we gonna play, or what?” The voice is dark and sinister.
It’s him.
The acrobats morph into Laker cheerleaders. The bear grows into Kobe Bryant. The Cub Scouts turn into…well, larger Cub Scouts, but now their uniforms have a yellow and purple theme.
“What are we waiting for?” he says.
I’m too afraid to reply. Maybe I’m waiting for him to pull out an axe and say Heeeeeere’s Johnny! or something.
That’s right. Him – the most sinister, powerful, profoundly in-your-face Laker fan in the history of Earth – Jack Nicholson.
“What are we waiting for?” he says in that distinctive baritone.
My perception of him spins as if he’s staring at me from inside a front loading dryer, and when he steadies, he’s become the cartoonish Joker character he played in that 1989 Michael Keaton Batman movie.
“Tell me something, my friend,” he says. “You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?”
“What?”
“I always ask that of all my prey. I just like the sound of it.”
“You’re insane.”
“I thought I was a Pisces.”
He smiles. I mean, in that make up he’s always smiling, but his cheeks curl up even further with that knowing Jackness.
“Do you remember what I did at the Boston Garden in Game 7 of ’84?” he says. “When you guys stole that championship from us? You remember what I did to the Boston crowd?”
He wouldn’t dare, I think to myself. Please, if I’m hallucinating, don’t let me hallucinate that. Wake me up. Or kill me. Yes, I’ll take death over having to see Jack Nicholson’s hairy ass.
That’s right. Jack Nicholson, dressed as the Joker, moons me.
“What do you think of that?” Jack taunts, still turned away and bent over.
I’m shaking – terrified, but also furious. I say the only thing I think could fluster Jack Nicholson.
“Heath Ledger’s Joker towered over yours!” I say.
That bothers him.
Perhaps more than I want it to.
Jack slowly pulls up his purple trousers and faces me. He wears an expression that makes me think his eyeballs alone could end my life.
“You really want to go there?” he says.
I’m frozen. The half of me that was furious is now pee-my-pants terrified.
Jack’s next aggravated words make me tremble like I’m in an earthquake. “It was 20 years between the two films!” he growls. “At the time, I was sinister, edgy, and cool, and you know it.”
“Yes, sir,” I say. I can’t believe I’m cowering before a man who just mooned me.
Why...so...serious?
“Now apologize for what you just said!” Jack commands.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I say.
I can’t go out this quietly. I just can’t.
I need something.
“May I request one thing, sir?” I say. “Just one?”
Jack gives a lordly nod.
“On the rare occasions that the Lakers do lose, could you not schmooze the winning team?” I say. “It’s really obnoxious, and it just reminds me how much better your life is than mine.”
“I know,” Jack says, unblinking. “That’s why I do it.”
He unleashes that high pitched Joker laugh, and the sound of it crumples me like I’m an old newspaper in the wind.
My vision shrinks into darkness.
Next thing I know, I’m lying on the floor with Tooth kneeling beside me. The group stands in a circle above him, looking only marginally concerned for my well-being.
“You ok, Doug?” Tooth says.
“Did I win?” I say.
“No,” Tooth says. “You went rock seven times and then fainted.”
“Seven times?” I say. “So I took it the distance.”
“Yeah,” Tooth says. “I didn’t think you’d keep going rock, but at some point I realized you were having a nervous breakdown. So…I won.”
I’m breathing slow and heavy.
“Must be…Game 7,” I say.
Tooth nods, and as he nods his face transforms back into Nicholson’s Joker.
The Joker starts to cry. His tears, dyed white with joker make up, drip onto my face.
Now I know I’m hallucinating.
Jack Nicholson does not cry.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold
Tooth gives us both the once over.
“Do you two really think the rest of the world should be more like you?” he says.
“Why not?” Annie says.
“So you’re the standard to which all others should aspire,” Tooth says, gesturing toward the bucket as if to reiterate the Really?
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say.
“But you’d go part of the way,” Tooth says.
I shrug.
Tooth thinks a bit.
“Ok,” he says with hand clap. “Let’s try an exercise.”
“Exercise?” Bandana says. “Been reading those psych books again?”
Tooth ignores the comment. “We’re going to have a Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament,” he announces.
Brings paper to a shark knife fight.
Some groan. Others look excited.
Patch scoffs. “That’s a game of luck,” he says. “There’s no skill involved.”
“Precisely,” Tooth says. “The winner will be determined entirely by chance. We need to learn to accept that winning and losing is often beyond our control.”
“I already know that,” I say.
“But you don’t handle it well,” Tooth says.
“So you want me to feel good about being a loser?” I say.
“Listen to how you phrased that – being a loser,” Tooth says. “I want you to accept losing, not being a loser. Winning and losing does not define you. You need to stop treating it like it does.” Tooth stands. “Alright, let’s begin.”
He pairs us into twos and reminds us of the rules – rock breaks scissors, scissors cut paper, paper covers rock.
“Each round will be a best of 7 series,” Tooth says, with a wink to me. Amusing.
For starters, Annie and I face off.
“You ready to rock?” I say to her.
Squinting with concentration, she puts down her bucket and nods.
Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.
Now you might think I would go paper, given that Are you ready to rock? sounds like an attempt to put rock into her head.
But no.
Women have an inherent disrespect and distrust of men. Realizing I’m trying to make her think rock, Annie would expect me to go paper. To defend against this, she would go scissors.
Which she does. I go rock.
Rock breaks scissors. I’m up 1-0.
“Don’t rock the boat now,” I say.
Again with the rock. Will I go rock again? She either thinks I will, or thinks I’m expecting her to do so, which means I’m going rock or paper. In this case, her safest move is paper, giving her to the best odds to win or tie.
So of course, I go scissors. 2-0.
“This is strange,” I say. “On paper, you should be better than me at this.”
Now I’ve got her on the run. She hopes I’ll go paper, so she goes scissors.
I go rock instead.
3-0.
I finish her off in 5.
The next round is Patch. You wouldn’t think a person playing Rock, Paper, Scissors would have a tell, but Patch does. His middle finger twitches before rock, he makes a tight fist before paper, and he opens his hand like paper before scissors. I polish him off in 6.
Finally, it’s me and tooth. Standing, he and I face each other while the rest of the group circles us like it’s Fight Club or something.
The first rule of Rock, Paper, Scissors is: you do not talk about Rock, Paper, Scissors. The second rule of Rock, Paper, Scissors is: you DO NOT talk about Rock, Paper, Scissors.
I’ve never looked at Tooth quite this close before. His wisp of a beard looks like something only a 12-year-old would be proud of.
“You and me in the Finals,” he says, grinning.
As I’m staring at Tooth, trying to concentrate, I get dizzy. Something unpleasant is about to happen. I can almost feel the neurotransmitters in my brain firing in preposterous directions…
…the Finals. Seven-game series…
…colors changing…bad sound effects…
…Cirque de Soleil acrobats everywhere…
…baby bear plodding around...
…Cub Scouts with vampire teeth and blood drenched lips…
…Fiona chugging five-hour energy drinks and screaming “FREEDOM!” like Braveheart…
…Patch taking in the whole scene with an ecstatic, childlike smile on his face, screaming “THIS IS AWESOME!”…
Paul Pierce. The Truth. You can’t handle the Truth.
“So are we gonna play, or what?” The voice is dark and sinister.
It’s him.
The acrobats morph into Laker cheerleaders. The bear grows into Kobe Bryant. The Cub Scouts turn into…well, larger Cub Scouts, but now their uniforms have a yellow and purple theme.
“What are we waiting for?” he says.
I’m too afraid to reply. Maybe I’m waiting for him to pull out an axe and say Heeeeeere’s Johnny! or something.
That’s right. Him – the most sinister, powerful, profoundly in-your-face Laker fan in the history of Earth – Jack Nicholson.
“What are we waiting for?” he says in that distinctive baritone.
My perception of him spins as if he’s staring at me from inside a front loading dryer, and when he steadies, he’s become the cartoonish Joker character he played in that 1989 Michael Keaton Batman movie.
“Tell me something, my friend,” he says. “You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?”
“What?”
“I always ask that of all my prey. I just like the sound of it.”
“You’re insane.”
“I thought I was a Pisces.”
He smiles. I mean, in that make up he’s always smiling, but his cheeks curl up even further with that knowing Jackness.
“Do you remember what I did at the Boston Garden in Game 7 of ’84?” he says. “When you guys stole that championship from us? You remember what I did to the Boston crowd?”
He wouldn’t dare, I think to myself. Please, if I’m hallucinating, don’t let me hallucinate that. Wake me up. Or kill me. Yes, I’ll take death over having to see Jack Nicholson’s hairy ass.
That’s right. Jack Nicholson, dressed as the Joker, moons me.
“What do you think of that?” Jack taunts, still turned away and bent over.
I’m shaking – terrified, but also furious. I say the only thing I think could fluster Jack Nicholson.
“Heath Ledger’s Joker towered over yours!” I say.
That bothers him.
Perhaps more than I want it to.
Jack slowly pulls up his purple trousers and faces me. He wears an expression that makes me think his eyeballs alone could end my life.
“You really want to go there?” he says.
I’m frozen. The half of me that was furious is now pee-my-pants terrified.
Jack’s next aggravated words make me tremble like I’m in an earthquake. “It was 20 years between the two films!” he growls. “At the time, I was sinister, edgy, and cool, and you know it.”
“Yes, sir,” I say. I can’t believe I’m cowering before a man who just mooned me.
“Now apologize for what you just said!” Jack commands.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I say.
I can’t go out this quietly. I just can’t.
I need something.
“May I request one thing, sir?” I say. “Just one?”
Jack gives a lordly nod.
“On the rare occasions that the Lakers do lose, could you not schmooze the winning team?” I say. “It’s really obnoxious, and it just reminds me how much better your life is than mine.”
“I know,” Jack says, unblinking. “That’s why I do it.”
He unleashes that high pitched Joker laugh, and the sound of it crumples me like I’m an old newspaper in the wind.
My vision shrinks into darkness.
Next thing I know, I’m lying on the floor with Tooth kneeling beside me. The group stands in a circle above him, looking only marginally concerned for my well-being.
“You ok, Doug?” Tooth says.
“Did I win?” I say.
“No,” Tooth says. “You went rock seven times and then fainted.”
“Seven times?” I say. “So I took it the distance.”
“Yeah,” Tooth says. “I didn’t think you’d keep going rock, but at some point I realized you were having a nervous breakdown. So…I won.”
I’m breathing slow and heavy.
“Must be…Game 7,” I say.
Tooth nods, and as he nods his face transforms back into Nicholson’s Joker.
The Joker starts to cry. His tears, dyed white with joker make up, drip onto my face.
Now I know I’m hallucinating.
Jack Nicholson does not cry.
************
Links:
Travelling: Intro / Book Jacket, Chapter 1: Cribbagegate, Chapter 2: Two e-mails, Chapter 3: Pattern, Chapter 4: Shattered, Chapter 5: Hilarious Pee, Chapter 6: Suicide, Chapter 7/8: Coaching High school, Shark attacks and appetizers, Chapter 9: June, Chapter 10: 18 and oh no, Chapter 11: DNA, Chapter 12: Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Chapter 13: Tom Brady and the McGuffin, Chapter 14: Game 1, Chapter 15: Who the H is John Havlicek?, Chapters 16 - 17, Chapter 18: Game 2: Great White, Chapter 19: Pickle, Chapter 20: Marty McFly, Chapter 21 / 22: standard deviation, all the pretty flowers, Chapter 23: Game 3: Black Hills, Chapter 24: Twister, Chapter 25: Game 4, Chapter 26: Patriotic Agony, Chapter 27: Locusts, Chapter 28: skype, Chapter 29: Click, Chapter 30: Superman, Chapter 30: Ass Brunch Chapter 32: Mammoth, Chapter 33: Pathetic, Chapter 34: Purple and Gold, Chapter 35: Chowdah, Chapter 36: Mastermind, Chapter 37: m&m cookie dough, Chapter 38: taste, Chapter 39: Dance with the Devil, Chapter 40: Game 7, Chapter 41: 17 to 11, Chapter 42: One Mold
Labels: chapter 39, dance with the devil, traveling
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