by Jeff Strand
“No, you’re not. You’re going to call Laura.”
“Quit bugging me about this, I mean it.”
“If you don’t call her, I’m going to call her myself.”
“The whole thing is over. Let it drop.”
“Nope. I’m part of Out of Whack, too.”
I was getting exasperated. “What is it with you people? There is no Out of Whack.”
“There will be after I call her.”
Travis got up and picked up the phone. I could have wrestled it out of his grip or thrown part of the wall at him, I suppose, but I just stood there. Though I desperately wanted Laura back in my life, I just couldn’t see her having any desire to return after what happened.
Travis glanced over at Laura’s phone number, which was on a piece of paper designed to hold the wide array of numbers we planned to accumulate. So far it contained the numbers for Laura and Stinky’s Pizza Parlor.
He dialed.
“Hi, may I speak to Laura?... Laura, hi, it’s Travis... yeah, I know... yeah... yeah.. .okay, see you then. Bye.”
He hung up.
“Everything’s cool,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“We’re going over there tomorrow night at eight. You’ll need to have a script ready.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Pretty wild, huh?”
“What’d she say?” I demanded.
“She said she figured you’d change your mind, and that all was forgiven. Personally, I thought the conversation went fairly well.”
I sat back down, flabbergasted.
“Now, I expect you to behave yourself tomorrow,” Travis informed me. “If we can get through the evening without you killing Out of Whack again, we should be fine.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“We Actually Accomplish Some Stuff”
Larry knelt down next to the coffee table with his five year-old daughter, Ashley. They had blank paper, crayons, and a pair of plastic scissors spread out in front of them.
“Okay, Ashley, what do you want to draw?” Larry asked. “Do you want to draw our house?”
Ashley shook her head. “I want to draw a person.”
“Do you want to draw Bill, our mailman? Miss Polyer said that her art class enjoyed drawing him so much that they hired him for private sessions.”
“Uh-uh. I want to draw Aunt Margaret.”
“Oh, Aunt Margaret is a good person to draw. You had a good idea, Ashley.”
Ashley began to scribble on the paper. Larry looked on with approval.
“You’re doing a very good job, honey. Can you draw Aunt Margaret’s brown hair?”
Ashley nodded, then picked up a brown crayon and began to draw in some hair.
“That’s very, very good,” Larry told her. “You’re going to be a famous artist when you grow up. Now can you draw those huge copper earrings that Daddy bought her as a joke, that Aunt Margaret feels obligated to wear whenever Daddy is around?”
Ashley drew in the earrings.
“Oh, that is very, very, very good, honey. Now can you draw the tumor that’s slowly killing her?”
“Uh-huh.” Ashley continued drawing.
“Wonderful, sweetheart. Daddy is so proud of you. Now, what color will Aunt Margaret be after the tumor kills her?”
“Green!”
“That’s right!”
Ashley used her green crayon to color over the picture.
“Okay, let’s play a game,” said Larry. “When the worms finally make it inside her coffin, what parts will they eat?”
With the plastic scissors, Ashley cut off both of the arms and one of the legs.
“Once again I can see why I love you so much. Now, let’s suppose that cultists break into the graveyard and exhume her corpse. Which part of Aunt Margaret would they find most useful for their unholy rituals?”
Ashley cut off the head.
“Exactly! And what would they do with the head?”
“Burn it.”
“And why aren’t you going to show me that?”
“It’s dangerous to play with matches,” Ashley said, beaming with pride.
“That’s absolutely right! You’re Daddy’s girl, no doubt about it.”
* * *
Laura set down her script. “This is really sick,” she said with a grin, dropping the little girl voice.
“Why, thank you very much,” I said.
Travis dipped his chocolate bar into his glass of Mountain Dew and took a bite. It was a new taste sensation he’d discovered that was gradually getting on our nerves. “I think it sounds good.”
Laura nodded. “I like it, but do you think it’s too, um, dark for us to perform in front of people?”
“Nope,” I said.
“Uh-uh,” Travis said.
“Okay, as long as we’re in agreement. What about the paper? Should we have a really big piece, so they can see what I’m drawing?”
“We should have a pre-drawn picture,” I suggested. “You can just pretend to draw at first, but really scribble the green on it, and hold it up when you cut off the arms and legs.”
“That’ll work.”
Laura was doing an exceptional job of pretending that nothing had happened. We’d been in her dorm room for about fifteen minutes and hadn’t said one word about last night. If Laura wanted to wipe it from her memory, well, I was all for it.
“Next,” said Laura, extending her arm toward me. I handed her and Travis the next script. I’d written the tumor skit during that day’s English class, but this was one I’d written during the summer.
“This one should be easy to do,” I said. “We’ll just push two chairs together and pretend that you’re in a car. Costumes might be a problem—you two have just gotten married, so we’ll at least need a veil or something.”
“We’ll see what we can find at Goodwill,” Laura said.
Travis took another bite of dipped chocolate. “Ready for the read-through?”
“Always,” Laura told him.
Through their almost-magical acting abilities, Travis and Laura became Sean and Tracy, a newly married, rice-covered couple driving away from the church.
* * *
“This is the happiest day of my life, sweetie,” said Sean.
“Mine too, honey,” said Tracy.
They drove in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company. Then Tracy pointed out the window. “Slug bug!” She punched Sean lightly on the arm.
“Hey, watch it!” said Sean, amused. He chuckled, but then his eyes began to dart back and forth, actively seeking out another slug bug.
“I can’t believe everything went so smoothly,” said Tracy. “The caterers really knew what they were doing. Here I was all worried that there wouldn’t be enough butter, and yet there was plenty for everyone, which was surprising because you know how much Aunt Lyn loves butter.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” Sean’s eyes were squinted as he moved his head back and forth. If there was a slug bug to be found, by God he was going to find it.
“And you know,” Tracy continued, “I was against little Charlotte being one of the bridesmaids. I mean, she’s only seven, but she didn’t misbehave or anything. Oh, I think I caught a glimpse of mischief in her eyes once or twice, but she managed to keep it in check. The McCormick boy, though...I don’t know why his mother thinks he’s ready to go out in public. I mean—”
“Slug bug!” Sean shouted, victoriously. He lightly socked her on the arm. “What was that you were saying about the caterers, sweetie?”
“The conversation about the caterers is over and done, honey.”
“Oh. Sorry I missed it.”
They drove in silence for a moment.
“Ha! Slug bug again!” shouted Sean. “But since it’s our wedding day, I’ll skip the slugging part just this once.”
He grinned.
“You’re very happy with yourself, aren’t you?” asked Tracy.
“A little.”<
br />
“Oh, you’re just pleased as punch that you saw two slug bugs to my one.”
“I did see two, and I deserve to feel good about myself.”
“I don’t think you need to be so smug about it.”
“I have every right to be smug. I saw them before you.”
“Fine. Be smug.”
Another moment passed.
“Slug bug!” Tracy shouted.
“Where?”
“In the alley. We just passed it.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“It was there.”
“What color was it?”
“Blue.”
“You lie!”
“I’m not lying!” Tracy insisted.
“Okay, fine, let’s just turn the car around and check.”
“Don’t turn around. We’ll miss the plane.”
“What’s the matter?” Sean asked. “Scared that if we go back the slug bug will have mysteriously vanished? Or are you just doubting what you think you saw?”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Admit it. There was no slug bug in that alley.”
“I’ll admit no such thing.”
“Well, then, you’ll have no problem with us going back to confirm your little slug bug sighting.”
“Come on, honey...”
“Scared? Scared that the slug bug you say was just shining away in that alley for all the world to see might have floated up into the heavens? Oh, I know—maybe elves took it!”
He started to turn the car around. Tracy placed her hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly, head hung. “I didn’t really see a slug bug.”
“What was that, sweetie?”
“I didn’t really see a slug bug.”
“Gosh, what a surprise!”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
“So,” began Tracy, “isn’t Hawaii going to be fun? Relaxing on the beach, sipping champagne...”
“I’m not entirely certain I want to relax on the beach and sip champagne with somebody who would purposely try to deceive me about a slug bug sighting.”
“Please, just let it drop.”
“Oh, would we have let it drop had I been the one to falsify the report?”
“Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
“I don’t know,” said Sean. “You betrayed my trust. You tried to claim points on your slug bug witness scorecard that you hadn’t really earned, and something like that takes time to get over. And I honestly don’t believe that you’re truly sorry. I think that if we had to rerun the whole ugly scenario a second time, you’d pretend to see that slug bug all over again.”
“I wouldn’t!” Tracy insisted.
“I guess we’ll never know, will we?”
Tracy pointed up ahead. “Look! There’s one! I’ll let you have it!”
“You...you’d do that for me?” Sean asked, genuinely touched.
“Of course I would.”
“No, this is our wedding day. Let’s do it together!”
“Slug bug!” they shouted in unison.
“I love you, sweetie,” said Sean.
“I love you, honey,” said Tracy.
“Now, sweetie, let’s pull over to the side of the road and ravenously claw at each other’s bodies.”
* * *
“No ad-libbing, Travis,” I said, dropping my copy of the script on the floor. “Okay, I think that one sounds all right, if I can say so myself without being an ego-maniac. Now all we have to do is scoot the chairs apart and we’ll be all set for the next one.”
“What about costume changes?” Laura asked, glancing at the third script. “Most talk show hosts don’t wear bridal gowns.”
“We should probably make the veil the only wedding thing you wear during the slug bug skit,” I said. “Then all you’d have to do is take it off and you’d be in costume for the interview.”
“Works for me,” said Laura, transforming into talk show host Heather.
* * *
“Welcome to The Heather Show! Today we have a special guest, Percy Atkins, who has been scientifically determined to be the stupidest person on earth. Thank you for being here, Percy.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” replied Travis/Percy, using an upper class British accent.
“So, to start off, could you tell us what it’s like being the stupidest person in the world?”
“First off, I should clarify something. Technically I’m only the second stupidest person, but the stupidest person was struck by a car and is currently in a coma. If he pulls through I’ll be asked to relinquish my title.”
“Oh, I see. I guess that being the second stupidest person still makes you pretty dim, right?”
“I would think so, yes.”
“Good. Tell me, how do people treat you when they find out who you are?”
“Very poorly indeed, as you might expect. There’s a great deal of mockery, and you’d be amazed how many people will refuse to even attempt to have an intelligent conversation with me. I can’t even read a simple book without hearing some sort of disparaging comment.”
“You can read?”
“Certainly,” Percy replied. “Why do you ask?”
Heather shrugged. “It just seems that as the stupidest person in the world, reading would be a bit out of your grasp.”
“I think a basic skill such as reading is more dependent on quality of education than any inherent mental abilities.”
“Maybe you’re right. What do you read?”
“Currently I’m finishing The Communist Manifesto, a fascinating book by that great thinker Karl Marx. Of course, due to my limited mental state, some of the more complicated themes are proving a tad problematic for me to fully comprehend.”
Heather seemed uncomfortable. “Ummmm...you know, you really don’t seem all that stupid to me. I mean, you’re no genius, but you’re hardly the stupidest person in the world.”
“One can’t argue with the results of an IQ test. With all the research that goes into developing one, it seems foolish to attempt to contradict the results.”
“Are you sure you weren’t just tired that day?”
Percy shook his head. “No, no, I was wide awake.”
“Maybe you were putting your answers in the wrong section of the answer sheet.”
Percy was silent for a moment. “Listen...I have a confession to make. I cheated.”
“You purposely put down wrong answers?”
“Of course not. I stole an answer key, but it turned out to be the wrong one.”
Heather sighed. “So you’re not really the stupidest person in the world.”
“Yes I am. Stealing the wrong answer key is a very stupid thing to do.”
“I think this interview is over.”
“No! I am stupid! I’ll prove it to you. Ask me any math question and I’ll get it wrong.”
“What’s three plus three?”
“Seven. See how stupid I am?”
“If you were truly stupid, you wouldn’t know you got it wrong.”
“Ask me another one.”
“No. Get off my show.”
“Look at this stupid expression on my face,” said Percy, putting a very stupid expression on his face. Travis did this frighteningly well.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” Heather told him.
“See? I’m too stupid to fool anyone!”
“Listen to me, you’re not stupid and that’s all there is to it.”
“I’m not even a little stupid?” whined Percy.
“Maybe you’re a little stupid,” Heather conceded, “but I brought you here because I thought you were the stupidest person in the world. Even when I thought you were the second stupidest person, I was satisfied. But give me one good reason why I should interview a common dullard.”
“I’m cute.”
“You’re not cute.”
“So would you say I’m the ugliest person in the world?” Percy asked, hopefully.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No. Get off my show.”
“What if I took off my clothes? You could interview the most naked man in the world!”
“Absolutely not.”
“You wouldn’t have to look.”
“Get out of here!” said Heather. “You’re annoying everyone, and no, you’re not the most annoying person in the world.”
“What if I—?”
At this point, I actually played a small role, one that I couldn’t screw up. I was to go on stage, whack Travis over the head with a fake club, then drag him away as Laura spoke her final lines.
“Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen. There’s a dentist with a tongue fetish who also wanted to be interviewed tonight, but I’m not in the mood anymore. I’m Heather, and this has been The Heather Show! Adios!”
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I think we’ve got ourselves an act,” said Laura.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“The Path To Wherever”
We practiced for about two hours, reading through the scripts, blocking our movements, asking Travis to please dip his chocolate in another room, and getting the timing down. Travis and Laura had a great comedic chemistry together. I suspect that even if my scripts hadn’t been awesomely brilliant pieces of wit, they would have come off as funny just from the performances.
No, now that I think about it, actual jokes were probably necessary for their performances to be funny. But that doesn’t detract from the fact that they did a good job.
“I guess that about does it,” said Laura, placing her scripts on her desk. I noted with envy that even though those scripts contained a total of eleven pages, the desk didn’t strain under the weight, like ours would have. “Okay, here are our tasks. Travis and I will learn our lines. The correct lines, Travis. I’ll call Laugh Attack and try to get us a slot on amateur night. Travis, you find a suit that you could get married in without people wanting to hurt you with their rice. I’ll find a veil. Seth, write some more stuff. Are we missing anything?”
“I think we should come up with a secret Out of Whack handshake,” Travis suggested.