The Almost Champion

by Daniel Lawlis

  “Ah, then we have a trifecta to consider. Yet I see there is something about Edward that gives you pause. Does he excel Willie in mischief? I must confess I’m looking for a solitary boy, one that finds the thick textbooks of philosophy, science, and history more inviting than fishing, picnicking, chasing girls, and all the other vain distractions that prevent the mind from truly flourishing. Please tell me he does not share these vices, or I will have to discount him immediately.”

  “Who? Eddie?!” she chuckled and then promptly stopped herself, wanting to make the best impression possible on this man, who she now suddenly wished would choose her as his new protégé—but she quickly shut that voice up with the stern voice of reason.

  Putting on her most dignified expression, she said, “Forgive me; it’s just that Eddie is solitary if ever anyone was. He has no friends in class. So, on that front, I think he would meet your expectations splendidly.”

  “But the problem is . . . ?”

  “Well, he daydreams terribly. It’s hard to keep him focused on any task. He spends most of his time drawing wizards whenever he feels he can do so without being caught.”

  “Ah, as the great Seleganian philosopher Merclére said in his treatise on human development, ‘What is man to achieve, if man does not first dare to dream?’”

  Not entirely sure if this was a mere recitation of the great Merclére’s aphorism, or whether her erudite guest expected a reply, she found herself uncomfortably silent, which was also due at least in part to her having forgotten most of what she had read so many years ago from Merclére’s works in her university days, something that now seemed to have been from a previous lifetime.

  Granting her a pardon from any further distress over the matter, the baron said, “Yet, to your credit, I must concede that even reveries, if taken to excess, can prevent full self-actualization, as the creative mind must also be disciplined by the martinet of science and mathematics. If I defend the boy, it is only because I once shared his vices,” and then he smiled again at her with his clear blue eyes in a way that made her want to fight tooth and nail to make sure Eddie—no, Edward was the name the baron had used for him—was chosen.

  “Well, I see that any apprentice you choose will be most fortunate. I hope one here today finds himself or herself to be so lucky and that their parents will have the lucidity to realize that, even if this means sending their child away, it will be a small price to pay to have a near assurance their child will one day become a member of the highest ranks of society. You can count on my full support in urging any recalcitrant parents to come to their senses.”

  At this moment, the children began trickling into the classroom. When Snobby Bobby and Hairy Larry saw the man’s eyes, they cringed inwardly, feeling the same ominous sensation they had begun feeling around Eddie lately.

  When all the students were in the classroom, Mrs. Reichart gave a flattering introduction to the guest they were privileged to have amongst them and explained his purpose. This would likely have elicited a smarmy comment from Hairy or Bobby under other circumstances, but they found that every time the man’s eyes crossed theirs, they wanted to dig a hole about two hundred feet deep and jump inside of it to escape his gaze, even if the hole were filled with venomous snakes.

  To Mrs. Reichart’s amazement, Edward showed off an amazing rudimentary knowledge of science, math, and philosophy to her esteemed guest—so much so that she felt quite sorry for Julie and Willie, as she saw they held no hope of being chosen.

  After the class was done, to no one’s surprise, the baron asked Edward to remain.

  “If you like, I will accompany you to his parents’ house,” Mrs. Reichart said.

  “I would honored, Mrs. Reichart,” the baron said warmly.

  Chapter 36

  Things were feeling a little dead today at Jimmy’s Saloon in Ringsetter. Henry was there slurping away at his sixth beer with his buds Sam, Josh, and Chris, but it seemed the jokes were all falling flat, the music from the piano sounding dull, and the atmosphere languishing.

  Sam suddenly looked at Henry with a furtive eye, as if he had something he wished to say but wasn’t quite sure if he should. Henry caught notice of this easily enough.

  “What’s up, Sam?”

  Like a child reluctantly pulling out a toy he enjoys so much he fears sharing it with anyone, yet cannot resist seeing if others find it as heavenly as he does, Sam pulled out a small wooden box and opened it.

  “Is that some kind of ‘bacco?”

  “Naw, you breathe it in through your nose, but you don’t smoke it none.”

  “Don’t smoke it?” Henry asked, as if he had just heard someone try to convince him you traveled on a horse standing rather than sitting.

  With eyes far more furtive than they were just moments before, Sam looked around slyly from side to side, as if he were about to reveal he had just robbed the bank and was going to give precise coordinates to where he buried the loot. Satisfied no one was paying him excessive interest, he pulled out a slender wooden tube, tossed a small amount of the green material onto the table, and then sniffed it.

  He looked up, an animated glee written all over his face.

  “Woooo, doggie!” he said crazily.

  Thinking that anything would be better than the monotony of what was shaping up to be the most boring beer-drinking session of his forty-two-year-old life, Henry snatched the box rudely from his buddy Sam and then eyed it warily.

  “What’s in this ‘ere stuff?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care—it feels good!” he said with a wildness about him that would have dissuaded a prudent man from sampling the material, yet commensurately coaxed the bored Henry.

  Henry snatched the tube from Sam, who was no longer seated with his fine comrades but had gone over to where the pianist was cranking out a tune they had all heard some four thousand times and gotten bored with approximately three thousand repetitions ago, and begun dancing wildly like he heard savages did in distant lands.

  Grumpier now than ever and eager to prove just how straight-faced he would be after making the acquaintance of this strange tobacco, Henry put the tube into his nose with all the enthusiasm of a man about to accept the dare put to him by a group of young children so that he could show them how silly the whole thing really was to an adult.

  He sniffed, and then, BAM!!—it happened.

  He felt like if he could take every happy moment—no, every single detail of every happy moment—that he had had during his entire life, removed any impurities that might have existed in those rare moments, and then concentrated them into what he felt right then and there in that moment, he would maybe feel a scintilla of what he felt right now.

  “YEEEEEEEEEE-HEEEEEE!!!” he said in a chillingly high voice that caused several men in the bar to turn around and wonder whether Henry was a closet opera singer.

  “TAKE SOME, FELLAS!!” he said to his friends, who were now staring at him wide-eyed, wondering if perhaps some poison had been inserted into their drink, causing them to see strange visions.

  Henry jumped up on top of the table, paying no mind to his cowboy boots smashing a couple of bottles in the way.

  “I LIIIIKE IT!!” he shouted, in case his doltish pals weren’t getting the hint yet.

  Before his pals had partaken of the mysterious green substance, Henry snatched it from them.

  “No . . . BETTER!” he said and then deciphered his own cryptic message by pouring out a small portion of the substance for them, the way a judicious mother might for two ravenous children who otherwise might snarf down the whole of some delectable dessert if left to their own devices.

  Then, having declared himself lord protector of the green tobacco, he marched over to the blind pianist who was still belting out that tired tune. Grabbing the poor man by the back of his hair, he pulled his head backwards, stuck a tube into a nostril, extended a hand with green powder in it, and said, “Don’t ask; just sniff!!”

  The p
ianist sniffed all the contents of Henry’s palm. Satisfied at the pianist’s obedience, he then gave him a hearty slap on the back and said, “Now, let’s hear what you’ll play!!”

  The musical mind, being more inclined to express itself through the other-worldly language of music than through the more vulgar language of speech, proved itself that day to not deviate from this truism, no matter what potent seed nature casts upon the soil of that mind.

  Rogers, the pianist, was silent for a moment. Then, like the slowly opening curtains of some wondrous play that is about to divide all theatric performances into those coming before or coming after this one magical moment of artistic genius, a smile slowly parted the lips and grinned the teeth of this customarily sullen man.

  Looking down upon the piano keys that he did not need human eyes to see—for he now had the all-seeing eye of the gods—he then and there created a style of music which was to be often imitated but never truly replicated.

  What had before been a dull journey through C Major suddenly became a chariot race through Pentatonic Minor in E: da-da-da-DA!-da-da-da-DA!---DAAAA!-da-DA!-DA-DA!!-DA!!

  The piano keys began belting out some unwholesome melody that soon prompted the grumpiest from their seats. Boots shimmied across the ground. Skirts began to twirl! Glasses were raised in cheers no one would have thought imaginable moments ago in the dull place that had sounded almost like a library!

  A party began right there that Thursday evening which would soon pass into Seleganian folklore as “the moment it all began.”

  Smokeless Green had arrived! It would soon be known by many names, as are all substances man cherishes.

  Chapter 37

  “What do you think, honey?”

  “Brilliant. Is she sure it will work?”

  Janie had made a trip to Sally, a local botanist, and showed her this strange new substance that had first lifted her husband to a realm of tireless study and concentration and then dropped him like an egg from the sky to be splattered onto the rocks below into tiny pieces of miserable fatigue and depression.

  After doing several days of tests on it, she told Janie it was the most potent substance she had ever seen, and after spending an additional week or two examining it, she came up with a series of eight measuring spoons, each corresponding to an hour of the day, starting at 6 a.m. and ending at 1 p.m. Each was successively smaller than the other, corresponding to later hours of the day. She had told Sally no one should have more than one dose of this unknown substance in a given day, nor should he have any after 1 p.m.

  Righty hadn’t touched the stuff since his last encounter with it, for fear of another painful plummet into the abyss, but when he saw the measuring spoons, he realized that what he had taken last time late in the evening was around six times what the botanist recommended if taking the dose at 6 a.m. This relieved his angst about possibly using the substance again the next time he needed a little extra mental fuel.

  “That’s good to know, sweetie. I’ve got something to tell you as well.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got a new job!”

  “Really? That’s great! Where?”

  “It’s nothing to brag about. Just a clerk position at Roger’s Grocery Store. But it beats slaving away under a hot sun all day. Plus, he gave me some tests to make sure I could read, write, and do basic calculations, so I guess I’ll be using at least some of what I’ve learned.”

  Janie could tell there was something eating at him. She walked over to him, hugged him, and kissed him on the lips.

  “I’m really proud of you. Is there something else you want to tell me?”

  “Well, it pays a little less than what I was earning at the lumberyard.”

  “Look, honey; you’d made the same amount at the lumberyard for years. You were never going to move up. This is different. You’re learning new skills. You keep studying every night and building up your résumé, and, you’ll see, it will pay off. Knowledge is power, hon!”

  A knock at the door delayed further philosophical analysis of that painful reality that sometimes work fit for a beast pays more than work fit for a man.

  When Janie opened it to see Mrs. Reichart standing there—something she wouldn’t have expected in a million years—her first thought was that Eddie had gotten himself into some kind of trouble, maybe even bad trouble, or had perhaps run off (he had been acting more and more aloof lately, she had noticed). But Mrs. Reichart’s face didn’t seem stern or overly anxious—although perhaps a tinge of eagerness could be seen in her countenance upon closer inspection.

  And when Janie saw Eddie, who also didn’t seem perturbed, Janie decided she could safely rule out his having gotten into trouble. But none of this did much in the way of alleviating her confusion about the presence of an old, wizened man, well-dressed and with eyes that beamed intelligence.

  “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time . . . ,” Mrs. Reichart said politely.

  “Oh no, not at all,” Janie responded, realizing that the intent analysis she had been conducting upon the situation must have been written on her countenance.

  “Do come in,” Janie then added, smiling at everyone, so as to ensure all knew they were included in the invitation.

  Righty’s curiosity was certainly aroused, and he headed towards the trio that had just entered the home.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Simmers, we had a very special guest today at our school, and he has taken a special interest in tutoring Edward.” Continuing, she said, “He conducted a series of what I must say were rather academically challenging evaluations today and Edward did quite well. In fact, he outdid everyone in class handily, and this fine gentleman, who is about to introduce himself, is interested in turning him into an apprentice.”

  All eyes now turned upon the strange guest, waiting with great anticipation to hear his introduction.

  “Esteemed hosts, if I may paraphrase some wisdom from the great Mertehnoise, ‘Titles are the most cogent summation of a man’s achievements.’ Were it possible to belie this poignant truism, I would most gladly introduce myself without dependence upon such vanities. Alas, all efforts I have previously made have only served to reinforce the late philologist’s well-known axiom.”

  Having made this humble overture, he then proceeded to rattle off a list of titles and accomplishments that made their heads swim.

  “Well, Sir Baron Henderson, Esquire, Professor Emeritus of Antiquities,” Righty said, recounting as many as he could recall, “my wife and I shall think this over tonight.”

  “That sounds perfectly reasonable. If I will not overly impose upon you by doing so, I shall take the liberty of stopping by tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. I will need to catch the 9:30 a.m. stagecoach to the capital if I am to continue in my search because if young Edward is not going to be permitted to become my apprentice, I will need to waste no time going to the capital. I have often found that true genius is a product of the bucolic ambience, and for this reason I have traveled throughout many of the towns of this fine country searching in vain for an apprentice worthy of the privilege.

  “But, alas, although it would be bitterly ironic for me to find the one youth in all of rural Selegania capable of the academic rigors to which he will be subjected, only to have his parents negate him this opportunity, I will woefully begin to search in the capital city, whose inhabitants know not the subtle inspiration that can be found from reading a poem in the countryside or contemplating a paradox of physics whilst perched loftily at the zenith of a majestic tree. There, those hapless denizens of brick and pavement surely have at least one amongst their number whose ingenious mind has enabled him to escape the urban shackles of the imagination through careful contemplation of the transcendental works of scientists and philosophers. Yet, let all here bear witness that such was not my first preference!”

  Righty and Janie were both thoroughly stunned by the odd, though articulate, man who by his appearance could easily have been their grandfather o
r great-grandfather.

  Righty ended the silence. “We’ll be honored if you stop by tomorrow morning to hear our decision.”

  The man bowed and dismissed himself cordially. Mrs. Reichart stayed behind and talked incessantly about how convinced she was the man was no vile impostor, and she was careful to point out that all of his letters of introduction were in Ridervarian, and to explain in full detail to Mr. and Mrs. Simmers what Ridervarian was. She overlooked mentioning that she could not read Ridervarian in the slightest.

  After the necessary thank-yous from Mr. and Mrs. Simmers for her kind visit, she bid adieu, and Righty and Janie were left to contemplate the situation.

  Janie, bracing for Righty to offer some objection, while hoping herself that he would not do so, waited for him to speak.

  Righty, bracing for Janie to offer some objection, while hoping he could use his burgeoning powers of persuasion to convince her, took the lead.

  “Janie, I know this is going to sound a bit crazy. But I think this is a sign. I received so shortly ago what may have just been some random impulse to turn my life around and stop being such a dirtbag, but I sunk my teeth into that impulse and am trying to hang onto it for as far as it will take me. For as far as it will take us. I felt like the world was snatched from my fingertips when the debacle with Oscar Peters happened and spent more than a decade in mourning over it. Perhaps that’s what happens when you have a special gift. You count on it, and it alone, to sail you through life. And if that one gift is lost, you’re lost. I never thought I needed to learn how to do anything in the world but box because that was my ticket to fame and glory. It got snatched from me, and my soul went with it.