Tickle Box

by BobA. Troutt

  *****

  Tickle Box

  The Crow’s Nest

  A heavy, thick fog hung over the countryside, as J.W., the hobo crow, flew from one cornfield to the other. This has got to be the thickest fog I have ever seen, he said to himself as he darted back and forth across the sky. All of a sudden a loud boom, bang, boom, flip, flop and a cry was heard.

  “Oh, me!” he moaned.

  J.W. stood dazed and confused in front of a big pole. With one hand he gently rubbed the knot on his head that popped up after he hit the pole. He took his other hand and leaned against the pole as he curiously looked about.

  “What a place to put a light pole,” he mumbled.

  “They’re only a few feet apart around here,” said a voice from the fog.

  J.W. quickly looked around so see where the voice came from. He was startled when he saw Big Dave, the crow.

  “What about it?” asked J.W.

  “What about what?” replied Big Dave.

  “What is it, my man?” laughed J.W.

  “What is what?” Dave answered.

  “You know, man. Like, what’s going on? Where is everybody? Like, where do they hang out?”

  “Oh, I catch your drift, dude,” replied Big Dave. “You’re asking where everybody does their thing.”

  “Yeah, man,” laughed J.W. “You know like, what’s happening.”

  “Well, brother, welcome to the corner of Happy Hollow Road and Winding Way,” replied Big Dave. “This is where it’s at.”

  “I can dig it,” giggled J.W. as he slowly looked around. “Is this all of it, brother?” he asked. “A pole with a sign on it is where it’s at?”

  Then Big Dave pointed up toward the sky.

  “There it is, bro., over yonder in the middle of the cornfield stands a great sycamore. At the top of that sycamore is the Crow’s Nest, a hangout for all the crows.”

  J.W. looked up through the thick fog to see if he could see the Crow’s Nest. Slowly, the fog started moving out and J.W. was able to see a glimmer of light.

  “Yeah, man, I can see it now. Like, I know where you’re coming from,” cried J.W. as he flapped his wings and took off.

  “I like your shoes!” yelled Big Dave after J.W. flew away.

  Up, up, up, he flew toward the glimmer of light. Finally, as he grew closer to the light, the clubhouse became visible within the dense fog. He could hear music playing as he got closer and closer to the clubhouse.

  “Wow,” cried J.W. “Get down! Get down!”

  Carefully, he landed at the door. He stood outside on the porch and shook himself loose to get all his feathers in place. He spit on the top of his wing and pushed the feathers over the knot on his head so they would lie down. He shuffled his feet, wiped his new kicks off with the back of his leg and peeped inside.

  “Wow,” he said. “This is it, my man. This is what’s happening.”

  As his eyes searched the room, he saw crows throwing darts, playing ping pong, checkers, marbles, chess and air hockey. Others were laying around listening to the giant boom box. They were all drinking sodas and munching on popcorn, candy, cookies and candy corn.

  “This is it,” cried J.W. “This is where it’s happening. “What it is!” J.W. shouted when he burst through the door.

  A hush quickly fell across the room as everyone stopped and stared at him. J.W. took a deep breath and smiled. Over in the back corner, two tiny, beady eyes peeped over a hand of old maid cards. The eyes sized J.W. up and down before fixated on his brand new kicks. The two beady eyes vanished behind the cards and then suddenly reappeared with a long face and a smile from ear to ear.

  “Why, hello, my man,” came a crackly old voice from behind the table.

  The stranger rose to his feet, walked toward J.W. and snapped his wings. The party was back on.

  “Blackie is my name,” he said. “I’m the old crow around here. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  “J.W., sir,” he replied.

  “You’re not from around here are you?” asked Blackie as he bent over for a closer look at J.W.’s kicks.

  “No, sir,” answered J.W. “I’m from a little bit of everywhere.”

  “So you are,” said Blackie. “So you are. Got something good in your bag,” inquired Blackie.

  “Oh, just a few things,” replied J.W.

  “Welcome, my main man. J.W., come on in and have some fun,” laughed Blackie. “Make yourself at home.”

  As J.W. moved about the room having fun, Blackie could not keep his eyes off J.W.’s kicks. I have to get those shoes, he thought to himself. But, how can I get them? He thought and thought with all his might. I just couldn’t take them, he said to himself. However, I can win them. Blackie slowly walked over to J.W. and poked him on the shoulder.

  “Gee, Blackie, this is awesome,” J.W. said. “It’s the greatest, my man,” he said as he gave Blackie a high five.

  “J.W., would you be interested in playing a game?” asked Blackie.

  “Yeah, man,” replied J.W. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, J.W., I was thinking of something along the lines of a contest,” said Blackie, “between you and me.”

  “Cool!” replied J.W. “Like, man, what kind of contest do you have in mind?”

  “Well, a few fun games,” replied Blackie. “The winner will get a prize.”

  “Like, what kind of prize?” asked J.W.

  “Well, I was thinking along these lines. If I win, I get your new kicks. And if you win,” said Blackie, “I will give you my great-great-grandfather’s old corncob pipe that I wouldn’t take anything for.”

  “Let me see it,” said J.W.

  “Sure,” replied Blackie as he reached in his pocket and pulled out an old pipe.

  Blackie quickly flashed it before J.W.’s eyes. But, Blackie was not as quick as he thought he was because J.W. saw made in Japan written on the side of the pipe. It only took J.W. a few minutes to make up his mind.

  “You got it, my man, my kicks and your great-great-grandfather’s corncob pipe!” yelled J.W.

  “Now what games will the contest consist of?” mumbled Blackie as he placed the tip of his wing on the side of his face and thought. “Here’s what we’ll do,” stated Blackie. “The first one to score ten points will be the winner. We’ll play marbles for one point, checkers for two points, bubble gum blowing for two points, darts for one point, karaoke for one to ten points and a dance contest for one to ten points. The karaoke and dance contests will be scored by the crowd.”

  “You got it, my main man,” said J.W. “Let’s get down to business.”

  The games began and the other crows gathered around. The first game was marbles and it was a close game. The game quickly moved on and the crowd watched in amazement. Every time Blackie thought J.W. wasn’t looking, he would cheat. But, J.W. wasn’t fooled; he saw Blackie out of the corner of his eye. Blackie won the game of marbles. The score was Blackie one, J.W. zero.

  The tension spread throughout the clubhouse. The crowd held their breath around the checkers’ table; they were afraid to move. Blackie made the first jump, then J.W. It was a close game until Blackie dropped a checker on the floor. When J.W. bent down to pick up the checker, Blackie slipped a couple of his checkers back onto the board which caused him to win. J.W. kept his eye on him; he knew what was happening. The score was now Blackie three, J.W. zero.

  Quickly, Blackie reached into his pocket and pulled out some bubble gum. He gave J.W. one piece and tossed three pieces into his mouth. The crowd watched on and looked at each other as the bubbles grew bigger and bigger. Blackie peeped out of the corner of his eye and saw J.W.’s bubble was bigger than his. He knew J.W. would win so he reached into his pocket, pulled out a pin and stuck it under J.W.’s bubble; pop went the bubble. The crowd sighed because J.W. was defeated once again. Nevertheless, J.W. was not giving up that easily. The score was now Blackie five, J.W. ze
ro.

  Next was the dart throwing contest. To make it more challenging J.W. and Blackie wore blindfolds. J.W. stepped up first. He steadily aimed, threw and missed. He aimed again and still missed. Blackie stepped up, carefully aimed and threw.

  “Bull’s-eye,” the crowd yelled.

  He aimed again and hit another bull’s-eye. Unfortunately for J.W., no one saw Blackie peeping out from under his blindfold. The score was Blackie six, J.W. zero.

  “It doesn’t seem to be your day, J.W.,” said Blackie as he laughed.

  J.W. stopped, stood still, looked at him and said, “It’s not over with yet, my man.”

  Next, the crowd formed a circle around the room for the final two contests. Blackie took center stage first and tested the microphone.

  “Testing one, two, three, testing,” he said. “Can you hear me in the back?”

  The karaoke music started playing as Blackie prepared to sing. His voice was old, crackly and squeaky; it hurt everyone’s ears. While he sang, they placed their wings over their ears. Blackie received one point from the crowd. Next, J.W. took the microphone and wow he could sing. The crowd clapped, yelled and cheered him on.

  “Sing it, brother. Sing it!” yelled one from the crowd.

  The crowd gave J.W. seven points. Blackie stood in the back gritting his beak and mumbled to himself, I want them new kicks he’s wearing.

  At last, the final contest. Who would be the overall winner? Suddenly, they cranked up the big boom box; it jarred every window in the Crow’s Nest. They turned down the lights and a burst of rainbow-colored lights swirled about the room as Blackie slid across the dance floor.

  “Ooh,” sighed the crowd. “What on earth is he doing?”

  Blackie’s bones popped and snapped. His legs bowed as he jumped around the room. The crowd watched; they didn’t know what to say. Boo’s came from everyone in the crowd. Blackie came to a sudden stop, twirled and walked away disappointed.

  “We want J.W.! We want J.W.!” cried the crowd.

  The boom box, once again, jarred the windows as J.W. took the dance floor.

  “That’s it. That’s it, my man,” cried one from the crowd.

  “Get down, brother, get down,” cried another.

  The music roared and J.W. was limber as a wash rag.

  “Ooh!” went the crowd.

  “Look at that bird getting down,” they cried.

  There was no question who had won the contest. Everyone gathered around J.W. and congratulated him. They shook his wing and patted him on the back. Blackie stood in the distance with a long face and tiny, beady eyes. His heart was cold and sad; it was broken because he had not won J.W.’s new kicks. Slowly, he eased his way over to J.W. and congratulated him.

  “Good job, sport,” he said.

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out the pipe and started to hand it to J.W. But, J.W. stopped him.

  “There’s no need to, Blackie. You can keep the pipe. It means a lot to you since it was your great-great grandfather’s.”

  J.W. reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of brand new kicks. They were exactly like the ones he had on.

  “Here, Blackie,” said J.W., “you can have these.”

  Blackie’s mouth flew wide open and a hush fell across the room.

  “For real, J.W.,” said Blackie.

  “For real,” replied J.W.

  Blackie’s frown immediately became a smile and his eyes sparkled as he held the kicks close to his heart.

  “It’s time for me to fly the coop,” J.W. said on his way out the door.

  “There goes a real cool dude,” Blackie said as he smiled from ear to ear.