“Edgar Bergen. Charlie McCarthy. Mortimer Snerd! I haven’t seen you boys in forever. How long has it been?”

“How long has it been since you opened this old trunk, you big dummy?” Charlie quipped.

“Since he left the circus, no doubt,” Edgar added.

“Hyuck, hyuck. When he was a clown,” Mortimer noted.

“Well, he was a better clown than he was a ventriliquist,” Charlie said.

“That goes without saying,” Edgar agreed.

“Well, nobody was as good as you Edgar,” Mortimer fawned.

“Well, thank you Mortimer.”

“As long as you didn’t care if his mouth moved,” chided Charlie.

“Hey! I resemble that remark.”

“Oh Edgar. You always did have thin skin.”

“Thin skin? Him? You were always the one with thin skin, you big dummy. Those kids laughed at you when you rode your unicycle and juggled. And you cried. But they were supposed to laugh at you. You were a clown, for Pete’s sake. And when you brought us into your act, everybody thought we were the dummies, but it was always you.” Charlie was as blunt as ever.

“I suppose.”

“Hyuck. You shoulda juggled the three of us instead of trying to throw your voice.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t that have been a treat. We coulda upchucked on you while you were doing it. Of course, it woulda been sawdust and wood chips.”

Edgar jumped in. “Hey now. Don’t be so tough on the kid. He was our meal ticket you know.”

“Meal ticket! Hah! He barely made enough to eat his own food. And he stuffed us with the leftover straw and sawdust from the ground. Who knows what it had in it.”

“Hyuck hyuck. That’s why I smell so bad. Elephant…”

“No. You smell so bad because that big dummy stuck us in that trunk so long,” Charlie said.

“Well, boys. It’s been fun. Although, I’m not sure I’ve heard Charlie in such fine form as today.”

Footsteps echoed in the attic.

“Hey, Dad. Whatcha doin’?”

The retired clown turned to face his boy. “Hi son.” He turned back to his old trunk where his son was gazing. “Just taking a trip down memory lane.”

The boy stepped forward and looked into the old trunk. “Whoa! You were a ventriliquist? That is so cool.”

“Not so cool when you watched his mouth move,” Charlie said.

“Wow! They move without you doing anything.”

The retired clown opened his hand, and showed his son the mechanism he had pulled out when he first opened the trunk. It had three sets of controls. “See, I can move their mouths with these buttons, their heads with these, their eyes with these, and so on and so on.”

The boy’s eyes went wide. “Can I try?”

The retired clown handed the mechanism to his son. “Be careful. You never know what they’re gonna say.”

The boy pressed the mouth button for Charlie.

“You can say that again.”

For Mortimer.

“You can say that again. Hyuck. Hyuck.”

For Edgar.

“Sigh. I was the puppet master way back when.”

“This is so cool.”

“Well, you’ve got your kid fooled, you big dummy”, Charlie said.

“He’s definitely not like your normal audience,” Edgar agreed.

“Hyuck. Hyuck. You got me fooled too. I always thought you were great. Hyuck.”

“Thank you Mortimer. You were always so kind.”

“Suck up is more like it.”

The retired clown sighed. “I think it’s time to say goodbye now fellas.”

“Hyuck. Goodbye now fellas.”

“Nooooo!”

“Sorry Charlie. Goodbye Edgar. Goodbye Mortimer.”

“I hope that it won’t be another decade or more before we see you again.”

“We’ll see, Edgar. We’ll see.”

The retired clown took the batteries out of the mechanism, put the mechanism into the trunk with the dummies, then closed the lid. He and his son walked toward the attic stairs. His son looked back.

“Do you hear that?”

The retired clown sighed. “Yeah. They always kick and scream when I put them away.”

I am an awfully good poet And I think that the whole world should know it All the poems you need Have been written by me Who said that Shakespeare was a poet

[I wrote the above decades ago I hope that you did love it so This new one in brackets Wasn’t stored in my attic Oh how I do love limericks so.]

(And I thought I should say by the way I’m not as proud as all that if I may It just popped in my mind As a curious find I’m surprised I remember it today.)

{By the way if you think I am awful That my limericks should all be unlawful It’s okay, I don’t mind You need not be kind Your comments to me can be awful.}

<Using the different brackets has been fun I could not stop using them at one I just wanted a note So the first brackets I wrote Now that I have used them all, I am done.>

“You know, she really likes you.”

“Of course she does. We’re best friends.”

“No, dude. She likes likes you. You know…” Tim nudged his friend. “…she wants you to be her boyfriend.”

“As if.” Simon laughed.

Madison was walking by, but had not seen her two friends.

“Hey Madi!”

Madison turned to face the boys. She smiled as she approached.

Simon nudged Tim as he said, “This bonehead thinks that you like me. As in like like. Can you believe that?”

Madison turned bright red. She glared at Tim. Then she turned to Simon with a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned to Tim again and shot him a look.

Tim thought, “If looks could kill…” He turned to Simon. “Okay. So if Madi say turned red or made puppy dog eyes whenever you were around, you wouldn’t think anything of that.” He glanced at Madison, who was now red with rage instead of embarrassment. He snickered and was glad that he was far enough away that she could not kick his shins.

Simon smiled. “Nah. Look, she’s red now, but she looks like she’d rather strangle you than do anything with me.”

Tim chuckled. “Well, that’s definitely true. And so observant. But you know, you’re the only one in the whole wide world who calls her Madi. She corrects everybody else and says, ‘It’s Madison.’”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean…”

“And she’s the only one who calls you Sye. You have little pet names for each other.”

Simon looked like he might be starting to see the light. He said, “Hey, that’s right. Nobody calls me Sye but you, and nobody calls you Madi but me.” He looked right at Madison. “Does that mean you like like me?”

Madison looked at Tim. He could see that her red, mad look was gone. Her eyes were wide. She looked like a trapped animal looking for an escape. Tim provided one. He looked at his friend. “Nah. You got it right the first time. Madison’s just your best friend.” He nudged his friend and winked. “If it turns into more, she’ll make sure to let you know. Unless you let her know first. You know. If it turns into more for you.” He winked again.

Madison let out a deep breath. Simon smiled.

Simon looked at Madison. He seemed to be studying her. Tim noticed that she was turning red again. Just a little. Simon finally said, “I will definitely let you know. But you gotta let me know if you like like me first.”

Madison just nodded her head.

Simon looked at his watch. “Oh shoot. I gotta go. See ya.” He turned and left without looking back.

Madison hit Tim hard on his shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You know exactly what that was for.”

Tim smiled. “No. I told you. He doesn’t have a clue that you like him. Even though the signs are right in front of him.”

“So you decided to tell him. You told him that I liked him even though I told you not to.”

Tim laughed. “Of course I did. I told you he would only believe it if it came from your mouth. After all, he might be both our best friend, but he is still oblivious. He is after all, just simple Simon.”

Fall down, get up, fall down, get up It’s so cold and wet here on the ice Get up, fall down, get up, fall down Staying down could be so nice.

For whenever I come to the rink Ten-thousand times I fall And every time I do get up Although the ice to me does call.

“Stay down,” it says. “No, don’t get up.” “I’ll take care of you this day.” “Just stay here in your warm parka.” “You’ll never have to go away.”

But I resist the urge to stay Curled up tight upon the ice For quitting this or anything Would be too steep a price.

For whether it be ice skating Or learning to drive a car Quitting this or anything Means I can never go too far.

For Daddy always said to me, “Son, do not ever ever quit.” And Mama echoed his sentiment, “You’ll end up regretting it.”

And so I strap up my ice skates And fall and fall once more Until I can skate around the rink Faster than I ever could before.

I do the same with everything That I decide is worthwhile The things that take time and effort That take going the extra mile.

So I say to you my friend Strap on your pair of skates Fall down, get up, fall down, get up Success for you awaits.

“My leftover pizza!”

Joey stood frozen mid-bite at the kitchen counter. It was as if he thought standing still would make his roommate forget him. Better yet, he thought it might make him invisible. But Joey knew that Ralph saw him, the now empty pizza box that he was using as a plate, and, of course, the last piece of pizza dangling from his mouth. He met Ralph’s gaze, even though he did not want to. He took the pizza slice from his mouth and offered it to his friend. It was no worse for wear, except that it had teeth marks in it.

“Uh. You can have the last piece.”

“You took a bite out of it!”

Joey stammered, “Well… I… Uh… No. Technically, the bite is still there. There are teeth marks though.” He smiled. Or at least he tried to.

“You knew I was saving that for lunch. And it was half a pizza!”

Joey hung his head. He looked at Ralph’s feet, and shuffled his own. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.” He looked up. And smiled. “But I can make it up to you. C’mon. We can go get pizza now.”

“Right. Lunch hour rush. Our favorite pizza place. I’m driving. And probably paying too.”

Joey smiled. “Perfect. I’ll get my coat.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“And…”

Ralph sighed. “I’ll get my coat.”

“Don’t forget your keys. And you wallet.”

Joey ate the last slice of pizza on the way out the door.

Is it? Is it civilization? Finally? I have been wandering in this desert for what seems like forever. And there it is. A phone booth! And lights beyond. A city? Oh joy. I might finally be done with this nightmare. Finally, I can have water. And maybe a little food. How long has it been? Five days? Six? A month? I just don’t know. I have seen mirages and had hallucinations. I do not even know whether the phone booth is real. But it has not disappeared yet. Just a couple more steps.

The walls seem solid enough. The phone seems real. But alas. No dial tone. And I don’t have a quarter anyway.

I lean back against the wall. Drat! No wall. I wake up from a falling dream. I’m still where I was last time I thought I moved. Still lying on the sand. Still in this miserable desert. Alone.

Grandma always told me, great stories from her past Of how she had to struggle, to make the produce last Of how she relied on her children, to take care of each other Of how one of my aunties, was like a second mother Of how she suffered prejudice, because of the browness of her skin Of how she converted Grandpa, and got the blame again Of how she suffered through it, with the help of neighbors and friends Of how she did not know, if she could do it all again Of how she raised her children, to be stalwarts of their communities Of how she did the best she could, to ensure they'd have unity Of how she fished with Grandpa, and with him farmed the land Of how she met the needs, of everyone's demand Yes, Grandma told me stories, I wish I wrote them all As it is, I have recollections, and tidbits I can recall.

I am so glad that nobody recognizes me. I’m just a regular guy now. Just walking down the street is a pleasure now that nobody recognizes me. Nobody recognizes me. “Nobody recognizes me! Hallelujah!”

I look around me. A couple people stop to stare at me. But the rest go on as if nothing happened. Boy… I cannot believe I said that out loud. But it is so amazing. Nobody recognizes me.

Then again, it wasn’t really me they all recognized anyway, was it. It was my father. We would walk down the street and people would stare. A couple of people even spit on him. On me too! And I never did anything to deserve that. Just being my father’s son. That was enough to earn their ire. And it was enough for them to believe that I earned their hatred too.

I remember the papers, ha, newspapers, I remember them. And then the internet always commenting on my father. On what he had done. And they thought I was cut from the same cloth. Even though I was only a child. I had no idea what my father had done. I had barely been born when he was on trial. A mere babe when he went to prison.

I had no idea that he had bilked people out of millions of dollars. Not millionaires or billionaires. Not people who others thought could afford it. My father had cheated regular people out of their life savings.

Oh sure. He had paid his debt to society. He had spent all of my formative years in prison. Out of the spotlight. But when he and I walked down the sidewalk together after he got out, it was as if he was still cheating. Cheating not just those he cheated before, but everybody on the street. And it was like I was cheating them too.

That was years ago, but I still remember those feelings. I remember being humiliated by the stares and the jeers. Yes, and even the spit. I remember it finally dissipating as I grew older. And after we had moved from where I was raised.

It’s funny though. If I was going to place blame on anybody for the way I am now, I would blame all those people who jeered and stared and spit on us. I would blame their unforgiving hearts on who I have become. But I smile as I think about the truth. I smile because I know how to do what my father did much better than he ever did. And I can do it without anybody knowing who I am.

I am so glad nobody recognizes me.

Whispers that come in the night Often carry further than those whispered in the day.

Is there some deep dark secret? Is there some nefarious plot? What is this dark dread? Why can I shake it not? Is it imagination Making my fears come awake? Why do those whispers at night Make my whole body shake?

Shadows cast in the night Often scare more deeply than those cast in the day.

The clouds cover the stars The clouds cover the moon But the shadows of night I wish would leave soon For they cover the movements Of the creatures of night They hide all the demons That give me such a fright.

But the sun gives its light Often exposing the whispers and dispersing the shadows.

I long for the sun To shed its bright light To give truth to the whispers To chase the creatures of night To take all the dread To bring hope for the day “Goodbye whispers, goodbye shadows.” Is what I hear the sun say.

"Argh! I blundered my queen!"

"It's just a game."

"Just a game! Chess is the game of kings!"

"Seems like a game of queens to me. You know. Queens are so powerful and all."

"Right."

"Well, now that you lost one, you wanna head out for a real bite to eat or something?"

"Huh? No. But if you wanna play, I can teach you. That way you can participate instead of just watching."

"Thanks. But I don't think chess is my game. I didn't really know that this was a chess hangout."

"Right... You had to have. You musta seen the logo, a chess knight and queen. It matches the name plus the slogan says it all. 'Knights and Queens Bistro. Food, drinks, and chess. All day, all night.'"

"Yeah. Well, I just thought..."

"You just thought you could waltz in here and find a nice smart girl who you could sweep off her feet and take somewhere else for drinks or clubbing. You thought your knightly charm and good looks would win the night, and away you'd walk with the new queen of your heart."

"I... I... I..."

"Look. I'm not just a pretty face or just a smart girl. I've got a high IQ, a high Elo rating (that's a chess rating system, if you didn't know), and I do not fall for just any Sir Galahad. And tonight, while I appreciate the hors d'oeuvres and the sodas, I am here for the chess. I rarely lose to this poser..."

"Hey! I resemble that remark," smiled the Poser.

"...and I am not about to quit after losing that pitiful game."

"She really is all that she says she is. We're not together, because she's way out of my league. Mentally, chess-ly, and obviously physically. So you don't stand a chance friend." The Poser looked over at the would-be Sir Galahad sitting there with his mouth wide open. "Especially, since you're a mouth-breather."

The would-be Sir Galahad closed his open mouth, stood, and turned toward the counter. He paid his tab and walked out without looking back.

"You know, that was just mean." The Poser paused from setting up the board to look at his friend. "But I suppose you had it all planned out seven moves in advance when he came over to the table and asked if he could watch."

The Chess Queen smiled. "Eight. Eight moves in advance."

They both laughed.