2
TO DIE LAUGHING
Meat’s expression went from concern to fury in one second. “That is not funny,” he sputtered. “That is really not funny.”
“Oh, come on, admit it. It was a little bit funny.”
“Maybe to you. To me, jokes like that are sick!”
“Don’t be mad at me.”
“I am. I can’t help it. I was having this wonderful day—and I don’t have them that often—and you spoil it with a sick joke about finding a body.”
“Come on it. I’ll make you popcorn. Will you forgive me for popcorn?”
Meat hesitated. “‘No,” he decided. “I’m getting ready to begin a new life tonight—”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Herculeah pulled a small camera from her pocket. “Smile!”
Meat’s frown deepened.
Click.
“Why did you do that? You know I hate to have my picture taken. You’re deliberately trying to irritate me—and you’re succeeding!”
“Meat, listen,” she said, her tone softening. “I bought this camera at Hidden Treasures. I don’t know why I even went in there. I only had one dollar, and nothing in there costs one dollar.”
Meat waited.
“I was drawn to the ”As Is“ table—all items as is. There was something about this table that bothered me. Some of the things were familiar, but ... but I don’t know from where. Anyway, as soon as my hand touched the camera, my hair began to frizz.”
“But why would you pick up something that could put you in danger?”
“A camera? A camera’s dangerous? Be real. Anyway,” she paused to advance the film, “there was a roll of film in the camera and five exposures left. I want to finish the roll. Smile!”
Click.
“I’m going back to my house if you don’t put that camera away.”
Herculeah took his arm. “Did you say something about starting a new life?”
“Yes, but you don’t want to hear about it.”
“I do.”
“You’d rather play stupid tricks on people and take pictures.”
“Come on, Meat. Popcorn ... think popcorn.”
She drew him into her house, then her kitchen. “Sit,” she said, pointing to a chair by the table. Meat sat. Herculeah put popcorn in the microwave, punched in four minutes, and sat across from Meat.
“You have my complete attention,” she said. “Tell me about your new life.”
Meat wished now that they were back outside. Her eyes were too gray, too piercing. He felt she could see through to his brain.
“Well, you’ve heard about Funny Bonz?” he began.
“The comedy club? On the corner of Wright and Peachtree?”
“It used to be there. It’s moved. It’s right up the street now, in the basement of the old hotel.”
“I just passed the hotel. I didn’t notice any signs.”
“Maybe you were too busy looking for dead squirrels. Anyway, they just opened. The club’s under new management—a guy named Mike Howard.”
“Actually, I’m not that interested in comedy, Meat. I’m not a very funny person.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Meat said generously.
“I come pretty close though, don’t I?” She grinned at him.
The silence that followed was broken by the sound of popping corn. Meat’s mouth began to water. Herculeah said, “And you’re going to the club?”
“Better than that—much better. I’m going to be on the stage of the club! I’m going to perform! I’m going to be a stand-up comic!”
“Meat, you can’t.” She stared at him in amazement. “You’re not any funnier than I am.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He was obviously offended. “Just because I don’t run around playing stupid April Fool jokes on people.”
“Meat,” she interrupted. “Sometimes you are funny, but it just pops out. It’s not planned—like when you were little you wanted someone to write books about the Unhardy Boys.”
“I didn’t mean that to be funny.” Now he was really offended.
“Meat, start over. Please.”
“All right. Well, there was this article in the newspaper about the club. It was about how taking lessons in comedy can help people accept themselves. Being funny about yourself is therapeutic.”
“I never felt I needed therapy. I do accept myself.”
“Well, I don’t exactly need therapy either.”
The conversation was going downhill from an already low beginning. Fortunately the popcorn was ready, and Meat took a handful.
“You take lessons ...” Herculeah prompted.
Meat nodded, chewing.
“So there’s a class,” she went on.
“Yes,” he admitted, “there’s a class.”
“How many students?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been there yet. You know, I was all excited about this until you started picking at it. There’s even a graduation night when everyone performs. I was going to invite you, but ...”
“Meat, I have to come!”
He took another handful of popcorn. “No, you’ll laugh.”
“Meat, that’s what I’m supposed to do—laugh!”
“Well, maybe you can come. All we have to do for tonight—it’s like an assignment—is make up a joke about ourselves.”
“What’s yours?”
Meat said, “I don’t know. I’d like to do something about not having a father.”
“But that’s not funny, Meat.”
“I know that! But if I could turn it into something funny, well, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.”
Meat went over the possibilities of all the highlights of his life that his dad missed out on—like what? Like getting an A in spelling in Miss Richard’s room?
He paused. What really hurt was that his dad had hardly missed out on anything.
“If that fails, there’s always my size,” he said glumly. The many possible jokes about that were not appealing. He went over a few to himself.
I’m so big that when I’m around the house, I’m a-r-o-u-n-d the house.
I’m so big I have my own area code.
When I put on my blue suit and stand on a corner, people try to drop mail in my mouth.
He had gotten these from a book of fat jokes at the newsstand. He had spent so long leafing through the book, reading the insults without smiling, that the clerk had come over and asked him if he wanted to buy it.
“This? No, this is a terrible book.” He had returned it at once to the humor shelf where, in his opinion, it definitely did not belong.
Well, he might have to stop by and refresh his memory if he decided to go that way. Ah, yes, the jokes were coming back to him. Meat had good recall, especially of things he did not want to recall.
When I was lying on the beach, Greenpeace tried to push me back into the water.
He broke off his thoughts and turned to Herculeah. “Well, whatever I do, nobody will die laughing.”
Later, that was the remark that Herculeah was to remember.
A remark that would cause her hair to frizzle every-time she heard it.
“Nobody will die laughing.”