AT THE OFFICES, the clapping man’s partner sits behind a desk with arms folded, face silent and stony as the funny man demonstrates his “thing.” Despite the assurances of his deceased partner, he appears skeptical when it comes to the funny man’s charms. His look says, “I’ve seen your kind before.”
The funny man rolls his head around his shoulders and blows out his cheeks and shakes out his arms before pausing and saying, “Jimmy Cagney with his hand all the way inside his mouth.” He has decided to dispense with any patter. The “thing” is the “thing” and he doesn’t want anything clouding this fact.
The funny man turns his back, puts a trench coat on, turns up the collar and shoves his hand all the way inside his mouth. The funny man turns back around and says, “You dirty rat,” only it sounds like, “Whooar arghl whab,” because his hand is shoved all the way inside his mouth. The clapping man’s partner does nothing. Face stony, arms still folded.
The funny man removes his hand, says, “John Wayne with his hand all the way inside his mouth,” then quickly turns his back again, takes off the trench coat, puts on a cowboy hat and toy sixgun shooters around his waist and shoves his hand all the way back inside his mouth. He returns to face the clapping man’s partner.
“Whalks whake wah gok inunh grhuble,” (Looks like we got injun trouble) the funny man says with his hand all the way inside his mouth while swaggering at the hips and using the barrel of one of the six-guns to tilt his cowboy hat slightly upward.
The funny man again removes his hand and says, “Richard Nixon with his hand all the way inside his mouth,” turns back around, takes the cowboy hat and six-shooters off, puts on a suit coat and presses play on a small cassette player. The sound of helicopter blades cutting the air fills the room. The funny man faces the clapping man’s partner again, ducks his head into his shoulders, furrows his brow, and makes the peace sign with the hand that is not shoved inside his mouth.
“Foy hant tont uh crulkh,” (I am not a crook), he says. The clapping man’s partner’s face breaks. He chuckles. His folded arms bounce on his chest. The funny man remains standing in his Nixon costume.
“Whool ownt ave ixon oo ick rowned nymoor,” (You won’t have Nixon to kick around anymore).
The clapping man’s partner laughs out loud. “Ha!” he says. “Ha!”
The funny man does John F. Kennedy (“Fsk ot aht oour untree an oo or oo, fsk aht oo an oo or ouyor untree”), John Lennon (“Ive eece a hance”), and Norma Desmond (“Eyein eddie or eye ohsut,”) and with each one, the clapping man’s partner laughs a little louder.
Finally, the funny man takes his hand from his mouth and holds a single finger up, asking for silence.
Something big is coming.
The funny man turns his back and puts on a frilly shirt and pirate hat. The funny man faces the clapping man’s partner briefly, says, “Captain Hook with his hand all the way in his mouth.” The funny man pauses and slyly arches his brow beneath the pirate hat before turning away again. He places a (fake) metal hook on one hand and a small blood packet between cheek and gum and turns to face the clapping man’s partner. The funny man jams the hook into his mouth and screams, “Motherfucker!” Fake blood sprays over the desk at the clapping man’s partner, who in turn opens one of the desk drawers and withdraws a sheet of paper and a small stack of money.
“This is two thousand dollars,” he says. He wipes a mirthful tear from his eye. “And this is your contract. For television, we’ll kill the foul language, but the kids’ll love it. They want everyone working blue these days.”
The funny man nods, signs the sheet of paper, and takes the money. The two shake hands.
“I am now your agent,” the agent says.
THE FUNNY MAN sits in the kitchen, bouncing the child on his knee when the wife comes home. When he’s bounced, the flesh on the child’s cheeks jiggles in a funny way that the funny man enjoys, so they do this often. When he proposed to his wife, not long after she revealed her pregnancy and only minutes after she had deposited her breakfast in the toilet, the funny man had gotten on one knee and presented the small diamond, purchased on a 100 percent installment plan and said, “It may not be easy, but I promise it will always be fun.” He has held up the bargain thus far and he has something very exciting and he thinks fun planned for her.
“Honey, could you get me some cornflakes?” the funny man says. He smiles and nods toward the cupboard. He turns the child to face toward his wife so there’s an audience of two. She looks at the funny man like he might actually be the extremely stupid person he is acting like.
“Could you get yourself royally fucked?” she says.
“But I’d really like some cornflakes. Maybe you would too,” he says. He wiggles his eyebrows at her Groucho-style. This is going better than the funny man could have hoped. The setup and reversal are really well constructed. He has learned quite a bit performing for those drunks in those clubs.
The wife storms to the cupboard, grabs the cereal and two bowls, slams them down to the table and pours. Five one-hundred dollar bills fall out. She holds her hand over her mouth like she’s received a great surprise. He knows it is not about the money, that the money itself doesn’t matter (though it is a great help). It is about the fulfilling of the compact they made with their partnership. He has come through for them.
“You might also want to check the diaper pail,” the funny man says. “I think it needs emptying.” The wife runs to the bedroom and sprints back, fanning five hundred more dollars in her hand. She starts to smile.
“I think something fell behind the toilet,” the funny man says. The wife leaves and returns again, holding the jewelry box open. The small, diamond earrings sparkle from inside. Her hands shake so hard she cannot place them successfully in her ears. The funny man takes them from her and carefully removes the hoops that occupy the spot where the diamonds belong.
“Did you rob a bank?” she says.
“I did not. But I would if you wanted me to.” The funny man leans in closely as he pulls the final earring free. He kisses her on the lobe and can feel her shudder.
“It’s like some kind of movie,” she says.
“Hang up your apron, Rosie, your hash-slinging days are over,” the funny man says.
“You know my name’s not Rosie.”
The funny man carefully places the diamonds in his wife’s ears and watches them sparkle. “Whatever,” he says.