PREPARATIONS FOR THE FOURTH of July celebration on the square were going as planned. Mr. Price was instructing the photographer about where to stand to capture the best moments during his speech. He even made a copy of his speech for the photographer and underlined each sentence that was expected to generate an enthusiastic response from the audience. “I’m expecting a big crowd,” he said, “and I want some pictures of the audience with smiles on their faces and looking patriotic. Have you got any of those wide lenses?”
“Yes, sir,” said the photographer.
“Good. Because I’d like a shot of me, right up there at the stage, along with all of my supporters. Like I said, I am expecting a big crowd. All the businessmen in the chamber and their families, and probably a lot more.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you do patriotic?” said Mr. Price.
“Will there be flags?” asked the photographer.
“Of course,” answered Mr. Price.
“Then I can do patriotic.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” Mr. Price looked around the square. “Now, where did I put those flags?”
Mrs. Price, meanwhile, was by his side listening and nodding at the appropriate times and occasionally looking over her shoulder to see how Leroy and Marty were getting along with the banner that was to go across the stage. IN HONOR OF OUR NATION’S BIRTHDAY! VOTE PRICE FOR MAYOR!
Leroy and Marty were getting along about as well as a honey badger and springhare stuffed in a paper sack. The banner was lying at their feet while they acted out the Fight of the Century between Mickey Mouse’s Mechanical Man robot and the rabid gorilla called The Kongo Killer. Not surprisingly, Leroy was Kongo Killer, and he was giving Marty a serious beating.
“Look at them,” Mr. Price said to his wife. “Would you do something? Don’t they know how important tonight is for me? And tell them I have a job for them once that banner is hung.”
“Yes, dear,” said Mrs. Price, dabbing her nose with her pink handkerchief. “I’ll just . . .” Then Mrs. Price hurried over to her sons. “Boys,” she said in her quiet voice. “Now, boys. Your father asked you to hang up his banner, remember?”
At that moment, Leroy clobbered mechanical Marty with a gorilla punch to the gut. Then he raised his arms above his head and feigned being held back by a referee. Seeing his chance, Marty wound up his arms in wide circles and yelled, “Beep bop beep!” But after extending his arms into punches that didn’t connect, he had a mechanical failure that rendered him defenseless and he collapsed in an imaginary pile of wires and circuits.
“Boys,” said Mrs. Price when the match was over and Leroy stopped grunting and pounding his chest, “your father would like the banner to hang right in front of the podium where he’ll be speaking. He’d also like me to remind you how important this evening is for him and for our family.”
“But the Mechanical Man demands a rematch,” said Leroy, kicking Marty with his foot. “Don’t you, Mechanical Man?”
Marty nodded helplessly and gave a single, defeated “Boop.”
“I see. Well, how about hanging up the banner and then having the rematch?” suggested their mother. “And report back to your father when you are finished. He has another job for you, understand?” She didn’t wait for an answer and simply hoped the boys would comply. Then she hurried back to Mr. Price, who was poring over the list of things he needed to do before the night’s festivities. He crossed off “Photographer” and underscored the next item on the list: “Flyers.”
And underneath that, he circled what was written in capital letters: “BAUM’S RESTAURANT.”