Chapter 47
SPEAKING OF DUMB…
In the middle of my intense training for Las Vegas, Long Beach Middle School decides to toss a monkey wrench into my well-oiled comedy machine.
And by monkey wrench, I mean report card.
It’s not close to what it should be, unless you have a fondness for the third and fourth letters of the alphabet.
“Ha!” says Stevie when he sees all the Cs and Ds lined up in a tidy grid. “You’re supposed to be tutoring me?”
Even worse, my “effort” grades are pretty crummy, too.
Uncle Frankie shakes his head when I show it to him.
His yo-yo stops spinning. Just kind of droops sadly on its string.
“This is bad, Jamie.”
“I know. But, well, I’ve been focusing on my act and—”
“You should’ve been focusing on your schoolwork, too. They call that multitasking. Like flipping burgers while looping-the-loop. To make it in this world, kiddo, you’ve got to be able to handle more than one thing at a time. I don’t like doing this, but… Jamie, you’re grounded.”
I have never seen Uncle Frankie look so disappointed in me.
“Are you taking back the Mustang, too?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. But no more comedy rehearsals, no more field trips to scout out new material, no more nothing—not until you buckle down and get these grades up.”
To make it official, we pay a visit to the Smileys.
“I agree with your uncle Frankie, Jamie,” says Mrs. Smiley. “And I’m speaking for Mr. Kosgrov, too.”
“How about Ol’ Smiler?” I ask. “Does the dog get a vote? Because I think he might be on my side. I used to let him lick my gruel bowl.”
Nobody laughs.
Not even Ol’ Smiler. He kind of groans and flops on the floor with a disappointed sigh.
That night, Uncle Frankie comes into my room for a man-to-man talk.
“Look, Jamie, you probably think we’re all being pretty hard on you. But getting good grades is your primary job right now. It’s your meat and potatoes. Doing comedy, performing in Vegas, that’s the extra stuff. The gravy.”
“But comedy is my life.”
“I know. And when you have a dream, you should chase after it with everything you’ve got. But, and this is a very big but…”
(I would’ve laughed at that very big but except I’m not supposed to be thinking about comedy or butt jokes until my grades improve.)
“… even when you’re dreaming, you need to take care of your primary responsibilities. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. I’m glad we had this little talk.”
“Uncle Frankie?”
“Yeah?”
“The Las Vegas semifinals are only four weeks away.”
“Good. You have a whole month to turn some of those Cs and Ds into As and Bs.”
“And if I don’t?”
Uncle Frankie pauses, then shakes his head. “No Vegas, kiddo. Sorry.”