Saturday, June 24, 2017


When I was 10 my mother told me to look in the Sears Wish Book and circle some things I might like for Christmas. But I already knew what I wanted: the Charlie McCarthy ventriloquist's dummy. So I circled it twenty times, with exclamation points, and folded down the page, prominently. That Christmas, one present wrapped under the tree looked like exactly the right dimensions to be a box with a ventriloquist's dummy waiting for me inside. Late at night I spoke to the box, told it my darkest secrets. But when I opened it on Christmas morning, imagine my, shock, my horror, upon discovering not Charlie McCarthy inside, but goddam Mortimer Snerd! SHIT. All I got was Mortimer Snerd, the half-lidded hick with the one buck tooth. I HATED Mortimer Snerd. And I vowed that one day, one day, I would get my Charlie McCarthy ventriloquist's dummy and I would call him (since he has no top hat, monocle, or cane) by his true name...Boy-o!

Well, I got my Boy-o today. Didn't I, Boy-o, didn't I?

"Ha ha, you sure did, Bucko!"

And I did it...even though I can't afford you! I didn't want to buy you. But you made me do it. How I laughed and laughed when I realized the matter is entirely out of my hands. I have no voice in the matter at all. I take my orders from you now, don't I, Boy-o?

"And how, Bucko, AND HOW!"

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