Out of Whack (17 page)

       Crap! I missed my cue!

       I hurried onto stage. As the lights hit me, I came to the sudden unpleasant realization that I couldn’t remember one word of what I was supposed to say. Not one word. I just stood there, silently, legs trembling.

       Travis looked over at me expectantly.

       I broke the silence with a hiccup.

       “Chuck, you’re drunk on the job again!” Travis said. “And our good buddy Vinnie Faltermeyer is dead. Remember that one time when we snuck into Vinnie’s room...”

       As Travis went through the shaved armpits segment, I frantically tried to remember my lines. They were gone without a trace.

       “Oh, man, those were some times,” said Travis, his chuckle sounding significantly more forced than it had in rehearsal.

      
Ad-lib something, you idiot!
shrieked my inner voice. But I couldn’t. I opened my mouth, and nothing emerged but a hiccup.

       The audience chuckled mildly.

       “And remember that really cool popping sound...?” asked Travis, performing my lines for me. The audience’s reaction had dwindled significantly from the opening of the skit. It’s tough to get laughs when they know you’re screwing up.

       Travis got the lines right, but it had to be blatantly obvious that he was covering for me. “Well, Chuck,” he said, “you’re interrupting the newscast. Get the hell off the set.”

       I nodded, hiccupped, and managed to walk off the stage.

       “Was that planned?” Flaming Hair asked.

       “All of it,” I said. I could hear Travis performing the Butch lines in a low, overly masculine voice. He was doing a decent job, but the momentum was gone and the audience was silent.

       “...that’s the news, I’m done,” finished Travis. As the audience began applauding politely, I moved away from the curtain and retreated to a private corner to accept the immense truckloads of verbal abuse he had in store for me.

       At least we hadn’t done as bad as Awful Singer.

       Travis walked into the backstage area, accepted congratulations from Flaming Hair, then strode over to me. “Feeling better?” he asked.

       “Yeah. A little,” I responded, avoiding eye contact.

       “What was that all about? We practiced that stupid skit for two weeks. What, did you have too many lines?”

       “I’m sorry,” I said in a weak voice. “I just...I don’t know what happened. I got nervous.”

       “No, no,
I
got nervous. Getting nervous is when there’s this little tingle in your stomach. What you did is called fucking up! Which is okay, because you didn’t look like a jerk in front of all those people, I did.”

       “It wasn’t that bad. You covered for me.”

       “It was a disaster, Seth. Do you know how good it felt to be out there at first? There was this incredible energy, and the people were loving it! They were laughing! It was like the best feeling in the world, and I’m not even a virgin. There I am, enjoying this more than anything I’ve ever enjoyed in my life, and then all of a sudden I have to sit out there in front of two hundred goddamn people pretending that my best friend isn’t ruining it for me!”

       There was an uncomfortable silence as I realized that a few of the other contestants were watching us. “I didn’t mean to mess it up,” I said. “You know I didn’t do it on purpose.”

       “That doesn’t help,” he said. “I never should have worked with you.”

       He walked away. I just stood there, feeling terrible. I didn’t move as the last two competitors finished up their acts and Jim asked everyone to line up so they could march on-stage for the judges’ decision. Travis got in line and glanced over at me, but didn’t ask me to join him.

       They all walked through the curtain, and I listened as Saul said his closing words. And then he announced the results, from last to first place.

       Awful Singer won. To this day I can’t believe it.

       Flaming Hair came in second. Tampon Man took fifth, presumably because he offended the priest. Hold For Laughter didn’t come out on-stage either, but he took ninth.

       Out of Whack came in dead last.

“A Double Dose of Groveling”

       “Gooooood morning,” I said, walking into our dorm room with a
grocery bag. “It’s time once again for the Shameless Groveling From Seth Show! It’s pathetic, it’s dehumanizing, it’s pleading in its lowest form! But that’s not all! On today’s episode, we’ve also got bribery!”

       I opened the bag and took out a jumbo-size Cadbury chocolate bar. “Our first bribe comes to us direct from Ma and Pa’s Quik-Stop. Rumor has it that Ma and Pa were never married, and in fact may be a very liberal brother and sister team, but that doesn’t change the fact that they carry the greatest chocolate bar in the nation!”

       Travis, who was lying in bed with the blanket over his head, didn’t move.

       “Yes, a full eight ounces of scrumptious chocolaty goodness, purchased expressly to gain forgiveness for last night’s debacle. The judges know that Travis Darrow is a big fan of Cadbury’s chocolate bars, but will this be enough to regain his friendship? Let’s see!”

       I tossed the candy bar onto Travis’ bed. He didn’t react.

       “Bzzzzz! I’m sorry, forgiveness has not been reached! Now we enter round two, where the stakes are even higher!” I took out three large bottles of iced tea. “That’s right, iiiiit’s Snapple! All-natural Snapple iced tea, in lemon, raspberry, and peach flavors! It’s a delicious taste sensation that our Travis Darrow is more than a little fond of, and it’s our next bribe! But...is it good enough?”

       I placed the bottles on Travis’ bed. He still wasn’t moving.

       “Bzzzzz! Oh no, we have another negative response! That means it’s time for the bonus round, where the game gets really wild!” I took out the last of the bag’s contents. “Yes, that’s right, it’s a yo-yo! There’s nothing like a good bout of yo-yoing to cure those I-hate-my-best-friend blues. With this top of the line Duncan yo-yo, in its eye-pleasing shade of periwinkle, you can yo and yo and yo all the livelong day! While we realize that Travis Darrow has never expressed any great desire for this bribe, the simple fact remains that everyone loves a yo-yo.”

       This time I achieved actual movement. Travis rolled over to face me.

       “Yes, this fine yo-yo product is the final bribe on today’s episode of Shameless Groveling From Seth. And the ultimate decision from the judges is...?”

       “Will you shut up and let me sleep?”

       I pretended to think about it. “Ummmm, no. Next question?”

       “Go away. I was having a good dream.”

       “Can I confess something?” I asked. “You know that dream where you’re in the school hallway in your underwear and everyone is staring at you? I love that one. I dream it on purpose. Here, have a yo-yo.”

       I handed him the yo-yo. He set it on the floor. “All I want to do is get a little sleep without having to listen to your mouth. Is that so much to ask?”

       “Not at all. But as it turns out, I’ve made plans to stay here and bug you until you forgive me. Oh, the sights you’ll see! There’s no limit to how far I can degrade myself if I set my mind to it.”

       Travis sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

       “Time has no meaning in the land of humiliation.”

       He let out a sigh of frustration. “Okay, I forgive you! Will you shut up now?”

       “Maybe. Are you sincere?”

       “Listen, I’m sorry I threw such a tizzy fit last night. I overreacted. It could have happened to anyone with your personality defects. You’re not the Anti-Christ on steroids.”

       He was being a wise-ass. That was a good sign.

       “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” he continued. “Sure, two hundred students will be turning in papers describing our outrageous incompetence, but that’s okay. If I cared what people thought about me I would have gotten rid of you long ago.”

       “So things are cool?” I asked.

       “Yeah,” he said.

       “Can I take back the chocolate and Snapple?”

       “No. And from now on, if I want to bring a girl back to the room you’re sleeping out in the Dumpster, no questions asked. I’ll put up a ‘Reserved For Seth Trexler’ sign.”

       “It’s a deal.”

       “And you have to give me a weekly pedicure, complete with wart removal and a tender kiss on the big toe to make me feel all special inside.”

       I shook my head. “I’ll scrape off the warts, but I’m not kissing your toe. Even without my tongue.”

       “Good enough. Now go away and let me get back to my mud wrestling dream.”

       “No problem. I’m heading out anyway.”

       “Where are you going?”

       Where, indeed? On a mission. On the most frightening quest of my life. To face something far more terrifying than anything I’d ever dealt with before. Even scarier than the mystery crust in the toilet stalls.

       “Remember Laura?” I asked. “I’m going to find her.”

       “Are you serious?”

       “Absolutely. Oh, I puked on her last night, by the way.”

       “You never mentioned that.”

       “It slipped my mind.”

       After purchasing my bribe supplies, I’d stopped off at Sniper Hall and flipped through the directory searching for the name Laura. There were two, Laura Cowfull and Laura Stricklen, in rooms 108 and 401. I decided that, barring a last-second descent into cowardice, I was going to go to her room and talk to her. It seems brave, but, let’s face it, I wasn’t taking much of a risk. It wasn’t like she could think I was more of a loser than she already did.

       So, with bribe bag #2 in hand, I returned to Sniper Hall. It was an all-female dormitory, which meant it smelled about 8000% better than the average all-male dormitory. This also meant that I was required to have a female escort at all times, lest I embark upon an impromptu panty raid.

       I didn’t know anybody in the dorm, so I decided to risk a no-escort castration and went to room 108. There was a poster on the door of a perfectly tanned, muscular hunk, naked except for a very large beer bottle over his privates. I knocked, avoiding the poster.

       “Hi,” said a slightly hefty blonde as she opened the door.

       “Hi. I’m trying to find Laura.”

       “She’s not here. Want me to tell her you stopped by?”

       “First let me make sure I’ve got the right person. Do you know if she went to the comedy contest last night?”

       The blonde nodded. “She said she met a nice guy there. Was that you?”

       “No, somehow I kind of doubt she would describe me that way. Does she have black hair?”

       “No hair.”

       “Wrong person. Sorry to bug you.”

       I continued down the hall and entered the stairwell. I climbed up to the fourth floor, passing such graffiti as “Dicks are like weeds. They’re always popping up when you don’t want them to, and the best solution is to yank them out.”

       (Congratulations! You have just read three penis-related jokes in less than two pages! Give yourself a big hand!)

       (And while you’re at it, congratulate me for avoiding a fourth joke involving “a big hand.”)

       I went through the stairwell door into the hallway and walked over to room 401, which turned out to be the furthest one from the stairwell. I passed three different girls, but none of them screamed out an alarm regarding the unescorted male in their presence, probably because they thought I looked like a sissy.

       The door was already open. A girl with actual functioning pigtails sat on the floor, reading a novel called
Food Fight of the Living Dead.

       “Excuse me,” I said, standing in the doorway. “I’m looking for Laura.”

       “She’s studying with a friend. I think they’re still in the building. I could probably get a hold of her if you want.”

       “Sure, if you don’t mind.” Don’t wimp out, don’t wimp out, don’t wimp out...

       The girl stood up. “And your name is...?”

       “Seth.” Don’t wimp out, don’t wimp out, don’t wimp out...

       Her eyes widened. “Seth? Beer and vomit Seth?”

       I nodded sheepishly. “That would be me.”

       “No way! You’re actually coming to see her? On purpose?”

       “Yeah.”

       “You, my friend, are one brave man.” She picked up the phone. “Are you really Seth? This isn’t a joke?”

       “I’m really Seth.”

       The girl laughed in amazement. “Actually coming to see her,” she said to herself as she punched in a phone number. I was jealous of her. Our phones in Tanglewood were rotary dial with uneven holes.