Me and Junior

a magician acts as big brother to a floundering adolescent

    Maniacal ticks spasmed around the Brawler’s junk-yard-dog snarl.

     "Listen ya t**d, I'll rip yer head off and piss down yer throat." He pronounced throat with a silent H, and sprayed my face with hot saliva for dramatic effect. 

     

     “O.K.” I agreed, then turned to my little buddy. "Hey Junior, what ya flinching for?” Seems Junior missed his bus again and decided to pull a short-cut to school down a Tenderloin back-alley, replete with muggers and thugs. To a magician, timing is everything, and my momentous arrival fit Junior’s needs perfectly. 

     The size of Junior's eyes made Dolly Parton look like she wore a training bra. I figured I was gonna have to work some magic for 'im, but I sensed my proprietary feats of prestidigitation would play to a tough crowd.

     A momentary lapse of better judgement while using my magical powers landed me in civil court and the judge kinda insisted I sign up with the Big Brother Program as an alternative to doing hard time. Looking back, I should have thought my options through a little more. Kids these days, so touchy and confused. When I first laid eyes on Junior, visions of Tootsie Pops stopped dancing in my head. I knew I had my work cut out for me.

     In the middle of the alley, between towering brick walls, I turned my shoulder so no one could see what I materialized under panels of my trench coat. Spinning to face Brawler with a flourish, I thrust a six-month-old baby into his face. The infant sneered at him, flaunting ten pounds of green, runny crap in a one pound diaper�" the stench was staggering. 

     

     "Here ya go tough guy, CHANGE THIS!

Two hundred and seventy-five pounds of street-fighter gristle tripped over himself running away. It was embarrassing. I noticed Junior's eyes subtly shift over to Brawler’s sidekick, Slash. I shoved the baby into one of my coat pockets�" I’d have to remember to steam clean my threads later.

     

"Ok, princess." I turned my attention on the leathered-up, biker chick. "Try this on for size." 

 

     I peeled back the right side of my trench coat with a matador-like snap and suddenly, a bored-out-of-her-skull ten-year-old, appeared. The brat drilled a stare right between Slash’s eyes. Her ginger pig tails and dancing freckles hinted homicidal tendencies. 

    "See what you can do with HER for like the next ten hours."  Slash backed away, hands waving, legs trembling, her eyes stretched in fear. The ten-year-old latched onto Slash like a rabid pit bull. We heard screaming as they rounded the alley corner and disappeared. One of my better efforts. I’d have to conjure up little Freckles more often. 

     "See Junior, just shove some responsibility their way and watch the muggers scatter.” 

     Junior’s eyes marginally decreased in size. But his cinched lips told me I hadn’t completely sold him yet. I wanted to thank that probation judge. I had no idea how much fun being Junior’s “Big Brother” would turn out to be.

     

     “Hey little buddy, isn’t it time for you to get to school?” Junior’s eyes fell to half mast and he hiccuped. Each hiccup popped his eyes. I sensed something was up. 

    

     “Is there something at school you’re not too keen on? Do you want me to go with you?”

     Junior nodded like a dashboard bobble doll in a head-on collision. I pointed straight up and said, “Hey, what’s that?” When Junior looked, (the kid distracted too easily) I whirled around and materialized a Harley motorcycle with sidecar. We were gonna arrive at his school in style. “Hop in Junior, we’ll be there before the late bell.”

    At my age, I was used to dropped-jaw stares and could easily ignored them, but Junior tried to hunch and tremble himself into invisibility as we entered his school. All he had to do was ask me, but I figured turning him invisible wouldn’t help his self esteem any. I patted him on the shoulder and flashed my dazzling half-mouth grin at all the hallway slackers. A loud bell rang and Junior almost wet himself. I grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him to near his full height. 

     

     “Let’s see this first period class of yours buddy, your teacher can’t be all that bad.” I was a master of famous last words. 

     Junior’s first class was 9th grade Math, although he called it something like Calculus? I didn’t have a clue, numbers don’t mean squat to magicians. Still holding his collar, I tried to marionette a saunter out of Junior as we entered his classroom. I might have had better luck holding a bag of dry cleaning. When I maneuvered Junior into his seat, we got noticed.

    

     “Mr. Junior, who have you brought to class today?” His instructor was trying to force a passive/aggressive upper hand. Junior’s head disappeared into his shirt collar, leaving only his spiky red hair visible. I had nothing to do with that magic. I turned to face the teacher and used both sides of my mouth to smile. 

     

     “Hello, I’m Junior’s Big-, er cousin Elmer, just thought I’d sit in today.”

     “Really…” replied the teacher sarcastically. 

     I didn’t like his tone of voice nor his cheap, Shitzu toupee. A hushed murmur ran around the room, punctuated by a couple of truncated goat bleats.

     

     “Well, Mr. Elmer-“

     “No mister, Professor, just Elmer.” 

     “Ah. Well Elmer we don’t usually allow visitors without an office pass… but maybe we can over look it just this once.” 

     I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and quickly crossed my fingers. I could tell this character was gonna test my self control. 

     

     “Get your homework out class, and lets check your answers.”

     Junior fumbled around with his book. I didn’t need Tarot cards to know he hadn’t done his homework. This situation was gonna get ugly in a hurry.

     

     “Mr. Junior, forgot your homework again? Will you please join me at the blackboard?”

     Poor kid. Junior slowly shuffled to the black board like a pirate walking a British plank. His bony knees clicked like Flamenco castanets. 

     

     “Now Mr. Junior, write the first equation of the homework assignment on the blackboard and try to solve it for the rest of the class.” 

     

     I sat on Junior’s desktop and pulled my fedora over my eyes. I scratched the back of my head with one hand, and did a little telekinesis with the other. No one noticed magic guiding Junior’s hand as he scribbled out Einsteins full, unabridged equation for Relativity. The teacher watched, stiff as a dime store mannequin. Junior ground the fresh stick of chalk to a nubbin and covered the ten foot black slate, frame to frame. A line of white dust, two inches deep accumulated beneath the blackboard.

     When finished, Junior’s eyes resembled Buick hubcaps. I looked around the room, noticing my efforts were again wasted on the peanut gallery. 

     

     “Ah… um…Mr. Jun-…. hmm,” was all Junior’s teach managed to stutter. The loud alarm bell sounded again and there was a cavalry stampede for the door. I walked up to Junior and covertly put my hand on his collar. 
 

    “Well Professor, this certainly was educational. Did Junior get the answer right?” The math teacher only chewed his tongue and squinted insults at me. I whistled an improvised Strauss and waltzed Junior out the same way I waltzed him in. 

     Outside the classroom, I got a sense why Junior acted so shell shocked. Students scrambled through the halls like Teddy Roosevelt charging hills in San Juan. With a little effort, I could conjure the entire corridor into spring break at Daytona Beach�"bikini volley ball, underaged drunkenness, motel room musical chairs…but I decided to skip it. Junior was a freshman, and wasn’t ready nor old enough for the big-time yet. But he was ready for lunch. 

     I steered Junior like he was on a dolly and felt his heels skid on the linoleum as we neared the school lunchroom. Inside a long row of crash-bar doors was an open expanse that reminded me of the chaos and testosterone in a federal prison exercise yard, and that was just at the cheerleader’s table. At the back of this arena, was the hot lunch kitchen, serving mystery meat topped with melted red and yellow dye.

     “Are you having a hot lunch today Junior?” 

     Junior’s lowered eyes inspected his belt buckle. I should have guessed. We picked out a vacant table and took a seat. Tyrannosaurus belches emanated from the jock table. The nerds and thespian students held a food fight using gummy bear projectiles while at another table the marching band, dug through neat, starched and pressed brown bag lunches like creek otters. Junior sat still at our folding table and stared at its plastic veneered surface. His stomach growled like an abandoned kitten.

     “Ya know, I wouldn’t touch that cafeteria Ptomaine if I was a starving wharf rat. And who eats celery sticks and pickles embalmed in wax paper, right? Ok buddy, what do ya say to an ice cream sundae for lunch?”

     Junior hunched his shoulders and knitted his brow, then shot a sideways glance up at me. He still needed convincing. 

     I removed my fedora and placed it upside down on the table. Next I dipped both hands inside and carefully raised a sterling tureen from its depths. The container expanded to the size of a prom punchbowl as I laid it on the tabletop. It was filled with 32 scoops of different flavored ice-cream, half a bunch of split bananas, a pound of mixed nuts, caramel and three pounds of strawberries drowning in chocolate syrup. Junior’s eyes grew to owl proportions. I materialized a couple shovel-sized spoons from my breast-pocket. 

     “Here ya go buddy, better get at it before it melts.” 

     Before he dug in, I caught him shoot a quick glance to the end of our table, where a mousy, nerd girl cowered and gazed longingly in Juniors direction. Throw away the thick rim glasses, give her a cashmere sweater and tight jeans and she was the spitting image of a teenage, Norma Jean. Kismet? Didn’t matter, I rubbed the bench seat and it magically shortened, bringing the shy nerd-damsel right up to the belly buster trough. I calmed her startled reaction by handing her my spoon and then moved from between them, slipping off to a nearby position against the wall. Love at first sight? Maybe, maybe not. Love can’t compete with rocky road and cookie dough. But if Junior played his cards right, he’d have a heck of a prom date later that year. 

     I was filing my nails, hangnails are a magicians bane, when a doughy-gut, towheaded, rich boy carrying a box of Giordino’s pizza stopped at Juniors table. His face rippled all kinds of confusion. He looked around for support from school authorities. None responded. Blondie boy then gave a high sign toward the jock table and another blonde head cropped up�" a bigger version of pizza boy. His swagger had quarterback written all over it. 

     “What’s up bro?”

     “You see this?” said pizza boy, “Junior here is eating ice cream, a lot of ice cream and he didn’t bring enough for everyone.”

     “That so?” jock strap leaned in close enough to prevent Junior from swallowing. “What have you got to say Junior?” They both knew Junior didn’t talk. 

     “If you don’t bring enough for the entire school, your treats are forfeit to the student body representatives, namely my brother and I. Hand over that bowl of ice cream and your spoons” pizza boy demanded. 

     Junior froze stiff, I thought I saw his chin move forward, ever so slightly. His nerdy little girlfriend crouched behind her spoon. I’d seen enough. My fedora was still on the table beside the tureen. I gently patted my chest and gave a low whistle. Curled claws wrapped around the upturned brim of my hat. Then a broad nose started to sniff around its edge. No one noticed yet. Coarse fur sprouted and finally the massive head of a grizzly bear rose up. Now they noticed. 

     The bear rose from my hat, and placed one protective paw on Juniors head. Junior’s girl melted like sorbet onto the bench. The bear leaned toward the two blonde bullies, steam rose from the bruin’s slavering jaws. Pizza boy dropped his box of bacon and pineapple pie, his older brother turned from beach-bum-blonde to opossum albino. They ran for the doors. I snapped my fingers and the Griz turned into a stuffed Teddy bear sitting next to the ice cream. 

     “Hey, buddy, I think we gotta go.” 

     I gently woke princess nerdy and handed her the stuffed bear. 

     

     “This is for you, with Junior’s compliments. If you look close, you’ll find his phone number stitched into the bears vest. Maybe you two can help each other with homework tonight.” The girl melted onto the bench again. I grabbed Junior by his collar and slid him shuffleboard fashion toward an exit. 

We didn’t quite make it. 

     When I pushed open a cafeteria door to leave, a slab of meat blocked my path. The towering man’s features were weathered and cracked like a Marine’s leather collar. A permanent frown etched canyons into his face.

     “Going someplace?” He didn’t need to talk, a dead, snake-eye stare telegraphed his message. 

     “Us? No, not particularly.” I answered. 

     “I was speaking to Mr. Junior. Who are you?”

     “Me? I’m his cousin Elmer, on his mother’s side of the family.”

     “Do you have a sanctioned office pass to be on premises Mr. Elmer?”

     “No mister, just El-“ It was clear the man wasn’t interested in clarification. “To whom am I speaking?”

     “I’m Mr. Warrant, the school’s truant officer.” He punctuated his answer with his signature, snake-eyed stare.

     “Glad to know you. I’m here visiting my cousin, Junior. I find his teachers very interesting.”

     “That’s fine, real fine.” Warrant said in a low, whiskey whisper.  “Now I have business with Mr. Junior. Follow me to my office.” 

     We followed, or rather I followed and dragged Junior on a tow hook. The huge man sat behind his desk, stretching time to study both of us. I stood behind Junior, my hands on his quivering shoulders. He was sweating like Niagara. Mr. Warrant had no chairs in his office, anyone invited there was forced to stand�" firing squad style. I tilted my hat back on my head and smiled, the same way I smiled during the reading of the court sentence, that ultimately brought Junior and I together. 

     “Its come to my attention Mr. Junior, that you have a habit of arriving late to school, very late. So late in fact that sometimes you’re truant the whole day. Am I mistaken?” He leveled those dead, obsidian eyes on Junior. I looked around. Warrant’s office was filled with taxidermies, ferrets, weasels, lizards. I noticed a faint odor of formaldehyde. 

     By now, I’d have this guy playing pinocle with Louisiana swamp gators. But for some odd reason my usual impulsive mojo was somehow dampened. So Junior and I could only stand and listen to the truant officers diatribe.

     “If you do not bring your attendance record into accord, Mr. Junior, I’ll be more than happy to submit a suspension form to the school board. Do I make myself clear?” Warrant tapped a thick finger on his desk waiting for Junior to answer. A stuffed ground squirrel paperweight shivered with each tap. 

Junior started to nod like that bobble doll again, and I vice-gripped his head after two nods. The kid needed a mouthpiece. I volunteered. 

     “Crystal clear Mr. Warrant, you have my personal assurance that Junior will have perfect attendance from this juncture on.”

     “That’s fine.” The man studied me with lowered eyelids. “Real fine. You both are dismissed.” 

     With that statement, Mr. Warrant began dialing his phone and swiveled his chair around so his back was to us. We escaped�" the stuffed road kill weren’t so lucky. 

     I hadn’t a clue as to why I didn’t unleash humiliating hellfire on that meat-block. I seemed hobbled, stymied, muzzled. I’d never felt that way in my life. There was something strange going on with that guy and his stuffed menagerie morgue. Junior was on a strict need to know basis, so I kept it to myself for now.

     On our way back to Juniors apartment house, I pulled the Harley beside Mario’s, a neighborhood deli. This big brother stuff gave me a ferocious appetite. I ordered two “Joey Specials” and herded Junior to a booth by the window while we waited.

     “That’s one heck of a school you go to, buddy.” Junior responded by staring at our ride parked outside.  “You know, none of that stuff matters. The homework, the bullies, the scary truant officer. None of it.”

     Junior turreted his gaze from the parking lot to stare at my lips. 

     “What matters is who you are. That’s where the magic is kid. Deep down inside and it’s a powerful source of strength and courage.” 

     I still couldn’t tell from his expression if anything was getting through to him, whether I had finally sold him on the goods�" or if he believed in me at all. 

     

     “Here’s a little secret, just smile. Yep, a bold, eat ‘em alive, take no prisoners smile is your best weapon, strong magic against all that threatens ya.”

     Junior blinked a couple times. A waiter brought two subs crammed with salami, pepperoni, roast beef, tomato slices and provolone all doused with Italian dressing. We unwrapped the subs and I watched Junior take a wolfish bite out of his. I watched as his jaws worked the chewy bread and meats. After swallowing, he looked up at me and spread a smile that touched both his ears. He got it. 

     “Yeah buddy, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Just like that.”

     We finished the sandwiches, ordered some waffle fries and a pint of ketchup and then washed it all down with thick, chocolate shakes. Afterward I dropped him off in front of his apartment building. “See ya same time, same place tomorrow kid.” 

Author's Note

Favorite oldie I’ve been working on, still needs an ending tweak. No, I don’t have an intention of making it a series or adding more chapters etc. it is what it is, it goes where it goes. Obviously I wasted my youth on Saturday morning cartoons…. Critiques and comments welcome.

Reviews

[FlatDaddy]

Oh, my friend, I haven't laughed this hard since I saw Trump's hair fly up in the breeze like a scared squirrel trying to escape its peroxide trap as he boarded Air Force One (Trump. not the squirrel). Every paragraph had a belly laugh, every sentence a guffaw. Every word a chuckle? Okay, it wasn't THAT funny, but it was close. You just make me want to write cool writing here; your writing makes other writers want to write better, whether you want them to get that feeling or not. It doesn't mean they will. But damn, sometimes it's like you cram more perfect words and phrases together than shouldn't fit in a paragraph; but they do, and they are all essential. Like your start:

"Maniacal ticks spasmed around the Brawler’s junk-yard-dog snarl.
"Listen ya t**d, I'll rip yer head off and piss down yer throat." He pronounced throat
"with a silent H, and sprayed my face with hot saliva for dramatic effect."

From that point on, I was hooked and holding my gut. "Maniacal ticks"? How did you come up with that superb picture? I saw that and saw the spasm and the snarl!

Seriously, Roarke this is pure Genius. I'm not just trying to blow smoke up your kilt. You write so beautifully. Im halfway through a new short story I was sure would be quite good, and now I think I'm going to have to scrap the whole thing and start over.
That's okay, because now I know it'll be better.

Aw wellll,
"It was a dark and stormy night ..

FD."

[roarke]

Hey some of my best work starts with the dark and stormy night…. And this piece only took me 15 yrs to get to this stage, I kid you not. I appreciate the read and if it inspires you to write, then write Horatio write. I’ll scrounge around for another one. Thanks again Flatdaddy.

[roarke]

If you liked this one, you might try “Doing Lunch” or “Art Museum”…. Similar humor, a bit less “magical”…lol

[FlatDaddy]

heehee, funny man ...
but I surely will read more, how could I not. It's free instruction in my art. But I have so much to do it will be a while before I can come back. Oh, woe!

[FlatDaddy]

those two are now on my reading list, yippee1

[George Rockefeller]

Very fun read! Was a little hard for me to catch the flow of it at first because it's so different from what I am used to reading, but once I did I couldn't stop until the end! Don't know about it needing an ending tweak. I thought Junior loosening up was great: it shows a good change in direction of his personality as he starts to learn an important life lesson.

[roarke]

Thanks George, glad you stuck with it and enjoyed.