I, Funny

by James Patterson

THE SHOW MUST GO ON (SOMETIME SOON, PLEASE?)

  It seems we’re in the holding room for hours. I feel like a prisoner of war.

  Or maybe that’s just what spending two minutes with Shecky from Schenectady feels like. An eternity.

  Then we’re told that the start of the show is being delayed because the club needs to bring in more chairs for the overflow audience. Apparently, somebody’s third cousins twice removed just arrived.

  If this keeps up, our standing-room-only crowd is going to have to stand on top of each other.

  “I’ll bet they’re waiting for Joe Amodio to show up,” says Judy, the girl from Manhattan who might become a TV star on the Disney Channel.

  “Who’s Joe Amodio?” I ask.

  “Executive producer of the Planet’s Funniest Kid Comic Contest,” she explains. “Whoever wins here goes on to the regionals up in Boston. If you win there, you move on to the semifinals in Vegas. You make it to the top four in Vegas, you’re going to Hollywood.”

  “Hollywood?”

  “The finals. Which, of course, will be televised. Live.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Nerve-racking, huh?”

  “A little.”

  Actually, my sweat glands are kind of turning into lawn sprinklers again.

  Shecky from Schenectady strolls over to butt in to our conversation.

  “You guys talking about Hollywood?”

  Before we even answer, he launches into another corny joke.

  “Hey—what do you get when you cross a dog with a movie studio?”

  Judy groans. “Collie-wood?”

  “That’s right, babe. And that’s the kind of killer material I’ll be slaying the crowd with. Big-time. So maybe you two losers should just call it quits and head for home.”

  I grin. “What? And miss your act?”

  Judy laughs. “Good one, Jamie.”

  I like Judy. If I don’t win, I hope she does. And I hope she gets her Disney show, too.

  “You know, Judy,” says Shecky, puffing up his chest, “you’re not a has-been. You’re a never-was. I’ve seen your act, sister.”

  “Yeah, I know,” says Judy. “And you stole half of it.”

  “I did not. Because your act is so lame, it makes this weenie in the wheelchair look like an Olympic sprinter. You started at the bottom, Judy, and it’s been downhill ever since. Ba-boom! Nailed it.”

  The funny girl just shakes her head and waltzes away.

  “You know,” says Shecky, “that Judy is so dumb, she thinks a quarterback is a refund. She’s so ugly…”

  I don’t stick around to hear the rest of his recycled yo momma jokes, because I see Aunt Smiley standing at the door.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hi. I brought you a cold drink,” she says, handing me an icy glass of water.

  “Thanks.” I gulp it down.

  “It’s crowded out there. Are you nervous?”

  She’s super worried. How can I tell? She’s frowning even more than usual.

  I nod. “Yeah. A little.”

  “Me too. And I’m not even the one going up onstage. Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this, Jamie?”

  I look over at Shecky from Schenectady.

  “Yeah,” I say. “More than ever.”

  “Okay,” she says. “Just remember—the important thing is that you tried.”

  “Um, I haven’t even lost yet.”

  “I know that. I’m talking about after.”

  Chapter 55

  BATTER UP!

  Okay, that was Shecky from Schenectady,” says the emcee. “Guess he forgot about our ten-minute time limit….”

  Shecky totally tanked. He tried and tried, but all he got were a couple groans, like you hear when people repeat bad puns. I guess his friends and cousins couldn’t make the trip down from Schenectady.

  “Our next comic comes from Long Island,” says the emcee. “He’s from a town called Long Beach, which, if you ask me, is pretty obvious. Of course the beach is long—you just said it was on a long island. Makes you wonder, did the early settlers on Long Island forget to pack their adjectives? The only one they seem to know is long! ‘This beach? Long beach. This guy? Longfellow. The boat ride over from England? Long.’ ”

  The emcee is working hard. Trying to wake up the crowd that Shecky put to sleep. They chuckle. A little. Not a really great sign.

  I’m waiting in the wings. Sweating up a storm. Getting ready to bolt.

  “Okay, let’s bring on our final comedian. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Long Island’s very own Jamie Grimm.”

  The crowd roars. Well, my section roars. But today my section is pretty big.

  I roll up a makeshift ramp to the stage.

  I fiddle with the microphone stand, which both Shecky and the emcee forgot to lower, so it’s about two feet too high.

  And my brain freezes again. This time, I can’t remember punch lines or setups. I’m even having trouble remembering my name and what day it is and exactly where I am and why.

  Hands trembling, I fumble with the mic; twist it out of its clamp. While I’m doing all that, I look out at the audience and see my entourage. The Smileys. Uncle Frankie. The diner crew. Mrs. Kanai and my friends from school.

  Cool Girl sees me seeing her and shoots me her coolest wink.

  And suddenly my brain reboots.

  “Um, hi,” I say when I’ve finally wrestled the microphone free from the stand. “I’m Jamie Grimm. Maybe you saw my picture on the men’s room door?”

  I pivot sideways to give them a silhouette.

  “By the way, have you ever really studied a handicapped sign? If you tilt it sideways, it sort of looks like a skinny guy with a Ping-Pong ball head sliding down into a giant toilet bowl because he forgot to lower the seat.

  “Anyway, it’s good to be here for the Planet’s Funniest Kid Comic Contest. I hear there are elimination rounds going on today all over the known galaxy. Except on Vulcan. Those people don’t laugh; they just live long and prosper.”

  The audience is laughing, so I improvise a quick bit on some other people who never laugh.

  “I think my adoptive family is part Vulcan. They’re here today. Very nice people, but they never, ever laugh. My apologies to all my fellow comics—those people who were not laughing at any of your jokes earlier? That would be my family.”

  The crowd laughs.

  “And then there’s my adoptive brother.”

  Yep. There’s something about being alone in the spotlight that makes you feel like Superman a billion miles away from the nearest Kryptonite. I am actually going after Stevie Kosgrov!

  “I wouldn’t call him a bully. Let’s just say he’s mean as a snake. No offense to snakes. When he was a baby, he punched out a goldfish for looking at him the wrong way—which, you know, fish kind of have to do because their eyeballs are on the sides of their heads.”

  I do a funny fish face, and the audience cracks up.

  “How mean is he? I’m thinking about getting a dog just so he’ll have something to kick besides me. The other day I learned he’s also a blogger, which, of course, is just two letters away from being a booger.”

  The audience applauds.

  I smile.

  Because now it’s time to make fun of the people I actually like!

  Chapter 56

  BRINGING IT HOME!

  Then there’s my Uncle Frankie,” I say, gripping the mic with both hands. “What a guy. Champion yo-yoer. What? You’ve never heard of the Yo-Yo World Series? You watch. It’ll be a sport at the next Olympics. My Uncle runs a diner out in Long Beach.”

  There’s a smattering of applause, led by Mr. Burdzecki and family.

  “Oh, you’ve been there? Well, I should warn you—Uncle Frankie yo-yos while he cooks. His extra-crunchy biscuits? Baked yo-yos. His spaghetti? Used yo-yo strings. His Ring Dings? Chocolate-covered yo-yos.”

  I shield my eyes with one hand and peer into the crowd.

/>   “Some of my friends from school are here today. Yep, there’s my pal Pierce. The guy’s a genius. He’s so smart, he’s counted to infinity. Twice. But, hey—the guy’s a little nerdy. It’s not like he’s busy doing anything else.”

  The audience is really with me now. It feels better than guzzling a six-pack of Red Bull.

  “And my other best friend is here, too. Gaynor. What can I tell you about Gaynor? The guy has a nose ring and tattoos. Couple of things you never want to hear in the tattoo parlor: ‘Eagle? I thought you said beagle.’ ‘There are two Os in Bob, right?’

  “And then there’s my new friend, a very cool girl from school. The other day she got super serious and asked me if I could take a whiz. I’m serious. She wanted to know if I could pee.”

  I toss up my hands to show how confused I was.

  Then I imitate Cool Girl’s voice. “ ‘Be serious for five seconds, Jamie. I need to know. Can. You. Tinkle?’ So I went ahead and made her day. I peed my pants.”

  Now the audience is howling.

  I am so jazzed, I slam into a manic mash-up of all my best stuff—while popping wheelies on a few of the punch lines.

  I do some funny accents, nailing Mr. Burdzecki on United Nations Beach.

  I waddle out a few penguin jokes.

  I make fun of the Smileys’ dog.

  I introduce the crowd to the zombies in the hood.

  And since we’re in New York City, I end with the Statue of Liberty.

  The crowd goes crazy, erupting with laughter and applause.

  Finally, it’s time for me to take a bow.

  And I do!

  Because I funny!

  Chapter 57

  LOOK AT ME! I’M THE COMEDY KING OF THE WORLD!

  Cue the theme from Rocky!

  It feels like the whole world is clapping and cheering for me. They won’t let me leave the stage! The audience keeps screaming and making noise and chanting “Ja-mie, Ja-mie!”

  The emcee finally rushes up and grabs the microphone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Jamie Grimm! Jamie Grimm, ladies and gentlemen!”

  The cheering gets louder. The chanting swells. “Ja-mie, Ja-mie, Ja-mie.”

  Now the three judges storm the stage. They’re carrying a trophy!

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” says the head judge, “we’re not gonna waste your time announcing runners-up and all that monkey junk. The decision of the judges was unanimous. The winner, the comic moving on to the regionals, the funniest kid comic in all of New York State is… the one, the only… Jamie Grimm!”

  I take the trophy, hug it once, and wave to everybody.

  It feels unbelievably great. It’s a miracle. It’s magical.

  For a total of, maybe, fifteen seconds.

  Chapter 58

  CASUALTIES OF COMEDY

  I can see my friends’ and family’s long faces from my spotlight on the stage.

  The faces look even longer when I go into the audience and get the close-up view.

  Suddenly, I understand what I just did.

  Remember how I said comedy was a great weapon to use against bullies? Well, it turns out it’s a weapon so powerful that if you’re not careful, it can also seriously injure the people you’re closest to.

  Gaynor and Pierce, my two best buds? The best guys ever. I’ve never seen them look sadder.

  The Smileys are frowning even more than usual. Stevie, of course, is scowling at me.

  Cool Girl? She’s hiding it better than the others, but I can tell: She is totally crushed that I would take our private, extremely personal conversation and make fun of it. Who would do something like that? An insensitive idiot—that’s who.

  Poor Uncle Frankie. How could I say those mean things about him and his diner? He’s the one who told me I had talent. Said I had a gift. And today I used it to trash his diner and his yo-yo—the two things he loves.

  They all look so disappointed in me.

  And, to be honest, I’m pretty disappointed in myself, too.

  Was it worth hurting my true friends’ feelings to win a dumb trophy? And what about Mrs. Kanai? I’d poked fun at her bleaching her facial hair. What’d she ever do to deserve that?

  Today wasn’t a school day, but I definitely learned a lesson: If I ever get up on a stage again (don’t count on it), I will stay away from the mean-spirited stuff.

  I will not make fun of my friends and family, who did nothing but support me.

  I will never, ever be funny at the expense of people I care about.

  Because if I don’t care who my comedy hurts, I might as well change my name to Shecky and move to Schenectady.

  Yeah, I funny.

  But I also feel lousy.

  Chapter 59

  WAS IT SOMETHING I SAID?

  The car ride back to Long Beach from Manhattan is very long and very, very quiet.

  Once again, I’m crammed in the backseat between Stevie and his little brother.

  Finally, when we’re on the Long Island Expressway, Mary, the youngest Smiley, pops up in the way back and says, “Jamie? Remember that joke about bloggers and boogers?”

  Stevie shoots me a look to let me know that I will soon be dead meat on a spit.

  I gulp once and answer his little sister. “Yes?”

  “That was funny.”

  “And we’re Vulcans,” says Uncle Smiley from behind the wheel.

  In the passenger seat, Aunt Smiley holds up her hand and spreads out her fingers like Spock. “Live long and prosper.”

  Then the two of them, believe it or not, start laughing.

  It’s a miracle.

  They do laugh! It just takes them about an hour to get the joke. It’s like they have a built-in time delay on their funny bones.

  “And that bit about Frank with his yo-yos!” Aunt Smiley giggles. “That was priceless.”

  “I always wondered why his biscuits tasted like hockey pucks,” adds Uncle Smiley.

  “Ooh,” says Aunt Smiley. “Hoo. Ooh-hoo.”

  I think she’s building up to an actual “ha-ha-ha.”

  “I liked when you made the funny fish face!” says Stevie’s little brother. “Mom, Dad,” he says in a deep dumb voice, which must be how he thinks his big brother sounds. “I’m going to the pet store to punch a goldfish and a guppy!”

  Up front, Aunt and Uncle Smiley giggle. The two little Smileys chuckle.

  Finally, I pipe up. “So, um, you guys aren’t mad at me?”

  “Of course not!” says Aunt Smiley. “Tee-hee. We haven’t laughed this hard in ages. Hee.”

  Even though she sounds like an embarrassed bird when she titters, she’s making me feel way better. I guess all is forgiven.

  “You sure?” I say. “You’re not just saying I was funny because you don’t want to hurt my feelings?”

  “Of course not, Jamie,” says Aunt Smiley. “You were funny.”

  “Funny-looking, too,” says Stevie’s little brother.

  “You keep making that fish face,” adds his mother, “and it will stick.”

  “I think it already has!” cracks Uncle Smiley.

  They all do their bird laughs again. Tee-hee, tee-hee.

  “Oh,” says Aunt Smiley, “I heard a good wheelchair joke the other day.”

  Okay. This is more like it. They’re making fun of me. That’s fair. Lay it on me.

  “Let’s see,” says Aunt Smiley, trying to remember her joke.

  I can relate to that.

  “Oh. Right. Two vultures were sitting in a tree. One sees a man in a wheelchair rolling down a hill. He taps the other vulture and says, ‘Why, look, Fred. Meals on Wheels!’ ”

  Okay. It’s awful. But the other Smileys (except Stevie, of course) are still tee-hee-heeing.

  When we pull into Smileyville, everybody is there. Gaynor, Pierce, Gilda, and Cool Girl. Mrs. Kanai and the vice principal. Uncle Frankie and the gang from the diner.

  “Surprise!” they all shout.

  “It’s a party!” cries U
ncle Frankie, hoisting up a huge bottle of orange soda. “To celebrate the funniest kid in all of New York State. My nephew, the one and only Jamie Grimm! But instead of ice cream and cake, we’re having chocolate-covered yo-yos!”

  Yes, he swung by the grocery store and bought every box of Ring Dings and Ding Dongs he could find.

  Guess he’s forgiven me, too.

  “You know the secret to staying young, Jamie?” says Uncle Frankie.

  “Yo-yoing while you cook? Your fish-oil capsules?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope. Being able to laugh at yourself. So thanks for keeping me young, kiddo.”

  What a party. What a night.

  The best I’ve had in two years.

  The best since the night I lost everything and everybody I ever loved.

  Chapter 60

  AN EVEN BIGGER (AND BETTER) SURPRISE

  The next day things go back to normal.

  Zombies in the neighborhood, school, a couple of jokes in math class, mystery meat in the cafeteria.

  In other words, life is mostly pretty good. As life goes.

  That night, Cool Girl and I meet up on the boardwalk. Just to sit and chat. So we chit. Then we chat. I bet we could chitchat (and chatchit) all night long and still have stuff to talk about when the sun came up, because when I’m with Cool Girl, I feel free to talk about anything and everything.

  And she’ll listen.

  And then she’ll tell me all sorts of incredibly weird stuff and ask the most insanely bizarre questions. Like I said before, with her there is no editing.

  So I’m trying to be more like that. Just blurt out whatever’s on my mind.

  Like the operation.