Not QUITE the Classics Read Free Page B

because it has a k in it.”
    â€œThe letter k is funny, is it?”
    â€œNot in and of itself. It’s the k sound that prompts amusement. When a mouth forms the k in any word, it widens into a grin, subconsciously making those observing this smile along. Many words that are endowed with the k factor are among the most amusing in the English language. Think of it: knickers, scuttlebutt, spelunking.”
    â€œI have to admit, I always have to conceal a smirk when introduced to a Kenneth.”
    I studied Holmes’s tired face. “Would you like me to make you something to eat? I can’t remember the last time I saw you indulge in foodstuffs.”
    â€œThank you, Watson, that is very considerate.”
    â€œWhat would you like?”
    â€œIt’s obvious.” He smiled. “Kippers, of course!”
    The next day, as I was going over some particularly intriguing anatomical texts, Holmes barreled out of his room.
    â€œWatson! Knock, knock.”
    â€œAh! Ha ha …yes, very funny, Holmes.”
    â€œWhat is?”
    â€œYour two k sounds. Yes, quite amusing.”
    â€œNo, no, this is a different thing altogether. Knock, knock.”
    I stared at him.
    â€œKnock, knock,” Holmes repeated.
    â€œWhy do you keep saying ‘Knock, knock?’”
    â€œIt’s something I have just invented. Well, to be truthful, I borrowed it from Shakespeare. The Porter…from Macbeth . Are you familiar with it?”
    â€œYes, Holmes, I am. I’m not illiterate, you know. I have read plays and books. You may have seen me with a newspaper at times.”
    â€œAll right, all right. No need to get your dander up. The Porter in the Scottish play pretends to be the porter to the gates of hell welcoming sinners of different professions. All follow the pattern of ‘Knock, knock,’ to which comes the reply ‘Who’s there?’ Then comes the joke. In the play it was a monologue, but I have devised it so that the audience can become part of the fun.”
    â€œHow will they know to say ‘Who’s there?’”
    Holmes seemed nonplussed. “What?”
    â€œHow,” I said, unconsciously slowing down as if talking to a Frenchman or a somewhat addled cocker spaniel, “will the audience know to say ‘Who’s there?’”
    â€œI shall tell them. That does not matter at the moment. I am trying to work the concept to see if the format is successful.”
    â€œAll right. Who’s there?”
    â€œWait for the set-up, will you? Knock, knock.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œNot ‘yes.’ ‘Who’s there?’ Let’s start again, shall we?” Holmes sighed loudly. “Knock, knock.”
    â€œWho’s there?” I said.
    â€œâ€™Tis I, Sherlock Holmes. Don’t you recognize me?”
    I stood stock-still, not knowing how to respond. Holmes, too, seemed a little uncertain.
    â€œHmm,” he said. “There’s something missing…but what? What? Of course! There’s no familiarity with the concept, so there can be no deconstruction at this particular…hmm.” He trailed off, lost in thought. “Watson, after I say who is at the door, repeat the name I give you, adding the word ‘who.’”
    â€œAll right, Holmes.”
    â€œKnock, knock.”
    â€œWho’s there?”
    â€œSherlock.”
    â€œSherlock who?”
    Affecting a perfect Irish accent, Holmes replied, “Sure, lock the door so I can’t get in.”
    I laughed. Heaven help me, I laughed. I have never seen Holmes’s face so lit up as when he heard that laugh. It worried me.
    And so it was for the days leading up to Holmes’s debut as a standing up comedian. Just as I was growing accustomed to his prolonged absences, he would launch himself from his study talking about the science of eliciting laughter. If you have never had to sit through such a lecture, I can tell you it is