Out of Whack Read Free Page A

jokes.
           This is when my social standing amongst my parents’ friends rose, at least a bit. I was always welcome to share a few of my newest jokes with guests. Of course, I always had to be reminded that a “few” did not mean “forty,” but at least I wasn’t faking my own death anymore.
           Telling jokes that other people had written soon led to writing my own. I guess, due to their historical significance, I should share two or three with you. And I will if you just give me a few minutes to work up the nerve.
     
           [ A few minutes pass. ]
     
           Okay, here are the first two jokes I sat down and wrote out. Hold your stomachs, ‘cause there’s gonna be some guffawin’ tonight!
     
           A little girl walked up to a man. “What are you doing?” she asked. “None of your beeswax,” the man said. The girl said “I don’t have any wax, and besides, I’m scared of bees.”
     
           “Knock knock.”
           “Who’s there?”
           “Seth.”
           “Seth who?”
           “Seth the thermostat on seventy-two. It’s too cold in here.”
     
           Moving onward...very, very quickly...
           When I was ten, an event occurred that was to be the most important moment in my comedy career. It was the nice sunny summer day when I first met Travis Darrow.
           Did I mention that we lived in the suburbs? I don’t think so. Actually, it doesn’t look like I’ve filled you in on any of that geographical stuff that enriches the narrative and makes you feel like you’re really there. I suppose I’d better, just to be on the safe side. I lived in Sharpview, Ohio, which is about an hour from Cleveland. Population 22,000. A nice neighborhood called Slimoor Estates, named after Howard Slimoor, who was less than pleased that we kids liked to call it Slime Estates. I say, if you don’t want people messing with your name, get a name that isn’t so easily messed with.
           I guess I should also point out that when I was ten, I wasn’t quite the stud muffin that you may know and lust after (or wish that your significant other didn’t lust after, depending on your gender preference). Naturally, there was always a degree of stud muffinship in my aura, but at ten it wasn’t as fully developed. It has occasionally been brought to my attention that the words “skinny little dweeb” might be appropriate, but I think that’s an exaggeration. My haircut did fall into the category of “nerdish.” And, well...
           Ah, screw it. I was a total, 100%, card-carrying Dork. That’s right, I admit it. Seth Trexler was a Dork Supreme! Dork, dork, dork! If you saw a picture of me during that time, you’d spit up a larynx from laughing so hard. Send me a letter and $199.95 and I’ll send you one. A larynx, I mean...no way am I sending you a photo.
           So, there I was, skateboarding down the sidewalk, weaving around all the spat-out gum, when I saw Travis in the park. He also fit the “dork” mold. Skinny, braces, red hair sticking up in something vaguely resembling a style, and about a billion freckles. He was kneeling in the sandbox, taping some action figures with a video camera. This bore further investigation. I hopped off the skateboard and walked over to him, causing him to speak what I consider a historic first word to me.
           “Dammit!”
           “What’s wrong?” I asked.
           “Your shadow got all over my characters!”
           I stepped back. “Oh, sorry.”
           “No, move back where you were. I’ll keep your shadow in there. It’s an eclipse. The robot’s solar-powered, and this shuts him down long enough for Vantor to get away. But it’s a quick eclipse, and the robot regains its power in time to chase him across the muck field. You were a little more to the left. Yeah, there. Don’t move.”
           “Where’s the