Dogs Don't Tell Jokes (Someday Angeline 2)

Gary’s father sighed even louder. “I am not,” he said. He had a bald spot on the back of his head. “I just would like some peace and quiet so I can watch television. Is that too much to ask? Can I just go fifteen minutes without having to listen to one of your idiotic jokes!”

“All right,” said Gary, “I won’t tell you the joke, even though I already told it to you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Gary. “Anytime. Ha. Ha.”

Gary sat in his room.

He wished his parents could be more like Abel and Melissa, who appreciated a good joke when they heard one. At least they’d be willing to listen, after he worked two hours making up jokes for the talent show—the most important day of his life.

If Abel and Melissa were his parents, he realized, then Angeline would be his sister. She was probably more like a sister than a girlfriend anyway.

He’d always wished he had a brother or a sister. Actually, he wanted a sister named Sally. Then he could call her Saloon.

Of course, before Abel and Melissa could be his parents, they’d have to get married. “That’s stupid,” he said. “They can’t be my parents anyway. I already have parents. Unless they got killed in plane crash or something. Ha. Ha.”

His father never used to hate jokes. In fact, his father had told him the first joke he ever heard. Gary still had a picture in his mind of himself taking a bath while his father told him a joke. He probably was only three years old. He still remembered the joke.

Why’d the chicken cross the playground?

To get to the other slide.

The odd thing was, Gary figured now as he thought about it, he must have heard that joke before he ever heard the joke about the chicken crossing the road. So it didn’t make any sense. But that didn’t matter when he was three. He remembered asking his father to tell him that same joke over and over again for months.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said.

His mother followed his father into the room. Gary didn’t look at them.

“Your father and I have been talking,” said his mother.

“I understand this talent contest means a lot to you,” said his father.

Gary stared out the window at a streetlight.

“I’d like to make a suggestion,” his father said.

“How can you make a suggestion?” snapped Gary. “You won’t even listen to my jokes.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” his father said. “I had a tough day, and I just wanted to sit in front of the TV without having to think.”

“Well, if you had listened to one of my jokes, it might have cheered you up,” said Gary. “Who knows, you might even have laughed. Some people laugh at jokes, you know.”

His father smiled. “Okay, tell me the one about the bald eagle who wears a wig.”

Gary threw up his hands in frustration. “That’s the joke!” he said, trying not to shout. “There isn’t any more.”

“Oh,” said his father. “Well, then how about another one?”

Gary thought a moment. “Why’d the chicken cross the playground?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” his father said, happy to play along. “Why?”

“You really don’t know?”

“No.”