He often made up jokes in the shower. He’d stay in there until all the hot water was gone, and then suddenly have to quickly wash himself under the freezing spray.
He never decided beforehand what his jokes would be about. He’d just start talking, and out they’d pop.
Wednesday was October 31, Halloween. He might have guessed he would make up jokes about ghosts or witches, but instead, on Halloween night he made up a Christmas joke. He thought it was his funniest joke yet, but then again, they were all hilarious.
He had no doubt he would win the talent show.
“Either that, or I’ll totally flip out and turn into some weirdo or something. Just sit in a corner and pick my nose all day.” He laughed. “Or maybe I’ll shave my head, get a machine gun, and blow away half the school. Ha. Ha.”
As they bury the dead the newsmen try to figure out why a young lad, only twelve years old, would do such a horrible thing.
“He seemed harmless,” says a classmate.
“He didn’t have a lot of friends. He kept to himself.”
“He didn’t like baseball cards.”
“He liked to tell jokes. I guess we should have laughed.”
“I guess we should have laughed,” repeats the TV newsman, in a serious and ominous voice.
Even Gary had to stop and wonder about himself for a moment after that one.
“Do you feel like an egg this morning?” his mother asked him Friday morning when he came down for breakfast.
He looked at her curiously. Was she testing him?
Do you feel like an egg this morning?
I don’t know. How does an egg feel?
Do you feel like an egg this morning?
Just call me Humpty Dumpty.
Do you feel like an egg this morning?
Yes. You better not drop me. I might crack.
“No thanks,” he said. “I’ll have cereal.”
On his way to school, he suddenly stopped right in the crosswalk in the middle of the street in front of Floyd Hicks Junior High. He looked at the two-story building, the kids in the schoolyard, the buses in the parking lot. Until he stopped telling jokes, he’d never realized just how much he hated school.
A car honked at him.
He didn’t move.
Another car sped around him.
Why’d the Goon cross the road? he wondered.
“I don’t have a dog, but I’ve always wanted one. So I got a goldfish. His name’s Rover.
“I’ve taught him to fetch a stick. You know how some people throw sticks in the water for their dogs to chase. I throw a stick out of the water for Rover to chase.”
Gary stepped down from on top of his chair.
At first he thought a fish named Rover was a great idea, but now he couldn’t think of any more jokes. That was okay. That happened. He just had to go on to something else. Maybe a fish joke would pop into his head later. Maybe when he was sleeping. Sometimes when he woke up in the morning, he’d suddenly think of a new punch line for a joke he had started the night before.