Dogs Don't Tell Jokes (Someday Angeline 2)

He had chosen his outfit carefully. White shoes, white pants, navy-blue shirt, red suspenders, and the navy-blue homburg that he’d bought at the thrift store after school.

“The talent show isn’t until seven o’clock,” said his father. “Don’t you want any dinner?”

“All the contestants have to get there early,” Gary explained. “We need to go over our entrances, exits, how we want to be introduced, stuff like that.”

If he ate any dinner, he’d probably throw up.

“Well … see you there,” his mother said. Then she kissed him.

“Good luck,” said his father.

“Oh, Dad, I wanted to ask you something,” said Gary. “If there were three birds sitting on a bench, and I shot one, how many would be left?”

“Two.”

“Nope, just one,” said Gary, “The dead one. The other two would fly away!” He laughed. “Oh well, I guess I don’t get the hundred dollars now.” He was still laughing as he walked out the door.

He carried a grocery bag full of the props he’d need for his act. It was rolled up at the top so no one could see inside.

He had lied about having to get to school early. He went to Gus’s house.

“Wow, you look great!” Gus said when he opened the door.

Gary shrugged. He wished people would stop saying it like that. It made him wonder if most of the time he looked like a slob or something.

Gus’s house reminded Gary of a museum, or more precisely, a storage room in a museum. He looked around with awe at all the objets d’art that Gus had collected over his sixteen years as a garbageman: strange and bizarre lamps, vases, wall hangings, a painting of a dead fish, several road signs, a pirate’s head, a stuffed armadillo, a candle shaped like a lizard …

“Have I ever showed you my law school diploma?” asked Gus.

“You went to law school?”

“No, Kevin David Lally went to law school.”

Hanging next to a velvet painting of a sexy lady and her poodle was the dignified law school diploma of someone named Kevin David Lally.

“I wonder why someone would throw away a law school diploma,” said Gary.

Gus shrugged. “Why would anyone throw away such a great picture?”

Gary looked back at the painting of the lady and the poodle. He wished the poodle would move just a little bit to the left.

“So, you really want to do this?” asked Gus.

Gary nodded. “You haven’t told anybody?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? And you better not either.”

“I won’t,” Gary promised. “Don’t you even want to know why?”

“I figure I’ll find out along with everyone else,” said Gus.

Gary took a deep breath.

“You’re sure?” asked Gus.

“One hundred percent,” said Gary.

Fifty-five minutes later, he was standing outside the door to the school auditorium holding his grocery bag full of props.