The Stardust Lounge_ Stories From a Boy's Adolescence - Deborah Digges [29]
“No,” Steve answers.
“Well, I mighta been known to,” Ed says, laughing.
Ed offers Stephen and me a box open to knives of different sizes and lengths.
“These are just throwing knives,” he reassures me. “See?” He runs his index finger against the blade. “Dull. Now, what you do is choose a knife.”
Stephen and I look at each other. “Don't worry,” says Ed. “It's fun. Go ahead. Choose a knife. Good.” Ed beams as Stephen and I select a knife. “Now, throw the knife at the box.”
Stephen and I look down to the end of the room to an enormous cardboard box—maybe a refrigerator or piano box—with crude faces like a lineup drawn with a marker across the top.
“Why?” asks Stephen, suspicious of being made a fool of.
“Because it's fun,” says Ed. “Because you can get real good at it, use your lizard brain.”
“Lizard brain?” I ask. I'm thinking that we need to get out of here. We won't be rude, but in a moment I will say that we have to go. We'll get the dog and proceed out the suite door and down the corridor …
“Never mind,” says Ed. “We'll talk about that later. Steve, throw the knife. Let's see what you can do.”
Stephen self-consciously aims and throws. His knife hits the board bluntly and falls clanging to the floor. Stephen folds his arms.
“Not bad,” Ed comments. “First time and all.” Ed fires a knife into the cardboard.
“Love that sound,” he says. “You know that thwaktssst… try again.” He offers Stephen another knife from the box. Stephen makes another attempt.
“Now you,” Ed says to me.
“Oh, I can't,” I say.
“Go on, try, Mom,” Stephen says.
“You guys keep practicing,” Ed offers. “I've got to make a phone call. Be right back.”
“But what about our session?” I say. “I mean, shouldn't we talk?”
“Sure, what do you want to talk about?”
“Well, this recent trouble … our lives …”
“Okay, if you want to. Steve, you want to talk about the past?”
“Not really.” Stephen breaks into a grin.
“You know,” Ed considers, “neither do I. The past is the past, right?”
“Maybe we need to be going,” I say. “Stephen should be in school now …”
“Whatever you like. But why don't you throw some knives first. I'll just be a minute.”
“We'll wait,” Stephen answers for us. He would do anything to keep from having to go back to school.
“Good.” Ed pats Stephen on the shoulder. “Good man. Help your mother,” he adds.
“This is crazy,” I whisper to Stephen when Ed leaves us alone.
“I know!” Stephen laughs, his face opening a bit, his eyes tentative.
“Crazy!” I repeat, grinning.
“I know!”
“We agree on that, do we?”
“Maybe.”
“What are we doing here?”
“Dunno.”
“In Amherst, Massachusetts …”
“Dunno.”
“With our dog …”
“With our dog named GQ…”
“In the middle of the school day …
“In the middle of math class …”
“Next to the fire station…”
“While the dog pees on the floor …”
“And you clean it up …”
“Because I'm used to it …”
“And carry paper towels in your pocket…”
“With kids playing Nintendo …”
“Instead of going to school…”
“And taking this guy's car to buy lunch …”
“We're assuming he's a car thief?”
“We're assuming they both are?”
“He said, ‘Don't steal this car’!”
Now we're doubled over in laughter.
“And throwing knives …,” I say hardly able to talk.
“Knives!”
“Yes, knives!”
“Using our lizard brains.”
“Our lizard brains?”
“Our lizard brains!” Stephen stands poised. Between bouts of laughter, he aims and throws. “Here, lizzy lizzy lizzy!” he shouts. The knife hits the box and goes all the way through.
“Throw it, Mom!”
“Me?”
“Yes, you! Throw it! Keep your eye on the target. Okay! Ready! Aim! Throw!”
From In the Shadow of Man:
Mike's rise to the number one or top-ranking position in the chimpanzee community was both interesting and spectacular… . Mike had ranked almost at the bottom in the adult male dominance hierarchy. He had been last to gain access to bananas, and had been threatened and actually attacked by almost every other adult male. At one time he had appeared almost bald from losing so many handfuls of hair during aggressive incidents with his fellow apes
All at once Mike