| “Who are those guys?” “Why are they chasing you?” “Who are you?” I’m greeted by an avalanche of questions. “I am an attorney,” says I, “and . . .” “Ohhhh.” The whole crowd acts like the deadly intent of my pursuers is perfectly reasonable. Then they start looking at watches, clearing throats, remembering important appointments, and begin excusing themselves. At this point I do a great thing for myself. I get a laugh in Thaliopolis. “No, no. I’m only telling you I’m an attorney so you’ll know I can be trusted.” Well, you’ve seen little kids when they’re delighted with something. They just open their mouths and this big sound comes out. It’s kind of scary with little kids, but when a group of grown Thaliopolitans laugh like that, it makes your hair stand on end. I’m somewhat taken aback. I was speaking in perfect seriousness. Of course, perfect seriousness is always good for a laugh. It’s a great way to introduce myself to these people, no matter what. I get offers of places to stay, and at least two proposals of marriage, but I put them off. My immediate need is to see the Duke. I express this to the assembled multitude. “Too late,” somebody volunteers. “The Duke died six months ago.” “No, no,” I insist. “The new Duke.” An elderly lady grabs me by the lapel of my toga. “This new Duke,” she croaks, “is the only stupid joke the old Duke ever made. Funny, yes, but stupid.” It can’t be what she says. Maybe it’s the way she says it. The people howl. “But I’ve got orders,” I tell them. “Orders? No doubt! Odors, too . . .” These people are cracking themselves up. Very annoying. Hurtful, too, since I’m somewhat worse for perspiration after my little jog into town. Suddenly the crowd quiets down and makes way for this guy who is all dark looks and depression. He’s the only man I’ve seen so far carrying a sword. Also, he’s the only man I’ve observed wearing a frown. This has got to be Knots. “Who is this?” Knots barks in my direction. One of the guardsmen following Knots elbows his way past his captain, shakes the wrong end of the spear in my face and growls, “Who goes there?” “No, no.” Knots is disgusted and pulls the guy away from me “Yessir.” He snaps to attention. “No, no, no,” continues Knots. “I will interrogate the prisoner. Watch me.” Knots turns to make a terrible face at me and screams, “Tell me your name!” “And it better be funny!” The henchman is on me again, shaking the nonbusiness end of his spear in my face. “Fall in, you nitwit!” yells his commandant. The nitwit falls in. The people begin to titter. Knots digs at his eyes, and pinches and twists the skin on the bridge of his nose. He mutters, “Speak when spoken to, soldier. Until then, SHUT UP!” The crowd snickers and snorts. “And you noncombatants, SHUT UP!” The noncombatants really start to laugh right out loud. Knots draws his sword. This is to me a threat, but the people hoot with glee as they back away. Knots hacks at the dirt growling “Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!” His guardsmen start to yelp like hounds. Everybody but Knots and me are laughing hysterically. People are leaning on one another. Others are actually rolling in the dirt. “You people are hopeless!” Knots stomps off, pushing his way through the crowd. I’m so absorbed in this scene that I practically forget my purpose. Then an elderly person of the male persuasion touches my elbow. “Come with me, Mr. Lawyer,” he says with a weary look on his puss. “Let’s go see Toody.” |
| Ancient Greasepaint Copyright 1990 Louder Than a Lie Publications, LLC and David Keith Johnson All Rights Reserved |