| Mother, Thalia, Calculotta and I turn around and reenter the palace through the doors of the balcony. The lobby is now lit by huge chandeliers and their soft yellow light reveals to us a startling spectacle. At the top of the grand staircase, a human sized Apollo sits at a high judicial bench. He is decked out in black robes with one of those little white judge’s wigs on his head. At the side of the desk at a low table, Icapus is acting as his bailiff. At the foot of the stairs to the left there is a tiny table surrounded by some rickety chairs. To the right, behind a huge oak desk, piled high with papers, notebooks and files is — Apollo again. At his side, again, Icapus. I rub my eyes. “All rise!” shouts Icapus the bailiff.”This court is now in session. The divine Apollo, god of law, inter alia, presiding. Defendant and his party, please take your places at the low, rickety table to the left of the foot of the stairs.” “Am I the defendant here?” I pipe up. With venomous looks, both Icapuses reply in unison,”You know you are!” Calculotta looks at me. “What’s this?” Mama joins in her inquiry. “Is this part of the show?” “Come on,” I tell them.”Let’s do as he says. I’ll explain later.” As we make our way past the judge’s bench and down the stairs to our assigned low, rickety seats, Toody backs into the lobby to the ground floor entrance, good-byeing and thankyouing as he closes the big door behind himself. We get to the foot of the stairs, as he turns to walk in. The smile on his face freezes, then melts into a stormy frown. “Aren’t we done with this yet?” Thalia goes to him.”Honey, just one more show. Kind of a shivaree.” “Sweetie pie, they’ll shivaree the two of us all night long if we let them. Time to pay the actors and send them home. They have got to be tired. I’m bushed. Not too bushed.” He’s answering his bride’s concerned reaction. “But bushed enough I don’t want to get any bushier.” “This is a court of law!” thunders the judge. “You will be quiet and be seated!” “Really superb,” glows Toody. “You guys are fabulous, really. How did you make those projections — faces in the sky and all? Genius, really. Ah! Two of you the same. Wonderful, and two of the skywriters. Where is the guy painted all red? What a set of muscles on him.” “This is a court of law! I am Apollo the lawgiver.” Toody hams it up. “Yes, and I’m entering an appearance on behalf of the firm of Barnum & Bailey. Your Honor, these proceedings are a circus!” Then straight.”Boys, boys. I can only have so much fun in an evening, the smile lines on my face begin to bruise my teeth, so brushing is murder. Give us a break. Come on, Bedelia.” To my amazement, Toody and Thalia head up the stairs past the judge’s bench and onto the landing. Thalia pauses and turns to me “They can’t touch you if you’re not afraid of them,” she says to me. This is a problem, I think to myself. I’m afraid of them. Mama and Calculotta follow Toody’s cue. “You can stay up if you want to, son,” sighs Mama, “but I’ve had plenty of excitement for one evening.” She, too, starts up the stairs. And then my future bride.”I’ve got lots of plans to make, N. So I’d better run along, too.” She comes close to me and whispers, “We’ll make it legal tomorrow, darling.” She bites my ear very gently. I think how this is probably the last time she’ll ever use her teeth on me. The two mortal women in my life file past Thalia, whom Toody is tugging gently by the hand. “What am I going to do?” I ask her. “Don’t worry. You’re not alone.” The door of the ducal chamber closes on her and her husband. Mama and Calculotta disappear down the hall. I AM alone, as far as I can tell. “Your honor . . .” At my elbow I hear an unfamiliar, but somehow familiar voice. “. . . I’m entering an appearance for defendant on behalf of the firm of Barnum & Bailey. Your Honor, these proceedings are a circus!” I turn to see a man in a lawyer clown suit — huge bowtie, outrageous suspenders, giant round glasses with no lenses, his hair wildly disheveled. He is unloading an equally disheveled briefcase as he talks, pulling out papers, a big salami sandwich, some women’s undergarments, and a rubber chicken. He turns to me. “Sit down my boy,” he says.”We’ve got a case to win.” “Who are you?” I stutter, somehow knowing the answer before he says it. “You know.” “Daddy?” “Daddy’s ghost,” he corrects me, taking me by the shoulders and sitting me down firmly.”Let’s get on with it.” |
| Ancient Greasepaint Copyright 1990 Louder Than a Lie Publications, LLC and David Keith Johnson All Rights Reserved |