hello, everyone, here is finally, the second half of Chapter Two. I did not post on tuesday because we've been kind of ill lately, and a lot had gone on.
for anyone reading, here it is!
previously, on Todd the Spectacular...
a dull moment passed between us, Felix sat up and said chipperly, “This land we’re going to, how do you say it? Miss-ii-sip-ie?”
“It’s an eee, not an ie.”
“Thank you, Ingrid.”
“You’re welcome, Felix.”
and now, tune in for the second half of
T T S ! !
ChapterTwo
The King of Jokes
You might have noticed that I’ve written a good deal about Felix. Well, I’ll tell you some more, if you’d like. He’s a vivid character and a good addition to our ‘troop.’ He inherited his blonde hair—so pale it could almost pass for white—from my grandfather, I’ve heard. His blue eyes are like Claudia’s, and Father’s, and Henry’s too. Mine are different though. Mine are like my mother’s, brown with hazel, or more, hazel with brown.
Felix usually bathed his hair in gel, like paint, and smeared it to one side like he had seen the Germans do before. He was a funny fellow.
And he has a way of getting you to imitate himself, too. He doesn’t do it on purpose. When he laughs, you laugh too. And in the rare moments when he cries, you want to cry too.
I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or bad, but I know that when Felix enters a room—well, the only way I could describe it is—his presence demands attention.
And it isn’t even his fault. His attendance screams at you to notice.
It’s odd, I know.
Now, Felix was devising another way to cheer us up. He rubbed his hands together gingerly and said, “I know what we can do. Let’s play a game.”
Henry tried to object but Felix persevered. “I’ll begin a story, and then each of you will have to add a piece. I’ll go first, then Henry, then Ingrid, and then Claudia.”
“I’ll begin first because I’m at the start of the circle, not you,” Henry declared with authority. He then shook his head like he always did when he was cross.
“Vey well. Cranky Henry starts first.”
“Thank you, Felix, for your brief demonstration of stupidity. Once upon a time there was a girl. A very pathetic and particular girl. She liked noodles and caviar.”
“Caviar?” Claudia beamed. “I’ve always wondered what caviar is—”
“My turn, Claudia,” Felix interrupted. “One day she skipped along a path, slurping noodles and caviar and beaming bright, when she came across a boy. And this boy liked to tell jokes. Really, really, bad ones.”
My shoulders drooped. Felix was simply pulling a signature move and putting himself into his own story. What jokes has he come up with now?
“What kind?” Claudia leaned forward excitedly, and her gold curls bounced on her shoulders.
Felix shrugged casually and leaned back. He amused himself by watching such anticipation come from his sister. He must’ve thought he was so clever.
“When is a door not a door?”
“Felix—” I objected.
“Wait, I want to hear this,” Henry shushed me. “Go on, Felix. I want to know if your sense of humor has improved since the last hour. What’d he say?”
“When it’s ajar,” Felix choked out. Then he went wild with laughter. I thought of one gagging over smiles and sunshine. My lips twitched. I told you, Felix could make others want to laugh if he did.
He threw his head back into the seat and started wheezing.
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Felix, knock it off.” I surprised myself by how much I sounded like Father.
“Wait, I have another one. Why did the scarecrow get an award?”
“I don’t know, why do scarecrows ever get awards?” I implored, inwardly fighting off my impatience. At least he was laughing and not crying.
“Because he was outstanding in his field!” Felix went down into a wild fit of hysteria, joined now by Claudia.
“You’re just as bad as Felix,” I told her, laughing myself.
Henry leaned back and actually looked rather pleased. “Let him have his fun,” he said contentedly.
I watched my brother laugh for a good three minutes, and then I, too, had an idea. A joke. A small riddle. I tapped my fingers on the table between us. “I have one.”
Felix and Claudia eased their way out of laughter and looked at me. “You have one?”
I felt nervous. I glanced at Henry. “Yes, I have one.”
“Well then,” Henry looked at me and waited. “Impress me.”
I cleared my throat. “What did the grape say when it was crushed?”
The children were silent, all of them. Felix scratched his head. “Curious,” he said. “I’ve never heard this one before. Me, the king of jokes.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Claudia declared with amazement.
“Tell us then,” Henry told me. “We’re waiting.”
“Yes, please!” Claudia begged.
It was strange to have my siblings beg me for something. Information, anything.
“Wait just a moment, Claws, I want to figure it out,” Felix insisted. After another long moment’s silence where we sat and watched Felix tug at his hair and mutter under his breath, he gave in at last. He slumped even deeper into his chair, disappointed in himself.
I felt sorry for the boy.
“What did he say?” he grumbled miserably.
“Nothing,” I shrugged. “He just let out a little whine. You get it?” I looked about the boys and the girl beside me, anxious for their reply. “Don’t you understand? Whine? Wine?”
“I suppose you think that’s very clever and superior to my jokes,” Felix said with dignity.
“It is a little, if I do say so myself.”
Everyone laughed, the little train room bumbling with amusement and fun, all of us, except for the king of jokes. He crossed his arms and sat high up on his throne. After we kept laughing, he even frowned at us like a mother might do to a dog.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “It’s not that funny,” he lamely tried to convince us.
“Come now, Felix. That’s funnier than your jokes,” Henry poked his shoulder.
Impossible, I thought. Henry really said something laced with a bit of kindness toward me. I repaid it back at once with a sincere, grateful smile.
Felix raised his hands in defeat and chuckled once more, his old self shining through again. When Felix was happy, I was too, and almost everyone around us was as well. Felix was a ray, or should I say, a flame, that burned everyone he touched. Burned in a good way, I mean. A radiant way.
I beamed at him as my mother used to do, when we finally made the right decision on our own and she was pleased for us.
“I must say, Felix, I’m awfully proud.”
“Oh, stop.”
I laughed.
We all did.
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