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Part I
He couldn’t help but smile as he stared at the article.
Balki came roaring out of his bedroom, flailing his arms as he clumsily tried to put on his best Myposian vest. “Cousin, I’m sorry I’m running late!” he gasped, as Larry looked up from his scrapbook. “I was organizing the woolballs for my collection of 3D barnyard murals, when I lost all track of time!”
Larry peered at his frantic cousin. “Woolballs?”
“Yeah. They’re like hairballs, except they come from sheep!”
His cousin reeled with nausea over the thought of someone actually collecting something a sheep would cough up. “Balki, that’s repulsive!”
“Oh, no – we don’t check their heart rate until after they give us the woolballs.”
“I’m not talking about their pulse. I’m talking about how disgusting it is to collect something that was not meant to be collected, let alone included in a piece of artwork!”
“Oh, Cousin, that not disgusting is! Using woolballs is a strong artistic statement on Mypos. Disgusting is when you take sheep bile that’s been sitting in the sun for three days and—“
“Ok, ok, ok, ok!” Larry halted, holding his stomach. “I get the picture.”
“Really?”
“Yes. A very, very vivid one. And right before dinner, too – nice touch.”
Balki smiled, placed a hand on Larry’s cheek and shoved, nearly knocking his cousin out of his chair. “Oh, go on with you!” He instantly grabbed Larry by the face and hauled him up to his feet. “Come, the girls are waiting!”
“Ok,” Larry replied, somewhat disheveled from Balki’s manhandling. He adjusted his tie then picked up his scrapbook. “Let me just put this away.”
“What that is?”
“It’s Volume 4 of my articles,” Larry said lightly as he carried the book over to the bookshelf. “I was just perusing some of my work.”
“Oh, Cousin, don’t do that! Why you would want to exploit your hard work for money?”
“No, Balki; perusing, not prostituting. Perusing means reading. Looking over my past work reminds me how well things have turned out for me at the paper.”
“Well, no special bulletin there,” Balki replied. “The Chronicle is lucky to have an infest-laden reporter like you!”
“Investigative reporter,” Larry corrected, as Balki stared into his cousin’s mouth while he pronounced the word again, “investigative.”
“That’s what I did say.”
“No.”
“You are sure?”
“Absolutely.” Larry walked across the room and opened the door.
Balki followed, then stepped into the hallway as Larry locked the door behind them. “Well, it don’t matter. What matters is that Marshmallow and Whirlpool will soon see what a great reporter you are. Before you can say ‘ohki po po lo po’, they’ll make you a partner in their indigestive news team!”
“That certainly would be an interesting turn of events,” Larry quipped at Balki’s last misinterpretation. The cousins climbed the stairs and made their way to Jennifer and Mary Anne’s apartment. Balki knocked on the door once, paused, then knocked again. He looked to his cousin and grinned before he began thumping the wood to a specific beat.
“We will, we will rock you!” he sang. He stopped suddenly and turned to Larry, confused. “Cousin, why those people sing about rocking someone. Are they punishing someone for stealing their chickens?”
Larry looked at Balki. “Actually, the song’s about rocking chairs,” he answered facetiously. “They’re singing to their grandmothers.”
Balki smiled. “That’s so nice. They’re promising to rock their nanas to sleep!”
The door opened. “Hi, guys,” Mary Anne greeted as she let the boys in.
“Thanks, Balki!” Her enthusiastic smile suddenly disappeared. She stared at her boyfriend, then asked blankly, “what does that mean?”
“And you,” Larry said as Jennifer moved over to him, “are a sight for sore eyes!”
“Why, thank you,” Jennifer responded with a smile as Balki looked on in confusion.
“Cousin, if your eyes is sore, why you don’t just put drops in them?”
“Balki—“
“Just be careful to grab the right drops. Last month, I meant to use eye drops but grabbed the peppermint extract instead, and -- ”
“How did you manage to mistake peppermint extract for eye drops?”
“Well, I was in the washroom, and ended up grabbing the wrong bottle.”
“Why did you have peppermint extract in the bathroom?”
Balki paused with a shrug. “How else I give my yak tonsil stew its minty aftertaste?”
Larry turned to Jennifer, who gave him a ‘Well, you started it’ look, then back to Balki. “Ok, ok,” Larry said, squinting as he tried to make sense of this conversation. “Please, please tell me you were merely eating your stew in the bathroom.”
“I was.”
“I had to taste test it after I mixed it all up in the sink.”
“Wait a minute. Hold on now. Are you telling me that the yak tonsil stew – the same yak tonsil stew you made me eat, the same yak tonsil stew I was only able to stomach through some unexplained miracle, the same yak tonsil stew that bore at least eight colors not found in nature – was mixed in our bathroom sink before you served it?”
“Well, of course it was, don’t be ridiculous! That’s how we know it’s ready. When it strong enough is to clean your porcelain—“
“I beg of you,” Larry gagged, “do not finish that sentence!”
“I guess you’re not in the mood for dinner now, are you, Larry?” Mary Anne asked.
Larry glared at Balki. “I may never eat again.”
“I know just what you need, then, to threat your appetite,” Balki announced. “Mama’s special hunger-inducing smoothie. You just take some eel tongue—“
“Stop right there! I draw the line at ingesting anything that has eaten algae!”
“Even if you dip it in stiminiki sauce?”
“Ooh, what’s stiminiki sauce?” Mary Anne asked enthusiastically.
Jennifer spoke up as she noticed the look of nausea appearing on Larry’s face. “Uh, maybe we should talk about something else to get Larry’s mind off of—“ she paused, trying to avoid the topic of yak tonsil stew, “--what he’s trying to get his mind off of.”
“You mean the yak tonsil stew.”
Larry clutched his stomach as Jennifer eyed her friend. “Forget the stew,” she instructed.
“Well, ok,” Mary Anne said helplessly, “but I thought it would be a nice thing to use to get that mildew out of the corner of our shower.”
“Mary Anne,” Larry begged, “please…”
“Oh…..sorry.”
“Well, what you say, Cousin,” Balki began, “are you ready to go?”
“Balki, I think we need to give Larry a little time to digest—“ Jennifer suddenly stopped. “Sorry, Larry – bad choice of words.” She faced Balki and Mary Anne again. “I think we need to give Larry a little time to settle.” Jennifer led her boyfriend to the couch. “Larry, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll go get you some water.”
“Thank you,” Larry burbled.
Mary Anne and Balki joined Larry in the sitting area as Jennifer headed for the kitchen. “So, Larry,” Mary Anne said, trying to get his mind away from Myposian food, “how about this weather we’ve been having? One minute it’s sunny, and the next minute the barometric pressure is falling and creating a ridge of low air flow that brings heavy cumulonimbus clouds and decreasing kilopascals.”
Balki and Larry looked at Mary Anne, then assumed in unison. “Willard Scott once changed your tire.”
Mary Anne’s mouth dropped open. “You were there?”
Jennifer exited the kitchen with a glass of water and a copy of Chicago Weekly magazine. She handed the glass to Larry and sat next to him. “How are you feeling?”
“Bewildered.”
She looked at Mary Anne and read her expression. “Somehow, I can imagine why.” She turned her attention to the magazine, opening it to a marked page. “I almost forgot to show you this. There’s an article here about someone who graduated from Madison Collegiate the same year you did.”
“Cousin,” Balki said, “isn’t that your old Alka Seltzer?”
“Alma mater,” Larry amended.
Jennifer looked at the article. “Apparently, your old classmate is now a very, very successful magnate in the media industry.”
“Really?” Larry accepted the article from Jennifer and began to scan it. “I wonder who it is.”
“I don’t remember the name,” Jennifer admitted, “but the article says she was the Class Valedictorian at both your high school and her university.”
Larry automatically lifted his head as his eyes widened. “Valedictorian?” he repeated intensely. He turned to Balki. “Valedictorian?”
“Oh, po po. That mean it’s—“
“That little tramp Becky Jo Quinn!” Larry growled sharply.
“You know her?” Jennifer asked.
Larry turned back to Jennifer, his eyes flickering as he attempted to hold back a wild frustration he’d been holding since high school. “She was my greatest rival in high school. She made life miserable for me. No matter what I did or what achievement I accomplished, she was always able to just barely beat me. I had the Regional Spelling Bee all wrapped up, but she won it in sudden death with an easy word – I got acetylseryltyrosylserylisoleucyl, and she got pseudopseudohypoparathyroidism. I lost the tenth grade Student Council Presidency to her by four votes. I got a ninety-four on my final geometry exam, and she scored higher by getting the extra credit question about how many pages were in the textbook. That small extra credit cost me the title of Valedictorian, and she got the honor that should have been mine!” He shook his head. “She was my Kryptonite. A real Jezebel. A back-stabber. A two-faced, fork-tongued, black-hearted, slithering, sneaky, shallow little tramp!”
“And she was taller than Cousin Larry, too!”
“Only when she wore those boots,” Larry retaliated. “Or when she was standing on someone’s heart!”
“Larry, did you by any chance date this girl?” Jennifer asked.
“Oh, no. Not on your life. I had no interest in being a devoured alive by that black widow!”
“Besides, Cousin Larry have no girlfriends in high school.”
“As a matter of fact,” Balki reminisced, “I believe Cousin Larry’s exact words were, ‘Girls thought I was a troll and would draw pictures of me dwelling under a bridge and scaring children’!”
“Balki—“
“Cousin, if you are a troll, how come you don’t make trollhouse cookies?”
Larry clasped his forehead with grief. “Her antics even have my cousin driving me crazy!” he muttered to himself.
Jennifer studied Larry’s face. “This really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“I usually don’t bring up her name,” Balki said quietly. “It’s a door stop for Cousin Larry.”
“Sore spot,” Larry corrected. “It’s a sore spot for Cousin Larry, and it very well should be! It wasn’t bad enough that she’d frustrate me with those slim victories, but she always taunted me and made sure I never forgot them.”
“And she turned him down for the junior prom!”
“You asked her to the prom?” Jennifer gaped.
“No,” Larry denied, facing Balki with a cold squint. “I once told her that her face looked like a dried-up plum, but she heard ‘prom’ and assumed I asked her.”
“Gee, Larry,” Mary Anne cooed, “you really have a way with the women!”
“He does just fine with the women!” Jennifer responded in defense. “At least he does with this one!”
“Really?” Balki and Mary Anne asked together with surprise.
“Well, usually.”
“Oh, God!” Larry complained.
“Larry, why does your rivalry with Becky Jo Quinn still bother you so much?”
“Why does it bother me so much? Jennifer, imagine if you lost great opportunities and experiences because someone was just that much better than you,” Larry said passionately, emphasizing his words by holding his thumb and index finger approximately a quarter-inch apart. “Just that much cost me time and time again, and gave that little tramp every chance to rub my face in it!”
“So that’s why he’s so uptight!” Mary Anne concluded quietly to Balki.
“Believe me, Mary Anne, that only a small part of it is!” her boyfriend replied as Larry glared at both of them.
Jennifer garnered Larry’s attention once again. “You know, this article says she’s in town for her company’s announcement of a major acquisition. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go see her.”
“Are you serious? Why would I want to see that….that….” Larry struggled, trying to find the best insulting definition.
“Ichbisabookus?” Balki offered.
Larry turned to Balki. “Is that anything like a barracuda or a shrew or a…..a…..”
“Little tramp?”
“Yes, thank you, Mary Anne.” He faced Balki again. “Or a little tramp?”
“Actually, it’s the fuzzy black stuff that grows on the gummy things you pick out of your toes after you don’t bathe your feet for a month.”
Larry turned to Jennifer. “As I was saying, why would I want to see that ichbisabookus?”
“Well, maybe you need it to move on. Let me ask you, when was the last time you saw Becky Jo?”
“I’ll never forget it,” Larry said with a grimace. “It was the summer after graduation. I was a busboy at some second-rate diner when she walked in just as I was clearing a table right by the door. She snickered and said I’d finally found something where I could reach my full potential. She made sure to let me know she was working as an intern at the local radio station; the same radio station I applied to for a news department internship. Of course, I wasn’t accepted.” Larry’s expression turned into a slight frown as he recalled. “Before she left the restaurant that day, she came over to me and said, ‘See you nowhere.’” He paused. “And that’s where I felt I was all of a sudden. Nowhere.”
“Oh, Larry,” Jennifer sympathized softly as she guided his head onto her shoulder. “You know, it sounds like you need some closure.”
“Why he would need someone to dress him?” Balki questioned. “Benji’s Short and Small Shop already take care of that.”
“Not a clothier, Balki. Closure.”
“What that is?”
“The sense of finality, and coming to terms with an experience, felt or experienced over time,” Mary Anne explained. All three looked at her. “Or maybe it’s that Irish plant with three leaves. I always get the two mixed up!”
“I don’t know, Jennifer,” Larry confessed, “I can’t imagine seeing her again. I mean, I’ve always wanted to beat that little tramp just once…..but she’s a major player in some multimedia conglomerate now, and I’m working in a basement without so much as a nameplate for my desk.”
“Oh, Cousin, so what if she is working with an encyclopedia pomegranate…..whatever that is…..”
“Multimedia conglomerate. She works for a multimedia conglomerate, not an encyclopedia pomegranate.”
“Right. So what if she is working for a Milk of Magnesia condom-erate? You went from busting tables to working at a major neapolitan newspaper! That’s like going from Miss Pig Trough to Miss Mypos! Like going from pauper to the Artist Formerly Known As Prince! Like going from Starsky to Hutch!”
Larry furrowed his brow and looked at his cousin. “What are you talking about???”
“What I think Balki means,” Jennifer interjected, “is that you have a lot to be proud of. You don’t have any reason to feel like you’re second best to Becky Jo Quinn.”
“Then why do I still feel like I’m three feet tall to her ten feet tall?”
“Well, for one thing, Cousin,” Balki said, looking at Larry’s feet, “you’re not wearing your shoes with the lifts; you know, the ones you put on when Jennifer is going to wear heels, so you don’t look her in the nose all night.”
“Doesn’t he look her in the nose already?” Mary Anne asked innocently.
“Well, yes, but when he wears his lifts, he looks at the bridge of Jennifer’s nose, instead of the little nub above her nostrils and—“
“Balki!” Larry exclaimed. “Enough about my shoes and Jennifer’s nose already! The point that I am trying so very, very hard to make here, is that I still feel like no matter what I do, I’ll always be bested by Becky Jo Quinn…..that little tramp!”
“Oh, po po!”
“Oh, go po po yourself!” Larry sighed in exasperation. “And don’t even think of telling me I’m being ridiculous,” he added, mocking Balki’s accent with his final two words.
“Well, you are being ridiculous, not to mention overly-aggressive with your Myposian accent.” Balki looked at Larry seriously. “Cousin, why you do not give yourself enough credit? You are working with Mushmouth and Waterhole, as part of the Chronicle’s intestine-related reporting team. Not many people get a chance to make that stain!”
“Uh, I hope you mean ‘claim’.”
“That doesn’t matter, Larry,” Jennifer said. “Balki’s right. You’ve done so much at the Chronicle and we’re all so proud of you!” She turned to her roommate. “Right, Mary Anne?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Mary Anne responded. She looked at Larry. “You’re a great reporter! And you write about internal organs, too! Now that’s talent!”
“Investigative!” Larry corrected with great frustration. “I’m part of the investigative reporting team! I have nothing to do with intestines!”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Cousin. You always seemed pretty gutsy to me!” Balki laughed out loud, with Mary Anne joining along. He smacked his knees, raised his arms and looked to the ceiling. “Where do I come up with them?”
“I don’t know, but would you please put them back?”
“Come on, Larry,” Jennifer coaxed gently, nudging her beau’s arm. “What do you say?”
Larry looked from Jennifer to Mary Anne to Balki, then back to Jennifer. “I’m still not sure.”
“What are you unsure about?”
Larry sighed. “Past experience, I guess. I just don’t want to end up like I always did in high school – second fiddle to Becky Jo Quinn.”
“But, Cousin, don’t you see,” Balki pointed out, “you’re not the Cousin Larry Appleton from Madison Colgate anymore; you’re Cousin Larry Appleton of the Chicago Chronicle’s domesticated reporting team! You no have to feel second piddle to anyone! And if you no take this opportunity to get clover with Becky Jo, you feel like you never get out of her eyeshadow!”
“Larry,” Jennifer began, “normally I’d tell you that just knowing how much you’ve accomplished and how well you’ve turned out should be enough, and that you shouldn’t have to prove anything. But this really seems to weigh on your shoulders. Maybe you shouldn’t back down from this opportunity.”
Balki leaned in to Larry as he contemplated. “Well, I won’t back down,” he began singing softly, quoting Tom Petty. “No, I won’t back down; you can stand me up at the gates of hell, but I won’t back down—“
“How am I going to get past her victories over me?” Larry asked.
“I’ll stand my ground; won’t be turned around—“
“How do I prove to her that I’ve never been second best?”
Jennifer and Mary Anne looked on, somewhat perplexed.
“And I’ll keep this world from dragging me down; but I won’t back down—“
“If I could just get that one step on her—“
“Gonna stand my ground—“
“Just one moment to show her who Larry Appleton really is—“
“—and I won’t back down.”
Jennifer and Mary Anne leapt to their feet. “I won’t back down,” they sang in support.
“Hey, baby!”
“There ain’t no easy way out—“ Balki crooned as he stood.
“And I won’t back down—“, the girls vocalized.
“Hey, now—“ Larry continued before Balki joined in. “I will stand my ground—“
“And I won’t back down—“ Larry sang alone.
“No, you won’t back down!” Balki, Jennifer and Mary Anne echoed.
“I just can’t back down—“
“No, you won’t back down!”
“And I won’t back down!” all four finished in majestic harmony.
“I’m going to do it!” Larry announced, inspired. “I’m going to see Becky Jo Quinn!”
“That little tramp!” Mary Anne added excitedly.
Jennifer leapt into Larry’s arms with a hug as Balki patted his cousin’s back. As Larry and Jennifer parted, he said, “Thanks to you all, now I’m ready to close that chapter! I am psyched! In your face, Becky Jo Quinn!” All four cupped their right hands as though ready to grab something underhanded, and grunted with enthusiasm as they clutched the air in front of them.
“Then maybe we can celebrate with some yak tonsil stew!” Balki exclaimed. Larry’s excited face drooped into an expression of nausea as he wilted to the couch with Jennifer supporting him. Balki looked down at his cousin. “Too soon?”