Lost in the Funhouse Read Online Free PDF Page A

McCoy!”
    Was what Grandma Pearl always told him.
    He never listened.
    He loved to play for her.
    (And for Grandpa Paul and sometimes Grandma Lillie.)
    But most of all for Grandma Pearl, who lost Papu.
    Like him.
    Stanley and Janice noticed that he still had that sad face.
    Somber almost. Sullen.
    Unless he was making those noises behind that door.
    (Or when he hid on them. Him with the surprises always.)
    Or when he was with Pearl. “Cut the comedy, Kid McCoy!”
    “Cut the clownin’, Kid McCoy!”
    Pearl loved it, really.
    Such energy, enthusiasm! A delight!
    Then later the withdrawal, the shell, the lonesome eyes.
    Janice: very concerned, then—
    Preschool teacher said he’s not right maybe.
    Worriedly mentioned “imagination” to Janice.
    Imagination = Delusional?
    Teacher had glimpsed him alone, happily flailing-jabbering.
    Like he was somewhere/someone else.
    Then back again, so quiet again.
    Perhaps and only if she would like….
    The name of a reputable child’s psychologist in the area?
    Little tests could tell things….
    It was probably nothing at all.
    Was what Janice told herself.
    He was four the first time. “When we saw that sad little face, we couldn’t stand it, and we took him for psychological testing,” his mother remembered. “Apparently, he was playacting all the time, really a showman.” Which was to say, he was playacting even for the doctor lady, so how could anyone know the truth? “I would play with the toys the psychiatrist had. There were toy guns. I especially liked this air gun with red Ping-Pong balls. You pump it up and then you shoot it. I used to aim it at the psychiatrist. And she’d say, ‘Now, you don’t want to shoot me with that.’ So I said, ‘Okay.’ “He always left the sessions smiling brightly—as though he had spun good ones in there. His father thought little of such examinations
—since when is imagination a bad thing?
The only conclusion that emerged was that, well,
here
was quite the lively lively mind! But where oh where oh where did he get such fanciful ideas?
    Hi, Howdy.
    Ho-ho! Well, hi, Andy!
    How are you?
    Ho, boy! I’m fine. And how about you?
    I’m fine, thank you. Wow—thanks for coming on my show.
    Oh, well, thank you for having me on your show, Andy. Boy, it sure feels great to be here!
    Well, it’s great having you. You know, Howdy, I was watching you ever since I was a real little boy. I used to every day go into the living room and I’d sit down before the television and turn on your show, at five-thirty. Every day. And I just thought it was great.
    Ho, gosh! Well, thank you, Andy.
    You know, you’re even older than me. Your show came on in 1947, and I was born a couple years after that. So that means I was watching you since the time I could just first perceive images or sounds. Before I ever even knew what a television set was, I was watching you! So, like, you’re the first friend from television I ever had—and probably the closest, I think. And, uh, I always wanted to meet you, and now I finally am.
    Well, Andy, I … I’m glad to meet you, too.
    (Laughter. Why are they laughing?)
    You know, I was once in your Peanut Gallery, when I was five years old. You know? And I was just sitting there, and … I was kind of depressed, because I could see the man who was working your strings. And, I must say, even though I could see your strings and everything—to me you’re just as real as anyone else who’s on this show. And I feel like I’m really talking to a real person. But, anyway, one thing I wanted to do that day—and they wouldn’t let us ’cause there was too many kids—and I always wanted to do this. And I’m wondering if maybe I could. And that was to touch you. Do you think I could maybe touch you?
    Sure, Andy, go ahead—you can touch me.
    Okay
…. (Laughter. What’s so funny?)
Wow. You know, another thing that I always wanted to do was shake your hand. Do you think maybe I could shake your hand?
    Ho-ho! Sure,