Part 3 (1/2)
My Old Man could never figure out how they knew, especially since they only called him OCCUPANT OCCUPANT. Day after day I watched our mailbox. On Sat.u.r.days when there was no school I would sit on the front porch waiting for the mailman and the sound of the yelping pack of dogs that chased him on his appointed rounds through our neighborhood, his m.u.f.fled curses and thumping kicks mingling nicely with the steady uproar of snarling and yelping. One thing I knew. Trusty old Sandy never chased a mailman. And if he had had, he would have caught him.
Everything comes to he who waits. I guess. At last, after at least 200 years of constant vigil, there was delivered to me a big, fat, lumpy letter. There are few things more thrilling in Life than lumpy letters. That rattle. Even to this day I feel a wild surge of exultation when I run my hands over an envelope that is thick, fat, and pregnant with mystery.
I ripped it open. And there it was! My simulated gold plastic Decoder pin. With k.n.o.b. And my members.h.i.+p card.
It was an important moment. Here was a real milestone, and I knew it. I was taking my first step up that great ladder of becoming a real American. Nothing is as important to an American as a members.h.i.+p card with a seal. I know guys who have long strings of them, plastic-enclosed: credit cards, members.h.i.+p cards, identification cards, Blue Cross cards, driver's licenses, all strung together in a chain of Love. The longer the chain, the more they feel they belong. Here was my first card. I was on my way. And the best of all possible ways-I was making it as a Phony. A non-Ovaltine drinking Official Member.
BE IT KNOWN TO ALL AND SUNDRY THAT MR. RALPH WESLEY PARKER IS HEREBY APPOINTED A MEMBER OF THE LITTLE ORPHAN ANNIE SECRET CIRCLE AND IS ENt.i.tLED TO ALL THE HONORS AND BENEFITS ACCRUING THERETO.
Signed: Little Orphan Annie. Countersigned: Pierre Andre. In ink.
Honors and benefits. Already, at the age of seven, I am Mister Mister Parker. They hardly ever even called my Old Man that. Parker. They hardly ever even called my Old Man that.
That night I can hardly wait until the adventure is over. I want to get to the real thing, the message. That's what counts. I had spent the entire day sharpening pencils, practicing twirling the k.n.o.b on my plastic simulated gold Decoder pin. I had lined up plenty of paper and was already at the radio by three-thirty, sitting impatiently through the drone of the late afternoon Soap Operas and newscasts, waiting for my direct contact with Tompkins Corners, my first night as a full Member.
As five-fifteen neared, my excitement mounted. Running waves of goose pimples rippled up and down my spine as I hunched next to our hand-carved, seven-tube Cathedral in the living room. A pause, a station break....
”Who's that little chatterbox....
The one with curly golden locks....
Who do I see...?
It's Little Orphan Annie.”
Let's get on with it! I don't need all this jazz about smugglers and pirates. I sat through Sandy's arfing and Little Orphan Annie's perils hardly hearing a word. On comes, at long last, old Pierre. He's one of my my friends now. I am In. My first secret meeting. friends now. I am In. My first secret meeting.
”OKAY, FELLAS AND GALS. GET OUT YOUR DECODER PINS. TIME FOR THE SECRET MESSAGE FOR ALL THE REGULAR PALS OF LITTLE ORPHAN ANNIE, MEMBERS OF THE LITTLE ORPHAN ANNIE SECRET CIRCLE. ALL SET? HERE WE GO. SET YOUR PINS AT B-12.”
My eyes narrowed to mere slits, my steely claws working with precision, I set my simulated gold plastic Decoder pin to B-12.
”ALL READY? PENCILS SET?”
Old Pierre was in great voice tonight. I could tell that tonight's message was really important.
”SEVEN... TWENTY-TWO...THIRTEEN...NINETEEN...EIGHT!”
I struggled furiously to keep up with his booming voice dripping with tension and excitement. Finally: ”OKAY, KIDS. THAT'S TONIGHT'S SECRET MESSAGE, LISTEN AGAIN TOMORROW NIGHT, WHEN YOU HEAR....”
”Who's that little chatterbox....
The one with curly golden locks....”
Ninety seconds later I am in the only room in the house where a boy of seven could sit in privacy and decode. My pin is on one knee, my Indian Chief tablet on the other. I'm starting to decode.
7....
I spun the dial, poring over the plastic scale of letters. Aha! B. I carefully wrote down my first decoded number. I went to the next.
22....
Again I spun the dial. E...
The first word is B-E.
13...S...
It was coming easier now.
19...U.
From somewhere out in the house I could hear my kid brother whimpering, his wail gathering steam, then the faint shriek of my mother: ”Hurry up! Randy's gotta go!” Now what!
”I'LL BE RIGHT OUT, MA! GEE WHIZ!”
I shouted hoa.r.s.ely, sweat dripping off my nose.
s...U...15 ...R...E. BE SURE ...R...E. BE SURE! A message was coming through!
Excitement gripped my gut. I was getting The Word, BE SURE... BE SURE...
14...8...T...O...BE SURE TO what? What was Little Orphan Annie trying to say? what? What was Little Orphan Annie trying to say?
17...9...DR...16 . . 12 . . 1...9...N . . K...32...OVA . . 19 . . . . 19 . . LT LT...
I sat for a long moment in that steamy room, staring down at my Indian Chief notebook. A crummy commercial!
Again a high, rising note from my kid brother.
”I'LL BE RIGHT OUT, MA! FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.”
I pulled up my corduroy knickers and went out to face the meat loaf and the red cabbage. The Asp had decapitated another victim.
V
I POKE AT AN OLD WOUND I POKE AT AN OLD WOUND ...I sat staring sorrowfully into my flat beer. Flick, in his best Bartender's barside manner developed over years of sympathizing with despondent drunks, said philosophically: ”Well, chicks come and chicks go. They all want something something from you.” from you.”
I did not answer. He went on: ”Have you ever had an Ovaltine stinger? I'll whip one up for you if you'd like to try it.”
”No, Flick, I'll stick with beer this afternoon.” I was now rapidly approaching one of my Reflective moods.
”Flick, not only was I undone by Little Orphan Annie, but do you remember a girl named Junie Jo Prewitt?”
He stared for a moment out at the Used-Car lot, thinking hard.
”No, I don't believe I do.”