The Day With My Ventriloquist

“And the top prize is to spend the day with a ventriloquist,” my mother told me, Proudly. She was the organizer of the carnival, and thought this up herself. What the heck? I had bought fifty raffle tickets. I wanted a new car or rent money. Certainly not a whole day with that old geezer. The old geezer worked the church carnival like a new groom. He was everywhere, charming everyone but me. I was in pout mode. And of course I won top prize. He called me six times to make a date. I finally relented, reluctantly. Thinking what a horrible day it would be, a wasted Saturday. Within minutes of meeting him I discovered something right away. The ventriloquist looked old, but he was younger than me in attitude. He was playful and fun, more like a twelve year old boy than a sixty-two-year-old grandpa. I missed my twelve year olds, they had dumped me long ago. Choosing their friends over their mother. Within the first two hours, I had laughed harder than I had Laughed in six or eight years. We did only the things I wanted to do. He showed me how to throw my voice, but I was not any good. We did not care. He asked me what I wanted to do. I wanted to go to a pawn shop. I had never been to one, and so we went. We ate lunch at my favorite restaurant, and he insisted on paying. In the afternoon when we said our goodbyes, I hugged him hard. It was one of the best days of my life. And the last day of his. I think of this often, and How glad I am that his cheerful playful spirit changed my hardened attitude. Submitted to Anthony Slausen's Ventriloquist Contest June 19, 2018