Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Speaker at the Home
By Ric Royer
File photo
Recently, we patients were ushered into a large basement auditorium. Folding chairs had been placed in rows along the floor and a lectern had been arranged in the front. Beside it was a large wooden crate of unimaginable purpose.
We were settled into our chairs when Warden Jenness announced a special speaker. There was light clapping as the man, an ugly man, approached the platform.
Immediately, it was apparent that his voice belied his appearance. It was fluid and booming, filling the room approvingly. The lunatics all leaned forward with interest though the speech itself was somewhat vague and mysterious.
Upon conclusion, Warden Jenness approached the wooden crate with a crowbar. The top was pried off and the speaker stared into the breach. After some time, he nodded to Jenness and a table was produced with a series of small white cards.
“I will read your name and when I do,” said the speaker, “I want you to come to the front of the room here where I will personally hand you your doll.” A murmur went up about the room, some of it senseless.
I did as everyone else. My name was called (it was pronounced Roy-sticks) and I sauntered towards the speaker at which time I was handed a doll in a box. “Your doll’s name is Geraldo,” noted Jenness, who was standing by with a clipboard. “He is from Spain. You will find the necessary information inside.”
Back in my room, I removed the doll from its package. Its arms sprung straight out and it had a thick crop of yarny hair and was clad in a bullfighting outfit. The card fell into my lap.
This is Geraldo. He is the son of a bullfighter from Spain. He likes hot milk.
I was puzzled. I put the doll on a chair and commenced with my reading of some Snow Island vampire novels.
I suppose that I fell asleep for a short time for when I awoke, I noticed immediately that Geraldo and his chair had been moved below the window. There was a thick strand of rope next to him and a rudimentary knot of some sort had been tied. I called for the guard.
It was Boggs who answered my call, a giant halfwit from the Islands. I showed him the scene below my window. He expressed some doubt, moved the chair back to its original position and confiscated the strand of rope. That night, I was removed to a basement cell and placed under constant watch for 24 hours.
When I was returned to my cell the next day, I received a visit from Doctor Shovels. He sat down on Geraldo’s chair and moved it towards me.
“I understand Mr. Roysticks (it seemed it could not be corrected throughout the institution) that you did not take care of Geraldo. For example, it is noted here that you did not ask for any warm milk.”
I was befuddled and could not answer.
“If you do not take care of Geraldo within the first hour of his birth, he leaves,” explained Doctor Shovels. “Unfortunately, here you seemed to have failed.”
I became deeply confused by the events of the previous day.
“Well, something will have to be done. I cannot recommend you for another doll.” He made a note on the clipboard. “Also, you will have a terrible, uncooked dinner tonight as punishment.” He left the cell.
I never found out where Geraldo went.
LETTER SACK