Home > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

It was two in the morning when I woke with a start.

I didn’t know what it was. The Murray was quieter than hell. Then, suddenly, I heard it. Some kind of low moan coming from the back parking lot followed by a high-pitched slow squeak.

There was a little bit of the gin left on the nightstand and I finished it off.

Go back to bed Oakes.

But I was up now. I threw on a pair of shorts and went down the back staircase. Tibbs hadn’t even bothered to put a light on. I had to feel my way down four floors.

A dim hallway led to the rear door. I passed the kitchen and the laundry– both had a stillness to them that bothered me but I couldn’t make nothing of it. I reached the door and threw it open.

Tibbs was out there in his white suit, drenched in sweat. His back was to me.

“What do you say there, Tibbs?”

He turned. He was terrified, there was no getting around it. There was some kind of an inflatable beach ball between his legs and a bicycle pump in one of his hands.

“Mr. Oakes,” he said in a voice not his own. He was breathing heavily. “I have, tonight, reached the seventh emanation of the divine hierarchy between Earth and the Godhead.”

I watched the sweat pour off his face and spot the white suit.

Tibbs, Sr.

Tibbs, Sr.

“Each of the twenty-two letters of the ancient Lankvillian alphabet have their own number and are added together in words to make metaphorical sympathy, you understand, Oakes.” He bent over suddenly and squeezed the beach ball between his knees. That was the high-pitched slow squeak, I realized.

“It’s nearly there now, Oakes. Nearly to the…”

He exhaled a series of increasingly urgent breaths.

“Nearly to the eighth emanation.”

He bent over and used the bicycle pump on the beach ball until it was full. Then, he held it up to the pale moonlight. The pump fell to the ground.

“Here. Here. Take it.”

He stretched the ball towards the sky.

“Take it. Please. Please take it.”

He must have stood like that for five minutes.

Finally, he dropped the ball.

“It’s not to happen tonight.”

He bent to one knee and began sobbing. Then, he stood up and angrily threw the pump over into the next yard.

I slipped back to my room.

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