a nose for news

The place was Shakey's Pizza in Westmont, on or near Ogden Ave. Maybe. The time, way long ago. When Joe was the size of a toenail. When he was still biting strangers on the ankles. We, kids and Dad, went out for pizza and Mom stayed behind. Prior to leaving the house, I had seen a television show that involved some bad comedians: one guy with a bag on his head and one guy who stuck nickles up his nose. I liked the way that sounded, the 2 n's, so I made sure to remember it so I could use it at a moment's notice around other like-minded individuals such as myself.

We walk through the door, past the plastic partition where you can actually see the pizza makers make what you're about to eat. Most of the time, they are boring and frustrating to me for not living up to their entertainment potential. We head back to the picnic tables covered with red and white checked oil cloth, near all of the games, the race car game, the pinball machines, some kind of shooting game, and a dumb crane that allows you to pick out a plastic doll or a sub-quality stuffed animal. Wow. We order and wait for our pizza. The wait feels like a long time. Dad gets to talking to some guy who's also waiting to eat. What they talk about is unimaginably dull, dull, dull. So dull that we cannot bear to sit nearby and listen. We beg some coins from him to occupy ourselves with the games. And that's when I say to Mike, using reverse psychology, "Whatever you do, don't stick a nickel up your nose."

He shoves one, two, maybe three or four up his nose. Ha ha ha we're laughing. We look around. No one notices us. Dad is relentless with his talk with the guy. He's a goner. Mike pulls nickel one out without many problems. Eventually pulls out the second. But the third is jammed up there. I think we eat our pizza then, Mike included, though fully aware of the coin stuck in his nasal cavity. We say throughout dinner, "Dad, Mike's got a nickel stuck in his nose." He's oblivious still. The man and he are talking about cars. Nothing left to eat or do, we go wander around the game room since we used up all of the money before dinner. Mike is sneezing at this time, hawking up everything but the nickel. He works his way past the driving game to the crane, leaving snot all over each screen. I recall someone trying to play one of the games but too grossed out once he sees Mike's contributions. Mike is hawking, sneezing, snorting, snorking. We're pulling at Dad's sleeve. We're stomping on his big black clown shoes but his toes are numb. Dad, Mike's got snot everywhere. Nothing.

Finally, the strange man leaves. Dad is out of things to do. He recognizes that we are his children and that he should probably gather us up and bundle us back home. Wait, what's this? He learns that his son Mike has a, what?, a nickel stuck inside of his nose. He grabs napkin after napkin and wipes Mike's nose. He makes Mike look up into the light to sugically remove said coin, but realizes that all of his keys and tools that he carries in his pockets don't fit up his nose or are able to do the job.

We head out to the car. We kids are strangely quiet. The car takes forever to warm up. We drive in the dark down Ogden, when Dad pulls into a Jewel food store. There are five cars in the huge lot, and the lights inside of the store are dimmed. "They're closed," I forewarn. "You won't be able to get in." Dad pulls up to the front, gets out, raps his keys against the glass window until someone inside the Jewel huffily explains that They Are Closed. At this point, I'm feeling pretty smug and powerful. And then Dad talks the guy into letting him in the store to buy something. What is he getting? He walks out with a small package, opens it and yoinks Mike out of the car. They're standing underneath a huge street light. Mike is looking up and Dad pulls out a new pair of tweezers. I notice that there are about 5 workers inside of the Jewel who are cupping their eyes against the window to see Dad pulling a wet nickel out of Mike's nose. The workers make clapping motions. We clap inside of the car, though I am also totally embarrassed.

The moral of the story? I have great psychological powers over people, as long as I know how to use them. So Mike? Have a really crappy birthday.