My Father’s Office

My father’s ‘office’ was a fascinating place, especially for my brother, Scooter, and I. It was a dark and dank little room partially walled off from the rest of the basement, back near the coal-fired furnace that had been converted to gas. It smelled of ashtrays and whiskey.

The cinderblock walls had been haphazardly covered with scrap paneling my father had recovered from a junk heap when the neighbors renovated their rec room. An old green vinyl cushioned glider was pushed up against one wall and an old Motorola radio/record player cabinet on the other. Next to the record player was where the Carrie’s Carnal Carnival poster hung.

Down here were my father’s ‘toys and collectibles,’ so to speak. He had, for example, a toy plastic outhouse that could be filled with water. Opening the door would cause the little plastic hillbilly inside to turn around and whizz on you.

There were numerous shot-glasses from bars all over the country. One that particularly fascinated me had a cartoon face painted on the outside of the glass and the eyes painted on the inside of the glass. Whenever you moved the glass, it would look like the little cartoon guy’s eyes were moving.

The toy that gave my father particular glee and my mother endless small heart attacks was his miniature carbide cannon. The breech would be partially filled with water. A powdery substance called Bangsite would be dropped into the water, wait for a second, hit the striker and BOOM! The cannon would go off with a blast, shaking the house to the foundation. I think my father set it off in the basement just to make my mother jump out of her skin. “It keeps her on her toes,” Lucius Van Dyke II would say.

One morning while my father was off to O’Hooley’s Southside Tavern (as usual), my brother and I, bored of the Saturday morning cartoons, ventured down into the ‘office.’ When the charm of the whizzing hillbilly in the outhouse wore off, we pondered the figure in the Carrie’s Carnal Carnival poster.

“D’ya think she’s naked,” asked Scooter.
I stepped up for a closer look. “I dunno, maybe.”
“She’s got big fans,” said Scooter.
“That’s not all she’s got.”
“Have you ever seen a naked lady?”
“Once,” I said.

The side door of the house creaked open. From the jangle of keys, Scooter and I knew it was our father. We zipped out of his office and picked up a couple of old toys, pretending to play with them. We weren’t supposed to go in my father’s office.

Lucius Van Dyke II, stumbled his way down the basement stairs. “Hello boys,” he said as he entered his office.

He took a last puff of his cigarette and crushed it out in an ashtray and collapsed onto the glider causing it to swing back and forth.

“Dad,” said Scooter, “Can we go to the carnival?”

I punched my idiot brother in the shoulder.

“Ow!”
“Lucius, stop that!” said my father. “What carnival Scooter?”
“Carrie’s kernel carnival,” said Scooter.

My father stared blankly at Scooter for a moment and then burst out laughing. “In about twelve years, Scooter. Twelve years.”