Read Online On the Wing by Eric Kraft - Free Book Online Page B

motel. Put a sock in it for a while, okay?”
    I did.
    *   *   *
    THE PLACE that Albertine had chosen for our night’s stop was not at all what I would have expected. It was one of the chain motels that line the major intersections of major highways and offer little more than a bed. When she turned off the highway, I assumed that she would hurry past the chaotic congeries of gas-food-lodging and send us down a winding lane to the only cozy inn in these-here parts. Enormous signs towered at the edge of the highway, urging the weary traveler to spend the night in a bed provided by the chains called It’ll Do, Inn-a-Pinch, and Cheapo-Sleepo. I chuckled at them in a superior manner, but I choked on my chuckle when Albertine slowed and signaled for a turn into It’ll Do.
    â€œThis is not at all what I would have expected you to choose,” I said. “I’m disappointed, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
    â€œIt has a fitness center, a pool, a cocktail lounge, a restaurant, a free breakfast buffet, and the cheapest rate in a hundred miles,” she informed me. “It was the best I could find.”
    â€œIn these-here parts,” I suggested.
    â€œRight,” she said, pulling into a parking spot with an abruptness that I didn’t ordinarily see.
    â€œOkay,” I said with a shrug. “I guess it’ll do in a pinch for a cheapo sleepo.”
    â€œHa-ha,” she said.
    We took our bags from the car and rolled them to the entrance, where, as soon as the doors slipped open to let us in, a clerk at the desk looked up, bestowed on us a practiced smile, and recited a scripted greeting: “Welcome to the It’ll Do experience! We hope your stay will be okay!” Then he shook his head and added with a weary sigh, ad lib, “Please—please—don’t try any funny stuff.”
    â€œWhat?” I said, surprised.
    â€œI’ve been checking you people in all day, and I’ve had all the gags I can take.”
    â€œI don’t know what you mean.”
    â€œI’ve heard that one, too.”
    â€œI’m mystified,” I said. “Is this the standard greeting across the entire It’ll Do chain? If I walk into an It’ll Do in Sheboygan—”
    â€œYou know,” he said, holding up a hand, “just stop right there and let me ask you something—why is it always Sheboygan? What is it with you people that makes you choose Sheboygan when you’re going to try to be funny?”
    â€œI—”
    â€œIs it supposed to be an announcement? ‘Attention! Attention! A joke is coming!’”
    â€œI—”
    â€œOr is Sheboygan just supposed to be innately funny?”
    â€œI—”
    â€œOr is it the entire state of Wisconsin?”
    â€œPlease,” I said, “stop. I don’t know why you’re asking me these questions, or what you mean about being funny—”
    â€œYou’re here for the annual Humorists’ Hoop-de-Doo, right?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “Certainly not.”
    â€œYes,” said Albertine. “We are.”
    â€œWe are?” I said, surprised again.
    â€œBy joining the Heartsick American Humorists’ Association we got a tremendous discount,” she informed me.
    â€œBut who’s the humorist?” I asked.
    â€œYou are, my darling,” she said, handing a membership card to the clerk. “You crack me up.”
    The clerk began to snicker as he tapped us into the computer. “You guys are pretty good,” he said.
    *   *   *
    WE UNPACKED. We showered. We dressed for drinks and dinner. The cocktail lounge and bar were quite crowded, offering the possibility of an interesting conversation if we could pick the right people to sit next to, though the choice was likely to be forced because there were so few places available. Two stools were empty at the bar, but they were separated by