Read Online Walt by Ian Stoba - Free Book Online
Authors: Ian Stoba
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Contemporary
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under the piano. It also doubles as my tabletop, writing surface, and ladder for climbing to my bed, which lives up on stilts to preserve precious floor space. Walt was different. He seemed to genuinely enjoy the piano, and admire its multitude of uses.
Walt was now visibly in pain from the intensity of the transmitter. After all, I had built the thing to communicate with another planet, and it had a power supply several dozens of times as strong as the Federal Communications Commission would have allowed. I found myself faced with a real problem. How could I get away from Walt, who was by now following me like a puppy, for long enough to get up on the roof and modulate transformer power? And, if I could even do this much, how could I avoid blowing my cover?
I hit on a plan that was remarkably simple. I was able to get across to Walt with shouting and some impromptu sign language that my roommate, the owner of the lunchboxes, had magical powers. Through living with him, I had been able to slowly become initiated into some of the mysterious powers which my roomie possessed.
I told Walt that each of the lunchboxes helped protect the bearer from a different form of evil or sickness. I told him that children most often carried them because their parents wanted to protect them from harm.
I selected one of my favorite boxes, a red “Bullwinkle”, and rummaged around for some string. I told Walt that I would have to perform some very involved incantations alone and outdoors. I explained to him that the roof of the apartment building was the ideal place for this. However, the magic of the charm would work only if Walt received the box without my coming back inside. Of course it could only protect him as long as he kept it in his immediate physical presence.
Walt seemed to buy the story. Stuffing some basic tools into my pockets, and telling Walt to open the window and wait, I headed up towards the roof.
I spun about twenty feet of twine off of the spool and bit through it. I wedged a screwdriver into the main rheostat of the transmitter’s power amplifier and tied the length of twine to the handle. I carried the loose end of the string with me to the edge of the building.
After waiting what seemed a sufficient amount of time for incantations to have taken place, I tied the handle of the lunchbox to the twine still on the spool. Calling out for Walt, I started lowering the lunchbox to the window of the apartment.
I saw Walt lean out the window. Just as his fingers grazed the lunchbox, I pulled on the string tied to the screwdriver. Miraculously the whole contraption managed to work. Walt caught the lunchbox just as I had the power down to a level where he could still hear the Easybeats clearly but without pain.
Neither Walt nor I knew it at the time, but just a few blocks away, the Easybeats got very nervous. The Easybeats are well known in certain circles for being impatient and edgy. When the power went down on my transmitter, they literally jumped several feet into the air, hitting their heads on a low beam in the ceiling of their boiler room home.
When I had returned to my apartment I found Walt greatly relieved. He looked as I have imagined Hercules must have when he tricked Atlas into holding the world again.
XIII
I t is difficult for me to describe the days following, during which Walt and I were constant companions. I showed him the City and, little bits at a time, exposed him to life as I lived it. We rode the bus to Golden Gate Park to look at the buffalo. We ate adzuki bean ice cream, in a dish with a cone on the side, at Joe’s Ice Cream down on Geary, the street on which I was born. We walked for hours on end, spent whole days sometimes in the museums, particularly the Museum of Modern Art. Walt was fascinated by the paintings, pictures like he had never imagined on Tristan. He completely surprised me during one of our trips by announcing that he might, someday, like to try his hand at painting.
We were,
Walt was now visibly in pain from the intensity of the transmitter. After all, I had built the thing to communicate with another planet, and it had a power supply several dozens of times as strong as the Federal Communications Commission would have allowed. I found myself faced with a real problem. How could I get away from Walt, who was by now following me like a puppy, for long enough to get up on the roof and modulate transformer power? And, if I could even do this much, how could I avoid blowing my cover?
I hit on a plan that was remarkably simple. I was able to get across to Walt with shouting and some impromptu sign language that my roommate, the owner of the lunchboxes, had magical powers. Through living with him, I had been able to slowly become initiated into some of the mysterious powers which my roomie possessed.
I told Walt that each of the lunchboxes helped protect the bearer from a different form of evil or sickness. I told him that children most often carried them because their parents wanted to protect them from harm.
I selected one of my favorite boxes, a red “Bullwinkle”, and rummaged around for some string. I told Walt that I would have to perform some very involved incantations alone and outdoors. I explained to him that the roof of the apartment building was the ideal place for this. However, the magic of the charm would work only if Walt received the box without my coming back inside. Of course it could only protect him as long as he kept it in his immediate physical presence.
Walt seemed to buy the story. Stuffing some basic tools into my pockets, and telling Walt to open the window and wait, I headed up towards the roof.
I spun about twenty feet of twine off of the spool and bit through it. I wedged a screwdriver into the main rheostat of the transmitter’s power amplifier and tied the length of twine to the handle. I carried the loose end of the string with me to the edge of the building.
After waiting what seemed a sufficient amount of time for incantations to have taken place, I tied the handle of the lunchbox to the twine still on the spool. Calling out for Walt, I started lowering the lunchbox to the window of the apartment.
I saw Walt lean out the window. Just as his fingers grazed the lunchbox, I pulled on the string tied to the screwdriver. Miraculously the whole contraption managed to work. Walt caught the lunchbox just as I had the power down to a level where he could still hear the Easybeats clearly but without pain.
Neither Walt nor I knew it at the time, but just a few blocks away, the Easybeats got very nervous. The Easybeats are well known in certain circles for being impatient and edgy. When the power went down on my transmitter, they literally jumped several feet into the air, hitting their heads on a low beam in the ceiling of their boiler room home.
When I had returned to my apartment I found Walt greatly relieved. He looked as I have imagined Hercules must have when he tricked Atlas into holding the world again.
XIII
I t is difficult for me to describe the days following, during which Walt and I were constant companions. I showed him the City and, little bits at a time, exposed him to life as I lived it. We rode the bus to Golden Gate Park to look at the buffalo. We ate adzuki bean ice cream, in a dish with a cone on the side, at Joe’s Ice Cream down on Geary, the street on which I was born. We walked for hours on end, spent whole days sometimes in the museums, particularly the Museum of Modern Art. Walt was fascinated by the paintings, pictures like he had never imagined on Tristan. He completely surprised me during one of our trips by announcing that he might, someday, like to try his hand at painting.
We were,
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