The Land Of Laughs

"Which of Father's was your favorite book?"

"The Land of Laughs."

"Why?" She picked an oblong glass paperweight off an end table and rolled it around in her hands.

"Because no one else ever got that close to my world." I uncrossed my leg and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Reading a book, for me at least, is like traveling in someone else's world. If it's a good book, then you feel comfortable and yet anxious to see what's going to happen to you there, what'll be around the next corner. But if it's a lousy book, then it's like going through Secaucus, New Jersey – it smells and you wish you weren't there, but since you've started the trip, you roll up the windows and breathe through your mouth until you're done."

She laughed and bent down to pet Petals, who was resting her chunky head on A

"Yes, it's this terrible habit that I have. Even if it's the worst thing that was ever written, once I get started with it, then I'm hooked until I find out what happens."

"That is very interesting, because my father was the same way. As soon as he picked up anything – even the phone book – he would read it until the bitter end."

"Didn't they make a great movie out of that?"

"Out of what?"

"The phone book." I knew it was a terrible joke as soon as I said it, but A

"Excuse me for a minute, will you? I have to go look at the di

A cardboard shoebox with Buster Brown on the side contained a collection of old postcards. When I thumbed through them, I noticed that many were of European train stations. I flipped one of the Vie

"Di

I didn't realize how hungry I was until we walked in and saw big steaming platters of fried chicken, peas, and mashed potatoes.

"Because this is your first time here, I thought that I would make you my father's favorite meal. When he was alive he was very mad if this wasn't made for him at least once a week. If it had been his choice, we would have had it every day. Please, sit down."

It was a small oval table with three straw place mats. I sat on A

"Yipes!"

A

My fork was a silver clown. His head was bent back and the tines of the fork came out of his open mouth. My knife was a long-muscled arm holding a kind of paddle. Not Ping-Pong or anything like that; more sinister-looking – the sort of thing they smack kids with in English public schools. Saxony held hers up to the light, and they were completely different. Her fork was a witch riding a broom. The tines were the brush part, the shaft the broomstick.

"They're incredible!"

"There are enough for six place settings. I'll show you the others after di

As soon as I started eating, I knew it was going to be a long, long meal. I wondered why I was damned to eat horrible food from the hands of interesting women.

Halfway through the unspeakable coffee, she put her napkin down and started talking about France. Now and then she'd pick up her fork and play with it, ru

"My father loved living in Galen. His parents sent him to America before the war because they were Jews and they were afraid of Hitler long before most people. Father's brother, Isaac, was killed in one of the concentration camps."

"David Louis told me that your father was an only child."

"Do you speak German, Mr. Abbey? No? Well, there is a little German saying that suits David Louis perfectly. 'Dreck mit zwei augen.' Do you understand that? 'Garbage with two eyes.' Some people would translate it 'Shit with two eyes,' but I am feeling charitable tonight." She ran the edge of her fork back and forth over the edge of the table several times. Until then her tone had been calm and amiable, but the "shit" stopped it short. I didn't see her as a woman who cursed much. What came to mind was a picture of Louis in his office, sitting on the canvas couch telling me that bizarre story about A

"Don't you have cats?"

"Cats? No, never! I hate cats."

"Did your father have any?"

"No, He hated most animals. Bull terriers were the only kind of furry beasts that he could stand."

"Really? But then how did he know animals so well for his books?"

"Would you like some more coffee?"

I shook my head so hard it almost fell off. She didn't offer Saxony more tea. I was begi

We stood up, and Saxony led the way into the other room. It was dark now except for whatever came through the windows from the street. It caught edges and half-shapes of the masks, ma

"Father loved the room like this. I used to catch him standing here in the doorway, looking at all of his things in this cat light."

"'Cat light,' eh? Green Dog's Sorrow, eh?"

"That's right. You do know your France, don't you?" She turned on the light, and the things that went bump in the night went back to being things, thank God. I do not like: horror movies, horror stories, nightmares, black things. I teach Poe only because I'm told to by my department chairman, and it takes me two weeks to get over "The Telltale Heart" every time I read it. Yes, I like masks and things that are different and fantastic, but enjoying the almost-real and fearing the monstrous are very difierent things. Remember, please, that I'm a coward.