By Mike Stevens
“Get up Will, breakfast is ready!” his mom’s voice drifted though his closed bedroom door. Whiz Green grumbled, and turned over. Please, just 5 more minutes! He buried his head under his pillow to block out the light streaming through his bedroom window, but it was no use. He was awake, and he’d have to get up; besides, today was the day that would finally make him stand out from the crowd! He’d wanted something to make him stand out, and he’d finally found it. Going by his nickname, Whiz, hadn’t done it. William Green sounded so pedestrian. But, other than spawning p**s jokes at his expense, he was treated the same, almost invisible. But today, he’d play his magic saw on The Disadvantaged Youth of America Telethon, on cable channel 4,678. Granted, he didn’t really know what he was doing, but how hard could bending the blade on the giant saw really be?
The host of the telethon, Reed Duecer, told him he was on right after the cigarette-smoking, pot-bellied, balding dude wearing a skin-tight Captain Avenger outfit. What was that? Whiz soon forgot Captain Lycra, and focused on his own act. He had his ‘magic’ oversized saw, and was experimenting with making the tortured wailing sound musical. Maybe he should have practiced a little, but it was a little too late now!
Captain Lycra club-footed it by Whiz in a cloud of smoke, then Reed Duecer announced him over the microphone, and he walked into camera range, carrying his saw, and set up. Oh god, it was time to start. He plucked the saw blade, and a sick warbling sounded.
He was floundering, but was unwilling to admit to himself that maybe this had been a bad idea. When he glanced off screen at Reed Duecer, he was running his hand back and forth across his neck. Why, didn’t he get a very good shave this morning? Then he saw (pardon the joke!) Duecer trying in vain to whisper something to him.
“What?” he yelled.
The answer came back with a venomous bark that left no doubt that Duecer didn’t think much of his efforts. Even though he’d heard exactly what he’d said, Whiz was clinging to anything.
When he walked dejectedly through the front door of his house, his mother said,
“How did your little show go?”
He walked by her, and answered, “Don’t ask!”
Now what? The burning desire for recognition still burned strong within him. Damn it, someday the name Whiz Green would be recognized by everyone!