Chapter 19
Short Straw: JiNgLeS Doesn’t Need ID
It was Halloween—October 31st.
This story makes no sense unless that is clear.
My husband, dressed as Bob Dylan, was taking our son, Patrick, trick-or-treating.
Walking out the door wasn’t quick when you lived on base.
There were rules to Trick-or-Treating that the kids had to be drilled on.
Then, everyone’s ID had to be found.
No one was allowed to leave housing unless they carried military identification.
The military was big on family safety.
Robert made me sew a special pocket in my costume.
I had no excuse to forget it.
Patrick was ‘Lightning Boy,’ a hero who existed only in his mind—but to him, he was real.
Using royal blue satin from the base fabric store, I made him a custom shirt with a bright yellow lightning bolt and a matching cape.
Although he talked about it constantly, this Halloween was the first time he wore it.
His dad was leaving early to pick up Patrick’s friend Brant, and we still had plenty of time before dark.
My job was to hand out candy at the house.
I was a clown: JiNgLeS.
When I was young, I was an animal balloon making roller-skate-wearing type clown that hung out near nursing homes and school carnivals.
My roller skates were now half a size too small—I could fit into them, but I shouldn’t.
I saw my daughter’s rollerblades on the floor in the living room.
They were a half a size too big for me.
At least that was the right direction.
I asked her if I could borrow them.
“You aren’t going out like a clown with those roller blades on, are you?”
“That was the idea.”
“It’s hard to stop in them.”
“How fast can I go? I don’t think it will be a problem.”
I’m not certain why she said yes.
Perhaps it was because five minutes before, dressed as a clown, I was literally forcing her to do her math homework.
Of all my adventures, clown-costume math tutoring was my biggest regret.
The fifty bells tied to the cuffs of my outfit at the wrists and ankles was my second biggest regret.
I sat down beside the track with my backside in the grass and my feet on the pavement.
Shadow sat patiently on the track beside me while I pulled on Jane’s rollerblades.
Jingle.
One strap.
Jingle, jingle.
Second strap.
Every movement made the bells sewn all over my costume answer back.
Jingle. Jingle. Jingle.
I tightened the last buckle and looked up.
The park had stopped.
People on the track had slowed to a walk.
A couple standing by the fence had turned completely around.
A runner had actually paused mid-stride.
They were all staring at me.
For a second I couldn’t figure out why.
Then I remembered.
White face.
Full clown-suit.
I was sitting there ringing like the front door to a Hobby-Lobby.
Well… no backing out now.
I grabbed Shadow’s leash, stood up, and said, “Run, Shadow.”
The moment I stood, the bells exploded!
JINGLE-JINGLE-JINGLE.
Shadow launched forward like he’d been fired out of a cannon.
That dog only had two speeds: fourth gear and no gear.
Reverse had never even been part of the training plan.
“NO!” I yelled.
He ran faster.
“Slow down!”
Which was pointless, because I had never once taught that dog the concept of slow down.
The bells were screaming with every stride of the dog as he pulled me along.
JANGLE JANGLE JANGLE.
Somewhere in the middle of the second lap Shadow glanced back at me.
He realized something was wrong.
I was keeping up with him.
That scared him.
Shadow did the only thing he knew to do to stop me.
He slammed down flat in the middle of the track like a furry speed bump.
I had about half a second to decide.
Run over my dog…
or bail into the grass.
Now, anyone who knows me knows exactly how I feel about grass.
But even I wasn’t going to run over Shadow.
So, I flattened out like a torpedo and launched myself over him.
The bells went from tambourine to full explosion.
WHOOSH—JANGLE—CRASH.
I hit the grass elbows first, stomach second, and the air left my body with a single helpless
“OOF.”
Then everything went quiet.
I just lay there, face down in the grass, bells settling around me.
For a moment nobody moved.
Shadow came over first, sniffing anxiously to see if I was still alive.
Then the MPs showed up.
They were still in their car.
Watching.
No. No, no no.
My ID!
I made a special pocket and walked out without it.
I jumped up, brushed myself off—and tried to brush off the thought about my ID.
Shadow had another idea.
As soon as my skates touched the track, he was off again.
I didn’t last so long this time, but I had a little more control. I recognized shouts from people nearby.
“Look Mommy! It’s a clown!”
“Hey, that dog’s going to get you killed!”
“Charlie, get out of the way! I don’t think that clown is in control!”
It happened much faster this time.
Shadow jumped in front of me and laid down.
Again.
I flattened out and flew.
Again.
And landed.
Again.
“Oof.”
The ringing in my ears stopped.
“Did I die?”
I could hear my voice.
I wasn’t dead.
Shadow came and stood by my head.
I grabbed his leash.
Out of my peripheral vision I saw an MP.
He approached me from the side Shadow wasn’t on.
“Excuse me,” he said loudly.
I quickly flipped over onto my stomach, almost glad when the ringing returned to my ears.
“Sir?”
I was still dazed.
“Yes, I’m going to have to ask for your ID.”
My stomach dropped.
I’m going to the MP Station.
Anyone without an ID waited with the MPs until their sponsor showed up.
Wait.
That’s not just any MP…
This must have been my lucky day.
Or his unlucky one.
“Short Straw? Is that you?”
“Excuse me? Ma’am? You are a woman?”
“How many people call you Short Straw?”
That confused him.
“It’s me!” I said it like I was proud of it.
Like it should mean something to him.
My clown smile was red and painted on my white face, so I was literally grinning from ear to ear.
I thought of using my “teacher” name, Mrs. Jackson, but I wasn’t certain he would recognize that.
“It’s me!
Bubble-Monkey-Spine-Blown-Tire Girl!”
He just stared at me.
“No way!”
He said, returning my smile.
In one motion I was up on my skates, hands open wide,
shaking all over-exploding with the sound of fifty jangling bells.
“WAY!”
“I’ve got to go tell the guys!”
And with that he took off for the MP car.
Leaving me standing there.
Arms open.
Looking like a clown.
“Of course.” I bent down to address Shadow.
“Now they are all going to laugh at me, again.”
I patted Shadow.
“Take me home boy.”
He took the long way home.
I had many more opportunities to speed up, fly through the air and crash.
There was jingling and jangling.
Kids were laughing.
I was sore the next morning when I woke up.
Not sore where I expected.
My shoulders.
As I rubbed them, I thought,
Short Straw never asked for my ID.
Apparently, clowns don’t need clearance.
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