Adventures in Ventriloquism

Back in the day, when I was strapped for cash, I would do anything short of robbing a bank for some money. I took bets-all sorts of oddball bets that toed the line of indecency and idiocy-from my friends when we met on the weekends, and for a short time it became my main source of income. Having been fired from my one steady job at the Taiwanese take-out, I found myself looking forward to every Friday; as it would mean yet another opportunity to make fifty bucks from snorting mustard off a flame-grilled cheeseburger.

Now, for the majority of our weekly meetings, my good friend Bill took a great liking to inventing incredible tasks for me to fulfill. Each week, he found new ways to top himself-and to further humiliate me in exchange for a portion of his paycheck. There was the time where he made me guzzle a can of seltzer water filled with hobo spiders...the time when he made me streak through the elementary school crossing down by 45^th and Pike Avenue...and his all-time favorite, the good ol' "fake heart attack" I performed on the subway ride back home.

These were the diamonds in his scepter; constant reminders of the power he wielded over me. However, his greatest crown jewel to date would certainly be the most recent gag that we pulled. It was also the strangest thing I've ever done for money, bar none.

"You ever do any ventriloquism, Chuck?"

These were his words to me only a few months ago. When I shook my head, he presented me with a wrinkled ad that looked like it had been hastily torn from a newspaper. It read something along the lines of learning "the mystical and archaic art of the invisible voice" in just five days. Looked like a straight-up scam to me, but to Bill it meant two things:

1) It was a golden opportunity to send me on a one-horse ride through hell, and
2) He was going to cough up at least $350 for the cheap laughs.

Trust me, if I didn't need the money so badly, I would have brushed him off and told him to take a hike with this ridiculous scheme of his. But, I did in fact need the cash, so I had to abide by his plan-his wonderful, horrible plan.

"Here's the deal, Chuck: you take the class for the full monty, all of five days. You learn the basics, cover the main aspects of workin' a dummy's jaw-"
"And you'll give me $350 straight up?" I chimed in.
"Not so fast there, buddy boy. I don't want you to think you can coast...so I want you to write about what you learned."
"Write about it...?"
"Yeah, since you've always got your hands on the keyboard, I wanna read somethin' funny. If it makes me laugh, the money is yours."
"Is that it?" I asked breathlessly.
"Naw. I wanna see you at a stand-up comedy show."

At this point, he slapped a second ad on the restaurant table.
"...So when you're through with your lessons, you can show off what you know."
I glanced at this second flyer with mounting horror.
"Take the classes. Perform at the comedy club-I've already booked it so you'd be guaranteed an appearance. You can even keep the money they give you for your services. Just do that stuff, and you'll be certain to walk away with $350 in your pocket," Bill explained.

To this day, I'm certain that I was the real dummy in this situation.

Anyway, since it's been a few months and I'm still alive, I figured I would share the delightful experience with everyone at last. I'll also be elaborating on how that wonderful comedy act went. (Hint: It made me want to kill myself.)

The first thing that I learned about ventriloquism is that a ventriloquist is only as good as his dummy. By that, I mean the dummy has to have a great personality-moreso than the ventriloquist himself. I'm being completely serious here, folks: to name your dummy something stupid and put zero thought whatsoever into his "act" is to commit showbiz suicide. You need a good gimmick and a good follow-through. You know, it's what some guys in the ventriloquism business call the "sucker punch." If you ain't got that strong left hook, then you ain't got nothin', kiddo.

Don't give your dummy a name like "Chuck Norris" or "Cheese Monkey." People hate when you pull half-dead memes out of your ass like that. Instead, go with something that is not only original, but somehow traditional enough for a woodblock with a mouth to have. Something like "Snots" or "Dandy Jones" works well. Full names like "Scotty McBoozehound" also will delight audiences, too. For my own purposes, I settled on christening my dummy Dickie Hemingway. It just seemed to fit for something that would become so ridiculous in its own right.

That was the easy part. The hard part was learning how to stiffen my lips and contract my throat in such a way that it would be feasible to "throw" my voice all over the place. The key here is to not throw it too far-I received a phone call after practice from a housekeeper who lived about eight blocks away from the ventriloquism encampment. She was awfully concerned about why her carpet seemed to be cracking jokes about blondes. She certainly knew where to call in the event of this supernatural occurrence; it turned out that things like this happened quite a bit, and the residents around the ventriloquism training grounds had gotten used to it.

Apparently, learning to "throw" your voice is less about the strength of your diaphragm and more about how well you disguise the fact that you are the origin of the speech. You don't have to make like Blackagar Boltagon and bring down the house with sonic boom; all you need to be sure of is that the audience can hear the voice and become perplexed at the source of it. It took about four days to become a little more than an amateur at this, but I was confident that I could improve in a short timespan. If you practice long enough, it becomes a third nature.

Another tip I can give you about the mystical art of ventriloquism is related to choosing your topic of conversation. If you pick something interesting, then your act will likely go smoother. Go with a current topic that has comedic potential, like Jerry Seinfeld or toilet paper. If your talking gets too boring, you'll put your dummy to sleep, and everything will go downhill from there. No amount of wood cedar under the nose will wake him up from that, either.

Instead, be prepared to script your lines-and be ready to morph them slightly if the audience starts turning into a pack of jackasses. My experience has taught me that most people suck when it comes to being critics of good comedy, and ventriloquism is no exception. For a guarantee that nobody tries to sabotage your prowess and possibly hijack the show with their pedantic heckling, keep a few heavy objects nearby. Nothing silences somebody better than a hard knock on the skull with a particularly large rock. In this case, I wish I had a more creative solution, but violence seems to be the only viable outlet to express disgust towards the ne'er-do-wells in attendance.

My one and only problem seemed to be team chemistry.

"Hey Dickie, have you been inspected for termites?" I asked.
"Shut up and sod off, you buggering toerag," Dickie spat, rolling his eyes within his caged sockets.

To remedy this, I decided to visit a relationship therapist before the big day of our feature debut. The doctor was very kind and offered us a few tips on how to get along with each other.
"Let's try an exercise: Dickie, you should name three things you like about Chuck," Dr. Goodwin said.
"Let's see here...how about this: He's stupid, he's ugly, and he won't take his hand out of my ass," Dickie answered.
We still needed some work, I guess.

But there was no time to ponder that; the big show was in a day, and I was nervous as one ventriloquist could possibly be. When we finally arrived at the club, Bill gave me a thumbs-up and disappeared through the dressing room door. I was left with nothing but a dummy on my shoulder and a head full of crippling fear.

"We're gonna be awful out there," I confided to Dickie. "Everyone's gonna laugh at us."

I swallowed hard, hoping that we wouldn't be a complete screw-up. I didn't think I'd be able to handle the pressure-I was on the brink of backing out of the act, money and all be damned-

"Up next...please welcome Chuck and Dickie: the wonderful dynamic duo!" the emcee hollered, gesturing to the curtains.
I looked at Dickie apprehensively, who merely pierced into my head with his glassy eyes.
"Right....here goes nothing."
I stepped onto the stage, and settled into the chair that the emcee had placed. I suddenly felt very hot and uncomfortable; I could feel the gaze of hundreds of patrons melting a hole into my stomach. The butterflies in my gut were chewing through my intestines.
"Um..." I stuttered, looking to Dickie for support.
"Ain't he a dummy?" Dickie whooped, laughing jubilantly. "What a randy fellow this one is. I tell you lot, he's had his hand up my backside for a fortnight-and all I got was this button-down shirt!"
A few members of the audience in the darkness began to laugh. I started to slip into the groove that Dickie set before me:

"Hey Dickie; I heard you got some action last night. But didn't you lie to her about your STD-free lifestyle?" I asked.
"Yeah, I lied. Now she's got the herpes-and the splinters, to boot."The crowd started to howl now, appreciating the dummy's puerile humor. I began to breathe easily, and winked at Dickie through a sweaty squint of triumph. He winked back, and began his next joke.

The rest of the night went by in a flash, and I was beginning to think that we'd come out of this in one piece. As our time on stage waned, I began to think about a possible career in ventriloquism. Hell, if I'm doing this good on stage, maybe I wouldn't have to take up stupid bets anymore!

...Yeah, right. Although. We did make out pretty good in the club, I accidentally left Dickie on my radiator and the paint from his face melted off. His hand also splintered off when I used him to shoo away pigeons from coming into my apartment window. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, I suppose. Luckily, the Lord also giveth a great experience unto me. I learned a lot about the rigors of ventriloquism and all the hardships associated with supporting a total dummy. (Besides the dummies in my office, of course.)

Unfortunately, I still have trouble coming up with the rent, and it looks like I'm back to sniffing glue for twenty bucks.

...At the least, I can curse at people on the subway without moving my lips. And that's priceless.