Buddy Boy

I whirled around at the unmistakable voice.

"Jim! Long time no ..."

"Whatcha been up to, Bill?" he said, smiling and extending his hand. "I didn't know you were coming to town."

I reached out and shook his hand.

"May I join you, or are you two busy in deep conversation?" he asked, winking and then exploding in a belly laugh that caused more than a few heads in the hotel restaurant to turn our way.

I glanced at the chair adjacent to mine, where my partner Buddy Boy was seated, immobile as usual.

"Sure, we'd love for you to join us," I said.

"Yes, please join us," said a high pitched voice in that cheerful, lilting tone that had turned Buddy Boy into an overnight sensation.

"Well thank you," said Jim. "I've never eaten with a celebrity before."

"I'm still just Bill," I sighed. "Buddy Boy here is the one getting all the fame."

"That's what I meant. I was talking about Buddy Boy," said Jim with a wink. "Isn't that right, Buddy Boy?"

"That's right, big fella," came Buddy Boy's cheerful reply.

"As long as you're the one getting paid, Bill, I guess it doesn't matter," chuckled Jim.

I managed a smile. "It's amazing how many people call up and ask for Buddy Boy."

"It's natural. I saw the picture of him on the Herald's on-line blog. Frankly, the article could have talked more about you and less about him, but it was good exposure for your act. So how are things going?"

"Oh, you know. It's busy. Work is still work."

"But you're doing what you enjoy. I'm still in the office, wondering why I've been doing this for twenty years and if I can hang on to do it another twenty years."

"But you get to talk to people every day."

"And you don't?"

"I talk to Buddy Boy. He talks to me. And when we encounter someone - like you - he talks to Buddy Boy and not me."

"Well, I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"I suppose so."

"Excuse me," said a voice behind me. "Are you gentlemen ready to order? Say, aren't you Buddy Boy?"

She stared at Buddy Boy, obviously hoping he would say something to her. Buddy Boy remained quiet.

"Yes indeed," I said. "This is Buddy Boy."

"I'll have a burger and fries," said Jim, "with lettuce and tomato."

"And ... what would you like?" she said, looking at me.

"Same."

She then turned toward Buddy Boy, anticipating some clever comment. She was met with silence. After waiting a moment or two, she said in a patronizing tone, "Well, I suppose you're not eating today." She turned to walk away.

"Ahem, waitress, oh waitress!" called the high pitched voice.

She turned and responded with a delighted giggle.

"Yes, Buddy Boy?"

"I'll have the same also," he replied in his trademark voice.

This caught her off guard. Restaurant wait staff were never sure if he - or I - was joking, but they always played along with it.

"Same?" she asked, her eyes almost begging me to let her know whether she should follow through with the order.

"No lettuce though. It gets caught in his teeth," I added.

She laughed and shrugged. "All right then, three burgers with fries coming up."

There was a moment of silence. I knew what Jim was about to say, and I didn't really want to talk about it. Apparently Buddy Boy did, though.

"So how's Cathy?" said Buddy Boy.

"Cathy? What makes you ask about Cathy?" snapped Jim, looking at Buddy Boy.

"Sorry Jim, he ..."

"No, I'm sorry for being defensive," sighed Jim. "It's been hard. Cathy left a month ago."

"Oh Jim, I'm sorry to ..."

"Well, it's understandable," interrupted Buddy Boy.

"Buddy Boy, stop it," I said, looking at the dummy.

"But you know it's true, Billy Boy," said Buddy Boy. "Your friend Jim here dresses like a dork; he has body odor; and he's got the personality of a ... uh ... well, he doesn't really have a personality at all."

"Buddy Boy!" I said in a scolding voice.

"After all, doesn't Cathy deserve to be married to someone with a career more exciting than an insurance underwriter?"

"Buddy Boy, I said stop it," I retorted, probably too loudly. It was the second time that evening that heads looked my way.

"Bill, please, don't joke about this. I haven't gotten ..."

"Jim, sorry. I'm not making light of the situation. Sometimes Buddy Boy just seems to ..."

"Don't tell me that Buddy Boy takes on a mind of his own. Look, can't we talk, just the two of us, and let Buddy Boy sit and be quiet for a while?"

"Buddy Boy, do you promise to behave? Can you be quiet?"

"I guess so," came the high pitched response. "Besides, looks like food is here."

The waitress laid three plates with burgers and fries in front of us, and eating commenced.

For the next twenty minutes, we ate and talked, talked and ate, and enjoyed the conversation. That was perhaps the longest I had gone without hearing Buddy Boy's voice in weeks, and it was refreshing.

The waitress stopped by to check on us. Jim and I had finished. Buddy Boy's plate was untouched. She again looked uncomfortable, as though she should have just pretended to bring a meal for Buddy Boy.

"Is ... is he done?" she asked, looking at me.

"No I'm not done. Does it look like I'm done?" said Buddy Boy.

"Buddy Boy, be polite."

"Sorry. Just don't take my food away. I'll eat when I'm good and ready."

"Just leave his plate. We'll work on it," I said to the waitress. "Could you bring me a cup of coffee? Jim, would you like one?"

Jim nodded.

"How about for Buddy Boy?" she asked, again smiling.

"No coffee for me, thanks," said Buddy Boy.

The waitress looked at me in amazement. "Gosh, you're good, mister."

I smiled slightly. "Thanks."

"Excuse me for a moment. I have to hit the restroom," said Jim.

I nodded.

I sat in silence. The restaurant was clearing out, and only one other table was occupied - a family with a son around four or five years old was seated on the far end of the restaurant.

Jim returned.

"Well, it looks like someone was hungry."

I glanced over at Buddy Boy's plate. The burger was nearly finished and the fries were gone.

"Must have been hungry, huh?" said Jim, directing the question to me.

"Guess so," I managed to laugh.

"I don't know how you do it," said Jim, shaking his head. "You're still as trim as ever."

"And you've got a bit of a gut there, Jim," said Buddy Boy.

Jim's face turned red.

"I need to exercise more, and I'm hoping to ..." replied Jim.

"Maybe that's why she left. You're getting fat."

"Buddy Boy!" I shouted.

"Look Bill, I enjoyed the meal, but your humor is too rude for me. See ya."

Jim abruptly stood up, knocking the chair over. He threw a ten dollar bill on the table and left without even picking up the chair.

"Buddy Boy, please," I whispered.

"Say, aren't you Buddy Boy?" said a voice. I looked up. It was the family from the other end of the restaurant, apparently on their way out. The voice was from the young boy.

"Yes, this is Buddy Boy," I answered.

"Hey, I can answer that question," said Buddy Boy. "Yes, I'm Buddy Boy. What's your name?"

"My name's Roger," said the little boy.

"Well Roger, I suggest you go home and get some sleep, or else you'll never grow and you'll end up being as short as your old man."

The boy laughed, but the father didn't.

"And Roger, tell your mom to cut back on dessert. She's getting a little pudgy, don't you think?"

"Come on, Roger," said the father. "This is one ventriloquist act we're not going to see."

"But Papa, I want to..."

The father grabbed the boy by the arm and they quickly walked away, the boy shrieking.

Soon the restaurant was empty, other than our table. Buddy Boy's hamburger was finished.

Buddy Boy was always like this, alienating us from the rest of the world. Why couldn't he be nice? Why couldn't he let me make some new friends and keep the friends I had?

I looked around. There was nothing but silence, empty silence, filling the vast, cavernous restaurant.

Then I heard the mocking, high pitched voice.

"Say, aren't you Buddy Boy?"