Padrow G. and the Moonlight Sonata

By Paul Ehrlich

This book is about Padrow Guggenheim, a talented young man whose personal problems need to be resolved. In the beginning he is plagued by hallucinations. As he gets rid of these, his leadership qualities start to take over, and he becomes the heavyweight boxing champion of the world. He also becomes an authority on dirty fighting and exposes a leading Russian fighter, known as Tricky Serg, whom he gets sent to jail. Padrow is finally offered a position he cannot refuse, to become a kind of Sir Lancelot to help dirty young street fighters learn to live a life of chivalry and even elegance. Most of this learning takes place in a gorgeous new university made entirely of sculptured and colored glass. Many young girls are madly in love with Padrow, but he is waiting for the real Princess Guinevere to appear and possibly capture his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jun 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781466994065

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© Copyright 2013 Paul Ehrlich.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-9407-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4669-9406-5 (e)

Trafford rev. 05/22/2013

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER I

Padrow Guggenheim awoke the next morning with a raspy feeling of thorns in the bed and thorns in his mouth and in his hands—his lovely smooth hands that women loved to touch, and sometimes to kiss. Looking at him from the foot of the bed was a grotesque orange ogre, smiling and drooling. The thought of breakfast made him suddenly very nauseous.

OK, you guys. he said out loud, You’re back again. I was hoping you’d give me a rest for a while, but nah, that ain’t your style. Tell you what—I’m gonna curl up and go back to sleep and see what else you’ve dreamed up for me. Goodbye! And with that he kicked the orange ogre and sent him sprawling to the opposite wall. Hah, hah, said Padrow, and curled up on his pillow and went back to sleep.

Two hours later Padrow woke up, and everything in his bed and his room was normal. No thorns, no orange ogres. Nothing.

OK, guys, he said, What are you planning this time? Gotta be something special. You wouldn’t just suddenly leave me alone. That’s not your style. What’s it gonna be? Scrambled eggs in my bed? Nah, you already did that last time. Buckets of slimy drool when I try to put my shoes on? Yeah. You did that too. And it was very nice. I’d been planning to wash my feet for a week. So what’s it gonna be this time? Don’t tell me you’re giving up and letting me live?

Heh, heh, whispered a soft voice. Heh, heh, heh.

The telephone rang, and Padrow reached out to answer it, expecting it to be covered with slime, but to his surprise it felt just like a normal telephone. Pad here, he said.

You ready, Pad? said the voce of Ed Woolsey.

You better come here and help me get dressed. I’m having a bad day.

Already? said Eddy.

Started right in the beginning when I woke up. Thorns and orange ogres.

I’ll be over in fifteen. Your appointment with Dr. Schaffer is in a half hour. We better step on it.

Twenty minutes later Padrow and his caretaker Eddy got seated in Ed’s car and Ed revved up the motor. They both looked like normal young businessmen out for a drive. New York City is full of young men who look like that. How many are really normal, whatever that means, may be up for grabs. Padrow was normal, much of the time. But the rest of the time… According to Dr. Schaffer, Padrow was mostly normal, but occasionally he crossed the line.

Dr. Schaffer was a wide-bodied, round faced man with a light dusting of grayish hair on his round head. As he said goodbye to his earlier patient, a very pretty twentyish young lady, he leaned forward and whispered something to her that made her blush slightly and then they both laughed, a good-natured chuckle. See ya Wednesday, he said.

Uh-huh, she said, and went to the elevator and pressed the button.

So, Padrow, said Dr. Schaffer. What’s with you? Any better? Still happening?

Still there, said Guggenheim. Still trying to drive me nuts. This morning when I woke up—thorny branches all over my bed and my pillow. Plus a big orange ogre laughing at me.

A whole ogre?

Just his head. I kicked him over to the wall and went back to sleep for a couple of hours. When I woke up again everything was like, right, nothing unusual or wrong, but a small voice laughing at me, ‘Heh, heh, heh.’ A ‘wait-and see-little laugh,’ just to tell me he’s still there.

You know, of course, where he lives?

In my head, you told me. OK, maybe he lives in my head. But he’s still trying to drive me nuts.

"Maybe you should go on the attack. Try to drive him nuts."

How do I do that?

Start small. Tell him you really like him. Tell him he’s real good company to have around.

And then?

Tell him how lonely you used to feel, but now that he’s there with you, you never feel lonely. And he’s good for a good laugh when things seem to be getting gloomy.

And then what?

Well, if that’s not enough, tell him that you’re afraid of him, ’cause you think maybe you’re falling in love with him.

Dr. Schaffer!!

Yeah. Give it a try. As that good old joke says, ‘wouldn’t hurt.’ Try it. See what he does.

So I’m falling in love with him now. What’s better about that?

Things are happening. It’s no longer a dead end. See where it leads. At the very worst it couldn’t be much worse than what you have already, thorns in your bed and on your pillow, an ogre head grinning at you.

And you think all of this is in my head?

Where else? Don’t answer that!

Listen, Doc—Dr. Schaffer. If he lives in my head, do you think he heard all of the advice you’ve just been giving me, that I’m lonely without him, that I’m afraid I’m falling in love with him?

Possibly. How do you feel about this?

I don’t know, Doc—It sounds like we’re giving him too much of what’s ours, what’s mine. Making him feel too important, maybe.

But he is important. Look what he’s doing to your life.

Yeah, maybe he is more important than I give him. But still, even if he is important, isn’t he just an important pest?

Mr. Guggenheim, important pests can be very important. All through history, important pests have been awarded high positions, even though they’re really just pests. Don’t write them off.

Can you give me any examples, Dr. Schaffer?

Yes, I can. How about your own Napoleon. A brilliant man, but actually just a pest. Wanted to take over the whole world. Wanted everyone to bow down to him. A brilliant pest. We’ve got a few more right here in this country. But is that what you really want to discuss? Important pests?

No, not really. It just bothers me so much that a pest named Napoleon seems to be taking over my wonderful life. My beautiful life.

Is that what you actually had, before the pesting started? A wonderful, beautiful life?

I thought so. I think so.

Well, we’ll have to just play around with what we have, using your pest to get back the great life you used to have. OK? So start using the pest to get back the rest. How’s that for a nice rhyming line?

Yeah, a nice rhyme. Just what I need,

"OK, Padrow. Get in touch with your pest. Tell him how much you like him, how much fun he is. It’ll drive him crazy, instead of him driving you crazy. What was it that he brought you this morning, besides thorns? Ah, yes. A big pumpkin-head ogre. Tell him how much you liked it, and that you’re sorry you kicked it away. You and he could have so much fun kicking it to each other. Right?"

Right, Dr. Schaffer. I’ll give it a try.

Padrow collected Eddy from the waiting room, where Eddy was knee deep in fashion magazines, and they went out to the restaurant on the corner, where Padrow could order his favorite breakfast—scrambled eggs and home-fried potatoes. While he was eating, Padrow gave Ed an idea of the gist of what Dr. Schaffer had prescribed for Padrow, without mentioning Napoleon. He had decided to hold on to Napoleon, keep him in reserve.

Pad, said Eddy, Do you think you could actually enjoy playing along with your pest? Maybe we should find a name for him, so we don’t always have to say ‘your pest’?

Eddy, said Padrow, let’s just ask him what his name is. Maybe he’ll tell us.

How do you ask a hallucination what his name is?

No idea. I guess I’ll just ask him, see what he says.

Do we have to wait till we get back to your apartment? Does he ever go out?

Not that I know of. I think I’ll ask. Hey, friend hallucination. Do you ever go out? Are you stuck in my apartment all the time?

Heh, heh, heh, said a soft voice.

Oh, you’re here with us. Good. Can you tell us your name?

Heh, heh…

Ah, too bad. You won’t tell us.

No.

Why not?

It would scare you. It would curdle your blood.

Well, thanks for protecting me. Are you a famous name?

Yep.

Is it a name that’s already been mentioned today?

Yep.

Are you kidding?

Nope.

Does your name start with the letter N?

Yep.

Oh, boy. You’re not kidding, are you?

Nope.

If you call me ‘Pad’, can I call you ‘Nap’?

Yep. But be very careful. Only you must know.

How about my buddy Ed over here. He will know.

If he spills it, I will have to kill him.

How about Dr. Schaffer?

He’ll be OK. Nobody would believe him.

Can we have fun together, you and me?

Yes, for a while. But when I have to do my work you won’t enjoy it.

How long do I have before that happens?

I don’t know. Could be a long time. But not forever. Meanwhile, if you want, I’ll back off and let you do your work without interfering. You can tell people that you’re cured. But I’ll be there when no one else is around. We’ll have great fun when no one else is there.

Can I get married?

Sure, if you pick the right girl. Has to be a girl that doesn’t know about me, even if you’re dying to tell her. And for God’s sake, don’t get a dog and name him after me.

Don’t worry. I never thought of you as a dog. Or a horse. Are you the one who built those great buildings and roadways and parks in Paris?

No, that was my nephew, Nap III.

Do you stay in touch with him, talk to him from time to time?

No, I can’t. He’s dead. I can only deal with people who are still alive, like you.

How did you happen to pick me?

I can’t tell you.

Are you a hallucination? Are you all that’s left of the great Napoleon? The man who wanted to conquer the world, and almost did?

Yep. That’s me.

Do you still want to conquer the world?

I don’t know. I haven’t decided. Too many loser types wanted to conquer the world now, after me. Hitler, Stalin, little Georgie Bush, Dick Cheney. People with no personal style. Gave the whole idea a bad odor. I had great personal style. When people looked at me they saw a hero, a man with great special qualities, a born leader. When people look at me now they see Padrow Guggenheim. They don’t see me, they see only you. When people look at Padrow do they see a hero with great style? He has a nice face. But is it a commanding face? Is it the face of a hero? A man with great special qualities? A born leader? He’s about the best we could find when we went looking. And I’ve spent the past year and a half making his life miserable in certain ways, to bring out whatever heroism he is capable of. Has it worked? Does he look like a born leader? I don’t think so. Does he at least look like a hero, if not really heroic? You tell me. Meanwhile, look at what’s happened to his country—from being the hope of the world to what we have now. Pathetic!

So whatcha gonna do now, Nap? I said. Gonna try with someone else that maybe looks the part a little more? Maybe try Arnold Schwarzenegger?

Well, we looked at Arnold, and put him down on the list as number two, after you. Maybe that was a mistake. The trouble was, there was something about him that made it hard to take him seriously. So we picked you as number one.

Ah, said Padrow. So that’s why I got all this picky stuff that you try to bury me with, last time thorny branches in my bed, all the other old crap you tried on me before that—now you say it was to bring out my latent heroism—yeah, sure. Well, now you see that it didn’t work, maybe I never had any latent heroism. When I finished with the Marine Corps they called me a war hero, and that was nice, but now you have to decide what you want to do with me, now that you sort of own me.

So it’s my decision now? said Nap. Do I follow my destiny or do I just fold up and blow away? It all seems to be up for grabs. Will Padrow Guggenheim at least be able to turn America back to being the hope of the world? The rest of what I need—the inborn leadership, the sense of heroism, seems to have slid away in the past ten years. None of this is meant as a criticism of Paddy—he was the best we could find when we went searching for possible heroes. I’ve done my job as well as I was able to, at least as well as I used to do it when I was alive. All the rest, as I said before, is up for grabs. Shall we toss a coin? How about it? Heads, we continue to try? Tails, we give up because it’s really impossible?

OK, guys. Anybody have a coin?

Padrow and Eddy drove slowly home, too many thoughts to have any conversation. Paddy was thinking, was that really Napoleon talking, and was he seriously saying that all of his pesting in the last two years was to bring out some heroism in Paddy?

Eddy was thinking, was that really Napoleon, and would Padrow’s hallucinations stop now, and should he (Eddy) start looking for a different job?

And Wilma, Paddy’s former girlfriend, was thinking, I wonder what’s become of Paddy. I thought he was great, actually super-great, but he suddenly lost interest. Hmm. I wonder what would happen if I suddenly ran into him while he was coming home from somewhere. Hmm. I think I’ll try it. Maybe tomorrow. I’ll call first to find out if he’s out or home already, then wrong number if he’s home.

Padrow and Nap the Hallucination were having a serious conversation, in the Guggenheim apartment. Nap had arranged to have brought out a full-length mirror, for Padrow to see himself while he talked. Watch your face, said Nap. Watch your arms and hands, your different facial expressions, while we talk. Remember, for this to work at all, everything you see in the mirror has to look heroic. The slightest wimpiness and you’re finished. Martin Guile will be here in fifteen minutes, and he’s a terrific acting coach, but till he gets here it’s all up to you. Are you ready?

Ready but not really ready, said Padrow, quoting from a famous book he had read.

The doorbell rang. That’s probably Guile already, said Nap. He was very intrigued by the name I gave him.

What name did you give? asked Padrow.

I told him it was Napoleon Guggenheim.

Very clever, said Pad. Did he ask if it was a member of the family?

Yes, he did, and I told him ‘Yes, it is.’ Meanwhile, Eddy opened the door and invited in a short, stout, middle-aged bundle of enormous energy, Mr. Guile,