My Favourite Comedian

By Michael Grossman

If you’ve ever been forced to go on a family holiday to the middle of nowhere, you know it’s like getting a filling at the dentists. Everything from the long drives, boring day trips and beds that wage war on your spine, make it anything but a fun experience.

The thought of a two week holiday with his mother and annoying sister did not excite Jake Archibald one bit. If they were taking him to Disneyland or Hawaii, he would have been totally up for it. But Brimbrilla? Even Google Earth has never heard of that place! Besides, he already had enough on his mind with the separation of his parents and his weight issues.

But this trip will prove to be anything but boring. From getting into a series of crazy situations to making friends with a stand-up comedian and a kid named Shakespeare, Jake is about to experience the adventure of a lifetime.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Grossman
• Release date: Nov 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463946930

Michael Grossman

MICHAEL GROSSMAN has served as legal counsel for a company that manages laboratory animal colonies used in bio-med research for the National Institutes for Health, the Centers for Disease Control, private universities, and pharmaceutical giants like Pfizer.

Book preview

My Favourite Comedian

Michael Grossman

Copyright © 2019 by Michael Grossman

Cover Design: ebooklaunch.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [e-mail]

FIRST EDITION

Visit my websites:

www.myfavouritecomedian.com

www.topicalteaching.com

For my wife, Danielle—

And my children, Rivka, Eli and Yael,

I am so lucky to have you in my life.

Also for my students—

You have encouraged me every step of the way.

In memory of my best friend, Vadim—

I miss you more than words could ever express.

Contents

1: A WEIGHT ON MY SHOULDERS

2: ARE WE THERE YET?

3: ONE-STAR RESORT

4: AN INTRODUCTION TO SHAKESPEARE

5: SISTER FOR SALE

6: PENGUIN AT THE PUB

7: DAVID

8: MY HERO . . . I THINK

9: HOSTAGE SITUATION

10: ROAD RAGE

11: WHAT A MESS!

12: BACK TO THE PUB

13: THE PARK

14: THE UNWANTED GUEST

15: RETAIL THERAPY

16: A NIGHT OUT

17: THE FLAWED PLAN

18: LONG ROAD TO RECOVERY

19: CONFRONTATION

20: OLD PROBLEMS AND NEW SOLUTIONS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

1

A WEIGHT ON MY SHOULDERS

I’m so fat. Look at me. Bigger than last time. I’m not supposed to be this fat.

That’s it! I’ve had enough! I’m going on a diet. Starting today, I’m going to eat only healthy stuff. Actually, I’ll start after the holidays. I’ll eat big now, just to say goodbye to all my favourite foods, and as soon as the school year starts – I’m off all the junk food. I’ll eat nothing but celery. Well, celery and carrots. Celery, carrots and pasta . . . and burgers . . . with fries . . . extra sauce . . .

I’ll start doing exercise . . . but sensibly . . . in stages. First I’ll walk around the block, then I’ll jog around the block, and then when I’m ready I’ll sprint. Soon I’ll be one of those people that go swimming every day . . . except for really cold and rainy days. I’ll be a fitness fanatic. All muscle. I’ll be on television. People will find my story inspirational.

What am I thinking? It’s never going to happen.

Why do I have to be fat? Why couldn’t I just be stupid or have a terrible lisp or make snorting sounds when I laugh? Why fat? I hate it! Just look at me. You could open doors with my love handles.

What’s going to happen when everyone in my class has a girlfriend and I don’t? They will be carrying on about how much in love they are and how serious it’s all becoming, and I’ll just be sitting there. I can just see it now, at school reunions without a date, pigging out on pastries and guzzling Coke.

God, why me?

Who are you talking to in there?

Um . . . God.

Well, can you tell God your mother needs you to give her a hand? I’m sure God will understand.

That was the funniest my mother had been in about six months (which isn’t saying much). The reason she was making such an effort to humour me was because she was trying to get on my good side. It wasn’t working!

What kind of help do you need?

Have you finished packing?

Yes, Mum.

Have you brushed your teeth?

Uh-huh.

Have you cleaned your room?

No. Why should I clean my room? We’re going on holiday. No one is going to notice if my room is messy!

Mothers are all the same. They are so used to saying the same things day in and day out that they just keep on saying it, even when it doesn’t apply. Like homework. How many times has your mother told you to go and do your homework when it’s holidays? My mother asks me what I’m doing out of bed only minutes after giving me permission to stay up until the movie is over.

Meanwhile, I had to go clean up my room on the off chance that a robber broke into our house while we were away and had trouble finding my valuables from underneath all the junk on my desk and floor. I can’t find his laptop! The kid’s room is too messy! Just typical!

My room wasn’t that bad anyway. Apart from all the papers scattered around my desk, the dirty clothes behind my door, and the piece of pizza that somehow got stuck to my ceiling fan, my bedroom was spotless. Instead of cleaning my room I ended up sitting at my desk, playing on my iPad.

Have you finished yet, Jake?

Just wait a second!

Oh, nuts! I lost another life.

What did you say?

Have you finished your room yet? I’ve got something else I need you to do.

What?

I need you to make sure Shelley finishes her breakfast. We have to start packing the car now.

Usually it was hard to get me off a device. Once I started a game, especially a shooting game, I felt I had to finish it. But I was doing really badly and had only one life left, so ending the game was not such a big deal.

I made my way to the kitchen. My sister was there eating. Eating was about the only thing she could actually handle on her own. Why I was asked to watch her eat beats me.

Are you going to be finished soon?

She didn’t respond.

So I sat and watched her finish her cereal – pretty boring, really. I spent the time studying the Rice Bubbles box. Snap was my favourite. Crackle and Pop just didn’t do it for me. My interest in the cereal box must have got my sister jealous, because she snatched it away from me. She was five years old – she was no baby. I just wished she would stop acting like one.

She was one when she uttered her first word: Mumma.

By three she could express herself perfectly: Mum, I think Jake’s brains got flushed down the toilet.

By four you couldn’t shut her up: That guy on the train looks like the prime minister, only balder.

And then it all happened. She stopped talking. Or, more to the point, she stopped talking properly. She started talking in baby talk. GoogooGoo-goo gaga, la, la . . .

Only occasionally did she speak properly. The rest of the time she spoke like a five-year-old trying to imitate a baby. We all knew why she did it – she was looking for attention. The doctor said it was nothing to be alarmed at and it was only a phase: Mrs Archibald, there is nothing to be alarmed at, it’s only a phase.

I didn’t think it was a phase. Why would anyone give up the amount of attention she was getting? I knew I wouldn’t.

Well, are you finished yet?

Scooby wooby wooby.

I’ll take that as a yes.

It took us half an hour to pack the car. Actually, it took my mother half an hour. I spent the time watching and giving the occasional helpful suggestion.

If there’s no room in the car, I’ll be only too happy to stay home.

I hated going on holidays with my mum. It was, like, so boring. She was a teacher, so going on holiday with her felt like one long school excursion. Jake, when we get home you can write a recount of our trip.

How long does it take to get to Dumbrilla anyway? I asked cheekily.

It’s Brimbrilla.

Dumbrilla, Brimbrilla – same thing!

About eight hours.

Nine hours! (Mothers are never accurate about these sorts of things).

Please don’t complain, Jake. You know this year has been a real shocker for me. Have some consideration for someone other than yourself for once. I need the break. Besides, there’s a lot of great stuff they’ve got out there, like shops and parks, and you can even go fishing.

I hated fishing. I don’t know about you, but I’m not into killing my food before I eat it. Once I went to this seafood restaurant with my family and there was this tank with live lobsters in it. You were supposed to pick the lobster you wanted to eat, and the waiter would take it to the kitchen and cook it for you. I didn’t want my lobster to be cooked, so I took it home and looked after it instead. I just thought of a great idea for a movie! Giant lobsters escape from a restaurant and start cooking and eating people. Lobsters Strike Back! I bet Chris Hemsworth has never played a lobster before.

Well, that’s about it for the packing. You brought everything?

My sister and I both nodded.

I didn’t really bring everything. You see, I was in charge of bringing the CDs, and I left my mother’s copy of The Seekers: Live in Concert in my top desk drawer – on purpose. If you think I was going to sit through a nine-hour drive listening to ‘Georgy Girl’, you’re sadly mistaken.

2

ARE WE THERE YET?

The worst thing about going on holidays is the drive. It’s so boring! There’s not a lot you can do in the back seat of a car for nine hours. Even people who are excited by holidays know how much the drive sucks. That’s why you always get people asking:

How was the drive up?

This question only has one answer.

It was really exhausting, actually.

I admit that I’m a restless person. I can’t sit still for too long. My teachers complain that I’m constantly fidgety in class. I used to blunt my own pencils just as an excuse to take a walk to the rubbish bin.

My mother did her best to try and keep us interested. She spent most of the drive trying to convince us that we were having the time of our lives.

Don’t you feel relaxed already?

Um, no.

Isn’t it great – this family moment?

Um, no.

Don’t you smell the fresh, untouched air?

No. We’re in the country. I smell cow poo.

My sister, Shelley, got excited every time she saw a cow.

Moo! Moo! Moo!

That’s right, sweetie, it’s a cow.

We must have seen a hundred cows on our way to Brimbrilla. You would have thought Shelley would stop mooing after the tenth cow. No, that’s not Shelley; she just kept on mooing every time.

Hey look, Shelley, there’s a cow!

Moo! Moo! Moo!

Jake, don’t tease your sister. There are no cows in supermarkets, Shelley, he’s just being cruel.

We tried to play I Spy, but it was a disaster. Every time it was Shelley’s turn she would make it impossible. Imagine trying to guess an object which starts with the letter shompawompa.

After a while Shelley started to get very anxious and wanted to know how much longer we had left.

About three and a half hours, my mother answered.

Shelley persisted. She didn’t understand how long an hour was.

"We’ve got eleven episodes of Paw Patrol left before we get there," I helped.

Shelley gave a huge smile. She loved Paw Patrol, and just the thought of eleven episodes calmed her down.

Why didn’t Dad call to say goodbye?

He was probably busy or something.

How can he be busy? He’s a writer.

You know how your dad gets. He’s just like that.

My mother says only nice things about my father to me. She tries very hard to make it sound like she likes him. She must think I’m stupid. I know how much she hates him. I know exactly what’s going on. She always talks about him on the phone. How dare he tell me how to live my life!

I don’t blame her, really. I hate him too. I never used to. We used to be like best friends. He used to read to me and play footy with me, and we used to write stories together. But then one day he just left, without even saying goodbye. I might as well tell you now, your father isn’t going to be living with us anymore. We’ve decided to separate.

I don’t get it how when a father leaves home it’s called a separation, but when a son leaves home it’s called running away. What’s the difference?

The separation thing was about six months ago. My parents haven’t divorced yet. I still pray every day that they won’t. I heard my father’s agent say to his secretary that my dad is considering filing for divorce and that my parents have irreconcilable differences. I don’t know what irreconcilable differences is, but if it means they hate each other and like to fight and argue all the time, it’s a good way of describing it.

Dad’s got a girlfriend. Mum hates her. Her name’s Bridget (Mum calls her a different name starting with the letter B).