The Haunting of the King's Head by Amy Cross

Author:Amy Cross [Cross, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-05T22:00:00+00:00

***

“I don't know where the titles came from,” Dad says to Jennifer later, once the pub is shut and we're all cleaning the tables. “They just popped into my head. I guess it's a kind of inspiration.”

“You're so clever, Tom,” she replies. “I could never come up with something like that.”

“I bet you could,” he says. “Go on, try to come up with a title for a round about gouda cheese. I never managed to crack that.”

She thinks for a moment.

“I've got it!” she says suddenly. “The $64,000 Gouda!”

I start to roll my eyes, but then Dad starts laughing and I realize that he actually likes this suggestion. As he tells her that she's brilliant, and that she should help him out on his next quiz, I head over to fetch some more glasses and I find myself wondering whether I'm just totally out of the loop. Maybe this kind of thing really is funny. Maybe I'm just some kind of grouch.

“Charley, you try one,” Dad says. “Think of a round about Swiss cheese. That's another one that I couldn't crack.”

“How about...”

I pause for a moment, but my brain feels empty until suddenly a great pun pops into my mind and I turn to Dad and Jennifer.

“How about,” I say with a faint smile, “Swiss Line is it Anyway?”

I wait for them to laugh.

They don't laugh.

“Swiss Line is it Anyway?” I say again, just in case they didn't hear the first time. “Like Whose Line is it Anyway? but, uh...”

My voice trails off.

How is The $64,000 Gouda funny, but Swiss Line is it Anyway? Isn't?

“We'll keep trying on that one,” Dad says diplomatically, “but good try. You can't expect to come up with a zinger with your first one, Charley.”

That settles it.

It's me.

I'm just not funny.

I turn back to the table and start gathering glasses, while telling myself that maybe I need to lighten up. I'm gonna come up with a good pun for Swiss cheese, though, even if it's the last thing I ever do. I'm gonna have people rolling in the aisles with laughter, and I'm gonna prove to Dad and to Jennifer and to everyone that I can be totally, properly funny. I mean, sure, that kind of thing might not come naturally to me, but that doesn't mean -

Suddenly the window nearby shatters, showering me with glass, and something heavy comes thudding through and slams into the table next to me.

Startled, I step back and bump against a different table, and somehow I lose my footing and fall hard against the ground. I reach out to break my fall, but in the process I slice my left hand on a piece of glass.

“What the -”

Dad comes rushing over, but already there's the sound of footsteps racing off into the night.

“Are you okay?” he asks, helping me up. “Charley, you're bleeding!”

“It's nothing,” I stammer, looking at the cut on my hand. There's some blood, but nothing serious. I'm more bothered by the sense of shock.

Turning, I see a brick on the table, with some thick black text scrawled on one side.

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