Page 48 - Unlikely Stories 5

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He did a little jig in front of the perspiring man huffing and puffing in
pseudo-escalation. “This ought to tan your hide a little: take a peek at
my bladder!”
“Your what?” Uriah blinked the sweat off his eyelashes. “Is that
another gag? You made a model of your bladder? It looks just like a
football.” He stopped stepping.
“It’s not a football, Urkie. It’s the football. I just don’t like to use
that term. Too many know it already.”
Neb pressed one end of the lacing and the pigskin prolate ellipsoid
opened smoothly on hinges hidden beneath a seam. A small display
screen covered the upper inner surface and a double row of glowing
buttons the lower.
“Oh.” Urquhart returned to pumping treads. “I’ve got something
like that. But it looks more like a briefcase. I thought I had the only
one.”
Scurry closed the clamshell and put it back in his bag.
“One of us,” he whispered, “plays a dummy. The other plays with
one.”
Uriah Urquhart wiped his face and smiled. “That’s an easy one:
you’re a dummy and I play with you, right here, five mornings a
week.”
“Very good, Urkie! I think you’ve had a sufficient workout: now
you can face the challenges of the day. I must return to my lonely little
cell and come up with something new for you tomorrow.” The
stunted trickster made a gesture toward a camera mounted in a corner
of the ceiling.
Instantly a man in a dark suit entered through the locker room door.
“It’s time for you to shower and get dressed, Mr. President. Your
first appointment is in forty-five minutes.”
Urquhart shut down the stair-climber and headed toward the door.
“So long, Mr. Nobody. Sorry you weren’t more active, but it’s
always fun to have an exercise buddy.”
Neb hooted like a chimpanzee and did a little end-zone victory
dance with an imaginary football as Uriah Urquhart left the gym. Then
he let out a big sigh and began packing up his props and baubles.
When he came to the umbrella ukulele, he paused; then picked it up
and plunked a few chords to accompany his warbling:

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