July 24

Alexandre Dumas (b. 1802)

 

I guess you kids wouldn’t call yourselves The Three Musketeers, wouldja?  In my day, that how me and my two best friends referred to ourselves.

There’s a book, but we’d seen it at the movies.  A live-action swordfighter, which was pretty exciting…but there was also a cartoon by that theme-park guy, starring his mouse, his duck, and whatever animal that tall dorky one was supposed to be.

I miss the movies.  Hell, I miss books, too.  Times have sure changed.

Now, back to my friends… It’s not like we fought with swords or anything, but the three of us were always together.  Come to think of it, the adults might have called us that first, and the label kind of stuck.  Morris, they’d say, you and your buddies are like the three musketeers.

I wonder…if one of us had been a gal, would we have gotten the same nickname?

Well, like I said before:  times have changed.  Back then, I think you pretty much had to be a guy to get in the Musketeers club.

I like the number three, though.  It’s a good number to have, when you’re counting close friends.  Add a fourth, and things can get a little competitive.  Seems you’ve stumbled on the magic formula yourselves, without needing the book or the movie, right?

You haven’t said how you guys met.  There’s probably some excitement there, some danger, and some honor, too.  Honor among…  Well, you know what I mean by honor.  I’m sure it’d be a good story, and I’ve got plenty of time to listen.

Oh, I get it.  You’re thinking I’ve got plenty of time for talking, too.  Maybe you think I’m just being crafty.  All psychological.  Making sure you get to know me, my likes and dislikes.  Dropping my name in here and there — Morris, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten — so I feel like a person to you instead of some stranger you don’t care about.

You’ve been letting me talk, which I appreciate.  I do.  You coulda gagged me, when you bound my hands and feet, so that was a courtesy.

But I wish you’d talk back.  Those burns on your face don’t mean your vocal cords got messed up too, right?

’Cause I’m kinda wondering what you’re planning to do to ol’ Morris now.  I have to admit, the way you’re sharpening up those knives has me a little concerned.  I’m a stringy thing, not much meat on me, so I couldn’t put up much of a fight.  Where’s the honor in that?

Like I said, three is a good number.  I’m not trying to be part of your little gang.  My feelings won’t be hurt if you decide not to invite me to dinner.