IHOP. Blueberry pancakes and blueberry syrup! Dr. Mince loves IHOP and so do I. Father Feenan isn't quite sure where we are. He hasn't been quite with us for the last few days. Either something is weighing heavy on his mind or not a glimmer of a thought is trickling in his brain.
"So far, so good." Dr. Mince announced. I looked up, smiled, and returned to coloring my placemat. "Now it would be good if we could get a little demonstration going." he said.
I colored red in the eye sockets of the outlined clown. I missed using crayons. The smooth wax of primary colors relaxed my mind. They gave me four crayons: red, blue, yellow, and orange. Now orange obviously is not a primary color, so how do I fit it in?
"I wonder if I should call the local station?" Dr. Mince said.
I decided to paint the clown's heart orange. A big orange circle for the clown's heart.
"Greg? Are you listening?"
"Yes." I told him, though I didn't want to hear. I wanted to draw and not hear him. I wanted to take my pancakes, coffee, and clown back to my room and draw with crayons the rest of the day.
"We'll, what do you think? Should I call a television station?"
"Sure." I said. "But you know I'm a little tired and I'm not feeling well." I said folding my placemat and pocketing the four crayons. I'm going back to the hotel to take a nap before the lecture. I'll set a wake up call and meet you at noon in the lobby." The lecture was set for 1:00 at the Republican Club.
"Sure you're all right? He grabbed my hand.
"Oh yeah, just tired." And I left eager to close the door to my room behind me.
I woke to see my childlike colored clown where I taped it to the mirror above the dresser, and the orange heart looked like it was moving, pumping, and much bigger than I had drawn it. It pulsated and I could feel my own heart. The phone rang.
"This is your wake up call. It's eleven-thirty." When I looked back, the orange heart was one dimensional, and had returned to its normal size.
We drive up to the Republican Club and about one hundred gay demonstrators attack our rental Toyota. Father Feenan, who sits alone in the back, doesn't get it. "Oh, look at all the people. They've come to hear you."
"I'm not so sure they've come to listen." I announce.
Dr. Mince parks and the protesters follow. Father Feenan reaches for the door handle and ignorantly unafraid opens the door.
I yell, "Wait, Father!" But it's too late. The crowd pulls him out and before I can move he's twenty feet ahead of me and being pushed around. "Father, Father Feenan. Hey, stop, he's old and blind." Father Feenan disappears into the crowd.
