“Finally, there’s Keith. Keith may have known that the camcorder in the ceiling was recording its behavior, or it may have thought that the camcorder in the ceiling was me, Maya Mehta, watching its behavior, but whatever Keith thought, it deliberately hid itself behind Mick while rear-ejecting. The question is: Why? Why will they never rear-eject in our presence? What exactly inhibits them? Is it simply an extreme discomfort they don’t quite understand? Or do they perhaps believe that, by virtue of always preventing us from seeing them rear-eject, we will believe they don’t engage in the act at all? Whatever the answer—whatever Keith’s hiding behavior might mean, whatever Paul’s ejection-moving behavior might mean, and, for that matter, whatever any Curio’s rear-ejection behavior might mean—I believe that my study, despite its inconclusiveness, was successful, however unintentionally, and even groundbreaking, though again unintentionally. It was successful and groundbreaking inasmuch as some of its results suggest rather strongly that Curios are capable of engaging in acts of willful deception, and I believe this will prove a very fascinating topic of scientific research in the future. I hope you will agree.
“Thank you for considering this my science project for the 1991 US National Science Fair. I am Maya Mehta of Newton North High School. Good morning, good afternoon, and good night to you.”
Head-on Curio
from The Tommy and Timmy Backyard BBQ Show
1993, ECTV Public Access Channel 6, Evanston IL, USA
[8 minutes, 32 seconds]
Behind a butcher-block island in an overlit kitchen stand a sunburnt, red-haired, middle-aged man, policemanly mustached, and a sunburnt, red-haired, adolescent boy with cauliflowered ears and patches of acne. Each wears a Chicago Cubs baseball cap, a Chicago Bears–themed grilling apron, and, down the bridge of his nose, a stripe of blue zinc oxide. The boy, smiling sheepishly, his arms across his chest, hands clamped in the pits, points his gaze down and away from the man, who, presenting to the camera in three-quarter profile, seems, though both of his eyes remain open, perpetually poised to wink the nearer one.
“Hello there, Evanston,” says the man. “I’m Tommy over here, that’s my boy, Timmy, and this week on the Backyard BBQ Show, father and son are gonna go—on three, now, Timmy—one…two…three…”
“Rogue!” Tommy and Timmy announce in unison.
“And what do we mean by rogue, today, Timmy?”
Timmy glances at the camera, says, “Heat without fire,” and again looks away.
Tommy says, “That is partially correct, there. One of the ways we’re gonna go rogue is…”
The screen blinks. Same tableau as before, but now there’s a Crock-Pot atop the island.
“We’re gonna use a slow cooker to do some prep before we head out to finish the job on the grill. For those of you tuning in to Triple-B Q Show for the first time this week, one of Kamanski’s—that’s me, by the way, I’m Tommy Kamanski—one of Kamanski’s most central of all tenets is…” Tommy nudges Timmy.
“No heat without fire,” Timmy says.
“No heat without fire. That’s right. Because why?”
“We’re devoted to the art of the open flame,” says Timmy rapidly, and then, at increasing velocity: “Barbecue without the open flame isn’t barbecue. The open flame is to barbecue what the hundred-yard-by-fifty-yard playing field is to gridiron football, what fifty-two—not fifty-one or less than that, or fifty-three or more than that—cards is to poker, and also too what Bill Cosby is to the Cosby Show is another way to put it.”
“Well said, Timmy,” says Tommy, and pats Timmy’s shoulder. “The open flame is essential! It’s the heart of—well, it’s the heart of the matter, guys. And we will definitely get to the open flame soon. But not yet. Cause this week our prep work, rather than just being the usual chopping and dicing and soaking and seasoning, really does require heat without a fire. A controlled, slow heat. And if you think that’s rogue then…”
The screen blinks. Same tableau as before, but now there’s a tin pail atop the island, next to the Crock-Pot. Tommy lifts the pail, tilts it forward, toward the camera. Inside are six Curios that, having just lost their balance, are scrambling to stand up on the side of the bucket.
“How about that! We are going so rogue so hard today that we’re going to show you how to cook you this new family favorite. Spicy barbecued head-on cure. How does that sound? How do you think it sounds to our viewers, Timmy? As in, pretend you’re one of them and you don’t know better cause I’m not your dad.”
“Okay,” Timmy says. “Okay…It sounds gross!”
“And why’s that?” says Tommy.
“Cause they’re not like meat-flavored. They don’t taste like meat. They taste all sugary.”
“Cause they taste all sugary! Timmy tells it like it is. But what if I told you we could make these sugary little gizmos taste like meat, Tim? Or, at least, a lot more like meat?”
“If you told me that then I don’t really think that I would really believe you unless you had some kind of total proof,” Timmy says.
“Well, that’s because you’re sharp there, son. You’re nobody’s fool. One thing I for sure did not do is father some jagoff. And now I’m going to prove to you what you think I can’t prove.”
“Okay!” says Timmy.
The screen blinks again. Same tableau as before, but now an open jar of WorkPellets that appear to be a lighter shade of beige than normal, a bottle of vinegar, and a shaker of cayenne pepper are arranged on the island in front of the Crock-Pot.
“Now how long do you suppose it would take to make cures taste like meat, Tim?” says Tommy.
“I bet it would take anywhere from like ten thousand years to forever and ever.”
“And that’s why, Timmy, you’ll be very surprised to learn that it takes either just a few minutes, or about three weeks, depending only on how you choose to think of time.”
“That’s a weird thing to say! You sound like that tubby Asian god guy from the cookies.”
“Confucius?”
“Yeah!”
The screen blinks. Same tableau as before but, inexplicably, a small clay statue of the laughing Buddha now sits atop the Crock-Pot’s lid. The sound of a man laughing—presumably Tommy—rings out for three seconds, though neither Tommy nor Timmy appears to be laughing.