�Are you all crazy, jack, or just half crazy? I�m not sleeping in a sock drawer.� His peg leg scraped demandingly along the floor as he stared at me, with my uncle Ted�s eyes. Oh, by the way, have you ever met my uncle Ted? He�s a great guy, really knows how to throw a barbeque, like for the Fourth of July? Really great. I pulled the chair out from my desk and offered it to him. �Now you�re talkin� my language...� he crawled under the desk and was immediately asleep. While my double-uncle slept, I had to complete the preparations for the Discipline campaign: cutting switches, washing off the stocks, and repainting the time out corner. But still my thoughts were driven to my Uncle Ted�s doppelganger; I could see his story through my own eyes, and truth be told, it was kinda weirding me out. I carried the remains of the cake back to my room, guessing that Rufus would wake hungry. Seeing him curled up under my desk like a baby peg-legged bird, I was overwhelmed and called my Uncle.
�Oh, Captain Sheppard I hear. Congratulations really, Sheppard. The reformatory made a real good choice appointing you to the Captaincy. Did you get those socks I sent you?� The question aroused a muffled shame, as I had in fact given the socks to a boy in the reformatory.
�Yes; and thank you for your confidence. But, about the doppelganger, Ted. Do you have a fourteen year old peg-legged version of yourself running around somewhere? Maybe in the maximum security area of my reformatory?� I felt the need to push for an answer.
There was an irritated sigh, �Let me check,� and a rattle as the phone was set down on the other end. In that perilous interval I didn�t know whether I wanted the answer to be yes or no; neither would have given me solace. When the phone was picked up again, Ted assured me, �No, no doppelgangers that I know of, Sheppard. Say, is there any left over cake?�
�No! No cake, Uncle Ted. Dreadful sorry. I�ve got to run-I�m positively swamped, you know.� We made our goodbyes.
�But still,� I asked, �the retrieval of those board games must�ve saved that whole-� the warden, whose name must�ve been something like �Warden�, interrupted me.
�Well, I do consider myself quite the taskmaster. When I command that game hour will begin fifteen minutes earlier, by my word, it will begin fifteen minutes earlier! Maybe Sixteen! Or my name isn�t...� Here I think he said Warden, but I can�t quite recall.
From below my desk an avuncular voice coughed, muffling an exclamation: �Bullshit!�
The warden looked at me queerly; �Did you just cough, captain?� I couldn�t have met him by a direct lie, for creative reasons, not moral. For that matter, I wasn�t sure just who had coughed; maybe it indeed had been me, but I could not recall to verify. Verging on a panic, I changed the subject.
�That courtyard; well, no man could survive very long down there... but, well.... Your section of the reformatory is just on the other side of that Courtyard... you don�t suppose...� I had a genuine stroke of genius. Pursing my lips together I made a high, flapping, ringing sound as though the ringing of a phone.
�Pardon me, I have to answer this call.� I lifted the phone to my ear and cast my eyes down on my desk.
�But your phone isn�t ringing, captain-you�re doing that yourself-Look here-� I silenced the warden by holding up a finger, as the call was obviously very important. I nodded and issued a few general affirmations: �yes, yes...I understand... make it so... engage.�
I hung up and looked at the warden apologetically. �Very sorry, my good man, but we�ve got the wind above us here and I must go on deck. May I walk you to your boat?�
�Sails? This is a reformatory! May I at least have a slice of that cake before I go?�
I immediately slapped his request down; it was unthinkable that I should deprive my not-so-uncle. �No. It�s my cake, I paid for it with my own money. Nobody else can have any. Get your own. Good day!� Once he was out of my office I led him to the ladder above his boat and then to the roof, confused by my own deception.
