Jack Ellison (MC's POV)
Chaotic.
If there was ever a way to describe this nice sunny November morning, then chaotic would fit the bracket perfectly.
Why, you might ask?
I suppose that could be attributed to the number of people sitting in my living room… Mom and Dad were a given, obviously. But then came the others.
Mom's parents, i.e., my grandpa Hunt and grandma Grace, my Dad's brother and his wife, Mr. Lucas and Mrs. Charlotte Ellison, along with their 16-year-old son Branson, my dear cousin.
Not to mention Bessie and Vincent, who were chatting in hushed whispers in a far corner, while the closest members of my family were engaged in a rather spirited conversation about… well, me.
"Well, of course, he skipped 2 grades, he's got my blood after all! And no Hunt has ever been anything less than extraordinary!" Grandpa boasted, while chugging a cold brew like nobody's business.
Grandma scoffed rather loudly at that, "Oh please, Rusty! You couldn't find your way around a dishwasher without dousing the kitchen back in the day-"
"Hey! How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?!"
"What? The name you were given at your birth, 'Rusty'?"
Grandpa flushed and stuttered, as Lucas shook his head in exasperation, "Neverthless-" He looked at me pointedly, "Congratulations are in order, young Jack. Skipping a grade is no joke, much less skipping 2 before hitting your teens, unlike others-" Before his wife butted in loudly.
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean? Don't you dare start again, Lucas Ellison! Branson is very gifted; he is just not wired towards studying!" Before turning to me, her face softening up considerably, "Oh, nothing against you, Jacky, we are all very proud of you for that, and now look at you! An author, and so young at that-"
"Whatever." Muttered Branson, as he sulked into his chair, looking like he wished to be anywhere else but here.
I don't blame him, not really. Having a closely related genius in the family who outperforms you at every turn is a pain in the ass, and I genuinely pity him for it… Or at least I did. Would've continued if he hadn't been caught trying to buy a six-pack with a fake ID, gone to Juvie for a few months, and then flunked his finals, having to repeat the year.
And his parents didn't make things easy, considering how they lavished me with praise at every turn, all the while asking him to learn a thing or two from my example. Which, to a 16-year-old smack dab in the middle of his rebellious phase… they might as well have called him stupid in 8 languages.
"No-no, you don't get to say that, young man, not after everything you put this family through with your little stunt-" Charlotte's face transformed into something fierce as she launched into an extended tirade about how he disappointed his friends, his teachers, his family, and most important of all… Jesus.
Yeah… they are catholic. And I'm talking about the ardent devotees, baptised and all. Uncle wanted to marry my Aunt, so he converted before marriage. Respect his dedication on one hand, but on the other… I would rather not say.
My grandpa used to be in the army before suffering a knee injury that led him to be honorably discharged, and after serving in quite possibly the biggest war of this century and witnessing atrocities of all kinds, his belief in God and his motherland quickly dried up, leading him to uproot his family and travel across the atlantic to the land of opportunities, where he founded a nifty little garage on the outskirts of Pasadena.
Did pretty well for himself, actually, before selling it in its entirety and retiring with a hefty sum stashed away in a bank.
As for Grandma, halfway into her 40s, she had a midlife crisis of sorts and ended up opening a bakery, which she operated well into her 50s before being diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and promptly closing shop to look after her health.
And that's my lovely little family in a nutshell. Sure, we have a distant relative or two on Dad's side, but they might as well be estranged, judging by the frequency of our meet-ups, or lack thereof.
A couple of minutes more of the hubbub as Mom and Dad try to helplessly mediate, all the while I lick my plate of my Mama's delicious scrambled eggs and toast, before Vincent loudly clears his throat.
"The broadcast's starting everyone! I suggest we all quiet down for the next few minutes and take our seats now." He says in a dry tone, while Bessie nods along, already making a move for the armchair. Mom beats her to it though, while I look on proudly at her pettiness.
Dad turns to me, "All right then Jack, your moment is up, feeling butterflies in your stomach?" He asks jokingly with a smirk.
I shoot back without missing a beat, "Nope, only the fluffy warm goodness of Ma's cooking." I clap my hands, smiling brightly, "Now, where's the remote?"
Grandpa fishes it out of the sofa before putting on KTLA channel 5, as 'AM Los Angeles' flashes on the pixelized screen.
Sigh. If there was one thing that I can confidently say I missed to hell and back from my colorful past… It was the technology.
The 80s, I am afraid, leave a lot to be desired in that respect.
And then it starts.
Regis Philbin, in all of his glory, stared at the book in his hands, face incredulous for a second, before dramatically looking at the camera with his hands out.
"Okay, okay, everybody, sit down for this- trust me, you'll want to soon enough if you aren't already. Also, you're not gonna believe this. You see I got my hands on a book here from Sun and Moon publications called Zootopia. And- wait for it – the author is 11 years old!"
Light chuckles follow his statement, as his trademark warm delivery flows out effortlessly.
"I mean when I was 11, I was still trying hard not to fall off my bike onto my butt, and this kid… this kid is busy writing 300 pages of city politics and animal mysteries!"
A series of oohs plays out. Well, at least the audience finds it impressive. Not to forget, Regis.
"I mean, I got some of the reviews here – check this out. The LA Times says, 'A startlingly mature debut…' I had to read that one twice. And School Library Journal? 'One of the most inventive young adult novels we've seen in years.' I mean, really- the kid is eleven!"
Another laugh rings out, as my family shares glances, all the while Dad just stares at me proudly.
Not gonna lie, it felt pretty good. To have my efforts appreciated to such an extent… everyone's a sucker for praise, no exceptions.
Regis skims through the book enthusiastically before stopping at a page.
"Here's a gem from page seventy-eight- listen to this right here, 'The rabbit detective narrowed her eyes. Predators and prey may share a street, but justice shares no favorites.' BOOM! I couldn't even spell 'prey' when I was eleven!"
"Holy cr- crackers you wrote that?!" Grandpa looked at me weird, but also impressed.
"Yep. Though you knew though, didn't read it yet?" I looked at him with narrowed eyes.
He had the decency to look away in fluster, all the while muttering, "300 pages kiddo, my equipment manuals weren't that long…"
"So, if you've got teens, or even adults who like clever, funny, and surprisingly thoughtful stories – this is your book. It's a little bit adventure, a little bit social commentary… and a whole lotta imagination."
He looked left and right before whispering into the camera conspiratorially.
"And the best and most unbelievable part of it all? Eleven years old. Just… think about that for a second. Eleven!"
Another smattering of laughs accompanied the line, with some light applause mixed in.
"So, pick up Zootopia at your local bookstore. Trust me, folks – it's gonna make you laugh, it's gonna make you think… and it's gonna make you wonder what the heck you were doing at eleven years old!"
This time, the applause was heavier, reverberating throughout the studio as the screen panned out momentarily, before fading into the next segment.
Grandpa switched off the telly, before the silence was broken by Mom breaking into tears, before drawing me into a warm hug, joined by Dad. "Oh, I am so proud of you, my little Jack-in-the-box… just – so so proud!"
Embracing them tightly, I muttered back, "Thanks Ma. And Dad. Wouldn't have happened without you two."
I managed to bask in their affection for an entirety of 3 full blissful seconds… before the landline cord rang with a fury.
Dad quickly disentangled himself before rushing to pick up.
"Hello, you have reached the Ellison residence – Douglas! Yes-yes, I am good, spectacular in fact- Yes, yes I saw the broadcast, we all did actually. Huge fans of Regis after all- yeah, no-yes we are all very happy no doubt, bursting with joy even- what's that? You want to know if Vincent is around? Yes-yes he is, hold on a moment- let me put him on!"
He holds out the phone to my agent, who disarms him of it before putting it to his ear. "Yes, Doug? … Uh-huh. Okay. I see- no I do, I understand perfectly- well of course we will be more than happy to go forward with it… All right yes, I will bring him down to the office today… YES! YES- A HUNDRED FUDGING TIMES YES- I'm sorry I- apologies for the behaviour of my passion, we will be more agreeable to it in fact- I'm on my way right now, you just wait there you hear?! You keep things ready, and I'll head out in a minute after briefing them. No- thank you man! Seriously, also- you are welcome… Yeah bye." He finished before cutting the line.
We all stared at him for a second before Charlotte finally couldn't keep it in. "Well?! Don't keep up in suspense mister- Out with it!"
Every single person present in the room shared her sentiment, even though no one was as vocal about it as her.
He grinned widely before spreading his arms wide, "That was the editor-in-chief, for those not in the know. It seems that Jack here," He flicked his finger at me, "has been invited to be interviewed on KCET's 'Life and Times' and… by our very own Regis Philbin on the show we just finished watching." He held out his hands with a self-satisfied smirk, as if waiting for the applause to start any second.
I couldn't even fault him for it. Would've done the same in his position.
The room erupts into a cacophony of cheers and noise, as everyone stands up, a slew of hugs and pats passed around like coffee at the local diner, before everyone finally settled when Vince cleared his throat again.
"Mhm-uhm, I was not finished." He stared at me, his eyes reflecting a rare glee, "Jack, you've received offers for book signings at a couple of stores and libraries- INCLUDING but not limited to… the public library central branch."
And that very moment, I came to a stark realization.
I had made it.
Months of my hand cramping constantly, late nights followed by groggy mornings, and now, finally, the results were in.
I had done it. Finally fucking done it!
So do forgive my abrupt loss of composure as I whooped loudly enough for the first time ever, startling the living daylights out of the most precious people in my life.
Author's Note: Now, I know Regis left LA for NY in 82, but I just had to risk an anachronism for this. It's Regis Philbin after all... 'nuff said.
P.S., don't forget to add this to your library for regular updates.
P.P.S., comments and interaction... feed my motivation. So again, don't hesitate on my account.