Here I am

From time-to-time I like to let you all in on the gloriousness it is to be me.

Wow, that was a bit over-bearing. What I mean is; I don’t often talk about myself. Today I’m changing all that. You see, I was asked a question. A question that struck my very identity. Many have wanted this information, but few have the bravado to ask it. A question like this, could be so powerful, it might strike society like a lightning bolt of uncontrollable doubt. This earth-shattering question could cause earthquakes and mile-high tidal-waves. Both physically and into my very being, and that of the existential universe.

Well maybe not all that. However, it sounded cool to say all of it. Actually, it was just a simple clarification, but it did strike me as odd. Odd because I’ve never answered this silly simple question. I’ve looked through every one of my four-hundred-seventeen posts, and can’t find the answer in any of them. Okay, I reread that last sentence, and it was even hard for me to swallow. Truth is, I looked through a few of them, got bored, and figured I’d just answer the question, here-and-now, instead of doing all that tedious research. I hate research!

A bunch of hype

Now that I’ve given you all the hype, you probably want to know what the question is. Those folks who’ve written lots of books call this buildup. I call it Bull Crap. I hate it when authors do it. But I want to be a published author someday, so I did it here. What do you think? Remember to watch your shoes while reading that part. Don’t step in it. It’s gotten pretty thick.

The question is really simple: How did I get the name Mr. Ohh!? The asker was certain I wasn’t born with it, and I wasn’t. Although it is a cool name to have. Frankly, I wish I had been born with it. My real name is awful. My last name has letters that don’t even exist in the English alphabet. One of them is still used in German, the other was lost in the restructuring of Europe after World War 1. It’s a terrible name.

Bad names

My first name is seven letters too long. They may be on my birth certificate, but I haven’t used them since kindergarten, when even at that early age, I realized just how stupid they were. I probably shouldn’t say this, but every important document I have, could be called a forgery, because they don’t carry my legal name. And no! I’m not going to tell it to you. I will however answer the question.

Twenty plus years ago I became a Stand-Up comedian. On my first amateur night, I gave the host my real name. He butchered it so bad, it actually became my first joke of the night. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Everyone throughout my life has butchered my name. Even, sad to say, some of my relatives. Of all people, they should know how it’s pronounced. But No!!

I realized I couldn’t rely on every host tearing up my name so badly, so I changed it. I took my father’s first name and mother’s maiden name, reversed them, and that became comedy name. This name was still ridiculous, but at least it was pronounceable. It served me well for many years.

Off the road again

Then, for various reasons, I came off the road, got married, and had children. Sadly, my sons carry my name as well. No one can pronounce their names either. Don’t worry, therapy is doing wonders and they’re progressing at a good pace. But I digress.

Fast forward eight years; I was one of the room dads for my son’s third grade field trip. We went to the zoo. I love the zoo. I’ve been to every major zoo in the country. This was going to be great. Well, it would be for me if not the kids. The teacher instructed us to visit certain animals and find out certain facts. Boring!

We’re goin’ to the zoo

The parents were each assigned six students to take around. Most of them followed the script. I went a bit free form telling bad jokes about the animals and fun facts I’d learned in my travels. Eventually, my group of six became twelve, then eighteen, then even twenty-four. Other parents, and assigned children, were joining my group so they didn’t have to tell boring crap from the pages given. They let me do all the work.

Now, I had told my kids to call me Frank because I was going to be frank with them. It’s a bad joke but it worked. If they had questions, and they all did, they raised their hands and said, “Frank, I was wondering…” The rest of the kids tried to do the same, but their chaperones told their young charges, use my real name. As you can probably imagine, the results weren’t good. 

Then came little Ashley. She was short, had a lisp, wore pink glasses, and cute as they come. We were watching the tigers. I just made a lame joke about them playing baseball, because the school mascot was a tiger. Ashley’s hand shot up, and I selected her to speak. She said, and I’m quoting as best as I can, “Mr. Otca… Mr. Octus… Mr. Ostcal… Mr. Oztus… Oh hell, Mr. Ohh! for crying out loud.

Surprise surprise

Those words coming out of that small body were the funniest thing I’d ever witnessed. My knees went weak from laughter. I was literally rolling on the ground. But more than just little Ashley. Her mother was one of the parents with kids who merged with my group after Ashley begged her to join. Mrs. Barner’s face was priceless. The look of shock should have been saved on a meme somewhere. Everyone else including the other parents were with me on the floor. Well, except for Ashley. She stomped her foot and yelled, “Isn’t anyone going to answer my question?”

It took a zoo volunteer to come over and calm down the situation. While this was going on they actually roped off the tiger area, for a few minutes. We were in the way, and because we couldn’t stand, they couldn’t move us. I don’t know how long we were there, but we attracted a lot of attention.

Mrs. Barner’s face went beet red with embarrassment. It stayed that way for the rest of the day. I tried several times to talk to her and apologize. She was having none of it. As the children boarded the bus for home, she did read me the riot act for being so informal. I told her, I did nothing and if she would’ve let Ashley call me Frank, the situation never would’ve happened. She did not appreciate me passing the blame back to her. Frankly I didn’t care, I had a new stage name.

The new me

So now you know the story. I’ve been Mr. Ohh! ever since. Actually, all the kids I perform for seem to like it. None of you has certainly ever complained.

Even though I have no idea where she might be, every time I use it, I smile and whisper…

Thank You Ashley!!!