In March I was invited back to Eric's place for a Friday night sleep over. While we were watching That's Incredible on TV, Todd sauntered into the room and asked, "What are you two fairies watching?" The question was rhetorical because he walked over and switched off the TV. "C'mon. Get yer coats. We're leaving."
Eric and I leapt off the couch and ran to the closet. Without looking back at us, Todd pulled a large cowboy onto his head and made his way out of the house.
Eric laughed, "We got to hurry; he'll leave us if we're not in the truck by the time he starts it!" We were falling over each other trying to get through the kitchen, out the door, and into the night.
The pickup's engine was turning over when we reached the passenger door, but the door was locked. Todd yelled through the rolled down window, "Where's your Wayne Doba hats? I got mine!" He sharply pointed to the cowboy hat on top of his head. "Ya can't get in the truck without yer Wayne Dobas!"
I had no clue what he was talking about, and apparently neither did Eric, "What?!! C'mon, Todd! Let us in!" Todd just laughed and shook his head as he revved the engine over and over.
Seizing an opportunity, Eric quickly reached over and pulled the door's lock knob up and yanked open the door before Todd could react. We both dove into the cab while gravel began to spew from beneath the trucks tires. As we sped away from the farm, Todd muttered to the windshield, "No Dobas, huh? That's pretty damn sad... good thing I brought my magic marker."
Eric and I exchanged a worried glance as those two words, magic marker, hung in the air above us like a guillotine blade waiting to drop.
For the next half hour Todd entertained us with his daredevil driving. The truck sped through back road stop signs and weaved from one side of the dark road to the other. Then, without warning, Todd slammed on the brakes and sharply turned the steering wheel to the left. The truck slid sideways until it ground to a stop, its nose now facing the opposite direction.
By the time I peeled my palms off the dashboard, Todd was out of the truck and jerking the passenger door open. "Since you sissies ain't got yer Doba hats, we'll have to do something else!" He held a long, black marker in his right fist and he yanked off the cap off with his teeth like a solider pulling a pin from a grenade. Then he climbed into the truck.
When Todd was done with us, Eric and I were sporting what looked like black caterpillars underneath our noses.
Todd got back behind the wheel and looked over at his handiwork, "That should do the trick!" And with a laugh he threw the truck in gear.
By the time we got to the mall in Sioux Falls - I had no idea where we were until I recognized a few of the city's landmarks - it was near 9:30 p.m. and the stores were closed. But the mall's side entrance led to a theater, and that's where Todd was taking us. Man, I was excited. Going to a movie - any movie - was a special occasion. Going to a movie with Todd Johnson was going to be unreal.
Of the three "Now Showing" movie posters, which one do you think Todd picked for us?
Yep. Todd was taking us to The Funhouse. And yes, the deformed mouth looked scary as all get out, but when I read the poster, one letter also stood out.
The R.
I'd like to tell you I was a huge, junor high rebel, but that would be a lie. I was always afraid of getting into trouble.
I also wasn't the only one who was worried. Eric nervously called to his big brother,"Todd? How are you gonna get us in that movie? We're not old enough!"
"Shhh!" Todd also hushed us with his hands, and he doubled checked that we were out of the ticket taker's ear shot, "We're gonna be fine. I'm 17, and you've got your 'stashes."
Confused, I asked, "What do you mean? We don't have anything stashed anywhere."
Todd walked over to me and leaned in close, "Your stashes! They're right under your noses, Numbnuts. You've got a mustache on!" He pointed under his own nose for emphasis, "We are gonna be fine. C'mon!" And then he got in line to buy tickets.
I was stunned. He had planned all of this out? He knew he was taking us to a R rated movie? And his solution to getting us in was marker mustaches? We were sooo dead.
It didn't take Todd any time to get to the gal who was working in the ticket booth. We were the only people in the mall's hallway. That also meant there was nowhere to hide.
Tipping his hat at the young woman, Todd drawled, "Howwwdeee. Like to buy three of dem tickets to yer Funhouse."
"Okay... who are these tickets fer?" Already the gal was playing along.
Todd pointed at us, "Just me and ma posse."
"Ummm... The Funhouse is rated R. Your posse doesn't look old enough to see a movie that's rated R. Do they have I.D.s?"
"They don't need no I.D. These gents got themselves mustaches! You can see 'em for yerself." Todd motioned to the two boys who barely stood as tall as his shoulders, "Men, wiggle them 'stashes for the little lady."
We approached the glass and did our best to wiggle the stain above our lips, but all that did was make the girl laugh. I don't think it helped that I couldn't stop shaking my lip and my butt at the same time.
"Cute. But I'm going have to see proof that they're 17 before I can let you in."
Todd slowly shrugged his shoulders once and heavily sighed. "Fine. I guess we'll take three tickets to watch that sweet Gary Coleman do his thang..."
With a smile, but no comment, the gal handed over three tickets that had magically slid out of the stainless steel counter top. Actually, I was a bit relieved. That mouth on the Funhouse poster was pretty intimidating. Once we passed the ticket booth, Todd shoved us towards the theater's bathroom.
Like the lobby, the bathroom was empty except for us. "Okay, I don't care what these tickets say, I'm not paying money to watch the Different Strokes kid do jack. What you guys are going to do is act like you're going into that theater number two, and I'm going to buy popcorn. When the girl turns to fill up the bag, haul ass into theater three. Got it?"
We both nodded, but I was feeling a bit sick. I hadn't sneaked into anything before. Swallowing hard, I followed Eric and we walked as slowly as we could towards the doors of theater two. Todd went to buy the popcorn, and same girl who was in the box office came over to work the snack bar. Since she was keeping an eye on us, we actually opened the doors and entered theater two, but we kept the doors open a crack to watch for our chance. As Todd predicted, the gal did have to turn her back on us, and that's when we bolted down the velvet rope and into theater three.
I held my breath for a full minute, absolutely sure an alarm was going to go off or someone would scream, "What are you kids doing in here!" But I was wrong. There were only about ten other people in the theater, and none of them even bothered to look our way. But just to safe, we sat at the very end in last row of seats and tried to make ourselves as small as possible.
On screen a trailer for The Final Conflict: Omen 3 was playing, and as the narrator read, "The power of evil is no longer in the hands of a child..." a hand slammed on my shoulder and gripped it tight. I jumped and turned to see Todd's grin shining in the dark. "What are you fairies doing in the back row? You can't see Wayne Doba from back here!" And with that, Todd led us to the front of the theater.
Again, I was sure we'd be busted by drawing attention to ourselves, but again, no one said boo to us. Well, at least until the opening credits for The Fun House began. That's when this appeared onscreen:
I didn't ever pay attention to names that appeared in a movie's credits, so I was really startled when out of the blue Todd jumped out of his seat with both fists raised above his head, and he started shouting, "YEAH! ALLLL RIGHT! WAYNE DOBA! DOOOOH BAH! DOOOOOH BAH! DOOOOOH BAH!" Todd was dancing a celebratory jig in front of the audience.
As expected, a voice boomed from the darkness behind us, "Sit down!" Surprisingly, Todd didn't overreact. He stopped dancing, flipped off the darkness behind him, and sat down. My guess is that he didn't want to miss any part of the movie.
The only thing I can tell you about the seeing the actual movie for the first time is that within five minutes, up on that great big screen was a naked girl in a shower. It was A-mazing! And it was because of Todd that I got to see her.
When the movie was over Eric and I got up to leave, but Todd shot an arm across our chests, "Wait! There's more!" He pointed to the credits that had begun to crawl up the screen. When "The Monster: Wayne Doba" appeared, Todd grabbed his hat and started waving it over his head as he hooted and hollered, "WAYNE DOBA! DOOOOH BAH! DOOOOOH BAH! DOOOOOH BAH! DOOOOOH BAH! DOOOOOH BAH!" He kept this up until the credits were over and the lights had come on.
It was past midnight by the time the truck rolled to a stop in front of their house, and when we got inside sleeping bags were waiting for Eric and I in the living room.
The next morning I was wakened by a foot lightly kicking my leg, "Time to RISE and SHINE, boys! Breakfast is ON!" Todd left the room, and Eric sat up in his sleeping bag and giggled, "Todd made breakfast! You can smell 'em. Last time he made over a hundred!"
"He made a hundred of what?"
Eric slid out of his bag, "C'mon! Let's go eat!"
I wasn't sure if I had heard Eric right, but the smell coming from the kitchen made my stomach growl, and I realized that in all of the excitement of last night, I didn't have dinner. My stomach rumbled again, and I unzipped my sleeping bag in pursuit of what ever Todd had made.
When I entered the kitchen Todd Johnson surprised me for the last time. On the middle of the kitchen table was plate holding a foot high pile of something. On closer inspection, I realized it what it was. Pancakes. Todd had made about fifty pancakes, each one the size of a quarter. Mini pancakes aren't anything new now, but in 1981 I hadn't seen anything like them. It was hilarious. I couldn't help but think, nothing this guy does is normal. Who even thinks this kind of stuff up?
Todd reached past my gaze, grabbed a fist of pancakes and shoved them in his mouth. He then walked towards the door, but before he left he said with his mouth full of cake, "What in the hell happened to your faces? You've got crap scribbled all over ya." Eric and I looked above each other's upper lip and burst out laughing.
Fin
That was the last time I would get to visit Eric's home. As spring turned into summer, Eric got bigger and so did his responsibilities on the farm. By eighth grade we were taking different classes, and while one of us had chores after school, the other was in a sport's practice. With a school class of only 40 students, you wouldn't think it would be possible to lose track of someone in such a small group, but that's actually pretty easy to do. One moment a person is standing right in front of you, and then the next moment they are fading into the fabric of your background. Rock solid friendships can turn out to be nothing more than handfuls of wet sand. On the day I graduated from high school, I don't think I even thought to tell Eric Johnson goodbye.
I never really saw Todd again, either. I had heard a rumor that he had left the farm to join the military, but no one ever confirmed that. All I ever really knew of Todd were the stories I have just shared with you.
That is, until I remembered that we have this thang called the interweb, and I could use it to see what happened to my junior high hero. With such a common surname, I thought I'd have mountains of web pages to scale before I found the right Todd Johnson, but that wasn't the case. I Googled his name +Rock Valley+Iowa, and the search engine lead me straight to Todd's obituary.
Sad, I know.
After reading Todd's Life Legacy, I decided that it really didn't do his memory any justice. At least not my memory of him. In my mind, Todd will forever be that fearless kid in the hall with a good sidekick and a mischievous magic marker. So, I wrote this post to honor that memory.
Last night I watched my Funhouse DVD after Charlotte went to bed. I was messing around with some other projects as the movie played, but as it ended I put everything down and waited for Wayne Doba's name to appear. When it did, I threw my fists above my head and whisper-shouted to an empty room, "Doba! Doba! Doba!"
Todd, thank you for the memories.
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