I’ve got a trick knee. It doesn’t do card tricks or magic tricks or anything like that, but it will give out on me at the most inopportune times. Like when I’m doing The Monkey Dance or walking down the basement stairs carrying a crate of melons.
My trick knee makes a startlingly loud clicking noise. Every time my knee clicks, my dog Roscoe thinks someone is trying to unlock the front door. That’s kind of like a magic trick, now that I think about it.
I like to play tricks on Roscoe. He’s really gullible. There was this one time I wrote him a seven-page letter and signed it “Mr. Nibbles” (the cat that lives down the street). I mailed the letter to our house, addressed to Roscoe. I’ll never forget the day that letter arrived — Roscoe was convinced Mr. Nibbles had written the letter. I had a hard time keeping a straight face.
Last week, as I was carrying a crate of melons downstairs, someone picked the lock on the front door and burglarized all the rooms upstairs. Roscoe had ignored the lock picking, thinking it was my trick knee.