Obey the Magic 8 Ball

Something about a Magic 8 Ball brings out the little kid in everyone. Why else would I be waiting at Daniel’s bus stop wearing a pair of shorts on my head?

The “short-haired” look aside, my day following the Magic 8 Ball’s guidance has proven the appeal of the little black toy that answers your every question. My friends, kids, restaurant employees—people were drawn to the 8 Ball like it was an unguarded bank vault.

There are 20 possible replies—10 positive, 5 negative, and 5 non-committal—and I ran the gamut the whole day, whether I wanted to or not. I was on a roll early, with the first four questions going my way, including the reply to 9-year-old Daniel’s question: “Will I be the master and will Dad do everything I say?” The 8 Ball’s reply: Better not tell you now.

Sorry, Daniel, but it looks like I have only one Master today. I was working from home, so around 9, I asked the boss, “Should I start work now?” 8 Ball: My sources say no. Well, say hello to my little friend, and I like the way it thinks.

I wasn’t such a big fan of others’ thoughts, though, after I invited people to ask the 8 Ball questions for me. Linda asked, “Will John go to Home Depot, his least favorite place, and fix the grass trimmer, his least favorite tool?” 8 Ball: Signs point to yes.

Least favorite tool? I didn’t know I had a favorite one. Or could even name three.

On the way, I decided to push the envelope a little. I asked, “Should I obey the speed limit?” 8 Ball: Concentrate and ask again. I put the 8 Ball on the seat and decided to ask if I should run a red light, when out of nowhere a cop pulled up behind me. You’re as likely to see a dolphin as a cop in my small town, so I think the 8 Ball was sending me a message.

I realized I can use the Magic 8 Ball powers for evil—like when I considered asking if I should egg my friend Phil’s house—or for good, such as, “Can I eat out for lunch?” 8 Ball: Without a doubt. To the lunch, not the egging.

“That thing telling you anything good,” the woman behind the Cosi counter asked with a laugh as my little friend and I ordered.

“Let’s ask the 8 Ball,” I said. “Have you told me anything good today?” 8 Ball: Yes, definitely. Cocky little thing, isn’t it?

And speaking of cocky, my poker-playing buddies decided to chime in with their own unique requests. Which is why I had shorts on my head as my son’s bus rumbled toward me and our friend Ann, who is Elliot's mom. (She saw me wear my clothes inside out for a previous blog task, so she’s learned to roll with whatever comes from the Roach Motel for the Childishly Insane.)

Kids being kids, the guy with shorts on his head wasn’t avoided, but treated like Santa Claus handing out Halloween candy and iPods. They all wanted to ask questions, so I let each ask the 8 Ball anything they wanted me to do.

When Halloween rolls around, I’ll be dropping Mount Everest-sized fists of candy into Elliot’s bag for asking, “Can Mr. Roach take his pants off his head?” 8 Ball: It is certain. Thankfully Elliot remembered to include those last two words in his request.