"I'm in some class with you, right?" I asked him.
"Science," he said. "I sit next to you in science class."
"Oh yeah, that's right, now I remember." Although for the life of me I have no memory of him sitting next to me.
"I'm Calvin," he said. "Calvin Schwa."
With that Ira gasped, "You're the kid they call the Schwa?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Ira took a step back.
"I'm Anthony Bonano," I told him, "but everyone calls me Antsy. These are my friends Howie and Ira." Then I pointed to the head in his hands. "You already met Manny."
He took Manny's head back to his body. "So what's all this for, anyway?"
"Pisher Plastics product stress test," I told him, trying to sound professional.
"Manny gets an F," Howie said. "He's supposed to be unbreakable."
"Technology fails again," I said, all the while noticing how Ira still kept his distance from the Schwa, as if he were radioactive, like some of those flounder they found off Canarsie Pier.
The Schwa knelt next to Manny's headless body.
"Technically he's not broken," the Schwa said.
"If your head comes off, you're broken," says Howie. "Trust me.
"See? Look here." He pointed to the neck. "His head is held on by a ball-and-socket joint. It just popped off—watch." Then the Schwa snapped Manny's head back on as if it were a giant Barbie. I was both relieved and disappointed. It was good to know my dad's work was successful, but upsetting to know that I couldn't destroy it.
"So what do we do to him next?" Howie asked.