Hannibal King is an articulate, educated, Man of Letters — most of them are consonants, but he was able to buy some vowels with low interest student loans and some Pell grants.

His studies have earned him multiple degrees including (but not limited to) an M.A. in The Beatles, Popular Music and Society from Liverpool Hope University, an A.S. in Bowling Industry Management and Technology from Vincennes University, and a Certificate in Cannabis Cultivation from Oaksterdam University in California (where else?).

However, when considering all of his degrees, he is the most proud of 98.6 because it is the closest he may ever get to “normal.”

Hannibal spends his evenings supervising the food line at the shelter maintained by FOG’M, the Fraternal Order of the Grand Misconception — a volunteer organization with members dedicated to appearing to do good for the community while actually hiding attempts to build a winning fantasy football team.

Many of his serving line accomplices found themselves joining the cause not because of dedication and good citizenship, but because of community service sentencing by the local judge.

On a few celebrated occasions, some of the forced participants eventually renounced their criminal ways, set their internal GPS to the Straight and Narrow, and returned of their own accord to stand shoulder to shoulder with Hannibal and Company. One such convert was none other than Ingmar Norska, the Viking(ish) travel agent that found his way to the shelter’s food line via criminal sentencing for failure to license his dog.

After his stint serving in the food line, Ingmar conformed with society and placed a stylish black leather collar with a chic metallic registration tag around the neck of his beloved pooch.

His dear pet is a frightening mongrel of questionable lineage, blended from labrador and chihuahua, sometimes referred to as a LabRat. Ingmar liked the look of the collar so much; he had a matching choker and tag made to adorn his own neck. This look went well with his shaved head that, when polished, could reflect the sun and interrupt reconnaissance gathering from orbiting spy satellites.

As the Primary Hash Slinger at the shelter, one of Hannibal’s favorite responsibilities is to offer a hearty, “Welcome back,” to returning, reformed food line alumni such as Ingmar.

“It’s good to be back,” responded Ingmar in his Americanized, Norwegian accent. This was accompanied by an enthusiastic smile and a jingle from his new dog collar. “What are we serving, today?”

“Something resembling meat, pretend potatoes from a box, and a side salad made from a green and leafy substance — hopefully edible,” lamented Hannibal in his most positive voice. “I’m glad I’m not standing on the other side of this table.”

With the reunion pleasantries out of the way, Hannibal succumbed to his usual prying ways and questioned Ingmar about his style choices; specifically, the clinking dog collar cinched around his neck.

“It reminds me of my excursion down a path of crime due to failure to license my dog. Now, my beast bears the mark of legal registration — and, out of solidarity, so do I.”

Ingmar was singularly pleased with the transformation in his life.

He had travelled a long way along the road to conformity and wearing a matching black leather, studded collar was his small way of showing the world how well he is now fitting in.

“I’m proud of the progress you’ve made,” gushed Hannibal. “You picked the right crime to publicly show your reformation, especially with such a dramatic symbol of repentance.”

This last comment was a bit confusing to Ingmar.

“Why is failure to license my dog the ‘right’ crime to commit?”

Hannibal had a simple response.

“What badge would you wear if you had been caught walking your dog without a pooper scooper?”

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.