Chapter 260: Bingo's Grand Entrance!
Outside a residential home.
Reporters had gathered in force.
Tim and Shelly, holding their adorable little girl, were overjoyed. When Chuck arrived, they thanked him profusely.
"Detective Chuck, congratulations on cracking another case so quickly and rescuing an innocent child. We've heard there was also a little boy involved. What's your response to Max Henson?"
A reporter, always looking for controversy, seized the moment to thrust a microphone in Chuck's face.
Chuck rarely answered reporters' questions. After confirming Jamie was unharmed, he was about to leave with Chandler when he heard the question and turned back.
"Jamie has been found, alive and well.
Meanwhile, Max Henson is still insisting he told everyone that Shelly murdered her own daughter!
Why?
Can't you see the obvious answer?
It's clear Max Henson is lying!
Max Henson's fans—he's exploiting your trust, lying right to your faces!
Want to know how I'm so sure?
Because that's who he is!
And this time, the ones playing the role of fool number one and fool number two, getting their intelligence stomped on, are all of you.
Unless you're an actual fool, you can already see that.
Doesn't feel great being treated like a fool, does it?
But I really don't have the right to comment on that, so I'll let my assistant tell you."
With that, he pulled Chandler forward and walked away.
"Me?"
Chandler, caught completely off guard, looked at Chuck's retreating figure with bewilderment and called out, "Are you serious? Do I look like a fool to you?"
His expression was so awkward that the reporters burst into laughter.
Hearing the laughter, Chandler turned around, shrugged, and with his characteristic self-deprecating humor said, "Okay, guess I forgot. To him, I really am a fool. Believe me, nobody knows this better than me. Know how I'm so sure?"
"How?"
The reporter who'd stirred things up earlier was hungry for more drama and jumped right in.
"Because he pays me for it!"
This wasn't Chandler's first time in the spotlight. After Chuck helped him plan his path toward becoming a comedy superstar, he'd started honing his craft doing stand-up at bars and other entry-level venues.
So while he was still a bit nervous, he delivered his performance with growing confidence.
"That's right!
You heard correctly!
Detective Chuck specially created an assistant position for me—part-time.
The salary isn't bad either.
At first, I was worried. I thought, does he have a thing for me?
Don't get the wrong idea!
I'm not gay!
It's just that everyone who meets me says I give off that vibe!
Can you believe it?"
"We believe it!"
This time, everyone shouted in unison, followed by another wave of laughter.
"Alright."
Chandler shrugged with a self-deprecating smile. "Looks like you're with the majority on this one. Truth really is held by the minority.
Chuck is part of that minority.
He saw right through it the moment I said, 'I'm not!' Just when I was starting to doubt myself after all of you kept saying I was, he told me with absolute certainty that I wasn't.
I immediately said, 'Who are you?
What gives you the right to overturn everyone's opinion of me?'
Then a female coworker enthusiastically tried to set me up on a blind date in the office break room... with a guy!
I wanted to drag her over to Chuck and say, 'Look!
The people have spoken!
How can you say I'm not, just because I say I'm not and you say I'm not, when clearly I am?'
But I didn't do that!
Want to know why?
Because the actual gay guy my coworker tried to set me up with straight-up said I wasn't on their radar.
Oh no!
I've been rejected!
I immediately fell into self-doubt.
Am I actually gay?
Then I realized something crucial: they do have gaydar, so they told me with absolute certainty that I wasn't.
And Chuck also told me with absolute certainty that I wasn't.
So basically... I felt like I'd discovered an incredible secret. For a moment, they were both too busy to pay attention to me, so with the confidence and smugness of someone who'd figured it all out, I went to find Chuck.
I looked at him with a knowing smile and said, 'I've discovered a big secret.'
He said, 'Have you now.'
I said, 'Yes,' and then laid out my theory, asking if he had a crush on me. I added, 'I'm sorry, but even though the salary is good, I sell my talent, not my body!'
He said, 'You are indeed very talented—worth every penny.'
I didn't like the way he was looking at me. Like I was an idiot.
But that couldn't be!
I'd figured out the truth.
Then he asked me, 'Who taught you math?'
Before I could even think, he told me not to bother and that I should file a complaint—not just against my math teacher, but against the entire American education system.
If my math hadn't been taught by the gym coach, or if our education system weren't so focused on keeping everyone happy and stress-free, I would've figured out the real truth ages ago.
I felt uneasy. The way he looked at me really did make me feel like an idiot.
But I was genuinely curious what this 'real truth' was, so I forced myself to ask despite my irritation.
He said, 'Isn't it possible this has nothing to do with being gay, and I simply find you hilarious? That you're worth paying for entertainment?'
I said, 'Impossible! Absolutely impossible!
Nobody would be that bored!'
He said, 'I'm rich!'
I said, 'Oh, well that explains it.'
He said, 'You get it now?'
I said, 'Of course I get it—I'm not stupid! Rich people's lives are so simple and boring; they need entertainers like me.'
He said, 'Bingo!'
I said, 'Where do you want me to go?
Oh, and by the way, let me introduce myself—my name is Chandler Bing!'
He was silent for a moment, then said he'd pay me more.
I was happy, but still a little confused.
He said, 'You deserve it.'
That night when I got home, I told all my friends the good news.
My friends looked conflicted, like they wanted to say something but couldn't.
I asked, 'What's wrong?'
Nobody would say—just congratulations all around.
Then my roommate Joey, who's always a beat behind everyone else, finally said, 'I know! Could it be that Chuck overestimated your intelligence at first, and now he realizes you're even dumber than he thought, so he had a change of heart and is paying you more?'
I immediately got defensive and gave him a stern lecture. How could a bored rich guy who casually says 'I'm rich' have any conscience?!
Joey quickly admitted he was wrong.
But that night, lying in bed, I tossed and turned. I had this nagging feeling that while Joey's comment wasn't entirely right, there might be something to it.
A few days later, I saw Chuck and finally asked, 'Are you treating me like a fool? Like watching a reality show?'
Chuck was quiet for a moment, then said he wanted a refund!
I said, 'Why?'
Chuck said, 'Someone as smart as you surely understands why.'
I said I didn't know, and even if I wanted to quit, I couldn't. I'd already gotten used to living on my new salary—if you cut it now, wouldn't my quality of life take a nosedive?
He said, 'Not only won't it decline, it'll improve.'
I asked, 'How?'
He said, 'You could try being a radio host. I've even come up with a name for your show: "Chandler the Genius!" The catchphrase would be "bingo!" Just like that Mad Max morning show!'
I said, 'No way! Absolutely not!'
He asked, 'Why? Even Max Henson—who shamelessly profits from tragedy, and worse yet, creates it and feeds off it himself—has tons of listeners and makes a fortune. Why couldn't someone like you, using your wit to entertain people, succeed?'
I said, 'I swore I'd never be like Max Henson again!'
He said, 'Sounds like there's a story there?'
I said, 'Of course there is, but you can't tell anyone.'
He said, 'Okay, I absolutely won't tell anyone.'
So I told him about fourth grade. My parents' messy divorce made me really sensitive, and the only way I knew how to protect myself was through sarcasm and cutting remarks.
There was this classmate named Susie, and we were both in the drama club together.
Once, during a performance, I lifted her skirt in front of everyone, which led to her being called 'Underwear Susie' until she moved away at eighteen.
At the time, I didn't think it was a big deal.
Years later, I matured and realized that being sarcastic is one thing, but it's better to direct it at yourself, not others—otherwise you'll have no friends and end up alone.
Mr. Heckles, who lived downstairs from me, was a prime example. When I was going through his estate after he died, I realized how similar we were.
So believe me!
I get it!
But what really drove home the serious consequences of being cruel with words was when I ran into Susie again.
My God!
She'd grown into the most beautiful woman!
I couldn't believe how gorgeous she was!
Yeah!
At first, I didn't even recognize her!
She was the one who said hello first.
What I found even more unbelievable was that during our time together, she straight-up asked how many more times did she need to touch my arm before I'd ask her out again.
That's when it clicked what she meant.
Naturally, I said yes. The date started out amazing, especially when she suggested we wear each other's underwear and fool around in the bathroom of this fancy restaurant. I thought she was the best girlfriend ever.
But after I went in with her, and she insisted I take off all my clothes except for her underwear, she ran off with my clothes and revealed the truth.
She'd held a grudge for over ten years about that fourth-grade incident, and now she'd finally gotten her revenge. She told me to come back in twenty years and tell her if she still remembered.
When I had to remove the bathroom stall door to cover myself and walk out of that fancy restaurant while everyone stared, I already knew the answer.
I would never forget it—not in twenty years, not in my entire life!
I completely understood how deeply I'd hurt Susie with my self-righteous, sarcastic cruelty.
Think about it—I was just an immature kid back then, and I still left Susie with that kind of psychological trauma.
Max Henson, fully aware of what his venomous words do, viciously accused a mother who deeply loved her daughter of murdering her own child. He whipped up countless unsuspecting fans to attack this grieving family, pushing a young mother to the brink of suicide.
If Detective Chuck hadn't stepped in, taken the case, and found Jamie, how long could that young mother have endured Max Henson's vicious attacks?
A month?
Six months?
A year?
And if something irreversible had happened, it probably would've become just another punchline for Max Henson.
Even with Jamie rescued and the truth revealed, Max Henson would at most offer a half-hearted apology.
When asked why he was so sure about attacking Jamie's mother, he'd just say 'freedom of speech' and move on. He'd abandon Jamie's family—whose lives were destroyed by his words—and find his next victim to verbally assault while raking in profits from his toxic commentary.
How could I possibly become another Max Henson!
Chuck said, 'Don't get so worked up. I'm not asking you to become Max Henson! I'm asking you to use your wit to entertain audiences. If you have to compare yourself to Max Henson, you'd be a combination of Max Henson and his two fool followers.'
I was thrilled to catch what I thought was the key point and asked, 'So you're saying Max Henson is actually gay?'
Chuck asked, 'Why are you so excited? You already give off that vibe, and this expression of yours could easily lead to misunderstandings, you know?'
I said, 'Nobody will misunderstand. I just wanted to tell Susie this news.'
Chuck asked, 'What does this have to do with Susie?'
I said, 'Oh, didn't I mention? Susie is Max Henson's girlfriend, but I don't think she has any idea what kind of person he really is! In every sense!
Whether Susie believes it or not, I do! Telling her Max Henson is gay is way better than telling her Max Henson is a sarcastic demon.'
After all, she was so badly hurt by my demonic behavior back then!
There's no way she developed Stockholm Syndrome because of me and fell for a devil like me, right?
Chuck paused and said, 'So you cheated on Max Henson?'
I looked at him in complete shock. After everything I just said, that's all you care about?
Chuck shook his head. 'Of course not. I'm just curious about the details of your reunion with Susie.'
I asked, 'Like what?'
Chuck said, 'Like the intimate details.'
I said, 'Do you think I'm stupid?!'
Chuck nodded. 'You're actually quite smart. It's time to officially launch your stand-up career.'
I was furious. 'Were you even listening? I, Chandler Bing, would rather die poor and starve than become a scumbag like Max Henson!'
Chuck asked, 'What about the $100,000 reward for Jamie?'
I said, 'That was fantastic! Without that hundred grand, we wouldn't have found Jamie and saved her family so quickly!'
Chuck asked, 'Imagine if you had countless rewards like that—how many Jamies could you save?'
I said, 'My math was taught by the gym teacher—you said so yourself! So you tell me!'
Chuck said, 'Great! You beat me to the punch! Let me tell you—both involve entertaining the masses. Rather than letting scum like Max Henson make money off his garbage and then persecute more victims, wouldn't it be better for you to use that money to help save countless Jamies?'
I was stunned, thinking, 'Oh no! I'm tempted! But I just said I'd rather starve than go down this path—what do I do?
I'm not Max Henson—I can't contradict myself right after saying something!'
So I said, 'Even if I wanted to work hard to save countless Jamies, and I'm willing to entertain people, I can't! I really can't be Max Henson!'
Chuck said, 'You don't need to be him—you just need to be yourself! Don't viciously attack others and leave them with lifelong psychological trauma! Direct your fire at yourself instead!'
My eyes lit up. This was familiar territory! These days, my greatest talent is self-deprecation!
Chuck said the only downside was the show probably wouldn't last long. After all, Max Henson could relentlessly attack anyone—his source of venom was endless—and I didn't have that advantage.
I immediately laughed. Everyone says Chuck is a super math genius, but turns out his math isn't that great after all.
I might be single, and my life has only been a little over twenty years.
But those twenty years have been packed with embarrassing moments—one joke per minute, sixty per hour, thousands per day, millions per year!
Even if Max Henson viciously attacked the entire world, he wouldn't have my joke collection—believe it or not!
Chuck said, 'I believe it. In that case, after your stand-up career takes off and you've earned enough to save countless Jamies, you might consider running for president.'
I was stunned. Me? President? No way!
'Why not?' Chuck said. 'You'll have genuinely helped save countless Jamies, and they'll all be voting age by then. Anyone with eyes can see your contribution!
Of course, the most important thing is—what real difference does it make who gets elected? Why not choose someone who can entertain you? And nobody knows how to entertain the masses better than you!'
Chandler improvised in front of the cameras, and as time went on—especially with each line followed by waves of laughter, sometimes even roaring laughter—he gained more and more confidence. He went all out, unleashing his talent and making everyone laugh uncontrollably.
After a long while, when it finally ended, Chandler walked somewhat anxiously to Chuck's side and asked, "How'd I do?"
"Really well."
Chuck nodded. "You can officially launch now. I'll help you contact some TV stations. Maybe after this report goes viral, you won't even need my help."
"So I can attract a lot of Max Henson's fans, right?"
Chandler joked. "And a drop in fans will seriously weaken his influence, making the public opinion environment more favorable when we sue him, right?"
"Bingo!"
Chuck quoted the joke Chandler had just casually mentioned.
"Bingo!"
Chandler's mouth twitched, but he quickly broke into a smile.
If the path to the presidency that Chuck had outlined for him before was just a conceptual fantasy, now he'd truly found the joy of having a life purpose!
Chandler Bing—let's go!
(End of Chapter)
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