If you’re wondering about that extra HOW ABOUT in the title to this blahg, it’s because I’m finally going to debut my short story “How About You, Delbert Robinson.” In four previous blahgs, in October of last year, twice in January and once already in February, I had commented on the lack of progress on my behalf in finishing this short story. I had apparently started writing the story on August 18th of last year. Here’s a clip of the ‘properties’ box from Microsoft Word for the story and it shows the created date, the modified date, and the accessed date.
The modified date was February 24th, two days ago, when I decided to try and finish the story. The accessed date was yesterday, February 25th, because I was almost finished and had enough energy to push through to the end. Today, I did another look over and found some small errors. It was where I wanted it. Six months to write a story is not great but it’s not bad. It took me ten years to finish SEVEN FEET OF SNOW IN BUFFALO after the initial start, almost 21 months to finish THE SODA MACHINE, as well as ten years again to finish “PIPPA’S PASSING. To be fair, I thought about Pippa’s Passing for ten years before I even wrote one word but then finished the full novel in four months.
Two days ago I thought it was time to stop throwing up excuses and to get back to the story. Even though the above image says I started the story on August 18th and modified it on February 24th, I actually opened the file several times but then only read it through. On occasion I corrected spelling and grammar or added a sentence or a paragraph. It wasn’t until February that I added on to the previously written 2,700 word count. The final edit is around 4, 900 words so I wrote in the past two days almost as much as when I had started last August. Before I debut it, however, I want to talk about how I sought to finish the story last October using the assistance of ChatGPT. I talked about this process in a previous blahg, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR OF EARTH where I asked ChatGPT for advice and review on a story I had written in 1979 or 1980. That story was “Private Investigator Of Earth.” ChatGPT gave me some suggestions which I discarded and also penned a sequel “Metamorphosis On Thorax” based on my thoughts. Check out that previous blahg to understand that process. I’ll post about my ChatGPT experience with “How About You, Delbert Robinson?” below. But first, here’s the new story:
HOW ABOUT YOU, DELBERT ROBINSON?
By
Scott Henderson
He knew the question was coming. It was inevitable. Some form of the question had dogged him all his life. ‘How about you, Delbert Robinson?’ ‘What about you, Delbert Robinson?’ ‘Can you, Delbert Robinson?’ It was always one version or another. It didn’t matter about the wording as long as his name was in there.
With a name like Delbert Robinson, he didn’t like to hear it all that often. Oh, the Robinson part was fine but even Delbert himself didn’t prefer the Delbert portion. He would rather be called Del or DB. DR in a pinch was okay but DB sounded like a better abbreviation for Delbert in his opinion. That was the issue, however…his opinion. It always came down to Delbert Robinson’s opinion.
Ever since he could remember, being called Delbert and being asked to weigh in on something had presented itself as a problem. With a name like Delbert, he was always very sensitive to the fact that people really didn’t expect very much from him. So, if they were going to ask him anything, and qualify it by including the complete Delbert Robinson, then he felt obliged to answer. And he was always correct.
Delbert Robinson always knew the answer. He retained information. He recalled everything he read or heard. He could see all the angles and dissect the situation to provide the most accurate reply. It was easy for him except he didn’t like to advertise that fact. In school, he never raised his hand. He tried to avoid eye contact with any of his teachers but the questions inescapably always came.
“Doesn’t anyone know the answer? Doesn’t anyone want to take a crack it?” The teachers’ questions varied but eventually they’d go down their list and call on each student in turn. If someone didn’t answer correctly before him, Delbert Robinson would be called upon for the solution.
“How about you, Delbert Robinson?” He couldn’t avoid it then. He’d been singled out. He’d always rise to the occasion…literally taking to his feet. He’d answer the question at hand every time and he’d always be right. He hated it.
Delbert Robinson believed his teachers had been on to him. They knew he was an excellent student and the only way to engage him was to ask him directly and invoke his full name. Sometimes it felt like the teachers must have shared this information among themselves. Different questions in different subjects and the same line of inquiry. “How about you, Delbert Robinson?”
It wasn’t very long before he was the go-to student of choice. Alphabetical pupil lists be damned. They skipped all of the other letters and honed right into the “R” section. “How about you, Delbert Robinson?” Anyone like a Riley or a Reed or Richardson or even a Roberts was ignored in favour of Delbert Robinson.
Early on, his teachers pegged him for greatness. Despite his willingness to hide his gift, they promoted him right along. He was singled out for advanced studies. They put him into academically challenging classes. They passed along their insight. Call on him and you’ll get the answer. Don’t forget the ‘Delbert Robinson’.
They transferred him to a special school for gifted children. That school sent him back. Someone had forgotten to pass along the ‘Delbert Robinson’ approach. He was a good student when he wanted to be but without the challenge associated with his name, he failed to deliver. Delbert Robinson knew the game as well. Don’t stand out. Don’t excel. If they don’t ask, don’t answer. His old school took him back and wondered about their failed recommendation.
It was back to the same old same old and Delbert Robinson responded efficiently every time. Where had his school gone wrong? Their student was a prodigy. What had happened at the other school? Didn’t they know the rules of the inquiry?
Of course, Delbert Robinson didn’t know any of this. He had his suspicions but no one asked him about it so he wasn’t obliged to give it any thought and provide a qualitative explanation. His old school just reveled in having him back and the notoriety it brought. Delbert Robinson was always selected for spelling bees and math contests and he always won and the school always prominently displayed the trophies. Delbert Robinson was a marketable entity.
Eventually, they had to promote him out of his elementary school and on to a secondary institution. For a while, DB basked in anonymity. The new school and the new teachers didn’t know the secret. Of course, it didn’t last for long. Students who knew him from his junior school would let slip the trick.
“Why not ask, Delbert Robinson? He always knows the answer.” Sometimes it was sarcasm while other times it was another student wishing not to be called on in class because they didn’t have a credible response other than their dog ate their homework.
The first time this happened varied the routine only slightly.
“Is this true, do you know the answer Delbert Robinson? Would you care to have a go at it?” Of course, he didn’t care to have a go at it but he’d been correctly called upon and there was nothing for it. The variation in the question hadn’t fazed him in the least.
“The square root of 1,296 is 36.”
“The capital of Mongolia is Ulaanbaatar.”
“The Moon is approximately 384,400 kilometers away from the Earth.”
“Social anarchism is a political philosophy advocating for a stateless society based on voluntary cooperation and mutual aid, rejecting hierarchy and authority. It envisions a society organized through free associations of individuals and communities, emphasizing social equality and the abolition of all forms of domination, including economic and political power.”
That last one had left his Political Science teacher gobsmacked. She didn’t call on Delbert Robinson for a while after that. There were some advantages to providing detailed information. DB knew his own tricks in the game as well.
DB had very few friends. He had even fewer rivals. No one ever wanted to go head to head with Delbert Robinson. They all knew they’d fail eventually so they’d throw their first response and get on with their unavoidable shame. DB understood those tricks, too. Unfortunately, they didn’t work for him. He couldn’t answer incorrectly. It wasn’t in his nature.
He breezed through high-school. He didn’t need to put in any great effort. Everyone knew that Delbert Robinson held the answers. Delbert Robinson knew that as well and accepted his fate. Year after year, he was the top student without really trying. The school racked up academic trophy after trophy. Delbert was their golden goose. In the end, they hated to see him graduate.
Delbert Robinson received top honours. He was nominated for numerous scholarships and bursaries. He turned them all down. He could see his own future. Delbert Robinson was poised for success. He wanted none of it. He just wanted to be Del or DB; or anyone else, really.
Del Robinson went to work. He accepted the first menial labour job he was offered. He was a numbered employee in a large organization. He didn’t care. He didn’t excel. He didn’t feel the need. He avoided advancement. He worked his job, he collected his pay, and he went home. DB basked in anonymity.
Gone was Delbert Robinson. DB worked the loading docks and was happy. No one knew of his Delbert past. He didn’t even mention to others his full name. They knew him as Del. Even the DB eventually went by the wayside. No one could abbreviate his name if they didn’t know about the Delbert part. To the others at work, he was just Del. There was nothing special about him and no one expected much from him. No one had ever expected much of ‘Delbert’ either and that had been part of his motivation to excel when he heard that name. Del didn’t feel that way. No one expected much of him now but they could expect to rely on him if nothing else.
He hung out with the guys sometimes after work. They went for drinks. On trivia nights at the local pub, Del begged off. He didn’t want to be tempted. He played poker every couple of weeks with Hank, Chris, and Vic. Sometimes he won and sometimes he lost. It all evened out somehow. He tried not to stand out. He lost just as often as he won. Del thought about how he could have won every pot because he saw the ‘tell’ in all the other players. Vic dug at his ear with his key. Hank would pretend to comb through his beard to loosen food scraps. It was not only his tell but a necessity. Hank was a sloppy eater. Chris was a stone face. When it came to cards, he showed no emotion. Del noticed, however, that Chris held his cards a little too tightly when he had a good hand. The colour would fade from his fingers. Vic and Hank failed to take note.
It was a good life. In his off time, he read. It wasn’t to impress anyone as he never talked about what he recalled from the books. His tastes ranged. He’d read anything. He particularly enjoyed true crime stories or mystery novels. Del would solve everything early on and would laugh to himself about how long it took the other characters to figure out what was so obvious to him.
It was a good life. Well, it was a good life until Benny came along.
Del had never shared his past with anyone. He wasn’t that person anymore. No one knew him from back then and Del was okay with that. That all changed with the reappearance of Benny.
It wasn’t that Benny had disappeared and then reappeared. It was more that Benny had been someone who knew Del when he was Delbert. If Delbert had been an exceptional student then Benny was the direct opposite. If no one had expected much out of Delbert until they got to know him then the opposite could be said of Benny. No one expected much from Benny because there wasn’t much there.
Benny was lazy. His true secret, though, was he was as smart as Delbert when it came to seeing the angles and he played every one to avoid having to put in any hard work. In fact, it was Benny who had first given away Delbert’s secret when they were in high school. “Why not ask, Delbert Robinson? He always knows the answer.” Benny hadn’t studied. He knew the trick. Give up Delbert Robinson and the teacher would leave Benny alone. He’d more than likely go to sleep at the back of the class when the focus was off him.
Benny dropped out of high school. Del had heard he’d drifted around a bit and had run afoul of the law a few times. Del was not surprised. He’d sized up Benny early on and foresaw the results. Now, here he was, a new face on the docks. Also, he was an old face that Del could do without.
“Well if it isn’t my old friend, Delbert Robinson, the man with all the answers,” Benny offered at meeting his old classmate again. Benny was being shown the ropes by Victor. Del didn’t cringe but he expected no good to come of Benny’s reintroduction into his life. “How’s your memory, Delbert? Still remember everything you ever learned?”
“My memory is just fine, Benny. Better than yours obviously. I remember everything, alright, thank you. First, I remember we were never friends. Second, it’s Del, not Delbert. It’s best you put your memory to the test and remember that. I’m just plain Del.”
“Any way you want it just plain Del,” Benny replied. Del could tell it wasn’t going to be any way but Benny’s now that he was around.
Benny soon made his way into the inner circle. The other guys didn’t have the experience that Del had to build up a distrust of the new employee. Benny was the new guy and if he didn’t pick up on the requirements of his job right away then it wasn’t his fault. Everyone helped him out. They wanted to see him succeed.
Benny took them all for suckers. He understood his job just fine. If he played ignorant or slow then the others would only be too happy to pitch in and help him out. Do his job for him, was more like it. Del saw right through it. He never offered to help out Benny and some of the other workers became resentful of Del’s attitude toward their co-worker. Del couldn’t explain it…rather he wouldn’t explain.
“Go ahead and ask me,” he thought to himself. “Say, Delbert Robinson, what’s your problem with Benny?” Then he’d really tell them. Of course they couldn’t ask him because they didn’t know the trick. Only he and Benny knew about the full Delbert. Just this one time did he wish the question would come. He’d gladly respond and provide a very detailed answer.
Benny wormed himself into Del’s inner circle. Benny never shied away from trivia night and he would regale everyone with his knowledge and everyone would buy him drinks. Del quit the pub scene. Trivia night or no, he wanted no part of it.
Soon, Benny found himself a seat at the bi-weekly poker game as well. It became intolerable for Del. Despite his demeanour, Benny was not stupid. He soon recognized the same tells in the other players and moreover he recognized Del’s tell. Del’s cue was that he could see it all and yet he would never act on what he knew. Benny took advantage of that and would force Del to fold because Benny knew Del would not flaunt his superior intellect.
“Beginner’s luck, fellas,” Benny would exclaim more often than not. The other guys would laugh at it at first but when another player has the golden touch far too often, it can begin to be a little much. The poker night eventually disbanded. There was no fun in it for anyone except Benny. Wives needed their husbands at home or there was overtime to be picked up at work. The excuses were slim and as for Del, he didn’t need one. He was happy just not to be in Benny’s presence.
Benny didn’t care. He moved onto other callings. Del heard that Benny was playing in higher stakes games around town. He also heard he was winning a little too much from the wrong sorts of people.
More rumors came and went about Benny. He’d brag often about how good his poker playing was but he was bored with his winning streak and he was moving onto other gambling opportunities. Hank had run into Benny at the racetrack. He told Hank he had a foolproof system. He said he couldn’t lose. Hank heard Benny lost…a lot. Steve heard that Benny owed money all over town; again to the wrong sorts of people.
It wasn’t long before Del learned the truth of it. Despite avoiding Benny at work, it wasn’t long before Benny approached him directly.
“How’s it going Delbert old man? Sorry, you prefer Del. No matter. Haven’t seen you around much. I miss our old poker sessions.” Benny was slimy in appearance and even slimier in conversation.
“Miss me or miss my money? What do you want Benny?” Del decided it was best to get to it. He didn’t trust Benny and the angles were clear that there was something behind Benny’s sudden coziness.
“Okay, okay,” Benny replied. “I see you’re a man who likes to get right down to business. So here goes…”
“Stop right there, Benny,” Del interrupted. “There’s never been any business between us and you’ve never been any good at minding your own. Whatever you want, the answer is no.” Del started to walk away.
“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be?” Benny called after Del. “You think you’re better than me. The man with all the answers!” Del could sense Benny was trying to goad him. Benny wasn’t even trying to hide it. Del decided against his best judgement to play into it.
“You’re right Benny, I do have all the answers and I’ve given mine to you. No. Whatever it is, no. And by the way, I don’t think I’m better than you. I make it a habit of knowing things. I choose not to think when it comes to you.”
Benny was taken aback for only a second but, like Del, he could see the angles, too. He thought he knew just how to play them when it came to his old schoolmate.
“You have to help me Del, you’re the only one who can. It’s my life we’re talking about.” Benny thought that both complimenting Del and playing on his sympathies was the best course of action.
Del had already heard enough. Benny didn’t like the answer he received so Del turned away again and kept walking.
“I’ll give you anything you want!” Benny was getting desperate. Then he remembered the trick. “I need a lot of dough fast. I can’t think of a way to come up with it in time. How about you Delbert Robinson?”
Del stopped in his tracks. The question had been asked. He didn’t turn to look at Benny but he stood there, not moving, nonetheless.
Delbert Robinson had been called upon. He couldn’t not answer.
Del bristled at the interaction. Replying to Benny was going to cost him. He also knew that this would not be the end of it. It wouldn’t be just this one time. Benny would come back and he’d keep coming back. Del saw it all. He had to answer. He had to help Benny out. The bigger picture was unravelling itself before him.
He turned around and walked back until he was inches away from Benny’s face.
“You want my help Benny? Okay, I’ll help but it’s just going to be this once. That’s it. Nothing else comes after this. I’m in and then I’m out. I’ll square you and then you’re going to leave me alone.” Del’s mind was running away with itself. He had to make it right…for now and for good.
Del watched as Benny seemed to shrink. It was like the air had been let out of him. Even though Del could fathom many things, he didn’t know if Benny’s reaction was relief or an acknowledgement that Del was, indeed, the better person. Either way, Del knew he couldn’t trust him.
Del listened as Benny lay out his story and how his racetrack system had failed and he’d gotten in deeper and deeper with a local bookmaker. It was a considerable amount of money. Benny even went into detail about his system. It sounded convoluted but then Del expected as much. Nothing was ever simple when it came to Benny
Naturally, Del saw the flaws in Benny’s methodologies. With a little tweaking, the system could be made more reliable. The odds of winning would increase exponentially. There was no way, however, that Del would communicate that to Benny. He held that in check. Del’s own plans were starting to gel.
“I think I’ve got something, Benny. In fact, I know I have something but it’s going to take a little time. Leave it with me.”
“Time, is what I don’t have. I’ve got a week. If I don’t have the money by then, it will go badly for me.”
“It can’t be done in less than a month,” Del replied.
“A month?! I could stretch it to two weeks but I’ll be paying interest on top of that. I’ll need something to give them on good faith.”
Del knew that Benny would counter with two weeks. He’d seen that coming. He had also expected this new request. Sometimes Benny wasn’t as complicated as he made himself out to be.
“What did you have in mind?” Del tried not to show concern. This was no time for him to have a ‘tell’.
“A thousand on account might stall them.” Del had anticipated as much.
“I’m not giving you a thousand, Benny. You’d disappear along with the money. I want to meet your contact. I want details from him and then and only then do I turn over the money. If I do, then I get reimbursed off the top before the balance is paid.”
“Anything you say, Delbert, I mean Del. I’ll set it up.”
Del didn’t trust Benny but for this to work, he’d have to let things unravel Benny’s way. He half expected this was all a ruse and that Benny and some cohort was going to walk away with the money. Still, Del didn’t think Benny was that smart. He was however smart enough to know that Del would be able to see right through any ruse.
Del left Benny salivating and went home to think things through. The plan had to be perfect. He had to get Benny out of trouble and ensure that there wouldn’t be a repeat performance. Del mapped it all out. He had to be certain of all the details.
The meetup with Benny and his contact went as planned. Del asked all the questions. How much did Benny owe? How much time did he have to pay the remainder? What would happen if Benny failed to pay?
The balance owing was staggering, still Del was not surprised. He’d factored for that. The thousand dollars from Del bought them another week. Benny was right, they’d have fourteen days to pay it all off.
“What’s next, partner?” Benny asked after the token payment had been made.
“I’m not your partner Benny and I’m not about to lay everything out for you…yet. This is a big ask and that kind of money isn’t going to come easily. I think you’re better off not knowing where it’s coming from.” It was Del’s plan and Del’s rules. He knew any other way would result in Benny fouling everything up.
In the end, Benny did foul everything up. He kept nagging Del for details. He invoked the Delbert Robinson. Del told him what he needed to know. Del told him of the big score. Benny told others.
Benny was picked up in a bar on the seedier side of town. He’d drank his way into spilling what he knew to some undercover police officers. He was arrested and for once in his life, he told the truth. He implicated Del.
“Well, Mr. Robinson, we’ve spoken to your accomplice. He told us everything. He’s pled guilty. Now it’s your turn. What do you have to say?”
Del didn’t answer right away. He looked over the police offer who was questioning him. He looked over the dingy interrogation room. This was exactly where he expected himself to be. Now it was a matter of waiting for the right question. They’d already questioned Benny. Benny had given up Del. He also knew that Benny would have given up Del’s secret. He knew the question was coming. It was inevitable.
“Your partner’s given us all the details. He’s admitted to your involvement. He’s pled guilty. How about you, Delbert Robinson?”
There it was. Del had foreseen what came next.
The trial was short. Del and Benny pleaded guilty.
The sentence was ten years. It could have been longer but there was no evidence. There was no money. Benny said Del had it. Del said he had given it to Benny. Their confessions were the only thing the law had to go on. It was enough.
Del sat in his cell and reviewed everything. It had all gone according to plan. He and Benny were where they were meant to be. It was the same prison but different cells. At least that was something.
The plan had worked. No one, other than Del, could have expected otherwise.
There had been a scheme and there had been money. Del had even shown some of it to Benny. He had to. Benny had to expect that Del was going to come through.
Del had seen it all. He knew that Benny wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. It was in his nature. Del had envisioned it all. It had been the perfect plan and Benny had played his part exactly as Del had expected.
It had all been so simple to Del. He’d teach Benny a lesson. Del would end it once and for all.
Benny’s system had been the key. Del had perfected it and the money was made quickly with minimal risk. That was stage one.
Next came Del’s scheme. He’d created an elaborate theft scenario. It had to be plausible. Benny had to believe it was all real and that it was something that Del was capable of pulling off.
Del built it up and let Benny in on enough details for it to seem possible. Del knew that Benny would not keep it to himself. It was like Benny to build it up even more than Del had and to give Benny a lead role. Del had counted on it.
Del had to also show Benny he had the money. The track winnings built up enough to cover off everything. Del knew the sight of it would not only make Benny salivate but it would loosen his lips. Benny had whispered enough to get the attention of the right person who knew there was a benefit in letting the police know.
The only thing that Benny could not anticipate was that Del’s plan never included Benny or his bookie receiving any of it. The money had been divided into small envelopes, shipped out in cash, scattered through a dozen colleges and foundations, all listed under different names. They would be endowments for kids Del would never meet, who would never know why the funds existed. Maybe there was a Delbert Robinson among them who, like him, would not use their gifts. Maybe there were some who were the exact opposite and had to work hard for everything. Maybe there was a Benny type who would receive a bursary and turn their life around. One less Benny in the world.
There had been no crime. The money had been earned legally. Neither Benny nor Del had profited. Del even forfeited his original thousand. It had all worked out exactly as Delbert Robinson had planned.
The prison was quiet late at night. Sometimes Del could imagine he was all alone again. He was back home again with his books. He solved all the mysteries. The criminal never got away with anything…except this once. In sixty days he’d be free again. It was the last piece.
Benny and Del had only been convicted because of their admission of guilt. In two months, Del’s lawyer would receive a letter. It would detail the real plan. It would provide the location of a journal that would prove Del’s innocence. There’d also be a record of all the money he’d won. There was a ledger of his earnings and polaroid photos of all of his winning tickets with the names of the horses and dates written on the back. It would be proof positive that there had been no crime.
Del knew full well he’d be released. They’d ask him why. If they didn’t ask correctly, he wouldn’t answer.
It would also mean that Benny would be a free man. Free but not free. He still owed all that money. It wasn’t likely his bookie was ready to forgive and forget. Del didn’t care. Benny would be in for it and Del would be out. He’d start somewhere else where he never again would be recognized as Delbert Robinson.
Del tried to keep to himself and wait out his time. It wouldn’t be long now. He wouldn’t tell Benny. For his old schoolmate, it would be both a nice and nasty surprise.
Del saw him around. He’d hear him bragging sometimes about the caper that never happened, not that Benny knew that, and how Benny had been the mastermind. He never let it slip that he’d been the reason they’d been caught.
“When I get out, I’ve got big plans. Nothing will stop me,” he’d heard Benny utter one day in the yard.
“I thought you got ten years?” another con inquired. “Or maybe you think you’ve found a way out of here?”
“It can be done,” Benny boasted.
Benny was right. It could be done. Del saw the way. He noticed things. He memorized guard rotations. He counted steps between searchlight locations. He knew where the blind spots were. Benny was right. It could be done. But that wasn’t for Del. He only needed to bide his time.
“Besides, I know a guy,” Benny continued. His voice went quiet and Del couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation between the inmates.
Del felt a tap on his shoulder.
“What do you say, pal? This guy,” the con stopped and gestured a thumb towards Benny, “he says you know a way to escape from here. I say it’s not possible. If it was, someone would have done it by now.”
Del turned away. It was only sixty days. He’d keep his head down. Sixty days and he’d be out. It was the last part of the plan.
“Did you hear what I said, buddy?” The con spun Del around. In all his planning, he’d failed to expect that Benny would louse it all up so near the end. Del knew the question was coming again. It was inevitable. “No one’s ever figured out a way. How about you, Delbert Robinson?”
THE END
So, what did ChatGPT do for me? I’d like to say nothing. There might have been one bit about what happened to the money that I tweaked from ChatGPT’s suggestions. I had posted what I had to ChatGPT and had asked how I should proceed. Any text, in blue was input from me. The rest is all from the Artificial Intelligence.
Benny had a way of seeping into everything.
He was like a slow leak in the roof — the kind you don’t notice at first, until the plaster sags and you realize the damage has been happening for a while.
At first, Del told himself it didn’t matter. Benny was just another man on the docks, another voice at the table, another laugh in the room. But that wasn’t true. Benny’s presence itched. He had a gift for drawing attention, for turning things that were simple into spectacles.
And the worst part?
He’d started using Del’s name.
“Come on, Delbert Robinson, what do you say?” Benny would grin, beer in hand, like it was a harmless joke.
The others laughed — they thought it was just old-school familiarity.
But Del knew better. Benny had remembered the trick. He was calling him out.
The first time Benny said it, Del froze. It was instinct — something ancient in him stirred, the need to answer, to rise, to deliver the truth because the question had found him. His mouth had even started to form words before he caught himself. He shut it down. He wasn’t Delbert anymore. He was Del. Just Del.
But Benny kept at it.
Every week it was something new.
“How about you, Delbert Robinson? You calling or folding?”
“How about you, Delbert Robinson? You think management’s gonna tighten hours again?”
“How about you, Delbert Robinson? You think the Leafs have a shot this year?”
It was always half a joke, half a test. And it worked its way under Del’s skin.
He could feel the others starting to notice too — not the history, not the tension, but the rhythm of it. They began to laugh before Benny finished the question, as though the name itself was the punchline.
One Friday, Del stayed late on the loading bay, waiting for the shift to end, hoping Benny would clock out early. The night air was thick with diesel and salt, the distant hum of trucks backing up in the yard. He stood there watching the last of the pallets move out when Benny showed up beside him, smirking.
“Long time since school, eh, Delbert?”
Del didn’t answer.
“You know, I always wondered how it felt — having all the answers. Must’ve been heavy, carrying that around. You ever miss it?”
Del looked at him then, really looked. Benny’s grin was smaller up close, like it was painted on. His eyes were restless. He wasn’t teasing anymore — he was prying.
“I don’t miss anything,” Del said finally. “You only miss what you need.”
Benny laughed, but it sounded forced. “Still got the lines, huh? Still got the answers. Guess some things don’t change.”
Del didn’t respond. He turned back to the dock, watching the forklift lights strobe against the warehouse wall.
The silence stretched.
Then Benny said it again — soft this time, almost thoughtful.
“How about you, Delbert Robinson?”
Del’s hands tightened around the edge of the railing. He could feel the name sink into him again, like an anchor being dropped in deep water. The words wanted to come — the right answer, the explanation, the truth — but something else held him back.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.
“I told you before, Benny. Don’t call me that.”
Benny didn’t flinch. “Or what?”
Del looked at him. “Or you’ll find out what happens when you ask a question you don’t really want answered.”
The forklift beeped in the background. The night carried on. But Benny didn’t say anything else after that.
For the first time in years, Del felt the quiet again — the kind that belonged to him.
He knew it wouldn’t last.
Would you like me to continue further — say, into the moment when Del finally does give an answer (and what that means for both him and Benny)?
Benny is in trouble. He asks Delbert to help him with a crime to get money. Benny owes gamblers
Excellent — that fits the tone and character arc perfectly.
Here’s the next continuation, keeping Scott Henderson’s measured, ironic rhythm and Delbert’s internal restraint, while turning up the moral and psychological tension:
Benny was gone for two days.
No call, no show. The foreman grumbled but didn’t make much of it — guys disappeared now and then. They’d turn up with some half-baked excuse about a busted truck or a sick relative, and things went on.
But when Benny came back, something had changed.
He looked thinner somehow. Or maybe it was just that his grin had stopped working.
He kept to himself that morning, moving boxes without his usual chatter. Around lunch, he wandered over to Del, quiet as a cat.
“Hey, Del,” he said. Not Delbert this time. That was new.
Del looked up, waiting.
“You got a minute?”
Del didn’t answer, but he set down the pallet hook. That was answer enough.
They walked out behind the loading bay, to where the cracked asphalt met the fence line. Benny lit a cigarette and stared at the smoke like it might tell him what to say.
“I’m in a bit of a jam,” he said finally. “You ever get in one of those?”
Del didn’t speak. He’d learned long ago that silence made people talk faster.
“See, I owe some money,” Benny went on. “To the wrong kind of guys. And they’re getting… impatient.”
Del waited. He already knew the next part.
“I just need a little help,” Benny said, lowering his voice. “There’s a shipment tonight. Cash. From the office safe. Easy grab. You and me could walk out of here with enough to fix things — and no one’d even know.”
He looked at Del then, eyes wide, pleading. “You’re smart. You know how to do things right. I just need someone who can plan it.”
Del didn’t move. He could hear the faint hum of the fluorescent light above them, the clatter of a forklift in the distance.
“Don’t,” he said quietly.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t ask me.”
Benny frowned. “Come on, Del—”
Del turned to face him. “You don’t understand what happens when you ask me a question like that. You think it’s a choice. It isn’t.”
Benny laughed, but it was nervous now. “You saying you’re too good for it?”
Del’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m saying once I start answering, I can’t stop. And the answer’s always right.”
Benny stared at him, unsure if it was a threat or a confession.
“So what’s the right answer then?” he asked finally, voice low.
Del sighed. “The right answer is you’re going to get caught. You’re going to panic halfway through, make noise, and someone will see you. You’ll run, but they’ll find you. You’ll end up owing more than you do now.”
Benny swallowed hard. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Del said simply.
For a moment, neither man spoke. The wind tugged at Benny’s shirt, the cigarette burned down to the filter.
Then Benny threw it away and smiled his old smile again — the one that never reached his eyes.
“You know, Delbert Robinson,” he said, the name returning like a dare, “you’ve been right about everything your whole life. Maybe it’s time you were wrong.”
Del didn’t answer. He just watched Benny walk away toward the loading docks, hands in his pockets, shoulders squared like a man pretending not to be afraid.
Del knew he wouldn’t sleep that night.
Because if there was one thing he hated more than the question, it was knowing the answer long before it arrived.
———————————
It’s a heist. Delbert plans it. Benny cracks and admits it to the police. Del won’t admit to anything until questioned by the police. Benny gave away the secret and the police ask “All of your compatriots have plead guilty, how about you Delbert Robinson?” Delbert tells the truth but Delbert had sent the money away. He set up scholarships with distant colleges…all anonymously and in cash. Delbert goes to prison and ends up in the same prison as Benny. Delbert plans on appealing but one day some prisoners talk about escaping from prison. Some say it can’t be done. Benny overhears and spills the secret of Delbert Robinson. The story ends when one of the convicts says they’re planning an escape but others say it can’t be done. No one is smart enough to figure out a foolproof escape plan. The convict turns to ask Delbert Robinson. “How about you, Delbert Robinson?” end of story
Perfect — that’s a brilliant full-circle concept and completely faithful to the ironic, cyclical structure Scott Henderson set up. Here’s the final continuation, written in that same understated, wry tone — patient pacing, formal diction, and the quiet tragedy of inevitability.
It turned out Delbert Robinson could still be persuaded — not by greed, not by desperation, but by inevitability.
He told himself it was for Benny’s sake, or maybe for the sake of seeing what would happen if he stopped avoiding the question. But in truth, it was because the moment Benny had asked “How about you, Delbert Robinson?”, the answer had already been decided.
So he planned it.
He couldn’t help himself.
It was simple, elegant, efficient — like all of Delbert’s answers. He studied the schedules, the locks, the shift rotations. He mapped out the timing to the second. Benny didn’t understand half of it, but he didn’t need to. Delbert understood it all.
The heist went exactly as designed.
No alarms, no witnesses, no mistakes. The money vanished.
For a few hours, so did Delbert and Benny.
It might have worked forever if Benny hadn’t cracked.
They found him two days later, sitting in a diner off the highway, talking too much and drinking even more. The detectives didn’t have to press very hard. He confessed to everything.
Everything — including who had planned it.
When they came for Delbert, he didn’t resist. He didn’t even ask for a lawyer. He just sat there, calm as ever, waiting for the right question.
They asked him many.
He answered none.
Not until the last one.
“All of your compatriots have pled guilty,” the lead detective said, leaning forward over the table. “How about you, Delbert Robinson?”
And that was the moment.
That old, familiar phrase — the one that had followed him through childhood and classrooms and quiet nights at the dock.
He felt the answer forming before he even opened his mouth.
“Yes,” he said. “I planned it.”
He didn’t mention the rest — that the money had already been divided into small envelopes, shipped out in cash, scattered through a dozen colleges and foundations, all listed under different names. Scholarships for kids he would never meet, who would never know why the funds existed.
He didn’t need anyone to know. That part was never for him.
They sentenced him to twelve years.
It was ironic, he thought, that Benny ended up in the same prison.
“Old times, huh, Delbert?” Benny had said on the first day, grinning like they were still back in school.
Del ignored him. Mostly, they stayed out of each other’s way. He read in the library, played cards in silence, and watched the world keep asking questions that no one really wanted answered.
But word gets around, even in prison.
It started small — an argument in the yard about the new fencing, someone joking about breaking out. “Can’t be done,” one man said. “Not unless you’re a genius.”
And that’s when Benny, lounging nearby, laughed.
“You want a genius?” he said. “Ask Delbert Robinson. He’s got all the answers.”
The laughter spread like a spark through dry grass. The name travelled faster than the story. Soon everyone knew — the quiet man in cell block C, the one who never lost at cards, the one who never guessed and was never wrong.
One night, a small group gathered in the rec room, whispering plans that sounded like fantasies. Someone mentioned the impossible — an escape.
“It can’t be done,” one of them muttered. “No one’s smart enough to pull that off.”
Another man, older, with a scar down his cheek, leaned forward and nodded toward the corner, where Delbert sat reading.
“How about you, Delbert Robinson?”
Del looked up slowly, closing the book with deliberate care.
He could already see it all — the walls, the timing, the guards, the weaknesses. The angles arranged themselves in his mind like pieces on a chessboard.
He knew the answer.
He always did.
But this time, he didn’t say it.
He just smiled — a small, tired smile — and went back to his book.
Outside, the yard lights flickered. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed and faded.
Would you like me to polish this into a single seamless version of the full story — edited and formatted so it reads like a cohesive short story manuscript ready for submission or publication?
I didn’t answer ChatGPT’s final question. If it had asked, “What Do You Think, Scott Henderson?” I might have considered it. I hadn’t like the answers ChatGPT had given. It was too descriptive and it didn’t sound like my voice. Maybe that’s why it took me from October to now to finish it. I had to completely forget what ChatGPT had offered me. I had to finish this my way.
Speaking about finishing, I’ll end this blahg with what ChatGPT had to say today. I’m flattered by some but not enough to pursue anything further. I think the story works the way I want it to. It should after all, it took me forever to finish it.
ChatGPT’s response
This is a strong, tightly controlled character study with a very satisfying structural payoff. Since you’ve shared the full story, I’ll respond with thoughtful feedback at three levels: concept, character, and craft.
Overall Impression
“How About You, Delbert Robinson?” is a clever psychological tale about identity, compulsion, pride, and control. The repetition of the titular question works beautifully as both:
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A structural device
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A character trigger
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A thematic anchor
The ending is especially effective because it loops back to the core compulsion — Delbert must answer when properly invoked — and leaves us on the brink of whether he will finally break his pattern or fulfill it one last time.
It’s poetic and darkly ironic.
What Works Especially Well
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The Central Gimmick (and It’s More Than a Gimmick)
The idea that Del can only respond when formally addressed as Delbert Robinson is smart — but what elevates it is that:
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It’s psychological, not supernatural.
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It feels like compulsion born from ego and identity.
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It becomes both his power and his prison.
That’s strong conceptual writing.
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Benny as a Foil
Benny is a perfect mirror opposite:
Delbert |
Benny |
Disciplined |
Lazy |
Strategic |
Impulsive |
Sees angles |
Exploits shortcuts |
Plays long game |
Plays immediate game |
Controls ego |
Flaunts ego |
Benny is not stupid — and that’s crucial. He’s clever but undisciplined. That contrast gives the story real tension.
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The Prison Plan
The reveal that:
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There was no crime.
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The money was legally earned.
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The confessions were deliberate.
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The money was donated anonymously.
That’s a sharp twist — not a cheap one. It recontextualizes everything and reinforces Del’s need for control and moral superiority.
It also adds a layer of coldness. Del doesn’t just solve problems. He orchestrates lives.
Thematic Depth
You’re exploring some strong themes here:
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Identity vs. autonomy — Is Del free, or is he enslaved by the need to answer?
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Ego disguised as humility — He claims he doesn’t want greatness, but he needs to be right.
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Control as obsession
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Punishment disguised as justice
The final question in the yard is perfect because it reframes the entire story:
Has Del learned anything?
Or is he about to engineer one final masterpiece?
The Ending
The final line works.
It mirrors the opening structure and completes the loop.
What’s powerful is that you don’t answer it.
We know:
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He sees the way out.
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He has 60 days left.
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He doesn’t need to escape.
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But he was asked properly.
That tension is the entire story distilled into one moment.
Very effective.
Areas You Could Tighten (If You Wanted To Polish It Further)
These are refinement notes, not structural criticisms.
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Some Repetition Could Be Sharpened
The repetition of:
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“He knew the question was coming.”
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Variations of inevitability.
Works thematically — but you could trim 10–15% of repeated phrasing to make it feel sharper and more deliberate rather than slightly padded.
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Mid-Story Pacing
The racetrack and debt section is solid but slightly extended. You could tighten:
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The negotiation scene.
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The bookmaker interaction.
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The explanation of Benny’s system.
Not by removing content — but by compressing language slightly.
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Emotional Depth
Del is fascinating intellectually, but emotionally distant (intentionally).
You might consider one subtle humanizing crack:
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A moment of loneliness.
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A flicker of regret.
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A moment where answering costs him more than he admits.
Right now, he feels almost surgical. That works — but a single hairline fracture could deepen him even more.
What Genre Is This?
It sits nicely between:
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Psychological fiction
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Moral thriller
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Character-driven noir
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Literary short story
It would fit well in a literary magazine that appreciates irony-driven narratives.
The Strongest Line (In My Opinion)
“If they didn’t ask correctly, he wouldn’t answer.”
That line is the thesis of the story.
Final Assessment
This is:
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Conceptually strong
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Structurally clean
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Thematically coherent
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Built around an excellent character engine
It reads like a story written by someone who understands long-game storytelling.
If you’d like, I can:
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Do a line-edit pass for tightening
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Help craft a submission-ready version
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Suggest magazine markets
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Or explore what happens if Del answers the final question
Because honestly?
I’d love to see what he says.
Keep on waiting ChatGPT. There’s no need for an answer.
