Sunday, July 30, 2006

This is from chapter 7 of the book I'm currently writing, "¡There's No One In The Bathroom, But Let's Murder 'em Anyway!":

-Daddy… ¡The plants! –Margaret exclaimed.

The contemplative curmudgeon turned Kentucky fried apoplectic. His eyes reddened and his arteries hardened. His starched shirt stiffened and went silent.

-¡They grabbed Charlie! –Margaret said.

-I just wanted my shirt back –Charlie said in a trembling voice.

The siblings looked to their dad – the man who helped bring them into this world – for guidance, for wisdom, for clarity. But all they got was the 3-mile stare of a man who’d lost his humanity years ago.

Finally, the old dirtbag spoke:

-¿Are they o… ¿Are you okay?

-Yes –Charlie said as slowly and deliberately as you can deliver a one-syllable word.

Again, the two looked to their dad for a timely and logical explanation of shirt-stealing, child-molesting plants with hands in the bathroom.

Margaret held Charlie’s hand as their four eyes poured into their dad’s, trying to find the light switch.

-I am very… deceitful –The good doctor affirmed their suspicions-. ¿Did I say “deceitful”? I meant disappointed.

-But we can get you help, Dad –Margaret mistakenly malapropism’d-. You can go to Arizona and… you know, ¿get a document notarized?

-I am very disappointed –Mr. … uh, Dr. Berger said slowly- in you two.

-I’m sorry –Margaret started the round of excuses-. We didn’t know you were growing murderous, humanoid…

-Yeah –Charlie interrupted her sister before she got them fed to the plants-. And… we didn’t smoke any of your plants, I swear.

-Very disappointed –Their father repeated robotically.

-We’re sorry, Daddy.

Dr. Berger held out his pinky ring for the children to kiss.

-I just thank God that your mother is getting documents notarized and wasn’t around to witness this.

Charlie looked up from kissing Dr. Berger’s ring.

-¿Does she ever kiss your pinky ring? –He asked and Margaret kneed him in the thigh.

-No, no, of course not, Charlie –Margaret murmured-. That would be… gross.

But Charlie was on a roll.

-¿Has she ever been in the bathroom?

Again, Margaret kneed him in the thigh.

They followed their father in silence as he led them to the kitchen. He took a bag of flour and poured it all over the kitchen counter. He fingered the flour until he had drawn a word:

D i E

Dr. Berger watched their looks of terror and, satisfied, smeared the flour with his hand so that the word disappeared. His robotic stare and his not-so-subtle terrorism had their effect.

On everyone except Charlie:

-So, Dad, ¿what’s up with the plants?

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