Magically delicious

                We ran out of food when we hit the Utah border.    It was slim pickings at the nearest convenience store.   Some Wonder bread , Lucky Charms, and a jar of Skippy peanut butter sat on the shelves behind the counter.  “I’ll take it all please,” I told the pretty girl behind the counter.  She placed  it in a plastic bag.  Tim was staring at the blonde hairs on her arm.  I could understand that, because they were soft and appealing.  I wanted to lay down in them. 

                Hunger kicked in, and I snapped out of my reverie.  “Come on,” I told Tim, “I gotta eat.”  

“You can make your sandwiches in here,” the girl said.   Well, OK, the scenery did look better in here.   We lay the bread slices on the counter top.  Then I opened my jackknife to spread the peanut butter.  Tim twisted open the jar lid.  I watched her watching me.

                When Tim got the jar open, the smell was immediate and overpowering.  I remembered my mom’s peanut butter cookies as I leaned in for a closer whiff.  Tim had stuck his nose in the jar.  It looked like he had a big cylindrical Pinnochio nose.   A rush of jealous anger swept over me.  I reached over and punched his arm.  He didn’t retaliate.  Now he had his tongue in the peanut butter!

                “OK, fine then, the Lucky Charms are mine,” I yelled.  I tore open the top. 

“There’s a prize inside,” murmured the girl.  I pulled out the inner lining with the cereal and upturned the box to see what I won.  A little man came tumbling out.  He sat up, brushed himself off and gave me the finger.  What?  What did I just say? 

                I looked over at Tim to see if he was getting this, but he had his whole head in the jar.  I was reconsidering rooming with him when we got to the University of Nevada.  He had poor manners.

                Now where was I?  The girl smiled at me.  Oh yeah, the little man.  I picked him up.  He wound up and bashed my knuckle with his little metal pot.  I dropped him.

                “You’re magically delicious,” the little man sang.  Now where did that tune come from?  And where did I come from?  It was awfully hot in here.  Why were there legs sticking out of a peanut butter jar?  I’m glad my friend Blondie was here because this was really confusing.  She would take care of me.

                The little leprechaun ran up my arm.  “Hey little fella,” I said. 

“Tinkle, tinkle little star,” he sang.  I did need to pee.  

“May I use your bathroom Miss?”  I asked.  She gestured to the back of the store.

                I opened the door with the Gents washroom sign.  I unzipped my fly.  There was a urinal cake to cut down on the sweet smell.   I looked down to correct my aim.  I wouldn’t want the girl to have to clean up my mess.  The porcelain rose out to help my aim.  It was curling up so that I didn’t accidentally hit the floor.

                I bent forward to put my forehead on the wall.  Had I been drinking?  I don’t think so.  Except for that super Big Gulp in Idaho.  The wall had soft blonde hairs on it to comfort me.  They wrapped around me protectively.  I leaned in and closed my eyes.

                Out front, the girl scooped up the leprechaun and popped him back in the cereal box.  She stuck her finger in the peanut butter and licked it.  “Not quite ready,” she said.  She screwed the lid back on the peanut butter.  Then she went to the washroom to eat her lunch.

Over the Moon

   

                The little boy gripped his Cheerios.  Wherever she was, the dog was sure to want them.  He walked into the kitchen.  His parents were playing with pots on the big hot stove that he wasn’t allowed to touch.  Dad was stirring with a huge spoon.  They were talking and laughing and smiling.

                “Samwich,” the boy said.

                “Later,” said Dad, “after dinner.”  Mom put dishes on the table.

                The dog stuck her nose through the dog door and sniffed.  She jumped inside.  The little boy retreated to the dining room.  “Cat,” he said.  He wanted a cat.

                Mom hoisted him into his big chair.  She put a dish of food in front of him.  He felt safe and powerful, looking down on the dog.  To demonstrate his rank, he waved a piece of toast at the dog.  The dog’s tail wagged.  Her mouth dribbled out onto the floor.  The little boy threw a pea at her head.

                “What does the cow say?” asked Dad.

                “Moo.”

                “What does the dog say?” asked Mom.

                He didn’t want to talk about the dog.  “Meow,” he answered.  They laughed.

                Everyone ate dinner.  The dog  ate peas under the high chair. 

                “Samwich,” said the boy.

                “OK,” said Mom.  She lifted him out of the chair.  He climbed onto Dad’s lap and leaned against his chest.  Dad smelled like Dad.  Mom climbed on behind the little boy and squeezed him close. 

                “Samwich,” the boy said.

                “Yes, you’re the peanut butter and we’re two slices of bread,” said Mom.

***

                If the car drove up a hill, it meant you were going to visit Nana’s house.  Nana’s crackers were sweeter than the crackers at home.  The little boy watched  green shapes  flash by outside the car window.

                The car stopped.  “Nana,” he yelled, and ran up her front steps.  He ran right to his farm.  The cow and pig and cat were waiting for him, already out of their box.  Nana picked him up and hugged him.

                “Your mommy and daddy are going to a movie,” she said.  “Come and wave goodbye”.

                “Bye bye,” the little boy said, and waved once.   He squirmed until Nana put him down and ran back to his toys.  Nana joined him with her crackers.  The little boy took a bite and offered some to the plastic cat.  Then he made a sandwich with the cow and pig and cat.  The toy dog stayed in the box.

                “Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?” asked Nana.

                “Playing for Queen,” said the little boy.

***

                The dog came running when the little boy came home.  She sniffed him all over.  Poke, poke, poke went the big nose. 

                “Bad dog,” said the little boy. 

                He ran to his room and found the story about Zoom the cat.   He crawled into Mom’s lap.

***

                “Jump,” said Mom.  The dog jumped through the hoop.  Mom gave the dog a piece of cheese.

                The little boy jumped through the hoop.    Mom gave the boy a piece of cheese.  Dad watched the jumping show.  He clapped.   The dog stole the boy’s piece of cheese.

“Roll over,” said Mom.  The boy rolled over faster than the dog.  Mom put a CD in the sound box.  “Zing zing zing” it sang.  They all ran around and around the dinner table.  The dog barked.

***

                “Mom and I are going to a party,” said Dad.  “You’re going to sleep over at Nana’s house.”  The little boy ran to the door.  He waited.  He scratched the screen with his finger.

Mom finally came to the door with a bag.  They went outside to the car.  The dog tried to come too but Dad pushed her back inside.  

Mom pointed to the big ball in the sky and said, “There’s the moon.”  The boy saw the dog sitting on the top of the couch through the window.  “Bad dog,” he said.  The dog watched them drive away.  They drove up the hill.

                “Hey diddle diddle,” said Nana.  The little boy ran to his farm.  He took the cat and pig and cow outside.  They lined up in the dirt.

                “Water,” he said.  Nana made water come out of the hose.  The little boy squirted the animals until they were muddy.  He pushed his fingers deep into the ground.  The ground felt like food when it was wet. 

Nana said, “What can the animals do?”

                “Jump,” said the little boy.   The cow jumped.

                “Jump higher,” said Nana.

                And so the cow jumped over the moon.  The little boy laughed to see such sport.  And the dish ran away with the spoon, oh yes, the dish ran away with the spoon.

A Sylvan Memory (for Dad)

                “How dare they?”  It was shocking that the town should unleash those horrid machines.  One blue flip flop was buried in the sandy base of a Saskatoon bush, but the mate was nowhere to be found.

                They had snuck in during the dark of night and scraped, scraped, scraped away the gelatinous seaweed from the beach, which was definitely an improvement.  Yesterday Daddy had to pick the sisters up, one under each arm, and carry them over the limp stalks and into the water so that the uprooted plants didn’t touch their ankles.  It was fun to shriek at the thought of the slime, and even better to be indulged.

                But those same machines had scraped away one half of the forgotten sandals, scraped it far down the beach, maybe all the way to the pier.  Perhaps the machines would take her Mickey Mouse  inner tube also, if she didn’t keep it close.  It was a stern lesson in keeping an eye on things.

                The lake was so big.  The older kids swam all the way to the bobbing raft.  She watched as the water closed over their heads.  Fish might brush up against their legs.  She remembered the leech Daddy showed her on his leg last year.

                The cousins’ cousins, brave and daring boys of ten, owned a black inner tube.   A piece of metal tied on with a rope served as anchor.  They had a little red flag with a white stripe, which they informed all was the international symbol of divers.  The boys towed the tube way out, farther even than where the dads could still stand, and dropped anchor.  They put on their snorkelling masks and disappeared into the waves.  It was unimaginable that the girl could ever do the same.

                In fact, one sister never did swim, preferring to sit on the beach poking seashells into slumping castles.  The older would lay on her stomache in two feet of water.  Palms firmly on the sandy ripples of the bottom, she would insist, “Look at me Daddy,” Kick kick, “I’m swimming.” Kick kick.

                Getting out onto the rough concrete of the bathroom floor was too much trouble when you could sit and pee with warmth caressing your legs.

No more midnight movies

Having the great good fortune of knowing people who are passionate and committed to writing, I hearby resolve to give up watching Shutter Island until 12:30 am. I shall be tucked in bed by 10 each night so that I might follow their good example and rise early to write each morning. The tea will grow cold, and the keyboard will fill with toast crumbs.