In a child's mind November 8, 1999 If I bend my neck and look straight up, I can see all the hairs in his nose. It's really disgusting, someone should tell him to clip those hairs, or bleach them, or something. He's a neat guy, so I don't say anything. Besides, he would probably get mad at me if I did. It's not my place to say anything. So, instead of telling him, I imagine driving my tonka truck straight up his nostrils. I have to time it just right though, the nostrils are fluttering, kind of flaring in and out. They don't always do that, only when he's talking real loud. I have to wait until they're flared open and then, ZOOM, up goes my truck. After the truck is in I have to flip on the headlights because it's really dark in there. The hairs will slow me down if I can't see them and drive around them. "Did you hear me?" Ohoh, he was talking to me. I have no idea what he said. "Um, huh uh, Dad, I didn't hear you."*cringe* The nostrils do some more flaring. I don't want to think about the tonka truck up there any more. When I think about that I don't listen and then I get in trouble. He says something about cleaning up my room. Phew. I can do that. I hustle off to my room. But while I'm walking down the hall I see the night light in the hall plug. I imagine that it's an alien probe put there to record everything we do. I pretend to not notice it and walk right by it. I drop to the floor and snake along the carpet until I'm up real close to the probe. I'm off to the side, so it doesn't sense me being there. I think about how I can disengage it from the wall. It probably has a self-destruct device in it. If I tamper with it, it might just explode or leak poisonous gas, or ooze green gunk that will make my skin fall off my bones. Oh no, feet. I know those feet. The feet are standing really close to me, and right in front of the alien probe. "MOM!!!!! Move away, they'll know you're here. Quick, over here!!" "Weren't you on your way to clean your room?" Okay, okay, I better go. The feet move away from the probe. I hope the aliens weren't alerted that I was so close. My bedroom door is closed. Before I go in, I think about the operating room on the other side. The doctors in there will get really mad if I barge in and screw up the sterility of the room. I better put on a gown and mask first. Good thing I have a gown and mask in my jeans pocket. I'm a bit scared to go in, I don't really like blood very much. I can never look when mom puts bandaids on my knees. It makes me feel like throwing up. I put on the gown and mask and open the door. The nurses in the operating room all look at me. I can't see their mouths but I know they're smiling at me. It's okay to go in. The patient is on my bed. It's Blaine the Bear. He's stretched out and sleeping. "Thank goodness you're here, doctor", one of the nurses says to me. "We were getting worried." I can see that Blaine needs an operation. He has a hole in him already. I remember he got that when Jessie from next door got mad one day and tried to rip Blaine's arm off. I don't think I am going to forgive Jessie for that. Maybe I will. I haven't decided yet. The operation tools are in my doctor bag. I think I saw it in the closet last. I tell a nurse to get my bag. She doesn't hear me. I get it myself. Inside is a stethascope, bandages, little red pills, a head light thing, and a thermometer. I take Blaine's temperature. He's normal. I put a red pill in his mouth. He won't swallow it, so I eat it instead. It tastes like cinnamon. I wrap a bandage around Blaine's torn arm. He's gonna be just fine, I tell the nurses. I sit on the bed beside Blaine and eat a few more little red pills. Then I remember that cartoons will be on in a few minutes. I leave my room and go downstairs to the TV room. Dad's in there, watching a ball game. "How's the room?", he says to me. The room? I wonder what he means by that. I shrug and sit down next to him on the sofa. He puts his arm around my shoulder and I lean against his chest and watch the ball game for a while. I don't really understand the game, but when dad cheers, I cheer. When dad groans, I groan. I'm thinking about the ball players. They're like TV stars. They don't really play the ball game, they just act like they are. Like in the movie "Little League". I pretend I'm directing the movie. I'm telling the ball players what they have to do to make it look like a real ball game. Dad shushes me. So then I decide to be the game announcer. I make up stories about the players. Dad laughs at me. Mom calls to us and says dinner's in 20 minutes. I ask dad if the game will be finished by then. He say's it won't be. I ask if we can stay downstairs and watch it till it's over. No way, he says. "Shoot", we both say together. Dad ruffles my hair. I don't really like when he does that because then I feel like I have messy hair, even after I try and flatten it back down. I'm tired of the game. I'm hungry now. I go upstairs and hang around mom in the kitchen. I ask for a snack. I get the look. She tells me to set the table. Nuts. My timing sucks today. I put plates and stuff on the table. I ask mom what's for dinner. She says chicken. I imagine we are eating rattle snake. I will have to peel away the skin and eat the meat away from the little bones. I get all the rattles at the end of dinner and make a necklace with them. I can wear the necklace when I do my Indian dance. I'll make cool noises when I do that. I ask mom if we can have rattlesnake instead of chicken. I want that necklace. She laughs at me. I wasn't being funny this time. I wonder why mom laughs at me so much. Maybe it's my messy hair. After dinner I remember that I missed my cartoons. I start to cry. Dad gets mad. Mom doesn't say anything. She just looks at me with that soft little eye thing she does. It makes me cry more. Dad sends me to my room. Blaine is still sleeping. I eat some more red pills. I imagine that the tonka truck up dad's nose is now a great big huge dump truck and it's going to collect all of dad's boogers. Then I decide to send a backhoe up his nose too. Pretty soon I have about six trucks in dad's nose. Serves him right for making me miss my cartoons. Home Back Ahead