literature

tenfortyfive to elevenfifteen

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Literature Text

10:45 to 11:15


Shall we begin?

It's doubtful the word "precocious" applies here. Precociousness implies a certain air of innocence while being both terminally cute and bright at the same time. While you were, and still are, incredibly blessed in the cuteness department, you suffered from a certain streak of sneakiness that kept everyone on edge whenever they were around you.

Sorry, but you look confused. Perhaps a demonstration would help?

*CLICK*

As you can see, you were adorable even straight out of the chute. Definitely you were what they would call "Gerber-baby-label material." A full head of blonde-blonde hair, round doe eyes, a full fat chin, and a shiny pink forehead that even the nurses found irresistible. Just days old and already the ladies' man, your claim to fame was that you had two of the largest sets of eyelashes anyone had ever seen on a boy. Your mother would dress you in blue outfits every day, but whenever she showed you off in public, all the shopping carts would converge on you with strains of "Isn't she a princess?" or "Can I hold her?" or "Will you look at the living doll?"

The eyelashes thing secretly petrified your dad, of course. He was afraid you were going to turn out gay or something. Stupid and insecure, yes, but also quite true. He fought hard for masculine names like Marcus or Jake, while your mom wanted more velveteen names like Peter or Phillip.

*CLICK*

This went on for weeks. Even in this shot of your first bath, you were still "That Baby." Sure, there was Bugaboo, Tiddlywinks, Sport, Honker, Squeeze-ums, Tatertot, Burpalotamus, Gremlin, and dozens more that aren't showing here in your folder.

*CLICK*

Apparently, your christening was postponed twice before the whole thing was eventually shoved under the rug. It also shows here that the front cover of your baby book was never filled in.

What a shame.

*CLICK*

You filled out well, obviously, and went straight from crawling to doing the 40-yard dash around the nursery. By your one-year birthday, you had already figured out the function of the toilet handle, the ice cube dispenser, the TV remote, the dog door, and your mom's curling iron. Your grandparents were terrified of your reckless curiousity and would always find excuses not to baby-sit you.

Despite the fact that you were a colicky baby, ridden with ear infections, cradle cap and baby teeth that never wanted to cut, you were a relatively content infant that spread love wherever you went. So much love, in fact, that your parents couldn't keep their hands off each other once you slept through your night feedings. So, one year after your birth, almost to the day...

*CLICK*

... your twin sisters were born. High-maintenance little urchins they were, too. Your father claimed that if there ever really was such a thing as a nervous breakdown, he had one when he switched his job to a double-shift. Chelsea and Christy would trade baby viruses back and forth like a tennis ball, forcing your mother to be less of a nurturing force in your life and more of a line judge. To this day, she still complains about that time in her life, where she spent most of her waking hours driving you back and forth to the pediatrician.

High-maintenance indeed. It's been assumed that it was then, when the center of your bright little universe shifted aside, that you started seeking attention. Your methods, however, almost defy description.

*CLICK*

This is evidence of the one and only sleepover you had at your grandparent's house. How you made it to the top of the refrigerator like that is still a mystery. Grandma Fae claims you kept repeating, "Too-tee, too-tee..." as she took you down from your perch in the kitchen. It wasn't until she found Grandpa Pete's stash of Oreos up there that she understood you to mean, "Cookie, cookie..."

Grandpa Pete laughed himself hoarse and gave you another nickname: Spiderman. Grandma Fae slapped him, and three months later they apparently filed for divorce.

*CLICK*

Here's a shot of you the day you discovered the function of the emergency brake handle in your mom's Ford Aerostar. The manager at Wal-Mart says you coasted the minivan backwards over three lanes before crashing to a standstill. This picture is particularly telling in that you are still posing behind the wheel with a huge smile on your face. You were obviously happy about your accomplishment, don't you think?

*CLICK*

A copy of the invoice from the Mercedez-Benz body shop: $2,300 for a new grill and front quarter-panel. Even at an early age, you demonstrated a keen palette for expensive automobiles.

*CLICK*

Everyone's favorite, of course, is your first outing to the zoo. It was your father's first Saturday off in five months, and although he was somewhat haggard from his job at the warehouse, he insisted on enjoying some "quality family time" together. Your mother was not pleased, to say the least.

Your father was prancing around with his new video camera as you were strollered around from one display to the next. He was eager to capture your face as you saw your first zebra, your first ostrich, your first penguin. Cutaways to your mother's face show that the only thing she really wanted was a cold draft beer from the Rainforest Snack Shack and five minutes peace from you all and your father. The tape is around here somewhere if you want to see it, but the stills should suffice.

*CLICK*

It's still unclear what happened next. Your father claims that your mother was watching you, yet she claims up and down that he was seen holding you last. Well, nevertheless, your sudden appearance in the cheetah cage was a shock to everyone, as you can see here.

*CLICK*

Yes, that's the mother cheetah giving you a tongue bath.

*CLICK*

Your father was the first to attempt the wrought-iron fence, but it was a good thing they stopped him, otherwise he would've looked like the zoo attendant as seen in this photo. She gained the use of her hand after only four months of physical therapy; you'd never guess that by the way this looks, but it's more the angle of the shot here that's so deceiving...

*CLICK*

... and how the news crews got there so quickly is still surprising, as they beat the fire department by a full ten minutes. It's actually quite humorous, you know, as your demure Christian mother was able to use the F-word seven times on live TV before they turned the cameras off-

Oh, dear, but look at the time! Where did it go? Can you see to it to make another appointment for Wednesday, this same time? There's so much more to cover, as your kindergarten history and the story about the pit bull will assuredly take up most of the next session.

That's great. Cheery-O then?

*CLICK*
... while developing a comic plot line that came to me in some stream-of-consciousness writing, this is my first devoted attempt at writing a short story solely in 2nd person... I'm looking to build on this, and am open to any comments on how to make it better... suggestions definitely welcome...
© 2002 - 2024 rapidograph
Comments5
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jmcc's avatar
Nifty. I'll be back later to go over it more thoroughly, but I liked it.