Archive for the ‘David Kopaska-Merkel’ Category
What are we going to do with Mary Ann?
Thursday, January 17th, 2008
Mary Ann sat down at the dining room table. She waited for her father to say grace. He did not. He said “Mary Ann.” She was so surprised that she dropped her fork.
“Yes father,” she said demurely, eyes down.
“Mary Ann,” he said again, “I hardly know how to say this. Have you been… talking to… that young habilis boy?”
Mary Ann’s face turned red as her hair. Her brother giggled.
Her mother gasped. “They’re animals! That’s disgusting!” She jumped up from the table and ran out of the room. Soon she could be heard in the bathroom.
Mary Ann jerked her head up and glared straight at her father. “Pastor said two weeks ago that they are people just as much as we.”
“That ape has more hair than your dog,” her brother said, and laughed. “Does he use dog shampoo or people shampoo? Does he have to take walks twice a day? Do you pick…”
“William!” Her father said, “that is enough.”
“If you must know,” Mary Ann continued, “Peter is helping me with geometry homework. But he has asked me to the dance. And I said yes.”
William started making ape noises.
“I’m trying to be understanding,” her father said. “He’s 3 feet tall and covered with as much hair as a retriever. He is as strong as a gorilla, as smart as a chimpanzee, and probably won’t live past 40. Where did we go wrong?”
“Don’t you see dad? You taught me to see people as people. You should be proud.”
“Proud that my grandchildren will need to shave their entire bodies before they can go out in public?”
“No! Proud that they, or their children, will be accepted as equal, because you taught me that a man is a man, no matter what he looks like.”
Her mother, standing in the doorway, turned white and disappeared again suddenly.
“Dad. Peter and I are friends.” Mary Ann flicked a lock of hair off of her forehead.
Her father sighed deeply. “So. When are you going to invite him to dinner? Is he allergic to anything?
“Does he eat pork?”
The end
Toe Testing Time
Friday, January 11th, 2008
The farm has done much better since we started growing baby heads. They’ll grow anywhere, but more sunlight makes them grow faster. The plants set more fruit, and we can take the heads to market sooner. They spend less time in the babbling stage and Marie, well, that part drives her crazy. My favorite part is harvesting. They say the strangest things. Stuff like “midnight’s noon/and noon midnight/bright flash of darkness comes.” I write the good ones down. I figure I’ll publish them, be famous someday.
One winter we nearly ran out of food. All we had left in the cellar were some heads rejected by the conglomerate the previous fall. We’d already put them in the back room, they made such a racket. You wouldn’t believe the language they used when we dumped them into the hot water.
The end