Good Morning Wordmongers,
During lunch yesterday I drove to the bank to deposit a check for a ceramic piece sold the day before. There was a considerable back up as only two lanes were open. An inveterate people watcher, I began to scan the cars for someone ‘interesting’ to watch. After a quick survey I had to settle for weird but I hit pay dirt.
The Cherokee held three occupants. From the look of it the three appeared to be a mother with her two ‘special’ boys, also out running errands.
Mom wore the cares and sorrows of a woman twice her age all contained in her wrinkled and frowning face now permanently fixed. She gazed off into the sky, paying little attention to her two charges. I wondered if she knew whether it was her defective genes, or father’s that resulted in the outpouring of ‘Mongolism’ from her loins. I suspect it made it easier to take if someone else was to blame.
There were hints of an emerging trailer park queen about her, but she hadn’t quite evolved to that point. She was woefully obese but had not yet graduated to a thrift-shop wardrobe. However, I am confident that with a little focused effort, she could become a candidate for the Springer show within a year, two at most.
But I digress. The stars of the show were clearly her boys. Both were mongoloid. The one in the front seat looked much brighter than his brother, who sat behind mom. They both wore ball caps, and with a little neck craning I could see that the hats bore their names in white iron-on letters. Perhaps they were souvenirs from a trip to a local fair, or most likely a part of mom’s management strategy.
In case she lost them at the mall or flea market the one in the front seat was labeled “KENNY”. His face narrower, his features less round and able to keep his mouth halfway closed he appeared to be a higher functioning lad. He wore glasses, which lent a dignified and intellectual air to his countenance.
His brother labeled “TIMMY,” looked as though he was more seriously shortchanged in the genetic ballet that makes us who we are. Timmy had the broad round face, vacant slanted eyes and drooling open mouth of a true mongoloid. Less animated than Kenny, and slouching against the restraint of his shoulder belt, Timmy was clearly befuddled.
As I stared over at little Timmy he slowly turned toward me. I’m not sure what motivated him; but I’d like to think he was aware of my boredom and sick need for entertainment, but truthfully, I think that’s unlikely.
At any rate, lil’ Timmy locked on with his baleful stare, and without any discernible warning, proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach on the inside of the window. He sat calmly as if a daily occurrence while a yellowish, mostly liquid, stream of vomit gushed forth in potent waves, splashing off the window and back onto his shoulders and face.
Kenny was the first to notice, and began to laugh maniacally. Mom spun around to help but there was little she could do from the driver’s seat.
I was curious as to what mom was going to do. Would she pull out of line and deal with the mess, or let Timmy sit tight until she could conduct her business, and then exit the line more gracefully? I was stupefied as she barked out orders to Kenny as he obediently exited the car, opened the rear passenger door, and climbed in swabbing the puke off of his brother’s face and clothes with Kleenex.
Of course, we all know that Kleenex is hardly the appropriate product and were futile in this situation. As soon as the wet barf soaked tissue reached his hands it disintegrated! His laughter and glee regarding TIMMY’S condition waned. His mom pulled wad after wad of Kleenex and thrust them into to his increasingly reluctant hands.
Eventually the sights, smells and grisly task proved too much for Kenny. In mid-swab, he opened his mouth wide lurching forward and donated his lunch to Timmy. He layered chunks on his shoulders and hair while heaving three more times. Kenny’s expulsion was not as runny, so the putrid bits stayed put on Timmy’s hair, face and clothes.
I was nearly doubled over at the wheel at the antics going on next to me. I was waiting for mom to turn around and blow chunks on Timmy, if for no other reason than to make it a true “family affair”. Sadly, I suspect her hellish life of raising the boys has given her a strong stomach for coping with such things.
Unfortunately the line moved forward and I lost my view. Unable to continue with the “Little shop of horrors” I reached the suction tube and deposited my check.
I bid a fond farewell to Kenny, Timmy and mom as they made my day. But that has to be one hell of a burden to bear!
I’m very thankful for my own maladies….jeez.