Littlethumb Sneezed

"Once when he was a boy, Littlethumb sneezed and the whole world froze."

1
The recently present, told in the slightly past tense. I remember it was an unusually temperate Fourth of July weekend. Climate change jokes flew about as busily as the endless supply of summer mosquitoes. The jokes could sting as well, and depending on the social circles in which they were let loose would open the door for more serious conversations about the state of the world's environment, politics, and of course, what we would do with all of the old folks once Florida finally sunk.

A young girl, probably eight, nine, or ten years old, walked along the boardwalk of Coney Island. She was eight. That's right. She was with her governess. The girl's name was Isabel. Isabel was a plump little spirit in a red and white polka dot dress. She had on red shoes and a little white hat with a single red rose pinned to the side.

She wasn't fat, mind you. I said plump. She had the roundness of a child who will stretch out on her own with time. She had strawberry blond hair and freckles, and to be honest, she already put off a bit of a bitchy vibe. It wasn't her fault. She was the product of an angry conception.

I kid. Beware of wandering non-sequiturs. The child was a little darling.

Isabel started the day wearing a pair of white gloves but quickly realized they impeded her ability to navigate the touch screen of her stupid "smart" device. She held her phone out in front of her, thumbing away at its controls with impressive speed and accuracy. Around her right wrist was a leash.

Isabel's governess was named Maria. Maria was tall, darkly tanned with even darker long hair, and despite no specific ethnicity that I was aware of, she emitted the allure of foreign culture. You would expect her to speak with an accent, and your mind would naturally assume every word from her mouth to be sensual in its delivery. Not in some cheap, unimaginative sexual way. She was simply lovely. Dare I say, angelic?

The child and her au pair held a special bond with one another. In an earlier era, they most likely would have held hands, swinging their arms back and forth together as their heels gently tapped along the boardwalk. That day, they are connected at the wrist with Velcro straps and a stretchy cable to ensure they could not get separated. Children on leashes. It's really not such a bad idea but it still seemed odd to me, although I am glad that all those old phone-cord manufacturers found a way to re-brand their product after communication went wireless.

Maria had a mobile phone in her hand as well. She read as Isabel sent her text message after text message. Isabel was much faster at it than Maria, so it is a fairly one-sided conversation. Besides, Isabel was a child, and not one who asked a lot of questions. Most of her conversations were one-sided. Maria mostly nodded in agreement, smiled, or shook her head "no" to keep up her end of the tête-à-tête. Isabel had learned to communicate with Maria in a manner that almost always made one of those three responses the one Isabel was looking for.

As they made their way and enjoyed the sights and sounds of the boardwalk on a holiday weekend, they happened across one of the last bastions of artistic dissidence: a caricature artist. Isabel had made a beeline for the cotton candy. She wove her way through the crowd, cutting a path through the main flow of human traffic, pulling Maria behind her. Once they popped out on the other side of all the people in their way, Maria and Isabel discovered the artist set up next to the cotton candy stand.

The cotton candy purveyor was yammering on to the artist, while the man with the brush in his hand quietly put paint to paper. His little easel was turned at just the necessary angle so that no one would really be able to see what he was working on unless they were able to sneak up on him from behind, which would have been difficult as his back was to a railing that ran along the slightly elevated boardwalk, separating it from the beach.