The Firefly Field Theory

|6| Shit Happens: Part III

PART III:

Her butt decides to let its charm wash over me, so next thing you know it lands on me. Forcing me to abruptly change my mind. I gasp in response to this contact of massive Titanic hindquarters and feeble abdomen, as a reflex my arms rise to the rescue and push weakly at the lady's shoulder closest to them. In an instant my breath gets stuck in my wind pipe giving me the feeling of swallowing a blade.

’Not Tolerable’ ‘Not Tolerable’ ‘Not Freakin Tolerable’ the snail yells as it struggle to keep the wheel spinning. My body is pinned down in the most horrifying sense. Her humungous bottom, like a spongy paper weight, obstructing any kind of motion (translational, rotational and vibrational) from my stomach down to both my knee caps.

Of course what seemed like a long time to me, was only a second late response to the giant lady. Of course her response came eventually and saved me from instant death by an attack only a panda could use to kill threats. But before she saves me from doom she does three very disturbing things.             

They happen fast and in the following order 1.She makes a gasping sound whilst sitting on me. 2. She makes a short surprised shrieking sound whilst sitting on me and 3. She makes a loud farting sound whilst sitting on top of me.

Call it prejudice the only sound that I pay sufficient attention to is the sound of music from her derriere. I mean first off when you sit on someone (even if it is by accident) you don’t waste time in gasping and crying out you get the fuck up and off. It’s like she gets so scared to see a dying girl under her massive bottom that she loses cabin pressure for a second. Like a squid leaking ink into sea water when it is under threat, she air raided me with deadly gas, except there was no siren to warn me. And she was under no threat I was the one literally under one huge and heavy threat with flabby cheeks. 

She gets up though. I breathe in heavily as she apologizes again and again. Mom and Mami run in and she tells them that she sat on me. I have a feeling she scratches out the fart we both heard and smelled. When they head to the living room I have no choice but to follow them reluctantly. Because as of now I'm not sleepy anymore.

Turns out she is an old friend of Moms', who came over to meet up after so long and also to invite us to her daughters’ wedding. She brought two of her chubby little kids along too. Turns out she didn’t see me because it was too dark and I had a crème colored comforter pulled over which camouflaged me as I lay atop the crème colored bedspread. Turns out she is deaf from one ear.

So that pretty much explained it all: The showing up in my room, the talking way too loudly, the missing a very long me on the bed. 

But the only question I have yet to resolve is that how in the name of farts did I miss such a giant being walk over to my bed with intentions of sitting on top of  the comforter that happened to be the only layer of protection I had against her weapons of mass destruction?

Hamster vs.  Slug aside, how could I miss that?

They keep the chit-chat going and occasionally the lady makes my Mom tell me how sorry she is for almost squashing me. Now I wasn’t even interested in bringing the fart-in-my-face-issue up again. Partly because I was fully aware of how funny it might sound to Mom and Mami and I did not find it the remotest bit of funny and partly because what the hell is a good explanation for a fart. You gotta fart; you gotta fart.

But then I hear Mom say Lomotil, and I know what Lomotil is used for. It happens to be a med used when someone has Diarrhea. And I’d be damned if I don't confirm it and I’d be damned if I don't ask how she got it in the first place and I’d be damned if my face doesn't scrunch up when Mom translates for me. The lady had contracted Diarrhea because she ate some bad fish two days ago. She looks at my disgusted expression with her miserable and regretful eyes. So that pretty much sums the case of bad fish vapor release in close proximity to me.

I soon decide it’s time I get out of here and catch some fresh air. And upon having no strength to go for a jog I head to the backyard of the house where I find Bravo, busy hanging the wet clothes on an outstretched wire. In the farther end one of the chubby little boys is busy drawing something on a piece of paper, he looks about seven maybe eight years old. I walk up to where he is working on his drawing. It's so painfully bright this morning I have to squint my eyes, maybe that's why I can't tell what the kid is drawing. If I were to guess, it has to be something that remotely resembles a birds' cage or an upside down laundry bucket or piss colored  rain or a fork dipped in honey or maybe something else, I’m not sure.

After a while, Annie rushes from behind me and says, “I found it!” She shows the boy the box she's holding. Now to me, the kid doesn't even look like he cares about the plastic box, but when Annie opens it to reveal an astounding number of compertments loaded with an astounding collection of beads, he perks up. She un wraps a piece of tissue and inside is a tube of super glue. With her thin fingers she picks up a bead and applies glue to it and then very carefully pastes it on the boys’ piece of paper. I watch them for a while then I decide to ask.

“What is your name?”

“Ali”, the boy replies in a barely audible tone.

“What are you drawing Ali?”I ask but he doesn’t care to answer me. It could be that he doesn’t get my accent or that he’s shy and doesn’t want to tell me. Either way I decide to leave Ali alone. And for some reason so does Annie, she picks up her box of beads and goes back into the house through the back door.

I leave the boy alone. As I walk away I hear him finally say something, but upon not understanding what that something is, I deliberately chose to walk away thinking that he being a kid was probably talking to an imaginary friend or something. He doesn’t stop saying it though. And after a while I finally figure out what the kid is saying. He repeats it again and again and each time with an urgency greater than the last. He is saying the ‘su’ in the word ‘sushi’ over and over again.

I hear the back door swing open and I spot Bravo carrying a basket loaded with damp clothes, it looks like she could use some help. Water drops drip from spaces in the tiny checker box frame work of the basket as she walks over to the wire, close to where I am standing. Bravo calls out to me to help her carry it. So I start walking up to her with one arm extended in an attempt to help her carry the clothes over. I cross the spot where the ‘susu’ singing boy stands looking at me eagerly and I am only a few steps from her when.

She trips.

The basket flies.

The boy says “Su Su”

We (basket and me) collide.

I fall to the ground face up.

The wet clothes fall out.

The same hand is still outstretched, this time to get some help instead of give it.

Bravo laughs, the kid laughs and every bird in the sky and every grasshopper who saw this collision laughs their ass off.

But not me. I’m worried, because to my surprise I landed on the chubby little boy. The kid happened to be standing right behind me and now all three of us (the boy, me and the bucket) are facing the sky. Until a very amused Bravo face obstructs our view.

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