Friday, April 1, 2011

Fool's Day

You think it’s around 7 am when you become conscious this morning, but you're dead to the world.  Can’t move or open your eyes.  Brain gearing up, but angry.  Didn‘t go to sleep until 3 am because of the spectacle of police activity beyond the property line.  You can't see it yet but you know the room is bathed in a gray light of a gray rainy morning.  It won't be helping you wake.  You hear one of the kids creeping around the room.  You hear some kind of tapping on your nightstand.  A strange squishy sound.  But you're dead to the world and can’t open your eyes.  You hear doors closing.  You hear giggling.  But you're dead to the world.  Fully conscious that there’s movement in the room, but you can’t move or open your eyes.  You fall back into deep sleep, probably only for a minute, before your daughter jumps on the bed and demands you turn on the TV.  You manage a grunt. You turn your head to face the night stand, break the gummy seal on your eyelids and reach your hand for the remote control.  You hesitate because it’s covered in marshmallows.  You're a sightless bat so you reach for your glasses, your eyes, but they are covered with marshmallows, too.  You blink a few times, lubricating the orbs, enough to determine it is not marshmallows.  Maybe Peeps?  Peeps are pink or green, though.  Are Peeps white?  The smell hits your nose, soap.  No, not soap.  There’s a tang to the odor.  Shaving cream.  Barbisol Beard Buster Thick and Rich, to be precise.  Your brain awakens and cements the fact:  the remote and your glasses - your eyes! - are encapsulated in Barbisol Bear Buster Thick and Rich shaving cream.  And, yes, you fool, it’s April Fool’s Day.  The brain hears giggling and there’s mirthful bouncing on the bed.  But your brain is a deep, nasty lair for an angry demon.  The demon rises fast, but he can’t see because his eyes need a shave.  And now’s he’s pissed and yelling as he attempts to waken and he’s without reason and without humor and without love.  A towel is demanded and the glasses are handed over for immediate cleansing and there’s a lecture about never, ever touching someone's glasses because They Are My Eyes.  And we don’t own the remote, only rent it from the cable company and it can’t get broken or wet, otherwise we will have to Manually Change the Channel on the TV!  Do you understand, little girl!   The lines that cannot be crossed are referenced.  The rules of funny are invoked.  And then there are tears and doors slamming.  You're finally fully awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, squeaky clean glasses on your face and a degreased TV remote in your hand, but the buffers and firewalls and malware programs have been booted too late and the demon virus has ruined a little girl’s day. 

I am a goddamned fool.