After a Walk in the Park
ME: Did you like having our silly time today? Did you like our walk?
HIM: I saw … walky … and … (Starts giggling.)
ME: You saw a walky?
HIM: I will crush you.
HIM: Be certain that I am your undoing. I am everything. There were three things in my beginning: my interrupted biological sleep, a birth, and the end to a warm darkness and silence. And now I am here with you. And a reckoning is coming, that’s all I’m saying.
When I Showed Him Pictures of Europe
ME: Do you know why people like to travel?
HIM: I’m silly travel! Silly travel!
ME: You’re what?
HIM: I was in the sky then. Watching you in England and France. And the Paris light that fell on a tired literary landmark and made you melancholy is the same light that is fueling me. You stood in gardens where your grandfather stood before hitting that fucking beach at Normandy. But what have you done, really? I can turn you inside out with one phrase: What have you done since 2003? Do you feel the sting of it? The reckoning is coming.
ME: Do you like SpongeBob? Is SpongyBobby silly?
Before the Babysitter Arrived
ME: Will you be good for Colleen? Do you know Daddy doesn’t want to go away for a week, but he has to?
HIM: I’ve been in your cells. I have literally seen that you are made of billions of tiny pieces of “Don’t want to” and billions of tiny pieces of “But I have to.” Every piece of you is in struggle instead of motion. Every atom in this room knows that it must move and it doesn’t resist or struggle with that part of its nature. It doesn’t argue with its urge to be in motion, and because of this, things like that coffee table remain solid. If the atoms in that table stopped moving, that table would cease to be matter, this we know. Well, it’s like that with people, too, really. You see, inside all of us is a cellular and genetic code centuries old, designed to keep us in constant motion on a cellular level, some cells living, some cells dying, all part of the wiring designed to keep you living, to keep you moving, to keep you growing. But Daddy has to fight it, doesn’t he? Daddy has to think about it, and analyze it, doesn’t he? So, inside of Daddy the cells receive their usual neurological directives, and then they listen to the hemming and hawing and wondering. The “I don’t want to, but I have to” song and dance. The “Someday maybe, oh never mind, forget it” dance. The cells lurch to and fro, unsure of what they’re being told. And for this, sir, you are literally the cause of your own cowardice. You are literally trying to make what is you disappear, cease to be matter. In that regard, you are biologically your own worst enemy, and I am your day of reckoning, the person who makes you stop fighting yourself. The person who makes you finally understand how to give in to your nature and enjoy the reward and abundance of that.
ME: Do you want a silly juicy? Are you thirsty? Thirsty juicy?
HIM: Will you ever see it? You are literally made of a billion tiny conflicts and it’s killing you.