Congratulations go out to our new favorite dude, Aaron C. He’s the lucky dude who won that fantastic WebMD baby prize pack.
You had to be at it to win it, but he was there and he did win. At the Baby Shower & Toddler Expo, Barry and I set up a nice little bowl (actually a former container for trail mix from Tarzhay) so people could drop their contact information and possibly win the great stuff.
WebMD is a very nice outfit, quite generous.
So, Aaron C.? We’re trying to reach you by e-mail so we can find a way to get you the prize package. If you know Aaron C., and, really, why wouldn’t you?, give him a pat on the back and a hearty smile, one that just barely hides the jealousy seething within as you contemplate the raw, appalling emotional wound festering inside you all because you decided to sit home last weekend.
And now for something. . . not so completely different.
Here’s a little something I wrote during the Expo. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. All events are fictional, and any resemblance to any person or group, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Barry is dancing again.
He’s dancing to Hell’s House Band. I’ll have nightmares about this for years to come. Those appalling puppet things, with their blank, dead eyes, moving in hitching, jerking spasms that only vaguely resemble human musculature. And Barry. His face contorted in some rictus, rather than a smile.
And he’s . . . moving. I can’t call it dancing, I just can’t. There’s something missing in this, some essential joy that has been driven out in his all-consuming desire to please his puppety masters.
This Expo has been so long. I’ve forgotten the warmth of the sun, and the feel of clean rain swirling down from storm-tossed clouds. The music just won’t stop and. . .
Oh.
Oh, no.
My foot. It’s. . . It’s twitching. In rhythm. And Hell’s House Band is still playing.
I think it’s too late for me.
Run! Run! Save yourselves!
Ah, good times. Good times.
Wait, I hear you asking. You said the names were changed to protect the innocent and yet there’s Barry’s name up there, bold as brass. To which I answer, “Yes. And?”
