Once upon a time, when Papa was just a little boy,
he sat behind Rosie as she washed dishes at the sink. He was sitting on a tall barstool looking across the narrow counter to where Rosie stood, with her back to him, busily washing dishes. She made him sit here, so she could keep her eye on him, but sadly, she did not have eyes in the back of her head and so could not see what kind of mess he was making behind her!
Dougie, even at the age of three, understood very well the "laws of disintegration," wherein things break down, come apart, and somehow through forces unseen, ultimately disappear from the world altogether. Favorite toys crumbled into pieces, tires came off of cherished matchbox cars, eyes popped off of favored teddy bears, and then out of Dougie's sight, they must have continued their disintegration until they were gone, because Dougie saw them in the land of the living no longer (it would be a few years before he learned about toy heaven, where all good toys go, and other comforting fables).As he sat behind Rosie, watching her busy form rocking and sweating over the dishes, Dougie contemplated his horrific peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He detested them, especially the way Rosie, his babysitter, made them. And she watched him, she did, she watched him and forced him to eat every bite of the detested sandwich (early sandwiches had gone the way of Rosie's dog, but Rosie wised up to that method, too fast, as dogs lick and lick for hours, sometimes crippling their tongues in their never-ending licking after consuming a pb&j sandwich).Dougie hefted the sandwich in his hand, and looked thoughtfully at Rosie's back. Hmmmm, was it possible? Could the same thing happen with sandwiches as inevitably happened with toys?Could he, in fact, by working hard, make the detested sandwich disappear? He knew very well that sandwiches naturally broke into flaky crumbs, as Rosie always complained about his messy habits. But what if he helped out in the process of disintegration?Boldly, he set to work on his plan. He ripped the sandwich in half, and then in quarters. Those pieces he halved, and then quartered. And amazingly enough, it seemed to be working. The sandwich was definitely much smaller. Granted, there was still a considerable bulk of bread, and the jelly was making quite a mess, not to mention all the smearing peanut butter, but he figured that he just was not working fast enough. Keeping an eye peeled on the babysitter he began rolling the bread under his hands, as if his hands were rolling pins, and sure enough crumbs flew everywhere.He got rid of the crust by dropping it between his feet. You just knew that these barstools were so tall that nobody would ever notice some paltry breadcrusts way, way down there on the far-away floor.Dougie paused, for only a moment. He considered his work. True, it was a mess, but it certainly didn't even look like a sandwich any longer. Nobody, I mean nobody could accuse him of not eating a sandwich, as the sandwich was definitely gone.A lot of crumbs, however, certainly there WERE a lot of crumbs. So Dougie began spreading these out, reaching his arms like a cross, pushing crumbs to that end of the bar and to that end of the bar, all the while uneasily keeping an eye on Rosie, because the babysitter could turn around at any moment. Now there was a thick carpet of destroyed sandwich spread across the entire surface of the bar. Some of these he pushed forward into the stove (maybe some would burn).He rubbed the jelly into the thinnest coating possible. You could almost rub it away entirely. The peanut butter didn't disappear so easily, however, and he started pulling the goo forward and wrapping it under the bar, since it stuck so well, almost as good as glue.Would it fool her? Sweat was pouring off his forehead. He felt light-headed. He knew he was going to get in trouble. He knew he was going to get a spanking, because now as he looked at it, there seemed to be more sandwich than ever. These were the days when spanking another family's child was considered a great favor to that family, and Dougie received more than a few spankings, generally simple swats from Rosie, every single day he visited the babysitter.It would be nice if I could end this story here, with some fun twist, but the sad truth is I don't remember what happened to that industrious little fellow as he with almost superhuman intent did everything imaginable to make that sandwich vanish from the face of the Earth. I just don't remember what happened. I know of course that it didn't end well, I can imagine very well what Rosie's face looked like when she finally turned around and what could only be perceived as a "demon child" was found painting her entire house with peanut butter and jelly and endless supplies of breadcrumbs.For my own sanity, I probably blocked the culmination of this tragic little scenario. Oh, I can imagine many things very well, but I never allow myself to think the end of this tale, not in memory, and not now.Little Dougie must go on for eternity, willing that sandwich smaller and smaller until, frantically breaking the crumbs into half crumbs, ultimately splitting the very atom and the whole house, the whole neighborhood, the whole city of Huntington Beach disappears in a bright mushroom cloud that smells suspiciously of peanut butter and jelly.All Stories © 2009 Douglas Christian Larsen
important - FIGHT THE FLU WITH HERBS - important
