chapter*Liss
Family family family family. Family family. Goon.
Mega Cock needs a diaper change.
Family family family family. Family family. Goon.
What’s behind door number three? I’m scared to think. Here’s one. They look respectable. They look neighbor-hoody.
Family family family family. Family Family. (——)
Mega Cock, come on, let’s get your diaper changed. Knock knock knock. Knock knock. This better not be a goon. Ring ring! Ding dong. Knock. Knock. Goon.
No lights are on.
Here’s what we passed before this:
1. House with Hot Wheels in front—multiples—we passed them cause they already have enough kids to take care of
2. House where I couldn’t reach the door
3. House that scared me for no reason. I trusted my intuition
Now we’re at door number four. Knock knock knock. Hold on baby. Hold on. Here’s a light. Here. Hallway light. I can see into the room. This guy comes rolling out. He’s in a wheelchair. Oh, no, I didn’t mean to disturb a guy in a wheelchair. Mega Cock. You’re too much trouble. emphLeave him here. No, you can’t do that. Leave a baby on a doorstep. For some guy in a wheelchair. You can’t do that. He’s looking. He sees us. He has a remote that opens the door. “Hi.” “Well hello there.” “We need help.” “Come in,” the guy says, “Come in.” His house is big. It’s bigger than Cock’s. Cock’s house is kindof tacky. This guy’s house has panache. This guy’s house has statues, too, but they’re not broken. “Nice statues.” “Thank you. What was that?” “I said nice statues.” I’m tapping my foot. “We need a diaper change.” The guy presses forward on his wheelchair. Zeeeeeeeeeeengh. He rolls toward me. “Is that your baby?” “He’s my mom’s.” “Where’s your mom?” “She’s sleeping. Sorry if we woke you. Were you sleeping?” “Yes,” the guy says, “I was.” Cock is wailing. “I don’t have any diapers,” the guy says. “Do you want me to call someone? Maybe the police?” “No,” I say. That won’t be necessary. “The police already came.” “Oh,” the guy says. Grief, the guy’s in his pajamas. “I need to borrow..like..a t-shirt..and some tape.” The guy nods. “Do you have masking tape?” He nods again. “Also,” I say, “This is going to make a mess. Do you have anywhere that I could make a mess?” The guy points out back. “By the pool,” he says. I put Mega Cock on the kitchen floor. The guy zooooooms along behind us. “I’ll just use right here if that’s okay,” I say. He doesn’t object.
How could he? How could he. I’m imagining Candy and Cock and Dad showing up here in the middle of the night. Some guy in a wheelchair. They’d prob’ly kill him. Just for fun.
“So your mom’s sleeping?” the guy asks. “Did I say she was? Actually,” I say, “I don’t know where my mom is.” At home, in bed. I wonder if Richard called her. “I doubt it,” I say out loud. “What?” “I said I doubt he called her.” The wheelchair guy has everything in the lower cabinets. He gets me a plastic bag. “You can cut it,” he suggests. “You know what this baby needs?” I smile. The guy doesn’t know. I say: “Breathing holes.” You don’t want to wrap a baby in plastic—even his bum. It could disallow the skin to breathe.
“How do you like your vista?” I ask the guy. “My vista?” “How do you like your view? Or can’t you see—I’m sorry.” “I can see. I can see. The vista..it’s wonderful. It’s why I moved here.” “Where did you live before?” “I was..emphin the vista. Too far down. I couldn’t see.” “That must have sucked,” I say, poking holes in a trash bag. “Use a Zip-Loc,” the guy offers. “Are you sure? I know they’re expensive.” “They’re what—a dollar?” He’s admiring my craftsmanship. “You’ve already come this far.” “And I woke you up. Do you have a wife?” “No, I’m..” “Are you gay? It’s okay. I have progressive parents.” “Your parents are progressives, huh?” “So..are you? I mean is that why you don’t have a wife?” “No,” he says, “I just like..to be alone.” “Why?” “Because it’s quiet.” “Except when neighbors knock on your door to change a diaper.” “Do you live around here?” “I could use a little more quiet. From time to time,” I say. “I haven’t been getting enough lately. How long have you been alone?” The guy opens a water. “Thirty years?” “Well, that’s good. I’m going to be alone someday. After tonight. I gotta get this baby back.” The guy has his phone out. “Don’t bother,” I say. “What shouldn’t I bother with?” “Calling the cops. We’re them. I mean..it’s us. We’re all the same.” The guy shakes his head. “You..want a water? You want some water for..” “Him. Yeah. He’s a he. Sure. Tha’d be great.” I look at him. He zooms off. “Thanks man.”
And now the diaper’s done. It’s a contraption. It’s a mousetrap. It’s a Rube Goldberg—if you know what that is. It’s like the diaper Apollo 13 astronauts would have designed on the fly. With whatever materials they had available. Square peg/round hole. I love that shit. You’ve got five minutes. Go. You can take: 1. A water heater 2. Four tubes of Crest 3. This beat-up copy of Eat, Pray, Love You have to make a diaper that will: 1. Withstand temperatures to 4000 $^circ$K 2. Fit babies up to age seven and as low as minus a month 3. Allow the baby’s butt to breathe Failure to meet these specifications will result in immediate elimination. Of your project.
———————
“Is he tired?” The guy hands me a water. “Do you want to sleep?” There’s a plush couch in the living room. “You can stay for a minute and rest him.” “You’re not gonna call the police?” He swigs his water. “We’re us, they’re them, remember?” “You don’t seem like a pervert,” I say. “But no, I gotta get him back. Thanks for the help. For the record: are you a pervert? Don’t answer. It’s rude of me to ask. Thanks for the bag and—” I’m struggling with Mega Cock. “—the water. Thanks. Thanks for being nice. Not everyone is.” “I know,” the guy says. And I’m heading for the door. “I’ll leave it unlocked. The phone’s right here.” He sets it on a giant statue. This one’s of a lion lying down. Reclining. Perfectly nice statue. “Why don’t you break yours?” I ask. But I don’t hear his answer. I’m looking in the side-wing. This is the house. I didn’t recognize it from eye-level. “Oh man, I’m so sorry.” “Why?” The roof to his side-wing is all glass. Skylights. There would have been four. Now there are mostly three. Little frags of glass everywhere. At least the guy doesn’t have to step on the floor. “My bunny did that,” I admit. The guy zooms his chair up to the door. He’s peering at my baby. “Is that Mega Cock?” he asks. “Yeah,” I say. “I gotta go.”
House house house house. House house. Zoo.
Mega Cock’s diaper is crinkling. If you’re in NASA it doesn’t matter what your diaper is made out of. In space there is no sound. Stars shining down on me. Black sky. We broke that guy’s emphskylight. A guy in a wheelchair! I have to talk to Dad. We have to pay for it. At the very least we have to pay for it.
House house house house. House house. Zoo!
But I got my quiet. It’s quiet now. Step step step step. Back up the vista. Up to the top of the hill. We picked a good house, didn’t we baby! We picked a good house. That could have been much worse. We’ll have to at least write that guy a emphthank you note. At the very least we’ll do that. You like your diaper don’t you! We’re lucky we have friends here. This is a big neighborhood little baby. But we’re safe. We’re safe. We’ve got each other. Don’t you worry little Mega Mega, we’ll get you up this hill. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. Look! There’s a sprinkler! It’ll be morning soon. Up this step with me Mega Mega. Up. And up a step. There we go. Let’s turn around and look. There’s my vista. What time is it Mega Mega? Do you have the time? There’s the road. There’s no cars on it. Not one. There’s no one swimming. There’s no dawn in that sky. What time is it my little baby? I’m cold. Are you cold? You’re heavy, baby. Wait, is it this way? Where am I? Oh, baby, we shoulda walked the road! This is the path! This is it, right?! Don’t worry. We can always go back. That way is the man in the wheelchair. There’s the house I have a bad feeling about. We must be on the trail. Next we have to find the house where I couldn’t reach the door. I don’t see it! Oh, baby, don’t fret now, I’ve got you. Hold on baby. How’s that diaper? Mega Mega. Who’s my little Mega Mega? Then we have to find the house with the Hot Wheels. Which I don’t see either. It’s okay, Mega. We’re fine. Oh look! Mega! There’s a kitty! She can lead our way! “Here little kitty.” She sees us. “Hi little kitty!” She doesn’t like the way you smell. You do smell kinda bad Mega Mega. Mainly your..everything. “Come’ere kitty. Come’ere. What’s your name?” Putting down Mega Mega for a second. “Just: sit. Okay?” He’s so quiet. I wish he would cry. Cry like a normal baby, Mega Mega. Didn’t you learn to cry? And here’s my little kitty. “Come’ere little one? Are you lost? Where’s your home? Do you have a momma kitty? It’s okay.” Putting out my hand to her. She’s sniffing me. I think she can tell there’s something wrong with us. She doesn’t look friendly up close. She’s the right size for a cute kitty but without the cuteness. Of course Mega Mega’s messing everything up. The kitty turns away. “Oh, kitty.” She doesn’t hear me. I meow. emphCome back, kitty. Come back. But she doesn’t. The kitty goes away.