grumbled.
"Yes, I would," Durinda grumbled back, "but that's because Zinnia is sweet while you're..."
"Yes, I do know exactly what I am," Rebecca said, filling the void left by Durinda's unfinished sentence.
"Just for the record," Zinnia piped up, "I'd never ask for a glass of pulp."
"We all know that," Annie said.
"And if I did go crazy and ask for one," Zinnia went on, "I'd still have enough sanity left to also say please and thank you . Those are, after all, the magic words."
"We know that too," Annie said.
"You people make me crazier than I already am," Rebecca said, trudging off to the kitchen.
"I hope Petal's still alive," Jackie said.
"Do you see the way her little chest is heaving up and down?" Marcia observed. "I think that means she must be."
"Phew," Georgia said, "that's a relief."
We all turned to Georgia. When had she ever cared about Petal?
"What?" Georgia stared back at us, surprised and offended. "Where would I be without Petal? Why, without Petal, there'd be no one for me to call 'you little idiot.' I'd be devastated."
Of course.
Rebecca came back from the kitchen, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. A glass of raw eggs, a glass of pulp, a glass of orange-tinted battery acid—really, at this point it was anyone's guess what she'd been drinking in there.
"Well, I'm off again," she announced heartily. Then she paused, considering. "I wonder if Petal's up to continuing now..."
"That's nice of you to worry about Petal for once—" Annie started.
"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm worrying about her," Rebecca corrected, "just wondering."
"Whatever the verb," Annie said, "I am curious: just what are you doing with—or perhaps I should say to —Petal out there?"
Rebecca shrugged. "If you're so curious, why don't you come watch? It's a free country, after all. Isn't that what this day is all about?"
***
We all, including the Petes, followed Rebecca out to the front yard.
"Are you ready for more?" Rebecca asked Petal, grabbing Petal's hands and pulling her to her feet.
"I don't think—" Petal started to say, but Rebecca just tossed Petal over her shoulder and began racing around the house with her.
"That's what you call the fireman's carry," Rebecca informed us after a few laps. "Come on now, Petal, position yourself for the piggyback."
"I don't think—" Petal started to say.
Before we knew it, Rebecca was racing around the house some more with Petal clinging to her back for dear life. We knew then where the term piggyback had originally come from, because poor Petal was squealing like a pig.
"Okay," Rebecca said when she'd finished a few laps of that version. "Now, Petal, remember how to do Estonian style?"
Estonian style? What was going on here?
"I don't think—" Petal started to say.
In a moment, Petal was hanging upside down on Rebecca's back, her legs around Rebecca's shoulders, her hands holding on to Rebecca's waist.
More racing around the house ensued.
We had no idea what was happening, but in a way it was fun, kind of like watching some bizarre sporting event. It wasn't exactly like fireworks at dusk at the beach, but something felt celebratory about it. Perhaps because it was different.
We liked different.
Well, except for Petal, who'd never really liked different and certainly wasn't liking it any better right now.
"This is all very entertaining," Annie said when Rebecca had ceased her racing once more. "Well, probably not for Petal," she added. "But might it be possible for one to ask just what exactly are you supposed to be doing?"
But Rebecca ignored her and turned to Pete.
"Do you still have those cement blocks you used to prop the Hummer up?" she asked him.
Pete nodded.
"Can you bring them out here and set them up on the lawn?"
"I suppose I can do that," Pete said thoughtfully, "but wha t—"
"You only need two," Rebecca said, cutting him off, "not all four. The requirement is only two dry obstacles."
Dry obstacles?
"Now," Rebecca said,
"Yes, I would," Durinda grumbled back, "but that's because Zinnia is sweet while you're..."
"Yes, I do know exactly what I am," Rebecca said, filling the void left by Durinda's unfinished sentence.
"Just for the record," Zinnia piped up, "I'd never ask for a glass of pulp."
"We all know that," Annie said.
"And if I did go crazy and ask for one," Zinnia went on, "I'd still have enough sanity left to also say please and thank you . Those are, after all, the magic words."
"We know that too," Annie said.
"You people make me crazier than I already am," Rebecca said, trudging off to the kitchen.
"I hope Petal's still alive," Jackie said.
"Do you see the way her little chest is heaving up and down?" Marcia observed. "I think that means she must be."
"Phew," Georgia said, "that's a relief."
We all turned to Georgia. When had she ever cared about Petal?
"What?" Georgia stared back at us, surprised and offended. "Where would I be without Petal? Why, without Petal, there'd be no one for me to call 'you little idiot.' I'd be devastated."
Of course.
Rebecca came back from the kitchen, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. A glass of raw eggs, a glass of pulp, a glass of orange-tinted battery acid—really, at this point it was anyone's guess what she'd been drinking in there.
"Well, I'm off again," she announced heartily. Then she paused, considering. "I wonder if Petal's up to continuing now..."
"That's nice of you to worry about Petal for once—" Annie started.
"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm worrying about her," Rebecca corrected, "just wondering."
"Whatever the verb," Annie said, "I am curious: just what are you doing with—or perhaps I should say to —Petal out there?"
Rebecca shrugged. "If you're so curious, why don't you come watch? It's a free country, after all. Isn't that what this day is all about?"
***
We all, including the Petes, followed Rebecca out to the front yard.
"Are you ready for more?" Rebecca asked Petal, grabbing Petal's hands and pulling her to her feet.
"I don't think—" Petal started to say, but Rebecca just tossed Petal over her shoulder and began racing around the house with her.
"That's what you call the fireman's carry," Rebecca informed us after a few laps. "Come on now, Petal, position yourself for the piggyback."
"I don't think—" Petal started to say.
Before we knew it, Rebecca was racing around the house some more with Petal clinging to her back for dear life. We knew then where the term piggyback had originally come from, because poor Petal was squealing like a pig.
"Okay," Rebecca said when she'd finished a few laps of that version. "Now, Petal, remember how to do Estonian style?"
Estonian style? What was going on here?
"I don't think—" Petal started to say.
In a moment, Petal was hanging upside down on Rebecca's back, her legs around Rebecca's shoulders, her hands holding on to Rebecca's waist.
More racing around the house ensued.
We had no idea what was happening, but in a way it was fun, kind of like watching some bizarre sporting event. It wasn't exactly like fireworks at dusk at the beach, but something felt celebratory about it. Perhaps because it was different.
We liked different.
Well, except for Petal, who'd never really liked different and certainly wasn't liking it any better right now.
"This is all very entertaining," Annie said when Rebecca had ceased her racing once more. "Well, probably not for Petal," she added. "But might it be possible for one to ask just what exactly are you supposed to be doing?"
But Rebecca ignored her and turned to Pete.
"Do you still have those cement blocks you used to prop the Hummer up?" she asked him.
Pete nodded.
"Can you bring them out here and set them up on the lawn?"
"I suppose I can do that," Pete said thoughtfully, "but wha t—"
"You only need two," Rebecca said, cutting him off, "not all four. The requirement is only two dry obstacles."
Dry obstacles?
"Now," Rebecca said,
Similar Books
The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins
Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing
