Grumpy Fish

We sleep. We have to. Though inevitable, I resent the time wasted. In fighting off the midday drag of exhaustion following a restless night, my adrenaline kicked in on seeing a giant brown bee. I mean GIANT. This guy was easily two inches. Then, I remembered my dad saying, “god gave bees wings so they wouldn’t bump their butts on the ground.” I think god’s work is mercurial like that. All the order in nature occurs through a series of random and chaotic events. In the course of living we try to string together chaos to make meaning from improbable sets of wings.

This story's the bees-knees, wings and all. Cally’s Tang Su Do class had a year-end party. She said it wasn’t fun—that everyone in the class was from Woodstock Elementary (not her school) and she felt left out of their conversations. Then, she told us that when she tried to play ball with a group, this kid named Leo said, “pass the ball, fatso.” She told us she emphatically told him, “don’t call me that!” but that it got worse because another kid named Ben chimed in response, “what's wrong fatso?” Cally told me some of this story the day it happened. I told her then that as she was doing Tang Su Do for fun, she ought to tell Marilyn (the teacher) that being called names was not fun for her. I told her that I could tell Marilyn myself, but that I thought she would feel more relieved if she stood up for herself. She brought it up again in the car with Killian, Pops and me on the way to the movies. Killian was outraged. First he asked, “is something wrong with him, you know, mentally? Because you’re not at all fat, so he has to be a little wrong in the head.” Cally, laughed, saying, “no, he’s kind of normal, maybe even smart.” “Well, then. I’m going to kick his ass, the little turd face!” – said the boy who can barely walk, or talk and at this point weighs as much as a wet hen. Cally was glowing as they laughed together in the back seat, plotting the torture and destruction of Leo. At some point, I was pleased to hear Cally say that she would prefer from a practical standpoint to speak up for herself rather than Killian "kicking Leo's ass."

As we arrived at the theatre, who was in line buying tickets to the same movie? Leo. Cally pointed he and his family out as they stared at Killian (not an uncommon occurrence for our public outings). Killian, bandaged, shuffling—a dramatic sight regardless—fixed a glare so deadly at Leo that he cowered at his unwitting father’s side. I told Killian, “stop that,” in mom voice. It’s ironic when you use mom-voice on the outside because it’s the right thing to do, but on the inside you’re laughing maniacally like a five year old who just got away with something naughty but delicious.