My whole family was
already out and I needed to hurry. It was too warm for a jacket,
really, but it drizzled, so I put on the soft felt hat my father had
brought from the Grand Canyon. It was just getting dark outside and a
white van was waiting for me, driven by the lovely tomboy I want. I
chucked my things into the back and joined her in the front.
The cast of Downton Abbey
was discussing things like it does, when a group of young Americans
came near, sat down at a green wooden picnic table by a fence in this
grassy meadow, and unpacked sandwiches, fruit and beverages, and
proceeded to eat and talk amongst themselves. Lord Grantham was
perturbed. He protested and tried to gain their attention -
apparently this table and this ground belonged to Downton Abbey
premises - and I turned my attention to the direction the Americans
had come from. Sure enough, I saw a bunch of white horses fenced in
by blue bands, and a dog trying to play with them, which freaked them
out. They chased him away and then two ran for the fence-bands,
turning a handsome rich dark brown as they jumped the band, and
turning into a couple of cartoonish cows. They jumped several of
these blue bands and I watched them gallop and jump, gallop, gallop,
and jump ... When they had jumped the last band as flawlessly as the
rest in perfect synchrony, I heard the Grantham family behind me
mentioning something about food shortage.
I went to neighbouring
grounds, where I expected to find the tiny, tiny, gnomishly little
boy who should be about four years old but had the height, though not
the body development, of a baby. He was there and had raided the
neighbour's refrigerator. I could tell he had eaten a lot and he
pointed at stuff in the fridge and went on about how he'd eaten
almost all of the good dumplings. I shooed him forward. At one point
I picked him up and carried him the last few paces to the earth pile
at the end of my garden. It had holes in it, about head sized, and I
asked him twice how exactly it worked for thim and his kind to sleep
in there. I let him down and he dug himself into one of the holes - I
wondered if his foodbroadened frame might give him trouble and get
him stuck in the tunnels - and I peeked into another to see the very
broad to pointy end of a giant worm, which I knew to be the tail of
another boy, protruding glisteningly from the dark. It was still, so
he was probably already asleep.
I turned around and this
morph mix of two girls I want stood in my garden. She wore some kind
of figure skating dress, in red with something sparkly sewed on it.
She performed a neat acrobatic trick and then looked at me. I grinned
and did a backwards somersault. It was her turn and she walked on her
hands, holding her torso and legs up above the grass horizontally(!)
somehow. It was eerie and very impressive. We sort of circled each
other a bit, she gave me bits of information about her, and I smiled
brightly, came closer, and when she lay on her back in the grass
after her latest stunt (wearing regular jeans, t-shirt and button-up
shirt now), I took her hands and kneeled over her, straddling her
waist. She tried to push me away, but not very hard, and I didn't
budge and she finally let me lean in really closely and kiss her. She
kissed back, too, and all the while we were wrapped in a giant
brochure portfolioing all the information about her she'd brought
with her. This was what I kissed and through which she kissed me. It
caught my attention and we studied it a little, because we thought it
would be good for her to see a doctor. Two addresses on her big sheet
didn't match and she explained she'd refreshed one of those earlier.
We moved from the grassy garden ground to the ground floor of my
house, the hallway to be exact, where I learned that she had sung a
song called "When Nothing Else Matters" in a "WSKRIM"
(Women "Skrim" = meaning scream) contest that had been
presided over by a famous band she liked. Several times I saw a
lovely photograph of her on stage with brown, glinting backdrop and
atmosphere, holding the microphone in one hand, tilting her head with
tousled soft short brown hair back with closed eyes, holding the mic
stand in the other ... the photo and its caption changed ever so
slightly each time I saw it. She held an envelope in her hand now and
proceeded to open it. It informed her that she'd won the SKRIM
contest and her joy made her hug me tightly. I was impressed and
proud and wanted to hear her sing.
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