Midori finished her bowel movement, and her legs lowered themselves back down as Midori continued to nurse the bottle. She didn’t even seem to notice or mind. Priorities. Once she finished, she rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on all fours, and started crawling around; her not-so-undergarment sagging slightly from the deposit made. It wasn’t until she stopped and sat in her own mess that she seemed to notice anything amiss. When a Judy came to check on her crying, Midori immediately signed “all done,” and “diaper”. Wow. At least someone else was making use out of that baby sign language video.
Two hands lifted Dante up into the air by the armpits complete with a Judy’s “Up we go”. Great, what now? Dante didn’t need changing again (he hoped), and it was too early for dinnertime, so what new embarrassment was he for now?
He found himself being lowered, legs first, into a bizarre contraption. It was round, like a flying saucer and made out of plastic. In the middle of the whole was a suspended seat with two leg holes, kind of like the harnesses that amateur rock climbers wore. Dante’s bare legs were threaded threw the holes, and he found himself in an odd sitting position. It was like he was trying to sit in a very small, folded up hammock. The good news was that his feet could touch the floor.
He tried to stand up, but he wouldn’t budge. He was locked in there good. More likely though, his legs were too weak. He scooted his feet along the carpet and found that the contraption moved forward a few inches. It was on wheels. He was on wheels. Shit!
A baby walker. He had been put in an over-sized baby-walker Frankly, Dante shouldn’t have been surprised, given the circumstances, but he honestly hadn’t thought to see this coming. “Time for walkies!” the Judy cooed from behind him, and gave him a little push to encourage him. The walker puttered a few feet along the floor, and Dante instinctively slammed his feet down to stop it. He stopped!
Dante grinned. Admittedly this was pretty cool. After a whole day of being carried around, or having to crawl, it felt good for Dante to be moving while in a vertical position. Plus, the feeling of the carpet brushing the soles of his feet felt so foreign after an entire day lying on the floor.
Dante tilted his head downward and noticed a yellow plastic steering wheel on the front of the walker. Walkies? Fuck that. If Dante had to pretend, he’d pretend to drive, not to walk. He grinned.
Dante started to shuffle around the play area in the walker, slowly gaining momentum. This was so cool! Dante started to circle the play area, making sure to hug close to the walls. He even started making fake engine noises and screeched as he rounded corners. None of the other kids seemed to be in one, so this must be a special treat just for him.
He swatted the air, and turned on his imaginary radio, singing “East Bound and Down”, as he powered along the carpet. He was Bandit, and Smokey was right on his tail. Ever since he saw that movie, Dante had loved the idea of driving fast cars. As soon as he discovered the ultra-fast punk rock cover of the theme song, Dante had downloaded it to his iPod and blasted it in his car whenever he felt the need for a surge of adrenaline or had to work up the nerve to floor it. All of these memories got his blood pumping something fierce.
He felt so alive, so free! Maybe cars were his anchor, or adrenaline. Dante caught Lysa staring at him. Her face told the story of a political spin-doctor who’s job was just getting harder with everything her candidate said. Dante pulled up to Lysa in his new hot-rod, even going so far as to “screech” as he came to a stop. Lysa looked mortified. Jamal Adams, looked like he had just hit the mother load.
“So he’s not even close to the threshold yet, is he?” Jamal mocked. Lysa glared at him. “What? Did he die in a car crash and is having flashbacks? Did the brain damage carry over?” The sumbitch was mocking him to his face. Dante started getting red in the face.
“Oh wussamatter baby boy?” Jamal egged on, “You gonna cwy for Mama Judy to come and make the big bully weave you awone? Maybe when she’s done, she can sit you on the potty if you sign real nice to her like a good boy!” Who the hell did this guy. Was he actually calling him a baby for trying to use the potty?” The fuck?!
“Hey Lysa,” Jamal chortled, “After Dori fell through, I figured you wanted another friend, not another idiot.” Lysa said nothing, just growled under his throat. “What, is that maternal instinct finally kicking in, girl?!” the jackass howled. “Hey, do you think if enough of your friends crash and burn, the Judy’s will let you help change them?!” Murder was in Lysa’s eyes. Time for Dante to intervene.
Dante had actually met jackasses like this while he had been alive. No amount of logic or witty quips would shut them up. Either they were too clever and lob another insult back in your face, or too stupid and weren’t affected by your comeback.
There were only two ways to get through to these types: Either show you were more mature and walk away, clearly unaffected by their verbal barbs, or show them that you were just crazy enough to make them want to think twice. Dante was in no mood today to be mature about this.
Dante powered forward and angled the walker so that one of the wheels came directly leaned in hard. At least 180 pounds of flesh and bone plus what easily could have been another 50 given the size and materials of the walker, laid into Jamal’s left foot. Physics might take a backseat to kisses in this place, but apparently the rule of “a lot of weight, focused on one tiny spot hurts like a bitch” still applied.
Jamal’s foot immediately began to swell, his eyes watered, and his mouth opened. “Go on, and cry.” Dante spoke up, “Have the Judy’s kiss it and make it better. Bet that will make you feel like a man.” Jamal’s jaw clenched shut at that.
“If this were a movie, this would be the part where I finish you off with a witty remark, but you’re not worth the effort. Fuck you, dude. Fuck you.” Dante looked over at Lysa, just as shocked as her adversary. She opened her mouth to say something. Then closed it. Then twisted her mouth this way and that. Finally, she shrugged, and smiled.
“Thank you, Dante.” she finally said, before giving Jamal a “I told you so” look.
” Welcome, Lysa.” Dante replied with a shit eating grin before making his walker motor off without looking back. The imaginary soundtrack in his mind started blaring “I don’t give a damn about my reputation,” as he silently pumped his fists in victory. Damn that felt good! Redemption.
Going around in his pretend car, Dante was possessed by a flash of inspiration. Knuckles white at the plastic steering wheel, Dante zoomed forward as fast as his inept legs would propel him, right toward the nearest wall. This was going to be so awesome! He’d stop just before the crash, with an inch to spare! Even if he crashed, this thing was practically a bumper car. What’s the worst that could happen.
Dante never got to find that answer. He had made it within a foot of the wall before something dragged him to a stop. A Judy, his Judy, had grabbed the backside of the walker and pulled him to a stop with ease. Her look said it all.
“Oh no you don’t, little man.” she scolded as she wrapped an arm around his chest and lifted him out of the contraption. Before he could protest, he felt a hand pop across his behind and he went limp like a puppet with its strings cut. The Judy with blonde hair in the nursery scrubs, carried his mobile form across the room, and strapped him into a giant baby swing.
“Mama Judy knows what you were doing, and you should be ashamed of yourself. What if you had hurt someone running around so fast. What if you had hurt yourself, crashing into that wall? Mama Judy would have felt terrible knowing you were hurt. If you can’t be safe, you’re going to have to sit in time out. Now you just sit here and think about what you’ve done.” Then she turned on her heel and walked back to check on the rest of the baby prisoners.
Where did that monster get off on calling herself his “Mama?” His real mother never talked to him like that. In fact, he was pretty sure his parents were anti-spanking. They had never treated him half as inferior as these things did. He was practically their equal. They cared about him too, they had bought him things.
They had bought him his car, all his clothes, not to mention the awesome party…granted, that part didn’t end well, but it was the thought that counted. He was practically the center of his parents life, and they showered him with affection and gifts to prove it.
Hell, he was pretty sure his dad had been grooming him to work in the restaurants and one day take over the family business. His old man never told him such out loud, but he had seemed happiest that summer when Dante was bussing tables and spending more time in the restaurant. His dad even had showed him how to balance the books, check the inventory, and even cook a little too.
“Your mother fell in love with me because I could cook,” his dad had told him that hot summer night. “Learning this stuff was the best decision I ever made.”
His mother had always been the steady one, the one to bail him out when he got in over his head, not just with money either. She had spent countless nights staying up and studying with him till he was ready to drop. First it was spelling tests in elementary school, then it was algebra in middle school, and helping him edit term papers and book reports in high school. He never would have gotten into his AP classes junior and senior year if she hadn’t pushed him.
Dante even remembered an argument one summer where she had put her foot down and insisted he take the honors courses, instead of the easy ones. “You won’t be challenged there.” she insisted. “You need a challenge if you’re ever going to develop into a worthwhile human being and not some lazy lay about.” In hindsight, he had been grateful for it, but he hadn’t ever told her as much. Right now, he wished he had.
With them out of the picture, he wouldn’t get anything except stuffed animals and stupid baby toys.
That’s when it hit him: An epiphany. Holy shit! He had been dead for the better part of the day, and hadn’t even once been worried about his parents. Did they know yet? Had news of his death reached their ears? How would they handle it? He was their only child, and the one time they had left him alone so they could enjoy themselves, he had fucked it up and died on them. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!
Now their anniversary would forever be associated in their minds with his death. He hadn’t even considered their anniversary as anything other than a ploy to get him that party, and now he had ruined it for the rest of their lives. How long would that be?
What about the neighbors? What would the community think? Once the story got out, and oh it would get out, how would his parents be looked upon? Would they get labeled as “abusive” or “neglectful” parents? Would they be taken to court, or scandalized in the news, or sent to prison? It was all over, once an autopsy showed how much drugs were in his system and the cops found all of the pill bottles and the note. His selfishness and lack of forethought had ended his own life, and ruined theirs.
