Unfair-Chapter 66: In Search Of Silver Bullets (Patreon)
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Chapter 66: In Search of Silver Bullets
As a general rule, I donât believe in karma; not the pop-culture version, anyhow. I donât believe that people who do good in the world are rewarded so that despite their suffering theyâll see a net positive and that people who do bad are punished despite their prosperity so that theyâll experience a net negative. The world wouldnât be like it is if that were the case. I donât think thereâs a balancing force to the universe that puts people where they need or deserve to be; not in this life, anyways.
Standing there in the OT/PT Therapy Room naked save for a clean diaper; alone save for Maxine Winters; I believed in one thing: Amazons talked to each other. The double whammy my crew and I had pulled on Skinner and Sosa had made its way to the Physical Therapist through the usual watercooler gossip chain. âI think Iâm going to work with Clark one-on-one today,â sheâd said cheerily enough.
Damn. No chance to be a âbad influenceâ. No big deal. I could present my findings on the best ways to mess with Winters to the others at the old oak tree on the playground. Beouf and company could only keep me from the other Leaguers for so long. Notes could be passed. Secrets could be whispered. Even broken Littles like Ivy and nearly totalled headcases like Sandra Lynn and Tommy unconsciously observed an âUs and Themâ mentality.
An extra wrinkle was thrown in when Winters started undressing me the moment the door was closed behind us. The world turned neon green when she yanked my shirt up over my head. My arms were all caught up in the sleeves when she yanked down my shorts. âWhy are you-?â
Shoes and socks went off, shorts followed. I finished taking off my shirt and was given a âgood job!â for my troubles.
âYou could have given me a little warning, Maxine.â I muttered, searching for even a tiny glint of that outrage Iâd seen when I invoked Sosaâs first name. Not so much as a twinkle of anger. So much for that being her weakness. Internally, I sighed. If life had meant for it to be easy for me, Iâd have been born taller. The dig had been worth a shot.
âSorry Clark,â she said. âWeâre going to do some crawling today and I didnât want you to get your nice clothes all dirty.â She put my clothes on the same chair that Sosa had occupied before.
Bullshit. There was nothing inherently âniceâ about a neon green toddler t-shirt and shiny black soccer shorts with an elastic waistband. Almost all clothing that Amazons made with Littles in mind was meant to be crawled and rolled around in. The floor might have a dust bunny or two, but the custodial staff did itâs job. Eat off it? No. Crawl around for a couple of minutes? Sure. Winters just wanted to see me in my diaper.
Whether by Janet, Beouf, Zoge, or just intuition from the baby shower, Winters knew how I felt about being seen in my plastic backed padding. The joke was on her: Amazons saw my diaper all the time. I had become all but numb to it. The icy cold grip of paralyzing fear and embarrassment only came over me when a friend or an actual child saw me in that state. I no longer had any Amazon friends.
My skin was pale, and no hint of blush anywhere on it. âAlright,â I said. âSo what are we gonna do?â
âWeâre gonna practice reciprocal crawling.â I was about to try and pick apart her rationale in some form or another when she preempted me. âCrawling can strengthen your shoulders, arms, and back, and makes your wrists, fingers, and ankles more flexible.â Damn. She beat me to it.
Sheâd said this kind of schpiel to I-donât-know how many Amazon parents at I.E.P. meetings when either she or Sosa brought up crawling. âShifting between crawling and sitting works your core, abdominal muscles, and hips, and is good for posture,â she kept on prattling. âAnd learning to shift your focus from the floor to other objects in the room is good for visual tracking and hand eye coordination and rocking on all fours is an excellent source of sensory stimulation for some.â
I lightly chewed on my bottom lip. On some level, I appreciated that she was at least talking somewhat clinically to me. On the other hand, like so many other Typical Amazon scenarios, she was using real science to mask a completely different goal. She just wanted me to get used to crawling around on the floor.
âThatâs why weâre gonna work on crawling. And I promise,â she smiled at me. âYouâll be able to do it.â So much for that respect. Sosa and Winters communicating after hours: confirmed.
Winters indicated the rest of the space. âWeâre going to do a kind of hide and seek scavenger hunt. Iâve hidden rubber ducks all around the room in different nooks and crannies. Find them all and youâll get a special prize.â
I did a quick scan. Under a low table where my preschoolers no doubt used to do cut and paste activities with Sosa , I saw a tiny yellow rubber duck that would fit neatly into the palm of my hand. Like an egg hunt, a few were always in the open; chum in the water to entice the kiddies to find the rest. âHow many ducks?â
âTen.â
I chewed on my lip some more. âAny of them hidden? Ballpit? Drawers?â
âOf course theyâre hidden,â Winters said, kindly enough. âBut nothing is in a spot where you canât reach or where youâre not allowed. I donât want you to get in trouble.â That made one of us.
This could still have been another bit of gaslighting, I thought. âKeep looking baby Clark, youâll find that tenth duckyâ, when really there were only nine but meanwhile Iâd been forced to crawl on the carpet for close to half an hour.
âWhat if I donât find them?â I asked, looking up at Sosa.
Sosa looked back down at me. âI think youâll find them. Most Littles are good at this game.â
âBut what if I donât?â Amazons were like stage magicians. What they didnât say was often just as important as what they did. âWill you show me where you hid them if I run out of time?â
Winters chuckled. âYouâll be fine, Clark.â I stared at her, unblinking and resolute. âOkay.â she sighed. âYes. Iâll show you if you canât find them. No giving up, though. Most Littles are really good at this game.â
âLike Ivy?â I prodded.
âLike your friend, Chaz.â
Accidentally, I scowled. Obviously, Chaz was good at this game. When Amazons fuck up your equilibrium to the point where crawling is your only option, you get good at seeing the world from a crawlerâs eye view. If Chaz was getting good at this game, it was a bad thing for him.
I pushed that bit of contempt for my youngest pupil back into my subconscious, and looked for any other loopholes that might be exploited. âDo I have to carry them all at once?â I pictured myself having to drag around half a dozen baby duck toys in the crook of one arm, constantly dropping them.
The therapist pointed to a bright yellow plastic bucket. âNope. When you find a duck, you just drop it in there and keep looking for more.â
Damn.
For what it was, this seemed fair. Too fair. I had to be missing something. There had to be something to entice me or frustrate me or desensitize me so that crawling seemed like a better or more natural habit than it was. âWhat happens if I cheat?â I asked. âLike what happens if I get up and walk or something?â
âNo prize,â Winters said simply.
âYou donât put the ducks back or in new hiding places so I have to start all over again?â That seemed like a good way to keep me on the floor.
Like a horse, Wintersâs lips flapped, pushing air through them in an almost laugh. âNope. Iâll just give you another chance or find something else for you to do. Simple as that. Iâm not gonna crawl around to hide them all over again because youâre feeling cheeky, mister.â
Sheâd definitely been talking to Sosa.
Heh.
Maxine Winters crawling around on the floor. Thereâs something I wouldâve liked to see. Something that if it was brought attention to in the right way, might suitably get under her skin.
Yeah⊠maybe...could be fun.
ââRecyclical crawling?â I purposely mispronounced the word and put on my best âconfused kidâ face. âWussat?â
âJust a fancy word for crawling and taking turns with your arms and legs,â she explained. âLeft leg, right arm, right leg, left arm. That kind of thing.â
I dropped to my hands and knees. âLike this?â I pretended to ask. I pushed my arms ahead and then hop-dragged my feet behind me. I moved like a cross between a slug and a chimp. This was on purpose.
âNo no no,â Winters told me. âYouâve got to alternate.â
âAltercate?â
âAlternate. Take turns with your hands and legs. Hand turn. Leg turn. Hand turn. Leg turn.â
I did the exact same thing that I had done before. I looked like a gorilla with two bum legs. Now though, I parroted her oversimplified explanation. âHand turn. Leg turn. Hand turn. Leg turn.â To some people, there is nothing more frustrating than trying to teach or explain something and getting the sense that the other person just isnât getting it. Iâm one of those people. So was Winters. We can smell our own. Itâs how I knew sheâd be an easy crack. The lack of other Littles around made pride a non-factor.
It was a good thing that the movement allowed me to have my back turned or my head down. If not, Winters might have seen the damn near maniacal grin that was peeking through my facade.
âNo, kiddo, not like that. You have to move your arms and legs one at a time.â She didnât even notice it, not consciously, but she was already coming closer to the ground. Closer to my level.
âOne at a time? One? At? A? Time?â Again. I did the exact same thing, only now I did it with an incredible deliberate slowness. âOne. At. A. Time.â Maxine was on her knees and looking at me the way a mechanic might look at a smoking jalopy.
I kept my face blank and did my best to imitate the same kind of passive innocence that so many actual children did when they were trying to be a brat and get away with it. The difference between brattiness and jackassery is chronological age. I was too old to be a brat; didnât mean I wasnât having fun acting like a jackass.
An electronic ping from her pocket seemed to stir something in her brain. âIf Miss Sosa was here, we could work your arms and legs together. Show you kinestheticallyâ Her eyes wandered over to the door. âMaybe I could borrow Miss TracyâŠâ
Shit! She wasnât taking the bait! Course correct! Course correct! âCan you show me what Iâm doing wrong? Mrs. B says Iâm more of a visual learner.â The inside of my tongue tasted like turned milk just from saying it. âPlease?â
Another ping from her pocket. âGood idea.â Wow. âPleaseâ really was a magic word. She got down to her knees and took a few shuffling scoots up beside me. Funny how she didnât have to strip down to her granny panties and show off her pasty white skin and big butt.
âWatch me closely.â She got another ping, and wrinkled her nose. She got back up to her knees long enough to reach into her pocket and look at the phone. âNot now,â she muttered, sounding irritated.
Stupidly; carelessly; oh so fucking typically; she placed the phone on the edge of the ballpit and my eyes dilated like a junkie who had just seen his next fix. Iâd already gotten her down on her hands and knees. I was just a few precious seconds away from getting her to crawl. What if...just what if...I could film it?
Okay. No. That was a stupid idea. A power fantasy within a power fantasy. I didnât have my crew there to run interference and there was no way that I was fast enough to snatch it, figure out her password, film her crawling around on the ground like a six month old, and then post it anywhere meaningful. She was literally just doing her job; itâs not like she couldnât explain. Iâd just be the ânaughty babyâ that played with the camera. I was going to be the ânaughty babyâ no matter what. The real question was how could I make it hurt.
Her willingness to humor me was a weakness. How to exploit it? âIâm gonna stand upâŠâ I said. âSo I can get a better look.â
âThatâs fair,â Winters said. âYou watching, bud?â
I nodded. âMmmhmmmâŠâ
Winters started properly crawling, slowly and deliberately, one limb then the other, like a dinosaur that was so heavy it had to keep three feet down to support its weight. I inched over to the ballpit. I didnât know what I was going to do with the phone, but Iâd figure something out. âWhen I say âreciprocal crawlingâ, I mean this type of crawling. Normal everyday crawling.â Notice how she didnât say âlike a babyâ? She didnât want me to make that connection, knowing that Iâd resist. It really is all about what they donât say...
âOooooh,â I said. âCrawling! Regular good old fashioned crawling!â I slapped my forehead. âDuh! Do I have to do it that slow?â
The therapist rotated into a seating position. âNo, sir. You can go as fast or as slow as youâre comfortable with and at your own pace.â Sir. Huh. Even then, hearing it felt kind of good. She was willing to participate too. In a lot of ways, Wintersâs act was what Sosa and Skinner had been trying to achieve.
âSo what am I supposed to do?â I stalled. âExactly?â
The lady started to roll back over. âYouâre supposed toâŠâ she stopped and went back to facing me in a seated position. âYouâre trolling me, arenât you?â
âKindaâŠâ
âYou knew exactly what I was talking about all along.â
I took a step back, towards her phone. My lips retreated inside my mouth. âMaybeâŠâ
âYouâre trying to trick me into doing all the hard work for you.â
A nervous giggle from me âNoâŠ?â
âClarkâŠâ
Coyly, I shrugged. âOkay. Ya got me.â
She laughed through her nose. âThey said youâd been acting up and getting tricksy.â
Was I surprised that Maxine Winters had talked to Chandra Skinner or Jasmine Sosa, or Beouf? No, not at all. Was I relieved that even now my acts of malice were being written off as childish pranks? For once, yes, absolutely. Sometimes the difference between crazy and stupid is a degree of success. So I was going to let her be stupid and assume the best of me instead of antagonizing her directly and driving her crazy right away.
âCan you show me?â I faux begged. âJust once?â I pinched my thumb and forefinger together and inched closer back towards the pit. âWith the duck under the table right there?â
Good naturedly, Winters rolled her eyes. âFine. Points for cunning.â She rolled over onto all fours and crawled to the most obvious duck sheâd hidden. âYou crawl over. Like this.â I had my back up against the ballpit. âYou grab the ducky, like this.â She palmed the toy.
âDo they squeak?â
âNo,â she said. âButâŠâ She crawled over to the bucket. âWhen you drop it in the bucket, this happens.â
DING!
My world started spinning in the best way possible. âHeeeeeee!â What a rush! It was like the jingling wrist rattle Renner had tried to pawn off on me, or the one given in stuffed animals in the courthouse, or the music from Sosaâs puzzle boxes, but on steroids. I stumbled back and accidentally knocked the cell phone into the ballpit. It was like getting tickled and spun around all at the same time. For all of half a second my guard came down and I felt positively fucking giddy despite myself.
âThereâs a false bottom and a sensor,â she explained. âWhen you add weight to it, it makes a happy little ringing noise.â I picked myself back up to my feet. âYou like that, huh?â
âYeahâŠ.â I gasped. âWait. NO!â
DING!
I didnât have time to catch my breath before she dropped it in again. The world started spinning and I couldnât help but laugh as I crumbled down to my knees and lowered to my hands to keep balance long enough for the world to stop spinning.
Panting like Iâd just survived a seven story drop, I felt my bladder empty into the front of my diaper. The unnatural combination of adrenaline, pleasure, and disorientation rocketing from zero to sixty had been enough to where Iâd had an accident. A real one, too. Damn. I was planning to keep dry until at least after lunch to see if I could with all of the bottle feedings and juice breaks.
A new realization hit me. Chaz had been good at this game. Maybe too good. There was a reason he was the only crawler in class. Amy might have been good at it too. MistuhGwiffun talked about this stuff and the drunken pleasurable sensation, but maybe there were long term side effects from too much use. In the back of my mind, I realized how this could be addictive; up until the point where there was literally no walking away from it.
Poor Chaz.
âClark?â Winters cut in as I caught my breath. âYou okay, baby?â I was inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth to get it together. I stood up. âDid you wet your diaper?â Damn. No pants to hide the sudden swell or the sag, or the slight off-white discoloration. âDo you want me to take you back to your class for a change?â
Inwardly I was fuming. Another no-win question being added to the pile of my life. Iâd either be a compliant âgood babyâ and paraded around in just my wet diaper, or give them an excuse to say that I was comfortable in my wet Monkeez. âNo,â I huffed. âIâm okay. Iâll get changed. After this.â My decision came down to the phone and the opportunities it might yet provide. No chance Iâd get changed, brought back, and get a chance to fuck with Wintersâs phone. Sheâd miss having it.
âAre you sure?â
âYeah.â
âAlrighty then. Get crawlinâ, buddy.â Wasting no time, I swung my leg over the side and tumbled into the ballpit, clattering around as rainbow hued globules buried on top of me. âClark? What are you doing?â
âLooking for the duck you might have hid!â I called back. I twisted myself and groped around until my hand clasped on the bulky rectangular device.
âWhy would I put a ducky in there if it wasnât some place I thought you could reach by crawling?â
I looked at the screen. Score of scores! Sheâd forgotten to lock it! âUm...this is our first session together? Maybe you didnât know where I could and couldnât crawl yet?â She had a new text message.
âClark,â her voice took on a playful warning tone. âAre you stalling and trying to play?â
I opened the text message and skimmed:
<3 Jazzie <3
Just saw the time
realize who youre probably with
nvm
ttyl
<3
Jazzie? With hearts on either side? âClark? Are you stalling?â
Quickly I scrolled back and saw:
<3 Jazzie <3
- Eggs
- Kale
- Celery
- Waffle Mix
- Toilet Paper
- Dog food
- Bird seed
- Bloody Mary Mix
The biggest dumbest grin planted itself on my mug. I was not the worldâs greatest detective. I didnât need to be to figure out that Sosa and Winters were more than just co-workers, or that there was more than one reason Sosa bristled at being called âJazzieâ. Holy shit, this was a potential goldmine!
âClark?â
âHuh?â Crap. Iâd gotten distracted. âUh..maybe.â
I heard Winters huff. âFine, but only because Iâm in a good mood. Two minutes, then youâre back out and finding the other ducks for me. No more stalling.â
âYes maâam.â I wanted to giggle. I wanted to cackle. Probably could have and gotten away with it. As far as she knew I was getting away with something, too. But I had to work quickly. It might not take two minutes for her to miss her phone.
I started scrolling through to see if there was anything I could use. Dirty talk or pictures to forward somewhere scandalous. Anything embarrassing. Anything at all. Nothing at first glance. What I did find was:
<3 Jazzie <3
Gotta take my phone to the shop
Screen cracked
Iâll get everything but the pet food.
Sorry babe. Howâd that happen?
CG
Will tell you more when i get home
Why???
Ah. That makes sense.
What?
The food!!
We are not getting a bird.
Come on
You take care of the dog ill take care of the bird
Weâll talk about this at home.
Trouble in paradise! Nice! What to do with this, though? I could taunt her about it? âHa-ha! You work with your girlfriend! Aaaand youâre arguing! Jazzie and Maxie sitting in a treeâŠâ
Nah.
I could send an interesting text. A âfuck you bitchâ or a less vulgar âI told you not to bother me at workâ. Perhaps an anxiety inducing âWe need to talkâ. That probably wouldnât work either. Any strife I might sew with a random texts could easily be written off with âOh, the baby got a hold of itâ.
Damn. What was I supposed to do with this gorgeous bit of gossip and how could I use it? Sosa and Winters were dating, living together even. Maybe married and just kept their last names. More importantly, they were having some kind of tiff. How to exploit that? What could I say to turn that against them?
The sad truth was, that I couldnât turn that against them. Me and Cassie had our share of fights, but any attack on her would have been like an attack on me, no matter how much weâd fought the night before. Love was funny like that. Sometimes Love is ânever having to say youâre sorryâ. Other times, itâs ânobody fucks with her but-â
I had an idea. Iâd been searching for silver bullets to use against Winters. What Iâd found, instead, was a cache of golden landmines. Time for me to lay some.
I popped my head up above the ballpit. Winters was turned ninety degrees and staring at the second hand of the nearby clock. Softly, I put the phone back on the very edge. âOkay. Bored now.â
âItâs not even two minutes.â Winters turned and looked at me.
I swung my leg over and allowed myself to tumble back out onto the floor. âI know. Bored now. Letâs look for ducks.â
She brightened. âWell, alright then!â
I started crawling around on the floor, playing two games at once. The first game was finding ducks, the game my ex-colleague wanted me to play. The second game was waiting long enough to plant a few ideas and not have it seem suspicious.
One-Mississippi.
Two-Mississippi
The heck was a âMissississippiâ anyways? Some long forgotten unit of time that just fit the meter, no doubt. It turned out I was closer than I thought by diving into the ballpit. One of the ducks had been artfully placed on the other side.
âGood job!â Winters clapped lightly as I crawled back around to the yellow bucket. I crawled to the bucket and gently, very gently, lowered the rubber duck down into the bottom next to its twin.
DING!
âHAAAAAAAA!â I rolled over on my back, wanting to claw my eyes out to stop from grinning. Two seconds later, I was back on all fours. I rocked back and forth slightly, testing my balance. I wasnât going to be a crawler by the end of this, but smokers didnât develop emphysema after just one pack. Better to avoid it altogether.
âKeep going. Thatâs two.â
Thirty-four-Mississippi.
Thirty-five-Mississippi.
Grumbling, I started going for the one underneath the platform swing. I doubled back to the bucket. I reached to the rim and tilted it over. I held my breath waiting for Winters to right it or instruct me to. She merely observed. Slowly, I put the duck down on the side.
Nothing. No dings. No complaints. Thank goodness.
I pretended that I didnât see the one underneath the trampoline until I got to a Hundred-Mississippi. That was about as long as I was willing to wait. âMiss Winters?â
âYes?â
âWhatâs a good way to get what you want?â
âI think Iâd start with saying things like âpleaseâ and âthank youâ.â
Typical. âYeah,â I said. âBut what if you really really want something, and they wonât let you have it?â
âGrown-Ups know whatâs best,â Winters said. âSo if your Mommyâs not giving you something you want, thereâs probably a good reason for it.â
Not quite there yet. âI know, butâŠâ
âBut what?â
âIâm not thinking about my Janet...I mean my Mommy.â I wasnât thinking about Janet at all, but a good way to sell a lie is to use the targetâs expectations against them. Amazons werenât the only magicians.
Predictably, Winters countered that with. âSame goes for Mrs. B, kiddo.â
âNot talking about her either,â I said.
âAny Grown-Up.â
I shifted onto my diaper and did my best to ignore the wet squish just barely under my butt. âLike what if itâs not a Grown-Up though?â I clarified. âOr like, someone whoâs just as much of a Grown-Up as you are?â
Take the hint, Winters. Take the hint!
âLike a friend?â she asked.
âYeahâ I pretended to be lost in thought for a moment, when I was really just thinking about anything other than the text Iâd just seen.
âThen youâd have to talk with your friend and try to convince them to give you what you want.â
âWhat if they wonât listen to me?â I asked.
âThen I guess you donât get what you want.â
My frown was a toddler's pantomime. âHow is that fair?â
âLife isnât fair, bud.â More to herself she added. âEspecially for Grown-UpsâŠâ
âYeah?â My crawling back to the bucket gave me more proximity to her. âHow is life not fair for Grown-Ups?â I plopped the duck in the tipped over bucket and saw a companion in the shade of the platform swing. Then I noticed that a waste basket wasnât quite straight. âI was a Grown-Up. Seemed pretty fair then. Now I gotta beg and beg and beg just to get a good stuffie from one of the other kids at Janetâs...I mean MommyâsâŠ.Little Voices meeting.â A gamble, perhaps, but half-truths of where Iâd been and what Iâd done were meant to put her mind at ease.
âDo you have a Grown-Up who can come help you work things out between you and your Little friend?â She thought she was setting me up for a one-two punch. Quite the opposite by my counting.
âYeahâŠ?â
âGrown-Ups donât have that.â
I took the duck from beneath the trash can. âOh...good point.â I doubled back and made sure she hadnât put one inside the can either. She had. Clever. âSo what do you do?â
âAre you stalling again?â
Two ducks made their way to their resting place without setting off the bell.. âNo. See?â
âGood. Keep going.â
âWhat do Grown-Ups even argue about?â I did my best to sound mildly curious, but not wholly interested. Had I been any other size and not dressed as I was, such a question would seem absurd concerning my age. Feeding into her crazy was greasing the wheels I hoped, and getting her to let her guard down. I was already moving, playing two games at once. Of course sheâd hidden a duck under the desk.
Tiredly, the PT sighed. âLots of things.â
I was an adult trying to sound like a child trying to sound like an adult. Had to reel her in without looking like I was doing it. âLike what kind of paint to get at the paint store or something?â
âLike... pets.â
YES! Jackpot! Duck number seven joined the flock and I felt the kind of giddiness that I could conceal. âPets?â
âYes. Keep looking.â
I started crawling aimlessly. It was mattering less and less if I found those last three props. âI like pets. Whatâs there to argue about pets?â
Even from as far away as I was I could practically hear the annoyed exhale blow out from Wintersâs nostrils. âIâve got a friend who wants to get a pet bird.â
âWhat kind of bird?â I asked.
âA Rocaw.â
âThatâs a type of parrot, right?â
âRight.â
Iâm not sure how a three foot green feathered monstrosity that could bite off the hand of a Little was in the same ballpark as a parrot, but to most Amazons I was in the same ballpark as a child not yet ready for potty training. âI used to have a buddy who was a zookeeper. They said that parrots lived a long time and didnât stop screaming. Kinda like big feathery toddlers that you donât get to dress up or take anywhere and they smell funny.â Amyâs random batshit that weekend might just pay dividends. Iâd have to thank her except no I wouldnât.
âYupâŠPretty much.â Winterâs sentences were becoming clipped. Her mouth was drawn into a tight thin line. Just thinking about this was drawing back unpleasant memories of conflicts not yet resolved. And with any luck, they wouldnât be.
I stumbled into duck number eight in the corner where I should have seen it earlier. âSo just donât get it. Right?â
âItâs more complicated than that.â
âHow so?â
âBecause my friend thinks they really wants one and I donât.â
I crawled back, deposited it and kept going. âWhy not?â
âBecause my friend wants the bird now, but Iâm going to have to be the one to clean up after it and smell it and listen to its squawks and pick up the food for it when my friend is busy. I just want a Cerbernard.â
I froze and looked up at her. âThe big dog breed? With three heads?â I pretended that dogs big enough for me to saddle and ride were the most exciting things in the world.
âThey donât actually have three heads,â Miss Winters told me. âbut yes.â
âI like dogs.â Not really. Theyâre big slobbery brutes and yappy annoying things that canât be bothered or taught to even poop in a box. But my mark liked dogs, so I liked dogs, too.
âMe too.â Winters nodded. âIf I get a pet, I want one that wonât poop all over the place and isnât squawking all the time.â She looked over by the door.
How about that? Iâd somehow missed rubber duck number nine by the door. Sucker was giving me hints! âAnd if you and your friend canât both get pets because youâre sharing money or something so you have to decide which pet is best?â
âItâs not that. Itâs more complicated.
Of course it was. Even a thirty-two year old child would know that. âLike what?â
âHmm...how to put this?â She fiddled with her fingers and tugged at her ear. âGood things donât cancel out bad things. Even if I got my Cerbernard and my friend got their Rocaw, that wouldnât cancel the things I donât like about having a Rocaw around.â
âOooooh.â I pretended that the lightbulb had just clicked. âItâs like getting two flavors of ice cream in the same bowl and you and your friend gotta eat both of them. Just because they really like their flavor and are okay with your flavor, doesnât mean that you wanna eat their flavor.â
There were several other real life instances in which the good didnât cancel out the bad - for example when financial and physical needs are at the cost of dignity and freedom- but this was better for the character I was portraying.
âExactly,â Winters said. âSo no ice cream for anybody.â
âWhy not just get separate bowls? I mean...donât go over to your friendâs house?â Friendâs house. Yeah. As if I didnât get it. As if a baby couldnât get it.
âMy friend and I..â She stopped herself. âItâs complicated. Letâs just say itâs complicated.â
âAnd you donât have a Grown-Up to help settle it.â
âUnfortunately.â
âThat sucks.â I said.
âIt does.â
I saw my opening. Time to plant my ticking time bomb. âToo bad you canât decide who's more of a Grown-Up.â
My ex-colleague blinked in confusion. âWhat?â
âYou know,â I said nonchalantly. âFigure out whoâs the most mature or the most Grown-Up or whatever. You or your friend? Who makes more money? Or who does the most chores? Or pays more taxes? Grown-Up stuff. Whoâs the boss? Whoâs in charge?â
Amazons: Adults should be mature and speak to each other respectfully and as equals.
Also Amazons: I have more power over you and am going to wield that power like a sledgehammer.
âIt doesnât work like that, sweetie.â
âWhy not?â
âIt...it...huhâŠâ Winters paused, frowned, and then said. âFrom the mouthsâŠâ
Seed planted. Fuse lit. Pick your metaphor. Iâd just primed two people whom Iâd considered decent work buddies for a fight in the near future and at least one of them had no idea that fight was coming. Neither of them would suspect me.
Damn that felt good.
I patted the lump tucked into the right cuff of the Amazonâs pants. âFound it!â Ha! Knew there was a trick there, too!
âGood job!â Winters said. I stood up and applauded with her like Iâd just won something. I had, in a way. âYour knees are looking a little red. Wanna get those shorts back on?â
âSure.â
She snatched up my pile of clothes and started to redress me, starting with popping open the shorts and allowing me to step in. It felt a little weird, Iâll admit, getting the shorts back on and being wet. Muscle and sensory memory almost demanded that I be changed. âShirt too. Good job! Socks and shoes.â
âThank you,â I said.
The giant looked at her phone, completely unaware of everything that had gone on. âStill got some time. Do you want to go back in the ball pit?â
âNo thanks. How about the trampoline?â
Approximately ten minutes later, I was being handed over to Zoge.
âHeâs soaked.â she said. âI donât know how else heâs been for everybody else but he was a perfect angel for me. I even gave him a sticker.â She poked the âGreat Job!â sheâd slapped on my chest. Pretty shitty prize.
The A.L.L. looked at me like Iâd betrayed them and gone over to the dark side. I just winked and put my finger to my lips while Beouf carted me to the bathroom, and they got enough of the hint to be relieved. Iâd share what happened later that afternoon. Maybe not the whole thing. They might blab if they knew Winters and Sosa were âfriendsâ, but I could teach a lesson about quietly stringing along Amazons and playing to their crazy so that they make themselves vulnerable without getting mad.
All in all, an excellent session, Iâd say. Very therapeutic.