Kintow

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Bbbrrrrrmmmmm. Thunder rolls.
T-t-t, chs-chs-chshh. Rain splatters the window.
Bzz, crshkcrshkrsh. TV static buzzes and crackles.
Clop. Clop. Clop. Mom walks to answer the door.
Heeheeheehahaha! Grandpa laughs childishly at his TV tray of peas and carrot and mashed potatoes with butter.
He plays peeka-boo with the food. He sticks out his tongue and blows - pllllbbbbtttttthh. Saliva sprays and drips.

The supine child's gaze rolls along the white slick ceiling. From there on the floor, it's two or three of her lengths away. Every one of her muscles, except her eyes, relinquishes itself to gravity, sagging into a scruffy carpet the color and dankness of snow on a busy city street, distant as that is. Then her arms and legs sway to their own wild will. She swims by not moving or seeing or hearing...

Thunder crashes. Rain plummets and splashes the ghostly wood and pale vinyl on the idyllic isolated farmhouse, in a greenest dell cut from a deep tall woods.

Mom lets Dad in.

He drips and, "Jesus!"

She's, "Sorry."

He's, "For what?!" Because nature is loud.

"Just," she takes his jacket.

"Ehh..!"

The child stares at them through the foyer doorway. "Hi, Molly! How ya doin'?" He waits two seconds, motionless and staring her way. No response. "Yeah, well, me too."

Heeheeheehahaha! Plbbbttt. Heehah!
Bzztz, Crshkrkrkshh...
Drip, drop, plink, plonk, pshh, pshh, splat, tip, tap.
Kssshhhhh-brrrrrrmmmmm!
Ding dong! The doorbell rings.

Thirty seconds have passed since Dad knocked.

Dad opens the door for a smiling man under a brown cap holding a half-man-sized white cardboard cube with black cow spots printed on it. He sets it down on the wood floor and leaves.

The child begins to swell with interest in the man and his box, but she hides it and turns the other way to super-old, insane Grandpa. Heehah! Peekaboo! Her eyes glaze, and a chill creeps down her spine. Her arms hold her tightly.  Her eyes close. She breathes out deeply and releases her tensions further into the musty carpet.

The child faintly senses everything around her at once. "Half a doze-... Two today?!... Why doesn't it ever-... Then three or four... just... again..." from the foyer.

The food stinks. The carpet emits wide-ranging odors from weeks of weather and walking. The rain is fresh and clean. Grandpa rots. Mom and Dad steam and boil over, grimy, sweet, and sweaty.

There are cowboys chasing Indians and Indians chasing cowboys on the fuzzy, ancient TV. Who knows if they're real or not?
Bing bong! The door-dell brings.

Another thirty seconds have passed. The girl rolls onto her stomach. Her white T-shirt twists and cinches, embracing her lovingly.

The man brings a cow-boxed shape in-too the in-house. It is placed by placing, now a stack of two identical cubes.

He leaves. The child stretches. Her purple shorts bunch up tight, like she likes it.
She turns and rolls and gazes and stares.
Boom! Crash!
Splish! Splatter!
Bzz, crshshkr.
Peeka-boo! Teeheehahahee!
"Five-fifty!?... NO, you DON'T!... Eleven, ten K... I don't eve-..."

She focuses in on one melody of dripping rain. Plip... ploop..plop, plip. Everything else drains away. Beside the bottom of the front porch steps in the grass is a little puddle gathering rain. Two pecan-sized black beetles jump in and paddle around helplessly, but they seem to like it...

Ting Tong! Doordle-ings.

Thirty more seconds've passed.

White box-man sets down another moo-cube on the floor. He goes again.

The afternoon fades as the storm blackens. Life slows to a haze. The girl swims very deep and far. She stretches into another world. From a circle of carpet around her a small sunny-green dome softly gathers upward and cocoons her. Blue spots and white clouds shine at her, tiny and close. She is warm and giddy. She giggles and grins. Her black locks sparkle and splash on her head. Her white skin beams red. Baby-sized black-spotted white cartoon cows prance around her. Mouses click, click.
She slips and slides through windows and Bliss.
Why not?

She hides her fortune. Grandpa stares at her looking serious. ... Plllbbtttthh!... drip. Heeeeeeehaahahhh!...

The girl's insides are exploding. She writhes and quietly squeal-hums. Dad walks in, eyes cast down, "What the hell..?"

"Just ignore her," Mom breezes past to the light-drenched kitchen to do work.

"Whatever floats your boat." He strolls behind Mom, passing Grandpa. Plllllbbbbbtttttttt- "Shaddup! ... Jesus... Damn retard--"

"Hey!!" Mom scowls and cleans. All quickly attend to her, still and waiting.

The girl shrinks into her shivery skin and lies facing straight up. Her eyes feel open and broken. She stares at the ceiling, ignoring the rest. She reluctantly accepts her awareness of her real life.