I go to the gym. I run, and run. Eminem on the cue, ala recent Detroit. After, in the locker room, the kids from the daycare file in for swimming. They have all their clothes bags that go into lockers, onto which they’ve affixed magnets with their names. A little boy named Joe is dressed faster than any of the others get their suits on, and then he takes the magnets down and plays with them. He moves them all onto one locker and makes shapes. His daycare workers notice and they start yelling at him. Not shrieking, but . . .
JOE, what did you DO?
Joe, you need to ASK.
Now we’ll have to open all the lockers.
We don’t know whose clothes are whose. (I notice that Joe’s bag of clothes, still out on the floor, has his name on it . . . )
Joe changed all the magnets, says one to a new worker who has just come in.
JOE, what did you DO?
JOE, that is VERY VERY BAD.
Joe, why did you DO THAT?, another whines.
Do you know what to do now? Which child should get which clothes?, one asks the little boy.
[Joe is about 3 years old. His face is a robot’s. He is not in this room.]
I can’t believe he did that, what a hassle, says one over his head to another.
Joe, nobody asked you to do that did they? DID THEY?
Joe, are you listening? This is a very bad thing. Everyone open the lockers and pick out which back is yours. [They start to do that, one at a time, all the kids scared to be Joe. They all look at him, or down, and back away.]
He needs to THINK before he ACTS, says the other one back to the first one, disgusted.
JOE . . . starts the 3rd worker . . . . another minute of this passes . . . should I intervene?
[A perky mother of a little girls walks in, HI!]
All three of the workers turn to her, yes Isabelle had a great day, everything is great, all tone changes, sunny sunny. Great. She’s not changed yet, We’re running behind, one of them looks scowlingly at Joe, Mommy Dearest not noticing, not her kid. The scowler looks up, notices me, staring at her. Joe is a few feet from me, leaning against the other wall, staring into space. She looks down. She looks back up. I'm wanting her dead. No, really, for real. If I could call down a bullet, I would, and feel just fine about it. She calls out to the kids, Okay, everyone get in line. They do, Joe last.