Chapter 8 - Day 4 (Over the hump)

They say that you can lead a camel to water but you can’t make him drink. And they say that if you place a donkey half way between a source of water and a source of food, and the donkey is equal parts hungry and thirsty, then he will die of starvation, because he will not be able to make a rational choice. I can only imagine they also said that if you ask a young girl to choose a pair of pants on her own the one morning you have to be somewhere on time, that in the time it takes her to makes a choice a) you will ALL die of starvation, ass included, and b) your only thoughts will be of hopping a ride on the next camel that happens along, and galloping as far and as quickly as is dromedarily possible. And, if that camel doesn’t want to drink, then good, because now he’s the designated driver and I’m going to drink enough for the both of us. And if I need to grow a hump or two to store a margarita or four, for those long jaunts through the blue law bible belt baby baiting backwoods, then Quasimodo me up and let’s go for a ride.

Ahem. I digress.

Something divine occurred today with the young princess. I do mean princess, quite literally. I should have assumed from the start that she was of royal blood by her proclivity for making decrees, her benevolent, albeit dictatorial manner, and her natural beauty, that could launch no fewer than a thousand ships. 

However, today her glamour faded. Her rosy cheeks and her spirit washed from her diminutive form. I placed my hand upon her forehead and it was as if a million hell fires were being stoked from her viscera and radiating through her dimples.  She looked at me with an emptiness, her sallow complexion rejecting all hue. She stared deep into my very essence and held on to me as if I were the only thing keeping her from tipping the balance and plunging into the abyss.

At that moment, I felt something awaken inside me. It was coming from a place inside my chest where a younger me had escaped to, only to have been lost and heard from no more.

I felt warmth. I felt bliss. I felt needed.

The intoxication was apparently shared between us, for I could swear that in her feverish state she uttered a single, hushed sound. Daddy.

All at once it felt foreign and familiar. I continued to hold her. I pushed her hair to allow her chakras to breathe, and held her tiny hand. Her heartbeat shook her core and I pressed my lips to her scalp and told her everything would be alright. And as the moon rose above the barren oak tree, I laid her soft head upon the pillow, and kissed her goodnight.

[Science note: Must research optimum internal body temperature for ideal human state. It appears that somewhere between 102 and 103 degrees Fahrenheit, the young girl exhibits maximum tenderness and minimal obstinacy. Will need to replicate experiment with the boy. But how will I introduce the pathogen? Note: Patient zero has just coughed directly into the boy’s mouth.  Must prepare the lab immediately.]

[A song crackles to life on the transistor radio:
‘My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
My Bonnie lies over the sea,
My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
Please bring back my Bonnie to me’]

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