Beget

We can stipulate, since memory is subject to failure, that the kid was 8. Joyous as he could be, he stood on the second floor window, with a box full of corners and other small plumbing pieces, for what we can only assume to have been part of that which was needed to improve the kitchen in the now old green house, of dreams of things to come. Green house not only, because it was a green painted home, but also because of its most literal -sans hyphenation- interpretation within this dreamscape.

The child's mom, and the child's mom's maid were on the yard. Why? We do not know, but so they were.

Having received a brand new delivery of milk, in those olden age containers made from steel that would contain several gallons, the child proceeded to dip the corners and [redundancy] other small plumbing pieces - which is to say, in the same matter upon which the tortoise below the elephants, who held the inverted dome upon which all existence resides - and started to playfully toss them at the spectators.

[time lapse]

The mother then came in along with the maid, and in the deepest rage of those who had been locked out of their home by a child, proceeded to show him that these specific behaviors would not be tolerated.

[convolution of memories, yet still applicable to this child, or so we think]

Entering the kitchen area, the mother proceeded to grab a knife and flung it, vigorously against the linoleum floor.

The knife bounced.

The knife hit the child on the knee.

Unbeknown to him, this would become a bookmark in the continuing book of his life. The cut became infected and the child worsened so much that delirium set in. Nuns were brought about to keep after the child's soul.

[fast-forward to the not so distant present]

The child grew into a respectable man - though not quite at the moment within which this story takes place - and he assisted in the upbringing of respectable sons.

Yet there was one day when the now grown child, along with his wife, walked into the room their two sons inhabited, and found the kids to be partaking in parenting of their own. The oldest one, in the presence of his younger brother, was teaching his stuffed human-like rabbit a lesson. What this inanimate object had done, we do not know. But we can only assume that the oldest child had been the victim of phantom plumbing droppings, dipped in milk.

Whether the oldest child had become privy of the father's pre-pubescent experience is up for interpretation. But what we do know, is that the child stood proudly before his mandated maker and offered the following translated reason for his acts:

"the bunny misbehaved!"

Grabbing a belt that may have belonged to his younger brother, himself, or more appropriately his father, the oldest brother proceeded to belt the inanimate bunny wherever the belt may land. An animate bunny would have scurried away, but that's besides the point.

The grown child, accompanied by his present wife, left the room and wept.