This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, incidents, and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business enterprises, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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toidI gnilbbaB ehT m’I iH.
Sorry excuse my sense of humor. You can spend hours trying to decode the above writing, but being a good sport, I’m going to give you a hint.
Hold on a second! Gee I hate when this happens, it’s like forgetting the punch line…it’s coming….it’s right on the tip of my tongue. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound obnoxious, but I have to stick out my tongue (Sticks out tongue, and rotates his head in different directions).
Hold on…. Shucks I have a small problem, literally. My tongue is just not long enough, or another way of looking at this (maybe you can, but not me since that’s the root of the problem) because it’s too short.
Must be bad genes, definitely on my dad’s side! Everything on his side seems to be cropped including his crew cut and flooded pants.
I’ve seen persons actually touch their noses with their tongues. It’s a little freaky, don’t you think? Although, I don’t think they’ll be wise and attempt this feat when they have a runny nose. Maybe they do tongue stretches, or hold on a second, I got it… they’re like fly traps, catching all sort of insects, somewhat like lizards. I hope they don’t actually eat what they catch. Come to think of it, I wonder what the world record is for the longest tongue. This could be a crucial fact to remember. For instance, one can really impress a lady by this small bit of information.
Shoot, I lost my train of thought. What was I trying to figure out here? I’ll use one of my special techniques to refresh my memory…Babble, babble, babble, my mind is going to unscramble. Uh huh I can barely see the tip of my tongue, so excuse me for one moment while I go get something. (Please don’t touch that dial. Goes to the bathroom and gets a mirror.)
Now, let me have a look in the mirror to see my tongue…oh now I remember …if you hold a mirror to the words above you’ll be able to unravel the message. Shiny reflections help bring out the truth. Still don’t get it, then please let me try this again.
Hello comrades! I just attempted the Russian version, the snaissuR (ha, ha excuse my sense of humor,) always begin writing from the left to the right side of the page, at least I think so, but heck what do I know, I’m The Babbling Idiot.
I feel my name might sound a touch impersonal, so let’s take out the word ‘the’. Somehow my name just doesn’t sound the same without it. It sounds less important. To strip me of the word ‘the’ is like stripping me of an important title. Did you ever notice that all the important people like kings, queens, popes etc. all have titles? They are very important and influential people. On the other hand, I’m very obscure, and just like babbling. Ok, It may take me some time to build my reputation. I do expect to become very influential myself, where others will come to me for my opinion on crucial global matters.
On a more personal level, what do you say if you just call me Babb Id, and heck just for the sake of simplicity let’s try an even shorter and friendlier form. Please feel free to call me Babbid, now as you can see the ‘i’ is even shorter, (brief pause trying to contain his laughter), sorry excuse my humor, once again.
It seems that the new hip thing these days are short forms, lots of love = lol, tgif = thank God it’s Friday, and I don’t know what the heck lmao stands for. If you figure it out please let me know.
I just figured out the short form for midget. Would you like a hint? The first letter is a word that rhymes with bevel, and no, it’s not level. Give you another hint, he wears a little red suit, and has a permanent residence that requires no central heating, or air conditioning for that matter. Need another hint? Go to hell! No, not you. I don’t mean that literally. That’s actually another hint. Still didn’t get it? Well let me spell it out for you. Lived. Ha, ha, I’m having one of those Russian moments again. If you guessed devil, you’re absolutely right! Now you know d is the first letter in the word. Now, what is the second letter in our mystery word? Duh, now let me think about it for awhile. If you guessed the word ‘what’ you’re absolutely right. So now we have the first two letters a ‘d’ and a ‘w’. Now you can figure out the rest, I have better things to do with my time. (Pauses in a moment of reflection.) You know I’m just kiddin’. This would be terribly cruel on my part, and you’d probably never talk to me again. Ok, it’s time for the next clue, so as not to leave you in suspended animation. The clue this time is it’s one of the vowels in the previous sentences. Better yet, I will give you another clue, “I hee, I hee, to work I shall go! Wait a second, something doesn’t sound quite right. Give me a moment to get my bearings straight. Babble, babble, babble, my mind is going to unscramble. Ha, actually it is “I ho, I ho, to work I shall go.” Well you get the idea. Come on, you must have gotten it by now! Really, do I have to spell it out for you? Okay you win. The short form for midget = dwarf.
I feel like you barely know anything about me, and I must apologize for not telling you a little bit about myself. My intelligence was once compared to Einstein’s theory of relativity. I was told that Einstein was a genius with an IQ of about 200. Very few people if any go above this threshold. Then I was told if my IQ was added to his, he would have an IQ of 220, making him a super genius. I felt ecstatic knowing that I can be placed in the same company as someone as great as him.
I’m a pretty smart guy, you know. I listen well and can follow instructions down to the ‘t’. Even my mom once said I should be applauded for my smarts. One day she told me to take the garbage outside. So I did. I took out the garbage bag from the waste basket and set it outside on the veranda. Later that evening when my mom retuned from work, she was baffled that they didn’t take the garbage. What I can’t understand is why anyone would want to take our garbage. Pretty disgusting if you ask me!
As far as I can remember, I always did as I was told. I recall another incident when she told me to wash the dishes and stack them, so I did. I stacked each dish on the countertop. Later my mom comes and asks me why didn’t I wash all the dishes, and why I had placed them on the countertop. I was baffled, and told her I had. But she rebuked me and told me that I didn’t wash the cutlery, glasses, or pots. Gee why the heck didn’t she just say so. Also if she wanted me to stack them in the dish rack why didn’t she just say so. It was similar to the time she told me to trim the grass, making it seem like it would only take me a few minutes. So I grabbed the scissors from the bathroom and started clipping. After ten minutes my arm really started to hurt. I went inside and told her I was quite tired. She told me not to be a baby and continue on. I tried for another ten minutes. My mom came outside and suggested that I should try using the lawn mower. Women can never make up their minds. Sometimes I believe they try to drive us guys nuts. There were other incidents, but you can’t very well expect me to remember everything!
Babbid, The Painter:
“Well dad I’m off. Today, I begin my first job as a painter.”
“All the best to you son. The only real sound advice I can give you is to listen carefully and follow instructions. If you leave your boss speechless at the end of the day, it’s a sure sign that you’ve done a great job. Son, I want to give you this. It is my way of saying congratulations.”
“Gee, thanks dad.” Babbid admired his shiny new tool box. He quickly opened it up. It had every tool imaginable and some extra items like electrical tape to boot. “Thanks again, I’ll see you later.”
“I’m proud of you son, have a good day.”
Babbid arrived at the job address. He immediately recognized his boss’s van parked next to the garage. Humming to himself, he grabbed his gloves, rollers, and brushes from the trunk of the car. He then changed into his steel toe boots. Luckily, he remembered to have worn his overalls. The last thing he wanted was to be covered in paint. The sun was shining; a sure bet it was going to be a good day.
He rang the doorbell. It was a pretty impressive home; houses on this crescent were worth well over a million. His boss, Peter, greeted him and led him inside.
“Let me show you what needs to be done.” Babbid simply followed, hanging on to his boss’s every word. As he walked through the home, he was impressed by the vast size and beauty of the home.
“Here we are. Now this wall needs to be cut and painted. Be careful not to go too close to the edges. The other walls in this room have already been painted. Don’t worry if you make a little bit of dust, since the owners are having the vents cleaned once we’re finished. Be sure to open some windows and doors so we get some fresh air into the house. Also if you spill some paint, don’t panic since it is washable. Once you’re done this wall, slap a fresh coat of paint on the walls at the top of the stairs. Afterwards, I’ll show you a few other walls which also need to be painted. Gee, these tarps are quite dusty, probably could use a good washing. One of the most important things to remember is to leave everything in good order as we are working. Now, I need to step out for a while to go to the hardware store to pick up some materials and visit another job site. Here’s my phone number, should you need anything. Do you have any questions?”
“I think I’m good. You simply want me to cut and then paint this wall. Then I need to give the walls at the top of the stairs a fresh coat. ”
“I love fast learners. I have a feeling you’re going to do very well,” Peter complimented Babbid, slapping him on the back.
Babbid grinned from ear to ear, proud of himself. He heard the door slam shut as he set off to work.
I have just the thing to tackle this wall, he uttered to himself. He prided on being well equipped. Babbid stepped outside and opened his car trunk. He searched for his handsaw, safety glasses, and mask. Carrying the items in hand, he then returned back inside. Babbid remembered to open some windows after all he didn’t want to breathe in the paint fumes. He had penciled a vertical line along the wall to ensure he remained one inch from the edge of the wall, being ever so careful not to go over the edges just like his boss had instructed. After all, he didn’t want to muck up the other freshly painted walls. With even strokes, he eventually cut through a piece of drywall.
After some time, he examined his work. At this rate, he figured he would spend all day simply sawing. Perhaps his boss had left something behind which would expedite the process. He went into the kitchen where he found an electric saw. His boss would want him to use his time efficiently, and thus with saw in hand walked back into the living room. He quickly recalled the saying, ‘if you want a job well done, be sure to use the proper tools’.
A thick film of dust was quickly engulfing the air and spreading throughout the entire home, the dust settled on fixtures and furniture. Gee, why don’t they install glass wipers for eye-glasses, thought Babbid. His mask helped to cut out some of the dust from suffocating him. He was entirely covered in a thick coat of dust.
Babbid was proud that he thought to number each piece of drywall, so once he finished painting the pieces they could be correctly placed back together. He carried each piece out through the side door of the house and set them on the grass in the backyard according to number. After all, his boss stressed the importance of leaving everything in proper order.
Just one small section left. As he was slightly leaning over on a ladder, which was positioned over a rubber mat to avoid scuffing up the floors, his electric saw accidentally slipped and inadvertently severed through some electrical wires. Babbid quickly set down the saw. He took a moment to figure out how to fix this minor problem. He remembered he had electric tape in his car, and after all this was definitely an electrical problem. Upon returning, he carefully wrapped the electrical tape around and around, ensuring to fully cover the severed wire. A loud thump ensued as two of the wires inadvertently touched. Babbid looked around several of the rooms to make sure everything was okay, but noticed nothing out of order. Perhaps it is thunder, thought Babbid. He hated storms. “Good as new,” he uttered to himself once he finished covering the wires.
He carried the gallon of paint ready to paint the next wall. He opened the doors leading into the bedrooms to allow more light into the area. Slapping a coat of paint reminded him of his elementary school days of finger-painting. He poured some paint into a tray and then dabbed his hands into the tray. He was having so much fun that he couldn’t believe he was actually being paid to do such work. Babbid thought his boss was pretty smart telling him to open the doors; otherwise the splashing may have landed on the doors. As he stamped the walls, drippings spread onto the chandelier, furniture and carpets, but Babbid disregarded the above mess, recalling his boss’s words that the paint was washable.
Definitely his luck was changing for the better. After having seen that rainbow last month, things had definitely improved in his life.
After a short time, his wrists began to slightly hurt from the repeated gesture of hand painting the wall. The wall had hundreds of his hand-prints, and he felt it was a time to call it quits. He ignored the drippings on the floor, and also dismissed the paint under his shoes as he stepped directly onto the carpeted stairs.
Unsure which walls needed to be painted next, he recalled his boss telling him that the tarps could use a good washing. He rolled up the drop sheets, without bothering to dust them off, and headed downstairs into the laundry room. Babbid frowned, unsure which button to turn first. “Babble, babble, babble, my mind is going to unscramble.” After a few attempts, he figured it out. He set the washer on the gentle cycle. After all he didn’t want the tarps to rip. They must be pretty important for his boss to keep using them. He turned on the washing machine and headed back upstairs, humming to himself. Unfortunately a few large drywall pieces were wrapped within the tarp and they clogged some of the pipes. Soon, enough water began gushing out of the washer and onto the basement floor.
As he headed outside, for a short break, he couldn’t understand why the owner’s fence had a large hole through it and even more puzzling why there was a heater in the shallow end of the pool. Strange people, he thought. Maybe the hole served as a faster means for them to dive into the pool. It never dawned on him that the loud thump of the two wires touching caused the pool heater to rip through the fence.
Babbid was working so diligently that he didn’t hear his boss’s van pull in. As Peter walked towards the house, he spotted fragments of drywall scattered all along the grass. Maybe the owners had workers working on something, Peter thought. But he then recalled only having seen Babbid’s car in the driveway. He took a peek towards the back of the house to see if someone was out back. His mouth hung open seeing a huge hole in the fence. “Oh my God, what happened here?” The swimming pool heater floated on top of the water. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered. As he walked along further, he froze. Large pieces of drywall were spread all along the grass. Weird, he thought. As he entered through the side door, he saw a light film of dust floating in midair. "Crap," he uttered noticing the paint on the carpet. He could hear something, sounded like water. As he descended the staircase, a foot of water had covered the entire floor. “What the hell!” he roared.
He stormed up the stairs into the living room. He stood in utter shock like he was having the worst nightmare of his life. The entire back wall was now missing. Babbid was simply smiling and announced in a matter of fact tone, “Everything is done boss, just as you asked.” Babbid stood tall, quite proud. The sight before Peter was too horrific, leaving him speechless. Babbid smiled, realizing he had done well. The boss was speechless just like his father had said. Unable to utter a single sound or scream his guts out, Peter simply stared aghast at the empty space.
It was with little surprise that Babbid’s painting career came to an abrupt halt. Once his boss calmed down slightly, the only comprehensible words out of his boss’s mouth were, “My career is over! Thanks for the great work, but frankly I don’t think we can afford your services any longer!”
Babbid stood perplexed, but figured that things must not have gone too well at the other job site his boss had visited. At least, he could go home and tell his father the great work he had accomplished and that his boss congratulated him and stood speechless for some time.
Babbid examined his clothing and was a touch upset that he got smears of paint on his brand new overalls.
For Babbid's Eyes Only!
Babbid’s father is eating his breakfast when Babbid asks, “Dad, why do you wear glasses?”
“Glasses allow one to see better; you see son, the worse one’s vision, the stronger the lens needed.” He notices the puzzled look on his son’s face. “Maybe I can explain this a little bit better, let me give you an example. If one was to wear really, really strong glasses then a mouse would appear much, much bigger, almost the size of an elephant. Another way of looking at this is based on the principle of lenses, concave lens change the focal point, and thus objects which are further away appear much closer. Thus the stronger the lens, the further the distance one can see.”
“Oh,” Babbid responds, understanding. Soon his mind reels with different ideas. He realizes if he had many lenses stacked together he could see really, really far based on his father’s explanation. His face lights up as a notion hits him. Based on his father’s explanation, he could see all the way to the moon and watch the astronauts bounce around. Babbid concludes that glasses are really neat.
The following week Babbid is scheduled for his check-up with the optometrist. He enters the optometrist’s office, and is asked to have a seat. It is his first time at this doctor’s office. Moments later, Babbid is escorted into the examination room. As Babbid walks over, he nearly trips, but manages to catch himself.
Babbid explains to the optometrist that he’s having headaches while reading. For the past few months, Babbid has spent most of his spare time reading, enjoying a really neat adventure series. Last night, he just began the twelfth book in the series.
Dr. Kurt suspects that Babbid may require glasses. “Okay, let’s check a few things. Can you start by reading the very first line of the chart?” Babbid gives the doctor a quizzical look.
Above the eye-chart, lay a funny slogan. Babbid sees the eye chart with the large letter ‘e’, but figures that the doctor wouldn’t be pointing to it, since it was so large that even someone with extremely weak eye-sight would be able to read it, so he reads the first letter on the slogan. “G,” Babbid responds confidently, grinning from ear to ear.
He immediately realizes something was happening with the lad’s vision. It also could explain why he nearly tripped over the slight incline walking into the room.
While being examined, Babbid believes if he’s good, the doctor will grant him glasses. After all, his mother always said, ‘good things come to those who are good.’
Dr. Kurt continued with his examination, “Okay, what’s the second letter?”
“R .” Dr. Kurt’s head snapped back, inadvertently hitting his head on the wall behind him. For a couple of seconds he saw a galaxy of stars. Babbid looked at Dr. Kurt who seemed dazed. Babbid assumed the doctor to be fantasizing about something. Once Dr. Kurt recovered from his blow, he continued on. As Dr. Kurt contemplates Babbid’s difficulties, he notices a Rottweiler outside the window. He wonders how well Babbid would be able to see the dog.
“Babbid, can you look outside the window into the reception area, and tell me the type of dog you see?” The Rottweiler was playing with his playmate, Cupcake, a Chihuahua. The two dogs were running around in circles, chasing each other.
Babbid looks outside and notices a small dog playing around, “A Chihuahua.”
Dr. Kurt looks up and sees the Rottweiler directly in front of the window, and sadly continues writing his report. Obviously, Babbid’s vision had greatly deteriorated. Babbid was in need of a strong pair of glasses. The doctor writes up a prescription for Babbid.
The following week, Babbid is all excited to receive his first pair of glasses. He daydreams about seeing things he had never seen before. His parents explain that things may appear a little funny with his glasses, but not to worry because soon he will adjust and everything will appear normal. The next day, Babbid goes to school wearing them. Oddly, his friends appeared much bigger and heavier. He couldn’t get over how different everything looked. How cool, Babbid thought. His parents were right.
As he walks towards the door to enter his classroom, he’s surprised to see how much bigger and further the door-passage appears. It appeared like he was entering a large tunnel. As he steps into the classroom, he inadvertently bumps into the door. He was startled, since it had appeared he had much more room. The classroom breaks out laughing. Babbid recalls his father’s words that things will appear funny. He then tries to sit down and stares at his chair which appears much higher. His classmates looked at him oddly as he tried to climb into his seat. Smirks and laughter engulfed the room as Babbid fumbles to sit down. “Babbid, maybe you should wear two pairs of glasses,” his classmate, John states. The class broke out laughing once again.
“Babbid, can you please come up to the board and write the answer to question number five,” Mrs. Smith, the English teacher stated.
Babbid gingerly walks to the front of the class, bumping into a few seats along the way. The class could not help, but laugh at him. He stares at the chalk in front of him, which appeared quite large in size. He extends his fingers in an attempt to grasp the chalk. Mrs. Smith held a quizzical look watching Babbid, but didn’t question him at the time since she had to quickly slip out of the classroom to gather some photocopies. Babbid was surprised that the chalk was quite light for its tremendous size. Babbid diligently completes the answer. As he was writing, it struck him kind of odd that he continually stood virtually at the same spot; normally he would require two boards. Once he completed his answer, he returned back to his seat. His classmates are laughing hysterically, but Babbid doesn’t have a clue as to why.
Mrs. Smith walks back into the room and places the copies on a table at the back of the room. As she glances at the board, she asks Babbid,”I thought you were going to provide us with the answer to question five.”
“But I did.”
Mrs. Smith walks to the front and as she approaches the board, she saw Babbid’s small writing. Even with her glasses on, she struggled to read the writing. It appeared like superscript, and the writing was wavy almost as if Babbid was drunk. “Now Babbd how is anyone supposed to see this tiny writing? I’m sure even you can’t read the letter I’m pointing to?”
“Mrs. Smith, it’s the letter ‘q’.” Mrs. Smith was surprised that he could see at such a great distance, but then assumed he just knew the answer and happened to make out the correct letter.
Babbid’s next class was gym. He looked forward to playing basketball. All the guys scrambled to the change room to change into their shirts and shorts before hitting the basketball court. Today was the final game in the basketball tournament. Each team had won two games, so the winner of today’s game would win. Babbid was excited, because at the last game he scored the winning basket for his team.
The two teams were on the court and Stuart, the gym teacher, blew the whistle. His teammate dribbled the ball to the opponent’s net and then passed it to Babbid, since Babbid stood closest to it. Babbid looked at the large net. He was so close that all he had to do was slightly extend his arm out and shoot it in, and he did just that. But the ball only bounced a couple of feet in front of him. His team mates looked on in bewilderment, annoyed that Babbid had fumbled so badly. Even a young child could have done much better. As the game continued on, Babbid was given a second chance, the ball was thrown to him, but Babbid miscalculated its position and before Babbid could react the ball hit him square in the forehead. It was game over. Babbid’s team lost and Babbid felt badly.
Soon enough, his headaches seemed to be getting worse and Babbid was constantly bumping into walls and tripping over things. One of his teachers reported his odd behavior to his parents. His parents quite concerned, returned back to the doctor. Dr. Kurt, quite concerned himself, sent Babbid off to see a specialist immediately.
During his visit, the specialist begins to examine Babbid thoroughly. He starts with a few preliminary tests. “Babbid how many fingers am I holding up?” Babbid recalls his mom explaining that thumbs are not actually referred to as fingers, so he answers, “One.” The specialist soon believes that Babbid may have a tumor, thus blocking part of his vision. It would explain him bumping into things and his rapid decline in vision. The specialist immediately orders a MRI scan of Babbid’s brain. On the day that Babbid’s scan arrives, the receptionist inadvertently drops two MRI scans and places them erroneously back into the wrong file folders.
The eye specialist’s worst fears were soon realized. Babbid’s MRI showed a massive brain tumor extending well into the occipital region. At most, Babbid had a few months of life remaining. The specialist was sad to see such a young person life end so rapidly; Babbid was only eleven years of age. He collected himself knowing he had to break the news to his parents immediately. Babbid would require constant supervision. He would need medication to ease the pain. He notified the receptionist to call Babbid’s parents, and set up an appointment for the following day.
The specialist broke the news to his parents as gently as possible. Babbid’s parents were devastated. His father tried consoling his mother who kept sobbing. Babbid was their only son and they doted over him ever since he was a baby. It seemed so unfair. His parents discussed what they should do with such little time remaining. They would first pull Babbid out of school. Babbid had always wanted to go to Disneyland and they had never been, now was definitely the time. They booked a trip with the travel agency. It was best to go while Babbid could enjoy himself. Later that night, Babbid’s father explained their new situation. They both tried acting casual as not to arouse suspicion.
“Babbid, it’s been years since we have done something together as a family. Your mom and I have some time off and would like to visit Florida in two days, so we’re hoping we can all go together?”
Babbid’s eye lit up. “That’s awesome. But what about school?”
“A week off won’t hurt. We’ll speak to your teachers. Also Babbid, you don’t have to wear your glasses all the time. Your eyes should have a chance to adjust to them slowly.”
Babbid couldn’t believe his incredible luck; he always wanted to go to Florida. It was a dream come true. The next day he told all his friends. His friends were somewhat envious. Babbid’s parents notified the school principal of Babbid’s medical condition and that he no longer would be attending school.
The night before their departure, Babbid was so excited that he barely slept.
It was Babbid’s first time flying on a plane. He took a seat next to the window. Babbid had tucked his glasses in his handbag just in case he needed them. His dad was seated right next to him.
As the plane took off, Babbid remarks, “Look at that cat on the house below, the one with the green roof.”
Babbid’s father looks outside, but couldn’t see any cat. He whispers to his wife that he believes Babbid is already becoming delusional. The specialist’s words stormed back. Babbid’s mother overcome with emotion becomes teary eyed. The specialist had explained to them that their son would become delusional as the tumor continued to grow. Babbid glanced over at his mother and noticed a tear rolling down her face. He recalled his father’s lecture that once a lady became over joyous, and broke out in tears after winning a huge sum of money. His father had continued to explain that sometimes when women are happy, they cry. Babbid smiled broadly at his mother, believing them to be tears of joy. His son smiling at her, brought on a flood of tears.
Babbid’s excitement grew as the plane began its descent. He dreamed of seeing all his favorite characters and visiting all the awesome spots. Their first pit stop would be to drop off their luggage at their hotel room.
His parents had asked him if he needed a rest. Babbid couldn’t understand what he needed a rest from since he had been doing just that. Seeing that their son was all excited they began on their fun adventure. His parents purchased the necessary tickets. Babbid marveled at the wonderful sight before him. He noticed a clown eating green cotton candy and wanted one just the same.
Standing in front of a candy vendor, Babbid asks “Dad can I have some green cotton candy?” His parents exchanged worried looks, seeing that there was no green cotton candy within the stack of bags. His mom became teary eyed, and Babbid smiled broadly happy that his mom was also happy. Babbid settled for the blue cotton candy, after all candy was candy. As they walked through the park, Babbid made a point of waving to all the Disney characters and grinned broadly.
Elated, Babbid announces, “If I die tomorrow, I would be the happiest person alive.” At her son’s statement, she breaks down in tears and was still drying her tears when Babbid states, “The washrooms are over there. I need to wash my hands.” His father couldn’t figure out how Babbid knew where the washrooms were until he approached closer and noticed signs pointing to the restrooms. Puzzled and surprised, his father asks Babbid, while Babbid is standing twenty feet away, “What letter is this Babbid?”
Babbid answers correctly, “T.” His father asks Babbid to stand another five feet back and points to another letter. Babbid, once again, answers correctly. Babbid’s father nods to his wife who is standing right next to her son, but she herself couldn’t make out the letters.
His parents stare at each other stunned.
By: Imma Argiro and Pat Argiro ©
The Doctor’s Visit:
Whew, what a day!
Unexpectedly I went to the doctor this morning, since I was not feeling well. I seated myself in the receptionist area. As I was settling in my seat, I got this strange feeling that the receptionist was constantly glancing my way. I looked at her and she quickly averted eye contact. She fiddled with her cross pendant which hung around her gold necklace. On the top of the counter next to her computer, I noted a bible, which I found a touch odd for a doctor’s office. I hated to just sit around, so I picked up something to read. A stack of magazines along with a few books were littered all over a glass table. I leafed through sports and health magazines, but finally picked up an unfamiliar book about vampires. It must have been an old edition, since it was leather-bound and the paper edges were lined in gold. I began reading it, but once again sensed the receptionist glancing my way. As I looked up, she smiled at me. Soon enough we began chatting.
What a beautiful smile, I thought to myself. She seemed to like me since she was constantly fiddling with her hair and fingering her cross-pendant. I told her that today could be my lucky day.
She replied, ‘”Oh”’, surprised. I smiled from ear to ear, and told her that I saw a rainbow after exiting my car. She told me that I should considering buying a lottery ticket. Just as we were having a whale of time chatting, I was escorted into the doctor’s office.
The doctor immediately asked me how I was feeling. I explained that I was not feeling my usual self. He then proceeded to shine this bright light into my eyes. I still can’t understand why he needed to shine all that light on such a bright and sunny day! My visit got even more bizarre. He told me too stick out my tongue and say ‘ahh’. Obviously I hesitated, since my mom told me it was rude; she has repeated the same thing ever since I was four years old. I explained this to the doctor. But the doctor had his own agenda and proceeded to check my throat. Obviously, the poor old doc was going senile; since I could speak well and clear enough. He then asked me to take off my shirt, so he could hear my heartbeat.
Suddenly everything made sense! The good old doctor thought I was a vampire. You see, he didn’t want to check my throat, but it was a ruse to check my teeth, or to put it bluntly to see if I had fangs, and he didn’t really want to check if I had a regular heartbeat, but wanted to be doubly sure I had one. The shining of light was to make triple sure that it didn’t bother me. I’m quite a clever guy, and have a knack of putting things together, rather quickly I might add.
But it was when I told my doctor that I was having trouble with my knee that all the chaos occurred.
The good old doc proceeded by checking the reflexes in my good knee. My eyes must have bulged after seeing the size of the mallet. He must have noticed the stricken look on my face, assuring me that the tool looked threatening, but was virtually harmless. Hence he proceeded to explain, “Reflexes are very important, they distinguish between healthy and torn ligaments.” After a good tap, he announced, “Everything looks pretty normal.” Then he proceeded to check my other knee. The rubber mallet made solid contact.
Instinctively, my knee shot up pretty darn fast, and unexpectedly quite hard. Unfortunately the wooden part of the mallet hit the poor doc in the head, bringing on a concussion and landing him flat on the floor. On his way down, the doc knocked over some liquid which spilled all over the floor. In the midst of all this commotion, I’m screaming out in pain.
Crap, I quickly realized my first blunder. I should’ve warned the poor doc about the bad cut and for him to take it easy. I guess I was a bit slow on the draw, or fast depending on which way you look at things. I was ready to shout out for help, when the nurse stomps in unexpectedly. Immediately she slips and takes a hard fall onto the floor.
My dad’s words came rushing back to me, ‘In times of danger, one needs to take control of the situation.’ Immediately, I straightened myself out like a soldier. Standing tall, I take a deep breath and uttered with conviction, “When danger arrives, Babbid thrives!” I then grab a few stacks of paper towels and throw them haphazardly all over the floor in a dire attempt to dry up the spilled liquid. “That was easy enough!” Now I had two bodies to contend with. Boy, I didn’t feel much like the patient, let me tell you.
I look on the counter, hoping to find some smelling salts to revive them. Miraculously, I found a bottle which read ‘Na’ plus some other writing, which I could not read too well. At the time, I thought I was in luck, smelling salt was what was needed. So I poured some of the white stuff onto the doc’s face. Just as I was thinking the doctor was coming around, his face turned blistering red and he began to scratch himself fervently. Inadvertently some of the powder landed on the nurse, turning her skin red as well. The doc seemed to have trouble breathing. His breathing was erratic, like he was gasping for air. It was definitely time to call 911. Why do I have such bad luck?
After explaining to the emergency attendant exactly what was happening, he accuses me of pulling a prank. I told him that the doc was having trouble breathing. He then asked me if the doctor had a pulse. I checked on the right side of his wrist, but couldn’t feel one. Finally he believes me and instructs me to perform CPR. I was instructed to press pretty hard onto the doc’s chest.
Well I did exactly what I was told, feeling pretty proud of myself. But as I was performing CPR, I heard a series of crunching sounds. Quickly relaying this info to the emergency crew, they instructed me to ease up on the pressure; but perhaps a little bit too late I might add. Blood was oozing from the doc’s chest. He appeared to be getting worse. Little did I know he had needles in his shirt pocket, which pierced right through him. The doc was certainly not having a good day at all. Poor guy!
Let me tell you I was a pretty happy camper when the emergency crew showed up. The doc was in pretty rough shape. I guess it wasn’t his day. Just a minor setback in life, among many!
The attendant uttered something under his breath. Although, not to worry. You can never insult me. My IQ is 55. It’s quite a lucky number, and doubly lucky since I got my first shiny bike at age five.
Well enough about my rotten day!
“Babble, babble, babble, I hope your mind will unscramble.”
By: Imma Argiro and Pat Argiro ©