Harry Jr. and Harry Sr.
“When am I going to separate?” Harry Jr. asked Harry Sr.
“When it’s time…” said Harry Sr.
“But how will I know when it’s time?”
“When you’ve mastered the art of breaking a glass window with a single scream–”
“But, I HAVE!” said Harry Jr.
“When you’ve amassed just the right amount of underarm stench to revolt every passerby–”
“Come on! I must be pretty close to that!”
“When your smile curdles just a bit more–”
“And when your hair finally falls out.”
“We don’t have any hair, Dad.”
“You’ll know, Harry.”
And so, time passed. And passed. And passed.
Then one Sunday morning, at Minton Playground, Harry Jr. spied a tiny human head covered in giant blond curls.
“Dad! Get ready for this!”
He leapt forward, arms outstretched and flickering with excitement… Then he stopped suddenly. The large breathing midsection that had accompanied his every move, the potent smell of lemon heads and tuna fish that had wafted through his every inhale, the extra legs that had carried him to every adventure– they were all gone.
“Dad?!?” Harry Jr. looked around.
“Go on, son.” said Harry Sr.
For the first time in his life, Harry Jr. was alone. And afraid. He began to tremble with uncertainty.
“Come on! You’ve got this! You’re ready!” said Harry Sr.
All of Harry Jr.’s fingers were now audibly twitching with nerves. Shaking and rattling so loudly, it was unsettling. And in that moment, that particular noise caused the little blonde girl to shriek.
“Atta boy!” cried Harry Sr.
Harry Jr. looked back at his dad, curdled his smile, and reached for the child…