You Know How
if you are mind-controlled- escaping from his own thoughts
- that inescapable sappy love ballad
- “You remind me of a boxer I used to know.”
- We’re all adults here.
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You know how, if you are mind-controlled, your thoughts are fuzzy and you feel like a man who is overusing drink as a way of escaping from his own thoughts? That’s how I felt, watching the Crystal Clown and her comical steed Nigel disappear down the beach. My brain was in a fog, but I knew not whether it was hormonal in nature, or due to exhaustion, or if Titania had perhaps poisoned me with an infernal clown toxin. My brothers Jove and Jupiter were both married to clowns, but I had always avoided their ilk as bedmates. One hears so many tales of clown treachery, it seemed wisest to avoid joining any in a compromising position. And yet I had just spent the past hour joined in several of the most compromising of positions with the deadliest clown I’d ever heard of. I counted myself lucky to be alive.
My journey back to my senses was hastened by a quartet of crying infants, as my newborn sons awoke from their naps. I quickly donned my soggy morning suit, and scooped the children into my arms. I assumed they were hungry, but I had nothing to feed them. I settled for singing to them, hoping the lullaby would soothe them for a short while. But I couldn’t remember a single lullaby and had to resort to that inescapable sappy love ballad from Titanic. You know the one.
One of my sons, the chubby bruiser on the left, socked me in the nose with his tiny fist. I chuckled at his grit and said, “You remind me of a boxer I used to know.”
Shortly I made my way back to the zeppelin docking spire. I hoped Fleur was still there in the restaurant at the top, and yet I hoped she wasn’t. It would be incredibly awkward, and perhaps even dangerous, to introduce her to these infant sons of mine. I could only hope that she would take pity on them and feed them, as I was incapable of doing.
The elevator ride to the top of the spire was long, and when I emerged into the rotating restaurant, the babies were once again fussing. Fleur and Isolde and their retinue were easy to spot, as they were the only customers in the place. From the looks of the dishes on the table, they’d barely made it to the 5th course, which left plenty of courses to go.
The first person to spot me was Harry, Isolde’s husband. As attractive as I found Isolde, it was a relief to no longer need to act as her proxy husband. My life was complicated enough at the moment. Harry nudged his wife, who nudged her sister. Fleur looked up from her plate of escargot caramels and spotted me, sandy, damp, and bedecked with infants that were not hers. Her eyebrows arched. With a flick of her wrist she signaled the maître d’ to escort me to her table. Harry bristled and wrapped his arm around Isolde, who sat open-mouthed.
All I could think to say was, “We’re all adults here.”
“Well obviously not,” Fleur said. “Those are babies you’re holding, you idiot, and they look hungry. Hand them to me two at a time, and I shall feed them.” She started to unbutton her top. “And while I do that you can feed me my escargot and explain to me just where these children came from. The last I saw, you were leaving in the elevator with an extremely rotund man.” Her eyes grew wide. “Are these the prophesied Seahorse Children?”
bonus points for using them in order