Monday, September 3, 2012
Garden sign said she wants coffee. I don't know where to take an unknown number of cups --are there guests, people in the woody end?-- but I ignore it at my peril. Where did I leave that? Pumphouse, not because it contains peril but a treasured boyhood book I read, "Planet Of Peril", by Otis Adelbert Kline and the mind wandered: Perils Of Pauline? Perils before swine? Swine, wine. What wine with swine? Cabernet, I decided. And they want coffee? There was a wet lump on the underside of the doorknob. I brought it up on my finger and said, "Not again! Are you all right?"
"I think so. Just set me on the sill."
"Certainly, little doorbooger. But you shouldn't loaf under the knob."
"I know. I always forget. But you must admit, the doorknob is safer than getting into the door jamb. People close doors and we have awful accidents in there --again and again. See that mummified flap of flesh at the hinge? That was my father."
"I'm so sorry!"
"No need. He was an idiot."
"Ok, look between my eyes. What do you see?"
"I see a sort of concavity."
"Empty space, nothing."
"Exactly, I inherited that, yet between your eyes is a great cranial vault bigger than the flower pot that five generations of my family call home."
"But surely, your place on the evolutionary ladder equals mine, doorbooger."
"Don't call me that. My name is Darwin."
"You mean...how do you know about Darwin?"
"Us treefrogs are all psychic. We just looked in your mansion-sized human brains and named ourselves after the deal that gave the most reasonable explanation of us.
"So you can see Charles Darwin in my brain?"
"Yeah. We got OBE."
"What's he saying?"
"Not a helluva lot."
"You did that by Out-Of-Body-Experience?"
"No big deal. Every body who isn't you is having one right now."
"That's amazing! And it would compensate for your lack of cranial capacity."
"True, on our own we have poor memories. By the way, aren't you supposed to be brewing coffee? And that book, it's green, bound in buckram."
"Oh yes, thanks for reminding me."