CHARISMATIC MEGAFAUNA

By Quiconque

What I Might Look Like

Family Barbecue

This weekend marked the unofficial start of summer, and, like many families in this fine land, we ushered in the season with a barbecue. Burgers were bought, kebobs were constructed, hyacinth-print tablecloths were obtained, and swimsuits of every size were procured. The new toy�speakers in the shape of little boulders--was unveiled, installed, and subsequently oohed and aahed over.

In keeping with the new family togetherness, everyone was invited, including the Evils. The Michigan cousins did not come. Nevertheless, everyone was on his and her best behavior. I don�t know why. I was really hoping things would degenerate into a knife fight. Don�t these people know I have a blog to fill? My friends require frequent updates on my family�s insanity.

Even Aunt Greater Evil behaved; her only crime was to sit next to the pool and scream at the kids for splashing. The kids, usually so willing to get into mischief, were cooperative, pleasant, and fun. The only mishap was the broken pool ladder, but even that didn�t faze anyone. The ladder had shown signs of breaking last summer. Its demise was no one�s fault, and the kids managed to get in and out of the pool without it. Therefore, there was no one to yell at or punish.

Last year, Prima, acting on the advice of a mad German man, kidnapped one of the feral kittens and took it to Hell�s Kitchen to live the pampered life of a house pet. This year, Rachel, finally over the grief of losing her cat, planned on reenacting kitten thievery. Apparently the word is out among the feral cat community to avoid our parties, because no cats made an appearance.

No one bust their head, either! Brother Ephraim showed up and was positively sedate. No jumping, no dancing. I thought that the baseball practice going on in the bigger yard would be good for a head injury. Even JoJo, who plaintively cried, �I don�t know how to catch a ball!� performed admirably and avoided getting hurt. All we could do was sit in the shade like a bunch of old women and reminisce about head injuries past.

�Oshimo, did your mother ever tell you about the time a baseball hit her square on the head?� Oshimo�s eyes opened wide, as if he couldn�t believe that his mom could do anything as adventurous as stand in the path of a speeding baseball. �Oh, it was long ago, way before you were born. In fact, your mom was about your age.� That blew his mind, that his mom could have been his age. �We didn�t own this house. A kind old lady named Mrs. Kennedy lived here and she used to let us use her yard for barbecues. We�d set up a long picnic table under the cherry tree. The grown-ups would play cards and we�d play badminton or catch.� Oshimo�s eyes glazed over as he tried to imagine such an idyllic era. �My Daddy, your mom, your Uncle Stephen, and I were playing catch, and we all saw the ball heading for your mom. It was like slow motion. We all screamed for her to get out of the way, but she only looked at us dumbly and then�THWACK! The ball hit her on top of her head.�

Oshimo blinked and looked at his mom incredulously. �Was there blood?�

�No, there was no blood.�

�Did she have to go to the hospital?�

�No, she didn�t have to go to the hospital.�

�Was she unconscious?�

�No, she was not unconscious.�

�Oh.� Convinced that, as far as family head traumas go, this was the mildest he�d heard of so far, he laughed and scampered off to join his cousins.

The only excitement came at the end of the night, after the guests had left [thank you, Rabbit, Rachel, and Rachel�s friend, for coming] and the parents had gone to bed. The unwelcome appearance of a large white pit bull sent us running into the house. Super Fudge and I tried to find its owner, to no avail. After a few rounds of �Thank God you closed the gate,� we programmed the number for animal control into all the cell phones and then retired for the night, grateful, for once, for such a boring family barbecue.

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READING: Fashion magazines to find out the hot new looks for summer. Orange and pink are IN!

WATCHING: Cartoons on the WB