The Next Stephen King

I got a rare opportunity this weekend to be “Mimi” for more than just a few hours. Dean had to have an outpatient procedure done so I offered to watch the girls to make things a little easier. I had Peach and Dean drop the girls off the night before so that they could focus on getting to the hospital and not having to worry about getting the girls up early and getting them to me.

Sometimes you forget how active little imaginations are.

As I was cleaning up the dinner dishes, Fish (the five-year-old) brought the purse she plays with at my house and announced to Pappy (The Husband Dude) that he was going to be the police and that Bug (the three-year-old) was her daughter.

“Okay,” The Dude said. “Did you need the police, ma’am?”

“No,” Fish told him. “I have to call you first.”

“Oh, okay.”

Fish picked up the play cell phone. “I’m dialing 911 because I need the police. Hello, operator? I need you to send the police. A very mean man stole all the vegetables. Ok…thank you!”

The Dude pretended he had just arrived. “Hello, ma’am. Did you call the police?”

“Yes, I did,” Fish responded. “I was here at the store shopping when a very mean man stole all the vegetables!”

I chimed in from the kitchen. “It’s a cucumburgler!”

“Tell me exactly what happened,” The Dude said to Fish.

“I was shopping with my daughter, and this very mean man came up and shoved me out of the way. He hurt my arm. Then he just grabbed vegetables and ran!”

Bug chimed in this time. “He was mean!”

“So, ma’am, can you describe the man?”

“He had black curly hair and he was wearing pants!”

“THANK GOD HE HAD ON PANTS!” I exclaimed.

The Dude shot me some side-eye.

“What else can you tell me about him?” The Dude asked Fish.

“He had on a shirt with flowers and he had a dog.”

“Well, ma’am,” The Dude said, “I’m going to start looking for him right away.”

“PUT HIM IN JAIL!!!” Bug yelled.

Fish nodded. “Yes. I want you to put him in jail, but I don’t want his dog to go to the pound.”

“HE BIT ME!!!!” Bug yelled.

“On second thought,” Fish said, “I do want you to put him in the pound. He bit me. See?” She showed her arm to The Dude.

“HE BIT ME!!!” Bug repeated.

“And he bit my daughter,” Fish said.

“Okay, ma’am,” The Dude said again. “I’ll start searching right away.”

“Here. I’m going to pay you,” Fish told him, pulling a pretend credit card out of her purse.

“Pretty sure that’s a felony,” I commented.

This exchange made me think that Fish is going to grow up to write crime novels, or maybe script crime shows. She might even write mysteries. She definitely has the imagination for it. I soon discovered that Bug may have a future in writing as well.

I set up camp in the living room with the girls. They each took an end of one sofa, and I slept on the other. Fish rolled over and went to sleep almost instantaneously. Bug not so much.

“I need a night light,” Bug announced.

“The lamp is on,” I reminded her.

“It’s weird not sleeping in my bed,” she told me.

“Yes, I’m sure it is, but if you lay down and close your eyes, you’ll go to sleep quickly.”

“I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of. Mimi is right here next to you and Sissy is right next to you too.”

Everything got quiet for about two hours.

Bug woke me up crying. “Mimi! IT’S CREEPING ME OUT!”

“What’s creeping you out?” I asked her.

“THAT!”

I looked to where she was pointing. It was a small statue of a cowboy that somebody gave to The Husband Dude. I kept it on the top shelf in the living room next to my Dad’s old kerosene lamp.

“The cowboy?”

“Uh-huh!”

“It’s not real, Bug,” I told her. “It’s not going to hurt you.”

“It’s looking at me.”

This thing didn’t even have distinguishable eyeballs and was literally “facing” the opposite direction, but okay. I got up and moved it from the shelf into the kitchen and set it on the kitchen table.

Another few hours of peace.

“Mimi!” Bug woke me up crying again. “I WANT MOMMY!” she wailed.

“Mommy’s not here. What’s wrong?”

“IT’S CREEPING ME OUT!!!”

“What’s creeping you out?”

“THAT!”

I looked to where she was pointing. This time it was the other shelf.

“IT’S LOOKING AT ME!”

Now, I realized I was half asleep and it was four a.m. and I only had a couple of cumulative hours of sleep…but I was pretty sure there was NOTHING on the shelf that had eyes that could be looking at any of us.

“Bug, the only thing up there is a plant. It’s not even a real plant. It’s a pretend plant.”

“IT’S LOOKING AT ME!!! IT’S CREEPING ME OUT!!!”

“It can’t look at you, Bug. It doesn’t even have eyes.”

“IT HAS AAAAAARMS!!! I’M SCARED!!! I WANT MY MOMMY!””

“Mommy isn’t here right now. Come sit over here with me.”

She climbed onto the sofa with me, and we curled up under my blanket.

“Let’s close our eyes and see if we can go back to sleep,” I told her.

“It has legs. It’s going to touch me!”

“It’s not going to touch you, Stephen King. I won’t let it.”

“Who is Stephen King?”

“Never mind. Go to sleep.”

We sat there staring into the darkness for about forty-five minutes, and then finally, she went back to sleep.

“Good morning, Mimi!!!” Fish sprang up off the couch, ready to start her day.

I swear the plant and the cowboy started laughing at me.

I hope Bug dedicates her first horror script to me.