MY VISIT WITH HENRY
Two friends had a son they named Henry in September (fortunately, birth was during the work week and so did not interfere with football-watching), and I saw him a week or so after he was born. He seemed more interested in sleep at that time, and our conversation was a little limited when he was awake. but I figured his social skills would improve with time.
After five months, I went back to see whether there had been any change in the boy. He was a little bigger and a little more social this time, but the biggest change I noticed was the growth of his psychic powers.
All babies, you see, are gifted with the ability to see into the future. For instance, when an infant looks at you and smiles, it's because the babe is seeing the hilarious pratfall you will take as you leave the house, or whatever misfortune that strikes you whenever. Sadly, this foresight disappears with age, usually about the time they learn to construct coherent sentences.
Henry's parents did not know this. They took his gurgles and yelps to mean, "My diaper displeases me. Get me another one" or "I detest the strained peas you are forcing into my mouth, and I will take a terrible vengeance upon you later." Only I recognized that he was saying, "Mr. Bear is almost in the market! Sell now!" Or something like that. But whatever the case, I knew the boy's eyes were fixed upon a stock ticker of the near future that only he could see, and my greed and I were determined to extract that information.
But my experience with the psychic world is limited, mostly to playing with the Magic 8-Ball as a child. Well, sometimes you gotta go with what you know, so I began shaking the boy and asking him a question about my 401(k) investments (think Tommy Lee Jones interrogating the pug in Men in Black). Henry seemed to enjoy the experience at first, and when I stopped I could have sworn his eyes had "The outlook is not good" on them. Henry was less amenable to a second question, and a toaster flew off the counter by itself and came speeding toward my head. I ducked quickly, and the toaster instead struck Henry's father, rendering him unconscious and the boy and me bent double with laughter. (Henry's smiles at his father all made sense now.)
The belly laugh aside, I left the house with little material profit to show. But I shall go back soon ... with a Oiuja Board.
Two friends had a son they named Henry in September (fortunately, birth was during the work week and so did not interfere with football-watching), and I saw him a week or so after he was born. He seemed more interested in sleep at that time, and our conversation was a little limited when he was awake. but I figured his social skills would improve with time.
After five months, I went back to see whether there had been any change in the boy. He was a little bigger and a little more social this time, but the biggest change I noticed was the growth of his psychic powers.
All babies, you see, are gifted with the ability to see into the future. For instance, when an infant looks at you and smiles, it's because the babe is seeing the hilarious pratfall you will take as you leave the house, or whatever misfortune that strikes you whenever. Sadly, this foresight disappears with age, usually about the time they learn to construct coherent sentences.
Henry's parents did not know this. They took his gurgles and yelps to mean, "My diaper displeases me. Get me another one" or "I detest the strained peas you are forcing into my mouth, and I will take a terrible vengeance upon you later." Only I recognized that he was saying, "Mr. Bear is almost in the market! Sell now!" Or something like that. But whatever the case, I knew the boy's eyes were fixed upon a stock ticker of the near future that only he could see, and my greed and I were determined to extract that information.
But my experience with the psychic world is limited, mostly to playing with the Magic 8-Ball as a child. Well, sometimes you gotta go with what you know, so I began shaking the boy and asking him a question about my 401(k) investments (think Tommy Lee Jones interrogating the pug in Men in Black). Henry seemed to enjoy the experience at first, and when I stopped I could have sworn his eyes had "The outlook is not good" on them. Henry was less amenable to a second question, and a toaster flew off the counter by itself and came speeding toward my head. I ducked quickly, and the toaster instead struck Henry's father, rendering him unconscious and the boy and me bent double with laughter. (Henry's smiles at his father all made sense now.)
The belly laugh aside, I left the house with little material profit to show. But I shall go back soon ... with a Oiuja Board.
posted by John Parnell at 10:57 AM
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