Midnight in the Kindergarten of Good and Evil
by Will Bailey
I’m captivated. Wife is regaling me with tales of her close encounters with a foreign, almost alien people. They are small, noisy and completely unpredictable. No, I’m not talking about Pygmies, I’m talking about Kindergartners. Although, now that I think about it, there’s basically no difference. Especially given the way Wife, who is a school teacher, describes them after a long day of picking up spilled containers of bones (buttons), being offered imaginary potions (soups) and trying to decipher torrential streams of gibberish (gibberish). In my opinion, what’s most unsettling about her anthropological report is the part about how their glistening, unblinking little eyes stay trained on her when she first enters the room. And then, in complete unison, the Pygmies chirp “Good morning Teacher” in a squeaky dialect. It’s right around this time that they “let slip the dogs of war” by running around the room, crying in corners and using their outdoor voices to try and assault all five of Wife’s senses and send her into a trance from which she will wake two hours later to find herself tied to a spit and rotating over a boiling pot of water with carrots and onions stuffed in her pockets. Of course, that’s just according to my wild imagination, probably because Kindergarten Teacher translates to My Worst Nightmare in Nailsbailsian. Luckily, Wife has developed an almost superhuman level of patience and tolerance for childish behavior. I wonder where she picked that up? Maybe she’s been taking a correspondence course in her free time? Who knows.