wei yau
11-19-2004, 07:07 PM
(Here's another piece, I've posted it before on IIDB. It's considerably more light-hearted than my other piece. Please accept my apologies for these "vanity posts". As much as I enjoy writing, I like feedback even more. I've not yet matured to the stage where I write for my own pleasure, I'm still stuck in the stage where I write to receive social acceptance.)
You have to understand that as a child, a lot of my play was very much inwardly directed. I would devise storylines and histories for each of my toys and have them interact in the playworld.
The ranks of GI Joe were filled with enemy infiltrators. Autobots would transform to get out of traffic as often as they would to fight the Decepticons. Hello Kitty would have a much easier time running her restaurant if Floppy the Rabbit (and waitress) would do something about her speech impediement.
So, as I watch Rebecca play with her Little People farm, I can't help but develop a backstory.
Now, Farmer Jed, is a good man. Sure, he's not as well-off as the hoity-toity Swensens down the road. But, he's a hardworking man who takes good care of his land. Still, even with the assistance of his farmhands and rather good sales at the produce stands, he has a tough time making ends meet.
After a particularly harsh season, the Revenuers came knocking on his door. Well, knocking is more of a euphemism for a towering infant standing twice as high as his barn reaching down towards the farm with chubby little fingers.
Farmer Jed was always parsimonius with his words. He only said what needed saying, no more, no less. Even when confronted with this surreal sight, he had little more to say than a somewhat reverent..."Holy shit".
Agent Becca hadn't been working for the IRS very long and this was her first eviction. Farmer Jed owed hundreds of thousands in back taxes and it was way past time to enforce the law.
Farmer Jed was paralyzed with fear. He felt as if his body had been transformed to rigid, yet soft and non-toxic, plastic. Becca reached for Farmer Jed and lifted him up into the air. Even in his panicked state, Farmer Jed could detect the powerful aroma of animal crackers as Becca's fist engulfed him.
At first, it appeared that Becca would simply give notice to Farmer Jed, but then he felt himself moving towards the second story loft. The loft served as his bedroom, as he could no longer afford to maintain the house and had to live in the barn with the animals.
"Maybe she wants me to pack my things..." reasoned Farmer Jed.
Farmer Jed winced in pain as his head banged against the top edge of the second story loft window. Looking down, he saw that he was being held out the window. The ground looked so strange from this perspective. The grass and dirt almost resembled a berber carpet. A stylish berber carpet that was fetched at a very good price, as it was leftover carpeting from an office build. Even from up here, it looked soft and well-padded and possibly stain-resistant.
Becca's fingers relaxed and Farmer Jed tumbled through the air toward the ground. Landing with a soft thud (it was well-padded), Farmer Jed rolled over onto his back. Through the slow tears developing in his eyes, he gazed upward at the sky. The sky was a perfect shade of white, he appreciated the backbreaking work that goes into painting the ceiling...er, sky... and he couldn't even see the roller marks; no matter what anyone says.
Farmer Jed never had what you would call a friendly relationship with the IRS, but he didn't expect to be treated so roughly. He could have just been asked to leave. He could have been given a chance to gather his belongings.
"And what the hell's gonna happen to my livestock"; Farmer Jed wondered aloud.
His answer came in the form of a confused sounding "Moo?" from Bessie the Cow. To his horror, the sound came from above him. Farmer Jed's eyes widened as a shadow in the shape of a enormous, yet tiny, fist clutching a very perplexed cow came over him. Farmer Jed was not a church-going man, he believed that religion was a personal thing, yet he could not help but shout.
"OH DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN!"
Bessie grew larger and larger as she plummeted towards Farmer Jed. Though moving at 32 feet per second per second, Bessie seem to fall in slow motion towards Farmer Jed. His last conscious thought was being grateful that Bessie had just been milked and might be somewhat lighter.
Becca continued to evict every living thing and inanimate object from the farm. Each one going out the second story loft window. Even the farmhands were tossed from the window. Even the tractor, the horse cart and several crates of apples. Hell, Becca even saw fit to wrench the weathervane from the roof.
Although her heart was a little saddened by Farmer Jed's eviction, she knew that she was only doing her job. She wasn't sure if it was necessary to toss everything through the second story window, but the damn barndoor was so difficult to operate. Besides, she took a perverse glee in watching the various animals fall through the sky. Sometimes the joy could not be contained and she would clap her hands after an animal took a particularly entertaining bounce off of Farmer Jed's now unconscious form.
How she hated these yokels.
What have I learned from Becca's playtime? First, small farmers that are not working for gigantic farming conglomerates suffer greatly at the whim of Mother Nature. Also, it is high time for a national debate on the subject of agricultural subsidies in this country.
Finally, things have reached a sad state when the best entertainment I can find is living vicariously through my daughter's playtime activities.
You have to understand that as a child, a lot of my play was very much inwardly directed. I would devise storylines and histories for each of my toys and have them interact in the playworld.
The ranks of GI Joe were filled with enemy infiltrators. Autobots would transform to get out of traffic as often as they would to fight the Decepticons. Hello Kitty would have a much easier time running her restaurant if Floppy the Rabbit (and waitress) would do something about her speech impediement.
So, as I watch Rebecca play with her Little People farm, I can't help but develop a backstory.
Now, Farmer Jed, is a good man. Sure, he's not as well-off as the hoity-toity Swensens down the road. But, he's a hardworking man who takes good care of his land. Still, even with the assistance of his farmhands and rather good sales at the produce stands, he has a tough time making ends meet.
After a particularly harsh season, the Revenuers came knocking on his door. Well, knocking is more of a euphemism for a towering infant standing twice as high as his barn reaching down towards the farm with chubby little fingers.
Farmer Jed was always parsimonius with his words. He only said what needed saying, no more, no less. Even when confronted with this surreal sight, he had little more to say than a somewhat reverent..."Holy shit".
Agent Becca hadn't been working for the IRS very long and this was her first eviction. Farmer Jed owed hundreds of thousands in back taxes and it was way past time to enforce the law.
Farmer Jed was paralyzed with fear. He felt as if his body had been transformed to rigid, yet soft and non-toxic, plastic. Becca reached for Farmer Jed and lifted him up into the air. Even in his panicked state, Farmer Jed could detect the powerful aroma of animal crackers as Becca's fist engulfed him.
At first, it appeared that Becca would simply give notice to Farmer Jed, but then he felt himself moving towards the second story loft. The loft served as his bedroom, as he could no longer afford to maintain the house and had to live in the barn with the animals.
"Maybe she wants me to pack my things..." reasoned Farmer Jed.
Farmer Jed winced in pain as his head banged against the top edge of the second story loft window. Looking down, he saw that he was being held out the window. The ground looked so strange from this perspective. The grass and dirt almost resembled a berber carpet. A stylish berber carpet that was fetched at a very good price, as it was leftover carpeting from an office build. Even from up here, it looked soft and well-padded and possibly stain-resistant.
Becca's fingers relaxed and Farmer Jed tumbled through the air toward the ground. Landing with a soft thud (it was well-padded), Farmer Jed rolled over onto his back. Through the slow tears developing in his eyes, he gazed upward at the sky. The sky was a perfect shade of white, he appreciated the backbreaking work that goes into painting the ceiling...er, sky... and he couldn't even see the roller marks; no matter what anyone says.
Farmer Jed never had what you would call a friendly relationship with the IRS, but he didn't expect to be treated so roughly. He could have just been asked to leave. He could have been given a chance to gather his belongings.
"And what the hell's gonna happen to my livestock"; Farmer Jed wondered aloud.
His answer came in the form of a confused sounding "Moo?" from Bessie the Cow. To his horror, the sound came from above him. Farmer Jed's eyes widened as a shadow in the shape of a enormous, yet tiny, fist clutching a very perplexed cow came over him. Farmer Jed was not a church-going man, he believed that religion was a personal thing, yet he could not help but shout.
"OH DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN!"
Bessie grew larger and larger as she plummeted towards Farmer Jed. Though moving at 32 feet per second per second, Bessie seem to fall in slow motion towards Farmer Jed. His last conscious thought was being grateful that Bessie had just been milked and might be somewhat lighter.
Becca continued to evict every living thing and inanimate object from the farm. Each one going out the second story loft window. Even the farmhands were tossed from the window. Even the tractor, the horse cart and several crates of apples. Hell, Becca even saw fit to wrench the weathervane from the roof.
Although her heart was a little saddened by Farmer Jed's eviction, she knew that she was only doing her job. She wasn't sure if it was necessary to toss everything through the second story window, but the damn barndoor was so difficult to operate. Besides, she took a perverse glee in watching the various animals fall through the sky. Sometimes the joy could not be contained and she would clap her hands after an animal took a particularly entertaining bounce off of Farmer Jed's now unconscious form.
How she hated these yokels.
What have I learned from Becca's playtime? First, small farmers that are not working for gigantic farming conglomerates suffer greatly at the whim of Mother Nature. Also, it is high time for a national debate on the subject of agricultural subsidies in this country.
Finally, things have reached a sad state when the best entertainment I can find is living vicariously through my daughter's playtime activities.