Monday Prompt

Why Do You Think I Never Had Children?

I neglect and abuse my inner child!

The following is an actual conversation I had with my Inner Child in preparation for writing this post. These are her exact words. She watched me scribe them, correcting me when I tried to take short cuts. She wants you to know the whole story from start to finish. So here goes:

Inner Child (IC): Hey, we never get to play anymore. Drat! We used to go to Stagebridge and play clowns. I got to put on baggy pants, a silly tie, goofy glasses, and be Duddles. Duddles the Clown. I miss Duddles.

Adult Self AKA Me: I do too, Sweetie. She’ll come back. She’ll come back when it’s safe. When it’s safe to go to Stagebridge in person, at the church — not our Alameda church, but the big church across from Whole Foods. When we can play with all our other clown friends. There’s Thumper, remember Thumper?

IC: I miss Thumper. She’s so cool. And funny!

Me: We miss Thumper, especially cause she’s our teacher.

IC: Don’t forget our other clown friends, like Francesca and Lulu, and Boing-Boing. I love bouncing around with Boing-Boing. When can I —

Me: Hey, guess what? We have Duddles’ special clothes right here in this Trader Joe’s bag. We can put them on any time and bring Duddles back.

IC: Except we don’t. We, or you anyway, are so busy Zooming all day long. Nothing but Zoom, Zoom, Zoom. And it’s not with clowns. It’s with those boring people who only want to talk about money and policy. Bo-ring!

Me: I know it sounds boring, but it’s crucial for our little church in Alameda. We gotta pay the bills and amend our bylaws.

IC: Bylaws, shmylaws. It’s stupid and boring.

Me: You can get in a nap while I take care of stupid, boring. In the meantime, we’re about to see Bruce for Comedia.

IC: What’s Comedia?

Me: That’s a kind of clowning. Old funky clowning. From Italy in the 1500s before we were born. You may not remember, but you like Bruce, and you love Comedia. Well, at least you love Zani. We get to play Zani today!

IC: Can I be Zani?

Me: Of course!

IC: But how many Zooms after that?

Me: Uh, only three.

IC: Three! It’ll be midnight by then.

Me: Five o’clock. Then we’ll go for a walk.

IC: When do we get to eat?

Me: After our walk and after we write this story.

IC: That’ll be midnight for sure then.

Me: No, actually, I’m taking notes as we talk, so It won’t be from scratch. We’ll have this rough draft.

IC: What’s a ruff daft?

Me: That’s when we’re getting our ideas down on paper —

IC: That’s not paper! That’s your laptop!

Me: Right! But see…words. Everything you say, I’m writing down. It’s on the screen.

IC: So, can I say anything I want?

Me: There’s a prompt…

IC: What’s a prompt?

Me: This amazing lady, 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊.’s ideas or questions to answer…

IC: Oh, yeah, like what?

Me: Like what you think of me.

IC: She really wants to know?

Me: She does! Isn’t that nice?

IC: Even if what I have to say isn’t?

Me: Even if. She wants us to be real. If you tell it like it is, say what you feel, that helps me be better.

IC: Really? Like if I say we need to play more and eat real food, hot food at regular times and get enough sleep, that will happen?

Me: That’s the idea behind the prompt.

IC: Hey, I like this Diana C! She’s cool! She thinks you should take better care of me. I like the sound of that. Is that her picture? Is she the lady with the green plant hair? She’s beautiful! When do I get to meet her?

Me: Uh, gosh, I’m not sure where she lives…

IC: How can we meet her then?

Me: We meet her right here on Know Thyself, Heal Thyself — her publication.

IC: She’s gonna read this?

Me: You betcha! She has to read it before she publishes it on Know Thyself.

IC: Wow! When she publishes it everybody can read it and hear what I say?

Me: You betcha!

IC: Wow and double WOW! Listen up, everybody! Marilyn is a meanie. Well, sometimes she’s a meanie. She never lets us play more than one fun thing at a time. I’m a kid. My job is to play. I’m supposed to play all day long.

Me: This is play. Right now. We’re playing…

IC: No, this is serious. I mean it. You’re mean. Sometimes. You don’t feed me right. Too many nuts and prunes. Not enough real food.

Me: What kind of real food would you like?

IC: Breakfast. We never have breakfast. Real breakfast. You know, like eggs and home fries and bacon and pancakes and muffins and oatmeal.

Me: Sounds yummy. That’s brunch. When it gets safe to do so, we’ll go out and have brunch. Make up for sheltering in place. Unless you want take-out…

IC: No take out. That’s no fun. Going out to eat at the place is fun. With friends, where they bring it all to your table, piping hot with cocoa and whipped cream. And you don’t have to cook. And while we’re out, can we go to the art store and the toy store and walk by the estuary and see the boats?

Me: Yes, we can.

IC: When?!!!

Me: Soon.

IC: That’s not a real answer. Hey, Diana, she’s promising stuff and not delivering. Again. I’m telling on you!!!

Me: You just did. I know, how would you like to dance in a little bit?

IC: I love to dance. I already have my leggings on! Can we wear the belly dancing scarf with the jingle coins?

Me: Of course! That makes dancing ten times more fun.

IC: No, 100 times more funner!

Me: Gimme five!

We high five, and a truce is reached. For now.

Thanks to 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊. for this week’s inspiring prompt:

Marilyn Flower writes political humor and satire to delight socially and spiritually conscious folks. She’s a regular columnist for the prison newsletter, Freedom Anywhere, where she writes about faith and prayer. Five of her short plays have been produced in San Francisco. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times. Stay in touch!