“My name is Miss Thatwackyperson. Nice to meet you. do let me shake your hand. erm. sorry. those were my spiky rings. oh and my high heels. oh your poor toes. erm. well I’d better get going. oh by the way. You are on the wrong track my boy ” The little woman hobbled away quickly to the top of the hill, cackling with her head thrown back. Her baggy robes flapped in a sudden wind. Numerous colorful shawls and odd bits of jewellery stuck out here and there on her person. The effect was broken slightly by the grocery bags dangling from one arm. And the slight hint of blue, ordinary blue under all the mass of cloth and eccentricity.
Perhaps she was one of a kind. Or perhaps she lived in every village, that crazy women all the grownups fear, and all the children love.
The little boy stared up at the sight, marveling, wondering. He bent down and picked up a small brown package. Scrawled on it in sickly banana letters was “with love, Miss Thatwackyperson”. He smiled. Laughter. Running away down the street. Perhaps mommy and daddy would want to see this. This packet full of something wonderfully queer. Or queerly wonderful. He ran to his house to his room. A dragging, crashing sound, some shout from the hidden depths of the house, a denial. All set. Not that Mom n Dad should’nt see it, he thought guiltily. Just in case.
Untying the strange present from a stranger stranger. A note sat on top of a little velvet box. Don’t tell anyone.
The little boy stared long and hard at the note. Many things were at stake here. he scrutinized the banana like writing, the dirt color of the ink. He held it up to the light. Yes. There seemed nothing wrong with it. the boy crumpled the note and squashed it with an old Lego. scrunched it. twisted it. then dumped it carefully in an old toy truck. Little white papers filled the miniature boot, along with piping details and tiny oil bottles. Secrets, carefully guarded in a surprisingly neat toy cupboard, with all the smashed up trains lined up just so, the bottles, random bouncy balls, rocks,random formless bits of rubber clay, what was once a rubber snake and a wooden hammer, and planes of various sizes and states of repair, all stacked in a pleasing order.
And then he opened the box.