His Left Foot - #fridayflash

“Hey everybody my name’s Crustopher the Scab. I’m that best friend you just love to pick on. I come complete with a blood-stained bandage. “It’s my blanket!” Hold me, tickle me, nibble my crispy edges, just don’t forget I’m a part of you. Do you have a place in your heart for a Scab?” 

From www.doobybrain.com, apparently this is the actual description of this "toy." Weird.

Sammy's foot itched.

He looked at the band-aid on top of his left foot with something akin to desire.

And then looked away.

Then looked.

Then looked away.

"What are you doing?" Sammy's mother asked.

Her voice rang from down the hallway. She was probably in the kitchen. She wouldn't even know if Sammy lifted the band-aid, just a corner of it, and peeked.

"Nothin'."

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said.

He was, in fact, doing nothin'. Just sitting on his twin bed, with its hand-me-down frayed-around-the-edges Buzz Lightyear comforter. Sharing breathing space with his fat ginger cat. Trying not to think about how itchy his scab was under the band-aid.

He petted the cat.

He sure wished there was something to do. Something. Anything.

He petted the cat. And looked at his band-aid.

"Sammy?" his mother called.

"Yesssssss?" Sammy yelled. "What?"

"Could you come here and do up the dishes for me?"

Sammy panicked.

It was the old "you're bored, here's a chore" mother routine. Mothers everywhere knew this trick. It was something the storks taught them when babies were delivered. They were also taught how to work the hidden eyeballs in the back of their heads.

"I'm busy," he said. With conviction. "Really, really busy."

He petted the cat harder. 

The cat threw him a dirty look, snarled and jumped off the bed.

"Are you bothering the cat?"

Sammy was positive his mother had hidden cameras in his room somewhere. He eyed his stuffed animals suspiciously.

"Rat finks," he whispered.

Man, his foot itched.

He looked up, to make sure his mother hadn't snuck in. Then he reached over the bed and smacked his traitor dinosaur upside the head. The dinosaur tumbled on the floor.

"I'll be there in a minute," he yelled to his mom.

And checked once more to make sure the coast was clear.

He lifted a corner of the band-aid. It stuck a little. He pulled it, and it came away like scotch tape on hidden Christmas presents. He lifted it all the way and admired the perfect scab replica on the band-aid pad.

It was a mirror image of the scab.

Two scabs. Two scabs in one.

Like the inkblot cards he had to look at sometimes in the doctor's office.


Note to my son Sammy, who is nothing like this Sammy. Not at all! I just wanted to use your name, babes! Because I loves ya like crazy. And I was thinking about you, wondering what you're doing. 
oxoxoxo