Jiminy
by Jeffrey Wald
‘Ello gov’na.
Ha, I’ve always wanted to say that.
I know you don’t
think that I exist. But let me assure you, I am
very real. OK, perhaps that is not quite right.
You might say I was not yet a
boy, like Pinnochio before he was sprinkled with
fairy dust. Wasn’t he just kindling then?
And Geppetto no more guilty of a crime if he
threw that wooden marionette into the fire than
if he tossed a bundle of oak trimmings in? Let me
answer your fallacious (what, you didn’t
know a fetus could use big words?) reasoning with
a couple of questions. Who made Pinnocchio? And
who made me? When did Pinnochio become a Real Boy?
And when, do you suppose, would I have
become a Real Boy?
But I could
have forgiven you your weak-brained illogical
conclusions – indeed, I already have. Your
types have come to believe your pseudo-science,
and have thus developed a certain degree of
invincible ignorance in that regard. Ah well,
that ignorance shall be burned away in time.
But what I
haven’t forgiven you for, and why I have
been sent back here – there can be no
grudges there, you know – is
for the way you treated my mother, all mothers in
fact. You who promised to help them, protect them,
care for them, instead handed them over to The
Coachman. You who took an oath to uphold the law,
to do Good and seek Justice, have instead called
Evil Good, and Good Evil. You are worse than
Lampwick. Perhaps you can sleep at night –
you’re sleeping just fine now it appears,
but I’ll put an end to that in due course
– but not so my mother. Not so. Do you know
what happens to someone who does evil – I
mean grave, grave evil? They come undone; their
conscience gnaws at them until they bray like
asses in the night just to silence that internal
whisper.
Conscience,
you say, what’s that? Oh, I know, that’s
something you shelved long ago – another one
of your pseudo-scientific rationales, a Darwinian
miswiring you said, or the remnants of
authoritarian religious rule – but no one
can ignore it forever. Like bad Chinese food, it
will always reappear (what, you didn’t know
fetuses could speak in similes and metaphors?
What do you think the word “fetus” is
if not a monstrous metaphor?) But in any event,
your punishment and mine have merged. Yours, for
not asking forgiveness, and mine for not being
willing to forgive.
So here I am, like Scrooge’s ghost of
Christmas past, to haunt you. Ah, but not simply
in your mind – not simply as a phantasm or a
spirit – he knows you would dismiss that
offhand. You’d simply disregard me as
another one of those evolutionary miswirings, or
as the last remnants of that bad Chinese food you
ate last night (you really must stop going there.
Its not authentic). No, he’s sent
me to you in flesh and blood. But here’s the
funny part – you can’t say he doesn’t
have a sense of humor – he’s sent me as
a cricket.
Now listen: I
want to be a cricket about as much as you want to
be haunted by one. So do us both a favor: ask for
forgiveness. As soon as you do, I’m willing
to forgive you. And both our punishments will
cease. And look, you can do it right now.
Remember? You have a press conference at 9. And
you’ve overslept. So wake up you lazy pile
of flesh and bones and tell the whole world how
sorry you are. I say, Wake Up!
***
“Mr.
Governor, Mr. Governor. Hurry, you’ve slept
in. You’re on in 10 minutes.”
“What?
Huh? Oh. I had the worst night
of sleep. Must have been a bad egg roll. What a
terrible nightmare. I was being harassed by a
talking cricket. We really gotta send the health
inspector over there, clean it up.”
“A
talking cricket? Whatever you say, boss. You’re
on in 5. Get dressed.”
***
“Good
morning all. Good morning. It is so good to be
with you this morning. It’s an exciting
moment. Truly historic. A real leap forward in
compassion and mercy for our fine state. For
today, in just a few minutes, House Bill 666 will
be introduced on the floor. And what a bill it is!
This bill – popularly called the Health,
Environment, and Life Legislation – will be
the model for all states going forward. Let me
tell you a little bit about it.”
“Excuse
me, Mr. Governor?”
“Sorry,
Jerry, if you could hold all questions until the
end.”
“But Mr.
Governor, umm, what’s that little black
thing crawling out of your ear?”
“Huh?”
“Yes,
Governor. I think there’s an insect coming
out of your ear.”
“What? No.
No. No. No. It can’t be. Impossible. Oh God
help me!”
Chirp, chirp,
chirp.
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