Case # 37: Video

[19centconstable]

[Someone is holding the communicator carelessly in one hand, as though they don't know it's on. The floor passes by slowly under the camera's lens. Whoever they are, they're walking hesitantly toward something. Bathroom tile appears, and then: the base of the toilet.]

Sweet wounded Jesus. I've died and gone to heaven.

[It's a boy speaking; his voice soft and high, his accent somewhere between Irish, British, and Pirate.

In other words: George Crabtree.]

Comments

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

Well, you play Cowboys and Indians with it, usually. Although that's a strange looking Cowboy.

[It's wearing trousers, therefore: must be male. Never mind the pretty face and malformed chest.]

Is that a wood horse? It's very shiny.

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

What are cowboys and Indians? [A pause.] And the horse isn't wooden. It's shiny. Look.

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

They're...Cowboys and Indians. You know.

Is it porcelain? If it is, it's no good for playing with: it'll break too easily.

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

I dropped it already. It won't break!

How do you play?

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

You just play. You...you get Indians; you can cut them out of paper, or you and I could be the Indians, and then the Indians go around stealing livestock, and taking scalps, and the Cowboy's got to stop them with their ropes and pistols.

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

I want to play! Can I be an Indian? Yay!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

Right. So we need feathers, and bows and arrows.

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

I can draw feathers!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

And we can pretend the bows and arrows!

[George is quickly forgetting how grown-up he's supposed to be.]

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

Okay! [A pause.] Um...can you come let me out? The door is too high up.

Then we can play!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

Uh. Sure. Where are you?

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

My room, George!

Oh yeah. Um. Level seven, the first room!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[George starts off in that direction.]

Hey. You...know older me?

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

Uh huh! He's my friend.

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

Is he...am I really a policeman?

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

Uh huh. Is that okay?

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

No! I wanted to run away with the circus.

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

What's a circus?

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

It's a circus. Animals and acrobats and such.

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

Oh. [Pause.] Are you almost here?

Spam?

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[There's a knock at her door.]

Jane?

Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

[Her childish voice replies:] It's me! Come in!

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[Twelve year old George is skinny. Not scrawny, just a bit underfed and overworked. His hair is uncombed, and he looks a little dirty. He gazes down at her.]

You're tiny!

Spam!

[thebestnose.livejournal.com]

So? I can still beat you! [She holds up the nearest object- a shoe- and grips it threateningly.]

And I'm really not tiny! I'm twenty!

Re: Spam!

[19centconstable.livejournal.com]

[He shrinks back. He knows from his trillions of aunts just how scary women can be, regardless of size.]

I didn't mean...you talk like you're bigger!