(no subject)

[rivka]

From William Sleator's book Oddballs, a collection of mostly true stories about his family:

One summer evening, a group of us went to a fountain in the park, where there was always a crowd of people watching the patterns of colored lights on the falling water. Vicky had with her a small watermelon, carefully wrapped in a blanket and a frilly bonnet, no rind exposed, so that it resembled a very young baby. With the rest of us strategically placed among the crowd, Vicky cradled the baby in her arms, rocking it, murmuring to it about the pretty fountain. Bystanders smiled.
Then Vicky's voice grew louder. "You don't care about the pretty fountain, do you?" she chided the baby. "You don't care about anything but yourself. I'm getting kind of sick of that, you know?"
People were giving her funny looks. "I can't even go to the park without having to drag you along!" Vicky angrily accused the baby. "And your father never lifts a finger to take care of you. And all you do is make messes and scream and cry and keep me awake at night. I can't stand it anymore!" she cried, her voice becoming hysterical. "I just can't!"
People moved away from Vicky, murmuring. She stepped toward the fountain. "I can't stand it for one more second, I can't, I can't!" she screamed, lifting the baby over the water.
"No! Stop! Don't do it!" several of us shouted, running toward her.
But we were too late. With a demented shriek, Vicky hurled the baby into the shallow fountain, smashing the watermelon into a pulpy red mush. Then we got out of there, fast, before the stunned bystanders noticed the seeds.

Vicky Sleator Wald - my aunt - died yesterday after a long and mysterious illness. I'm sure this is at least part of how she'd like to be remembered.

Comments

[wcg.livejournal.com]

Oh darling... first, my condolences on the loss of your aunt. Second, that's a wonderfully goofy story.