Survival of the Cutest

There are some things that you know as soon as you've done them that you'll regret it. I have a whole theory about this I won't bore you with, but last night was a good example. Krista's room was a good example of maximum entropy--puzzles spilled out on the floor along with little paper bits of Barbie 'pet food', books willy-nilly atop anything they could perch on, paper EVERYWHERE. A mess. Her version of cleaning up is to throw everything into the corner and pile it as high as possible. I got a box.

First into the box were the scraps of paper--a salad of leftover corners and odd curves that weren't the pumpkin or Santa. Although a few pumpkins and Santas didn't make the cut either, and also went into the box.

These things have their own momentum, your honor. Once you start pitching stuff it's hard to stop. Anything on the floor has discard stamped on it. So that's why the old GameBoy went into the box. Normally it wouldn't have happened. Duress, you see.

No, no, I knew what I was doing. I left it there, where it stayed under the cardboard, dried up markers, broken things and unknowns, as I carried the big box out to the trash can in the garage. The box was too big to fit inside, so I set it on top. When I set it down, the GameBoy started singing. Somehow it had turned itself on.

I drowned the sound out with my own loud thoughts and raced back inside. I locked the door and checked to make sure I could see the bolt going into the door. I listened. Nothing.

In the morning, running late as usual, I hauled Krista's backpack and lunch box out to the car. As soon as I opened the door to the garage, the music could be heard, tinny and plaintiff. I knew if Krista heard it there would be trouble, so I swished my coat loudly and banged the door on the way out. I got away with it.

But later, after I had forgotten, I went to go for a bike ride. Still the music played! It was like the Telltale Heart updated to the 21st century. I rode hard until I was exhausted.

When I returned, the cries of the dispossessed machine still begged for attention. I could stand it no more. I dug through the junk in the box until I found it, turned it off, and returned it to Krista's room. At least until the next time I have to clean it.