Scene 1: Structure of Language

Chapter 32: Sounds

March 1986

“For real life? The castle park,” is what Johnny meant to say. His Dad, fluent child translator as he was, heard “For weel wife? Tha cass-wool pock?!”

His usual bolt to the park was amped-up to a full-on sprint. Johnny skipped the usual pause to admire the weak stream barely visible beneath the wooden bridge he was trampling.

Finding his first unsuspecting would-be-friend, “I'm Jaawny, dat's my daaad.”

“Oh, hi,” said between darting eyes, “my mom's over there.”

“Con we pway?”

“Sure!”

“Let's pway daiguns!” Little Johnny yelled, arms flailing as wings and his mouth spitting imaginary flames before their new playmate could even grasp the game.

In a burst of confusion and enthusiasm, the new friend raced toward Johnny, tagged him, and then dashed back in the direction he had come from.

“Nooooo, not taaaaag,” Johnny protested, stopping his pyrotechnics. “Daiguns, let's pway daiguns.”

It didn't take long for the now non-friend to cower behind his mom. They left soon after.

Discovering would-be-friend number 2, Johnny announced, “Con we be fwends?” Each word came out in stuttered breaths, as loud as the passing syllables. “Let's pway!”

“Pay for what? I'm not buying anything” the other boy replied, his tone dripping with adulated cynicism usually reserved for later years.

“Nooooo, pway! Let's pway!”

“Uh, no thanks. We're busy,” a dismissive response shot out leaving a green stench tail.

With their head down and arms swinging like the opposing pendulums of two thwarted clocks, Johnny slumped on the bench beside his father.

“Dad,” he said, his voice taking on an uncharacteristic drawl, “can you pway wiff me?” He looked up, already knowing the answer. It wasn't the first time. It wouldn’t be the last. This magic headset and small box always made his dad's ears impervious to small voices.

Johnny sat motionless as his dad's head bobbed hypnotically, eyes closed, as if he were constantly fighting to stay asleep.

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