Cool, Calm & Contentious - Merrill Markoe [72]
“Exactly,” said Puppyboy. “And, I would like to point out, I bring the balls right to you. You don’t have to move even an inch. For instance, right now, I see you lying there by your newspapers, intending to go back to sleep. So … very quietly … I will drop a ball on top of your chest … a pre-emptive strike that will turn your boring, monotonous life into a Technicolor 3-D videogame!”
“You don’t seem to comprehend that when I am sleeping, I am not bored,” I said. “And when I am reading, I am not bored. Well, sometimes I am. But the important thing here is that for you to insist that I change my whole orientation to the one that interests you makes you selfish. Not me.”
“Hold on a second,” said Pup. “You have it backwards. When you are just sitting in a container of water, doing nothing, you are placing your needs ahead of everyone else’s. Everyone else probably wants to go for a walk, which is about survival and hunting and marking territory. And there you are, for no good reason lying down in a container of water.”
“Wrong,” I said, sitting up, finally realizing that going back to sleep was not going to be possible. “Bathing is part of survival. And, Ginger, I have asked you twice now to get off of my newspaper. I haven’t finished reading all of today’s horrible stories.”
“I’m still not sure why you aren’t grateful that I do this,” said Ginger. “Why do you even want to read about things that are horrible?”
“By the way: BREAKFAST!” said Hedda. “I just thought I’d put that out there. For discussion or whatever.”
“I read about horrible things, Ginger, because it’s part of my responsibility as a member of society to keep abreast of what is going on, no matter how upsetting,” I said. “In today’s world we are all part of one big ecosystem that connects us to one another. So to honor this I need to know about the confusing and horrifying things that people are doing all over the planet.”
“Ah. I see,” said Ginger. “And once you know about these things, are you going to bring them all here to the house to live so you can fix them? Like you want to do with the pelicans?”
“Well, no …” I said. “Usually I just sign an online petition or something.”
“What does that do?” asked Ginger.
“Gives a bunch of spammers my email address,” I said. “But my only other option is to donate money to a charity where I have no way of knowing if it goes to pay for environmental cleanup or to buy a case of Mountain Dew Code Red for some teenage volunteer.”
“Then why bother at all?” said Puppyboy. “Especially when there is a satisfying and rousing game of ball directly in front of you?”
“Because I would feel selfish if I didn’t,” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to teach you guys today. We all need to be out there on the front lines, telling the truth about evil. We should be in the Congo and the Sudan protecting the innocent, bringing food to the children of Darfur or aid to the earthquake victims of Haiti, and when we’re done with all that, there are oil-soaked pelicans to clean … the very ones who I hope will soon be living with us here at this house.”
“Which reminds me: breakfast!” said Hedda. “Just throwing that out there again.”
“And also: you can’t leave,” said Ginger. “Who would be here to open the cans for us?”
“Believe me, I’ve used your total dependency on me as an excuse for staying home far too often,” I admitted, rolling over onto my other side so I could avoid their needy stares. “We’re all very selfish. And we live in a selfish, amoral world. The implications of this stuff are so far-reaching and upsetting that right now I’m going back to sleep for the rest of the day.”
I had no sooner pulled the pillow over my head than I heard the loud tearing and crunching sound of Ginger digging a hole in the center of my carefully folded New York Times. In seconds she had made herself a comfortable nest of shredded paper.
“For the last time, Ginger: Get off my newspapers. NOW!” I shouted.