Dabs had retreated so far, he had found himself in his mental handball court as thoughts bounced off the three walls of his brain with inertia, some escaping through his missing wall into his inner space. He used everything he had to keep the balls in motion, but with the logic of physics they hurled past his sensibilities with angry speed. How could he get out of this? He hit it over and again each time with a new angle or spin, yet the dilemma always bounced back at him with more force. Tired of the game, Dabs sunk to the floor, really needing a nap.
Just a little siesta…Five more minutes, Mom.
He coiled his body revealing a half-moon, as he turned his mind’s eye around to face his own darkness. He remained motionless, until he felt a cold poke up his assemblage.
An old man in red suspenders stood over Dabs, as the cane kept at Dabs.
With a little curtsy, Egghead conducted the introductions, “Mr. Milne this is Mr. Dabs. Mr. Dabs this is Mr. Milne.
“I don’t want to see the crack in your foundation.” The man said as if he could shake the sight of Dabs away. “There are innocents here who don’t need to see that.” He nudged Dabs again, who slithered into a more protective position.
Egghead leaned over him real close and said, “Yeah that means NO ASS CRACK!”
Ignoring the scene on the floor, Mr. Milne went to Noodle.
“I don’t know he had some kind of breakdown.” Noodle said. “You’re telling me that’s the new Edna?” Mr. Milne whistled along whine between his teeth.
Hearing that, Dabs composed himself with a cough. “It’s just low blood sugar thing. Could you spare some orange juice?”
“We don’t have any orange juice.” Noodle said.
“What about a little fruit?” Dabs said.
“Don’t have any fruit either.” Noodle turned back to the kitchen rolling his eyes. “But we do have a little fruit on the floor.”
Mr. Milne, with his hearing aid off, chuckled all the way to his table.
Egghead patted Dabs on the head and offered a few sweet n’ low packets from her purse.