I'll Show You Mine…


"Wanna come over after school?" said the little girl.

The little boy made a face. "Ewww. I don't like your house. It's creepy."

"MY house is creepy? YOU live in this gross old hotel that doesn't even have any people in it!"

"Does so!" protested the little boy. "Aunt Fred and Uncle Lorne, and Mommy, and…"

The girl smiled. "I like your mommy," she said. "When I slept over that one time, she helped me check under the bed for monsters."

The boy blinked. "Well, of course she did. Why wouldn't she?"

"MY mommy always says I am being silly. That there is no such thing as monsters under the bed."

"Oh, there is such a thing," said the boy. "But they aren't really that scary. They're so small that Daddy says you only need a very little sword, and if you're careful, you can get 'em all chopped up without even getting blood and guts all over yourself."

The girl's eyes widened, and he looked down, kicking a pebble with his foot.

"And anyway, you didn't think my hotel was so creepy at my birthday party!"

"Cause you had loot bags, stupid. And cake from a store. MY mommy always bakes her own cakes. She says it must be nice to have so much money to buy fancy cake from a store like that."

The boy frowned, and she hastily reassured him. "Plus it was a cool party. How neato was that, when your Uncle Lorne dressed up as a funny green monster and made goofy faces at us?"

The little boy shrugged, looking suddenly uncomfortable. She looked away, poking at the leaves as they walked toward the picnic tables.

Finally, she found a spot and sat down, pulling a spoon and a tupperware container out of her bag.

"Ewwww," she complained, tapping at the lid with a grimace of disgust. "Pasta salad. You want some?"

The boy leaned over and sniffled cautiously. "Nope," he said. "Smells like garlic. Can't have garlic."

"Why not?"

"Not allowed cause Daddy's way allergic. If he even smells it, he goes all 'grrrrr.'"

She frowned. "What does that mean?"

"That's what Mommy calls it. She says it's one of those funny things, and that Daddy's a real funny guy sometimes. I think that's why she loves him so much."

She glanced at his lunch bag. "Well, what have you got?"

"Leftovers. Sashimi, looks like. Oh, and California rolls."

The girl giggled. "Your family is soooo weird," she said. So, you wanna come over? Mommy made cupcakes…"

"I don't like cupcakes," he said. "Your house has yucky snacks. No thanks."

"Yucky snacks? YOUR mom gives you lunch with seaweed, and your dad is always on that tomato soup diet. It's icky. It looks like blood."


She puffed up her chest, clearly the superior one. "So MY dad isn't like that. He's really handsome, and strong, and my mom is wonderful, and beautiful, and…"

"MY mom is beautiful too," he said. "And my dad could so kick your dad's butt anytime he wanted to."

"My daddy says it isn't nice to fight," said the girl.

"My daddy says that too," he admitted. "He says you should only fight someone if they start it first AND if they are bigger than you and have claws or spikes or something. And even then, you should try your words first because they might not be evil and they can kick your ass."

She giggled. "You said ass!" she marveled.


"So, MY dad never says that. He only goes to an office and has meetings and stuff. And my mom stays home and makes cupcakes and drives me places."

"Well, MY mom doesn't need to drive," he said smugly. "She can fly."

"Silly, we ALL can fly. You might have a whole huge hotel of your own, but you haven't got an airport too!"

"Right," he said.

"So you wanna come over?" she tried once more.

He shook his head. "Sorry, I can't. It's Tuesday. I have fencing lessons on Tuesday."

"Fencing? What's that?"

"Oh, playing with swords and stuff."

She gave him a funny look. "Fencing, huh? You do really weird things sometimes."

"Fencing's not weird," he said. "It's cool. Daddy does fencing. Mommy does it too, even."

She looked unconvinced.

"Sometimes, Mommy and Daddy do fencing together," he told her. "THAT is a real good time."

"Well, that's okay then," she decided. "My mommy says it's nice when married people do stuff together."

The boy shook his head. "They do stuff together that's gross sometimes. They kiss and stuff."

"Well, I think that's cute. My parents only kiss after they do fighting. They yell real loud. It makes my ears hurt."

"My parents don't yell when they fight," said the boy. "They just throw swords and knives and stuff."

She swatted his arm. "Don't say that! You're always teasing!"

"Well, why wouldn't they? What else do you do with swords and knives? That's why you need to take fencing lessons."

The girl made a face. "Boys are so stupid. Why do they care about this stuff? It's stupid."

"It's not just boys," he argued. "Mommy knows just as much about stuff as I do. She knows almost as much as Daddy, even. She says as long as I'm careful and don't hurt anybody or get slime and entrails all over myself, I'm big enough to do whatever I…"

"Ewwwww," groaned the little girl.

"What? She only means that she does enough laundry and cleaning with the stuff that Daddy gets into that she doesn't need ME to…"

She shook her head. "You're teasing. You're just a silly boy."

"I'm not silly," he insisted, eyes dark and proud. "Mommy's right. If you're gonna have knives and swords around, you should know what to do with them."

"I guess. So you wanna come over another day?"


She shrugged, trying to look as if she didn't really care.

"Okay," she said. "Well, have fun at your fencing lesson."

"Uh huh. Next time you come over, I'll let you see my sword if you want to."


He walked away, leaving the little girl alone with her juice box and carrot sticks. He was a very strange boy, but she sort of liked him. But---boys and their swords---what was up with that?

The end