HUMOR
Teddy Bear Torture, The Game
a game my sister and I invented
On road trips in childhood, my sister often brought stuffed animal friends to keep her company. Mr. Bear, for example. I would say, “Excuse me, may I hold Mr. Bear?”
This question was the beginning of our game.
“Sister?” I said.
“Yes, brother?”
“May I please hold Mr. Bear.”
“I don’t know,” said Meg. “What about what happened last time?”
Last time, I’d punched him in the throat to distract him then pressed my thumbs into his eyes, temporarily blinding him.
“That,” I said, “was a long time ago. Let me hold him?”
“It was a week ago.” This was her agreeing with me. In youth, a week is another word for forever.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking since then” — I rubbed my temples counterclockwise, which is difficult to fake if you’re not truly sorry or at least very good at faking — “and I’m truly sorry. Believe me.”
Meg made Mr. Bear tremble with terror, but she also made him turn his head in my…