September 13, 2012
Alvin Horst
Eugene Takes a Nap
Eugene tapped his right big toe on the water: Splish! Splish! Splish! Splish!: like the oboe’s woeful wails in the third movement of Beethoven’s Fifth.
“Eerily cold”, he thought, “not like the warm soil under foot.”
He liked the shore, its mud squishing between his toes, picnics in the park, where creepy green bugs land on mustard coated fingers.
He remembered the water on the coast, on summer afternoons, when he would swim and splish and splash.
That water was cold too, but it lacked the chill.
“The water’s fine,” Mr. Tulio shouted, splashing by up to his shins.
Sometimes he would fall in over his head, but he didn’t mind.
He would get up, or just stay in.
Eugene tapped the water again with his left foot. Splash! Splash! Splash!
The orchestra was beginning the fourth movement in the garden park pavilion.
He looked around for Mr.Tulio who had fallen again and was taking a nap.
Eugene thought Mr.Tulio should have a pillow. He splashed out and put a stone under Mr Tulio’s bald head.
They looked like two eggs in a still life.
Eugene fell in and began to doze. Nap time.
He sat up with a start to look at the painting of the eggs.
“It’s upside down,” he spluttered. “Oh well,no one will know. Only me.”
So Eugene smiled and took his nap.