Infernal Monologue

The Day I Almost Was Buzz Lightyear

So I was at school today, chatting with some folks about the election results, when my friend Lane came by and asked me to stop by his office; he had a big favor to ask me.

Now, Lane has helped me out a few times when I've locked myself out of my office, so I'm pretty sure I owe him more than a few favors. So when he said he needed a favor, I was a little worried; there wasn't really an upper limit to his potential request. He could ask me to scrape rabid cockroaches off of a bus station urinal with my fingernails, and I'd pretty much be honor-bound to agree.

When I finally stopped by to see what he needed, his first words were "Are you planning on having children?" Needless to say, that didn't reassure me too much.

When I told him yes, he remarked that one day I may need call on someone to perform a similar service. I still wasn't reassured, but I was confused now, and that was somehow a little better.

Lane explained that his two-and-a-half year old son was being potty trained, and is also (coincidentally, I assume) a big Buzz Lightyear fan. Lane reported that little Emilio had finally been taught to use the loo, and had successfully done so three whole times in one day. I was, I think, suitably impressed.

Lane explained that that meant that Emilio would therefore be gotten Buzz Lightyear underpants to encourage him that visiting the WC was worth turning into a habit. (This surprised me. I recalled the Spider-Man UnderRoos I proudly wore as a kid; I now saw them in a new light. I was part of the lie.)

Lane continued to say that as a special treat, he wanted to have "Buzz Lightyear" call Emilio and congratulate him on his achievement, but he was worried that Emilio would recognize his voice on the phone. Sooo.....

Let's recap. I'm being asked to:
-- call up a little kid,
-- lie through my teeth about who I am, and
-- talk about using the bathroom, all with parental approval.

I was on it.

So, I whipped up a little script (link below), and Lane called home. I said hi to Emilio's mom, who handed the phone over to Little Britches, saying something to the effect of, "Hey, Emilio, guess who's on the phone? It's Buzz Lightyear."

Big mistake, Mom. All I can hear is screaming and crying. I can't get started on my script, because I can't hear my own voice. Mom comes back on, tries to get Emilio back on the phone, but he won't stop crying. We'll try again in a little bit, Mom says.

I was a little hurt. I had been led to believe that the kid liked Buzz Lightyear.

Mom calls back to let Lane and I know that Little Britches had gotten a little overexcited at the sudden prospect of a phone call from a Space Ranger. So excited, in fact, that he had a minor accident. So we had to postpone Buzz phone time to an unspecified later date. Oh well. Keep up the good work, Emilio. To the bathroom and beyond!

If you're so inclined (and I don't want to know if you are), you can check out the script I wrote here. It's in Microsoft Word 2003 format. (Also, I do so know how to spell pee-pee and poo-poo; they're just in Spanish.)

Posted by infernalmonologue at November 3, 2004 7:10 PM