The ugly child

We took great satisfaction in Andrew and Kristy having an ugly child. Being one of the more attractive couples throughout high school, it was widely assumed that they would go to college and find lucrative jobs and marry each other and spawn more in their likeness and they did all of that except the last, when their first child grew to be the weirdly mushy misshapen thing that it was. My own child was a quiet thing, but I encouraged him to shove this child around and call it ugly, and he did at first, because he was an obedient boy.

But then my child and the ugly child became friends, to my horror. I don't even know how it happened. One day my wife told me our child was to have a new playmate and I said ok, fine, and I was puttering around in the backyard and my kid runs out there being chased by none other than Andrew and Kristy's ugly child! I was stunned -- I started yelling at them, about what I don't know, running around the backyard I guess, but it was just a cover because I was so mortified and I had to yell something.

A little later they were playing with dolls up in the guest room (the guest room being the only place he is allowed to play with dolls, because it is cold and cramped and unpleasant up there, and we feel like we can wean him off dolls this way) and I pulled my son aside and took him into my bedroom (a special privilege because we don't allow him in their normally -- I saw his eyes get all big and glassy when I walked him in) and explained to him that I know a lot of this didn't make sense now, but there were some people he just could not afford to be friends with. And though it might seem natural to a nice boy like him to be nice to even the ugliest of children, what he didn't yet know is that these friendships will cost him respect, friends, lovers, jobs. My child asked me who I was talking about -- he truly had no idea what damage his friendship with the ugly child was doing to his reputation, and how easily he could turn it into a positive simply by ASSERTING HIS DOMINANCE. I told him that as soon as we were done talking, he was to lead his new friend into the bathroom and push him into the toilet. I would go in there now and leave the seat up for him -- all he would have to do was find some way to lure the ugly child in there, position him in front of the toilet and give him one strong shove. He should take care to watch his friend's head -- he wasn't to injure the ugly child; he was only to do what he could to ensure that at least one part of his body would land in the bowl.

But before I could relay the last of these instructions, the doorbell rang and it was Andrew and Kristy, the two of them here to pick up their ugly child and bring it home. I instructed the children to clean up their dolls and then come downstairs. Andrew and Kristy and I had a conversation in the front hall. We discussed the relative merits of our respective children. They praised their ugly child's grades and intellectual curiosity; I praised my son's strong jaw and clear blue eyes. They expressed relief that a child as ugly as theirs had found a friend. I told them that I had discovered that the entire playdate had been an elaborate scheme by my own child to push theirs into the toilet, but that in the course of the day they had forged a true friendship. Kristy started to weep. "There's nothing in the books about loving an ugly child," she said, mascara running down her cheeks.

We heard several loud thumps coming from above us. I leapt up the stairs three steps at a time, hopeful my son had pushed the ugly child in the toilet, or knocked him into the hamper. As soon as I reached the top there was another crash, and I saw my son crawling on his hands and knees out of the guest room, dazed, with a string of blood and phlegm hanging from his nose.

I ran into the guest room, shoved my son aside and demanded the ugly child tell me what had happened. The ugly child calmly explained that my son had refused his request to lend him one of my son's most cherished dolls, and so the ugly child had grabbed his arm and whipped him into the closet doors. My pitiful son crawled away, in the direction of his room. I asked him, did he not realize he was nothing more than a fat ugly little troll? He said don't talk to me like that, I'm going to be a powerful businessman some day, and pulled some play money out of his pocket and threw it in my face. Andrew and Kristy stumbled up the stairs; I turned around and saw them kicking my son in the ribs and legs. He just moaned and rolled over, presenting his back. I took a swing at the ugly child but he ducked and grabbed my arm and sunk his teeth into it. I went to kick him, but I realized, what are we doing? I patted the ugly child on the head, softly, until he released.

I smiled down at the ugly child and took his hand and we walked out to where Andrew and Kristy were brutalizing my son. I patted the ugly child on the back now and let him go. I grabbed my own child up by the hair with the intention of hoisting him over the banister and throwing him onto the first floor but to my surprise the ugly child did not follow me, and set upon his own parents, punching their legs, biting their hands. I dropped my moaning son; what was this? Andrew and Kristy could have overpowered their ugly child -- Andrew, in particular, was much stronger, but it's difficult to punch your own child, even when he punches you, and even when he's ugly. My own son crawled into his room and shut the door. I heard him softly crying against the flimsy wall. Someday though my son will understand what happened in that hallway, and why it was important, and why I stayed out there to watch.