i saw two little kids on a goddamn leash (a leash. not a harness. a leash) at the post office. in fact, i got to see these two little kids on a leash for approx 20 minutes, because the kensington post office in brooklyn NY is the most efficiently run and well organized place in the universe. by which i actually mean i hope you die. anyway: this poor kid was screaming (probably upset because HE WAS ON A LEASH). then he got tangled up on the little poles of the line divider. then he continued to scream. his mother didn’t really do anything. nor could she because she had two 5 year olds on a leash on one hand and a baby in a papoose on her chest. (potential solution: get less babies?)
then the woman in front of me, who appeared to be mailing some sort of care package to vanaatu or some other fictional guam-like place (speculation: i could only sort of read the address slip), who also had a baby, who also started yelling (sympathy strike), her baby threw its yellow balloon at this first baby. who was quiet for a moment and obviously, the balloon was the one fucking thing that would solve the whole problem. but then it rolled away and i picked it up. i gave it back to vanaatu-package lady whom i hoped might give it to the first screaming kid (his name was mohammed, but his mother spoke and looked west indian. go figure). but instead she gave it back to her baby who didn’t care about the balloon.
the upshot: i don’t know. i started to return the links to their former comprehension but i got distracted. if i forgot you, let me know. if not, don’t.
Pete Beatty 