Smokey Mountain Breakdown

The television was blaring in the living room when Tarn came in from weed-whacking.

He liked weed-whacking. It was probably his favorite thing to do outside. He liked taking the lawn mower apart too. But weed-whacking was better. He liked the way the invisible line seemed to make the weeds fall down. But you couldn't see how it did it.

He wondered for a while how that worked. It was a great mystery.

The boy came in from haying and plopped down on the couch. He was hot and sweaty.

Tarn looked at him from the big overstuffed chair.

"I've been weed-whacking. I like to weed-whack."

"We know, Tarn." Said Buddy, rolling his eyes a bit. "Let's take apart the lawn mower!"

Tarn chewed his lip a moment. He knew he'd get in trouble if he took the lawn mower apart again. He'd just done it yesterday.

"Oh, no you don't!" Hollered Sadie from the kitchen.

Tarn wondered how she seemed to always know what was going through his head.

It was another great mystery. It peeved him, having Sadie know what he was thinking. He sure would like to take apart that lawnmower this evening.

Sadie came into the dining room and put down a plate of biscuits. The food for supper was almost done. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and a slightly sour expression on her face.

"No, Tarn, you are taking a bath tonight. I mean it. It's past time."

Tarn screwed his face up. She had seemed to do it again. He wished she would get out of his head. He didn't know how she did that.

"Took a bath last week." He said.

"And you are taking another tonight." Sadie's tone broached no argument.

Tarn squirmed in his chair. He hated getting wet.

But Sadie was right. Tarn's thinning gray hair was slick with oil and dirt and plastered to his skull. The skin on his neck was dark with ground in dirt. He never really thought he smelled bad. But he sort of did.

He glued his eyes to the television in an attempt to ignore Sadie. A handsome man was on there holding an egg.

"I sure do like eggs." Said Tarn.

The TV man said, "This is your brain."

Tarn looked at it confused for a moment. He knew an egg when he saw one. Not that he didn't like brains. Brains were good, especially scrambled with eggs. The TV man must be confused, he thought. Brains and eggs were good eating so it was easy to confuse the two, thought Tarn.

"That's an egg. I like eggs." He said.

"No, Tarn, that's that there drug commercial." Said Buddy.

The screen cut to a close-up of an egg frying in a frying pan. It was all greasy looking and popping in the pan. Tarn felt his mouth fill with saliva as he imagined the smell of eggs frying in butter, their edges crispy and the yolk runny and done just right.

"This is your brain on drugs." Said the TV man.

"See, Tarn," said Buddy, "he's pretending the egg is your brain and if you take drugs, your brain will fry. Get it?"

Tarn was transfixed by that egg frying. It looked delicious.

"I like eggs. I 'specially likes them when somebody else fries them up for me. Yes, I do."

Buddy rolled his eyes.

The TV man came back on and said, "Any questions?"

Tarn thought the TV man was in his head. He did indeed have a question.

"Can we have fried eggs for supper? 'Cause I sure do like eggs. I really do."