Making Fun Of Someone's Disability...

Making Fun of Someone’s Disability...

 

Pedro’s office was a throwback to the olden days: before the second great flood; when the ice caps melted and the human population was pruned back from the face of the realm, like twigs on an unruly shrub. Paintings of masked heroes adorned the walls, beside images of tinned soup and sunflowers. A sculpture of a muscle bound young man - so immersed in his thoughts he had not one to spare for his attire (or notable lack thereof) - ignored another of a shorter, more rotund fellow, clothed in cap and dungarees, wielding a cartoon approximation of a flower. The plain white walls were well lit and the air was filled by a sombre melody, which emanated from a revolving black plate in the corner of the room. On the far wall a bookcase held publications, far too numerous to list here, and beside the bookcase another cabinet held an equally numerous range of liquids; the bottles containing them appearing as priceless as the fluids themselves. Pedro pointed down at Xanti’s feet.

‘Shoes please, matey...’ he said. Xanti looked confused for a moment until he noticed the shiny polished nature of the varnished wood flooring.

‘Oh yes... Of course, Uncle...’ Pedro winked as Xanti undid his laces and slid off his shoes. He held up a hand as Xanti began to pull down his socks.

‘Pull yer socks up son, you won’t be here that long!’ Embarrassed, Xanti did as he was told without a word. ‘Come and take a load off, eh?’ He said pointing at the modestly sized leather recliner parked in front of his desk. He himself took a seat in a larger chair on the other side, otherwise styled not too dissimilarly from Xanti’s. ‘...Drink?’ he offered. Xanti’s throat had become as parched as the Endless Desert the moment he set foot inside the room.

‘Um... yeah, sure...’

‘...Which reminds me,’ Pedro gestured towards the young lady in the black dress. From this distance Xanti could see that the design that hemmed the dress’s fishy seam had a reddish tint to it. ‘Xanti, meet Kaylee. Kaylee, Xanti.’ Kaylee threw a curt nod in Xanti direction, seemingly unhindered by the matching blindfold that covered her eyes. Flustered he pointed at the fish and attempted to speak:

‘Ha... Red herrings?’ he managed with a squeak. He coughed, trying poorly to introduce some bass into his voice. ‘My voice doesn’t normally do that...’ he whimpered, his confidence draining with every word.  She cocked her head.

‘What?’ It was the hair; the colour and the length that brought to mind someone dear to him. Xanti shifted in his seat, feeling all of a sudden very uncomfortable. Pedro noticed this.

‘On yer dress, girl! The fishes...’ Pedro explained, shaking his head. Kaylee looked down at herself and then nodded with a frown; comprehending.

‘I hadn’t noticed...’ she told Xanti with a shrug. She pointed at the black material covering her eyes. ‘What with being blind an’ all...’ Xanti’s brow furrowed as he struggled to comprehend the world around him...

‘Of course not...’ he managed with a whisper. ‘How silly of me...’

‘Two teas please, Kaylee!’ Pedro interrupted, breaking Xanti’s already shaky train of thought.

‘Two teas, Uncle?’ Kaylee replied in a sing-song manner.

‘Yes please, two teas!’ Pedro finished, imitating her intonation but adding a fleck of sarcasm, all of his own.

‘Coming right up’, she confirmed, clapping her hands together and then rubbing them with a hint of anticipation.

‘I don’t normally like hot drinks...’ Xanti ventured timidly. Pedro brushed aside his concern, with a flippant wave of his hand.

‘Nah, neither do I’. He agreed. Xanti nodded momentarily satisfied, before fixing his mouth to say something in amendment. ‘Its iced tea, son’ said Pedro, answering the unspoken question before flashing what Xanti guessed was Pedro’s approximation of a reassuring grin.

‘Ah...’ nodded Xanti, happy once more. ‘I only ask because...’ he glanced at Kaylee who  busy preparing the drinks - her back turned to them - and then waved a hand in front of his own face, referring to her supposed ocular impairment. Pedro nodded once with a thin smile, putting a bony finger of caution to his lips.

‘What are you two whispering about then?’ asked Kaylee, setting down placemats and then their drinks on top of them. Xanti opened his mouth but no words were forthcoming. Pedro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

‘You actually; Your whole “well I’m blind aren’t I,” la-de-dah... It’s a classic that never fades!’ At this, Kaylee slapped her hands onto her hips, cocking her head to the side with a pout.

‘Well it’s not my fault I can’t see the colour of a rainbow or the shine of a setting sun or...’ As she spoke Pedro lip-synced her words flawlessly.

‘But you can see this though, can’t you...’ He held up a hand, rubbing his forefinger back and forth across his thumb...

‘Measuring something are we?’ she quipped.

‘...Oi!’ Pedro’s demeanour changed as the world’s smallest violin became a steel rod of accusation. ‘Watch yerself, girl,’ He gestured with his head in Xanti direction. ‘...there are minors present.’ Kaylee’s eyes narrowed as her lips pursed. ‘No offence...’ Xanti shook his head, as if none had been taken. Kaylee however clamped her teeth together, drawing air across her molars.

‘It’s not funny, you know,’ she spat, bubbling with rage. ‘Making fun out of someone’s disability!’ Pedro eyes rolled behind closed lids as he took a deep, steadying breath...

‘Please just go and sit down, Kaylee...’ She skinned her teeth and shook her head. Retreating, she muttered under her breath as she went:

‘Stand here, sit there, make the drinks, and watch yerself! How the bloody hell am I meant to watch myself, I can’t see a bloody thing can I?’ She half jumped, half threw herself down onto a white leather sofa, before scooping up an open book on the floor beside her. She ran a finger across the page, reading the indentations as she went. ‘Appy now?’ she shouted across the room.

‘Ecstatic...’ sighed Pedro before taking a sip of his drink. ‘Very well made, by the way Kaylee...’ He shouted approvingly and then held his drink in the air, urging Xanti to do the same. ‘A toast, me boy; to Little Voices...’ he began before lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘And the blooming great big mouths that come with ‘em!’ Xanti knocked his glass against Pedro’s with a clink and then downed a mouthful of the multi-hued liquid. His face contorted as the unfamiliar taste began set his tongue on fire! He was able to swallow the odd smelling drink - as opposed to expelling it all over Pedro’s expensive looking desk, just as every fibre of his being had demanded – but only just... Pedro could barely contain his amusement, his shouldering shaking as he imbibed an equal measure with relative ease. Xanti coughed and spluttered, struggling to breathe.

‘This...tea, tastes a bit... different, Pedro...’ he said, wiping his mouth as he placed the glass back down on its mat. Pedro shrugged and then took another, normal sized sip from his own glass. It was only now that Xanti noticed the tiny herrings engraved on the pair of them. Or had they been there all along? He couldn’t remember... and felt like the room was beginning to spin. He began to trust Pedro less and less...

‘Well it would do, son,’ said Pedro, flashing him another toothy smile with a twitchy wink. ‘It’s from Long Island!’  He said, bursting into laughter. For what felt like the hundredth time in as many seconds; Xanti had absolutely no idea what Pedro was talking about. ‘Funny people, those Long Islanders; they never do anything by half measures... You hear that Kaylee? Half measures?’

‘Diamond, Pedro’ she muttered, never taking her finger off of the page. ‘You should become a Playwright or a Bard or summink...’

‘Maybe I should, my dear,’ he replied, taking another sip of his Iced Tea. ‘But enough about me, son’ he said returning Xanti to the centre of his attention. ‘You, were gonna tell me everything you know about those Little Voices, I’ve heard so much about...’