It was very cold and windy out this weekend. So what does she want to do? Play outside by herself. As in, being by herself, all alone, living in the wild is part of the game… I was huddled up in a blanket on the porch, watching her run around in the back yard for a while before I finally went to try and convince her to come inside…
“My name is Yonda; I’m what you call a Honeymoon Kid” she told me. She said her parents were killed when she was only two and… she had to watch. They were killed by the smallest… giant dinosaur monster while she hid behind fallen down skyscrapers (and there was something about “not quite a trapezoid”?). It was particularly sad because she said, if they hadn’t been killed, her family would never die. They were not quite immortal (because they could be killed) but they just never grow old and die. They were “forever young”.
I invited this young Honeymoon Kid into the house and promised food and warmth. She eventually acquiesced. Once inside she accepted our kindnesses, food, and drink, and regaled us with harrowing stories of her tragic life and the horrible “Devilweed” family who were her old neighbors where she used to get food. There was Sherman-Lester and Emily Devilweed, the little bother and sister who threw poop in her face and called her poopface. They even told her a knock knock joke where “Yonda with poop on her face” was the punchline.
Do you know why they were mean to her? Because she was “a little different from them.” How sad is that?
But after taking some supplies including graham crackers and and a hand towel back to her home in the wild, she returned to assure me that we had made her life better and that she was happy where she was, living in the wild… as a Honeymoon Kid.