Solid Baby

Goddamn, you are a well-dressed baby, Nephew on the Dead.

“I have a natural eye. This season, I’m all about mixing vintage with ironic.”

Awesome.

“I also have dogs on my knees.”

That is both true and adorable.

“Uncle?”

Yeah, buddy?

“All my clothes are bright-colored and have dinosaurs and bulldozers and giraffes all over them. But, like, no adults dress like that.”

They don’t.

“Why not?”

No idea. Absolutely no idea. We should. It would make every facet of existence better. There should be spaceships and dragons on every stitch of clothing, including military uniforms. The navy could have duckies, and the Army could have horsies, and everyone would just walk around all day being amused by one another’s pants. It’s a paradise I’m describing here, Nephew.

“Uh-huh. Question.”

Shoot.

“And don’t be offended.”

You could never, buddy.

“Are you the weird one in the family?”

Oh, yeah. By a large margin. There’s not even a runner-up, really. All other adults in the clan have lingering and active doubts about my influence on you.

“Awesome.”

Right?

“Will you buy me beer?”

Now?

“No. Wait, would you?”

No. I would order you a shandy, maybe. But that’s a summer drink. Maybe a spritzer, but no that’s also too summery–

“Forget I asked.”

Done.

“Where does the garbage go?”

Oh, is that what you’re doing?

“Me and The Guy are gonna take out the garbage. There’s a door in the wall and the bag goes in there and then…well, there’s my perimeter of my knowledge. Makes a spectacular noise. I was thinking that when I get a little bigger, I should chuck a bunch of stuff in there.”

Do not do that, Nephew.

“I’m absolutely going to. The garbage hatch is mysterious and wonderful, and the handle is shiny. Shiny is nice. The noises, once again, are top-grade. Could listen to those noises for hours. Put the bag in. Where does it go? I do not know, and therefore I love the garbage hatch.”

The trash just falls into a dumpster, buddy. There’s no mystery to it.

“A dumpster? And then where?”

A garbage truck.

“New York’s Sanitation Department is the least respected and most necessary branch of the civil service.”

You’ll get no argument here.

“Where does the garbage go after the truck?”

A processing plant.

“What happens there?”

The garbage is processed.

“And then?”

Having undergone processes, the garbage is placed on a sub-type of barge known as a scow.

“And then?”

Scow goes to a landfill.

“What’s a landfill?”

We dig a hole and throw trash in it.

“Dig a hole? That’s our solution to unwanted refuse? Bury it and walk away?”

Oh, no. You can’t walk away. If you leave a landfill alone, it becomes a giant trash-bomb.

“The corpus of humanity’s daily life must be tended to and appeased, lest it erupt with murderous fury? Has anyone else noticed the metaphor?”

Several have. None were listened to.

“The human condition.”

Oui.

“Dude, you see this blackberry?”

The one on the floor?

“Yeah.”

Yeah.

“I’m gonna eat the shit out of that.”

Go to it, Nephew.