Tobe In The Land of the Twits

Tobe In The Land of the Twits

Tobe’s a hedgehog who’s loyal and true.  He loves little children as all hedgehogs do.  So to no one’s surprise and very little guessing he went off with Joseph to do CPS’ing. 

The first house they went to was really a mess with vermin and roaches and things all upset.  The cupboards were empty with nothing to cook, and the stove was all greasy and covered in soot.  The rats in the bath gave a terrible spook and the toilet so filthy you feared you would puke.  But the bedroom,  -  the bedroom was all shot to pieces with garbage, soiled diapers and animal feces.  

And there in a crib, against a far wall, Tobe heard a sweet voice so soft and so small that he winced just a little before he could look to see a new infant amidst all the gook. 

 He turned to the mom and he yelled “What the hell? Does the word child neglect ring some kind a bell?”  She just shrugged her shoulders annoyed by the fuss, but the pipe Tobe found said more than enough. 

 Without hesitation or any delay Joseph phoned for the police who came right away.  They drove up in cop cars, the ones they call “cruisers” with a big German Shepherd, who I think they called “Bruiser.”  They hooked up the mother and read her a verse and then they drove her away while she continued to curse. 

 Tobe looked at the child with no sense of joy not certain if the tot was a girl or a boy.  The name on the paper gave not a clue as it seemed to be written in a tongue no one knew.  No matter however, a placement was found in a nice foster home that was safe and was sound.  Then it was back to the office to write the report and file a petition to send off  to court, to explain to the judge the dangers of drugs and the who’s its and what’s its of babies and bugs.

While Joseph set forth to recap the mess, Tobe searched all about for a quiet place to rest.

There among the forms, the computers and logs, in between the memos and bureaucratic cogs, he found a little niche in which he could sit and think about the children whose lives turned to shit.  The longer he thought and the more that he sat the sadder he felt for the lives that got shat.  He wondered and pondered as he furrowed his brow the why’s and the where’s and the who’s and the how’s. 

“Abuse” he told Joseph “is a terrible thing - and neglect – just as bad as a bell that won’t ring.  But how does this happen that children get tricked by mothers and fathers that no one would pick?  How do they get here – by what roads and what passes and how can they breathe with their heads up their asses?  Where do they come from – how do they live and why do they keep their brains in a sieve? “

He was flummoxed and flustered as he looked for a clue that could give him a hint why they do what they do.  Then he thought once again as he sat and he sat, just what kind of hole they might habitat.  Is there some curse-ed place, some circle in hell where child abuser might secretly dwell?  Is it dark? Is it dank?  Does it stink like a skunk? He thought and he thought ‘til he thought all he thunk.  

Then there among the bruises and bones that were broken, the concept of parents that were only a token - nestled betwixt the cracks where they fell with the strangest of names that no one could spell, an answer was lurking quiet as mouse but as big as an elephant or maybe a house.  There it sat staring him right in the face, glaring and leering, but holding its place.  Its form was disfigured, its mind was a blank, its gaze soporific its odor quite rank.  With a grin that was toothless and form large and fat it hobbled right over to where Tobe sat.  It extended a hand and in a pigeon like coo said:

“How do you do? My friends call me Stu . Stu Pidity of course if more formal is due.

I thrive on the policies that just never work.   I count on the fact that there is always a jerk who likes to hang out where unicorns lurk,who thinks that psychology is only for nerds and the worst of abuse needs only kind words and that all children can heal with a hope and a prayer and some positive thoughts to chase away scares. 

 Ideology you see, no matter how baseless, is ever so easy when children are faceless, and wishful thinking is all that it takes to over look the more predictable fate of all those kept  waiting at logic’s locked gate.  Knowledge I find is a dangerous thing and the more that there is the more that it stings. I don’t want to think I just want to feel and ignorance you see is the perfect ideal to hide or diguise what’s there and and what’s real.  I want to be liked, to be family friendly – even if things should end up – well deadly. It’s the thought that really counts -  the kind hearted words - and never at all any behaviors observed.  Who cares if their brains are working or busted and if drugs fried minds can no longer be trusted. With a hope and a smile and a quiet little prayer child welfare can go where reason not dare.”

Having spoken his piece no matter how flawed, Stu seemed now content and finally took pause.  Tobe puzzled as he wondered what Rogerian lathe could milled out a piece of so thin a gage that could so mismeassure both science and fact in favor of warm fuzzies and pats on the back.  He did not know what to say or what things to to do, or what words or what points mights get thru to Stu, so he just turned and sighed, resigned there to sit and do the best he could in the land of the twits.