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In Step with America's Little People
Of course, that was back before Swine Flu reared its piggy head to frighten the world. Back before torture was officially called torture.
Back when Plasticopians were still innocent, and the world was a kinder, softer place.
Whoosh!
It's a dark and stormy night.
But inside, all is calm. Supper is over, the dishes neatly tucked away.
Betty is planning the next week's meals while America plays nearby.
The older children are doing homework -- good obedient Anna in the livingroom.
The other two in the quiet of their rooms...
Oh, my. That doesn't look like homework. Poor dear sweet little Alice, so easily distracted from the straight and narrow path that her sister trods with such a sure tread. What is to become of her?
And Henry? I'm afraid he finds school entirely irrelevant; that term paper seems very dull indeed when his latest love interest is only a phone call away.
Yes, it is life as usual in the Ratchet household as the clock strikes eight.
None suspecting that their very ordinary lives are about to change, for at that very moment a stranger stands upon their doorstep, seeking shelter from the storm.
To be continued....CHAPTER 32: A STRANGER IN THE HOUSE
(Episode 9)
It is a quiet evening at the Ratchet home, in spite of the storm raging outside. It is also Barbie's 50th birthday. Not that the Ratchets would notice. They are non-believers and so don't celebrate the occasion.
At precisely eight p.m., Laskan time, there is a rap at the front door. The sound is nearly lost in the chiming of the cuckoo clock and the wail of the wind heard through the walls.
She opens the door. A cloaked figure greets her, the face lost in the shadows of the hood.
"Hello," says the stranger through teeth that chatter from the cold. "I'm lost...and chilled through and through...and very hungry. I wonder if I could come in and warm myself for just a moment."After her initial surprise, Anna remembers her manners. "Of course. Come in."
"Thank you."As the stranger steps into the entry, the cloak falls open, revealing what is beneath...or rather, what isn't.
Anna's eyes are as big as saucers and her mouth hangs open.
The stranger jerks the cloak back into place. "What's the matter? Haven't you ever seen anyone in their birthday suit before?"
"Not in this weather. No wonder you're so cold."
"Well I was on my way to a bathing party..." Having thus explained, the stranger glances around. "Nice maison. Are you the only one home?""Oh?"
"Just with a moment's shelter from the storm. And perhaps I could use your phone? I believe that my life may be in grave danger."
"Your life will be in grave danger if you are flashing my children."
"Flashing?"
Betty hands over America before turning to confront the stranger.
"My daughter says you're wearing nothing but your birthday suit. Isn't that what you said, Anna?"
"Under the cloak, Mom."
"A bathing suit?!"
"My birthday suit. I was born wearing it. I'm not ashamed to be seen this way. It's how the Great Manufacturer made me."
"But why are you wearing it on a day like this...oh, I get it! You're one of those Barbie groupies. You're going to a Barbie-look-alike contest.""Me? No, I am Barbie. Barbara, really, but no one calls me that."
"Ha! Then what are you doing here?"
"Seeking help! I think someone is trying to do me harm. Oh, please, can you help me?"
To be continued...
It was my good fortune recently to stumble upon a small overlooked community in the heart of my own neighborhood. The inhabitants invited me into their homes and shared their histories with me. My heart was touched. Hitherto these people have had no voice. Unaccountably ignored by telemarketers and pollsters alike, it is nevertheless apparent that we have much to learn from them. They are truly America's little people, their joys and plights mirroring the country at large.
I am not an anthropologist. Nor am I experienced in making documentaries. Yet I could not help but see how much we have to learn from these amazing individuals, and so set myself about the business of bringing their stories to the world.
America, welcome to Plasticopia!
Credits
Produced in beautiful Anchorage, Alaska.