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.TheWeirdcrap.com © 2004
Notes on Baby-Sitting
by Nils Erwin
I HAD MY FIRST BABY-SITTING JOB THE OTHER NIGHT. It was tough
assignment, 3 kids - 24-hours. The parent was a family friend, Mandy, who seemed to have adopted the absurd notion
that I was the man for the job, and moreover, that I should also be paid handsomely for it. My parents don't even
let me use their car, "That is a leap of faith on par with the Queen Mother loaning out the crown jewels to
street thugs and asking that they please return them when they were finished admiring the craftsmanship, and quite
frankly I'm not prepared to make that leap of faith." My mother would say.
Nevertheless, Mandy offered and I said, "I'll take it!" as though sealing the deal on a property and
she came to pick me up from my house. On the ride over, I wanted to seem sociable, chatty, and community minded;
traits which I thought a good Baby-sitter would posses, except I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just played
with the sun visor and jangled the change in my pocket.
Mandy has three kids, Annie 6, Billy 9 and Rebecca 12 y.o - 2 girls and a boy. They're very nice people, and it's
fun to be around them. Before leaving for overnight trip to the beach, Mandy was giving me the standard babysitter
rap - the phone numbers, the medication, when to feed the dog, bedtimes etc. etc, and I really should have paid
attention, but I just couldn't focus - the two middle buttons on her damn blouse were undone and I could see one
slightly freckled, suntanned breast, spilling out over a cotton bra. After some lengthy disclaimers, she left and
I immediately did a quick scout of my new surroundings, noting liquor coordinates, food surfeit, and the toys which
I'd like to play with later. I then I get set to making dinner. I was lighting up one cooker on the stove and fiddling
with the others, when Billy burst in and proclaimed: "I'm not eating fish, it smells like garbage."
"You should say fetid garbage.... fetid garbage...I love that word 'fetid'. Anyway, well don't eat it then,
I don't care." He looked at me cock-eyed, I could tell he was a little peeved that I had acquiesced; he was
obviously looking for a little babysitter versus kids grudge match and I was having none of it.
"Have some chips and Ice-cream, I checked before there's plenty there, that's what I'm going to have. I'm
no nutritionist but I reckon' you got lots of good stuff in ice-cream - which is from cows, the scared of animal
of the east. The potatoes from chips - the heart of the Russian lifestyle, well actually they mainly the use it
for Vodka, did you know 40% of Russians who some sort of alcohol problem, weird eh?"
"I'm just going to eat some noodles then,"
"Alright suit yourself mate, I think I have some chips."
"Don't eat them all," He cried.
"All the snacks are for school lunches." He said in a theatrical manner. The old 'snacks are for school
lunches' routine, I wasn't buying it.
"Whatever, tell Rebecca and Annie to come and set the table."
There was snickering at dinner. "What is it?" I demanded. The snickering continued. "Alright kids,
you're not living under an iron curtain, spill it!"
"Our curtains are made from fabrics." Rebecca quipped, forking a chip and avoiding any of the fish head
I had served up, which incidentally, Mandy had told me to throw out - as is common practice- but dammit, fishheads
build character. The curtain joke killed everyone, but the laughter soon died when I explained the ramifications
of the iron curtain to those countries under the soviet, and I just might have mentioned potatoes again. I knew
Annie would snap like a twig under pressure so I grabbed the overheat light dangling above the dining table and
shone it directly in her eyes, "Spill the beans sister."
She coughed on her fish, and snorted with giddy laughter, then said: "Billy said you look like a skinny Uncle
Buck." And the all guffawed heartily.
"Oh does he." I mumbled, dammit, I really couldn't think of anything to say. I didn't really even get
the joke, it made no sense.
After dinner everyone loosened up, and I thought about raiding the liquor cabinet, except then I remembered I had
to drive Billy to his football game in the morning and also my stomach was still a little gloopy from the drinks
I had had earlier in the day. It was suggested that we play some video games in the living room, in particular
some driving game. Billy was skilled and drove like he was channelling Fangio, posting high scores like it was
going out of fashion. When it was my turn I crashed on the first turn, the hood of my video game car buckling as
it hit a fence and I found myself in a farmers field where I proceeded to hit a cow. "You just killed a cow!"
Billy screamed, calling my transgression re: what I said earlier about the sacredness of cows and such.
"That's called a sacrifice...now shutup and let me get some practice driving. I'm even worse in a real car,
and if you're not helpful we'll never make it to that football game in the morning, never."
The time at which the older two, Rebecca and Billy got to bed wasn't important, they could roam around and fall
down when fatigue set in as far as I was concerned, Annie, rather, needed to be in bed by 8:30pm - this had been
stressed. She weaselled an extra half an hour after out of me, but eventually I mustered her too her room. I let
her get changed then came back and to find her wearing a large dental plate, one of those ones with all the straps
and things. She's a pretty girl and it seemed like a travesty to have these tacky leather tendrils groping her
face, I tried not to act to shocked, but I could see in her big puppy dog eyes, that she could see that I was taken
aback. I felt like a heel. "How about a story?" I asked, her face lit up, and I felt a tinge of redemption.
"Um, let me see, ok I got one. There was once this really nice family that lived out in the suburbs. Hell,
they were just so nice, probably the nicest people you're every likely to meet. It was a nice lady, her husband
and their newborn. Everything was going great guns for them, and everyone in the new neighbourhood that they had
just moved into thought they were super." Annie moved from a reclining position to a kneeling one, and paid
keen attention, "Sort of like you guys." I said, petting her on the head. "Well, anyhow, the mother
and father were invited to this big shindig that the boss of the mans company put on every year and held at his
mansion, it's the biggest most grandest mansion, you know I've actually driven past it a few times, it's out on
arcasia boulevard, so I can attest to that. The only problem was, that being new to the neighbourhood, they didn't
have a regular baby-sitter who they could call to look after their newborn. So they call one of those agencies
and the agency gets their name and address and says that they'll send a nice young girl straight over. Well, this
girl, she's not evil or anything but she's a bit of a tear-away, and before she arrived she had taken large doses
of PCP -"
"Drugs?" Annie says, kids are real street-wise these days.
"Yeah, she's a bit loopy, like imagine if you had heaps and heaps of cordial and sweets, like that."
"Anyway, so she arrives, and the parents notice she's a bit nervous, but don't make much of it, and they leave
for their party. Then, about half way through the party the mum gets a call on the mobile phone from the babysitter.
"Oh hi, I hope you're having a good time, I'd thought I'd just call and say that the roast is done."
The baby-sitter said calmly.
"What Roast?" The mother said.
"The Roast Chicken that you left for me and that I put in the oven, well it's done."
The curious thing was that the parents never left a chicken for the babysitter to cook. Worried by this strange
comment, they rushed home immediately. When they arrived home they found their newborn in the oven, cooked to a
golden crisp."
Annie's draw dropped and she looked at me with disbelief - maybe she didn't get it, I thought. So I explained that
the girl was high and had thought the baby was a chicken and had put it in the oven.
"I know! I know! You don't need to explain!" She pulled the covers over her head and I wished her a goodnight.
I turned the hall light off and, feeling somewhat chuffed with myself, I thought, Wow, that Poppins was right "In
every job that must be done, there is an element of fun" fancy that.
The next morning we left for football. We got into the car and straight away I could tell they were a touch unnerved
to have me behind the wheel after the video game the night before. I screeched out of the driveway and laughed
manically, just a gag you see. Annie started to cry. I had to pull over and tell her I was just kidding and that
I was actually a licensed driver and quite a good one - it was a little degrading when they all cheered for me
to produce me license as verification, which I did, then they all laughed at my photo where I have one eye closed
and my mouth slightly open. With the peace restored, I drove off at a leisurely pace and the kids started to play
a little game where they pick someone out on the street, and talk about them in as much detail as possible, pretending
that they've known them all their life.
"He likes horses" Annie said, pointing to a fairly unremarkable man in a tweed blazer and dark slacks,
"But doesn't like cookies."
"Why do you think he doesn't like cookies?" I asked.
"Because his head looks like a cookie." She had a point, and everyone laughed in acknowledgment of her
perceptive comment.
While the kids were compassionate and always seemed to look for that aspect of humanity in their people on the
street, I tended to be wary, judgemental and far less gracious. How many people has this guy killed? I bet she's
got the clapper. He's definitely on drugs. "Look at this guy, a beret! A beret for chrisakes!"
I turned to the kids, "There's no hope for him." I imparted. Rebecca and Billy stared off into middle-
space, while Annie chewed thoughtfully on a plastic multi-coloured worm.
We arrived at a cold, dew covered football field - eerily devoid of the human buzz usually associated with a football
game. A pang of panic shot up my spine. I was sure I had followed the directions as I was supposed to. I just kept
driving, completing several slow laps of the empty field as though we were following the lead of an invisible funeral
procession. I could sense these meaningless rotations were to be the grim death march of baby-sitting career and
suddenly it all flashed before my eyes: the fiddling of a sun visor, the glazed eye of a disembodied fishhead,
and finally my jailing and life sentence for abandoning three children in a field left to be eaten by crows. Rumors
would begin to circulate that I was a godless sodomite who had planned the whole thing from the beginning - a preternatural
fiend crazed by baby-sitter power. I didn't like the sound of any of it. I adjusted the rear-vision mirror, catching
all three sets of eyes that seem to say: "We can sense your fear, but we can't help you, it's part of the
baby-sitter/child code of ethics - thou shalt leave baby-sitter to rot in hell - in fact we find it all rather
amusing. I felt like screaming.
"It's all your fault! You filthy little cretins! Why must you be so inept, why!?"
But it would do no good; kids are generally useless in pressure situations such as these. They have no responsibility,
consequently nothing to lose, and can afford to adopt a Zen-like resignation, or even go as far as to aggravate
a situation just to see how disastrous it can get.
Suddenly my phone rang, it was Mandy calling from some beachside town, she sounded relaxed. "We're...just..on
the way to football now." I said nervously, eyeballing the kids and running my index finger across my throat,
in a mock throat fashion; signaling severe punishment for the loose-lipped.
"Oh, ok, good. Look I'm sorry; I seem to have given you the wrong address. You want to go another 1km from
where I told you to go, there should be another oval down the road there."
"Oh," I said, feigning surprise, "thanks."
The game went for what felt like a thousand or so years. The whether was teeth-chatteringly cold and I had to keep
avoiding this overweight, balding lunatic in a light blue polo shirt who upon our entry, had tried to extort 4$
out of me for parking, at which point I had told him that I was just dropping the children off and would be sure
to wave on my back through. I couldn't bear to watch the game. The skills of the kids were atrocious, and even
worse were the parents, who applauded with nauseating regularity, the never-ending fumbles and near-misses.
"What to go Matty! Woo! That's it champ!" One father brayed in the direction of a child who had all the
dexterity of a puppy on roller-skates.
Someone should tell these pep zealots that good intentions cannot be traded for scoreboard points, it is not okay
to chat to your teammate when the ball is coming your way, and that winning is everything.
I just couldn't watch. Rebecca was with her pals by the canteen, chatting garrulously, so I forced Annie into conversation.
"So…ah, what do you think the wind chill factor is today?"
"Can you believe that guy!? What nerve! What impudence!" The overweight, balding man in the light blue
polo shirt had grabbed my shoulder just before I could get into the car, I had tried to close my door on him. In
the end, to save everyone a lot of trouble, I shelled out the four dollars and he lumbered off. Of course, if it
had been mine kids, I would have had them pre-trained to yell "COMMUNIST! COMMUNIST!" at the first sign
of trouble. Not that calling someone a communist has any real effect these days….But it's a rather fun thing to
do.
By the time we arrived home the weather was fine and I was in the mood for a swim in the pool. "Get your trunks
on, we're all going swimming!"
My suggestion was greeted with the incredulous looks usually reserved for certified lunatics and the elderly.
"You can go," Offered Billy, "We'll just stay here, do you have any idea how cold that water is?"
"No I don't, and I don't really care to know, I presume I'll find out soon enough, and everything well be
wonderfully good."
"Billy Jumped in the other day and he couldn't feel his legs and he chest started to sting, I really wouldn't
go in there if I was you." Rebecca said, in a bleak and chilly tone of voice.
"Nonsense, we're all going for a swim, or at least you're all coming outside because I can't leave you in
here by yourself where I can't see you."
I collected my towel, and bustled the kids through large patio doors and into a grand pool area flanked by lanky
palms and lush greenery. I quickly scooted back indoors and checked the liquor cabinet, all I could get was a half
empty bottle of Rum, but was pleased enough. I rushed back outside and the kids were standing together rubbing
their arms and blowing hot air from their mouths.
"Jesus," I muttered, it was awfully cold outside.
"Probably warmer in than out," I suggested unconvincingly.
The kids rolled their eyes and, like I talked about before, they could smell something terrible in the air and
now had no inclination to keep me from going in the water, moreover, they were now quietly salivating for it. I
lay about on several large boulders that had been placed around the pool for decoration, each one large and ominous
and beady with cold water. I drank all the rum I could stomach and dove headfirst into the icy water. Even before
my whole body was submersed I could feel this almighty cold snaking its way through every molecule of my supple
flesh, and I began to jolt with little electric shocks all over my body. For a split second the jolts stopped and
I thought, Hey this isn't so bad, you wimpy kids don't know anything - then this incredible pain set in and I started
thrashing around like a beast in the midst of it's death throws.
I finally managed to scramble to the edge, gasping for breath, and haul myself onto the pavement beside the pool,
and lay their panting for a while. What normally would have been very cold and uncomfortable pavement felt soothingly
warm and cathartic, like the cold toilet bowl to the drunk.
I gathered my senses and glanced around: I kid, 2 kid - NO THIRD KID.
"Where's the third one." I asked, my voice wavering.
"Billy went to hunt for worms next door."
"Oh good god"
"Which backyard?" They pointed to the backyard that adjoined the very rear of the property. I grabbed
both the girls shoulders and squeezed hard, don't you bloody move - or I'll throw you into the drink, you got it?"
They seemed to understand.
With the girls sufficiently sedated by fear I lurched over the back fence and looked around for the lost child.
"Billy" I whispered, "Billy, where are you?" The garden appeared empty and lacking in small
children. "Billy, Billy, BILLY!!"
"Can I help you?" Asked a round-faced woman in tartan pants holding a rake.
"I was just looking for my football, you see, I should be able to find it, you should just go about your business
and I'll be out of your hair in no time."
"Well, I have a good amount of precious plants and I would prefer if I had a look for you." She pursed
her lips and began to emit a contemptuous air. I was getting nowhere so I took of and kept searching. I ran down
the side of the house and luckily, there in a fresh looking borrow Billy was absolutely covered in dirt and whistling
as he played. Without slowing I ran past and scooped him like a football and kept running.
After doubling back around the block and climbing the side fence we made it back into the yard where the girls
where still waiting.
Can we go inside now, they pleaded sincerely.
"Yes we can." I said.
We all shuffled to the door, but it wouldn't open, somebody, probably me, had forget to release the lock.
"Ah, ha, her, ha." I laughed apprehensively.
"Don't worry kids, we'll find a way in."
"It's OK, Rebecca chimed in, mum's home!"
I could see Mandy making her way through the house at a great and terrifying rate, and though I hadn't really done
anything terrible, my instinct was to flee.
Mandy sent me $150 in the mail yesterday, with a small thankyou note and a little smiley face. 'I hope you're available
in the future, thanks - P.S though I am a little confused as to why you left in such a hurry'.
Visit the Author's web site:
http://www.underthefloor.com
The End