RelationshipsCreative

Firemen’s Ball

 

https://dillydallykids.ca/cdn/shop/products/siku-fire-engine-cars-boats-planes-trains-siku.jpg?v=1612222077&width=1000

Siku Fire Engine from Dilly Dally Kids

They couldn’t make it this year. 

He was real upset about that. He had waited all week for those concrete floors and the slappy sound they made ‘gainst his light-up Skechers. He even told Mommy to buy ‘em a new pair so he looked clean next to those big trucks. Brother told Mommy, on TV, those men always have big moustaches ‘n yellow suspenders. Mommy let ‘em bring his Blue’s Clues notebook–so that he could keep count of how many of those men matched the screen. On the drive there, Mommy started yellin’ and Sir whipped the car ‘round and Sir even went past a red light and people go to jail for that.

Brothers’ shoes looked a bit out of place. 

 

And the hospital floor didn’t make that slap sound. 

And Mommy was just yellin’ and Sir was standin’ right there 

and he looked real stressed. 

 

And then Sir said, This is Sister 

and you should kiss ‘er right on the head.

 

And then Brother held Sister 

and decided to kiss ‘er right on ‘er head.

 


 

Brother asked Mommy to buy him and Sister matchin’ outfits. Sister wasn’t all that good at walkin’. Brother thought that was real funny ‘cause she would just waddle ‘round. Sir said Brother could push Sister in the stroller; the wheels would make a cool sound, and they wouldn’t waste rainy day money on shoes she’d outgrow. Brother thought that Sister would still need new Skechers, no matter of how much walkin’ she’d manage. Brother said, Sister ‘n me should get new light-ups so that we look clean. Sir said that they should all wear yellow suspenders and big moustaches. Brother said that only him and Sister should do that because then they’ll look like twins and Mommy and Sir are just too old. 

 

And so the Blue’s Clues notebook had two tallies because there were twins.

And Brother made six more scratches 

and even let Sister help him.

 

And Brother took Sister’s shoes off 

and hit them on the floor so they would light up.

And there was a big hollow sound from all the wheels. 

 

And Sister started clappin’ 

and she even tried to walk but Brother just grabbed ‘er 

and put ‘er back in the stroller. 

 

And Brother held Sister 

and decided to kiss ‘er right on ‘er head.

 


 

They hadn’t worn matchin’ outfits in a long time. They still wore their mustaches, though. Sir thought that was real funny. Brother’s bringin’ his Blue’s Clues notebook, for the game. The game doesn’t have a name. Brother and Sister would save a few dollars every Christmas, and whoever spotted the most Big M./Yellow S. men would get to keep the cash. The two of ‘em only saved $8 this year. There were only two or three BM/YS men and their moustaches were patchy so they didn’t even count. Sister didn’t want to play anymore. Brother thought that the game was gettin’ kinda old. Or maybe not that the game was gettin’ old, maybe he was gettin’ old. Or maybe not that he was gettin’ old, maybe Sister was gettin’ old. Or maybe not that Sister was gettin’ old, maybe they were both gettin’ old. Or maybe he didn’t really know.

 

And Brother decided that patchy facial hair still counted 

and they can’t just be disqualifyin’ everyone. 

 

And he made sure to stomp his feet 

and listen to the slap even though his shoes didn’t light up.

 

And Brother watched Sister spill lemonade on ‘er shirt, 

and Mom said that she was too grown to be this clumsy.

 

And Brother was just wishin’ that Sister would never walk too well, 

and that she would always spill ‘er lemonade.

And Brother held Sister and decided to kiss ‘er right on ‘er head.

 


 

Sister couldn’t make it this year.

He was real upset about that.

 

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Author
  • Yasmin Haruna

    Yasmin Haruna is a Nigerian-Canadian poet and prose author born and raised in the Prairies. Now studying at the University of Toronto, she channels her longing for her home—Canada’s Breadbasket—into her creative expression. Her writing sits at the crossroads of unease and serendipity, inviting readers to stew in their thoughts, whatever they may be.