[Another kind of story. Childish post-reality. Post-literature for adults. Lettre-verite.]
A usual winter evening, in which I (Daddy) was getting some materials ready for the next day. Mommy was watching something on TV while he, Sebastian, busied himself, as usual, with games of his own making. At the beginning, focused as I was on my own work, I wasn’t quite aware of the stake; little by little I began to pay more attention, to participate in the game, and to write everything down – all that was taking place and all the spoken parts, all that was being done and undone and redone…
Sebastian, three years old, was playing with his little doll – but a very tiny doll; she was very pretty and colourful, somewhat like a Chinese girl. His father had given it to him and had told him her name was Damsel Mihaela-Cosanzeana. Sebastian’s Mom, whose name happened also to be Mihaela, had first objected, but then she became submerged in her daily affairs…
Sebastian had barely spent little happy time alone with the colourful doll, when the Smiling Plastic-Crab showed up, and talk with the child - in Daddy’s voice:
“Please, would you bring the little doll closer? I want to see her better!...”
But as it happened, the Smiling Plastic-Crab played a trick on the child and stole Mihaela-Cosanzeana away, in his big claws. He went into the next room and there he took the doll for wife.
“Come back to me!” little Sebastian shouted in pain.