Daypart Overload

Ch_009_000: Daypart Overload

Brother Dawn, or Mire, had the simplest claim of the four: time goes forward, not backward, so the Dawn slot had to be his. Then he looked across at his grandfather Lassie Junior and shifted in his seat.

Lassie Junior qua Brother Dusk sat easy. He had been Day and was the most successful to date. Brother Dusk’s entire job was the preservation of success and not simply age. He would not be moving anytime soon as his hair was only thinning a bit and not really showing unless you looked at him just so. He could easily overcome a poor angle with a dominant je ne sais quoi.

Spock, with dreadlocks of uncertain provenance and random jutting jets of blond bristles, subtly signaled his claim to the title of Brother Bad Hair Day with an intensely blind stare at his son, Baby, Brother Good Hair Day. Baby’s hair was far more aligned with what the public had become accustomed to seeing. I.e. Baby qua Lassie was closer to Lassie qua Lassie than Spock qua Lassie, obviously.

Weatherwax placed the nickel can grenade on the negotiation table and the five parties began their discussion.

Weatherwax barked first, “It is such a nice surprise to see you again, Brother Bad Hair Day. You are well?”

Spock remained unmoved and still stared blindly at his son. Everyone waited in vain for a response that never would come.

Brother Dusk asked, “These can’t be the titles we’ll be keeping, right? I’m sorry but the argument is clear. Lassie is an ideal that we all maintain together. I am afraid that, unless my son can regain his coat, he cannot be a Day.”

Brother Good Hair Day noted, “That would mean he’d need to be a Dusk, a Dawn, or, well, something else.”

Spock stood perfectly still during this entire exchange.

Dusk replied, “I have been Dusk for a fraction of my fair share of time. I am invaluable as my years of successful grooming shows. My son, well, achieved so little. I’d say, we give him his due, he will be Brother Sunday Prime Access and help us in the newly emerging syndication marketplaces for in-store promotions.”

No one wanted that assignment as the constant hotel stays were hard on the hair. Dusk, Good Hair, Dawn, and Weatherwax waited for Bad Hair’s reaction with their heads slightly ducked in case of an explosive reaction.

After a minute of silence, Dawn asked, “Does anyone know if he can hear?”

“yahoo,” said Bad Hair as he turned to face Dawn directly.

“I suspect he does,” said Weatherwax. “Maybe, he cannot speak clearly any longer?”

“Yahoo,” said Bad Hair as he turned to face Weatherwax directly.

“Maybe he’s just an idiot who only jabbers at the last thing he was told,” tested Dusk.

Bad Hair turned to Dusk and stared. No sound was issued.

“Maybe, he has something to tell us and he only reacts verbally when he agrees?” said Weatherwax.

“Yahoo,” said Bad Hair as he spun around quickly to Weatherwax.

“Maybe he says nothing when he does not agree?” said Dawn carefully.

Bad Hair turned and stared at Dawn, then, after a moment, said, “yahoo?”

As Dusk started to ask another question, Good Hair interrupted, “Sorry to interrupt but I just received a message via my phone from poor daddy Spock’s hospital. He’s escaped from their care but if found, he should feel better in the morning. He might be disoriented and non-verbal today. I think we should let him rest as he left the hospital against their advice today.”

Bad Hair turned and stared blindly at his son. The other three looked between father and son. The group sat in uncomfortable silence until Weatherwax offered liver snacks to all. The four humans chewed together. After the food was completed, the dog took Bad Hair away and locked him in his cell for the night. The dog reminded the others that lights out was in twenty minutes.

“I hope poor Spock can tell us what is bothering him in the morning instead of playing charades like today,” said the dog in passing.

Good Hair seemed uneasy as she left for her cell.