How the Monster Became Hairy and Subsequently Scary: Second Attempt

Last Summer, or was it the summer before, Cousin from America visited with her two kids who are Pakistani by breed, hybrid by behavioral habits, and Amreeki by nationality [Fuck that's gotta lead to some serious identity crises]. So these kids, the girl four and the guy two I think, of all the fascinating (assumption) sights their eyes had beheld in The Land of the Free, apparently, had never seen messed up hair. Or been in close proximity with a human bearing them anyway. So upon introduction to me and my bird nest, the little girl scrunches her nose and ponders, what on good earth is the matter with my hair. It befuddles her. It makes her young head, not yet accustomed to thoughts of such strange nature, spin and diverts attention from the latest Dora episode to, me. So she gives up on the effort.

Now a little while later The Cousins, as usual, take up the awami bed in the room which serves whoever’s in it at whatever time, and mingle (i.e. GOSSIP). This young lady decides to join us. Now that my charmingly passive (ahem) introduction facade has vanished, she realises that my hair isn’t the only thing about me she doesn’t like. I think I scared her. That was the experimentational-period. The flashing-kids-with-the-hard-cold-stare-to-see-how-long-they’d-hold-out. So yes. She, very calmly and with almost a regal air, Knights me with the holy title of Hairy Fucking Scary Monster. okay so she just said Hairy Scary Monster. Whatever. Now I entirely did not care what a child (ignorant, ignorant child) of four decides to dub me, I dismissed it as mildly amusing with a wave of my Holy Hand. But the Cousins, they seemed to think it was the wittiest remark they’d heard in their virgin ( with regard to HUMOUR, although otherwise as well I should presume. hope. ) lives. ANYHO:

Okay don't get many pictures taken so this'll have to do: So this is what it looked like around then.

See? Not all THAT Hairy Scary (that’s not even close to the worst of me). So anyway.

This year, said cousin came once again along with her children, for a longer duration so we’ve spent more time with the kids. The older as much of a Dora as she was last time (she even says “Let’s Play!” in that annoying squirmy tone), and the younger cuter than ever:

And these holy children of god STILL FRIKKIN REMEMBER THE HAIRY SCARY MONSTER SCANDAL. They won’t remember my name, oh no, but they’ll remember this. Maybe my face induces revelations.

Whats more is that it’s been renewed and branded on their memories with molten hot brandishing tools (can’t seem to remember what they’re called). SO it goes like this.

Me: “Hi A/O”
A/O: “AAAARGH! HAIRY SCARY MONSTER!” *runs away*
Me: …

After a few such encounters I decided what the hell and agreed to play along, with the whole monster-chase and shiz. So then finally the younger kid, O, realises I’m not all that monsterous and says to his mother:

“Well from the outside she’s nice, but the inside she’s evil”
TheMom: “huh?”
“Her mouth is evil!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Yes it is! From the outside she’s nice, but in her mouth she’s evil! her teeth are evil!”
“chup karo itnay achay to daant hain..”
me: “erm. Thankyou?”

So my mouth is evil. Beware?

Anyho. It’s been about a month if not more since both kids are here, and they’re lovely. Once you get past the Dora-ness. Buh anyway. So the title “Hairy Scary Monster” stuck, and that’s what I’m referred to as despite the fact that they’ve gotten over their initial erm, fears. (It’s either that or “fi fi”, an intervention by my diabolical sister). So normal conversations now go like this:

(O and I were wanted to go to my house from an aunt’s house, which is another apartment in the same building, same floor, to retrieve His Highness’s Wand [explained later] while his mother was leaving at the same time)

TheMom: “O where are you going? We have to leave.”
O: “But I’m going with the hairy scary monster, to her house!”
TheMom: “We’ll go some other time, alright. We have to go home now. Say goodbye to the hairy scary monster.”
O: “Bye hairy scary monster, make sure the wand is charged okay.”

——————————————-

O was over and playing with the Harry Potter Toy Wand my sister had as a kid. Expectedly, a fued developed over who should be the Highest Wizard and in control of the wand. So we decided to put the wand away altogether. Now doing this while avoiding the wailing of freakishly high-pitched banshees around the house was somewhat tricky. So we let on the following:

Me: “You see, Wizard O (he’d zap you into a frog if you didn’t say that) the power of the wand has been exhausted, we need to recharge it. Here’s it’s charger see. You put it in there like that, hanging part of it in the beaded necklace up there.. *puts the wand in a half used toilet roll and lets the magic-spurtings part of it dangle onto a beaded necklace hanging luckily from something overhead, in the most gentle manner so as to show the wand had to be Dealt with Carefully* There. now it’ll charge..”
O: *awestuck. watching he wand, gaping* …
Me: “.. We must leave now.”
O: “But why?”
Me: “Because it won’t charge if someone’s looking at it”
O: “But I’m not looking at it” *turns away*
Me: “but you can’t be in the room either, see. It won’t charge in the presence of humans. It has to be perfectly alone.” *drags him out*
O: “But whyyy?”
Me: “Because.” (his own line thrown back at him, huzzzah!)

So he child is pacified. Phew. A while later..

O: “Wands don’t charge.”

Sister and I exchange looks of Fuck.

Me: “Um. But this one does!”
O: “No it doesn’t!”
Me: “yes it does, it’s a special kind of wand you see.”

He does see, thankfully. And runs off with the other kids to play. Some three-and-a-half-year-old.

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