EXTINCTION

ME:  Here’s your newspaper Grammy.  Although I don’t see why you can’t get your news on the internet and save a tree or two.

GRAMMY:  Ha!  Look who’s talking, Miss Buried-in-Books.  If you want to save a damn tree, get yourself one of those book-reader thingies.

ME:  No.  I thought about it, but it would just be too weird not having books in the house.  It’s even kind of scary.

GRAMMY:  Scary?

ME:  It’s like we’re facing the extinction of the written word.  When it all goes digital, nothing will be permanent.  Read it today, change or delete it tomorrow.  And if anything ever happens - POOF! - all that information is gone.

GRAMMY:  You know, that would make one hell of a good story.

ME:  Ooh, you’re right, Grammy!  A dystopian novel.  And I could write it!

GRAMMY:  Yeah.  On the computer causing the problem.  And when it’s finished, you can kill a tree to make a book.  It can be one of those self-fulfilling prophecy things.

ME:  Oh, wow, Grammy.  You're so right!  I could be like Jules Verne and H. G. Wells!

GRAMMY:  No.  They would have gotten the sarcasm when they heard it.

Artwork:  Red Tree Factory

SHRINKWRAP

GRAMMY: What’s wrong with Julius? He seems more depressed that normal.

ME: He’s nervous about school. Next Wednesday will be his first day of first grade. His psychiatrist said . . . .

GRAMMY: His psychiatrist? You take a six year old boy to a psychiatrist?

ME: It’s just to talk, Grammy, and sort things out. Divorce can be very traumatic for a child.

GRAMMY: How traumatic can it be, Barbara? You got divorced while he was still in the womb. Stick him in a tree and walk away.

ME: What?

GRAMMY: Stick him in a tree and walk away. He’ll find his own way down and feel better about himself for doing it.

ME: That’s ridiculous, Grammy. What if he falls out? What if he breaks an arm or a leg. Or worse.

GRAMMY: Good God, Barbara. I didn’t say it has to be a tall tree. And what if he does break an arm? What the hell do you think show and tell is for?

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