We Gon' Need Mo' Tchotchkes Babies

Can you name all the tiny bones of the ear? You're dead to me! Now quick, name every constellation and every "culture's" story for them. You lose, again. That will be one double drop kick, to each of your clavicles please. Some don't care how they land, just to escape from moment to moment until...the sound wave whomp of low pressure blows out the windows, don't mind the slamming doors slapping "crack" against the wall as your eyes lift to the roof going up up and away; then you wake in the tub with a taste some like holocaust in your mouth and a knot on the back of your head the size of a rotten 100 year old goose egg you and a braver 5 year old saw people eating on the sad traumedy that is the American need for face time and a little scratch, fear factor, but I usually do the crossword then and keep my eyes down, or look over to catch the show that is her seeing the mad world for the first time, through twin gray screens; what I wouldn't gladly give of myself to keep her safe, until she had balance to fend or legs long enough to run; then I flip it over to Cyberchase.