A big fat sow, a big black cow—and how and how and how.
"A big fat cow, a big black sow—and how and how and how.
"A cow, a cow; a sow, a sow—big and fat, big and fat; so they sat—so they sat, they sat; so they sat."
She hopped around the room, first on one foot, then on the other. On her left foot she always said, "sow," and on her right foot, "cow." She sat down on the floor each time she said, "They sat, they sat." But in seconds she was up again—hopping around the room and, in a loud, clear, high-pitched voice, saying, "A cow, a cow; a sow, a sow—black, black, black, black, black, black, black, black." Her voice changed. She was shrieking now. Then she sat down, held her head with her hands, and moved it up and back, moaning softly. "Dark, dark, dark, dark, dark—so, so, so, so dark."
* * *
Fuddy-dud-dud, fuddy-dud-dud-duddy-fud—fud-duddy fud-fud.
"Scudy-rud—rud-scud, rud-scud; duddy-scud fud rud, duddy scud fud rud."
She sat in the corner and repeated the sequence over and over again. John tried to engage her in a sensible conversation—but to no avail. She listened to him, looked at him, and repeated the sequence again and again.
David listened and wondered what she meant. He finally gave up and thought about a big calendar clock he had seen a year ago.
* * *
That night before he fell asleep he had a fantasy. The sky was absolutely clear of clouds, the air cool, crisp, and dry. Thousands upon thousands of stars were visible. Planets could be seen, and the sun and moon, too. Beyond it all there were other suns and planets, other universes. They all moved perfectly, precisely, in exact relation to one another. The universes and galaxies and universes beyond them had all become part of a huge mechanism. It was the Universal Time Clock, and it measured Universal Time. He lay back and smiled, for after all he, David Green, was The Universal Timekeeper—or, better yet, Keeper of the Time—all Time.
He made sure the cover was tucked about him perfectly. He lay still—and fell asleep, his right hand clutched around the ancient teddy bear ear under his pillow. The light remained on all night.
* * *
John, John, begone, begone—enough, enough of this stuffy stuff."
"Are you angry with me, Lisa?"
"Angry, angry—bangry, wangry,—be gone, John; John, be gone."
"I guess you are angry. What is it that makes you so angry?"
"You foo, you foo—it's you, it's you—it's you, you foo; foo you, foo you."
She suddenly broke into a wild screaming laugh. She screamed and laughed continuously, imperceptibly inhaling air to laugh some more. After five minutes he interrupted her. "You're still angry, aren't you, Lisa?"
She stopped abruptly.
"You louse, louse—John is a louse, a big fat louse on a little gray mouse."
She looked up at the big man and grinned—an inane, foolish kind of grin. Her mood changed suddenly. The expression on her face became one of utmost seriousness. She suddenly charged away from the man and ran to the other side of the large reception room. She faced the wall and talked to herself in a barely audible whisper.
"He won't give me anything. He's big and fat and mean and why won't he give Lisa the crayons? He would give them to Muriel. He likes the Muriel me—but today I'm Lisa me, Lisa me."
Then she broke into a hop-skip-and-a-jump, quickly running around the walls of the room.
"Lisa, Lisa, is my name—today I'm the same—the same—the same, the same."
"May I speak to you, John?"
John turned to the tall, thin, teenage boy. David wore horn-rimmed glasses, was fastidiously dressed in a gray tweed suit, and conveyed the impression of utmost seriousness and dedication to intellectual pursuit. His pinched, thin, white face seemed too small for his long body. He spoke with the utmost precision.
"Why, yes, David. What would you like to say?"
"Thank you for your indulgence. Of late it has become increasingly difficult to find ears for my words. I've been studying your patient, or, since you are not a physician, shall I say student. I have come to several conclusions, which I feel time and further study by your staff will validate. Lisa is schizophrenic and is a child—I would say approximately twelve years of age. Therefore, my diagnosis would be childhood schizophrenia, undoubtedly of the chronic variety. However, diagnostic work is no challenge to me. I prefer to study the dynamic aspect of a particular case. Do you follow me?"
"Yes. Yes, indeed I do." John shook his head affirmatively.
"Good. Then I will continue."
Lisa was still hopping and skipping around the room, now periodically emitting a loud war whoop.
David chose his words carefully, the effort graphically demonstrated by his eyes and mouth. "Lisa has a most difficult time with authority or authoritarian figures. It is therefore extremely important that you adopt an attitude of complete permissiveness in your relationship with her. You must realize that this child has utmost difficulty with her emotions. Now, it is my belief that this difficulty is related to her obsession with speaking in rhymes. The rhyming serves as a decoy or camouflage for what she actually feels. I therefore think that you should not have refused her the crayons, even though she marked the wall."
Lisa stopped skipping and walked over to them.
"John, John, don't be gone—don't be gone."
"I'll see you later, David." He patted David on the shoulder.
The boy lurched away and screamed, "You touched me, you boor, you unmitigated fool—you touched me! Do you want to kill me? A touch can kill—you bastard, you rotten bastard!" His face was contorted with rage. He turned and left them, muttering to himself, "The touch that kills, the touch that kills," and carefully examining his shoulder.
Copyright © 1998 by Theodore Isaac Rubin Lisa and David copyright © 1961 by Theodore Isaac Rubin