23
AN EXCITING NEW
SHOPPING EXPERIENCE!
I was a little nervous about the whole thing. I knew there was no way I should be taking a $10,000 puppet shopping. But like I said—what could I do? I promised.
There was another thing too. I’d never had many friends before. Real friends, I mean, who weren’t there just because my dad was a rich39 doctor. Or because they wanted to have a good seat if Bess got arrested again.
Bitsie was annoying, childish and full of himself, but he was a real friend. The only reason he was there was me. He really liked me. I mean, why else would he get so jealous?
And I liked him too. He was smart40 and funny.41 I hated hurting his feelings, and this seemed like a pretty easy way to fix things. I had the taxi vouchers to get there. I had my emergency money. I had a knapsack to hide him in (as long as he promised not to step on my Choc-o-rama). And Bitsie had keys to get in and out of the studio.
One little trip to the mall. What could it hurt?
Nothing, it turned out. Bitsie kept his mouth shut as we went past the security guard at the studio, and I only had to shush him once in the taxi. (I told the cabdriver I had something stuck up my nose.) And even though Bitsie was really, really excited to be in the mall, he still managed to whisper.
Constantly.
But at least he whispered.
It was kind of cute actually. Like taking a three-year-old to the zoo or something. I thought he’d be really interested in getting out in the real world, seeing how people lived, how civilization worked, that type of thing.
But no. Bitsie was just interested in the stuff they advertise on TV.
He poked half his head and a few toes42 out of my knapsack. He’d spot something down the mall and go, “Look, look, look, look, look, look!” all excited. “It’s Donut Delite!” or “Casbah Carpets!” or “Mr. Big’s Fashions for the Larger Man!”
Then he’d give me a major nudge in the ribs like I was his horse or something, and I’d have to trot over for a closer look. The whole way there he’d be singing the store’s advertising jingle or repeating the special offers like they were this really important information. How to get out of a burning building, say, or what will be covered on Tuesday’s Natural Science test.
Then he’d make me go into the store and try on the “AirPocket” running shoes to see if they really did support my arches better than other leading brands. Or buy a Fudge X-plosion Ice Cream Treat to watch the Pow-r Flav-r make my eyeballs spin. Or check out the patented Super Suktion of the convenient new Miracle-Vac. Sometimes he’d even make me buy stuff. Nothing he could actually use—like another tube of rubber cement, say, or some yellow fuzz to fill in that bald spot he had in the back.
No. Couldn’t do that. That would almost make sense.
Instead, Bitsie would beg and beg and whimper away until finally I’d break down and spend my emergency money on his very own glow-in-the-dark dog collar or bottle of Hyper-Wipe bathroom disinfectant or medicated bunion-removal strips for “greater comfort on your walk of life.”
At first I thought Bitsie was just pretending to be so excited about these brand-name products. I mean, who really takes that stuff seriously? Then I realized Bitsie didn’t have Media Awareness classes in school. He didn’t have a mother who hated TV only slightly less than I hated turnips. And he didn’t have anything better to do with his time. I guess if television was my only friend, my only teacher and as close as I got to having a parent, I’d want to believe it too.
See, that’s the difference between Bitsie and me. I love TV the way I love junk food. I’m not supposed to have either, so I stuff myself full of both of them whenever my mother’s not looking. But I don’t think they’re good for me. I mean, I might like having a caramel crunch donut with every meal, but I don’t think they should be on the Canada Food Guide or anything. They’re just junk food.
The same thing with TV. Even educational TV is just junk with fiber. Like those whole-grain tofu brownies Mum makes as a so-called treat.
When I want a treat, I want a treat. Something I can actually enjoy. Something that’s actually fun. Something that has absolutely nothing to do with nutrition or education or doing the right thing. That’s why I don’t tune in to Organ Overview on the Health Channel to find out everything there is to know about my intestines. When I get to watch TV, I watch Adventures of Diamond Eyes, Fang: Dog of the Undead or—even better—Summer Homes of the Rich and Lazy.
I mean, it’s just TV. It’s a toy. It’s not life. But Bitsie didn’t understand that. I don’t know why. He couldn’t tell the difference between what was on TV and what was real. Seeing all those “nationally advertised brands” up close was a big deal for him. I wasn’t going to ruin his fun by telling him the real story.
And it was only one little trip to the mall, right?
39 Yeah, right.
40 Not as smart as he thought he was of course.
41 He had no idea how funny he was.
42 There was no other place for them. Good thing he was so flexible.