FMS

"Let's draw a picture of this song for the deaf kids." Rita is always doing shit like this. She's out to save the world, but she has no fucking clue how to pull it off. Sometimes it's dancing tango for the elderly or putting on puppet theatre in the burn ward. She lives at home. Today she's drawing a bright red sun with a thunderhead in the distance, and pointing to the stereo. Rita can't draw for shit. Rita could inspire armies, but armies are fascist and quite out of her scope. Now she's added a field of chaotic flora: sunflowers, daffodils, corn. One deaf kid is tugging on the hearing aid of this kid who's bopping, maybe to the music. The kid with the hearing aid starts waling on Tuggy. Both of them are tromboning out all those long vowel sounds you get when you can't hear yourself. Rita's got her hands on her hips. Then she's wagging her finger at these two guys locked in hateful embrace. She's snapping and clapping like some gospel nut. A little girl in orange cords--who had patiently been watching the picture--came over to the rumbling pair and tickled them.