There Are No Bad Ideas When You’re Brain Storming

Stewart pulled into his driveway and sat for a moment listening to the end of an NPR story about an anti-theft program in Philadelphia, part of which included placing a recording device and GPS in a car left on the street with the keys visibly left in the ignition. The story had audio clips of perpetrators who’d made off with the car, only to be apprehended a few blocks later by the police lying in wait. One such perp was Kenneth Halpert, a 26 year old administrative assistant who boosted the car as a drunken prank. The audio clips of Halpert captured him giggling to himself and cranking the radio as “The Boys are Back in Town” blared from classic rock radio station WMGK. Stewart listened and laughed along as Halpert took his joy ride through neighborhood streets. As he turned right at the first corner in order to return the car to where he found it—it was a prank, after all, not the real thing—the tone of his voice suddenly turned from giddy to panic as police lights illuminated behind him.

“It was a stupid thing to do I know that,” Halpert acknowledged in an interview from jail where he’s serving four years for grand theft. “I kinda feel like it was entrapment though, you know what I mean?” Stewart shook his head and switched off the radio.

“Dumb shit, “ he muttered to himself with a chuckle.

He grabbed his work bag and headed inside through the garage door to the kitchen. The oven door was open, as where two cabinet doors.

“What the…?” he said as he closed them all one by one, each with a slightly louder slam than the last. Stewart’s wife Angie had a bad habit of leaving a trail of open doors, drawers and containers in her wake. Everything that she opened would remain that way until she returned to the item in question. It drove Stewart slightly crazy and was often the topic of gentle ribbing whenever he walked into the kitchen. An open stove was a bit much though since their four year old daughter was apt to thrown any number of toys, playing cards, or assorted found objects inside. She was a stasher.

Stewart rummaged through the cabinet looking for a snack. There were whole wheat crackers and craisins and organic ginger cookies but nothing that appealed to his sweet tooth.

“Chocolate…chocolate…chocolate…” he intoned like a mantra that might make a candy bar appear. Nothing. He grabbed a handful of the ginger cookies and walked into the living room.

The TV was on a kids show starring five grown men in red jumpsuits who live together in a warehouse where they spend their days “solving” problems like how to tie a monster’s shoe or unstick “supergoop” from a friend’s hand. They also had a band, but that seemed to be more of a hobby for them than a career option. The real money was in solving idea emergencies.

Stewart sat down for a moment and considered changing the channel to a cable news network, which was usually a sure way to incite the rage of his four year old despite the fact that she clearly wasn’t watching the show. Stewart decided it was worth the risk and changed the channel only to find a raging debate over whether Ronald Reagan would be deemed suitably “Reaganesque” to pass the GOP’s newly enacted, but largely symbolic, litmus test for mid-term candidates. Despite protestations from the two conservative members of the assembled panel, it seemed clear to Stewart that Reagan would not likely make the cut were he alive today given his support of immigration reform, Medicare and Social Security expansion, and “cutting and running” from Lebanon following the attack on a marines barrack in 1983.

“Dumb shits,” he chuckled to himself.

It was then that it dawned on Stewart how quiet the house was. The sound of his footsteps after work generally attracted the four year old’s attention and the changing of channels certainly would if she’d been of a mood to ignore her father.

“Where is everyone?” he shouted.

A small noise came from his bedroom. He got up from the couch and made his way to the hallway where the rooms were. To his right was his daughter’s room. He stepped quietly to the door, which was slightly ajar. He pushed it quietly open and saw his daughter in a heap on a pile of blankets on the floor. She was breathing deeply like she did when in the deepest of a night sleep. The room was a mess of toys, pillows, torn pieces of paper, crayons, chalk, Dora stickers, scattered granola and half-eaten fruit.

Stewart backed out slowly pulling the door closed. He turned toward his own bedroom door across the hall. The door was open and the room was dark. Again he heard what sounded like a low moan coming from the dark. He stepped quietly, slowly toward the doorway and saw the mound on his bed. It moved slowly and deliberately and almost imperceptibly at first. The he noticed the slight shutter that happens when someone is crying and trying to center themselves. He heard the moan again too.

“Angie?” he asked into the darkness.

“Oh, you’re home,” she replied. “What time is it?”

“It’s 5:45. What’s going on?”

“It’s 5:45?” she asked, gaining a bit of her composure. “Oh wow.”

“What’s going on?” he asked again.

“It was just one of those days,” Angie sighed. “I don’t know if…” she paused as if stopping herself from saying something she didn’t mean.

“If what?”

“I don’t know, is something wrong with her? I mean, sometimes it’s just so hard.”

“Well, she can be challenging, I know, but I don’t think anything is wrong…”

“Oh, how do you know? You aren’t even here during the day.”

“I know but…”

“But nothing. You don’t know!”

“So it was one of those days…”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to pile on but I found the oven door open when I came home. Who knows what she might have thrown in there?”

Angie replied with something Stewart couldn’t hear. She buried her face in the pillow and starting sobbing.

“Hey, hey,” Stewart said as he sat on the edge of the bed at her feet.

“It’s OK,” he said and rubbed her leg. “At least it’s an electric oven or we’d have a real problem on our hands.” Stewart laughed a little to ease the tension.

Angie looked up from the pillow and into his eyes. Her puffy eyes, wet with tears and red around the lids, stared back in disbelief.

“Oh gaaaawd…” she finally wailed and pulled the blanket over her head.