Bubble Goo

The house smelled of overly sweet synthetic watermelon, as the

dad was summoned to the upstairs bath where he knew the stench

would be the strongest. His eyes began to water, his allergies wanted to

kick in, and the wafting bubble bath fragrance nearly sent him to the

emergency room with an unpleasant reaction. What would the doctors

call that, “aversion to bubble?”

He smiled and laughed as he saw his three children with unique

hair, and full beards of watermelon bubbles, as they posed for a picture

like the professional bathers they were. He said bye to spiked hair kids,

and bodies covered with a layer of large bubbles whose filmy surface

had that odd swirling mass of color, like some sort of unknown nebula

galaxy.

To the basement he thought, the only place that he could watch

TV and relax without the smelly inducement that the Scooby Doo

bottle of death had created in the bathtub upstairs. Wouldn’t you

know that the first add that came on was those kids running through a

field dragging some sort of hanging string object that trailed huge

bubbles out of it. The smell of watermelons leaked from the TV

commercial, and it was on to the garage for dad.

Everyplace he looked, bubbles, like some sort of black and white,

horror movie staring Steve McQueen. There was the faulty large sword

like toy that filled with liquid and when the item was pulled out, the

squeeze type handle was to open the thing and create extra large

bubbles. Dad’s boy was sent into a frenzied tantrum when the deal

didn’t work like the picture on the box portrayed.

There were the basic sized bubble containers where you had to stick

your finger into the slimy goo just to get the, hope it works, tool out.

You know the one with the little crown on the top? Washing your

hands four or five times may get a start on the goo’s demise, but

mineral spirits might have to be the ticket.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a small pink ribbon coming

out of the base of his stairs that led to the mud room. Of course the

ribbon was tied to one of those small cloudy white vials with the

hexagonal lid that had a liquid in it. What was the liquid in there you

ask? There were four of these vials lingering around after a friends

wedding. The two of us were there, but we had to ask others for their

baby containers so each of the kids could have one. Yes, they were

filled with the goo, the lovely mixture, that miracle stuff of wonders
that was the most fun outside in the winter. Those twenty below zero

days that were too cold for the kids to be outside, when dad could have

some quiet time with his fragrance free amazing bubbles.

Finally, dad found the massive fluorescent green gallon plus jug of

elixir on the shelf where it belonged. He smiled as he attempted to lift

the jug for some reason, and frowned when his hand gained pieces of

partially dried gunk that looked at him and laughed. He hosed off the

jug, wiped down the shelf, replaced it, and went to find his favorite

coarse workingman’s soap that might assist him with his, “aversion to

bubble.”

The house smelled of overly sweet synthetic watermelon that day.