“All right then, girls. Simmer down, simmer down. Come over here in front of the camera. Stop pushing, Cali.” Thus begins the good father’s campaign to photograph his daughters.
“Girls, this is Mr. Hugabug. Come on and sit – Eva let go of your sister’s hair. Eva let go of your sister’s hair. Eva you’re mussing her- that’s better. Thank you sweet heart. Come on and sit here on the floor. Ready? Ready, Mr. Hugabug? Smile sweet girls.”
Cali’s eyes cross. Lizzy Bee’s tongue slides out like a mouse. Eva picks her nose with every ounce of her being.
KerrrrCHICK!!!
A plume of smoke wafts from the top of the mechanism. Mr. Hugabug appears from under the black sheet and shakes his head at Father.
“Girls, Mr. Hugabug’s time is precious. Lets try it again, all right? Lizzy Bee, please leave your dress on. Everyone smile. Three sweet smiles pleeeeeeze.
KerrrrCHICK!!!
‘Lizzy Bee!!!” The girls giggle. Mr. Hugabug dances a surprised jig into his camera. Father’s well-honed reflexes arrest its fall.
‘All right. All right. Lets be pretty young ladies now, all right? Oh my God. Mr. Hugabug, are you all right? Girls, simmer down. Lets see how pretty we are, shall we? Everyone sit up. Eva sweetie, can I have those matches? Please? Please? All right, put that out. Eva! CAI NO!’
SLAM!!!
‘Thank you Cali, dear.’
Mr. Hugabug seeks refuge under his black sheet once more. Lizzy Bee waves like a queen. Eva snarls like a bear. Cali pretends to pass out.
KerrrrCHICK!!!
Mr. Hugabug stands reluctantly and eyes the severely locked liquor cabinet on the far wall.
Father exhales sharply to ease the heavy throb in his chest. “One more time, sir. Please. They’re just a little riled up this evening.’
Mr. Hugabug shakes his head in disbelief and hides under his sheet.
Kerrrr- “CALIGULA MAY BRAUN YOU PUT THAT MOUSE TRAP DOWN LIZZY BEE CLOSE YOUR MOUTH EVA LOOK AT THE CAMERA SIMMER THE BLOODY HELL DOWN RIGHT NOW!!!” -CHICK!!!
The smoke from the mechanism floats around Father’s ears. Mr. Hugabug tilts his head at Father.
“I think we’ll take the first one, sir.” Father’s voice is timid and beseeching. His hand grips the front of his shirt tightly “How much do I owe you?”
Digital Exile 