Captain Kangaroo was conversing back and forth with both Mr. Green Jeans and Mr. Moose on the television while Isaac spoke in a low, overcast tone to his father over the phone.

Dressed in the same clothes from the night before, Isaac watched Isaiah crawl and romp about on the floor with his Fisher Price toy phone while he sipped away on his fourth cup of coffee for the morning. Isaac's mind was from the TV and drifting even further away from his son.

Every so often he would stare down at his scarred fingernails that felt as if someone had pierced each of them with sharp needles.

"Isaac, are you still there?" Mr. Mercer worriedly asked.

Shaking himself awake, Isaac replied, "I'm fine, dad. I just got a bad headache. Did the fuzz bring your car back yesterday?"

"Yeah, they brought it back last night. I think the carburetor needs replaced."

Just then, a long pause prevailed. The pause was soon followed by a moan from Isaac's father.

"Son...is everything alright with you? You sure don't sound fine."

Just judging by his father's stretched out gap in speech Isaac could sense that he was stressed over his grueling ordeal. All the young man could do was sit and shut his eyes in angst.

"Yeah, dad, I just need some time to...to work things out."

"Where's Lynn at?"

"She went out to get some more medicine for Isaiah. She said she'll be back before nine."

"Isaac, just relax and let the good Lord take care of everything. You've got a friend in him."

Out of helpless frustration, Isaac threw himself backwards into the

to tell you later on." He flinched, trying

work at five, come down to the

"Okay, I'll be there." Isaac hesitantly said, sitting back and wiping

"I gotta go to work now.

"I will, dad," Isaac sniffed before

noticed a frightened shakiness in his father's tenor that he hadn't heard before; it startled Isaac enough to where

"Dah," the child squealed out as he handed his father his toy

face before taking the

customary; Isaiah would just sit and clap his tiny hands as though a parade

Back and forth father and son played until the newsbreak on the television re-ran reports of the

could have possibly killed all seven

With Isaiah frolicking in his arms Isaac's eyes were locked firmly on the TV as the screen scrolled through every little Sanders girl. Their angelic faces were alive with euphoric vitality as their smiling parents held all

steady stream of drool dripped down and out of Isaac's bottom lip the longer he concentrated on the screen.

"Here!" Isaiah blurted out, handing his father his red View-Master to

and knees all shook in perfect unison as Leroy Cummins' sharply dressed photo appeared on the television. He remembered the generous man offering him a ride two days earlier, but

struggled as he lifted his aching body from off the couch, "your mom wants you to take a bath before she

off the child's body, cut on the warm water and then placed

bath Isaiah. The child actually enjoyed being wet; just splashing about in the water was all playtime for him. He knew that he should

Much like the proverbial 'fingernails across the chalkboard', Isaac couldn't help but to drown in the hellacious notion that everything that happened two nights earlier was nowhere to be found in his mind. Even the remembrances of the grueling strain of his physical transformation had ostensibly been erased, which was hard to fathom considering the pain that he had been in

sorts, from that of adults to children, and yet, had

sprinkles of soapy water splashed into Isaac's

playing with that thing, boy, it'll turn into a habit." Isaac

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