The head came off as soon as the
body slammed down the bottom of the stairs. The head rolled against the
wall, careened across the floor and settled into the dust beneath the
couch. Sam came barreling down the stairs, unaware that the head was
gone. He picked up the GI Joe that was sprawled in an unhuman-like
position near the last step -- one leg this way and the other leg, that
way, and the arms behind the back -- and he ran his fingers along the
neck. No head. Sam glanced around, making sure his grandmother was
nowhere near. GI Joe had been a gift, just 15 minutes ago, and now, the
head was gone. He didn't want to deal with her anger. Again, he rolled
his fingers over the nub where the head had been. Then Sam got down on
his hands and knees to look for the missing appendage. He found other
lost treasures -- a moldy jelly bean, a paper clip, an old credit card.
But no head. He could feel tears starting to well up inside him, and it
made him embarrassed that he would be so sad over a doll. He heard a
sound. Sam looked around. The sound seemed to be coming from underneath
the couch. It sounded like a head, rolling. Sam got a bit scared.
Ghosts and spirits scared him. He knew they were real. Maybe the ghost
of GI Joe was mad at him. Maybe the head was coming back to life. He
heard his grandmother in the kitchen. He had to move fast. Sam slowly
approached the couch. The sound got louder. He got more frightened.
Footsteps. His grandmother. Sam lifted up the fabric covering of the
couch and the head of GI Joe came rolling out at him. He jumped back.
His grandmother called his name, spurring him to reach out and take the
head in his hands. In an instant, he had popped the head of GI Joe back
onto the nub of the neck. His grandmother came into the room but
ignored Sam completely. Instead, she was scolding her cat, Scout, who
had emerged from the other end of the couch in a catnip-inspired panic
and was tearing his claws into the side of the cushion. Sam looked at
GI Joe right in the eye and smiled.
