"Yes, qu-what? W-what? Maria?" he said, trying to decide what was going on. The children rushed in talking at all levels of volume, sanity, seriousness, and truth as he said the following to his wife: Didn't we do this yesterday?"
"Georg?" Maria had obviously taken the two signs to prove that he was sick. He knew he wasn't. But he was. He had to be. And the roar of the children didn't help over his rattling, insane brain. He ran into the bathroom rather frantically, hurriedly pushing past his own children. He checked the mirror. It was him all right. Looking the same, feeling the same. But why...? What?
The ghost of shock had overcome him and he quickly tried to wash his face, and brush his teeth without completely losing his mind. Water ended up all over the bathroom. Poor Kurt tried to come in and see what was wrong with his father, but merely got splashed. Georg heard Kurt say from behind the door, "I think he is sick."
Liesl and Marta quickly ran in to tell him the news. "Father-"
"Not nowl!" he shouted, almost slamming the door on her fingers. He hung his head after she scampered out and seemed to calm down a bit. He left the bathroom and apologized briefly to Liesl and Marta.
"We got a telegram," Liesl said, as if in reply to his apology.
"Wonderful. From Max, right?" Georg said rather sarcastically, which was unusual for him, and upset his daughter slightly.
"Yes. How did you guess?" she asked, following him merrily down the obviously smaller staircase.
"Déjà vu," he simply stated, leaving her to ponder it while he departed for the kitchen. "Oatmeal? Maria? That's the same-I mean, er, same thing I wanted last night. How did you know?" he smiled nervously.
"And Daddy," Marta said, Fraulein Maria-er-Mother is going to take us to the zoo! Mother said you could come too!"
Liesl chimed in, "That is if you're feeling well enough, father."
"Uh-yes," he responded, certainly not as sure as the day-before. Was it the day before? He wasn't sure.
"Umm...oh yes, aren't you going to read the telegram?" Liesl asked persistenly.
"Of course dear," he said. He needed more evidence. This is what it said.
HELLO GEORG -- STOP -- IT'S MAX -- STOP -- HOW ARE THE CHILDREN? -- STOP -- I'M DROPPING BY FOR A FEW DAYS -- STOP -- BY THE TIME YOU GET THIS I'LL BE THERE AT AROUND THREE O'CLOCK -- STOP -- OR FIFTEEN O'CLOCK FOR YOU MAYBE, BEING IN THE NAVY AND ALL -- STOP -- GOOD DAY -- STOP - Georg, not-so-surprisingly found another telegram.
DEAREST GEORG -- STOP -- I AM COMING ALONG ALSO WITH MAX -- STOP -- I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND -- STOP -- ARE YOU DOING WELL? -- STOP-- ARE THE CHILDREN WELL? -- STOP -- AND MARIA? -- STOP -- SEE YOU SOON DEAREST -- STOP -- BARONESS SCHRAEDER -- STOP --
Georg went briskly out to their rather large 9-person car. They had gotten a new one. Georg almost did what he had done the day before, space out, but instead he was very precise and paid attention to what he was doing. No more did he sit in the passenger's seat, or need a reminder from Maria to remember what he was doing. He wished he did, however.
Once again, everything went wrong. Georg did but sigh.
This place is very lovely. I like the colors surrounding all the..." she shuddered... "animals' cages. They're so beautiful," Elsa said.
"Yes they are aren't they?" Maria looked at Elsa oddly.
Max, sensing something not very good, hurried them along. "Come along Elsa. Let's see the bunny rabbits."
"Oh yes!" Elsa seemed relieved. "With their white fluffy bodies and pink ears-"
"They don't have to be white-" Brigitta butted in.
"Oh yes dear I know, but they are so cute with their teeth and the way they just nibble on their food-do you think they'll let us pick them up?"
"No." Brigitta said solemnly. "They never do."
"Oh yes of course dear."
Georg let this be, not everything could be different, he'd just have to deal with it. Again. Maybe next time he'd tell Brigitta to hush. Nicely, of course. As he walked, he thought about what he had just thought (A/N: That's metacognitive-something.) about. Had he really thought that this would happen again? It couldn't. It could. Would it? Could it? He got very nervous about this. How many times can this be repeated? Am I stuck in this hellhole forever? Is that even possible? Am I going crazy? All of these questions and more circled around and around in his head until he felt like he was on a roller coaster though he had never been on one before. He felt like he was spinning around and around when he was a little kid and had nothing else to do. Everything was happening too fast. Too many colors! Too many things to think about!!
He blacked out.
The children's sinring (and Maria's, of course) awakened him. Max had placed him on the couch near where the children were singing. What had happened?
"...soon their duet will become a trio..."
Oh, no, the song again. He dearly loved his children, and he knew they loved him back, and the same with his wife, and he loved their singing, because they sung beautifully, and they loved doing it...but...he had heard that song twice in his lifetime, and then there were those little times where Louisa or Brigitta or even Maria would hum it to themselves, and though Georg was not normally strict anymore, he would gruffly yet kindly ask them to stop. But this...again...he sunk his head back on the couch.
A/N: Not much left to say: Just that I'm done, and thank you for reading. Yes I finally updated. Anyway, thanx to u guys for reviewing, and hopefully I'll update soon.
For the fans (ie. Updatinggood, nonupdatingbad)
FACTOR A: I have lots of storiesnegative FACTOR B: I know where I'm going with thispositive FACTOR C: It is no longer humid where I live so the keyboards are no longer stickypositive FACTOR D: I am a horrible updaternegative.
What do you think, Wendell Wandificient, the marvelous magical magnificent (splendiferous) mathematician? (Don't ask)