New Fiction: About the Game
There is a toddler holding a small orange Wiffle bat in the hallway of a house that may be yours. What is at peril will be based on your gender and social class when you meet that toddler in the hallway.
If you are a male, you will hope no cameras are around to capture the toddler's impression of Alex Rodriguez during the 2004 ALCS, swinging and chopping at everything that's round and pallid. If you are also poor, you will wish you could afford a camera, make money the 1980s way.
If you are a female, there are probably picture frames on the wall in the hallway. The thump against the wall will be enough to break the photo of you and the toddler on its first birthday wearing cake like a grin out of the K-Mart phantom zone. You will have to hold the toddler away from the crop of glass, whether you are poor or not.
If you are a hermaphrodite, you will never be in peril.
According to the rules of Wiffle ball, an ordinary broom handle serves as a suitable substitute in the event a Wiffle bat is not readily available. In this case, how does who you are affect how much peril you might place yourself in? How many runs will the toddler score? How will your body keep track?
J. Bradley is the author of Dodging Traffic (Ampersand Books, 2009) and The Serial Rapist Sitting Behind You is a Robot (Safety Third Enterprises, 2010). He is the Interview Editor of PANK Magazine and lives at iheartfailure.net.