By Yves Dropper, Special to The Brutal Times, TORONTO – As Toronto spreads its broken wings and learns to fly this was a moment that was only waiting to arrive.
Picture, if you will, a bright sunny day on a garbage-strewn Toronto bus (known commonly here as the TTC, for ‘Toronto Bus’). In the back, a young middle-class stereomom. Her vivacious hair tied back in a tie, she basks in the warm afternoon son, affectionately tousling the frizzy do of her 5-year-old afternoon son, as he ticks of his favorite playthings.
“I like G.I. Joe, and Batman, and Robin,” he says.
“Uh huh,” comments his mother, sitting mere inches away.
“And Spiderman, and Superman, and Captain America and,” he elaborates.
“Uh huh,” encourages his mom, her face freezing into a sliding mass of mud which begins dripping to pool in the floor beneath her Crocs.
“And Wolverine, and Curious George and Hulk, and…”
“And Batman and Robin and Captain America and…”
“And Wolver…ine, and G.I Joe, and…”
“And Spider…man, and…”
“Ugh – hugggggh-”
“But most of all, I love Barbie.”
“Ugh – wha?!?”
“Most of all, I love Barbie.”
People around the bus began snickering. A guy about 60 silences a belly laugh. The bus driver chances a glance at the stereomom and her kid in the rearview.
“I love my Barbie.”
Leaning in – “Ssh, Ssh, don’t say that.”
Laughing – “That’s, that’s, soo funny.”
Catching herself – “No, it’s not.”