Ribmiz took one look at the would-be burglar sprawled out in the street and was horrified. Sure, she'd saved Mother Kisky from harm and kept her handbag from being stolen, but in the process she'd hurt someone. Not exactly an innocent someone, but a someone nonetheless. While Ribmz was trying to figure out how she could have done such a thing, Mother Kisky was beside herself with joy. She'd always known her little Ribmz was destined for greatness, but who knew her very own child could bring down giants like the thieving lout still unconscious but slightly snoring in the road. Ribmz was her David who'd felled the evil thieving Goliath. She was so proud, and she knew Oizy would have been squeeking with pleasure if only she'd lived through the Monkey Pox. However, Mother Kisky knew that expressing her joy would have to wait. The immediate problem was that there was a man out cold in the street, and her Ribmz was responsible.
What if someone had seen what had happened? How could they explain the glow-in-the-dark boogers that had come shooting out of Ribmz's nose and found their target as surely as if the thief had a bullseye painted on the back of his head? There wasn't another soul on the street, but could they be sure that no one inside one of the houses had heard the commotion on the street and looked outside to find out the cause of the ruckus? What if someone had called the police? The last thing Mother Kisky wanted was to be confronted by a policeman asking probing questions about a witness sighting of something that glowed in the dark and looked like neon green marble sized projectiles. Where Mother Kisky came from in Yugoslavia, the police were not sympathetic to women and children out on the street after dark. She had to get Ribmz to pull herself together and convince her to hurry as fast as she could to the safety of home.
This was easier said than done since all Ribmz could do was look at the mess she'd made of the back of the thief's head. His hair was matted and tangled and greasy before he attacked her mother. His hair was still matted and tangled and greasy, but now it had the addition of something wet and sticky oozing through it. Ribmz had never seen anyone bleed before. She was not enjoying the experience.
Suddenly Mother Kisky heard the sound of sirens. They weren't too far away, and they were coming closer and closer. If she looked off in the distance, she could see the reflection of the red lights of what could have been a police car heading in their direction. There was no more time to let Ribmz stand there glassy-eyed and nearly catatonic. The child had to move and move now before the coppers showed up and hauled them off to jail -- possibly for murder!
Mother Kisky tried to rouse Ribmz by talking softly to her and whispering Yugoslavian terms of endearment in her ear. "Please, Brozfha (my little pig snout), we must hurry home." Ribmz showed no sign she'd even heard her mother speak. Mother Kisky tried lifting Ribmz and carrying her home. Ribmz was a rather stocky child who was stiff as a board and rooted to the street as though someone had nailed her shoes right into the blacktop. As the sound of the sirens came closer and closer and Mother Kisky became more and more desperate, she finally did what any normal mother would do. She slapped Ribmz up along side the head and told her to move her sorry little ass right now or she was grounded for the rest of her life. Mother Kisky grabbed Ribmz's hand and started running, yanking Ribmz right along with her. After stumbling for a second or two, Ribmz finally came to her senses and ran as fast as she could after her mother. Neither one looked back until they were safely inside their own front door with the double deadbolt locked firmly behind them.
To be continued....