My kid comes out of his room after going to bed. He does this sometimes because he got a double DNA dose of a head on fire and his brain, she don’t slow down much. On the occasion, he comes out with a what the hell look on his face, poses a query, and asks for clarification. I am his Google.
Tonight he wanders out and asks: What if, secretly, Morgan Freeman is retarded?
I still can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, first of all, what if Morgan Freeman is secretly cretinous? Like he’s the ultimate idiot savant only instead of glance-counting a jumble of Rainman toothpicks, he can memorize an infinite number of lines and speak with such apparent inner conviction that we’ll believe anything he says BUT as soon as the camera turns off, someone has to hand him a juice box and turn on cartoons.
Second, where in the last scorched acre of Hell’s back forty was my son’s mind when he stumbled over this imponderable? You’ll never see this kind of thing under a Snapple lid.
Finally, the real kicker, the thing that might just fucking keep me up at night: why did he think I would know?
