Page 60 of Reptile Dysfunction
For the rescue sequence, Dorothy, Mabel, and Iris perform their choreographed “distress,” which I’m sure looks more dramatic than the actual drowning it’s meant to represent. I circlethem protectively before guiding them to “safety,” all while maintaining what Iris calls my “commanding presence.”
Through it all, I keep catching Sloane’s eye. Each time, she gives me a subtle nod or smile that somehow makes this entire ridiculous situation feel worthwhile.
The finale approaches—the emergence sequence that the Silver Swimmers have been most excited about. Taking a deep breath, I execute the underwater flip that propels me toward the steps. Rising from the water with deliberate slowness, I feel water cascading from my snakes as the lights hit their sequined bow ties from all angles, creating a kaleidoscope effect that draws appreciative murmurs from the audience.
The Silver Swimmers arrange themselves in their fan formation around me as I complete the final rippling motion that represents monsters and humans in harmony. As the music builds to its conclusion, I raise my arms in the practiced gesture that Dorothy insisted would be “cinematically powerful.”
The applause is immediate and surprisingly enthusiastic. Children at the viewing window bang excitedly on the glass. Several monster business owners rise for a standing ovation, quickly joined by others until most of the audience is on their feet.
Through my water-blurred vision, I see Sloane clapping and laughing, her eyes shining with something that looks suspiciously like pride. Next to her, the RNN reporter is scribbling notes while her cameraman continues filming.
“Take a bow!” Iris hisses, nudging me with her elbow.
As I bow, water still dripping off my snakes, something unexpected happens. Although my snakes have been surprisingly well-behaved throughout the performance, they suddenly abandon all pretense of choreographed dignity and begin their own impromptu bow sequence. Sterling leads the charge, positioning himself front and center where the most cameras are aimed, his sequined bow tie glittering magnificently.
The audience gasps, then bursts into delighted laughter and even louder applause. Children squeal with excitement at the viewing window, jabbing little fingers toward my snakes, who bask shamelessly in the attention.
“They’re worse than toddlers,” I mutter. My snakes are simply doing what I’ve finally learned to do—stepping fully into the light, unapologetically themselves.
As we exit the pool, my snakes continue their impromptu performance, swaying in greeting to audience members who approach with congratulations. Sterling, unsurprisingly, positions himself for optimal exposure, creating poses that would make runway models envious.
“That,” Sebastian says, approaching with Aspen, “was something I never thought I’d live to see.”
“Me neither,” I admit. My snakes immediately arrange themselves in their natural formation, their tiny bow ties still somehow perfectly positioned despite the underwaterperformance, though several continue to show off for nearby cameras.
“Uncle Thad!” A breathless Milo, Aspen’s five-year-old son, races over to join us from where he had been watching next to his best friend, Tyler, at the viewing window. “You are really sparkly. All the kids think you were GREAT. You’re the BEST uncle in the whole world.” This said with a tight hug around my wet legs, oblivious to the fact that he is getting soaked.
I put my hand on his head. “Thanks, Milo. That means the world to me. You’re my favorite nephew.” He pulls back from the hug as Sebastian reaches for him and swings him up onto his broad shoulders, much to Milo’s squealing delight.
“You were amazing.” Sloane appears at my side with a large towel, somehow managing to look both polished and utterly kissable in her celebration attire. “The Regional News Network wants an interview.”
“About the water ballet?”
“About Guardian Solutions, actually.” Her eyes sparkle with barely contained excitement. “Apparently, word has spread about your unique approach to security. They’re doing a feature on innovative monster-owned businesses. And hey,” she playfully punches my shoulder, “who wouldn’t want to work with such a cuddly and approachable guy?”
“From water ballet to television,” I mutter. “Quite the evolution.”
“Speaking of evolution,” Sloane says, lowering her voice, “you’ve transformed more than just your purpose. You’ve made me rethink everything I thought I wanted.”
My snakes all swivel her way together, like a chorus line suddenly remembering they’ve got the same cue.
“I’ve been thinking too,” I say, aware of the public setting but suddenly not caring who hears. “And I think—”
“Thaddeus!” Iris interrupts, approaching with a local reporter in tow. “Channel Five wants a statement about your performance!”
Sloane squeezes my hand. “Later,” she mouths, stepping back to let me handle the media attention that apparently comes with being “The Protector of the Deep.”
As I answer questions about the symbolic meaning of the water ballet (mostly making up meaningful-sounding interpretations on the spot), I keep Sloane in my peripheral vision. She’s talking animatedly with the RNN reporter, occasionally gesturing toward me or the Guardian Solutions logo prominently displayed on banners around the celebration.
As the media attention finally fades and the celebration shifts toward the evening’s more formal events, I find Sloane waiting by the exit. Her smile makes every snake on my head sway with pleasure.
“Ready for the next part?” she asks, offering her hand. “The mayor’s speech, the official Guardian Solutions announcement, and probably more interviews.”
“As long as I don’t have to wear those damn flashy-blinky bowties again,” I say, taking her hand and letting my snakes reach toward her hopefully.
“Don’t worry,” she grins. “Though I think you’ve started something. The Silver Swimmers are already planning next year’s performance. Something about ‘Sequins Under the Sea: The Return.’”
My snakes visibly deflate, making her laugh.
