But the skin of an infant was no place for an autograph from a thick marker and the politician could only watch in horror as his signature dissolved into the baby’s face – infiltrating it like water into a sponge until the baby’s entire bald head was a dark shade of green.
“Somebody do something!” a woman screamed.
And luckily somebody did.
Without thinking twice, the rival politician tore off his jacket and wrapped it around the baby’s head. He pressed lightly so as to soak up the green ink without mashing the baby’s soft, cartilage head. When he pulled it away, everyone cheered. The baby’s head was a pretty light shade of green that wasn’t perfect, but would probably improve after a couple of rinses.
The politician took a bow and then handed the baby a caramel apple. It was too big for the baby, but the good folks applauded anyways because maybe Dad could help him eat it after the baby had been given some time to lick at the outer coating.
What we saw that day wasn’t magic, but it sure was something. But to reiterate, it definitely wasn’t magic.
THE END.
