Timothy Barstow was cute as he could be. You’ve heard that [expression] “cute as a bug”? That was little Timmy. That’s how cute he was. He had short blond [hair] and one big blue [eye]. The other was white. He was blind in that eye. His [skin] was the [color] of [egg drop soup]. And he was thin. Thin thin thin. Aside from all that, he was cute as they come.

Sickly and thin, but cute as [the dickens]. The Barstows, unfortunately, had less than a [pot] to piss in. Ed, Timmy’s [father], sold [black velvet] [paintings] from the [trunk] of his [car]. [Elvis], [Jesus]. [Rainbows] and [unicorns]. Sandy, his [mother], said “yes dear” to Ed; that was her [job]. Might as well have been.

But as desperate and dismal as it seemed at the [time], the Barstows were sitting on a [platinum mine]. Tim Barstow could sing. Boy could he sing. You’ve heard that expression, “sings like an angel”? His voice could send chills down an [archangel]’s [spine].

What with [black velvet paintings] and “yes dears” and all that, Ed and Sandy never noticed the [gift] their son had. One day they heard him, alone in his [room], singing [gospel] and [hymns] and old [country] [tunes]. He belted out [songs], like the [frog] in “One Froggy Evening”, and like that [cartoon], Ed and Sandy got greedy.

Come see the blind [boy], come hear him sing. People did, people came. Tim Barstow’s [voice] was a [money-making machine]. Ed got a Beamer. Sandy got [jewelry]. [Bracelets] and [rings].

And Timmy got thinner. You know that expression “thin as a rail”? He was thinner than that. He walked with a [cane], he was blind in both eyes. He got yellower too. Yellower, even, than egg drop soup.

It was painfully obvious little Timmy had [cancer]. What to do, thought the Barstows, but Ed had the [answer]: Little Timmy [T-shirts] and [pillows] and [ashtrays]. A [YouTube channel] and a Little Timmy Hour, with a [house band] and [guest stars] and Little Timmy Dancers.

The [dollars] rolled in; Ed and Sandy spent them like there was no [tomorrow]. You’ve heard that expression? Sadly, there wasn’t for Timothy Barstow. When the money ran out, every [penny] and [dime], Ed looked over at little Timmy's [cane]. He turned to his wife. Think we’d get much for that? Sandy smiled. Yes dear, she replied.

Now Ed and Sandy live out of their [car], and the Barstows get by like the [grifters] they are. For people like them, this is just a [transition]. Who knows what could happen. Ed might run for [office]. [Congressman], [senator]. [President], even. Maybe give Sandy a [Cabinet position].

A [church] might be measured by the [height] of a [steeple]. [Nations], perhaps, by the [heart] of a [people], and we’re measured now by a recent [election] like [diseases] are measured by [rates] of [infection].

You’ve heard that expression, “leopards can’t change their spots”? Well it just isn’t so. That’s a [fib]. It’s a [lie]. We change every day, we get worse all the time.

The [world] once applauded our [character]. Our [spirit]. Once we were lauded for our [strength] and [ability], and now the world looks and sees something like Timmy; the world looks at us like a black velvet painting. And either that comes by a [plague] or a [pox]—or it’s always been there, like the [frog] in that [box].

The Frog in the Box (fiction)