Treason

In 1985, Bill’s parents brought home this expensive new Weight Talker talking bathroom scale, and proudly placed in in their sole bathroom at the top of the stairs. They thought it was grand. They wouldn’t ever again have to find their eyeglasses in order to read the scale.

Here’s how it worked: First, you pushed one of the five buttons that you’d claimed as yours. In a robotic male voice, the scale greeted you with “Good morning,” regardless of the time of day, then it politely requested you to “Please step on the scale.” It then broadcast your weight, and THEN told you how much weight you’d gained (or less likely, lost). And always finished with “Have a nice day.” Right. You’ve just called me a fatso, and now you think I’m going to have a nice day?

Anyway.

Ginger was three years old, when Big Mouth moved into her grandparents’ bathroom. One Sunday evening, we were all enjoying drinks in the living room before supper, when we heard GOOD MORNING. PLEASE STEP ON THE SCALE. YOU WEIGH 27 POUNDS. YOU HAVE LOST 135 POUNDS SINCE THE LAST TIME. HAVE A NICE DAY.

Bill’s parents about died. It had not occurred to them that their talking scale could give up their secrets with zero remorse. And that you could hear it from every room in the house, including the basement, because it echoed down the laundry chute.

The traitor was allowed to stay, but with greatly reduced privileges. It was only allowed to weigh grandchildren, pets, and the occasional unsuspecting (and mortified) house guest.