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Steve was so excited to have a new family move into the neighborhood. It's not that he didn't like his neighbors; Old Mrs.
Edison always dropped a cookie in his pocket as he was walking to school, but when it came to things like playing catch or
riding bikes, well... let's just say old people don't have bones like we do. Mr. Bartley was a nice man too, and wasn't in
his mid-seventies, but unfortunately for Steve he had recently realized that the clock was ticking and was often rushing out
of town to meet various women from the internet. What Steve really needed was a kid his age, someone who would walk with
him to school, go to the park with him, and occasionally help him leave 'surprise' packages on mean old Mr. Feldstein's porch.
One fateful day, Steve's mother informed him that the new family had moved in right next door, and they had one child:
a boy named Harry. He was just a little younger, and Steve was sure they would be instant friends.
The following day, Steve walked over to Harry's house and knocked on the door. Harry's parents were still busy moving
things around the house, so they absently waved Steve up the stairs to Harry's room. Harry walked up the stairs and opened
the door.
He stood in a very dark room for what seemed like ages until he found the light switch and flipped it on. "EEEEE!"
shouted a voice from the opposite side of the room. Steve looked and saw a little boy with the whitest skin he'd ever seen,
crouching in the corner and shielding his eyes irritably.
"Hello, Harry," said Steve with his hand out. "I'm your neighbor Steve and I think we could be friends."
Harry handed Steve a pair of surgical gloves. Without asking for an explanation, Steve put them on and then the two formally
shook hands. The motion shook a lot of white powder into the air, and Steve realized that the boy had covered himself in
baby powder from head to toe. He sneezed.
"AGH!" shrieked Harry, retreating to his corner again. "How could you? Don't you know I'm SUSCEPTIBLE???"
Steve apologized profusely and excused himself for the day.
The following afternoon Steve returned to Harry's room, already prepared with latex gloves and a surgical mask. This
time they spent a long while talking about everything that little boys talk about: sports, mudpies, and the ethical issues
behind stem cell research. As Steve was leaving, the two shook hands again, and suddenly Harry fell to the floor and started
convulsing. "What's wrong?" asked Steve in a panic.
"Latex allergy..." sputtered Harry, "horrible...pain."
"You mean you developed one since yesterday?" asked Steve.
"Help... call... 9..11" said Harry in a raspy voice.
Steve ran out of the house in a hurry and forgot to bid farewell to Harry's parents on his way out. From this day forth,
Harry only permitted Steve to enter if he wore sandwich bags over his hands.
Steve continued to meet with Harry on many more (and fortunately uneventful) occasions, and on one particularly pleasant
and sunny day he convinced Harry to meet him at the park. He waited for a very long time in his surgical mask and latex gloves
with sandwich bags over them. Just as he was about to give up and leave, he saw Harry approaching in a rickety old wheelchair.
"But you could walk yesterday!" complained Steve, "I wanted us to play football."
"It's my achilles tendonitis," explained Harry, "it's really quite painful." Steve grumbled briefly
and then decided they should take a walk/ roll down his favorite trail. Harry agreed, and they enjoyed themselves for several
hours. At one point along the trail, they came across a stand that sold soda, snacks, and fresh peanuts by the pound. Steve
asked if Harry would split a pound of peanuts with him, but Harry declined. "Terrible allergy," he said.
Harry was a little thirsty though, so he opted for a soda. Well at least he doesn't think he's a diabetic, thought Steve.
Steve bought himself the peanuts and the two continued down the trail. Later on, Steve started realizing that there was no
chance he'd ever finish the peanuts by himself.
'Maybe if I prove to him he isn't allergic,' thought Steve, 'then all these perfectly good peanuts won't go to waste.
And maybe, just maybe, he'll see how silly he's being and I can finally take these bags off my hands.'
Fortunately for Steve, Harry had become momentarily distracted by a squirrel dragging a donut across the trail. Steve
crushed up a few peanuts and slipped them into Harry's coke while he wasn't looking. Soon, the squirrel gave up on the donut
and Harry returned to sipping his soda.
Steve was smiling at his excellent plan, when suddenly Harry dropped out his wheelchair, started wheezing, and turned
very red in the face. He flailed about for a few moments, and then he lay very still. Steve dropped his bag of peanuts and
stared, mouth and eyes agape. Harry didn't get up. The sun was starting to set, and soon it would be time for dinner. "That's
enough, Harry, it's time to go home," said Steve. He glanced down at his fallen bag of peanuts and then at his friend
who still did not move.
As if realizing something for a split second, Steve stood rigid and then began to back away from the limp body of his
friend. Shaking his head, Steve turned and began to walk home... his head drooping, his eyes wide and staring at the sandwich
bags on his hands.
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