johnson wilson and the case of the broken baby is a short photo-story in six parts, written and staged by pamela klaffke and her daughter, emma.
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johnson wilson is eight, she is a private investigator. her arch-enemy is the trickster. she goes to discos. she has a dog called trent. she drinks white wine. she has no parents. PART ONE Oh, that trickster is up to his old tricks again and this time he’s broken the baby. It’s not like me and the baby are best friends or anything, but she was always following me around, crashing at my place, showing up at the disco and crawling around the dance floor in my gold sequined dress and then trying to say that she didn’t by yelling, “no! no! no!” and crying really loud. I knew she was lying because was there dried up drool on the front of the dress and a streak of poo inside. If you’re going to borrow my clothes without asking then at least wear a diaper and don’t try to lie, but the baby wasn’t very smart and I didn’t even have to do an investigation for one second to know what she did. I didn’t think much about it when I hadn’t seen her in a few days. Maybe she was in a playpen somewhere with her annoying baby friends, crying and pooing and pretending not to know how to talk or how to get into discos by not wearing a diaper because they smell and show through clothes. But I knew something was up when the trickster left a message on my walkie-talkie inviting me for sushi lunch at the sushi restauranté – his treat. The trickster never treated, so I knew right away that part had to be a trick and I didn’t know why he wanted to meet me since we didn’t hang out anymore. We used to be best friends: me, trent, shifty, the trickster, but one time the trickster kept imitating me and doing everything I did and repeating everything I said and so I hated him. Then one day when I was at school the teacher was reading a book about being nice and saying you’re sorry when you are mean to someone and I thought maybe the trickster was being nice like that. But I wasn’t going to take any chances, and put on my investigator’s disguise. I got to the sushi restauranté right on time and no one could tell it was me because I was undercover under my hat. There was a tray of sushi waiting for me at the table, but the trickster wasn’t there — only his picture, and the left arm of the baby. I could tell it was going to take my very best investigation skills to solve this case and put the baby back together. |
