CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS vii
(Autistic Author)
The film starts, and for a while, the only
sound is the muffled dialogue and the
occasional sniffle from Chip. Karen's
hand finds its way to Plankton's, giving it
a gentle squeeze. He flinches at first but
then relaxes slightly, allowing her
contact.
Plankton's antennae still
and he turns to look at Chip, who's
staring at the screen, lost
in the fantasy.
Karen watches them both, torn
between anger and pity. She knows
Plankton's anger isn't directed at Chip,
but it's hard to see her son hurt.
The movie plays on, the sound of
laughter and adventure a stark contrast
to the heavy silence that hangs over
them. Plankton's antennae twitch as he
glances at Chip, his eye flickering with
regret.
Karen feels the tension in the room
begin to ease as Chip becomes
engrossed in the film. He shifts closer to
Plankton, seeking comfort without
words. Plankton's antennae droop
slightly, and he sighs, his grip on the
armrest of the couch tightening.
The film starts, and for a while, the only
sound is the muffled dialogue and the
occasional sniffle from Chip. Karen's
hand finds its way to Plankton's, giving it
a gentle squeeze. He flinches at first but
then relaxes slightly, allowing her
contact.
Plankton's antennae still
and he turns to look at Chip, who's
staring at the screen, lost
in the fantasy.
Karen watches them both, torn
between anger and pity. She knows
Plankton's anger isn't directed at Chip,
but it's hard to see her son hurt.
The movie plays on, the sound of
laughter and adventure a stark contrast
to the heavy silence that hangs over
them. Plankton's antennae twitch as he
glances at Chip, his eye flickering with
regret.
Karen feels the tension in the room
begin to ease as Chip becomes
engrossed in the film. He shifts closer to
Plankton, seeking comfort without
words. Plankton's antennae droop
slightly, and he sighs, his grip on the
armrest of the couch tightening.
During a particularly suspenseful scene,
Chip reaches out and grabs Plankton's
arm instinctively.
But the sudden touch sends Plankton
spiraling. His antennae shoot up, and he
starts to shake uncontrollably.
"Daddy?" Chip asks, his grip tightening
in concern.
Plankton's body jolts, his antennae
flailing wildly as his eye roll back.
"Daddy!" Chip's voice is filled with fear
as he clutches his father's arm tighter.
Plankton's tremors only worsen, his
body convulsing in a way that's both
frightening and heartbreaking.
Karen's realizes what's happening.
"Chip, let go!" she cries.
"Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice
trembling with fear.
Plankton's shaking becomes more
intense, his antennae flailing as if trying
to escape the confines of his own body.
His mouth opens in a silent scream.
Karen's knows this isn't a ‘seizure’ but
something else entirely—a meltdown, a
result of the overwhelming emotions
he's been trying to hold in. She rushes
to his side with worry.
"Chip, let go of him," she says, her voice
urgent. Plankton's shaking becomes
more intense, his antennae thrashing
about like seaweed in a storm.
Karen quickly moves closer, her own
hands gentle as she pries Chip's tight
grip from Plankton's arm. "Chip, sweetie,
let Daddy breathe," she says, her voice
firm yet filled with empathy.
"What's wrong with him?" he stammers,
voice trembling.
Karen's full of sadness as she
takes Chip into her arms, gently peeling
him away from Plankton's convulsing
form. "It's ok, baby," she murmurs, her
voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Daddy's
just having a hard time right now."
Her movements are swift and sure as
she guides Chip away from the couch,
her gaze never leaving Plankton. His
body is still racked with tremors, his
antennae a wild mess of emotions. She
knows that touch can be overwhelming
for Plankton in moments like these, so
she keeps her distance, giving him the
space he needs.
"Why is he doing that?" Chip
whispers, his voice shaky with fear.
Karen's heart aches as she holds him
close, trying to shield him from the
harshness of the world.
"It's called a meltdown, sweetie," she
explains gently, her voice a soothing
balm. "Sometimes, when some
neurodivergent people get really upset
or overwhelmed, their bodies may react like
this."
Karen's on Plankton, who's still
trembling on the couch, his antennae a
blur of distress. She knows he needs
space, yet her instinct is to comfort him.
With Chip in her arms, she keeps a safe
distance, speaking softly so as not to
add to the sensory overload.
"Plankton," she says, her voice steady
despite the turmoil in her heart. "It's
ok. Just breathe."
Plankton's body continues to spasm, his
antennae a frantic tapestry of emotions.
Karen's filled with a fierce determination
as she carefully approaches him, her
movements slow and calculated to avoid
triggering more distress.
"Plankton," she whispers, her voice a
gentle lullaby amidst the chaos. "I'm
here."
Slowly, his antennae begin to still, his
body calming as he registers her
presence. "It's ok," she repeats.
With trembling hands, she reaches out
to stroke his back, the barest touch.
Plankton's body relaxes slightly, his
breaths coming in deep, shaky gasps.
"Just breathe," she whispers again, her
hand moving in a soothing rhythm. "It's
ok, you're ok."
Plankton's antennae slow their erratic
dance, his body following suit. The
tremors subside, leaving him drained
and panting.
"Daddy?" Chip whispers, peering over Karen's shoulder.
Karen nods, still on Plankton. "He's ok
now," she says softly. "It's just his brain's
way of letting out all the big feelings."
Chip watches, his grip on Karen
tightening. "Is he going to be ok?" he
asks, his voice small.
Karen nods, her eyes never leaving
Plankton. "Yes," she murmurs. "Just give
him a moment."
The room is silent except for Plankton's
uneven breathing. The colors from the
TV flicker across their faces, painting
them in a strange, unsettling light. Karen
can feel Chip's little heart beating
against hers, and she knows he's
scared.
"It's ok," she whispers again, her voice a
beacon of calm in the storm. "Daddy just
needs some
time."
Plankton's antennae droop, his body
finally still. His eye meets hers, a silent
apology in the depths of his gaze. Karen
nods, her hand still on his back, offering
assurance without words.
"Chip," she says, her voice still low, "can
you go to your room for a bit?"
He nods, eyes still glued to his
father, but he doesn't protest. With a
heavy heart, Karen watches her son
disappear down the corridor, the door
clicking shut behind him.
Turning her full attention to Plankton,
she sits down beside him, her hand
resting lightly on his back. His breathing
is still ragged, his antennae barely
moving.
"I'm sorry," Plankton whispers, his voice
hoarse.
Karen nods with
understanding. "We'll talk to him," she
says gently. "But first, let's make sure
you're ok."
Plankton's body still
trembling slightly. Karen keeps her hand
on his back, her touch a silent promise
that she's there for him.
Karen's hand moves in gentle circles,
trying to soothe him. "You don't have to
apologize," she says firmly. "You are
who you are, and we love you for it."
Plankton's antennae twitch, and he
looks up at her, his single eye brimming
with unshed tears. "But I don't know how
to be a good dad like this," he chokes
out.
Karen's heart breaks at his words, but
she keeps her voice steady. "You're
already a great dad, Plankton," she
says. "You just need to find a way to
show Chip that."
He looks at her, hope and doubt warring
in his expression. "How?" he asks, his
voice barely a whisper.
Karen takes a deep breath, gathering
her thoughts. "By teaching him," she
says gently. "By letting him in, just like
you're letting us in now."
Plankton's antennae droop, and he
nods. "I know," he says, his voice filled
with regret. "But it's hard. I don't want
him to see me like this."
Karen squeezes his hand. "He already
does," she says gently. "And he loves
you anyway."