Alex was having a strange dream. He was in high school again. But he was naked. He didn't feel embarrassed. Instead, he felt strangely liberated.
So he was in high school being lectured by his old English teacher, the one he always thought was kinda hot. She was taking down to him and he was staring at her far too ample cleavage when he realized something was wrong. He knew all of a sudden that it was a dream. So he stopped staring down her shirt and just kind of walked off out of the room as she shouted after him. He kept going until he was out of the school and suddenly he was just floating in a empty white abyss.
Alex tried to move in one way or another, but without any point of reference had no idea if he was succeeding or not. After struggling futilely for a few minutes, he cried out in frustration "Where the hell am I?"
Right after he spoke he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to face it but it disappeared. He saw it again with his peripheral vision but once again it disappeared as he tried to see it dead on.
Suddenly it was in front of him. It was a huge, treelike shape that was at least twice as big as himself. Instead of bark, it was covered in a thick rubbery substance that seemed much like a tentacle in texture, except that it was bright pink. He gaped at it before shrugging to himself and muttering "What a weird dream."
"It's not a dream," came the rumble from the creature before him.
Alex would have jumped a foot in the air had he been standing on solid ground. As it was, he merely trembled all over at the mighty rumble.
"Who said that?" he ventured.
"I did," said the weird squid tree.
"Oh," Alex replied, not sure what came next. "Well, what can I do for you?"
"I am here to correct the problem. You see, you have seen through our deception."
"Deception? What do you mean?"
"Some time ago, we began to notice some of you humans appearing at random in our home. At first, we would try to swat or kill you. You would vanish but always reappear the next cycle. Eventually, you learned to speak while crossing over and we learned somehow your minds were able to project here while you were in a renewal cycle- what you call sleep."
"So- this is a dream? But real?"
"No! This place is real, but somehow you and your species travel here in your sleep. Finding you impossible to kill or remove from our homes, we settled on containment. Our science is advanced, and although we could never find your point of origin we were able to build a detection and containment method for you when you arrive here. Unfortunately, we only have so many, which is why quite often humans have similar dreams."
"Well...why are you telling me all this? What happens now?"
"Our system is good but not perfect. Sometimes, one of you slips through the cracks. This is what happened to you. We cannot allow you to act freely in our dimension and wreak havoc. Therefore, your memory will be erased."
"You're going to erase my memory? Then why tell me any of that?"
"I believe one day you humans may be able to exert enough control to stop yourselves from coming here. As our memory removal process is far from prefect, I wish to leave you with the impression of our good will and lack of ill intent. Do try to stay away."
*********************************************
Alex awoke feeling very refreshed. He had been having one hell of a dream, but now he couldn't remember a damn thing about it. He shook his head. It didn't matter. It was just a dream, after all.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Once upon a time in Communist China
Yang was very nervous. Earlier that day, a communist official and two armed guards had come to her parent's home and demanded to know where she was. She was brought out and whisked away without another word, except that she was going to 'serve her country' as one guard said with a smirk.
She was put on a wagon and lead out of town. The Great Chairman Mao, the official told her, is staying nearby and is looking for the company of a beautiful young woman. It would be her supreme honor to be allowed to spend the night with him.
Only now did it occur to her what the official was meant. She shuddered slightly and felt her eyes water slightly but fought back the tears. It would do no good to cry, she knew. It would only cause trouble for her or her family. Or both.
She was taken to the palatial-large structure that was the Chairman's home. Everywhere she looked were items of opulence and splendor. she was taken to a large bathroom and told to take a bath and be done in 5 minutes. As she was exiting the tub, a woman in full party gear marched into the room carrying a package. She thrust it at her and barked at her to put it on quickly. It was a beautiful silk patterned dress. Once she had put it on she was sat down in front of a mirror and had her hair combed back harshly as the woman told Yang sternly to 'always smile and be sweet and gentle for the chairman and do immediately whatever he asks' or 'there will be trouble for you'.
When she was done with the hair she sprayed Yang head to toe with a strong lilac perfume that practically made her dizzy it was so strong and whisked away.
After passing through two rooms in which armed guards were posted at the doors they finally entered an empty dining room. She was ushered into one of the seats and as she sat the woman guard hissed "stand at attention when the Chairman enters!" before closing and locking the thick wooden doors.
Yang sat alone for several minutes, trying to keep herself calm by humming to herself, but her heart was beating so fast she couldn't help but be frightened. Finally, Mao entered the room and she stood at once. He was escorted by 4 guards who took up position in the four corners of the room. they were large and thuggish and leered at her from behind the chairman. He came over to her directly and kissed her hand. He was horrible. He was smaller than she thought he would be and much fatter. He seemed kind of greasy and stank as though he hadn't bathed in a long time. Worst of all were his teeth. They clearly had not been cleaned for some time and were black and shiny.
"My dear," he began. "Welcome to my home. I am happy you are here."
"Th-the honor is mine, Chairman. I am happy to serve you in anyway you need."
"Don't be frightened, child. The guards are simply here for protection. There are many anti-Bolshevik and right-wing spies out to destroy all we have built. These saboteurs would like nothing better than to eliminate myself for my courageous stand on the people's behalf."
Yang had no idea what he was talking about, so she simply said: "Yes, great Chairman."
He smiled at her then; it was a sickly, ghastly thing behind those awful teeth.
"Come; sit. We will begin to eat momentarily. I am ready."
They both took their seats and one of the guards rushed out to tell them to get the meal. Within a few moments, the food was before them. The dish was Mao's favorite, braised pork belly and steamed bread. As the food as placed before them, a woman entered and tasted the meal before Mao would allow them to eat. She gave the go ahead and they began to eat.
The food was delicious, more rich and flavorful than anything Yang had ever eaten. As a peasant, she was used to rice with the rare piece of meat served alongside. They ate mostly in silence, the Chairman mostly wolfing down his food like a pig in a trough.
As they finished eating and the dishes were cleared away, Yang felt a knot in her stomach form and get tighter and tighter. Mao stood as soon as his plate was removed and made his way to the door he had come from.
"Come with me," he said brusquely, all traces of warmth in his voice gone.
Yang stood, a little shakily, and made her way across the room to the opposite door. Before she was allowed to enter, the two guards patted her down for weapons, taking extra care on her breasts and sex. The one behind her whispered in her ear
"We will see you later," as he rubbed his crotch against her buttocks. Then he shoved her into the room.
It was a fairly large room that felt much smaller than it was as a result of a huge dominating bed. There were chairs gathered around the bed in a semi circle. The bed itself was large enough for several people but was littered with so many books that it would barely fit two. Mao sat on the edge of it.
"Sit beside me," he ordered. She did.
"You may wonder why you have been brought here. Some foreign agents condemn me as a perverted sexual predator. The truth is sometimes I need the comfort of a kindly woman to keep my demons at bay. All of my wives have are simply afraid of me and think me as a creature of simple baser urges. I have married several times to for the sake of the party and my image. But I am lonely."
Yang was confused.
"What-what do you want me to do?"
"Hold me. Tenderly, as my mother used to do. She was very dear to me, but she died long before I led our nation into the socialist paradise it is today. My pig of a father never understood me or my vision. He felt I was weak and openly derisive of my misery at the death of my mother. I never forgave him, even as he lay on his deathbed calling out to me I never again saw him."
"I'm....so sorry.."
"Don't be! He was a cruel, harsh man! I laughed when I heard of his death! But my mother...I could never save my mother...."
He started to cry, very gently. She reached out and embraced him and he began to sob loudly into her shoulder, gripping her very tightly. This went on for a long while. Eventually, the crying stopped, and he shut his eyes and leaned into her. Yang, frightened of disturbing him, barely moved an inch.
Finally, her arm slumped down slightly and Mao jerked awake and pushed her away before standing up. His eyes were red and watery but his face was otherwise inscrutable.
"Thank you for your service to the nation," he said. "It has been much appreciated by the people. However, we must never show weakness, to our enemies or to ourselves."
Mao knocked on the door and the two guards entered the room and dragged Yang out. She started to scream but was hit in the mouth with the butt of a rifle to silence her and was dragged off. Within two minutes she was up against the garden wall and shot.
As she was dragged out, Mao turned away. He didn't want the guards or the girl to see the tears that had begun to form in his eyes once again.
She was put on a wagon and lead out of town. The Great Chairman Mao, the official told her, is staying nearby and is looking for the company of a beautiful young woman. It would be her supreme honor to be allowed to spend the night with him.
Only now did it occur to her what the official was meant. She shuddered slightly and felt her eyes water slightly but fought back the tears. It would do no good to cry, she knew. It would only cause trouble for her or her family. Or both.
She was taken to the palatial-large structure that was the Chairman's home. Everywhere she looked were items of opulence and splendor. she was taken to a large bathroom and told to take a bath and be done in 5 minutes. As she was exiting the tub, a woman in full party gear marched into the room carrying a package. She thrust it at her and barked at her to put it on quickly. It was a beautiful silk patterned dress. Once she had put it on she was sat down in front of a mirror and had her hair combed back harshly as the woman told Yang sternly to 'always smile and be sweet and gentle for the chairman and do immediately whatever he asks' or 'there will be trouble for you'.
When she was done with the hair she sprayed Yang head to toe with a strong lilac perfume that practically made her dizzy it was so strong and whisked away.
After passing through two rooms in which armed guards were posted at the doors they finally entered an empty dining room. She was ushered into one of the seats and as she sat the woman guard hissed "stand at attention when the Chairman enters!" before closing and locking the thick wooden doors.
Yang sat alone for several minutes, trying to keep herself calm by humming to herself, but her heart was beating so fast she couldn't help but be frightened. Finally, Mao entered the room and she stood at once. He was escorted by 4 guards who took up position in the four corners of the room. they were large and thuggish and leered at her from behind the chairman. He came over to her directly and kissed her hand. He was horrible. He was smaller than she thought he would be and much fatter. He seemed kind of greasy and stank as though he hadn't bathed in a long time. Worst of all were his teeth. They clearly had not been cleaned for some time and were black and shiny.
"My dear," he began. "Welcome to my home. I am happy you are here."
"Th-the honor is mine, Chairman. I am happy to serve you in anyway you need."
"Don't be frightened, child. The guards are simply here for protection. There are many anti-Bolshevik and right-wing spies out to destroy all we have built. These saboteurs would like nothing better than to eliminate myself for my courageous stand on the people's behalf."
Yang had no idea what he was talking about, so she simply said: "Yes, great Chairman."
He smiled at her then; it was a sickly, ghastly thing behind those awful teeth.
"Come; sit. We will begin to eat momentarily. I am ready."
They both took their seats and one of the guards rushed out to tell them to get the meal. Within a few moments, the food was before them. The dish was Mao's favorite, braised pork belly and steamed bread. As the food as placed before them, a woman entered and tasted the meal before Mao would allow them to eat. She gave the go ahead and they began to eat.
The food was delicious, more rich and flavorful than anything Yang had ever eaten. As a peasant, she was used to rice with the rare piece of meat served alongside. They ate mostly in silence, the Chairman mostly wolfing down his food like a pig in a trough.
As they finished eating and the dishes were cleared away, Yang felt a knot in her stomach form and get tighter and tighter. Mao stood as soon as his plate was removed and made his way to the door he had come from.
"Come with me," he said brusquely, all traces of warmth in his voice gone.
Yang stood, a little shakily, and made her way across the room to the opposite door. Before she was allowed to enter, the two guards patted her down for weapons, taking extra care on her breasts and sex. The one behind her whispered in her ear
"We will see you later," as he rubbed his crotch against her buttocks. Then he shoved her into the room.
It was a fairly large room that felt much smaller than it was as a result of a huge dominating bed. There were chairs gathered around the bed in a semi circle. The bed itself was large enough for several people but was littered with so many books that it would barely fit two. Mao sat on the edge of it.
"Sit beside me," he ordered. She did.
"You may wonder why you have been brought here. Some foreign agents condemn me as a perverted sexual predator. The truth is sometimes I need the comfort of a kindly woman to keep my demons at bay. All of my wives have are simply afraid of me and think me as a creature of simple baser urges. I have married several times to for the sake of the party and my image. But I am lonely."
Yang was confused.
"What-what do you want me to do?"
"Hold me. Tenderly, as my mother used to do. She was very dear to me, but she died long before I led our nation into the socialist paradise it is today. My pig of a father never understood me or my vision. He felt I was weak and openly derisive of my misery at the death of my mother. I never forgave him, even as he lay on his deathbed calling out to me I never again saw him."
"I'm....so sorry.."
"Don't be! He was a cruel, harsh man! I laughed when I heard of his death! But my mother...I could never save my mother...."
He started to cry, very gently. She reached out and embraced him and he began to sob loudly into her shoulder, gripping her very tightly. This went on for a long while. Eventually, the crying stopped, and he shut his eyes and leaned into her. Yang, frightened of disturbing him, barely moved an inch.
Finally, her arm slumped down slightly and Mao jerked awake and pushed her away before standing up. His eyes were red and watery but his face was otherwise inscrutable.
"Thank you for your service to the nation," he said. "It has been much appreciated by the people. However, we must never show weakness, to our enemies or to ourselves."
Mao knocked on the door and the two guards entered the room and dragged Yang out. She started to scream but was hit in the mouth with the butt of a rifle to silence her and was dragged off. Within two minutes she was up against the garden wall and shot.
As she was dragged out, Mao turned away. He didn't want the guards or the girl to see the tears that had begun to form in his eyes once again.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Home Life
"You never listen, do you? You're just waiting until you're all alone and you act up! You know you're not allowed in the den, but you just do whatever you want, don't you?
What's that? You didn't mean to? You never mean it until you're caught! You just have no appreciation for the rules and for everything you've been given!
Of course you're disrespecting him! Your father is the one that wanted you in the first place! He begged and cajoled for you, married your mother for you! Your father works day in and out to put a roof over your head and all you can do is disrespect him at every turn!
Not that he minds! Your father can't wait to get away from mommy. Your father doesn't play with your mother until he's played with you!
That's why a disobedient little boy like you has to stay in the basement. That's why mommy always has to hurt you. You have to learn the lessons mommy can't teach daddy."
What's that? You didn't mean to? You never mean it until you're caught! You just have no appreciation for the rules and for everything you've been given!
Of course you're disrespecting him! Your father is the one that wanted you in the first place! He begged and cajoled for you, married your mother for you! Your father works day in and out to put a roof over your head and all you can do is disrespect him at every turn!
Not that he minds! Your father can't wait to get away from mommy. Your father doesn't play with your mother until he's played with you!
That's why a disobedient little boy like you has to stay in the basement. That's why mommy always has to hurt you. You have to learn the lessons mommy can't teach daddy."
Sent via postcard to the New York Times
I'm a super villain. I'm not one of those hold-the-world-hostage-so-I-can-be-its-supreme-ruler kind of super villains though. I'm more the crazy-guy-with-a-theme-that-robs-banks-to-get-rich kind of super villain.
They call me the Defiler. Catchy, isn't it? The media saddled me with that one. I wanted to be called "The Smogger" or something equally lame as that. But right after my first big heist some newspaper somewhere came up with the tagline "Mysterious criminal defies bank security". But a spellchecker or printer somewhere misread it and printed the headline as "Mysterious criminal defiles bank security". The next day a different paper picked up the story and called me the "Bank Defiler". And so I had my villainous name.
I know what you're thinking. Why be branded with a stupid name at all? Well, when you're fighting a guy with a name like "Captain Amazing" or "Stupendous Man", you tend to get lost in the shuffle if you don't make yourself stand out, you know? I mean, yeah, it could help get ya caught if everyone knows what you look like. But if I'd be living in a different kinda world if I were the type that'd silently sneak into a bank wearing all black. Not that I really could if I didn't want to get caught.
See, my shtick was pretty simple. I was something of a chemistry enthusiast and I came up with a couple of compounds that proved extremely useful. The first was a powerful quick acting adhesive. It could not be dissolved except through use of a solvent I had also discovered which I kept on me at all times. The second (or technically third I guess) was an acid which was capable of burning through almost anything in seconds when I added a common household ingredient(I won't say which, I'm cocky but not stupid).
Armed with these two tools, I decided that rather than try to sell it I would use it for my own personal gain. See, I've got something of an anarchistic streak. I didn't want to rob the average citizen. So I decided to target banks that held the money of the rich and scum sucking. And that's what I did.
It was almost too easy. Even though I didn't have any superheroes to fight, I had to get past a good 30 cops and security guards. I had no trouble whittling down the banks defenses and making my way through to the vault before robbing it blind.
And really, that was it. I made enough money in that single caper to live out the rest of my life in total comfort and security. So I hung up my costume and vowed never to wear it again. A couple members of one of those Hero Squads that are all over the place tried to find a lead, but since I had stopped there was nothing to find. My compounds also provided no clues, as absolutely nothing unusual in their composition and so were untraceable. I made my way to a foreign country and was never seen again.
Which brings us to now. Although I was living a life in the lap of luxury, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling of something left undone. Some people will tell you about the rush of dangerous activities, but I never went in for that. If I wanted danger I could easily afford to go skydiving or something. It wasn't boredom either. I had plenty to do and to keep me interested.
What was this: my own selfishness. If I really wanted to help people by robbing the rich, why didn't I really do it? Why not keep robbing banks and give the proceeds to charity?
So that's what I decided to do. By the time you read this letter, I'll be on my way to Europe to take care of some of those Swiss Bank accounts I've heard so much about. If I've got to be a villain, I might as well be the kind that fights for the greater good.
They call me the Defiler. Catchy, isn't it? The media saddled me with that one. I wanted to be called "The Smogger" or something equally lame as that. But right after my first big heist some newspaper somewhere came up with the tagline "Mysterious criminal defies bank security". But a spellchecker or printer somewhere misread it and printed the headline as "Mysterious criminal defiles bank security". The next day a different paper picked up the story and called me the "Bank Defiler". And so I had my villainous name.
I know what you're thinking. Why be branded with a stupid name at all? Well, when you're fighting a guy with a name like "Captain Amazing" or "Stupendous Man", you tend to get lost in the shuffle if you don't make yourself stand out, you know? I mean, yeah, it could help get ya caught if everyone knows what you look like. But if I'd be living in a different kinda world if I were the type that'd silently sneak into a bank wearing all black. Not that I really could if I didn't want to get caught.
See, my shtick was pretty simple. I was something of a chemistry enthusiast and I came up with a couple of compounds that proved extremely useful. The first was a powerful quick acting adhesive. It could not be dissolved except through use of a solvent I had also discovered which I kept on me at all times. The second (or technically third I guess) was an acid which was capable of burning through almost anything in seconds when I added a common household ingredient(I won't say which, I'm cocky but not stupid).
Armed with these two tools, I decided that rather than try to sell it I would use it for my own personal gain. See, I've got something of an anarchistic streak. I didn't want to rob the average citizen. So I decided to target banks that held the money of the rich and scum sucking. And that's what I did.
It was almost too easy. Even though I didn't have any superheroes to fight, I had to get past a good 30 cops and security guards. I had no trouble whittling down the banks defenses and making my way through to the vault before robbing it blind.
And really, that was it. I made enough money in that single caper to live out the rest of my life in total comfort and security. So I hung up my costume and vowed never to wear it again. A couple members of one of those Hero Squads that are all over the place tried to find a lead, but since I had stopped there was nothing to find. My compounds also provided no clues, as absolutely nothing unusual in their composition and so were untraceable. I made my way to a foreign country and was never seen again.
Which brings us to now. Although I was living a life in the lap of luxury, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling of something left undone. Some people will tell you about the rush of dangerous activities, but I never went in for that. If I wanted danger I could easily afford to go skydiving or something. It wasn't boredom either. I had plenty to do and to keep me interested.
What was this: my own selfishness. If I really wanted to help people by robbing the rich, why didn't I really do it? Why not keep robbing banks and give the proceeds to charity?
So that's what I decided to do. By the time you read this letter, I'll be on my way to Europe to take care of some of those Swiss Bank accounts I've heard so much about. If I've got to be a villain, I might as well be the kind that fights for the greater good.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Circus Tale
Many boys used to threaten they'd run away and join the circus, but Scott was the only one who actually did it. He was from an orphanage and understandably hated it there. So, when the circus rolled into town, he snuck out the fist chance he got and followed it out of town when it packed up.
The circus was always in need of a few boys to help clean up and make sure costumes and props were all in place for the big acts. Circus folk are nomads by trade and so are bad with organization and planning. Scott fit in well as he was eager to please and so good-natured that even the surliest of the hobo clowns never got too cross at him.
One day, the circus pulled into a small town. It was like any other town except it was a criminal offense to hold a circus there. They pulled up on the edge of town and threw everyone in the county jail, even Scott.
The next morning, they went before the judge. Scott begged him not to lock up the only family he had ever known and make him an orphan again. The judge was sympathetic but firm to the law, and although he let the circus folk go with a warning he remanded Scott to the county orphanage. He waved goodbye and off he went to the orphanage. Again.
*****************************
That's the story Scott always told us. Nobody ever believed a word of it. Who could? Mostly he just got beat up as the low man on the totem pole. But after the bullies had left I would go and fix him up and he would just smile at me knowingly. Then one day he was gone. No one ever knew what became of him, but I like to think he made his way back to that circus he always talked about. Or one like it.
The circus was always in need of a few boys to help clean up and make sure costumes and props were all in place for the big acts. Circus folk are nomads by trade and so are bad with organization and planning. Scott fit in well as he was eager to please and so good-natured that even the surliest of the hobo clowns never got too cross at him.
One day, the circus pulled into a small town. It was like any other town except it was a criminal offense to hold a circus there. They pulled up on the edge of town and threw everyone in the county jail, even Scott.
The next morning, they went before the judge. Scott begged him not to lock up the only family he had ever known and make him an orphan again. The judge was sympathetic but firm to the law, and although he let the circus folk go with a warning he remanded Scott to the county orphanage. He waved goodbye and off he went to the orphanage. Again.
*****************************
That's the story Scott always told us. Nobody ever believed a word of it. Who could? Mostly he just got beat up as the low man on the totem pole. But after the bullies had left I would go and fix him up and he would just smile at me knowingly. Then one day he was gone. No one ever knew what became of him, but I like to think he made his way back to that circus he always talked about. Or one like it.
Bad Day
Steve and Jake had both just finished work and decided to grab a beer. Although the two of them had been friends for many years, the truth is they both kind of hated each other. But without the routine and weekly bitchfests they had, neither really had any other friends they could just hang out with.
They were as different as night and day. Steve was a hockey fan while Jake preferred football. They almost always held contrarian views on any subject, be it politics or religion (Steve was a right winged lapsed catholic while Jake was a centre left agnostic jew) and had escalating arguments that got louder and louder until one nearly punched the other. It was a long friendship of almost fistfights and grumbled comebacks long after the fact.
On this particular day after work, they were both in foul moods. Jake had lost out on a promotion to a new hire while Steve had dealt with the most impossible bitchiest customers all day. Hostile and itching for a fight, they both kept escalating and escalating until suddenly something snapped and Jake socked Steve in the snout as hard as he could. Blood went everywhere all at once and seemed to be spraying out of Steve's nose. The bouncer had had enough and threw them both into the streets a second later, jamming a clean bar rag under Steve's nose as he shoved him out the door.
They both just sat on the curb for a couple of minutes, completely stunned by what had just happened. Although they had always had a combative relationship, neither Steve nor Jake ever imagined it would reach this level. Steve started to curse at Jake just then in disbelief. He just kept saying he couldn't believe it.
It might've been the beer or the lousy day but Jake started crying. He said how sorry he was and he didn't mean it, it just happened. Jake stood up and offered his hand to Steve. He accepted and the two made their way down the street. They may not be much but they were all each other had.
They were as different as night and day. Steve was a hockey fan while Jake preferred football. They almost always held contrarian views on any subject, be it politics or religion (Steve was a right winged lapsed catholic while Jake was a centre left agnostic jew) and had escalating arguments that got louder and louder until one nearly punched the other. It was a long friendship of almost fistfights and grumbled comebacks long after the fact.
On this particular day after work, they were both in foul moods. Jake had lost out on a promotion to a new hire while Steve had dealt with the most impossible bitchiest customers all day. Hostile and itching for a fight, they both kept escalating and escalating until suddenly something snapped and Jake socked Steve in the snout as hard as he could. Blood went everywhere all at once and seemed to be spraying out of Steve's nose. The bouncer had had enough and threw them both into the streets a second later, jamming a clean bar rag under Steve's nose as he shoved him out the door.
They both just sat on the curb for a couple of minutes, completely stunned by what had just happened. Although they had always had a combative relationship, neither Steve nor Jake ever imagined it would reach this level. Steve started to curse at Jake just then in disbelief. He just kept saying he couldn't believe it.
It might've been the beer or the lousy day but Jake started crying. He said how sorry he was and he didn't mean it, it just happened. Jake stood up and offered his hand to Steve. He accepted and the two made their way down the street. They may not be much but they were all each other had.
Birthday Boy
Alan hated birthdays. He saw each one as being one step closer to being in the grave. He would howl and throw a tantrum if his parents tried to throw a party or get a cake or even mentioned it was his birthday.
It all went back to when he was four years old. A well meaning uncle tried to teach him the meaning of life through death. His goldfish Sam had died and little Alan didn't understand what had happened, why his fish wasn't swimming around anymore. His uncle told him, trying to spare his feelings, that fish only live a very short time and his last birthday was up. Alan cried and cried and went to bed crying.
The next morning his parents approached him tentatively, but he seemed ok, like the normal little four year old he basically was. But months later, when they tried to plan out his birthday, he threw such a fit that they dropped it and threw him a surprise party.
So they got all his friends together, decorated the house while he was away and got ready. When he appeared at the door and everyone shouted "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" He screeched and burst into tears before running out the door and into the street, right into the path of a car. The car squealed and swerved and just barely managed to avoid hitting Alan. His parents rushed out and tried to hug him but they were wearing party hats and he squirmed and clawed and bit until they let go.
The damage to the car was thankfully negligible but that was the end of the birthday parties. Alan was now eight and had developed a full on phobia. He didn't go to other children's birthdays and so had a hard time making and keeping friends. He had been to a psychologist and had been making progress but still couldn't safely say they were out of the woods.
Doctor Dennings, while having little difficulty discerning how he had developed the problem had yet to solve why. He had tried letting Alan air out his concerns, tried to allay his fears. Nothing.
Finally, Dennings had an idea. He brought in the parents to ask what had happened to the goldfish after it had died. The father, somewhat embarrassed, replied that they had just flushed him down the toilet.
"I see," said the doctor.
Dennings then told them Alan hadn't ever gotten any closure and had come to associate death and birthdays as one and the same, a kind of torturous existential limbo. He needed to say goodbye to his fish if he ever wanted to overcome his phobia.
His parents were anxious and eager to try anything, so the next day they held a small memorial in the backyard. Dad took a small stone and carved Sam's name into it. Mom gave a eulogy, saying what a good fish Sam had been and how she missed him. Then they asked Alan if he would like to say something.
He didn't say a word, although a muffled sobbing was emanating from him. Then finally he said simply "You were my best friend and I miss you. Goodbye," before running into the house.
He didn't come out of his room until the next day for breakfast. He looked tired and a little sad, but otherwise ok. He didn't say anything much until he finished eating his cereal and said he was glad he got to say goodbye. His parents smiled and hugged him and told him they could get a new fish if he wanted. He told them yes and that was the last time Alan had birthday troubles ever again.
It all went back to when he was four years old. A well meaning uncle tried to teach him the meaning of life through death. His goldfish Sam had died and little Alan didn't understand what had happened, why his fish wasn't swimming around anymore. His uncle told him, trying to spare his feelings, that fish only live a very short time and his last birthday was up. Alan cried and cried and went to bed crying.
The next morning his parents approached him tentatively, but he seemed ok, like the normal little four year old he basically was. But months later, when they tried to plan out his birthday, he threw such a fit that they dropped it and threw him a surprise party.
So they got all his friends together, decorated the house while he was away and got ready. When he appeared at the door and everyone shouted "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" He screeched and burst into tears before running out the door and into the street, right into the path of a car. The car squealed and swerved and just barely managed to avoid hitting Alan. His parents rushed out and tried to hug him but they were wearing party hats and he squirmed and clawed and bit until they let go.
The damage to the car was thankfully negligible but that was the end of the birthday parties. Alan was now eight and had developed a full on phobia. He didn't go to other children's birthdays and so had a hard time making and keeping friends. He had been to a psychologist and had been making progress but still couldn't safely say they were out of the woods.
Doctor Dennings, while having little difficulty discerning how he had developed the problem had yet to solve why. He had tried letting Alan air out his concerns, tried to allay his fears. Nothing.
Finally, Dennings had an idea. He brought in the parents to ask what had happened to the goldfish after it had died. The father, somewhat embarrassed, replied that they had just flushed him down the toilet.
"I see," said the doctor.
Dennings then told them Alan hadn't ever gotten any closure and had come to associate death and birthdays as one and the same, a kind of torturous existential limbo. He needed to say goodbye to his fish if he ever wanted to overcome his phobia.
His parents were anxious and eager to try anything, so the next day they held a small memorial in the backyard. Dad took a small stone and carved Sam's name into it. Mom gave a eulogy, saying what a good fish Sam had been and how she missed him. Then they asked Alan if he would like to say something.
He didn't say a word, although a muffled sobbing was emanating from him. Then finally he said simply "You were my best friend and I miss you. Goodbye," before running into the house.
He didn't come out of his room until the next day for breakfast. He looked tired and a little sad, but otherwise ok. He didn't say anything much until he finished eating his cereal and said he was glad he got to say goodbye. His parents smiled and hugged him and told him they could get a new fish if he wanted. He told them yes and that was the last time Alan had birthday troubles ever again.
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