The Madman

I was sitting on a park bench with my aging mother who was also accompanied by her arthritis plagued friend from the home. They often spoke to each other in short converstions, each one followed by a long stretch of complete silence.

A homeless man walked by and was talking to himself. My mother's friend said that the man is in touch with the spirit world. I offered the opinion that there was a malfunction in his brain causing his waking life to be overlapped by dreams. I further suggested that neuronal paths were displacing chemicals that triggered chain reactions rather arbitrarily which compromised his volitional control. My mother said that my opinion smacks of rational idiocy and that I too, lived in a dream world of conceptualization. She said that the difference between me and the homeles man, at this moment, was a matter of degree, not of kind. Perhaps to mitigate the wallop of her opinion, she suggested that my rational placement was better than being a complete moron.

After some moments of silence, I told my mother that I felt beat up by her and that I felt cornered. She responded by patting my forearm several times and said that I am a good son.

The homeless man came directly to our bench after another moments silence. He looked dirctly at my mother and asked her if she was afraid to die. My mother said, "The woman that you asked the question to is already dead".

Three Fine Mice

I noticed that mice had been eating various stores of food in my flat. To remedy the situation, I got into my car and purchased several traps that were designed to capture them unharmed. I also bought a cage to control their ramblings through my food where they could possibly defecate.

After several days, I caught three and that seemed to be the total population.

I placed the cage next to my ant farm in my bedroom. I provided them a healthy diet of protein and carbohydrates through the winter months. In May, when it would be easier for them to forage for themselves, I released them some distance from human habitation which could prove dangerous if they sought food in the homes of barbarians.

I bid my friends good bye one sunny spring morning and my tenious attachment to them drew and deep and profound sadness from the depths of the universe.

When I returned, I stored their cage in a storage closet in anticipation of the next visit from their untamed cousins.

Untied

As I ws making my way toward the library, I decided to detour through the park and slowly saunter around. I noticed that my showlace had come undone. Fortnately, there was bench nearby and I sat down before I done more damage to the ends by stepping on them.

As I examined the end, which had been damaged, a woman walked up to me and said, "hello Sam". I had gone to high school with her but I couldn't remember her name. She began asking me questions about my own personal details. Through the course of our chit chat, I noticed that she was flaring a performance my way. Her eyes were shining and she smiled in the most beautiful and beckoning way. I had the feeling that my personal space was enveloped within her personal space and we merged into a single unit. The feeling of inexplicable excitement transformed our merged cacoon into an expecting pregnancy of drama and hope. She asked me whether I would meet her for a drink that same evening. Although I was caught up in the sudden euphoria of expecting sexual intercourse with this beautiful woman, I thanked her and declined her invitation.

She smiled and stood up and said that it was nice to bump into me. But her demeanour changed now and she seemed to act through the pang of my unintended insult. We beckoned good-bye and I tied my shoelace. The end had been damaged to the point that I would have to replace my laces.

I continued to meander through the park and as I did, I remembered her name. And as I did, a feeling of gentle sadness blushed through my awareness.

The Rock Incident

While reading a critics views about a play I had recently attended, a rock came crashing through my window. It dropped to the floor without inflicting further apparent damage. Looking through the broken window, I could not see the perpetrator. I picked the rock from the floor and noticed it had left a small mark on the hardwood.

I placed the rock in the small garden that brightened up the front of the building with the thought that it would look nice there. But I would not rest with a final opinion until I could see it in full daylight.

I returned to my living room to attend to the broken shards of glass laying about. I retrieved my broom and dustpan and thoroughly swept the small pieces fom the cracks in the seperated lathes of wood. I cleaned the mark where the rock landed with a damp cloth and noticed that it did leave a scratch in the wood. After throwing the cloth in the laundry, I affixed a measured square of plastic over the broken section of the window.

Then I felt satisfied to resume the interrupted column I had been reading in the newspaper.

Thank You Julie, But No

On Saturday morning I was dragged out of my slumber by the sound of the doorbell. It was Julie from work who was in the process of handing out her own wedding invitations personally. She was very excited and happy about the whole affair. She spoke somewhat nervously about various details of the anticipated wedding day. I said to Julie that I would not attend and that she should never forget, especially in these happiest of times, that the grim reaper is an unseen force pushing her into various dramas such as this one. At any given moment, the grim reaper will destroy all that she builds. I also mentioned that there is another force, far more sinister than the grim reaper, that defines the drama. The force that turns each and every one of us into self absorbed morons.

Julie appeared to be taken back by my declining of her generous invitation and walked out without saying another word. I was sorry she did because I wanted to thank her for waking me up to a beautiful morning.

I then proceeded to prepare a lazy Saturday brunch to enjoy with freshly perked coffee and my morning paper.