...
My pencil wavers over the paper. I can't think of anything. Nothing. Heather sits across the table with little Karen in her arms, frowning at me. I was fond of Heather, but I was not in love. I wasn't happy, either. The only person I loved anymore was Karen."What's the matter with you?" Heather asks. "I can't think of anything," I say, "Is Karen doing ok?" She frowns, "Of course. What's the matter?""Are you happy?"
"What?"
"Are you content with this ... I don't know ... blessed mediocrity? This slowly building disaster?"
Heather's eyes narrow. "What happened to you?" She stands, stiff, and then turns to head out the door. She walked away, and I just watched her. Karen is looking at me over her shoulder. I smile, and shift my focus to the paper again, but I'm scared. What was the story about? Finding myself?
I don't remember anyt-
My eyes open. I don't sleep, I dream. I'm shaking, but I'm numb besides.
The leaves blur, and then clear. I sit up and rub my eyes. It's freezing. I climb out of the tunnel slide, walk to the other slide to complete my pissing ritual, and then look around. The kids are back, sitting with their mittens and their beanies, waiting for me to speak.
Being naked has it's perks. This will sound rather creepy, but kids love the "strange." They want to hear about it, they want me to tell them another story. Though I would never admit it, I really enjoy the attention they give. They just want to hear me talk! Besides, it lets me try to remember my book, or just make shit up if I can't remember anything. I sometimes get really dramatic, swinging my arms and raising my voice. You know, a guy has got to keep himself warm.
So, what's the story this time? The kids are waiting. I begin, "Once upon a time, there was a man that lost everything." The kids smile and clap. They love that one, they love that the man redeems himself in the end. Whatever. I continue, "He loved his child (that's you guys!), he loved his daughter very-."
Something flutters by my ear. I snatch it out of the air. It's a piece of paper. A piece of paper with my handwriting on it. I feel my eyes widen. "Holy shit." The scrap reads "everything I see is everything I lose." I don't remember anything, and nothing reminds me. A line from my book. From the sound of it, the world hadn't changed much. My face was warming up.
"What's the matter with you, Mr. Bestever?" I'm startled out of my thought. "What? Oh right. Just something I found."
"There's something on the back," the kids say. I turn the paper over. It's a chickenscratch note.
In the animal shelter, with the donkeys.
"What's it say, Mr. Bestever?"
"Uh, the man redeems himself in the end. And my name's Leeroy."
I leap off the playground and sprint in the direction of the shelter, whooping and shouting the whole way. It's freezing. My shriveled manhood raises a few pedestrian eyebrows. Whatever. The stoplight seems like it will never change ("Stay on the path"), and the man next to me is carrying a staff. What a delightful day.
"What's that for?" I ask.
"Magic." He says.
"Oh, right. Well, uh, you should get that thing calibrated. Sometimes it takes something to bring out the best of you."
The light changes, I sprint away towards the shelter.
Leeroy, you're crazy. Who's leaving you messages? How do they know lines from your book?
Shut up, Leeroy. Who cares?
