Wake up. Angry.
Put on a robe. Brew coffee. Brush teeth. Pour coffee. Feed
the fish. Sit at table. Drink coffee. Curses, it’s hot. Look for newspaper.
Realize I haven’t got it yet. Go to front door to fetch it. Open door.
There, standing at the door, awaiting me, is an old man. On
his bald head, save a few scraggly white hairs that sneak out the sides, a
dusty cowboy hat sits firmly, unmovable. The man’s face is grizzled tight to
the skull– his features all caked on, rigid and eternal.
With his studded boots he passes the threshold into the
house; this, the first step. I volley my body to the side. He walks in. He
takes a look around, eyeing the place for something yet unknown to me. His gaze
holds on the fish tank for a moment, then his eyes move on. I stand still, not
quite scared, but rather dubious that I’ve really awoken to such an odd
spectacle. The old man casually struts to the kitchen, wherein he takes a knee
to sport a keen look underneath the fridge.
He rises and asserts to himself; “Three then.”
“Excuse me?”
The old cowboy ignores my question and finds a snug seat for himself to sit bowlegged on the couch. The fellar looks up at me.
“Ummm… yes?”
He motions solemnly with his head. I’m inclined to do what
he tells me to do, so I sure enough sit beside him.
“Well then, let’s have at it.”
“Have at it… of course, that’s what we should do.” I’m too
uneasy to infuse my words with the degree of sarcasm I normally would acquaint
myself with.
“You are an unfaithful sonnavabitch.”
“Alright… okay… I think this makes sense now. You’ve got the
wrong house, Mister.” Mister? When did I ever refer to somebody as Mister?
“No. You’ve
poisoned the waterhole, sure as day.”
“Look sir, I don’t have a girlfriend. My parents are dead.
I’ve got no siblings; there’s nobody for me to be unfaithful to.”
The grizzled cowboy made a sound not unlike a frustrated
‘neigh’ of a horse. He followed that up with a grimace and a dead stare right
into the whites of my eyes. I couldn’t help but find myself being somewhat
entertained by this queer situation. I knew that this was not the time to take
things lightly, but I found myself smirking unconsciously.
The man smirked back. Then he inserted two fingers into his
mouth and blew. An ear-aching whistle slapped the gangley grin off my face.
Once I gained my composure, the scene had changed. A rat now
sat on the old man’s shoulder. The intelligent looking specimen stood on his
hinds’ feet, looking right at me. I instinctively moved closer to the creature,
enraptured by his sincere expression.
“Hello. I am Remi,” said the rat.
The cowboy responded by nodding his head, “And the guy
behind the glass is Nemo.”
I turned and sure as I’m standing now, give witness to my
clown fish who swam to the glass of the aquarium and winked a fishy wink at me.
“Forgive us if this comes off as something less than
cordial, but…” The rat was quite modest in his tone, “Why have you forsaken
us?”
I stand up. I am beside myself, my eyes darting to-and-fro
from the three figures, who now so obviously are outlandish recreations of
Pixar characters. “Heavens to Betsy, what’s going on here?!” Really? ‘Heavens
to Betsy’?
“We feel it, sir. We feel all of it,” says the rat both
shrewdly and politely.
“Feel what?”
“Your anger. Your discontent.” The rat takes a long,
dramatic pause; “Your unfaithfulness.”
“How have I been unfaithful?”
“We are trying. Don’t you see that? Don’t you believe?”
“I don’t understand. What do you want from me?”
“We merely expect what you’ve promised!” Now the rat was
becoming agitated, and showed it through the smug rebuke written on the face of
the cowboy.
I’m now fastly becoming desperately defensive. “What is it
you say you have promised? I’m just a man. I work, I go home, I sit, I live.
Every now and again I like to watch movies. I like to be taken to places I’ve
never been taken before. I like to experience great stories. Where is my
crime?” I am surprising myself by the tinge of anger I feel welling inside.
“You’ve poisoned the waterhole,” the cowboy says mater-of-factly.
I shout a rebuke, “I have not!” I am frightened by my own
rage. “You are the takers! You are the robbers! You took my childhood in your
hands. I gave myself up to you. I let you have my soul. What sort of coup is
this? I am an independent mind now. The limits of the universe are my own and
mine alone! You have sodomized my aspirations!” Really? ‘Sodomized my
aspirations’; where did I come up with that? “I fell in love with you! It was I
who fell, and I who got to play the fool! You are the unfaithful ones!” YOU!”
I can’t catch my breath. I can’t get enough oxygen. The
three figures stare at me, their collective faces blank.
The world is inside out, the world is upside down.
Remi says to the others, “This one is gone. He will not
forgive. He will not return.”
As the world begins to spin, I put my hands on my knees to
find air. I hear, and know that the fish is speaking, “His heart has hardened
for too long. No hope.
I collapse. Breathing deeply and urgently does me no good.
The world turns to waps of blue and red and purple and finally black. I dimly
see Woody stand above and sadly mutter, “Maybe if we would have used more of
us?”
One of the other two responds (I don’t know which), “He has
no awe left. No magic would save him now.”
“No awe.”
All is dark.
Wake up. Angry. Alone.
