Thursday, July 9, 2009

One Day This Stuff Happened

There was a book by the bed. He'd been reading it the night before. He picked it up now, surprised to find his bookmark nearly to the end. He did not remember a word. This did not surprise him.

Breakfast turned out to be a problem. At some point during the night, or perhaps the previous evening, he had poured a glass of milk and had neglected to put the milk back in the refrigerator, had, in fact, neglected to close the carton. He looked through the cabinets and through the refrigerator, but as expected the only food he found was cereal. Grape Nuts. He would not eat cereal with water.

He assumed, with good reason, that the shower was disgusting. This is why he always removed his glasses before pulling back the curtain.

It was an unexpected fortune to find he had clean socks. The right one, the one that ended up on his right foot, had a small hole near the big toe. With little trouble he could work his toe in line with the hole. He felt sure he could break through by mid morning.

The gray woman next to him would not stop smiling at the baby girl, asleep in her mother's arms, sitting in the seat in front of them. "Some god's miracle," she said and glanced at him. The bus was crowded. Standing room only. He'd taken the last seat. He wondered briefly how old the woman was, and then he wondered which one of them, the woman, the baby or himself, had created the odor surrounding them. He smiled a small smile, then turned to look at the child. There was something about her. He doubted it was miraculous, but he decided to pretend it could be, at least until the bus reached his stop.

As usual Molly was cheery. She stood in front of the brewing coffeemaker, humming. At regular, and short, intervals she bent down to check the coffee's progress. Each time she raised up from the inspection her enormous breasts bounced and jostled causing her silken blouse to rustle as if waves of perkiness were emanating from her breasts and reverberating through it and finally filling the entire break room. He did not hate her, but he did not enjoy being near her. Coffee could wait.

Work was straight-forward. Information flowed in. He reviewed it. He made additions. He corrected the most obvious mistakes. Information flowed out. At one time it had been part of his job to decide where to direct the information once he was finished with it. Software handled that now.

When Karl found him he was sitting at the small table in the break room eating Oreos and drinking a cup of coffee. Karl sat next to him and in a hushed and hurried tone told him of an email Regina had seen on the printer. The email had been sent to Curtis from Brenda. In it Brenda said she was coming by on Thursday and had some "office-wide issues" to discuss. She needed to discuss these issues in person.

For the most part his desk was empty of personal items, but he did have one toy. A small bit of corporate swag he had won as a door prize during the office holiday party two years before. It was plastic shaped into the form of a fortune cookie like those that come with the bill in a Chinese restaurant. The cookie was opened by pulling either end apart to reveal a small liquid crystal screen. A fortune then scrolled across the screen. He could see its small battery through the translucent plastic. There was no way to replace the battery. He opened it. It said, "You are friendly and outgoing."

At 11:34 he managed to force his toe through the hole. He felt the sock rip. It was satisfying.

He took a late lunch to make the afternoon shorter. He ate lunch alone. A Subway sandwich in a small park. On a nearby bench a homeless man slept. A passing jogger's dog sniffed at him and seemed to approve. Two benches down, as far from the sleeping homeless man as possible, sat a couple of middle-aged women. The chubby brunette was telling the enormous blonde about troubles with her son, Jesse. Jesse would not come home when he was supposed to. Jesse kept seeing that girl with the accent. Jesse burned "nose picker" into the assistant principal's front lawn.

Information in. Information out. He thought he could probably make a fortune selling the various identifying information that flowed past him each day. He did not know how to do this, but he felt sure he could learn how on the web. He kept this idea in the back pocket of his mind just in case he ever needed it. Plan B.

The elderly asian man behind the counter grunted at him as he walked in. It was a greeting and not an unfriendly one. The man was short and scrawny. He looked as though he could kill if the need arose and leave the body where it fell until he was sure not to miss any sales while he hauled it into the back room. There had been many evenings when he had seen the man in fierce, and very loud, verbal combat with an elderly asian woman, presumably, his wife. That, and his apparent ownership of this market, summed up his knowledge of the man. He bought beer, milk and pork rinds. He was unsure about the rules for carrying beer onto a city bus. He chose paper over plastic.

Other than the driver, he was the only person on the bus. He thought he remembered the same thing happening once before, but he could not be sure. He sat in the middle section and looked out the window. When a woman got on several blocks later and struck up a conversation with the driver, he turned his head to face the front.

He ate cereal and pork rinds in front to the television. One of his favorite programs was on. He laughed in all the right places. He flipped over to one of the religion channels during the commercials. It was showing a movie about the things people would be doing after the rapture. He considered calling the number at the bottom of the screen to see how long it would take before he was solicited for donations. He decided against it. He did not drink any beer.

His bed was unmade. He climbed in and adjusted the several sheets and blankets. He picked up the book from the night stand, then put it back down. He stared at the ceiling until he went to sleep. He dreamed he lived on a farm in California with a group of social scientists and a talking goose. He dreamed he was watching a movie in which Robin Hood was Batman's sidekick and kept stealing paintings from Wayne Manor to give to the poor. He dreamed he was having sex with his cousin, Linda. He dreamed he could fly.

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