Monthly Archives: May 2010

“I take my women like I take my stairs,” Lloyd says.

Paul waits for the punch line.

“Three at a time.” Lloyd laughs.

“That’s awful,” Paul says, “I’m morally outraged.”

“It’s a joke,” Lloyd says, “But seriously, I’m dumping Jenny.”

“Just yesterday you said you loved her.”

“Yeah, but that was yesterday,” Lloyd explains, “Jenny’s like the latest pop song. She’s fun, different. I listen to her all the time non-stop. Then she becomes stale, annoying. Soon I begin to question why I loved her in the first place.”

“That’s an awful metaphor.”

“Simile,” Lloyd corrects, “I used the word ‘like.’”

The electronic chime poorly emits two notes before sputtering and dying. Stepping into the room is like stepping into another world, a world time forgot. Thick layers of grimy dust coat everything making it all impenetrable. A ray of light shines in from an unseen source. Specks of dust floating in the air glimmer and fade as they pass through the light.

“Can I help you?” a voice cracks from behind.

Spinning around, you hear yourself say, “Yes, I’m looking for a book.”

The scraggly-bearded man ponders, “Book? What’s that?”

“Isn’t this Barnes and Noble?”

This happens two years from now.

A gentle warm breeze of the early summer brushes across Kelli’s face. Here she finds peace in a fast-paced world. She slows her breathing until it becomes one with the earth she sits on. She becomes aware of every blade of grass tickling her calves, the rustle of each individual leaf in the trees.

“Hey, Kells! What are you up to? Meditating?”

“What do you want, James?” Kelli says through gritted teeth, eyes clenched shut.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Go. Away. James.” Veins begin throbbing on Kelli’s forehead.

“Meditation is great way to relax,” are the last words James says before the coma.

Ursula sighs, “This is all so profit-oriented, so corporate, so American.” The last word she says hangs in her mouth. She gags on its poisonous resonance. “I prefer to go my own way, make my on rules. I don’t need some corporation telling me what to do.”

Travis sits, stunned for a moment, then says, “If anything is American it’s your attitude toward things American. Individualism, arrogance, pride, a lack of respect for tradition and institutions.”

“Wh-what are you saying?” Ursula’s voice quivers.

“You’re more American than any of us.”

Ursula falls to her knees and screams, “NNNNOOOOOooooo!”

“Overly-dramatic. Totally American.”

“If I can impress anything to you kids,” says the motivational speaker, now approaching age 40, “it’s that you can succeed at anything in life as long as you believe in yourself and never give up.” His voice cracks a little and he recomposes himself. “L-like me.”

The motivational speaker begins to bang his head against the gymnasium wall. This holds the kids’ attention momentarily.

“They’ll tell you,” he says between head-smashings, “you can’t accomplish the impossible. They said I couldn’t break through walls with my head. Well—” he collapses to the floor, concussion or blood loss the most likely candidates.