reuse others

hey my human, hiding in the wilderness
there goes the dinner bell
the killer, the cereal
dropped black in the pond
don't bite it, whistle a tune
whose elephant is this
who won't stop remembering

swirling
long distance
prophylaxis

footsteps towards a pillow
the same soil as us
fought back vibrating nothings
ran away all the same
following in my footsteps
surrounded by fifteen thousand

the most silent
exit ramp, snowflake tears
pained tales, painted lines
neuron thistles

while you make pretty speeches
you're tearing me to shreds

December 31st. A snow covered parking lot.
          White noise. An angry mob. Vacant
          stares. This is not a good place to die.
          And this is not a place of honor.
          Dying alone again, naturally.
          Of artificial means.

December 31st. A broken tv in the alley.
          We left it to rot.
          A silent drive back home.
          Gross on the radio.
          Could have turned things around.

December 31st. A movie on tv. Useless card trivia.
          Almost died in a ditch.
          That was a good place to die.
          They would have mounted a cross.
          I wouldn't have liked that.

December 31st. A gathering of complexity.
          Man blips out of existence,
          atm receipt in his mouth,
          gun in his hand.
          I wish I had been strong enough to do that.
          Video games and bad movies.
          Seems I'm not the only one who
          never forgot.

seven year old with a
can of olde english
stomping the gutter
chugging after breakfast
he's not a kid with
a lot of imagination
falling rocks from
the outer lithosphere
don't blink or
you might miss the best
victory is
never sweet

birthday card right after work
box of chocolates, wilted nosegay
everything's going to change
some are big, some are small
some aren't real after all
everyone is a critic
pleurisy and chewing gum
come stand outside we'll have some fun
riot after the bell rings
you don't know what you are
so no you can't borrow my car
everyone is a critque

minus world offer
two balloons for a dollar
take a swim on the chin
turn right here
my mathematical half
wonders where the negative went
and the positive side
got a shock with a grin

The Divine Loop - Chapter 35 - Reflection is up.

The Divine Loop - Chapter 34 - Sirach 30:7-13 is now up.

The Divine Loop - Chapter 33 - Jesus Wept

Announcement


The Divine Loop

Prologue

"You ever notice how as soon as you buy a truck shaped like a ham sandwich, then you notice them all over?"

"Heh nice dude. Check out the blonde driving it, I'd impregnate the fuck out of her!"

"Back in Soviet Russia, we had hot blondes as well. They lived in Chernobyl!"

"Dude."

"They were not much up for impregnations, however! I made love to a woman from Chernobyl one time. Our genitals fused together, as in cruel joke from the heavens!"

My fellow stock boy walked away shaking his head, back towards the front of the store.

Vlad was a former Russian soldier who fought in Afghanistan, worked as a butcher in the meat department, and had four fingers. He always had horrifying stories of the Soviets whenever more than one person was standing around talking. Except most of them were likely false as he contradicted himself all the time, and I knew for a fact his name wasn't really Vladimir. I saw his paycheck once. It said "Joseph".

"Am I right? You get joke, yes?"

"Yeah I get it."

"Alright, high four!"

Once upon a time. "Say Vlad, what happened to your finger?"

Vlad, normally smiling, got extra serious. "I was in shack with family. My brother, he come running home one day. Shopkeepers were chasing him for stealing bread. Only they not really shopkeepers, understand? One grab me, demand to know where is my brother. He was hiding in ditch in field. I refuse tell him, I say, my brother he has not been here all day. BAM!" Vlad slammed a butcher's knife into a pork butt. "He chop off my finger."

Everyone was terrified. Vlad was staring at his hand, head hung low. It was so quiet you could hear the value of rubles drop. Then he smiled, and looked up. "But I deserve it for insolence! I never tell another lie in my life!" He went back to chopping meat, and everyone stared wide eyed at each other. Except me.

Another time, I was smoking out back with a couple of the other guys, about some lame party I'd gotten roped into going to the next night. Vlad came outside, apron covered in blood. "Hello fellows, mind if I join in with you in a cigarette?"

"Oh .. no, go ahead."

"Do you have one I can borrow? I will pay you back well."

"Here you go."

We stood silently for a few minutes, staring into thin air across the alley. Vlad turned toward us. "My break is over now, I must get back to work. Farewell, men!" Then he put the cigarette out on his arm.

The other guys stared slack jawed at him. Everyone was in awe of this man, this beast, this demonic alien. No one could wrap their heads around him. What had he gone through to turn into such a thing, no less a man than an animal? Ration lines? Starvation? Torture? No one could concoct a scenario where a child grows from an innocent creature to an unstoppable force of nature; gravity, electromagnetism. Vladimir.

But I knew better. And I smiled at them knowingly, never daring to smash his pedestal. I liked being in on the secret. If you met Bigfoot, but he hid and cowered – would you turn him in? I wouldn't. I'd wave and turn around. I always was more observant than everyone else.

After all, I knew he'd never even lit the thing in the first place.

I stared at his hand without moving mine. "Don't you get sick of that high four joke?"

His wide toothed smile disappeared, then turned into a genuine grin. This was the first time I thought he had ever told me the truth. "Sometimes I do, yes, but people always leave me alone afterwards. A man can never have too much peace. Do you understand?"

I nodded. I could have used more of it myself.

"Hey, where the SHIT are all my stock boys? Get your asses in gear!!"

The manager was yelling at us again. A box of fruit cups had an urgent need to be on grocery shelves immediately, you understand. Never mind that the shelf was already three fourths full of them. "I swear, I should fire every one of you useless dumbasses right now. My goddamned pet goat could do your jobs. BRIAN! I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

He rounded the corner, and saw I was having a chat with Vlad. "Oh. Uh, anyway, just get working on those canned goods next."

"Yeah boss, I'll get right on that." He turned and gave me a dirty look as he kept walking.

"That guy is a royal jackass."

"Do not worry, my American friend. In my country, we have a term for such men."

"What's that?"

"Virgins!"

I laughed, and went to put fruit cups on the shelves. I managed to fit five of them in.

I was in a nature of visions and twisted rulers, the kings of mercy had murdered themselves. And the darkness was coming towards me. The corpse of my twin lay bare in front of me, as I struggled to impale him further with my spear. It was platinum coated, harmful to the naked eye, filled with apple cider. It shined brightly in the evening sun, shined like the universe was smiling upon my murderous revenge. Smiling with hatred, mutual hatred for a common enemy. I had to get home to my girlfriend. She was expecting, and she was expecting me. It wasn’t mine, but it was ok. It was my twin’s. I supposed I would raise him now. I pulled the spear out and uttered the magic words. He sprang to life, and ran away. Next day the papers were filled with my story; extra extra, twin kills his brother, brings him back to life. I went to his house and shot him, then buried his body under the bridge we used to play at when we were seven. The bridge over the river consciousness. A word floated toward me. “RUINATION”. I grabbed the n and held on as if my life depended on it. He never liked that bridge. He never liked the river. Said it was too cold, and despondent. He never liked me either. “I don’t like you.” That was what he always said to me. I would tell him a joke, and he would tell me how much he hated me. I was struggling, struggling, I was always struggling. The “ation” popped off and knocked me over. “RUIN” floated down the river, bobbing and weaving, inside and out, inside and out of the water. I watched until I couldn’t watch anymore. The corpse of my old self came to life, and it shoved me in the river. I went tumbling, tumbling tumbling over a waterfall, hit my head on some rocks. It knocked me out. The next morning I woke up, bleeding, dead on the asphalt, dead in my own skin. I tried to run home, I tried, I swear I tried to run home to you. But my legs wouldn’t work. I was laying bleeding dead on the asphalt trying to ruin to you, I mean run to you, and I couldn’t try anymore. I just couldn’t. I tried for days and days, but I just couldn’t try anymore. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m only human. I just can’t try anymore.

I woke up tangled in a web of lies, an intricate system of shadows and serpents hell-bent on my destruction. I searched the floor for my contacts, but found only empty plastic soda bottles and pizza boxes. Stumbling to the bathroom, I looked in the mirror and saw someone who wasn't myself. He was standing in a long hallway, red walls, burgundy carpet. Records playing in the background, softly, silently singing the world to sleep. When Johnny comes marching home again, hoorah. Hoorah. A blue hue, the echoes of silence and regret from a network of friends and relatives alienated, destroyed, weary and irreplaceable. Every six months, the colors of the universe are inverted. No one is the wiser. They continue their lives unabated, nonplussed by a nonentity such as myself. We'll give him a hearty welcome then hoorah, hoorah. The merchants turn their eyes to avoid his presence. The crowd moves away. The devils fear him. The evil that lurks runs and hides. Finally, they understand what he was sent to do. Don't tell them that, Johnny.

What?

You shouldn't give that away. When Johnny comes marching home again, hoorah, hoorah.

Who's there? No one answers. Lightning flashes behind me. I look outside, but the night sky is bright and powerful. There's movement in the mirror. I turn to look, but I'm gone. When Walter comes marching home again, hoorah. Hoorah! The hallway is green. Orange. Something is happening to me. When Steven .. When George .. When Na..When Johnny comes marching home.

Did I really have it so bad? So many have it so much worse. How many ever get a chance to be redeemed? Or even consider their alternatives? Maybe they too were punished for using their imaginations. But unlike me, they didn't keep doing it in private. They just changed their path. Think of all the possibilities. Imagine what I could be out doing right now, instead of muddling over these words. Fearful of a self fulfilling prophecy, of taking the wrong risk. Answering the wrong question.

Day 200. My anniversary. I sit in the dark, alone. I fear for my life. I fear for the lives of those I've loved. I fear what I'm capable of. I think everyone else fears me as well. But I no longer fear them. They no longer have control over me. They are powerless to stop me. Just as I am.

Get ready for the Jubilee, hoorah. Hoorah.
They'll prove the worth of Rule Three, hoorah! Hoorah!
The crown of thorns is ready now
To place upon his loyal brow
They'll all the rue the day when
Johnny comes marching home.

June 31st. An empty parking lot.
                Concrete. Traffic noise. A plant barrier.
                This would be a good place to die.
                If I will it, I choose.

                This is as good
                a place as any.

let go, let go. jump in, for it's so amazing here -
in the breakdown.

May 31st. I was working cahier cashier again.
                Man came in. Shot himself. I was
                the last person to talk to him.
                "Much left in your shift?"
                "Three hours, I guess."
                "Ah, alright."
                Then he pulls the trigger.
                Five hours later, I went to sleep.

"Why are you eating bread?"

Bread. I remember bread.

"I don't know. I just wanted some. Do you want a slice?"

I knew why it sounded good. It feels ... safe. Clean. It reminds you of something familiar. For you, maybe your childhood.

"Uh no thanks. Do you want a soda? I'm going to go buy one."

Soda. I wish I had a soda right now.

"Nah, thanks."

The room felt intimate, pulled together, compressed, a singular string of spacetime connecting us, intertwining our fates. There was a great gulf between us, but we were never closer. It was a wonderful feeling, a beautiful feeling. Finally someone was there for me.

Rule three. Rule three!!

Then it was gone.

"How's he doing?" She took a big drink. I couldn't see it, but I could hear it. I wanted a drink. Saline solution. What a sweet elixir.

"They don't know. The tumor's growing again."

"Didn't they take it out?"

"I guess it came back."

"That guy must have the worst luck, first it was cancer and now this?"

Dead silence.

I dreamt I was in an endless sea of green, nothing in any direction could hold back the tidal wave. Shelley was there, and everything was ok again. We were lying in the grass hands behind our heads, smiling, laughing, uninhibited. Reminiscing about everyone we knew, and making fun of them. It was bliss, lying next to each other; the world disappeared, nothing mattered anymore. Then she was gone.

"You really are pathetic."

She was gone, gone yet again. Someone else was taking her place. Her name was Sandy. And wherever I went, she tortured me. I stopped smiling. I couldn't bear to look at her. I put my hands at my sides, and they morphed into fists.

Rule three. Rule number three.

"Look at you, you little baby! Fantasizing about the girl of your dreams and all you do is look at clouds."

Sandy was a girl. She was a girl who I liked once, once upon a time.

"She's already dead thanks to you, so why don't you leave her alone?"

I made the mistake of telling her about it. She made me the laughing stock of the whole high school.

"Seriously not even a blowjob or something? Ha ha, I knew you were a fag!"

I gritted my teeth, and dug my nails into my palms. I couldn't murder an apparition. I couldn't punch a dream. But she was there. She was always there. Nagging me. Making me doubt myself. Every time I went to sleep, Sandy was there. Every time I closed my eyes. Every time someone smiled at me. Every time I tried to be pleasant. To be happy. She was always there. I couldn't make her go away.

"Everyone knows it already anyway. Or expects it!"

"Thanks to you."

"Oh don't be trying to blame me for that, it's not my fault you're such a loser."

"True, I couldn't even score with a skank like you."

"Hey, how's Todd doing?"

"He's good."

Deader silence.

Macaroni macaroni, sweet potato pie. Don't kiss the boys, don't kiss the girls, cause they will make you die.

"Heyyy buddy, you enjoying those wieners?" Henry had just walked in the break room door, and he was already on a roll. He was asking Brian. Brian put his fork down, and didn't look up. I chose to ignore him entirely. I stabbed a couple of my own, and chewed them with reckless abandon. Henry went over to a folding table and started stuffing vegetables in his face, and occupied himself sexually harassing some accounting people.

Laurie came in and sat down. "Hey Johnny, what did you bring for food day?"

"Uh, buns. What did you bring, other than your own buns."

"Hey! Nothing, I'm not having anything. Why would you bring buns and nothing to go in them?"

I planned on putting some wieners in them. I don't like anything in my buns. I forgot to buy the hamburger. "I tried to make roast beef and it didn't turn out very good."

"Better get you a girlfriend who can cook then!" She winked at me. I glared back. "Hey Brian, what'd you bring?"

"Pineapple upside down cake..."

"I wasn't asking you!"

"Too bad."

"I'll have to try some!"

I knew he wanted to make something else. Macaroni and cheese casserole. Everyone always kept asking him to make it. I wasn't sure if he didn't want to be seen as a cook, or was trying to be nice because he knew I couldn't eat it. But I think maybe he just didn't like the attention.

"He killed himself because of you, you know."

"Shut up."

"Ha ha, he had a crush on you!"

"Shut UP!"

Steve came in and sat down with a big plate of meatballs. Steve was new to the company. He had been there four days. He had no idea what he was in for.

"Mind if I sit here?"

"Nope."

"Walter, right?"

"I can live with that."

"Do you not like Walter? Maybe Walt?"

"Oh he doesn't like anything, do you Johnny?" She smiled at me again. Her teeth were too perfect, she was too beautiful. It was annoying. I wanted to punch her in the face, and sire her children. I hated it when good looking people tried to tease me. Except her. Well, I hated it, but I didn't.

I could tell by the look on Steve's face that he had no idea what was going on.

"Yeah, Lettice here is right-"

"Shut up! I hate that name!" She punched me in the arm.

"Then why did you name your son Carrot?"

"His name is Matthew!" She slapped the table, and crossed her arms, an incredulous, open mouthed smile on her face.

"Yeah my real name is Meat. And this here is Potato." I flicked a thumb at Brian. He chuckled. That was rare.

"Stop telling people that!!" She punched me again, a whole lot harder this time.

Steve slowly looked down and took a bite of a meatball.

"I changed my name because I don't like it. You can call me Walter."

Steve swallowed, and looked like he was trying to search for the right words. He pursed his lips, closed his eyes, and pointed his plastic fork at me. "So, you changed your name to Walter?"

"Well, once. I've changed it a lot. Right now it's actually ‘Motorbike St. Francis'."

"Motorbike?? Why Motorbike?"

"Why not Motorbike?"

He looked at me for a while. Shook his head, and pronged another meatball. The nerve of some people, living their lives differently!

Steve was going to be a problem.

"I'd hate to be the one here when he wakes up."

She had no idea.

"Hey Steve, I remember him! You got him fired too, didn't you? Wonder if he killed himself too!" She leered at me and disappeared in flashes, laughing from every direction; the empty void ceaselessly taunting me.

"You'd better get home, Todd'll be wondering where you are!"

"He knows I'm here."

"What a moron! Look at this dumb bitch. Husband and son at home, and she's watching over your ugly carcass. What is it with you and worthless bitches?"

The silence was back, but it was different this time. We were alone together again. More alone than ever.

"I miss you. Get better."

A voice rang out, as the sky flashed darkness. "They're both dead now. I hope you're finally happy. You just had to chase after her, didn't you? And what a last meal she had! Ha ha ha, ha ha!" Everything turned red, black. Invisible.

I knew she was scared. She had no idea what to say to me if I woke up. I knew she would be there, waiting for me. Finally, I knew. She was one of the few who knew about the first Shelley. Or the second, depending on how you look at it. She didn't want to be the one to tell me that now both of them were gone. And it was most likely my fault.

But it was alright. I already knew.

"I wish I could break your neck. I wish I could just reach across infinity, find you in your room, and break your ugly, snot nosed, bull dyke neck!"

There was a burning in the pit of my stomach. It was worse than usual. The fire was real. It wasn't figurative this time. The walls were coming down. Whatever was inside me had finally snapped, and my private hell was about to be unleashed on the world. Heaven help it, for it knows not what it does.

"Something's wrong, is the monitor supposed to be beeping like that??"

"No, something's wrong! Get a nurse!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

The nurses had already came in the room, and were trying to figure out how my heart rate was off the scale as I woke up, grabbed the needle out of my arm, and threw the IV through the window.

"WHERE'S SHELLEY!?"

"John, she ... she"

"I know she's dead, I said where is she!!?"

"How do you .. ?! She's ... they're at the funeral home!"

I ran outside without thinking about what was going on. I didn't know how to get there, but I had to go.

Then, all I saw was a bright light. Something had snapped. I no longer knew what was going on.

"Son? Son, where are you going?"

"Oh, I ... I don't know."

"What's your name?"

Rule 30. Damn it. Rule 30.

"...My name? J..John. John Paul VanHousen."

"Alright John, now think. Where were you just headed?"

Rule 5! Jesus, Rule 5!!

"I ... I think I was going to find some paint."

"Some paint? Why paint?"

"Well ... I need it to go back in time."

Shelley was back from vacation. She spent two weeks with her parents in the Caribbean. At some resort. "Happenings" or "Scores" or something. She had all kinds of stories about lying on the beach; watching people drink cocktails, wind surfing, all that fun stuff. I sat a few tables away and listened. I'd taken a few days off too, but only had 75 dollars. So I drove about a hundred miles, and then came home. In a diner, an old guy stared at me, then I almost ran over a squirrel.

It had been four months since Brian's funeral. I had driven by myself, as no one else in the company seemed to care. Since that time, I hadn't much felt like being around them. Except for Laurie. Laurie was the one person I had left. In another life, we could have been a couple. She was like a big sister, who I wanted to sleep with. Life was complicated. Lunch time doubly so. And brunch, holy shit, brunch was like calculus. Too many cantaloupes.

I sat a few tables away by myself and listened, because Laurie didn't ever eat lunch. That's when she came in. "Hey dude, I've got a problem my computer is locked up."

"Sounds bad." I took a drink. She crossed her arms and chewed her gum some more.

"Yeah, it is. We're supposed to have these things scheduled by 2 pm."

"2 pm? What happens at 2 pm?"

"I don't know! Are you going to come help me or not?!" She smacked me on the shoulder.

"I guess so." I took another drink, a long one. Then I threw the rest of my stuff in the garbage. We went back to her desk, and I fixed it. Thank god it was by 2 pm! I didn't really need to ask what happened at 2 pm; I knew. It was Friday and the account managers wanted to go home early to have extra time to get skanked up for their bars, or parties, or wherever they were going to go hunting for semen. And chlamydia.

"So did you ask her out yet?" She grinned at me, open mouthed, gum about to fall out as always. I gave her an evil eye.

"No."

"Why not?" She smacked me again. "She talks about you all the time you know. And all the stuff you did in high school."

"What stuff?"

"I don't know! Like hanging out and stuff!"

"Oh."

I walked up to Shelley during lunch in high school one day. I hadn't seen her in a few days, and was excited to catch up. I sat down next to her. "Hey, what you reading?"

"The Fountainhead."

"......Oh." I pulled out my algebra book, and we didn't speak the rest of the hour.

I got up from Laurie's desk, and stood there for a minute.

"Want me to ask her out for you?" She laughed. I rolled my eyes. "Not interested?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Just not."

Shelley hadn't gone to Brian's funeral either. The only excuse she had was that she hadn't known him at all. Not that she said that, but I knew that was the only one she could have. It was valid. But I still blamed her for it. I didn't think Laurie would have gone either, but luckily she had a valid excuse. She was in labor at the time.

"Hm, well, if you want to talk about it, let me know."

"Alright." I went back to my desk.

3 pm came, and I called her. "Hey, do you have a minute to come in here."

"Yeah, I'll be right in ... ?" I didn't normally call her. Or anyone. She walked in, with an odd look on her face, and no gum in her face. "Can you close the door."

"What?"

"Yeah, close the door." She did. I opened my desk drawer. "I know you're not going to believe this, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Even though I shouldn't." I pulled the purse out, and sat it in front of her.

"Aw Johnny are you a cross dresser now? We can probably set you up with a nice guy if you want!"

"Very funny. I found this in the locker room a while back."

"Yeah? Hey wait a minute, this is Susan's!" She grabbed it and started playing with the zipper. A big lump formed in my throat. I was terrified she was going to open it.

"Susan?"

"Yeah Susan, oh you weren't here back then. She quit like seven years ago. This was just sitting in the locker room?"

"It was in one of the lockers. I saw it one day and pried the door open. Give me that!"

"Hey! So what are you doing with it?"

"It can talk to dead people."

Now she stopped fidgeting, and stared at me, wide eyed. "It can talk to dead people?? Prove it."

I opened the zipper. There was nothing inside. "Doesn't look like I can right now." I gave it back to her. She opened it up and stuck her face inside.

"Hellooo dead people!"

"I don't think I can give it back to Susan right now, wherever she is."

She tossed it on my desk. "Well you definitely can't give it back to Susan, ‘cause she's dead!" And a piece of paper flew out of the purse and hit me in the face. And it said:

"Yes I am dear, but it's ok! Miss you!!"

I held it up to her. "That is freaky! You should take this on the road. Can you talk to just anyone?"

"There's more." I opened the drawer back up, and pulled out my soap box. It was an individual bar of soap that I found, still in the box. I pulled the bar out, and handed it to her.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

I closed the box, showed it to her, opened it back up, and pulled out another bar of soap. "Wash with it." I handed her the second bar.

"I am not washing with that!! Where did you get this stuff?"

"This was in another one of the lockers."

"How do you think this happened? You've got to do something with this!"

"I don't know how it happened. But I've got the idea that it was something I don't want to get involved in."

"Why not? This could be huge!"

"There's a guy-"

"What guy?"

"-a guy that's been following me, I think. I bet he's after this stuff."

"You'd better be careful. Now I'm going to be worried about you."

"Heh, all I have to do is find the towel that shoots lasers." She threw the soap at me.

"So who have you talked to? Did you talk to Brian?"

"I tried. He didn't have much to say."

"Where is he? How does it work? The afterlife??"

"I don't know. We talked about computers."

"What?? How could you not ask where he is!"

"I did, but whenever I tried he wouldn't answer."

"Well that sucks!"

"Yeah. Oh, he asked how his dog is. You know. Odin."

"That damn dog! Chewed up my socks the other day. And we renamed him ‘Pretzel'. Hey, and he chewed up my purse too!"

"Well you can have that one. I'm done with it."

"How can you be done with it?"

"It won't let me talk to who I want to. And Brian's not answering anymore anyway. You keep it."

"I can't take this!"

"Sure you can. I need you to keep it. Hey, I think I might go ask Shelley to go eat somewhere tonight."

"Hey! She was talking about you a few minutes ago! She wants to have you over to her place. Take this and talk to like, George Washington or something."

"No I mean it, I need you to keep it. And if anyone asks, it's just a purse." I put the two bars of soap in it, and zipped it back up. Then, as I handed it back to her, the lumps disappeared.

"...Oops."

Then I looked on my computer, and I had an instant message. "hey, would you like to come over for dinner tonight too? I'm cooking :)"

I wondered if Shelley was a good cook. I wondered if there were any dead people she needed to speak to. Then I wondered if she remembered I was lactose intolerant.

By the way – Laurie wasn't her real name. She hated her real name. Her real name is Lettice.

26 is the only positive number to be directly between a square and a cube.

I was reading a newspaper at the library when I had an idea. I wondered what would happen if I put a tree in a blender. It turned out I didn't have any trees, so I had to go to the tree store. Instead of having any good trees, all they had were azalea bushes. So I went home and cut it up, and put it in a blender. It didn't smell or taste very good, probably. That's when I realized an old man had tried to feel me up in the toy aisle. I was checking out the products my former company had recently released, when a man in a maroon fedora came into my aisle. "Well, hello there, " he proclaimed.

"Uh, hello."

Then, he grabbed my shoulder, tipped his hat up, and said in the most stilted, serious tone I've ever heard, "You take it easy, now. It can be a dangerous world out there. Don't let it get you down." And he walked away without looking back.

"Um. Yeah. I'll ... do that."

Who was this fucker, this beast of a man, to stroll into my toy aisle. I didn't know then, and I'm not too sure now. But at least now I know he's been following me.

Life is a wasteland. Sometimes you're knee deep in the shit, sometimes the shit is deep in you. I was walking to the break room to buy a soda and an imaginary copy of People magazine, when I passed Durjaya in the hallway. Durjaya was a fellow programmer, and he was generally a happy fellow. He always had a smile on his face, even when he got stuck with the worst problems. He looked a lot like this:



One could never tell if he enjoyed life, or if he was deranged. I only said "hey" as he passed, because trying to have a conversation with Durjaya was usually quite an adventure. It was worse than pulling teeth. It was like pulling the teeth of a brown recluse, who is also a recluse. He only comes out once a week for groceries, and also he's poisonous.

I was on the phone with some old lady who couldn't right click her touchpad or something, editing my resume, when Henry came, red faced and boiling over, into my office. When Henry wasn't conducting a chocolate concerto, he was freaking out over minor mistakes.

"Uhh, the site is down."

I kept staring at my monitor. Henry looked like he'd seen a ghost. I looked at him without moving my head. "It's down?"

"Uhhhh yes. And I uhhh," (shaking his head vigorously, as if to will our website back to life through pure magical thinking) "I cannot find the problem, I did not cause it, and I will not be responsible."

By this point in time, I had long since moved to other supervision, and thus Henry's blustering had as much effect on my demeanor or actions as a wiffle bat in a hailstorm. I kept staring at my resume. Looked good. "Alright. I'll take a look at it."

Henry was a big fan of Lord of the Rings. Henry had a life-sized portrait of himself commissioned in full medieval regalia, holding an incredibly phallic sword in front of his face. He had it in his living room. I was unable to look at Henry without picturing it. So, I didn't.

He stood in the doorway of my office for a few more seconds, looking absolutely heartbroken. Then, he left. Durjaya stared at Henry's huffy walk back to his cave, and slowly stepped in to talk to me. Durjaya was Brian's replacement. Technically, he was a good one. On a personal level, he was hopeless - and made me feel more lost than ever. "Something is wrong with the web server?" He had his usual look on his face the entire time.

"Oh. No. I think Henry's just having some computer problems. See?" I turned my monitor around, and showed Durjaya our working homepage. I hit refresh a couple of times.

"Oh oh ok." I turned the monitor back around and opened my resume back up. After all, I knew everything was fine. I had pinged Henry's computer to death myself to see how long it would take him to come storming in all red faced. It was a boring day. And Durjaya didn't really care if I had a purse that could talk to dead people, a baseball figurine that refused to move, a plastic wand that kills mold, or an endless individual bar of soap.

"So, how was your weekend?" I looked up, and he was gone. I guess I didn't really care how his weekend was anyway. Looked at my list of instant messenger contacts. Old ladies, middle managers. Everyone interesting was dead or offline. I decided to send Durjaya a message. "so how was your weekend?"

"very good." Then, he signed off.

I decided to make some more thorough edits to my resume. Then I wrote a short story about a programmer from Czechoslovakia who rode the bus every night, and found a magical pair of scissors that could teleport him to work. I decided to call it "Public Transportation."

Then, I drew this picture: