Extra baggage

Lawrence was moving really slow.  It could have been his imagination, but it really seemed to him that the mule on his back had gotten larger.  He still distinctly remembered, so many years ago, asking Mr. Paterson, his fourth grade teacher about the mule, but received only a quizzical look.  Lawrence wondered why he had a mule on his back.  But he also wondered why everyone else had various animals on theirs as well.  His best friend, Bart, had a boa constrictor on his and his dad, a pit bull.  After the brief conversion with Mr. Paterson, Lawrence didn't bother asking anyone again.

As he crossed over Seventh Ave. he passed a woman with a very large rat, perched on her shoulder.  It seemed to be whispering in her ear and Lawrence unfortunately made eye contact.  With the rat, not the woman.  It bared its teeth at him, but turned back to the woman's ear.  Lawrence involuntarily shuddered.  The mule on his own back, now he was certain, had grown much larger than he had ever seen it and Lawrence was growing tired.  He turned into Vlad's Bistro and Bakery for a mid afternoon snack when something caught his eye, something so unusual, so unexpected that he stopped in his tracks and simply stared.  A little old man, surely no more than five feet tall and very likely at least 100 years old, sat alone, facing the door, and Lawrence, and his back was empty.  The old man immediately noticed Lawrence staring and smiled at him with a slight nod.  Lawrence continued to the counter, ordered his blackberry scone and sat down.  As soon as he sat, the old man rose from his seat and joined Lawrence at his table.

"I know what you're thinking," the old man said, smiling.  "You are wondering why I have no dog, cat, llama or kangaroo attached to my back, aren't you."  Lawrence sat in stunned silence.  He has spoken to no one about the animals for so long, the mere fact of someone else acknowledging their existence, nearly befuddled him.

"Why, um, uh, y-y-yes," Lawrence stuttered.  "Yes, I see them as well, I always have," the old man continued.  "I too, have always wondered why no one else saw them or acknowledged them, and came to live with the fact that I alone saw them.  But we are not alone.  Every so often, you'll see someone, and the simple act of eye contact will tell you, they see them too.  But the bigger question that I know is on the front of your brain, where is my animal?"  Drawing a business card from his pocket, the man gave it to Lawrence.  He rose from his seat and simply said, "meet me at this address," pointing to the card, "Sunday at ten o'clock, and everything will be answered." With that the man put on his hat and left.

What color?

Eric awoke, his typical time, around six am, but this time he was in the blue room.  Every day it was something different.  Sometimes red, sometimes blue, sometimes yellow, but it wasn't just color changes, sometimes even the outdoors was different as well.  One morning he would awaken in a tropical paradise, others times, the inner city slums, but no matter what he did, he always awoke somewhere different.

Initially, his reaction was confusion, then panic, then fear and finally, resignation, which was where he was now.  Eric swung his feet, all three of them, over the edge of the bed and stood up.  He was thankful this morning.  Sunlight peeked through the blinds of this blue room and he could hear birds singing.  Sometimes it was gunshots, profanity, warfare and even once it was marching band music. Eric hated John Philip Sousa.

He stepped to the window and pulled it open just a bit, enough to let in some fresh air.  As was typical, a clean set of clothes sat on a nearby chair, neatly folded.  Eric didn't know when or who, but every morning, there they were.  And always a trio of footwear, which was polite, as his third foot really didn't do anything, it just hung there, off to the right of his right foot.  It fluctuated in temperature just like the rest of his body.  It had feeling, just like the rest of his body and would ache if he hit it on something, so the third shoe was nice.

He quickly dressed and tried opening the only door in the room, a plain white door with a shiny brass handle.  It really was a crap shoot, trying the door.  It was pretty much 50/50.  Sometimes the door would open, other times it was fixed in place, completely immovable.  Eric stepped into a lush, green lawn, complete with pink flamingos.  A middle aged woman in a flowered robe was snipping roses across an indescript cul de sac.  She looked up as Eric exited the door and waved, smiling.  Eric knew better than to approach her.  It was the same story every time.  He would smile, wave back, cross the street and epicly fail in communicating, the other person speaking some other language Eric could not recognize.  So he simply smiled back, gave a casual wave and started down the street.  He knew better as well than to try to return to the door he had just exited.  For it too would fail him.  The door would be closed, unwilling to grant him entrance.

Eric had done it all.  He had thrown himself in front of buses, under trains, he took taxis for hours and leaped off the top story of very tall buildings.  But he would simply awake, refreshed in some new environment.  But nothing ever really happened.  He could enter any restaurant and eat any meal, for free.  Any store would willingly give up its wares, for free. Once Eric drove a brand new corvette off the lot only to awaken the next morning with no car, in a different place. He had no recollection of any different past, but merely an endless string of disconnected days.  But today took a different twist. 

Stepping out of the Krispy Kreme, both hands full of s dozen doughnuts, an approach girl caught his eye.  There was nothing particularly extraordinary about her, except that she had three feet and made a very awkward effort to gain Eric's attention.  "Hello?" She said, more as a question than anything else.  "Hello " Eric responded, quite surprised at hearing someone else speak English.  After this brief verbal exchange they both stood, somewhat in shock, quite uncertain as to what to do next.  Then, in one harmonious motion, they both sat on the edge of the curb and opened the doughnuts.

The remainder of the day was a whirlwind of dialog, interaction, staring and hand holding.  As far as Eric could remember, he had never touched another human being.  Of course, the obvious question hung in both of their minds, what would happen with the arrival of the next day? 

The stars were bright overhead when Eric finally conceived a plan.  They would wrap themselves in rope, climb into a sleeping bag and lock the zipper shut and embrace.  They did so and prayed for the best.

          But Eric awoke alone, on a bale of hay, in what seemed a deserted town.  Eric threw up.  Eric cried until he was hoarse.  Eric yelled until he threw up again.  He ran face first into a wall, knocking himself unconscious, only to awake on the floor, next to the bale of hay, alone.  Slowly he arose and walked outside.