I wanted to give up on this. It would have been easy. Just as simple as turning off my computer, and letting this little piece of the internet wither and die with inattention. But stories are meant to be told, and old friends exist to make us do stupid things.
Tao called. He wants to get the band back together.
Fuck it. I ain't got anything better to do.
Monday, February 28, 2011
The Bunk Bed (Early Defense Methods)
The Boy played an early game not too long after The Time Before Memory. The boy was with an old friend who the boy still speaks with to this day, and they were behind the boy's original bed. The game plan was simple: peg the Rocking Chair with stuffed animals. To this day the boy throws like a girl. He never discovered the techniques earned through the time honored tradition of being made to play in little league baseball by his father. Though he did participate, he never enjoyed it all that much. Despite his distinct lack of skill at this young age, there was a degree of fury with each throw that spoke to his internal conflict. For some reason, he never really spoke to his parents about The Rocking Chair. On some level, he believed that children have one set of problems and adults another set. To this day, he doesn't understand why he didn't just loudly request that they remove the damn thing from his room.
A short time later, the boy went to a store to get a new bed. He had watched a lot of TV, read a lot of comic books where the cool kids had them...and bunk beds were just too cool. They had one. It came with a ladder to get to the top bunk and side guards to keep someone up top from falling off, and it was made of awesome looking wood. He knew that the Rocking Chair couldn't reach that high. On the top bunk, he would be safe. This was actually an active part of his decision-making process, but he didn't tell his parents that. The boy was a spoiled brat, and he had his way.
At night, The boy arrayed his Stuffed Animals around him like soldiers. There was Beary McCormick, stuffed bear, debonair as always with his red bow-tie. Numerous licensed toys dotted the top bunk. Frankie the Lizard stood on over-watch. He would be the first to fall, lost forever in the catacombs under the bunk bed. The music-playing huggable Santa Dog was always by the Boy's side. He would last until the end of time if he had anything to say about it. In his heart, the boy knew they were just toys, but he wanted to believe they were his stalwart companions. He didn't want to know he was alone.
He hummed tunes from video-games to lull himself to sleep, to summon their heroes to his defense. The Rocking Chair cannot withstand the power of Sonic the Hedgehog. No one can. No one. He wanted to believe he wasn't alone. The boy was too young to know the nature of futility, and he watched his Saturday morning cartoons, knowing full well that the good guys always won. Because they have to win. Because if they lose, doesn't that mean he could lose too?
The nightmares never end. The boy does not pray. God was not here to protect him.
A short time later, the boy went to a store to get a new bed. He had watched a lot of TV, read a lot of comic books where the cool kids had them...and bunk beds were just too cool. They had one. It came with a ladder to get to the top bunk and side guards to keep someone up top from falling off, and it was made of awesome looking wood. He knew that the Rocking Chair couldn't reach that high. On the top bunk, he would be safe. This was actually an active part of his decision-making process, but he didn't tell his parents that. The boy was a spoiled brat, and he had his way.
At night, The boy arrayed his Stuffed Animals around him like soldiers. There was Beary McCormick, stuffed bear, debonair as always with his red bow-tie. Numerous licensed toys dotted the top bunk. Frankie the Lizard stood on over-watch. He would be the first to fall, lost forever in the catacombs under the bunk bed. The music-playing huggable Santa Dog was always by the Boy's side. He would last until the end of time if he had anything to say about it. In his heart, the boy knew they were just toys, but he wanted to believe they were his stalwart companions. He didn't want to know he was alone.
He hummed tunes from video-games to lull himself to sleep, to summon their heroes to his defense. The Rocking Chair cannot withstand the power of Sonic the Hedgehog. No one can. No one. He wanted to believe he wasn't alone. The boy was too young to know the nature of futility, and he watched his Saturday morning cartoons, knowing full well that the good guys always won. Because they have to win. Because if they lose, doesn't that mean he could lose too?
The nightmares never end. The boy does not pray. God was not here to protect him.
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