Storytime

"Tell us a story, Grandpa."

"What kind of story?"

"How about something scary?"

"Scary, huh? I don't really know that I know a lot of scary stories."

"Then just tell us a story of when you were younger. We don't want to go to bed yet, Grandpa."

"Yeah. We're not tired."

"Okay, okay. Let me think."

"Yay!"

"Hmm, now that I think about it, I guess I do know sort of a scary story."

"Tell us! Tell us!"

"I will, but first you hafta get covered up. Gotta make sure the boogeyman can't get at you."

"The boogeyman isn't real, Grandpa. Mommy told us so."

"Don't tell her I said so, but your mother is full of shit."

"Grandpa! You owe me a dollar."

"I'll leave it on your dresser, okay? Now go on. Get covered. This is the story of how Grandpa lost his best friend."
---
"So I found something today, Sadie. Something huge. Well, not so much huge in terms of size and everything, but huge in its importance. Are you ready for this?"

"Yeah...I guess so."

"I found a robot."

"A robot? That's it?"

"What do you mean, 'that's it?' It's a fucking robot. How often have you come across a real robot?"

"Well fuck, Race. I don't know. At a toy store, prolly."

"This isn't a toy though. It's a robot."

"Yeah ... I heard you the first time, and I'm still not impressed. Actually, I'm less so now because you keep going on about it."

"Jesus, you're a dick."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, Sadie. A dick. You're being a complete dick.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too, babe. Listen to me for a second though."

"I've heard about all I can take."

"Well then lemme show you at least."

"Fine. But make it quick. I got shit to do."

"Check it out. Isn't this shit cool as fuck?"

"That's it?"

"...Yeah. I fucking told you it wasn't that big in size, but I guess you really don't listen to me like you claim to."

"Oh I listen. I listen plenty. It's just that all I really seem to hear anymore coming out of your mouth seems to be nothing more than a load of bullshit, Race."

"I could say the same thing about you."

"Really? So what you're trying to tell me is that you hate me."

"What? I never said that."

"You implied it."

"The fuck ... How?"

"By telling me that everything I say is bullshit."

"That's not what I said. You're just twisting shit now."

"I know."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome ... and also running out of time to impress me with this robot of yours."

"Shit. Uhh, lemme see. I mean I kinda found it just laying in the snow and everything, but it kinda created a crater and it was smoldering and everything."

"So it's a robot that also fell from the sky? That is pretty cool. I'm leaving now."

"No, wait! There's more to him, You're just rushing me."

"You're goddamn right I am. I'm still not impressed by a dinky little robot that's rusted through. I can see your shit through the body of him for chrissakes."

"It's not all about appearance, y'know."

"Well, it definitely helps. Can he ... it even walk?"

"Uhh. Good question. I haven't really tried."

"Wow."

"What? I just found him and brought him here, Sadie. Cut me some slack."

"Wait. This doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?

"You just said you found it --"

"Him."

"It, Race. You found it in a crater and it was smoldering."

"Yeah. I did. What's your point?"

"And you just told me that you have no idea whether or not it can walk because you were so excited to have found a fucking robot that you rushed over here as soon as you could, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well if the crater it created was still smoldering, hold in the hell were you able to pick him up right away without burning the fuck outta yourself?"

"I dunno. It wasn't hot."

"I should've known."

"You done?"

"I guess so."

"Well, here. Lemme set him down. I'm sure he'll walk to you, babe."

"That thing comes anywhere near me, I'll kick the shit out of it."

"Well that's not very nice. I don't tell you that when your parents visit."

"Yeah, because you know my mom would beat your ass."

"I dunno about that."

"I do ... and see? That piece of shit isn't moving."

"He's prolly still frozen or something."

"True. Or, and this is probably the case, it's just a piece of shit. Bye, Race."

"He's not a piece of shit. He's prolly a collectible or something."

"I highly doubt that."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing, really. Just looks like there's a button or something on his back. Maybe I was supposed to push that."

"Maybe."

"Hang out with me for one more second. At least see what this guy does."

"Fine. But this is it. I really have other shit I gotta do."

"Ready?"

"Sure.Why not?"

"Sweet shit."
---
"I'll never forget that day."

"What the hell, Grandpa? What happened when you pressed the button?"

"Oh, you girls don't wanna hear that kind of thing, I promise."

"Grandpa, you said you were gonna tell us a scary story. Nothing happened."

"You really want to know?"

"Yeah, Grandpa."

"Fine, fine. So I pushed the button, but it was stuck because he was rusty, y'know? Actually that's what I named the robot. Rusty. I loved that fucking thing."

"Grandpa!"

"Right. Another dollar on the dresser. Anyways, I pressed the button and Sadie stood there, waiting. Growing impatient. I remember she started stomping her foot on the ground, kinda like when your mother gets upset with me when I let you girls stay up late watching movies you're far too young for. Point being, Sadie was upset with me and I was growing nervous. I started thinking the robot really was a piece of junk and I had been holding out hope that I found some sorta supernatural being from another world or something equally as obnoxious. I had pushed the button in on Rusty as hard as I could and I remember the sound it made. Scraping and grinding as the button slowly made its way into the inner recesses of the robot's body. Then he started getting hot and I couldn't figure out why. It was a heat I've never been able to come across since that day. By all means, I should've had third degree burns on the palm of my hand, because that fucker got red hot and you could smell him burning. Hell, I thought I could smell my flesh burning too, but it wasn't. I can't explain it, but my hand wasn't burning at all.

"Then the screaming started. It was Sadie and I think she must've been screaming out my name or something similar because she kept staring at me with this look on her face like she wanted to kill me. That's when I realized why I kept smelling burning flesh. It was hers.

"It started with her legs. I hadn't noticed that there was a laser coming from the robot's eyes because I had been so confused about everything else going on. Her screaming had grown and became so high pitched that my ears started bleeding. She kept crying for help, but there was nothing I could do. It all happened so fast, yet seemed to have lasted an eternity. Her legs had become a sort of gelatinous pool as she started melting in front of my eyes.

"Then I remember the smoke billowing out from her ears, like a teapot you'll see on cartoons, only she shouldn't have been boiling. Blood started pouring from her eyes in a slow, steady stream where it gathered in her mouth. Her screams became a gurgled, mess of incoherence as her voice ceased to be. Just like that, I had to watch her body melt into the earth as quietly as when a fresh powdery snow dances its slow waltz to join its stark white brethren.

"There was a pop then, at the end. I don't know what it was, but I'll never forget that sound. Not that you'd know from experience, but it sounded like the cross between popping a cork from a bottle of champagne and the dull thud of someone's fist makes when it punches some unlucky son of a bitch.

"It was done then and I fell to my knees. I dropped the robot as tears I couldn't control streamed down my face. I sat there in a dazed silence for a good hour. Maybe two. You kinda lose track of time when you watch a person turn to a jellied pool of flesh and bone.

"I couldn't sleep for weeks. And you wanna hear the best part?"

"...S-sure, Grandpa."

"Every night I would hold that robot out in front of my face and I'd press that button, hoping that I'd get to join Sadie once again. Hoping that by taking my life in the same way she lost hers, I'd be able to sleep. It was selfish of me to think that way, but I couldn't help it. But every time I pressed that button, nothing happened. Not a goddamn thing."

"...Grandpa?"

"Yes, honey."

"Where's the robot now?"

"I think it's time you paid a little more attention to your surroundings, sweetheart."

"What do you mean?"

"The lamp right on the table in between your beds, girls. That's the robot. I recycled him. I know I should've trashed it, but I couldn't bring myself to. Deep down, there's still a part of me that wishes I could press that button and join Sadie, but I'll be damned if it works. Sweet dreams, girls."

Don't Tell...

I have a secret.

I just overheard something and my mind is racing and I wanna tell someone because I feel that if I don't I'll explode. But I can't just tell anyone. This secret is the kind of thing that could make heads explode because of how great it is ... I mean if that sort of thing was possible.

Which it could be. I don't really know.

So what I need from you is simple. Just one little choice.

Yes or no.

Which will it be?

If you choose not to know the secret, I completely understand. Some people may not always want to have that burden on their shoulders. Knowing is powerful and ignorance is bliss ... or at least that's what they say.

I mean it might be really difficult for you if you were to know considering you see Jenny almost on a daily basis.

Oh. Shit.

Shouldn't have let that slip, should I?

Well that's all I'm going to say about it for right now. Fuck, I'm really sorry I said anything. It's probably making your choice that much harder. Knowing that there's something about Jenny that I know and no one else does. Hell, if I were you, every time I saw her, I couldn't help but think that something could be very wrong with her. I'd be diagnosing every possible ailment that she could have and, in my mind obviously, I'd already be making plans to get some time off work so I could be with her.

Or I'd be worried that maybe she's thinking of leaving in general and not saying bye. She could be like that sometimes.

Spontaneous.

Whimsical.

She could just decide to take off and trudge through Moscow.

Or change her name and flee to Canada without thinking twice about how she'll survive there.

Or maybe she decided to cut off all her hair and tattoo the names of each and every lover she's ever had on her head as a sort of way to show others that she's proud of her life choices and she doesn't give a fuck what anyone has to say about her.

Hell maybe it's nothing.

Maybe I was kidding about it being about Jenny in general ... I mean I'm not, but I could be.

But I'm not.

Fuck, I'm so bad at this.

So have you decided yet? Do you know if you want to suffer once you realize you can never look at Jenny the same way again, or do you want to play ignorant?

I don't blame you if you prefer the latter. Hell, I wish there was a way I could un-hear what I heard. To be honest, it disturbs me in ways I never thought possible. I knew she liked dancing, but I never thought she'd do it for coke.

Fuck.

Why didn't you stop me?

You just had to let me go on and on and keep talking, didn't you? You wanted to know. Deep down, you wanted me to keep talking because you knew there was a chance it would slip and you'd have a clean conscience because you did nothing wrong.

Well fuck you.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.

Any of it.

Jenny doesn't dance because she doesn't have legs.

Jenny doesn't do coke because she doesn't have a nose.

Jenny doesn't have tattoos all over her head because she doesn't have one.

Jenny doesn't do anything because she isn't.

I made her up.

All of it.

It's just that I get bored sometimes and I kind of make a lot of things up in my head and live through them. Watching things unfold in the lives of people no one else knows.

I'm sick of not having secrets because no one trusts me.

I'm sick of not having anyone to talk to me because I might be a little weird.

So I might smell everything I touch and lick things that are filthy and should make me sick to my stomach. What's life if you're not doing something daring?

So I might cross the street in heavy traffic wearing a blindfold. What's life if you don't trust others?

So I might burn myself the watch my body repair itself. What's life if you don't rebuild?

Don't judge me for being different.

Don't judge me for being destructive.

Don't judge me.

Hate me.

Ignore me.

Shun me.

Just don't tell me that the things I do are wrong.

Don't tell me I've fucked up.

I already know that.