by Aimee Bender
Running faster, he began to smell pine needles, wild flowers and fragrant roots. He concentrated on these odors and blocked from his mind everything that wasn’t associated with them or his pounding feet. Seconds later, darkness gave way to a tangle of browns and greens. The nozzles, hoses and blades attempted to enter alongside, but impacted against tree trunks or were ensnared in vines.
Ralph continued until he could go no farther. Into a bed of pine needles below a dead tree he fell.
It took him a while to regain consciousness, and longer still to stop feeling as though he was about to die. Earlier, he’d breathed so hard that he feared his lungs might burst; he worried that his heart might beat out of his chest or that a blood vessel might explode in his brain. Now, all he felt was a throbbing sensation in his thumb. The bleeding had stopped, but he feared infection. Bandages weren’t available on his route, and he’d never seen a doctor’s office.
Ralph didn’t want to think about this. It didn’t make him feel any better. There was, however, one thing that could.
He didn’t like killing little animals—or anything, for that matter—but it was unavoidable. Large prey was off the menu. It had to be a creature small enough so that the force of a dildo thrown against its head would either kill it or render it unconscious. Still, a meager dinner was better than no dinner at all.
In a bush, he heard something scamper. He waited a few seconds and saw a rabbit peek out its head, nose twitching.
Ralph felt for his case, opened it. One dildo was awake. He recognized the dildo he’d killed, seized it, and closed the case before the conscious dildo could consider escape. He moved his throwing arm into position, but rustled some leaves. Though Ralph tossed the dildo quickly, the rabbit was gone before it hit the ground.
“Damn!”
He retrieved the dildo, waited for more prey, waited until he imagined he might just as well go to bed. Then the noises came.
He wondered what it could be. The thing sounded decently sized as it trundled through leaves. Maybe it was a skunk. Ralph recalled eating one, and it had agreed neither with his palate nor his stomach.
The thing got closer. It was a groundhog.
“Stay right where you are,” he whispered beneath his breath. “Don’t move a muscle.”
The groundhog turned to Ralph. Had it heard him and understood what he said? Nonsense. Ralph pitched the dildo. It sailed through the air, spinning twice before it hit the fat, furry thing’s head and knocked it out cold. A rear leg twitched.
“Gotcha!” Ralph bolted from his position and ran to the animal before it had time to regain its bearings. The blow, he could tell, had only stunned it.
He picked up the dead dildo and put it in his pocket. He wasn’t even halfway back to the campsite when the groundhog came to. The thing scratched at his arms and screamed as though human, mouth open wide, nostrils flaring so obscenely that Ralph believed he’d see the animal’s brain were the lighting better.
He couldn’t take the sight, much less the sound. He pinned the groundhog against a nearby tree and slammed the dildo hard against its head.
It still twitched, so Ralph struck the thing, again and again.
“Just die already!” he screamed.
Minutes later, the groundhog’s head lolled around the side of Ralph’s hand. He watched it for a few minutes more, half-expecting it to twitch or scream. When it did neither, he set out to build a small fire and then go about the unpleasant task of running the groundhog through with a stick.
Groundhog flesh crackled and popped in the fire. When the meat was done, Ralph removed it from the flames, wiped off a blanket of black, melted fur and brought the crispy groundhog to his lips. He took a bite and had memories of cold, sweet things on sticks that tasted nothing at all like this. Though he hoped it would be a long time before he ate groundhog again, he finished all the meat but the face and tail.
With a belly full of vile, hairy food, Ralph laid down to sleep. For warmth, he layered pine needles atop his chest before coiling into a fetal ball. It took a few minutes, but he drifted off as the fire died down and blackened pieces of wood turned into crackling red and white embers and then became nothing at all.
Ralph awoke with a start. A nearby rustling had disturbed his sleep. He turned the way of the sound and beheld the white, glowing bodies of those he called the Orb Passers. He’d forgotten about them and the name he’d given them. Now, it seemed that he saw them every night, and they always did the same inscrutable thing, carrying illuminated silver orbs like sacred objects, passing them back and forth, holding them aloft briefly, letting the light from the moon kiss them, or maybe giving the eye in the sky a better look.
Who were they? What did they want? Were they living clues? Angels? Devils? Messengers?
He had to approach them.
Ralph sat up, dusted himself off and started walking. The twigs under his feet made very loud noises, louder than they had any right to sound. He cursed them, but the Orb Passers didn’t seem to care or notice. They continued passing and lifting, lifting and passing.
Closer still, he saw that the things were naked, but didn’t have genitalia.
He crept up to them, addressed one. “Could you help me? I want to know why I’m here and what’s happening.”
The thing just glowed. It had no face.
“If you can say or do anything, I’d be much obliged.”
More lifting. More passing…
Ralph bit his bottom lip. “Can’t you do anything else?”
The being reached out a bright finger, pointed to his pants pocket.
Ralph was confused until he remembered what he’d stored there. He reached in, wincing as fabric scraped across his wound. Now with his other hand, he dug deep and brought forth the paper strip that the robot had given him. “Do you mean this?” he asked.
The glowing thing nodded and took the strip from Ralph. A black hole opened in the center of its head. It put the strip into the hole.
Ralph wanted to shriek, perhaps even punch the Orb Passer. It had destroyed a vital piece of the puzzle. But his anger quieted when the thing presented its orb for Ralph’s inspection. Inside the crystal, he saw the image of the strip, close up on the heart, and now the tiny words inside it were legible:
THE FIRST HOUSE OF THE DAY WILL BE YOUR LAST, IF YOU ARE A GOOD SALESMAN.
Ralph staggered back to his campsite, body tingling. It took almost an hour before sleep claimed him. His thoughts raced, but in a good way, as he imagined all the things that might soon be.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ralph awoke to a perfect spring morning. He took to his feet moments later, as it seemed wrong to waste time lying around on a day that held so much promise.
But what if you mess it up?
That thought tried to dissipate the good feelings taking root inside him, so he shook it away. He would make the best damn sale in the history of salesmanship, and be rewarded for it.
Ralph freshened up by a stream of bright, almost navy blue water, a color more soothing than the bright red of the streaks that crisscrossed his mangled thumb. Blood infection, he thought, but tried to worry no more about it. It was something a doctor could treat once he sold his last dildo and left this place for good.
He returned to his case, opened it, looked inside, but no dildo fought him or tried to escape, the two survivors content to just undulate quietly. Maybe these were the better-behaved ones. Or maybe they were less rambunctious now there was no more safety in numbers.
Ralph closed the case and picked it up to begin his day. It felt almost weightless in his grasp, not like a burden at all.
Ralph stepped out onto the road and came face-to-face with another billboard. It featured the same artwork of the happy, breakfast cereal eating family, but, this time, the text read: IT ISN’T THE GOVERNMENT.
His memory of the day before was already degrading, but he was almost certain that the previous sign had implicated the government. Then he remembered the clue by the explo
ded man’s house, though he wasn’t sure if it had told him to trust or not to trust billboards.
No matter. He had better, more important things to consider.
The bus was already at the stop when he passed it. He gave it a second glance, but only because he couldn’t recall ever seeing a bus on his route. He’d be receiving a better way out than via public transit soon enough.
Before him, the houses were all in the form of squat, almost featureless rectangles. There was no way of telling which would be the special one, the deciding factor, but it was along the line, somewhere, and, if necessary, Ralph would walk all day to find it.
He passed just ten houses, and there it was: the shadow of a tree cast upon the house elongated, losing its branches and leaves, becoming a line, which then became deep black, like paint instead of shadow. The base of the line bifurcated into an arrow that pointed down at the door. Within seconds, the arrow was gone, the innocuous tree shadow once again cast upon the house, but that brief sign was all he needed.
On the lawn: a plastic statue of a fat, rosy-cheeked cherub. When Ralph first noticed it, it wore a neutral expression. Upon a second glance, it smiled at him. Plastic eyes twinkled. Ralph couldn’t help but smile back.
The smile faded as he glanced down at his case. It was streaked with red and yellow discharge from his thumb. Ralph sat the case down, scrubbed it in the grass. He considered looking at his thumb again, but didn’t want that image fresh on his mind as he tried to make the sale.
He stepped onto the porch, knocked at the door. When it opened, a young, neat-looking man dressed in beige slacks and a white button-up shirt stood at the threshold. His face was soft and pleasant, reminiscent, somewhat, of the cherub.
Ralph launched into his spiel. “Hello, my name is Ralph, and I’m a traveling dildo salesman.”
“Hello, sir,” the man said. “My name is Steve, and I’m your potential customer.”
Ralph was taken aback. He’d found someone who was polite, well-spoken. “Well, nice to meet you, Steve,” he said. “Might I interest you in one of my fine dildos?”
“I could take a look…”
Of course you could, Ralph thought. He opened the case, afraid that the dildos might be in a rambunctious mood—Murphy’s Law—but the two living ones were as quiet and orderly as before.
Steve craned his head to see inside. In Ralph’s estimation, he looked impressed.
“I simply love the color and texture of that one,” Ralph said. “Don’t you?”
“My, it is pretty!” Steve pointed at the red one just beside it. “But I think I like this one even better.”
Ralph smiled. There was no way he wouldn’t make this sale. “I’d say they both have positive attributes,” he said.
Steve studied the third dildo; his face scrunched. “Isn’t that one dead?”
Ralph bit his bottom lip. “No, it’s not.”
“Oh, okay. Guess it’s just a quiet one.”
“Yes, and personally, I’ve found that quiet dildos are the best dildos.”
“These are all nice, yes.” He paused, looked at Ralph. “But tell me, are they expensive?”
“Just a penny each.”
“Really? I thought you’d ask for more.”
“I just need to sell these. I don’t care about making a profit. I’d give them away if I could, but that’s against the rules.”
Steve scratched his chin. “Okay, the price is good; the product is good. Everything looks good.”
“So, you are interested! Wonderful!” He flashed a smile that he sensed would seal the deal.
The man reached out—This is it! Ralph’s mind screamed—but he only took two dildos and gave Ralph two pennies.
“You forgot one, sir,” Ralph said.
Steve looked confused. “No, I didn’t.”
“But you did.” He tilted the case, pointed. “See, here it is.”
“I simply cannot take that last one.”
Something flipped in his stomach. “What?”
“I’m terribly sorry.”
Ralph fought rising horror, but Steve had been an easy customer before, and he hadn’t closed the door, was still standing at the threshold smiling, being pleasant, but, most importantly, available. Getting Steve to take the last dildo had to be the true and final test of his salesman’s mettle.
He composed himself, threw the two pennies to the ground, said, “Really, these are a set, and you wouldn’t want to break up a set, would you? Individual pieces might become lonely.”
“It’s just not possible. No offense.”
Control over the situation seemed lost. Was the ship already sunk? What if … what if he wasn’t supposed to lie? If that was the test, then he’d already failed. Ralph wanted to bite his nails. Run his hands through his hair. Fling his body off the porch and flail in the grass.
Compose yourself, damn it!
He cleared his already clear throat before making himself speak coherently. “You must take it, sir. This is my last house, and, really, I can’t have remaining inventory.”
The man just shook his head.
Ralph clenched his fists. “If you don’t take it, so help me, I’ll—” He made himself stop, realizing he was losing his professional cool, becoming disrespectful. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Must be the heat.” Suddenly, snowflakes fell from overhead.
“No problem,” Steve replied, but didn’t utter a word about purchasing another dildo.
“Come on, just take the thing.”
“But that would be one too many dildos, and you know what they say about that.”
Ralph had no idea. All he knew was that his emotional floodgates were about to burst. “Why can’t you just buy the dildo, you son of a bitch!” he shouted. “Do you want me to do this shit forever?” He lifted his thumb, now swollen, pulsing and green. “Do you want this to kill me?”
Steve lifted his hands, a placating gesture. “No sir, and I don’t want to do this forever, either.” He glanced at the remaining dildo. “Still, I told you it was very nice, and I haven’t changed my opinion.”
Ralph seized the dildo, brandished it in his customer’s face. “Then take the fucking thing!”
“But I can’t, no matter how much I may desire it. God always buys the last dildo from salesmen.”
Ralph thought back to the banner. “God?”
Steve nodded.
“And you said: salesmen?”
“Oh yes, I’ve seen plenty of traveling dildo salesman. They’re all over these parts.”
He never imagined there might be others, and wasn’t sure whether to believe this news or not.
“I just ignored them in the past,” Steve continued, “or was mean to them. Sometimes very, very mean.” His eyes lost focus. “One I even chopped up and stored in the basement until the smell got to me.”
Ralph took two steps back. “You did?”
“And I made love to the parts like you wouldn’t believe! But I’m a different man now. I understand what it’s like to have to do the same thing, day in and day out, with scant hope of ever stopping.” He seemed suddenly wistful. “I had a life too, you know. We all did, and, my lord, I see it so clearly now.”
Watching this man, Ralph almost wanted to cry. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you earlier.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m sorry it took me so long to finally help out a traveling dildo salesman, but I’ve got to go.” He paused briefly. “Good luck.”
With that, Steve’s body shimmered like a Christmas tree. He waved as the sparkles intensified, smiled and then disappeared.
Turning, Ralph noticed a fork in the ordinarily straight road. He couldn’t wait to take this path, see where it led. Then he remembered someone named Mom, and realized that he should call her, tell her of this wonderful news.
He reached into his pocket. Found the phone. He dialed numbers at random, heard the other end start ringing, and waited for Mom’s sweet, sweet voice to fill his ear.
Instead, all he hea
rd were distant murmurs, like several people speaking to one another far from the receiver.
“Hello,” he said.
It sounded as though the people were walking towards the phone. One voice sounded gruff, masculine.
“I—I would like to speak to Mom, please,” Ralph continued.
Suddenly, an angry man shouted into the receiver. “Hang up the phone!”
Ralph did so quickly. His nerves jangled, but he made himself relax and not think too much about it. Maybe he’d gotten the wrong number. Perhaps he could tell Mom about the events of the day himself, in person, once it was through.
On the new road, the only thing Ralph noticed was more billboards, hundreds if not thousands of them, lining both sides and blocking all other sensory input.
ALIENS ARE DOING IT, said one.
He wondered if this related to his predicament, or was a mere sexual declaration.
Another: YOU ARE REALLY DEAD.
And on the next billboard, just a few yards up: YOU CAN NEVER DIE.
This was followed by a litany of positive statements rendered negative by subsequent ones. So many groups implicated, then vindicated: bankers, masons, illuminati, televangelists, working mothers, electricians, dental hygienists and, more prosaically, the bus driver, Ralph’s customers and even himself.
He decided to pay no further attention, as he now recalled the exploded man’s clue quite clearly. These were just falsehoods and distractions he had to pass before the truth was revealed.
He soldiered on. The road curved. Beyond, billboards vanished and a vista opened, revealing a hill, the base of which stretched for miles. The change in topography stunned Ralph, and he walked to it like a supplicant towards an idol.
Pavement soon changed into an overgrown footpath that snaked up the hill. It felt weird, but very welcome, traveling upwards after so much time spent on flat and monotonous ground.
