by Tobias Wade
“Are we still at seven?” she asked innocently. “Good, then you’ll still be here on the bus. I hate sitting alone.”
“Why… how… ” I gasped the clean cold air into my lungs that the dark laughter had denied me. “Did you dream about the creature laughing in the darkness too?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Two people can’t have the same dream.”
“Then how do you know about time running out?”
She looked down at me and smiled sweetly. “Because I was the one laughing. It got me the night before last.” I stared at her in blank wonderment. Something was wrong. Her smile kept stretching wider. I swear I’ve never seen her show that many teeth before. Then she turned away, and I rubbed my eyes. The faded yellow school bus rolled into view, bumping and clattering down the road of our neighborhood which was strewn with potholes. The two Mumford boys who lived nearby were just jogging up the sidewalk now to join us.
“I told you we’d be on time,” said the first. “Told you I could hear the bus from a mile off. All the bumps in the road make it rattle like crazy.”
“I wish they would SIX those,” said the other. “It’s hard to sleep when it’s jumping around like that.”
“He meant FIX those,” Clara giggled, offering her hand down to me to help me stand.
“Shut up,” I said, batting her hand away and standing on my own. “You’re full of shit and lies, so shut up.”
The Mumford boys started chuckling next to me, and I could hear them whispering to each other.
“Did you hear what he just said?”
“I know!”
“And you two, shut the fuck up!” I roared at them. They cowered as though I would hit them. Why would I hit them? I’ve never hit anybody before. But I can’t deny that I wanted to. The feeling burned in my hands and chest. I wanted to beat them bloody. I unclenched my fists and took a deep breath.
The bus stopped, and the Mumford boys ran inside like they were trying to get away from me. I got on and searched for Louise, moving to sit beside her. The seat next to her had always been empty for the last few weeks, and this way I wouldn’t have to sit next to my sister. There was Louise – her slouched, lumpy shape, her downcast face hidden in the same hoodie she always wore; I never thought I’d be so relieved to see her. Clara stuck out her tongue as she passed me, sitting in the back with the other fourth grade girls.
Louise was just staring out the window so I didn’t even have to talk to her, but I wanted distraction from all these unbidden thoughts. I stared at the back of Louise for a full minute without her turning to look at me.
“How are, Louise?” I asked her hoodie.
“FIVE. Five. Fine, I’m fine,” she mumbled. So much for getting my mind off of it. She drew her hood a little tighter around her face.
“Why did you correct yourself? Do you know that you said five first?” I asked.
“Yeah. Donno why.”
“You too then!” I exclaimed. “Well other people have been counting for me, I haven’t been. Did you have the dream?”
“I donno. I guess. Time is running out,” she mumbled, still not facing me. The bus had begun its lurching rattle towards school. “That was a long time ago though.”
“What do you mean? Time already ran out?” I asked.
“Well, not for everyone. It did for me though.” She finally turned towards me, and she was grinning. I had never seen Louise smile before. Her face was fat and dumpy, but her smile was huge. The longer I stared, the wider it got, until it looked as though it would split her whole head in two. I leapt into the aisle, and the next lurch of the bus sent me to my knees.
“I counted down weeks ago,” Louise said, but her smile remained fixed and motionless as the words came out. She started to stand over me, and I scooted away along the floor not taking my eyes off her.
“Oh, me too!” I heard another voice pipe up. Wilson, one of the fifth graders. He was standing a few rows back, and I watched in horror as his smile continued to grow. “I was afraid at first, but I’m not anymore. He doesn’t like it when you’re afraid. Now I just laugh.”
“You can’t let him see you being afraid,” Louise said from behind.
“Is someone on the FOUR back there?” yelled the bus driver. “Get off the floor, get to your seats. God sakes, we’re almost there.”
“Yes sir,” replied Louise and Wilson in perfect unison. I clambered back into my seat, not looking at either of them.
“What happens if he sees you’re afraid?” I whisper out of the corner of my mouth.
Louise laughed. I looked at her now, and saw her mouth opening so wide that it stretched from ear to ear, opening up large enough to swallow my whole head. Her teeth and tongue were still normal sized though, and they were so disproportionate to the swollen mouth that the teeth looked like tiny splinters hammered into her gums while her tongue lolled about disgustingly in the back like a shriveled up slug. Wilson gave an identical peal of laughter from behind, and I turned to see his mouth stretching gruesomely wide as well. Then Clara – my poor sister Clara – laughed in turn, but I refused to look at her. I couldn’t bear to see her like that.
The fourth toll. I knew it was coming, but I couldn’t stop myself. I took a deep breath of air and clasped my hands over my mouth, but I felt the trembling well up inside me. I shook so violently that I was afraid I would literally rip apart if I didn’t let it out. I felt seams burning into my skin as it stretched from within, and bright red lines shot down my arms where the blood swell up underneath. I screwed my eyes tight and gave in, laughing the fourth toll.
“Good for you,” I heard Clara say before me. “Keep laughing. Then he won’t know.”
“THREE are here. Now get out you little rascals. Stop whatever you’re playing at back there and get out,” the bus driver called as the rickety vehicle pulled to a stop. The doors slid open, and all the children filed out, bustling against each other and talking and laughing as though nothing happened. I turned to Louise who was looking at me with dead blank eyes, her mouth having recovered its old shape.
“What are you staring at?” she asked in monotone. “Stop blocking the way and let me out.”
I stepped aside quietly, and she shoved past me. My heart was racing. I felt sweat trickling along my neck, snaking its way down my back. I filed out of the bus, wordless. Clara stepped past me, smiling sweetly. I didn’t say anything. If I opened my mouth now, I was afraid that I would scream. Or worse yet, I would laugh again. I mustn’t let him know that I’m afraid, or he’ll take me too. A nausea swelled up inside me, and I stepped aside from the others to take a few deep breaths, hands on my knees. I can’t scream. I won’t. I can’t. He won’t take me like that.
“You know, we all think that,” Clara says from behind. I jumped. “Some of us don’t even make it to one. They get so terrified before that he goes ahead and takes them early.”
“He won’t take me. I’m not afraid,” I said belligerently. “The countdown will hit zero, and I still won’t be afraid, and then it will all be gone, right? I’ll wake up, or realize it was all a joke and I’ll laugh – NO! I won’t laugh, no more laughing. But it’ll all be over. I’ll have passed, right?”
“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t think anyone has ever passed before. I thought I would, but then he came and I was afraid TWO.”
“Afraid too? or two? Too or two?” I shouted at her, both sounding the same. Other children began to stare at me and point, but my voice kept getting louder. “Two or too? TWO OR TOO?”
She laughed, not a hollow laugh but a good natured one. “See you on the other side,” she said, and turned to go inside the building. Everyone else was inside now. If I walked in, then someone would say the final countdown, and he would come and take me. That was it! If I stayed out here, completely alone, then there would be no one to say the words. I just had to sit out here until it had all passed over. I just had to sit out here until I
woke up.
I walked alone to the playground, chill breeze lifting with the warming sun. I saw the kids running about the hall through the window, but they wouldn’t find me. No one would find me out here. I was conscious of how loud my foot falls were on the wood chips by the swings, so I turned and hurried to the pavement as quickly as I could. But my heart! My heart was beating so loudly I was sure someone would hear it. Someone would find me and say the words, and it would be over. I tried my chest with my hands, but it wouldn’t be still. God damnit, I wished it would stop beating. I pounded my chest in aggravation, wondering if I could find something sharp to silence it. I didn’t think about it as killing myself then, I just wanted the damn thing to stop.
I sat down on the curb, my hands clawing through my hair in aggravation. Maybe my ears. Maybe I could pull my ears off, and I wouldn’t hear the final count. It wouldn’t work if I couldn’t hear it, right? He wouldn’t be able to take me then. I grabbed my right ear with both hands and pulled so hard I thought it must come off, but then I cried out from the pain and let go. Had someone heard me? Would they come? My face felt so hot against the cool wind, my body was trembling, and I began to cry.
No! Someone will hear! But the trembling built to shakes, and the shakes into convulsions, and before I knew it, I was sobbing out loud. I couldn’t be alone forever. I had to make this stop. I wiped away my tears angrily and stood. Defiantly I yelled into the wind:
“One! Are you happy now? I want to wake up! 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0! Zero! Did you hear me?” I heard the howling of the wind getting louder behind me. This was it. He was coming, and it would all be over. “I said zero!” The roar behind me was deafening. At last I couldn’t hear my own heart anymore.
“TWELVE!” I shouted again. I said “TWELVE!”, and then I began to laugh. I felt a splitting pain in the sides of my mouth and I laughed even harder, knowing it was coming. Blood began gushing down my face as my maw distended horribly, and the laughter kept ringing out in even bursts. Rhythmic laughter, hollow laughter, like a broken toy. You might ask me why I laughed then, and I would tell you it was because I was afraid.
You might not understand, but you will. I laughed because twelve was gone forever. I laughed because I was afraid of ELEVEN.
Anger Management
I hate Clive. His smug lopsided grin, his greasy comb-over, his horn-rimmed glasses – I don’t think I’d brake if I saw him crossing the street. In fact, I fantasize about it every time I sit down in his office.
“Third time this week, huh?” he asked me.
“It’s not my fault,” I said. “I gave Robert every chance to back down. He’s the one who should be in here, not me.”
“He’s not the one who punched a dent in someone’s car.”
Of all the things I hate about Clive, nothing compares to his title as Human Resources Director. I wonder if he ever had sex, or if inconveniencing my life was the only thing he needed to get off.
“I apologized already, okay? Can I go back to work now?”
“I can’t just keep letting these incidents slide,” Clive said, pressing his glasses into his face like he was trying to glue them on. “This is going in my quarterly report to management.”
My fantasy of hitting him with the car now included a section where I back up once or twice. I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, and counted off a full ten seconds in my mind.
Getting written up would jeopardize my shot at the branch manager position. I didn’t waste four years of my life in this shit-hole just to stay in sales. As much as it hurt, I was going to have to suck up to this bean-bag masquerading as a human being.
“You’re right, you’re absolutely right,” I replied. “I was in the wrong there. Even though he was in my parking spot, I shouldn’t have punched his car. I know I have a problem, and I’ve started taking an anger management class. It’s going to help and this won’t happen again, so please give me one more chance before you report it.”
“Good for you buddy.”
Buddy. Call me that again, and I’ll jab my pen in your neck, buddy. I smiled.
“I’ll tell you what,” he added. “Give me the number of the place you’re meeting at, and I’ll check in with them. If they think you’re showing signs of improvement, I’ll keep this out of your report.”
Shit. Now I’ll actually have to go to a class. My mouth hurt from smiling so hard. “Sure thing, buddy,” I said. “I don’t have the number with me, but I’ll bring it in tomorrow.”
I opened the door and immediately shut it again. This couldn’t be the anger management class I found online. There was incense burning in there, and drums like some kind of freakin’ hippy circle. The door opened, and an old Asian man blended into the doorway.
I felt a certain tranquility just from looking at him. He wore immaculate ceremonial robes like some sort of priest, and his snow-white hair cascaded down his back in gentle waves. He bowed low to me, his body curving with a supple grace which utterly belied his apparent age.
“Hi, is this where the United Way anger group meets?”
“Welcome kind sir. My name is Ikari, and it is so good to see a man such as yourself so in command of his own destiny. Won’t you please come in?”
There weren’t any corny brochures with perfect models saying anger gives you ulcers. No dolls for me to be nice to, no punching bags to vent on. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.
“The website said 6:30. Where is everyone?” I asked.
There weren’t even any chairs in the small room. Two cushions were placed on the ground between a pair of bonsai trees, and Ikari sat down on one to face me.
“No others, only you. I do not need groups, because those who seek my help must only ask once to be saved.”
“I don’t need saving, okay?” I was starting to feel uncomfortable. The website looked legit, but this guy seemed more like a cultist than a therapist. What if he didn’t have the right accreditation or something? I could be wasting my time.
“I handle my own issues just fine,” I added. “All I need is for you to talk to the HR director at my work and tell him – whatever – tell him I’m master of my destiny or something. I already paid online, so are we good?”
“We are far from good, for we are each imperfect beings inflicted with the human condition. Do not worry though, you will soon be better.”
I checked my watch. Tight smile. Can someone sprain a muscle from forcing too many of those? It felt like it. I sat cross-legged on the available pillow, and tried not to swear at the awkward position.
“Fucking shit.” Oops. Oh well, he already knew I had an issue. “Sorry. Don’t you have a chair?”
Ikari just smiled, but his was nothing like my smile. His bubbled straight up from the warmth in his heart. It was patient and wise, almost as though he was reading straight from the Divine playbook of the Universe and knew everything was following the script.
“Do you know why there is suffering?” Ikari asked. The measured tone made me pretty sure he wasn’t talking about the lack of chairs.
“Because we’re all evil sinners who deserve it?” I asked.
“No-one deserves to suffer,” Ikari replied. “But we do, because we each carry a Demon in our hearts. Anger, jealousy, hatred, misery – these are ways we feed our Demon. And do you know what happens when we’ve fed it for too long?”
I shook my head. My Demon must be pretty full by now.
Ikari leaned in close to me and whispered: “Gobble gobble gobble. It eats us right up.” The way he said it made me shudder. It was like he was satisfying a greedy pleasure just from speaking the words. I felt immense relief when he settled back into his own cushion before continuing.
“Eventually, our Demon becomes stronger than we are, and it gets to be the one on the outside. Who we are – who we were – that gets locked away. And unless someone tricks the Demon into eating kindness, gratitude, patienc
e, and other virtues, we will never become strong enough to wrestle the Demon back down.”
“So how do we stop feeding the Demon?” I asked.
“You take away its food,” Ikari produced a small wooden jewelry box, every inch of which was engraven with Japanese lettering, “and you put it in here. Have a bad feeling? Write it down on a piece of paper, slip the paper through this hole in the top. Angry at someone? Give it to the box. It won’t be long before your Demon begins to starve. Every problem can be solved by simply putting it in the box.”
“And that’s it? I won’t be angry?” I was trying really hard not to laugh at him.
“And I shall tell Mr. HR that you are all better,” Ikari smiled and handed me the box. “Only one more thing – you must not ever open the box, or Gobble gobble gobble. Your Demon will feed again.”
What a load, right? But that was easier than sitting through a bunch of dumb meetings. I would have just thrown the box out right then, but Ikari might check it later to see the notes I’d put in.
When I got home, I figured I’d just get it all out of the way at once so I wouldn’t have to think about it. I grabbed a notebook and tore out a couple dozen pieces of paper.
The feeling when I’m stuck going 5 mph on the freeway. Slip.
Clive’s everything. I hate him so damn much. Slip.
People who kick dogs. I wish they’d kick Clive instead. Slip.
The more I wrote, the more ideas began flooding into my head. Everything I could think of that pissed me off started cramming into the box.
People who steal parking spaces (fuck you Robert).
The taste of orange juice after brushing your teeth.
Every girl who has ever given me that “it’s not you, it’s me” shit.
The box didn’t look that big, and I expected it to only take ten minutes to fill. Three hours later though, I had emptied an entire notebook, and still couldn’t feel the paper inside. But do you know what I did feel?
Like a mother-fuckin’ Buddha. It seemed absolutely ludicrous that any of those things have ever bothered me before. Poor Clive, just trying to do his job. Why did I have to give him such a hard time? And Robert should have my parking spot near the door. He was older than me, and I didn’t mind the exercise. So how in the world did I get to the point of punching a dent in his car?
