I slowly get off the stage and sit back
down. I don't look at anyone. I'm bummed out. Like, super bummed out.
Mr. W. Scott continues checking things off on his clipboard. Someone heads to the
stage and I'm not hearing anything they say. That Shame Circle is no
fun. That ant is still sitting in the third row and just staring at
me. No one else seems to notice him. I don't think its real. But kids
with their body modifications these days who knows for sure?
“You okay?” Sad Sack asks me. I
shake my head. “Its weird seeing you like this. But a good kind of
weird. You're quiet. I like it.” He nudges me and I shove him away.
Not hard but enough to get attention.
“Is there a problem?” Mr. W. Scott
asks. “Because there is nothing I like more than solving problems.”
I'm not sure how to react right now. I can't see the ant anymore. Its
not good to lose track of a ant that big.
“Can I go next?” Softy asks. “I
would like to go next.”
“No” Mr. W. Scott says.
“I'm good!” I say louder than I
wanted to. “I mean...I'm okay. I'm fine.”
“That is not true but we need to move
on--” Mr. W. Scott says until...
“Where the fuck is that ant?!” I
scream. Sad Sack almost falls out of his chair. “So its just me?
I'm the only one that saw the giant ant?”
“Delirium
tremens” Softy says. “This man needs medication.”
“This
meeting is over” Mr. W. Scott says. He and Softy have a stare down
that is more intense than the hardest of hardcore porn. If someone
walked in between them they'd burst into flames. Everyone slowly gets
up to leave and I join them. “Mr. Thompson, sit.” I sit. Damn it.
“You may leave” he tells Softy.
“I'd
rather stay” she replies. Damn. She is becoming my second favorite
person after Dick Armey. Just because of his name, not for any of his
views. This is a good, old fashioned Mexican standoff. Oh, there's
that ant! He's in the back row now. I wave to him. He waves back. Mr.
W. Scott and Softy look at me and then the ant. “Who are you waving
to?” she asks me.
“That
big ass ant” I tell her. She raises an eyebrow at me, looks at her
father, and then leaves.
“Come
here” Mr. W. Scott says to me. I make my way to the stage again. “I
do not give up on people often, but you are forcing my hand.”
“You
gave up on your daughter, didn't you?”
I
don't even know what he did to me. I just know that it hurt my face
and chest and that the ceiling of this place is spotless. Mr. W.
Scott places his foot on my throat and leans in close enough for me
to tell you that his nose hairs are immaculately trimmed and his
breath smells of mint.
“You
know absolutely nothing about me or the relationship I have with
Carol” he says to me in the same flat tone as always. At least I know her
name now. Carol. She looks more like a Jennifer. Jennifer's are
always hot. Like his daughter. He slaps me across the face. “If I
see you anywhere near my daughter I will kick your heart out of your
ass.”
“Your
threats aren't as funny as they were the other day” I tell him. He
steps down harder on my throat making me gag.
“I
am paid to make sure that by the time you leave here that you are no
longer a threat to anyone other than yourself” he says while taking
his foot off of my throat. “If you make a full recovery here, which
you will, and die in traffic moments later I shall rest knowing that
my job was done and done well. Now stand up.” I slowly get up and
dust myself off. He punches me in the stomach. I may have shit myself. I look in the seats
and that ant is laughing at me. While I'm doubled over he whispers in
my ear. “Go near my daughter again and I will slice pieces from you
and they will be pieces you would not expect could cause so much
pain.”
He shoves me down with his foot and walks out while I'm on the ground trying to remember what it was like to not have to shit so badly and have air in my lungs. And then I begin to figure out how to get with his daughter. I look in the seats and that ant is laughing at me.
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