page 2

“Please! Please don’t start there. That was years and years ago. There has got to be a more appropriate place to start. Like at high school graduation, or something.”

“You need to understand, Harold, the connections go back to that game. It was after that game that Jonny ‘two-heads’ Roberts introduced me to Clairese. The entire story won’t make sense without starting there.”

I was sweating and near tears. “Fine, Branch. I think you’re taking unfair advantage of me, but go ahead. What ever it takes to hear what it is that you have to say.”

“Very well. Now we will have to start all over. My third grade soccer team was heading into the championship game-“

From there Branch proceeded to weave a dizzying tapestry of boring and pointless stories that were all connected by remote threads of commonly boring incidents. Each and every detail that left his mouth was surprisingly void of substance. There was no possible chance of gaining any knowledge or entertainment out of what he was saying.

It didn’t really matter what words he was saying, as the general impression that one would receive from the space in between those words. It was like some sort of subconscious force was driving that which he was saying, and if you tried had enough not to listen, nor to think, you would find hidden within his monologue a secret and mysterious answer to a forgotten question.

When one usually relates a story, for example one that may take place over the course of several days, they cut out the extra and unwanted time out of a common courtesy for all living things. But all that is cut out of such stories was being taken by Branch Paterson, and from that he would construct and formulate his stories. It was the meaningless filler only; endless traps of words that lead to nowhere. It would be less confusing and more life enriching to walk headfirst into a world that consisted of an extra dimension than our current one does. There wasn’t a one coherent, interesting, enriching, textured, lucid, or otherwise useful sentence in the three hours that I endured his rambling.

He started out with fragments of scenes, like dust particles floating in space. They gathered together, slowly, slowly, through remote strains of gravity. Eventually, the endless anecdotes-disguised-as-stories began to paint a picture of an emerging universe. Compression and contraction of plot lines produced heat and eventually fusion. His one-after-the-other pointless points started to breed new life of their very own, carving out intricate landscapes and environments capable of supporting complex life forms. The story of millions of years of evolution played out before me, masked as piles of gibberish being slurried out of this creature’s mouth. I saw stages of human life played out on top of sediments of planetary change. More and more his words built a strange world, with histories and relations becoming familiar and, indeed, recognizable, until I saw the present state of the globe in short form.

I began to notice that my mind had lulled itself into an almost trance-like state. The rhythmic and nonsensical sounds that echoed out of his head made my brain kick into a waking dream for some sort of apparent survival purpose. This depiction of the world that Branch had painted was a disturbing orchestration of the very plight of humankind. It was life that I saw! Life, in its ceaseless struggle! Life in its heartless fight for all that we more life, for all that we love, for all that we feel, that we know, think, believe, for all that we are! I began to weep for the love my heart housed for the beast known as man. I wept for all who love and lose and suffer and love again only to feel the pain, the endless sorrow of being! The emotional torment was too heavy a burden for any man to bear, and I thought I should die of strain and heartache.

But then it happened. I started seeing something more. I started seeing the intellectual and emotional apex of the human experience. I saw before my eyes the display of the unlimited potential of human kind. I saw what man was capable of dreaming, and capable of accomplishing. I was seeing, as solid as anything, a circus before my eyes, entirely run by bears. Tricks and acts of every number were on display for all to see. The bears were entertainers of the highest caliber, performing stunts that no human ever would dare. Never before had the brown and the black bear worked in such magnificent harmony with the common goal to wow, please, and cheer a group of entertainment hungry fans who were delighted to devour whatever fantastic feats the bears saw fit to toss in their direction. With the pleased crowd covered in their own passion for living. The people filled with hope, and love, and every wonder imaginable. It was truly fantastic and mesmerizing.

Suddenly my life saving hallucination was shattered by Branch Paterson. My mind was pulled away from the blissful bear thespians. The world crumbled before my eyes, revealing the previous, forgotten realm that I had lived in for years.

“Anyway, Harold,” interrupted Branch. “After graduation, Clairese signed my yearbook.”

“She did?”

“Yes, and she gave me her new phone number.”

“Thank you, Branch, please tell me what it was.”

“That’s just the thing, Harold, she signed it with a 1989 Bic Easygrip II ball-point pen. The very kind that as we all know was mistakenly filled with disappearing ink.”

My face turned a new color of red, the intensity of which is unmatched by the ripest tomato. My vision became clouded with wispy imagery of bloody murder. My hands curled into fists and I was ready to commit any number of terrible atrocities against the evil man who sat across from me. Undoubtedly, my intentions were written on my face, as Brach acted quickly to defuse the bomb.

“But that’s not all! I saw her at the Johnsonville mall in Calcutta this last summer.”

“You did?”

“And I knew that you would appreciate it if I got her number for you.”

My blood pressure dropped and hope reentered my heart.

“But she didn’t recognize me, so I decided to leave well enough alone.”

Angrily, I leapt from my seat. I lunged at him, but ended up falling over the table that was in between us. He scampered away, yelling. I picked up a chair and threw it at him. He dove to the ground, and I advanced, planning to land on his body and crush him to death.

It was then that the hands of several other students grabbed and restrained me.

I haven’t seen Branch since the hearing. I search for him, now. What humors possess me, drive me to find him, I am not certain. Whether it be his blood, or his secret teaching that I yearn for is a secret, even to me. This wonderful vision, and this wonderful hatred both will live within me until I, and Branch, discover which is stronger.

Back to Index