MicroHorror

I don’t think most people like me at all. The people that commute to work and go to soccer games and things, those people. And that’s tragic, because I love people. I really do. I try to talk to them as they pass me on the sidewalk, but no one speaks to me. They won’t even look at me, as if direct eye contact with me would somehow infect them with my poverty. That hurts.

Then I met Roland. He saw me at the bus station one afternoon, sat next to me, and we began to speak. He looked so, so lonely. He looked a lot like me before I met my friends. He seemed to enjoy speaking with me, and that felt good, but more than that, he listened to me, as if he’d know my opinion on any number of topics. That was even better.

We talked for hours. He said I was his only friend. I told him I had lots of friends, and that one, Clara, was waiting for me to return and make dinner. Pork and beans. He wanted to meet her, so together we walked across town to the abandoned factory that Clara and I called home. She was sitting at our table when we arrived. I told her I was sorry for being so late, but I brought a guest home for dinner.

Much to my surprise, Roland didn’t like Clara at all. I’m not sure why. It may have been because she was quiet, but Clara never was much of a talker. She was a listener. Or maybe it was because her clothes were little more than rags, but being homeless, she didn’t have a clothing budget. It might have been because she smelled bad, and she did smell horrible. She needed a bath, but I definitely did not want to give her one. That just seemed… inappropriate.

Of course, it might have been because sometime last month her jaw had fallen off and was still sitting in front of her in her soup bowl. She never bothered to pick it up and she never complained about it, so I just let it go. Also, her hair and scalp were scorched from the time she fell out of her chair and landed face-first into the fire I was using to heat up our pork and beans. That might have been the reason, too.

Whatever the reason, Roland hated her. He began yelling and pointing, so I told him to wait, just wait a minute. Maybe he would like my other friends better. I went to the supply closet and dragged out the rest of my friends. All five of them. It wasn’t hard. I had them all strapped to chairs, so all I had to do was drag them out, chair and all. I put them around the table and smiled at Roland. But he did not like them any more than he liked Clara, and now he was holding his nose and retching as if he wanted to vomit.

I didn’t understand what his trouble was and neither did my friends. They just sat there, so quiet. I told him that these people are my friends and that they all looked so lonely when I met them. I told him they all mean the world to me because they are the best friends and listeners. And then I told him that if he didn’t relax and sit down that I was going to chop off his head.

He tried to run away, but I was able to use the plank board hidden behind the door to persuade him to stay. He eventually adjusted and now he has no complaints. In fact, he sits right next to Clara. He doesn’t speak as much as he used to, but he is still a great listener, and that is what I look for in a friend.

Someone who will listen to me.