Incelbordination, Chapter 22

Now that Oswald’s eyes had been wrung completely dry and his heart was shattered and glued back together multiple times, the final piece of the puzzle involved the bouquet of roses he cradled in his little arms. Where Tuomas Magnus had none, somebody else would inherit these fragrant, gorgeous red roses. Oswald took an extra sniff of them as if to mask the sadness crippling him from the inside. By the time he made it to the graveyard, somebody was already there paying tribute.

Kneeling and praying over Jessica Bradley’s grave was a redheaded woman who looked old enough to be her sister. Whoever she was, she delicately laid a Disney tapestry over the gravestone to go with the rest of the flowers mourners had sent. Jessica loved Disney movies. The Mickey Mouse heads on the tapestry were a lovely touch. The tears in this mystery woman’s eyes hydrated the grass beneath while her sobs were only heard by the most delicate ears.

The woman turned around and wiped the wetness from her face. “Sorry, I didn’t see you back there until now.”

“No problem,” said Oswald with a face longer than his body. He limped over to Jessica’s grave and gently laid his bouquet of roses underneath the Mickey Mouse tapestry. The little guy sighed as he tried to suppress his tears, though they wouldn’t be completely out of place in a setting like this.

“So…how did you know my sister?” asked the young lady.

Not wanting to let on how they actually met, Oswald said in his most genuine tone, “We were friends. She taught me how to come out of my shell.”

The woman smiled as she wiped her face yet again. “I wish people would remember her for that instead of what she had to go through. It’s not her fault at all. I just…I just wish I could have done something about it.”

At the risk of being unfairly labeled a perv, Oswald made the first move when he placed his hand on the sister’s shoulder. “Whatever happened between you and Jessica, it’s not your fault.”

The sister gave an alarmed look at Oswald’s hand, but not for the reason the little guy thought. “What happened to your knuckles?”

“It’s a long story, one that I’m not quite ready to tell just yet. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you and your sister. I came here to pay my respects. I just wish there were more roses surrounding her grave.”

Without warning, the sister hugged Oswald and soaked his shoulders with an even greater abundance of tears. Being overwhelmed by all of this emotion wore off eventually when Oswald hugged her back. He wasn’t about to get into the semantics of hugging a complete stranger when he himself just came from a cuddle therapy session with someone named Kristen Jealous.

Once the sorrowful embrace broke, the sister said, “Sorry, where are my manners? My name is Sarah-Jane.”

“I’m Oswald. Nice to meet you.”

Sarah-Jane smiled as the two of them shook hands. “That’s an unusual name.”

“My full name is Oswald Roman Crow. My initials spell ORC.”

Sarah-Jane giggled. “That’s funny. My mom’s name is also Sarah-Jane, but her maiden name was Walter. So her initials used to spell SJW.”

The two of them shared a laugh together and hugged once again. “You see this?” said Oswald. “This is what life should be about: two people sharing a laugh and having fun together.”

“I could have told you that. I just wish I could have told Jessica that before she decided to…do what she did. I don’t think she ever got enough love back home. Heh, if that’s not the understatement of the year, I don’t know what the hell is.”

Knowing that the waters were properly tested, Oswald took his affectionate ways a step further by squeezing Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. This was so well received that she turned around and sat on her butt to get the full effect of the shoulder rub. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these. Are you sure your hands aren’t hurting? Those knuckles look like…”

Cutting her off, Oswald said, “It’s alright, I swear. My fists have been through worse.”

“Really now?” asked Sarah-Jane. “Seriously, what happened to your fists? I know you said this trip was all about Jessica and all, but I legitimately want to know.”

Oswald sighed and tucked his head, but never stopped squeezing Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. “I don’t even remember how long ago this happened, but there was a terrorist attack on campus. I’m sure you probably heard about it in the media and hopefully secondhand information is all you have. I experienced this shit firsthand. The reason I have scarred knuckles is because I punched down a glass door to rescue someone. She swears I’m a hero, but I don’t feel like one right now. Some days I feel like I’ve done more harm than good.”

“Risking your life to save someone else’s doesn’t sound very cowardly to me. I think you should get a medal just for that.”

The little guy stopped the massage and patted Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. “They don’t give out medals to people who are unfairly suspected of being part of the group that attacked our school.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Sarah-Jane spun around and tenderly gripped Oswald’s shoulders. “The fact that you came by to leave roses on my sister’s grave is honorable enough on its own. Society doesn’t normally give two shits about teenage prostitutes. They’re all about saving the children, but when they need help the most, society turns their backs. So much for law and order.”

“Why do you blame yourself for your sister’s death?”

“Because I don’t even live in this city. I live a few counties over and…” The tears returned. “I didn’t even know what was happening to her. I had a career of my own, but I couldn’t even find the time to pick up the damn phone and send her a text message? I could have saved her, Oswald. If I didn’t live so far away…”

Oswald placed a fingertip on Sarah-Jane’s lips and said, “Enough. Like you said, you didn’t even know what was going on with her until now. There was nothing you could have done. There was nothing I or anybody else could have done either. If you want justice for her, then use your voice. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. It took me a while to learn that and I’m still slowly learning more about it…but if you want someone to help you with this…I’m here for you.”

“You just met me a few minutes ago, Oswald. How can you possibly want to help me now?”

“Because…if I do nothing, then things will only get worse. I’ve played the role of bystander and I’ve also played the role of fuck-up. I want to do good things with my life from now on and if that means helping you through this dark time, then so be it.”

Sarah-Jane cupped Oswald’s face in her hands. “You’re a sweet guy. I don’t know you that well, but you’re a sweet guy. And you’re a teddy bear, too.”

The two of them smiled while Oswald’s face reddened at the teddy bear comment. Their faces were only inches away from each other. It only seemed right. Was Oswald ready to make that next move or would this be considered too desperate? Could he do the unthinkable and…kiss her? The thought made his hands sweat and his throat dry. This woman was hurting enough as it was. He didn’t need to make things worse with a kiss. But then Sarah-Jane pulled her face even closer and…

“Oh-ho-ho-ho….he-he-he…ha-ha-ha…and I thought MY jokes were bad,” said a familiar husky voice as a behemoth of a man cast his shadow over Oswald and Sarah-Jane, completely breaking up their loving moment.

Miss Bradley’s breathing quickened while Oswald’s was deeper and hoarser. The little guy clenched his fists, furrowed his brows, and tightened his teeth. “Wacey…this is neither the time nor the place for your sick and twisted bullshit. We’re in a graveyard, for shit’s sake!”

“Oh, I think this is the perfect time and place for this, little guy. We ARE in a graveyard. The only thing that’s missing is a tombstone with your name on it. Who knows? Maybe I’ll carve one for your newfound girlfriend over here.”

Incelbordination, Chapter 21

The penultimate smack in the face for Oswald was being forced to go to therapy. The ultimate smack in the face was knowing it would affect his final grade in English if he didn’t. He must have read that email from Valerie Sand fifteen hundred times, but his fist-tightening anger didn’t subside any more than the first time. “Who the fuck does she think she is?” he wondered aloud as he swung his little feet in the computer chair. He took care not to pound his fists, for they were still healing slowly. He took one last look at his bruised knuckles and wondered when he would be able to punch the “Sand bag” again. “Therapy…I don’t fucking need therapy!” he huffed as he got dressed and exited the dorm.

The little guy still wore his medical boot and still had a modicum of pain shoot throughout his foot with each step, but the wincing and limping were minor prices to pay for his recovery. At least the therapist’s office wouldn’t be too far from here. But even so, it was still his longest trek due to how many people around him still had those ghostly expressions. Maybe they needed therapy too. Maybe they were already going to therapy and it didn’t do diddly-squat. Did they have their grades depend on this too or was Oswald the odd man out?

Oswald didn’t want to admit it at first, but when he first arrived at the therapist’s office, he was already comforted by the atmosphere around him. Harp music to relax his ears, receptionists talking in their best ASMR voices, paintings on the wall of gorgeous pink sunsets, and not one stereotypical “cray-cray” person sitting in the waiting room. “Good morning! How can I help you?” asked one of the receptionists with her sweetest smile.

“My name is Oswald Crow. I was told to come here by my English teacher Valerie Sand. She might have already scheduled an appointment for me, but I’m not sure.” Oswald just then figured out how much venom was oozing from his mouth as he spoke those words. It must have been like talking to a spitting cobra for this poor young lady behind the desk.

Nonetheless, she typed away at her computer and never once lost her gentle disposition. “Okay, Oswald, I’ll let Dr. Jealous know you’re here. Take a seat in the waiting room anywhere you like.”

“Thank you.” The waiting area wasn’t exactly packed to the brim with traumatized patients, but even so it was hard for Oswald to pick a seat without getting in someone’s personal space. This was his strategy all throughout high school and college: pick a seat completely isolated from the rest of the group. He could’ve sat next to the cute chick texting on her phone. He could’ve sat next to the fat guy in the Star Wars T-shirt enjoying a bag of Doritos. He could’ve sat next to the middle aged lady gazing languidly into the distance. So few options, yet he had to choose. Or did he?

“Oswald Crow?” said a gentle feminine voice, which caused the little guy to jump a little bit before clutching his pumping chest. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Kristen Jealous. I’ll be your therapist today.” She and Oswald shook hands. “Follow me into my office.”

Oswald couldn’t help but wonder why this lovely woman wasn’t wearing shoes. In fact, the sweat pants and Mickey Mouse sweatshirt didn’t exactly scream therapist from the mountaintop. Something was fishy about this whole setup and it all became clear once Oswald noticed a bed in the center of the room instead of a stereotypical leather couch. “What’s going on here?”

“Well, when Ms. Sand made your therapy appointment for you, she figured you could use this specific kind of treatment. Our session is going to last two hours and it’s going to be cuddle therapy.”

“C…cuddle therapy?”

Placing her soft hand on Oswald’s shoulder, Kristen said, “Yes. We’re going to cuddle for two hours and try to get you to open up. There’s one ground rule before we begin. This is a nonsexual activity, so any perverted comments or actions will result in the termination of this session. By that same token, the whole purpose of this treatment is to make you as comfortable as possible. If you don’t like something I’m doing, please let me know.”

“…C….C…Cuddle therapy?”

Kristen gave a closed-mouth giggle and said, “Don’t worry about a thing, Oswald. I’ll take good care of you. I know you’re nervous, but you don’t have to be. I promise you that this will be one hundred-percent safe. When we’re done, you’ll be nice and relaxed.”

“…O…Okay, um…”

Gently squeezing the back of his neck, Kristen said, “Do whatever you have to do to get comfortable and I’ll be waiting for you on the bed.” With a few more pats of the little guy’s shoulders, Dr. Jealous plopped down on the bed and patted Oswald’s half of the mattress.

Taking a few deep breaths, Oswald removed his T-shirt and footwear before hobbling to his side of the bed. He surprised himself by how easy it was to pull his body up without assistance. Maybe he was healing nicely after all. He rolled on his side with his back facing Dr. Jealous while the longhaired therapist pressed her body against his and ran her fingernails through his now spiked hair.

Any nervousness about this process and any ill will Oswald had towards Valerie Sand melted away when the tingling sensations ran through his scalp. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, already sinking into the bed.

“See? There’s nothing wrong with clean physical contact,” said Kristen while squeezing Oswald’s shoulders and spine. “Now, do you know why you’re here today?”

“Because my English teacher thinks I’m a fruitcake?”

“Couldn’t be further from the truth. Besides, I don’t like to use that word to describe my patients. It’s very derogatory.”

Oswald’s face reddened when he said, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I can understand your frustration. Your teacher tells me that you have a hard time letting people into your life, that you struggle with loneliness, that your loving needs aren’t being met.”

“Am I that obvious?” asked Oswald in a progressively relaxed voice. “People don’t like to be around me because of who I am and what I look like. They think I’m some kind of circus sideshow. I’ve even heard stories about drunken frat boys throwing my kind across bar counters for fun and games. I’m angry, Dr. Jealous. I don’t let people in because they’ll just stab me in the fucking heart.”

Transitioning into a waist hug, Kristen said, “While I do admit there are some guys in this world who think that way about people with dwarfism, it’s not the whole population. Most people are good to each other. Most people would look at someone like you and smile their friendliest smile. You might have to go out of your way to find these kindred spirits, but they exist and they’re waiting for you.”

“I’ve only found a handful of people on campus who fit that bill. Even then they don’t have any qualms about leaving my life and letting me rot.” A single tear rolled down Oswald’s face and Kristen wiped it away with her finger before working on his shoulders again.

“They leave your life because you don’t pursue them. Truth is, they’re probably hurting just as badly as you are. They don’t make the first move because they’re the ones who’re afraid of rejection, not you. I’ve had many patients come and go who had the exact same attitude towards social situations as you. They yearn for love of some kind, but they don’t pursue it because they’re afraid of getting their hearts broken.”

“They’re right to feel that way.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t feel that way about you,” said Kristen while resting her head against Oswald’s shoulder. “I know it’s my job to make my patients feel good about themselves, but I wouldn’t have this job in the first place if I didn’t feel some sort of empathy towards my clients. That’s kind of a requirement.”

Oswald smiled. “True.”

“You know…on the day you’re able to find a girlfriend, she’s going to want to cuddle with you a lot. She might even call you her little teddy bear. It’s not a knock against your dwarfism. It’s a celebration of cuteness.”

Oswald’s face glowed like a nuclear rod as he did his best to hide his smile.

Dr. Jealous continued, “I really do believe there’s somebody out there for you. Someone who you can share opinions with. Someone you can share moments with. It doesn’t even have to be someone romantic. It could just be a friend who cares about you. Friends can engage in physical contact too. That’s what I want you to think of me as: your friend. You can tell me anything you want.”

“…Anything?”

“Anything you want.”

Oswald didn’t even know where to begin. So many thoughts swirling his head and this was his one opportunity to get it all off his chest. It took him a while to come up with a launching point, but when he did, another tear rolled down his cheek. “I almost became an incel.”

“You what?”

Holding his thumb and forefinger together, he said, “I was this close to joining Incelbordination. I was lonely and scared. I didn’t think anybody in this world wanted me, so it only felt right to be a part of this. I wanted to hurt the world so badly. I wanted them to feel my pain and my agony. But…I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. And now I have nothing to show for it.”

Wiping away more of Oswald’s tears with her fingers, Kristen said, “You do have something to show for it: wisdom. You’ve seen the worst side of humanity and you didn’t give in. You almost did as you’ve just said, but you overcame that. That alone takes courage. You’re a hero, Oswald. You can inspire people in a positive way if you so chose.”

“How? Nobody will listen to me and anybody that does just thinks of me as a walking C+.”

“C+ or no C+, you’re still going to graduate from this place one day. And when you do, all the pain and suffering will be worth it. College can oftentimes be a depressing experience, but for you, it can be an opportunity to grow into something greater than yourself. Your teachers don’t care about the grades you get as much as they care about the person you become once you leave their classrooms.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

“Doubt is a natural emotion, but not if it gets in the way of your greatest ambitions. I want you to be happy, Oswald. I want you to make friends, make love, and be the sweetest teddy bear you can be.”

Oswald’s tears turned into a full-on crying session and Kristen Jealous was there to hold him every step of the way. Scratching his back, rubbing his shoulders, playing with his hair, these things made crying a comfortable part of the process. For the first time in forever, the little guy felt secure. He felt loved. He didn’t want to leave the comfort of this room despite the fact that the session was only two hours long. “Why does this have to last for only two hours?” he sobbed aloud.

“Because I have other clients to see who need my help just as much as you do. Otherwise…I’d cuddle you for as long as you needed it. This doesn’t have to be our last session. In fact, I hope to see more of you in the future…you little teddy bear.”

“I love you.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Sorry…I’m really sorry about that.”

“Wasn’t the first time somebody told me that by accident. Won’t be the last either. You’re safe in my arms, Oswald. Cry as much as you want. Heal as much as you need to.”

The rest of the two hour session was spent doing those things: crying and healing. And it felt good to do that after so many years of loneliness and isolation.

Incelbordination, Chapter 20

Oswald Crow hated the man he saw in the mirror. He could forgive the fact that he had to stand on a footstool to see that image. He could forgive his own inability to attract women (despite his latest crush being married). He could forgive the idea that he’d caused all of his own worst problems. But the part that really made him stare bullets into the mirror…was his hair and his beard. He stroked his long, greasy locks with so much force that he damned near pulled out the follicles. He gripped his shaggy beard like he was making a fist, as if the thought of punching himself in the face was his greatest idea yet.

“No more…no more of this garbage…” he said with a menacing scowl. He gingerly stepped down from the footstool and put his medical boot back on. Walking had gotten a hell of a lot easier since his (hopefully) final encounter with Antero. He didn’t limp nearly as much and his speed had picked up just a little bit. All that was left was for him to find a better shirt to wear and out on the town he would go. How about Dark Side of the Moon T-shirt with prism, rainbow, and all?

When Oswald went for his trek downtown, he still played it safe and walked at a tender pace. Any residual pain he suffered in his foot was downplayed by one long glance around the misty city. A terrorist attack happened not too long ago and people still carried on with their daily lives. Some still shook with fear. Some still had the color drained from their faces. Some even shed a few tears. But even with all of this latent fear, Valerie’s prophecy came true: life went on. Oswald expected the results to be no different when he entered Two Bits Barber Shop.

But even for customer service standards, the barbers looked somewhat happy, just minding their own business and accumulating a pile of hair on the ground like nothing had happened. The blond lady at the service desk smiled a warm smile down at Oswald and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Do you take walk-ins?”

“We sure do. In fact, we have an opening right now if you’re ready.”

“Cool.”

“Can I get your name, please?”

“Oswald Crow.” He said his name with slight trepidation, as if it was as blasphemous to say as Jesus fucking Christ in a crowded mega church. But it turned out his name held no such weight in this strange barber shop. He wasn’t as big of a villain as he imagined himself to be.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the woman penciled his name in her schedule and never lost her happy expression. “Alright, Oswald, looks like I’ll be taking care of you today. My name is Callie. Do you need any help getting set up?”

“Nah, I’ve got this,” he said as he struggled to get into the barber’s chair. There were a few instances where he slipped and slid, much to the head shaking, hands-on-hips chagrin of Callie. She grabbed him by the hand and lifted him into the chair with minimal effort. “Guess I needed help after all.”

“You really shouldn’t be shy about accepting help from others. It’s what brings us all together,” said Callie while running her fingers through Oswald’s hair. “So what are we doing today?”

The little guy really didn’t think this one through. What would he look good with? A Mohawk? A high fade? A bald head? All he could muster up was a long, “Uh” and this got a giggle from Callie. She said, “How about if I surprise you with something? I think you’re going to like what I have in mind.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Oswald said, “Sure, why not?”

With that Callie got right to work on Oz-Man’s new hairstyle. Lots of spraying, lots of buzz-cutting, and lots of scissor snipping. There was enough hair on the ground to create another Oswald Crow and two Burmese kitties.

“So what do you do for a living?” asked Callie.

“I’m unemployed.”

“Oh,” said Callie with a twisted mouth and shifting eyes. “Okay.”

“I take that back. I’m a sex surrogate at a funeral home.”

The barber made a flat tire noise and shook her head at the joke. “See, that would have been a better response than saying you’re unemployed.”

“But it’s a lie.”

“Of course it was. I don’t think anybody here would willingly believe you get paid to do…that. The important thing here is that you have a sense of humor about it. Employers like that kind of thing. Granted, I wouldn’t use that particular joke, but you get the idea.”

“I don’t even know what I’m going to do once I get out of college.”

“Wait a minute, you’re in college? Why didn’t you say that when I asked you what you did for a living?”

“Because I don’t get paid for it. I’m the one making all the payments here.”

Patting Oz-Man’s shoulders, Callie said, “Listen, you don’t have to get paid in order to call something your profession. It could be something as simple as a hobby like building things or writing stories or carving soap.”

“Or sitting on my ass watching television.”

Callie let out a hearty laugh and struggled to compose herself. “Wow. You are something else, Oswald. On second thought, maybe being your delightful self is just what you need to land a job.”

He smiled, “I’m not as delightful as you think.”

“Oh really? Is that how you scared me off just now?” The little man didn’t have an answer for that except for a small sigh. “The fact that you’re willing to come in here and get a nice haircut shows me you care at least just a little bit what the world thinks of you.”

“Maybe I don’t care enough.”

“That’s something you need to find a balance with. You should care just enough to get your foot in the door and just little enough that you don’t lose yourself along the way. It takes work, but as a college student, you’re more than ready for it. I know it.”

Oswald kept quiet the rest of the time he was getting his haircut. Hating small talk aside, he didn’t want to get pieces of his locks in his mouth. He may have spit out a few strands here and there. But before he knew it, Oswald truly was a new man underneath all of that Wookie fur. The top of his head had short spikes, he had a low fade just underneath, and his beard was just short enough to not resemble an African jungle. The next time he looked in the mirror, he felt less and less like punching himself in the face. He ran his fingers through his remaining hair and said in a soft voice, “I look good.”

“You sure do,” said Callie with her sweet smile. “But we’re not done yet.”

As the barber walked away, a much taller presence in the form of a longhaired young man approached Oswald from the rear. At first the little guy swallowed a lump in his throat, thinking this guy was going to crush him with his massive hands. But instead the man with Damian on his nametag gently squeezed the tension out of Oswald’s shoulders and scalp. All the injuries, the bruises, and the cuts he received throughout his journey melted away from him like butter on popcorn. He could have transformed into a puddle right there on the chair.

No small talk, no frills, no gimmicks of any kind, just a gentle massage Oswald never knew he needed until then. He closed his eyes and allowed his healing mind to take him to faraway places. Tingles washed over his upper body. And then Damian grabbed little Oz-Man by the jaw and quickly twisted his neck in both directions. The crunching and popping noises echoed throughout the barbershop and managed to get a few stares from the customers. Oswald shook his jowls at the one second pain, but immediately relaxed again. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a massage and an adjustment.”

A smile etched on Damian’s pale face. “You should get them more often. It’s not unheard of for customers to come in here just for the massage.”

“Really?” Damian nodded. It took every ounce of strength in Oz-Man’s body (and assistance from Damian) to help himself down. He thought this could be a new treatment option for his mental illnesses, even if it only provided temporary relief. Maybe if he did it long enough…

He snapped back to reality when Callie ran his bill up for him. “That’ll be twenty dollars even.” Oswald pulled his wallet out and gave his barber and massage therapist an extra fifteen, but Callie waved the overpayment away. “We don’t accept tips here. We’re unionized, so we get paid well.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding. Just the twenty dollars will do. Plus, you’re going to need that extra fifteen dollars for Jessica Bradley’s roses.”

Oswald’s eyes widened. She knew about that? His name was public knowledge and she didn’t let on the entire time? Was he really a big celebrity? Or a social pariah? What the hell was going on?

“Have a nice day!” said Callie as she and Damian waved at him with smiles on their faces. Oswald left the twenty dollar bill on the counter and hightailed it out of there.

Massage

(Spoken in a whisper to gentle bass and electric guitar music.)


VERSE 1
Dancing fingers across my spine
Give me the chills every time
Squeezing the pain out of my neck
Squeezing my shoulders, you are the best
Gentle scrapes across my scalp
Shocks of pleasure will make me melt
Relaxing my muscles into true nirvana
My head is swimming like a puff of marijuana


VERSE 2
Peace and love are the ways of New Age
To ease the pain brought on by rage
To put the past behind and turn a new page
To know the wisdom of a heavenly sage
The simple act of a therapeutic touch
Will mean the world and then so much
Tingling waves of loving pleasure
Take away my moments of pressure


VERSE 3
There’s no need to fear such a gentle gesture
Just reach out with your aching sensors
Physical contact has never been so clean
Releasing serotonin and yummy dopamine
Lie on a table with your body face down
Sit in a chair where paradise is found
The harps and pianos will give you peace
The squeezes and rubs will put you at ease


VERSE 4
When the time comes to rest your head
Do so in the softest and fluffiest of beds
Dream about worlds of great imagination
While the radio’s tuned to the New Age station
Wake up in the morning feeling beautiful
A cup of warm coffee would be suitable
Make another trip to the therapy lodge
Give into the pleasure of a back massage

The Crying Clown with Back Pain

There are times when you can never fully decipher what a dream means and then there are times when they’re painfully obvious. One night, I had a dream that was the latter of those two extremes. Before going to bed, I had a tremendous pain in my lower back. It was so bad that the next day I had to call in sick to my weekly volunteer job at the Kitsap Historical Society. Somehow my subconscious took all this pain as a cue to create of the most depressing dreams I’ve ever had. I dreamed I was watching a cartoon where a clown was riding around in a small car bumping into police cars. He’s happy and fine one minute, but with no real transition into the next moment, he’s suddenly crying because his back hurts. This isn’t just any kind of crying. It’s not the kind of crying that a child does when he hits his head. It’s not even a minor euphemism for complaining. This was an actual tearjerker of a scene. There were tears raining down his face all because he suddenly had back problems that prevented him from taking a shower. The clown is a symbol of happiness and joy (despite what you see in “The Brave Little Toaster” and “It“). To see a prominent symbol of laughter crying in a depressive state over having dull back pain is the ultimate slap in the face to someone in the real world who actually has back pain. When I woke up, after I made the call to the museum that I was taking the day off, I went downstairs to have a heat wrap pasted to my lower back. Ever since then, my pain became a non-issue. I might have to go to the chiropractor, but I like going there anyways, so it’s not a big deal. Knowing that a positive outcome was on the horizon, why exactly did my subconscious need to send me a clinically depressed clown? It’s not like the clown had a malignant tumor in his back, nor did he have any slash marks. It’s just minor back pain and he’s crying like his grandma just died. If it’s bothering him that bad, he should shell out some dough for a massage or a chiropractic adjustment. Minor back pain doesn’t necessarily constitute high drama. But in my imagination, it just might. If I make a story out of this, it will have to be done with a clear head and intensive planning. I can make this work. In fact, I can make it work or my name isn’t Garrison Kelly. Actually, Kelly isn’t my last name, it’s a pseudonym. The Garrison part of my penname is right, so maybe I can split the difference 50/50 when it comes to my success with a story about a sad clown with back pain.

　

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Ever heard of Obama Care? Well, this is We Don’t Care.”

-Marty Deeks from “NCIS: Los Angeles”-