bitten by the writing bug
Well, somehow I got the urge to write just now. Go fig, huh?
Oh, the joy of near-sleep. That restful place between the endless toil of the real world and the eternal bliss of slumber. It was almost...
"Doug! Doug!" Doug heard his name being called, but he couldn’t seem to place the voice. It would have sounded like the voice of an angel, but Doug didn’t think angels would use the kind of language he could remember this voice using.
"Look, are you just going to sit there, or are you going to pay attention to me? I don’t have all day, you know!" Ah... now he remembered, it was Justine. She seemed awfully mad, but, then again, she wasn’t the sort of person who suffered fools gladly, so her anger was understandable.
"I'm sorry, Doug isn't in right now, but if you'd like to leave a message, please do so after the beep, and he'll get back to you as soon as he cares." Doug sighed. "Or maybe not, who knows?" She’d just have to suffer him un-gladly, then.
"Are you out of your--"
"BEEEEEEP."
"--ing mind?" she finished. "I've been talking to you for, like, ten minutes now, and you've just sat there like a lump and nodded your head anytime I paused! You’ve agreed with me that eggplant is God's gift to women, that the Confederates should have won the Civil War, and that I'd look good wearing nothing but a boa constrictor!"
"I don’t disagree with the last one..."
"Get your mind off that, Doug, this isn't the time! We’ve only got 2 more minutes 'til the period ends, and we still have to come up with one more example of dei... deui... god-related mortality." She threw her hands up in frustration. "I could think of four, but we need at least five."
"Actually," Doug drawled, "we need only three. Mr. Larson said he'd give extra credit to anyone who could think of five. The key word there being 'extra.' I just pity the saps who can only think of four."
Justine's eyes began to glow. "We... will be those saps... if we can't think of a fifth example. Think. Of. One."
"Hey, I'm not the only one in this group. Two of those examples you have written down there are mine." He pointed to an entry on the paper in Justine's hand. "Plus, you wouldn’t have thought of this one if I hadn’t told that joke about the fisherman."
"And I thank you for it, Doug. Whenever I feel the sting of creative emptiness, I'll come to you, and you can tell me a joke about a fisherman."
"So I'll pick you up at seven, then," Doug deadpanned. "Whoops, there's the bell." The teacher began to wander the room, collecting the worksheets.
"Maybe I could just make something up... What would sound believable?" Justine absentmindedly twirled a lock of hair as she spoke.
"Journey to the West."
"Hm? Ow. What'd you say?" Justine began untangling her hand from her hair.
"Journey to the West. Gods are threatened with death left and right in that story. No one would threaten to kill a god if it wasn’t mortal, right?" Doug shook his head. "That would just be silly."
"Are you kidding me, Doug? Are you--How long?"
"How long what?" Doug asked, innocently.
"How long were you holding out on me? How long did you know and not tell me? How--Never mind." She sighed. "Are you sure?"
"No, I just work here," Doug threw back. He slung his bag over one shoulder and headed for the door. "But, seriously, I think you'll be happy with the results if you write that one down." And with those words, he was gone.
Justine thought for a second and scribbled "J to the W" next to the fifth blank space on her paper. She threw the paper at Mr. Larson, then stormed out of the room, having already thought of fifteen different ways to make Doug’s life miserable.
................
He called it "running the gauntlet." The fantastic number of people in the hallways between periods at Watterson High made it impossible for Doug to get from one place to another in anything that could claim itself to be a straight line. Also, in seeming defiance of logic, the closer one’s destination, the longer it took to get there. In that spirit, Doug completely bypassed his primary locker down the hallway and went instead to his second locker up on the third floor.
Doug could always tell which lockers were his, because they were the only ones not to have combination locks on them. He could never remember combinations, so he would take off the school-provided lock and replace it with an ordinary padlock. He fished the key marked "Locker 2" out of his bag and opened his locker door. It was empty.
"Well, it's good to see no one's put anything into my locker," he said loudly. "I'd hate to think what would happen if someone did."
"I’d hate to think of that, too," his locker replied.
"Jimmy, I saw you duck into the bathroom as I was coming down the hallway. Come on out and get whatever you’ve got in my locker out of my locker."
"Right away, Captain America!" Doug heard a click come from his locker, then a hum, then he turned and saw Jimmy coming out of the bathroom. Wait, was he really..?
"Nah, couldn't be," Doug said to no one in particular.
"Couldn't be what?" Jimmy asked, tossing a cordless microphone from hand to hand.
"Did you just come out of the girls' room?"
"What? No." Jimmy paused and looked over his shoulder. "Wait, go right, stay all night, go left..."
"Go left, get the hell out of the girls' room," Doug finished. "It's OK, though. I don't think any more than half of the student body saw you, and I think it was the half that doesn't talk to the other half, so your secret's safe with them."
"This has to be the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me." Jimmy started pounding his head against a locker.
"Really? Think hard now." Jimmy stopped denting the locker and closed his eyes in thought. A smile slowly spread across his face.
"OK, maybe not the most most embarrassing thing."
"See," Doug beamed, "what're friends for?"
"Torturing each other, obviously. Like this." Jimmy pointed at Doug. "You just came from smart-kid English. Justine is in that class." Doug's smile faded.
"I'd suggest you stop talking now, unless you'd like first-hand experience of a wired jaw."
"Been there, done that, got the scar."
"Hmm. Broken thigh?"
"Summer, two years ago."
"Uh, concussion?"
"Remember when I slipped on your driveway last winter?"
"Oh, yeah. Is there any injury you haven’t had?"
"I think brain hemorrhage would be new by me. But I’m not letting you change the subject." Jimmy stuck the microphone in his pocket. "You’ve still got feelings for Justine. She left a void in your life."
"I filled the void she left in my life with breakfast the next day. Stop this crazy talk." Doug slammed his locker shut.
Jimmy opened it again. "I don’t think it's crazy talk at all. I can see it written all over your face."
Fighting the urge to carve the word 'it' into Jimmy’s face with a compass point, Doug replied, "You're insane."
"Am not."
"Are, too! Do you even remember why she broke up with me?" Doug shut his locker again.
Jimmy opened it again. "Well," Jimmy thought for a moment. "She said you didn't communicate well, you held things back, treated everything like a game, didn’t pay attention when she was talking, made smart-alecky comments... Should I go on?"
"No." Doug made an 'x' with his hands. "I think I've had enough. Now, how could I still have feelings for someone who thought that of me?"
"Easy. You’re crazy."
"I thought we'd established that you were the crazy one."
Jimmy considered answering that, but thought better of it. "Fine, fine, I'm the crazy one. You happy?"
"Very." Doug shut his locker yet again.
Jimmy opened it yet again. "Are you going to let me take my speaker out or what?" he asked, exasperated.
"Oh, sorry," Doug said. "Hey, how'd you get it in there so that I couldn’t see it?"
"Uh, a lockpick set and a false back." Jimmy pulled a sheet of metal out of Doug’s locker. "See?"
Doug peered into his locker. Sure enough, there was a small, flat speaker sitting deep inside, with a receiver taped to the back wall above it.
"Why do you do these things?" Doug asked.
"It's all part of the greater good. The way I see it... You'd better go hide."
"What? You lost me." Doug looked at Jimmy, who raised both eyebrows and pointed to behind Doug with his chin.
"Douglas Schultz Nolasco!" An angry female voice assaulted Doug’s ears from down the hallway. Fortunately (and not unexpectedly, given the general student apathy level), no one in the hallway turned to see what the problem was. Not even Doug.
Why did I ever tell her my middle name? Doug thought. "If I keep my back to her, do you think she won't notice me?"
"I think it's too late for that," Jimmy replied.
"The devil calls for me... with a voice that promises misery," Doug recited.
Jimmy gave him a funny look. "That’s ironic, considering what you thought about her voice not 10 minutes ago."
"How did you know--"
"Are you ignoring me again?" This time the voice was quieter, but closer, so the effect was the same on Doug’s ears. He turned around in the hopes that it would be less painful from the front.
"Oh, hello, Justine! I didn't hear you coming. Long time, no see. How are you?" Doug quickly regretted his words.
"Oh, I'm fine. Only, there was this guy in my English class that really ticked me off. You see, he knew something for a long time, and he didn't tell me, even though I specifically asked him if he knew! And he didn’t even pay attention to me when I was talking, and he made a game out of it!" She paused to catch her breath.
Doug seized the opportunity. "I told you that Billy Amend was trouble."
Jimmy jumped in. "I think what Doug meant to say was that you seem to have left your bag in the English room."
"And where’s my bag? Did I leave it in the English room?" Justine refused to acknowledge Jimmy’s presence.
"How am I supposed to know?" Doug asked. Jimmy tapped his shoulder.
"Don’t be so defensive. Besides, it's in your locker." Doug gave him a questioning look. "Look," Jimmy continued, "don’t question it. Just accept it, give Justine her bag, and we’ll talk about it later."
Doug turned back to Justine. "Actually," he explained, "I came back to class to apologize, and I noticed that you’d left your bag, so I took it for you." He reached into his locker and, sure enough, there was her bag. "Here you go," Doug said.
Justine was taken aback. "I... I don't know what to say."
"I guess 'Thank you' would never have occurred to you, huh?" Doug held up one hand. "I apologize, that was harsh."
"I'll say," Justine murmured.
"So I'll assume the thank you was implied and I'll say that you are welcome."
"Well, I don't know what to say to that, so I'll just leave, then. I'll see you in Math." Justine turned and walked away.
"Uh, yeah. See you then," Doug called after her.
"Nice work," Jimmy started, "but--"
"But it’s time for you to explain what just happened." Doug shot at him. "I seriously doubt that there was another false back in my locker."
"Er, not quite. Hey, are you religious?"
"Not very, but you knew that already. I don’t see where you're going."
"Just covering all my bases." The noise of people talking in the hallway stopped abruptly. "Take a look around you."
Doug did look around, and he saw that no one was talking anymore. No one was moving, either. It was because no one was there. That's not right, he thought.
"Buh..." Doug thought desperately of something intelligent to say. Nothing came to mind.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Jimmy acted as though nothing were going on. "It's... a little tough to explain. Let's see... Well, actually, it's not important. I'll just say that I'd like to see you and Justine back together." He shrugged. "It's kind of important, you see... Well, I think it is. I haven’t figured out why; just that it's important. I think it’s important you believe me, too."
"Dah..."
"You OK?" Jimmy waved a hand in front of Doug’s face.
"Potato?" Doug's eyes rolled back.
"Whoa, don't faint on me, dude!" Jimmy steadied Doug. "It's not like it's some great, cosmic destiny or anything, I just want what's best for my friend, you know? You were happy, but you took it for granted and you lost her. I’m giving you a second chance."
"I... don't really... understand..."
"You don't have to." The bell marking the beginning of the period sounded. "You’d better go to Math class now." Jimmy started pushing Doug down the hallway. "Go, go."
Yeah, nothing happened in it. I don't care. Maybe someday I'll write more.
Oh, the joy of near-sleep. That restful place between the endless toil of the real world and the eternal bliss of slumber. It was almost...
"Doug! Doug!" Doug heard his name being called, but he couldn’t seem to place the voice. It would have sounded like the voice of an angel, but Doug didn’t think angels would use the kind of language he could remember this voice using.
"Look, are you just going to sit there, or are you going to pay attention to me? I don’t have all day, you know!" Ah... now he remembered, it was Justine. She seemed awfully mad, but, then again, she wasn’t the sort of person who suffered fools gladly, so her anger was understandable.
"I'm sorry, Doug isn't in right now, but if you'd like to leave a message, please do so after the beep, and he'll get back to you as soon as he cares." Doug sighed. "Or maybe not, who knows?" She’d just have to suffer him un-gladly, then.
"Are you out of your--"
"BEEEEEEP."
"--ing mind?" she finished. "I've been talking to you for, like, ten minutes now, and you've just sat there like a lump and nodded your head anytime I paused! You’ve agreed with me that eggplant is God's gift to women, that the Confederates should have won the Civil War, and that I'd look good wearing nothing but a boa constrictor!"
"I don’t disagree with the last one..."
"Get your mind off that, Doug, this isn't the time! We’ve only got 2 more minutes 'til the period ends, and we still have to come up with one more example of dei... deui... god-related mortality." She threw her hands up in frustration. "I could think of four, but we need at least five."
"Actually," Doug drawled, "we need only three. Mr. Larson said he'd give extra credit to anyone who could think of five. The key word there being 'extra.' I just pity the saps who can only think of four."
Justine's eyes began to glow. "We... will be those saps... if we can't think of a fifth example. Think. Of. One."
"Hey, I'm not the only one in this group. Two of those examples you have written down there are mine." He pointed to an entry on the paper in Justine's hand. "Plus, you wouldn’t have thought of this one if I hadn’t told that joke about the fisherman."
"And I thank you for it, Doug. Whenever I feel the sting of creative emptiness, I'll come to you, and you can tell me a joke about a fisherman."
"So I'll pick you up at seven, then," Doug deadpanned. "Whoops, there's the bell." The teacher began to wander the room, collecting the worksheets.
"Maybe I could just make something up... What would sound believable?" Justine absentmindedly twirled a lock of hair as she spoke.
"Journey to the West."
"Hm? Ow. What'd you say?" Justine began untangling her hand from her hair.
"Journey to the West. Gods are threatened with death left and right in that story. No one would threaten to kill a god if it wasn’t mortal, right?" Doug shook his head. "That would just be silly."
"Are you kidding me, Doug? Are you--How long?"
"How long what?" Doug asked, innocently.
"How long were you holding out on me? How long did you know and not tell me? How--Never mind." She sighed. "Are you sure?"
"No, I just work here," Doug threw back. He slung his bag over one shoulder and headed for the door. "But, seriously, I think you'll be happy with the results if you write that one down." And with those words, he was gone.
Justine thought for a second and scribbled "J to the W" next to the fifth blank space on her paper. She threw the paper at Mr. Larson, then stormed out of the room, having already thought of fifteen different ways to make Doug’s life miserable.
................
He called it "running the gauntlet." The fantastic number of people in the hallways between periods at Watterson High made it impossible for Doug to get from one place to another in anything that could claim itself to be a straight line. Also, in seeming defiance of logic, the closer one’s destination, the longer it took to get there. In that spirit, Doug completely bypassed his primary locker down the hallway and went instead to his second locker up on the third floor.
Doug could always tell which lockers were his, because they were the only ones not to have combination locks on them. He could never remember combinations, so he would take off the school-provided lock and replace it with an ordinary padlock. He fished the key marked "Locker 2" out of his bag and opened his locker door. It was empty.
"Well, it's good to see no one's put anything into my locker," he said loudly. "I'd hate to think what would happen if someone did."
"I’d hate to think of that, too," his locker replied.
"Jimmy, I saw you duck into the bathroom as I was coming down the hallway. Come on out and get whatever you’ve got in my locker out of my locker."
"Right away, Captain America!" Doug heard a click come from his locker, then a hum, then he turned and saw Jimmy coming out of the bathroom. Wait, was he really..?
"Nah, couldn't be," Doug said to no one in particular.
"Couldn't be what?" Jimmy asked, tossing a cordless microphone from hand to hand.
"Did you just come out of the girls' room?"
"What? No." Jimmy paused and looked over his shoulder. "Wait, go right, stay all night, go left..."
"Go left, get the hell out of the girls' room," Doug finished. "It's OK, though. I don't think any more than half of the student body saw you, and I think it was the half that doesn't talk to the other half, so your secret's safe with them."
"This has to be the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me." Jimmy started pounding his head against a locker.
"Really? Think hard now." Jimmy stopped denting the locker and closed his eyes in thought. A smile slowly spread across his face.
"OK, maybe not the most most embarrassing thing."
"See," Doug beamed, "what're friends for?"
"Torturing each other, obviously. Like this." Jimmy pointed at Doug. "You just came from smart-kid English. Justine is in that class." Doug's smile faded.
"I'd suggest you stop talking now, unless you'd like first-hand experience of a wired jaw."
"Been there, done that, got the scar."
"Hmm. Broken thigh?"
"Summer, two years ago."
"Uh, concussion?"
"Remember when I slipped on your driveway last winter?"
"Oh, yeah. Is there any injury you haven’t had?"
"I think brain hemorrhage would be new by me. But I’m not letting you change the subject." Jimmy stuck the microphone in his pocket. "You’ve still got feelings for Justine. She left a void in your life."
"I filled the void she left in my life with breakfast the next day. Stop this crazy talk." Doug slammed his locker shut.
Jimmy opened it again. "I don’t think it's crazy talk at all. I can see it written all over your face."
Fighting the urge to carve the word 'it' into Jimmy’s face with a compass point, Doug replied, "You're insane."
"Am not."
"Are, too! Do you even remember why she broke up with me?" Doug shut his locker again.
Jimmy opened it again. "Well," Jimmy thought for a moment. "She said you didn't communicate well, you held things back, treated everything like a game, didn’t pay attention when she was talking, made smart-alecky comments... Should I go on?"
"No." Doug made an 'x' with his hands. "I think I've had enough. Now, how could I still have feelings for someone who thought that of me?"
"Easy. You’re crazy."
"I thought we'd established that you were the crazy one."
Jimmy considered answering that, but thought better of it. "Fine, fine, I'm the crazy one. You happy?"
"Very." Doug shut his locker yet again.
Jimmy opened it yet again. "Are you going to let me take my speaker out or what?" he asked, exasperated.
"Oh, sorry," Doug said. "Hey, how'd you get it in there so that I couldn’t see it?"
"Uh, a lockpick set and a false back." Jimmy pulled a sheet of metal out of Doug’s locker. "See?"
Doug peered into his locker. Sure enough, there was a small, flat speaker sitting deep inside, with a receiver taped to the back wall above it.
"Why do you do these things?" Doug asked.
"It's all part of the greater good. The way I see it... You'd better go hide."
"What? You lost me." Doug looked at Jimmy, who raised both eyebrows and pointed to behind Doug with his chin.
"Douglas Schultz Nolasco!" An angry female voice assaulted Doug’s ears from down the hallway. Fortunately (and not unexpectedly, given the general student apathy level), no one in the hallway turned to see what the problem was. Not even Doug.
Why did I ever tell her my middle name? Doug thought. "If I keep my back to her, do you think she won't notice me?"
"I think it's too late for that," Jimmy replied.
"The devil calls for me... with a voice that promises misery," Doug recited.
Jimmy gave him a funny look. "That’s ironic, considering what you thought about her voice not 10 minutes ago."
"How did you know--"
"Are you ignoring me again?" This time the voice was quieter, but closer, so the effect was the same on Doug’s ears. He turned around in the hopes that it would be less painful from the front.
"Oh, hello, Justine! I didn't hear you coming. Long time, no see. How are you?" Doug quickly regretted his words.
"Oh, I'm fine. Only, there was this guy in my English class that really ticked me off. You see, he knew something for a long time, and he didn't tell me, even though I specifically asked him if he knew! And he didn’t even pay attention to me when I was talking, and he made a game out of it!" She paused to catch her breath.
Doug seized the opportunity. "I told you that Billy Amend was trouble."
Jimmy jumped in. "I think what Doug meant to say was that you seem to have left your bag in the English room."
"And where’s my bag? Did I leave it in the English room?" Justine refused to acknowledge Jimmy’s presence.
"How am I supposed to know?" Doug asked. Jimmy tapped his shoulder.
"Don’t be so defensive. Besides, it's in your locker." Doug gave him a questioning look. "Look," Jimmy continued, "don’t question it. Just accept it, give Justine her bag, and we’ll talk about it later."
Doug turned back to Justine. "Actually," he explained, "I came back to class to apologize, and I noticed that you’d left your bag, so I took it for you." He reached into his locker and, sure enough, there was her bag. "Here you go," Doug said.
Justine was taken aback. "I... I don't know what to say."
"I guess 'Thank you' would never have occurred to you, huh?" Doug held up one hand. "I apologize, that was harsh."
"I'll say," Justine murmured.
"So I'll assume the thank you was implied and I'll say that you are welcome."
"Well, I don't know what to say to that, so I'll just leave, then. I'll see you in Math." Justine turned and walked away.
"Uh, yeah. See you then," Doug called after her.
"Nice work," Jimmy started, "but--"
"But it’s time for you to explain what just happened." Doug shot at him. "I seriously doubt that there was another false back in my locker."
"Er, not quite. Hey, are you religious?"
"Not very, but you knew that already. I don’t see where you're going."
"Just covering all my bases." The noise of people talking in the hallway stopped abruptly. "Take a look around you."
Doug did look around, and he saw that no one was talking anymore. No one was moving, either. It was because no one was there. That's not right, he thought.
"Buh..." Doug thought desperately of something intelligent to say. Nothing came to mind.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Jimmy acted as though nothing were going on. "It's... a little tough to explain. Let's see... Well, actually, it's not important. I'll just say that I'd like to see you and Justine back together." He shrugged. "It's kind of important, you see... Well, I think it is. I haven’t figured out why; just that it's important. I think it’s important you believe me, too."
"Dah..."
"You OK?" Jimmy waved a hand in front of Doug’s face.
"Potato?" Doug's eyes rolled back.
"Whoa, don't faint on me, dude!" Jimmy steadied Doug. "It's not like it's some great, cosmic destiny or anything, I just want what's best for my friend, you know? You were happy, but you took it for granted and you lost her. I’m giving you a second chance."
"I... don't really... understand..."
"You don't have to." The bell marking the beginning of the period sounded. "You’d better go to Math class now." Jimmy started pushing Doug down the hallway. "Go, go."
Yeah, nothing happened in it. I don't care. Maybe someday I'll write more.