Words
“Here lies the essence of FavoriteBean, whose superpower was ultimate invisibility. How’s that for an introduction?” He asked.
I poked my head around the corner. I tried not to panic, but keeping calm is not in my skill set.
“I’m not dead, you know! I’m just in the next room working, I assure you,” I said. He didn’t look up. The child standing next to him shook her head.
“That’s mean. She’s not dead. Here’s a better introduction,” the child said. “Once upon a time, there was a cat. I mean, there was a girl, we’ll call her Mommy. She played piano, sang, and liked to read to me at bedtime. Who am I, you ask? Well, I’m glad you asked. I am-“
“Best save that for your own introduction,” he said. He sighed. “Fine, have it your way. Here’s a better introduction. Are you ready?”
“Okay,” the girl said with a slight hesitation in her voice.
“It was a warm evening in September when I first laid eyes on her. She came into the room, dressed in black, holding a wine glass. We were at my friend’s house, and I had just arrived in town an hour before, exhausted from driving for twelve hours.”
“And then what happened?” the girl asked.
“Her pants split down the seam, so they had-“
I burst into the room.
“Hey! Stop that! This is not the time to share such stories. Write your own introduction and let me get back to work! Jeez!” I threw my hands up, exasperated.
“I already wrote my introduction,” he said, “I was just trying to help you out.”
“Oh? What does it say?” I asked with a smirk. Knowing him, it was something completely outlandish.
“Here,” he said, handing me his tablet.
I began to read out loud.
“’About me: I died. Then I got better.’ Of course you did,” I shook my head. “That’s not going to fly, and you know it!”
“So, what happened to your pants?” she asked.
“I already told you the last time he shared this story. My friend gave me her shorts, and to this very day, they are awaiting repair. That was twenty years ago. Oy vey.”
“Mommy!” she said.
“If you have ideas for your introduction, please work on them, okay?” I nodded my head to her. She went to her room, waving, ‘goodbye,’ as she went.
Hours later, after I’d wrapped up the tasks of the day, it dawned on me that I had not typed a word for my introduction. I sat down at my desk, turned on my monitor, and pulled up a blank document.
‘Hi,’ I began to type, ‘I’ve been down this road before, but it’s always easier to introduce others. I’m currently working on a book or two in my field, I’m serving as an officer on two boards, and I can’t come to your social engagement because I have a rehearsal.’
I hit the backspace button until my little blurb disappeared. No one cares about my work life, I’m sure. I needed to try again.
‘My name,’ my fingers touched the keys, ‘is inconsequential. I have three cats, and a tortoise. I live with two humans, and I have crippling anxiety. Note to self: get another cat.’
I sighed before deleting this clump of words. I thought of his introduction. “I died. Then I got better.” Truthfully, our bodies are reborn every seven years on a cellular level. He wasn’t wrong. It’s just-
“I’m not dead yet!” I muttered.
Snores from the next room echoed in reply. I typed with one last burst of energy, forcing cacophonous rhythm into coherent sentences.
‘My name is FavoriteBean, some say music is my superpower. Rather I believe that it’s the fact that despite all odds, I’m still alive. I have persevered, sometimes out of spite, and I feel I probably did it by the seat of my pants. But I’m here. Let’s play a good game, and make publishable memories, shall we?’
I poked my head around the corner. I tried not to panic, but keeping calm is not in my skill set.
“I’m not dead, you know! I’m just in the next room working, I assure you,” I said. He didn’t look up. The child standing next to him shook her head.
“That’s mean. She’s not dead. Here’s a better introduction,” the child said. “Once upon a time, there was a cat. I mean, there was a girl, we’ll call her Mommy. She played piano, sang, and liked to read to me at bedtime. Who am I, you ask? Well, I’m glad you asked. I am-“
“Best save that for your own introduction,” he said. He sighed. “Fine, have it your way. Here’s a better introduction. Are you ready?”
“Okay,” the girl said with a slight hesitation in her voice.
“It was a warm evening in September when I first laid eyes on her. She came into the room, dressed in black, holding a wine glass. We were at my friend’s house, and I had just arrived in town an hour before, exhausted from driving for twelve hours.”
“And then what happened?” the girl asked.
“Her pants split down the seam, so they had-“
I burst into the room.
“Hey! Stop that! This is not the time to share such stories. Write your own introduction and let me get back to work! Jeez!” I threw my hands up, exasperated.
“I already wrote my introduction,” he said, “I was just trying to help you out.”
“Oh? What does it say?” I asked with a smirk. Knowing him, it was something completely outlandish.
“Here,” he said, handing me his tablet.
I began to read out loud.
“’About me: I died. Then I got better.’ Of course you did,” I shook my head. “That’s not going to fly, and you know it!”
“So, what happened to your pants?” she asked.
“I already told you the last time he shared this story. My friend gave me her shorts, and to this very day, they are awaiting repair. That was twenty years ago. Oy vey.”
“Mommy!” she said.
“If you have ideas for your introduction, please work on them, okay?” I nodded my head to her. She went to her room, waving, ‘goodbye,’ as she went.
Hours later, after I’d wrapped up the tasks of the day, it dawned on me that I had not typed a word for my introduction. I sat down at my desk, turned on my monitor, and pulled up a blank document.
‘Hi,’ I began to type, ‘I’ve been down this road before, but it’s always easier to introduce others. I’m currently working on a book or two in my field, I’m serving as an officer on two boards, and I can’t come to your social engagement because I have a rehearsal.’
I hit the backspace button until my little blurb disappeared. No one cares about my work life, I’m sure. I needed to try again.
‘My name,’ my fingers touched the keys, ‘is inconsequential. I have three cats, and a tortoise. I live with two humans, and I have crippling anxiety. Note to self: get another cat.’
I sighed before deleting this clump of words. I thought of his introduction. “I died. Then I got better.” Truthfully, our bodies are reborn every seven years on a cellular level. He wasn’t wrong. It’s just-
“I’m not dead yet!” I muttered.
Snores from the next room echoed in reply. I typed with one last burst of energy, forcing cacophonous rhythm into coherent sentences.
‘My name is FavoriteBean, some say music is my superpower. Rather I believe that it’s the fact that despite all odds, I’m still alive. I have persevered, sometimes out of spite, and I feel I probably did it by the seat of my pants. But I’m here. Let’s play a good game, and make publishable memories, shall we?’