yes, its about you.
"As red numbers pass"
9:02pm. Jared’s finger snaps up so it’s pointing at the clock radio on the kitchen table next to him. Unaided by the rest of his hand, his index finger seemed to crawl across the table and trace the nine, the zero and the…three. 9:03pm. Sitting up straight like he just got caught jerking off, he repositions himself to be within reaching distance of the telephone on the wall. As he made sure his hand could reach the phone, something bumped up against the kitchen wall. The barrel of the hunting rifle he cradled in his lap left a black soot stain against the hospital white kitchen walls. He picked the gun off of his lap and laid it on the table, barrel pointed at his chest but laying flat with the trigger on the opposing end. With a sigh, he put his head down toward the barrel but looking at the television across the room. Some crime drama droned on in the background as Jared thought about the events that led him to this compromising position of starring at CSI: Miami out of one eye and down the barrel of a Remington with the other. 9:08pm.
It was Thursday; his Saturday. While the rest of the world slept on Wednesday, he was groping through the plethora of possibilities that tomorrow could hold. Shortly after thinking that, he head a faint but distinct “Bing!’ could be heard over the TV Jared was staring at. He got up, tripped over the path of clothing leading from the couch to the hamper, and over to his computer where there was a blinking box on the screen. Jared blinked and was taken aback for a moment since he expected to be messaged by Jesus Christ himself before this person would get around to it. In utter shock, he sat down while never losing eye contact with the screen.
Tabitha was one of those girls that would accept the world, but couldn’t give it. Jared knew that him and Tab were friends, but rarely saw one another due to their lives being the antithesis of one another. Jared’s life consisted with many points of pause or reflection while Tabitha’s didn’t even stop to take a breath. However her life would stop to take a pill, or 10, or 20. Her father passed away about a year or so earlier and has been dealing with it the only way she could muster up how; bury her emotions with chemicals and ironically enough…Tabs. Her and Jared became fast friends after they learned their fathers both died in the same horrific yet sickly hilarious fashions; they were both in the wrong place at the wrong time during the 17th and 18th annual Lawn Jart Championships. Jared’s father took it in the stomach while lying down on a bench while Tab’s father took it in the hand, and then the eye, and then the frontal lobe of his brain. It was one of those ‘instead of catching the baseball, I’ll block it’ reactionary moves. Bad move, daddy-o.
“What’re you doing on Thursday night J?” asked Tabitha in her bright green backed by teal font.
“Probably nothing, why do ya ask?”
“I wanted to know if we could get some coffee, catch up, and the like. You interested?”
After reading that, Jared had a mental brake test as his thoughts came to a squealing halt. Plans with Tabitha happen with the same frequency as a murderer serving his full sentence. You wish they would serve the full sentence, but as my mother always said “Wish into one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first”. Jared remembered many occasions where we would make plans with Tab and wait there for her at malls, sporting events, and stores. He saw movies by alone, swayed and thought about life while standing at concerts by himself, and ordered the personal pizza way too many times to trust these plans completely. Tab knew why he was so devoted to hanging out with her; he actually gave a damn about her and she couldn’t quite figure out how to handle it. The first instinct seemed to work the best; ignore him. Make the plans to appease that moment in time and deal with the afterbirth of your new problem child later.
“Tabitha…You’ll see me this time right? Not just leave me hanging paying for a meal for one again?”
“I promise I’ll call you on Thursday, ok?”
Tab…if you don’t I’ll shoot myself. You know that, right?”
“Ha-ha, what would I do without your sense of humor in my life? I’ll call you, take care!”
“I’m being serious, Tab. I hope you call me because of you don’t, I wont be seeing the light of day on Friday.”
“LOL, thank you. I needed a laugh after the day I’ve had. I’ll call you by 10 tomorrow. See ya.”
“And what if you don’t call by 10?”
“The only reason I wouldn’t call is if I’m a corpse someplace, and by the sounds of it you will be if I don’t call right?”
“You got it.”
“Ha-ha, I love your jokes. They are so sick yet so funny, see ya!”
And with that, she was gone. Jared hadn’t been more serious in his life. This was about as much a joke as a penguin is a breed of dog.
9:25pm. Jared stared at the clock and slammed his eyes shut so he could see 9:25pm on the back of his eyelids. When he opened them again, 9:28pm was there. He began to wonder why these clocks had red letters as opposed to any other color and then remembered he knew why. These clocks were meant to be seen from very far away, and up until recently scientists thought that red was the most sensitive color to the eye meaning that we could see it the easiest. That turned out to be false and that green was the easiest for the human eye to pick up. That’s the reason why all night vision is green. While thinking all that to himself, he noticed it was 9:33pm and he’s still waiting by this phone waiting for the phone call that won’t come. It would be like Anne Frank opening the door of that house they were holed up in looking for Superman, Batman, Captain America and that orange and green tight wearing pillow biter to come and rescue their family from Nazi oppression. 9:35pm. 9:37pm.
When 9:45pm hit, Jared had left a puddle of drool on the kitchen table where his face had been laid flat for going on 10 minutes. It seeped over to the barrel of his rifle making a strange bubble-looking shadow beneath it. As Jared just starred at the phone wishing, hoping, pleading for it to ring, it fell when his foot got tangle around the cord absent mindedly. He slammed, no he spiked the phone down onto the receiver like it was the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl so in case she tried to call at that exact moment, he would get the call. He glanced at the red numbers peering back at him. 9:56pm; they were almost out of time. She’ll have all the time in the world while his will be in little bite-sized chunks spread throughout the kitchen like some weird biological Johnny Appleseed.
9:58pm. *riiiiiiiing!*, *riiiiiiiiiing*!
Jared just sat there elated and overjoyed that she finally called. The auditions and rehearsals proved to work well as he ripped that phone off the receiver and said “Tabitha?” like he was getting paid to do it.
“George?” a low guttural voice said.
“Who is this?” Jared said.
“Hey, is George ‘dere? Its fricken’ Justin with his damn CD’s. Is he dere or not?”
“You’ve got the wrong number, Pal. But fuck, do you have great timing.”
He hung up the phone and looked down at the rifle and began to tear up. The times when he would just watch Tabitha without her knowing it went through his head like fragments of a movie all coming together to make a greatest hits video. In a way, he wouldn’t be killing himself, but the memory of this person he invented in his head which was far from what actually sees and walks and talks to him. He took a sip of water and looked for his dog.
“Kenny!” Jared yelled.
With an awkward swagger, a black dog came from beneath the table in the living room and over to Jared’s side. He patted him on the head and whispered “she’ll take good care of you” then commanded him to go away. He did, back to the table in the living room.
With the rifle down on the floor pointing up into his mouth, he placed one toe on the trigger. Reaching over to a bracelet she had given him one day, he grabbed it and kicked as hard as he could.
Blackness came over everything, and he was dead; just a piece of meat lying in several chunks on the linoleum. Kenny would have food for several days until someone found him.
Days go by. Now it seems as if Jared’s phone can’t stop ringing and his answering machine is almost full with messages of hate and disgust from Tabitha.
“Ignoring me isn’t going to prove anything, you asshole! Just pick up!” and “Listen, I’m sorry, now pick up the phone!” littered the machine’s tape. The last message on the tape was “That’s it I’m coming over there to give you a big kiss!”
With Jared’s body rotting on the ground, a knock on the door seemed to make him shudder a little. Kenny started to bark, but recognized Tabitha’s voice and stopped. He let her in and she shouted “Oh god, you need to clean this place up you slob!” When she went to get some air freshener out of the kitchen cabinet, she saw a slab of meat which had been picked at and maimed, but it was in the shape of a person. In the one bloated hand, was a teal and green beaded bracelet she has made and gave to Jared. She started to walk back, and out of the room when she remembered the comment he made about killing himself and all at once came aware that she received the world, but ended up taking his. She fell to her knees and started to ball her eyes out half expecting Jared to sit up and say “Just kidding” but the only thing moving on him were the fingers that Kenny decided looked tasty. After shooing the dog away, she took the bracelet and put it on her wrist. She touched it, almost remembering the sweet guy she gave it to and what he had become lying at her feet. She went into the garage and mustered up Kenny’s leash. She clasped the lock around his collar and led him out the front door.
9:02pm. Jared’s finger snaps up so it’s pointing at the clock radio on the kitchen table next to him. Unaided by the rest of his hand, his index finger seemed to crawl across the table and trace the nine, the zero and the…three. 9:03pm. Sitting up straight like he just got caught jerking off, he repositions himself to be within reaching distance of the telephone on the wall. As he made sure his hand could reach the phone, something bumped up against the kitchen wall. The barrel of the hunting rifle he cradled in his lap left a black soot stain against the hospital white kitchen walls. He picked the gun off of his lap and laid it on the table, barrel pointed at his chest but laying flat with the trigger on the opposing end. With a sigh, he put his head down toward the barrel but looking at the television across the room. Some crime drama droned on in the background as Jared thought about the events that led him to this compromising position of starring at CSI: Miami out of one eye and down the barrel of a Remington with the other. 9:08pm.
It was Thursday; his Saturday. While the rest of the world slept on Wednesday, he was groping through the plethora of possibilities that tomorrow could hold. Shortly after thinking that, he head a faint but distinct “Bing!’ could be heard over the TV Jared was staring at. He got up, tripped over the path of clothing leading from the couch to the hamper, and over to his computer where there was a blinking box on the screen. Jared blinked and was taken aback for a moment since he expected to be messaged by Jesus Christ himself before this person would get around to it. In utter shock, he sat down while never losing eye contact with the screen.
Tabitha was one of those girls that would accept the world, but couldn’t give it. Jared knew that him and Tab were friends, but rarely saw one another due to their lives being the antithesis of one another. Jared’s life consisted with many points of pause or reflection while Tabitha’s didn’t even stop to take a breath. However her life would stop to take a pill, or 10, or 20. Her father passed away about a year or so earlier and has been dealing with it the only way she could muster up how; bury her emotions with chemicals and ironically enough…Tabs. Her and Jared became fast friends after they learned their fathers both died in the same horrific yet sickly hilarious fashions; they were both in the wrong place at the wrong time during the 17th and 18th annual Lawn Jart Championships. Jared’s father took it in the stomach while lying down on a bench while Tab’s father took it in the hand, and then the eye, and then the frontal lobe of his brain. It was one of those ‘instead of catching the baseball, I’ll block it’ reactionary moves. Bad move, daddy-o.
“What’re you doing on Thursday night J?” asked Tabitha in her bright green backed by teal font.
“Probably nothing, why do ya ask?”
“I wanted to know if we could get some coffee, catch up, and the like. You interested?”
After reading that, Jared had a mental brake test as his thoughts came to a squealing halt. Plans with Tabitha happen with the same frequency as a murderer serving his full sentence. You wish they would serve the full sentence, but as my mother always said “Wish into one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up first”. Jared remembered many occasions where we would make plans with Tab and wait there for her at malls, sporting events, and stores. He saw movies by alone, swayed and thought about life while standing at concerts by himself, and ordered the personal pizza way too many times to trust these plans completely. Tab knew why he was so devoted to hanging out with her; he actually gave a damn about her and she couldn’t quite figure out how to handle it. The first instinct seemed to work the best; ignore him. Make the plans to appease that moment in time and deal with the afterbirth of your new problem child later.
“Tabitha…You’ll see me this time right? Not just leave me hanging paying for a meal for one again?”
“I promise I’ll call you on Thursday, ok?”
Tab…if you don’t I’ll shoot myself. You know that, right?”
“Ha-ha, what would I do without your sense of humor in my life? I’ll call you, take care!”
“I’m being serious, Tab. I hope you call me because of you don’t, I wont be seeing the light of day on Friday.”
“LOL, thank you. I needed a laugh after the day I’ve had. I’ll call you by 10 tomorrow. See ya.”
“And what if you don’t call by 10?”
“The only reason I wouldn’t call is if I’m a corpse someplace, and by the sounds of it you will be if I don’t call right?”
“You got it.”
“Ha-ha, I love your jokes. They are so sick yet so funny, see ya!”
And with that, she was gone. Jared hadn’t been more serious in his life. This was about as much a joke as a penguin is a breed of dog.
9:25pm. Jared stared at the clock and slammed his eyes shut so he could see 9:25pm on the back of his eyelids. When he opened them again, 9:28pm was there. He began to wonder why these clocks had red letters as opposed to any other color and then remembered he knew why. These clocks were meant to be seen from very far away, and up until recently scientists thought that red was the most sensitive color to the eye meaning that we could see it the easiest. That turned out to be false and that green was the easiest for the human eye to pick up. That’s the reason why all night vision is green. While thinking all that to himself, he noticed it was 9:33pm and he’s still waiting by this phone waiting for the phone call that won’t come. It would be like Anne Frank opening the door of that house they were holed up in looking for Superman, Batman, Captain America and that orange and green tight wearing pillow biter to come and rescue their family from Nazi oppression. 9:35pm. 9:37pm.
When 9:45pm hit, Jared had left a puddle of drool on the kitchen table where his face had been laid flat for going on 10 minutes. It seeped over to the barrel of his rifle making a strange bubble-looking shadow beneath it. As Jared just starred at the phone wishing, hoping, pleading for it to ring, it fell when his foot got tangle around the cord absent mindedly. He slammed, no he spiked the phone down onto the receiver like it was the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl so in case she tried to call at that exact moment, he would get the call. He glanced at the red numbers peering back at him. 9:56pm; they were almost out of time. She’ll have all the time in the world while his will be in little bite-sized chunks spread throughout the kitchen like some weird biological Johnny Appleseed.
9:58pm. *riiiiiiiing!*, *riiiiiiiiiing*!
Jared just sat there elated and overjoyed that she finally called. The auditions and rehearsals proved to work well as he ripped that phone off the receiver and said “Tabitha?” like he was getting paid to do it.
“George?” a low guttural voice said.
“Who is this?” Jared said.
“Hey, is George ‘dere? Its fricken’ Justin with his damn CD’s. Is he dere or not?”
“You’ve got the wrong number, Pal. But fuck, do you have great timing.”
He hung up the phone and looked down at the rifle and began to tear up. The times when he would just watch Tabitha without her knowing it went through his head like fragments of a movie all coming together to make a greatest hits video. In a way, he wouldn’t be killing himself, but the memory of this person he invented in his head which was far from what actually sees and walks and talks to him. He took a sip of water and looked for his dog.
“Kenny!” Jared yelled.
With an awkward swagger, a black dog came from beneath the table in the living room and over to Jared’s side. He patted him on the head and whispered “she’ll take good care of you” then commanded him to go away. He did, back to the table in the living room.
With the rifle down on the floor pointing up into his mouth, he placed one toe on the trigger. Reaching over to a bracelet she had given him one day, he grabbed it and kicked as hard as he could.
Blackness came over everything, and he was dead; just a piece of meat lying in several chunks on the linoleum. Kenny would have food for several days until someone found him.
Days go by. Now it seems as if Jared’s phone can’t stop ringing and his answering machine is almost full with messages of hate and disgust from Tabitha.
“Ignoring me isn’t going to prove anything, you asshole! Just pick up!” and “Listen, I’m sorry, now pick up the phone!” littered the machine’s tape. The last message on the tape was “That’s it I’m coming over there to give you a big kiss!”
With Jared’s body rotting on the ground, a knock on the door seemed to make him shudder a little. Kenny started to bark, but recognized Tabitha’s voice and stopped. He let her in and she shouted “Oh god, you need to clean this place up you slob!” When she went to get some air freshener out of the kitchen cabinet, she saw a slab of meat which had been picked at and maimed, but it was in the shape of a person. In the one bloated hand, was a teal and green beaded bracelet she has made and gave to Jared. She started to walk back, and out of the room when she remembered the comment he made about killing himself and all at once came aware that she received the world, but ended up taking his. She fell to her knees and started to ball her eyes out half expecting Jared to sit up and say “Just kidding” but the only thing moving on him were the fingers that Kenny decided looked tasty. After shooing the dog away, she took the bracelet and put it on her wrist. She touched it, almost remembering the sweet guy she gave it to and what he had become lying at her feet. She went into the garage and mustered up Kenny’s leash. She clasped the lock around his collar and led him out the front door.