Fantasies and Realities
The clumps of dirt wrapped in leaves have been thrown; eyes have been washed out with tears and water. Hands washed with soap for delicate hands... all it seems is good. Peanut butter and jelly has been served in the style of white bread, no crust. Yes, all, it seems, is good, the wonderful smell of life. Oatmeal cookies bake in the oven smell of cinnamon in the noontime air. A hustle and bustle of people coming and going from room to room, checking on the daring, yet still a little mad, children. Yes, today is beautiful, no doubt about it, yet he is unhappy.
Daniel Arber sits alone reading a book of some questionable quality. It is a good day, he notes, reading, or pretends to as the case may yet be. He has just noticed the radio had peel playing for some time; a song had come on the radio, a song he would rather not hear. It seems silly to most, but it makes him think. Perhaps it was a girl, yes that would do it one of those kinds of things. One sided, yet enough to keep one up at night wondering... did She think about him at all? The button has now been smashed to the "perpetually off" position by Daniel's angry fist. A Fantasy begins to grow in his mind. Electrical pulses zooming from one nerve to the next, pictures flashing this way and that.
There he is standing in front of Her, his sweet Cecilia Ann. She cited some petty misdeeds, none of it mattered to him... Then he snapped back to reality. A young child, a boy, had entered the room. A pillow was soon to be found flying across the room at the young lad. The pillow never hit the boy, for he was long gone and out of the room well before the fluffy object came crashing into some empty bottle. "Good riddance," he says, it allows him to go back to the Fantasy.
Ah, the Fantasy, he's had several, but two he has most often. One features a fancy room the both of them stand in, they rush at each other, madly in love and the proverbial "one thing" obviously leads to "another." The other is where she comes sweeping in to confess her absolute love to him and he, so much in love with everything she is, takes her into his arms... That one is his favorite. They tell him to just spit it out, to say everything in a moment’s time. They however, don't know what they're talking about, how can anyone know? The last Fantasy hits like a ton of bricks.
A large swing band proceeds to play, fifteen instruments playing in tune. All are dressed in frilly, glittery, baby blue zoot suits. The conductor holds a large rubber chicken, waving it back and forth, up and down. Finally, the vocals come in, a young southern man missing several of his front teeth, creating a high pitched whistle on each 'S' word. All totaled the event was rather disastrous. Follow the bouncing ball:
we all know how y'er feelin'
we all been thar ah reelin'
whinin' an' ah mopin'
an' the world is just a slopin'
and y'er lookin' like ah dope
cause you ain' got no hope.
As the lyrics began to start again the conductor took his rubber chicken and bashed the poor young southern boy over the head. Daniel removed himself from the inane fantasy, he returned to his book quietly saying, "They just don't understand."
Daniel Arber sits alone reading a book of some questionable quality. It is a good day, he notes, reading, or pretends to as the case may yet be. He has just noticed the radio had peel playing for some time; a song had come on the radio, a song he would rather not hear. It seems silly to most, but it makes him think. Perhaps it was a girl, yes that would do it one of those kinds of things. One sided, yet enough to keep one up at night wondering... did She think about him at all? The button has now been smashed to the "perpetually off" position by Daniel's angry fist. A Fantasy begins to grow in his mind. Electrical pulses zooming from one nerve to the next, pictures flashing this way and that.
There he is standing in front of Her, his sweet Cecilia Ann. She cited some petty misdeeds, none of it mattered to him... Then he snapped back to reality. A young child, a boy, had entered the room. A pillow was soon to be found flying across the room at the young lad. The pillow never hit the boy, for he was long gone and out of the room well before the fluffy object came crashing into some empty bottle. "Good riddance," he says, it allows him to go back to the Fantasy.
Ah, the Fantasy, he's had several, but two he has most often. One features a fancy room the both of them stand in, they rush at each other, madly in love and the proverbial "one thing" obviously leads to "another." The other is where she comes sweeping in to confess her absolute love to him and he, so much in love with everything she is, takes her into his arms... That one is his favorite. They tell him to just spit it out, to say everything in a moment’s time. They however, don't know what they're talking about, how can anyone know? The last Fantasy hits like a ton of bricks.
A large swing band proceeds to play, fifteen instruments playing in tune. All are dressed in frilly, glittery, baby blue zoot suits. The conductor holds a large rubber chicken, waving it back and forth, up and down. Finally, the vocals come in, a young southern man missing several of his front teeth, creating a high pitched whistle on each 'S' word. All totaled the event was rather disastrous. Follow the bouncing ball:
we all know how y'er feelin'
we all been thar ah reelin'
whinin' an' ah mopin'
an' the world is just a slopin'
and y'er lookin' like ah dope
cause you ain' got no hope.
As the lyrics began to start again the conductor took his rubber chicken and bashed the poor young southern boy over the head. Daniel removed himself from the inane fantasy, he returned to his book quietly saying, "They just don't understand."