Douglas G.

Douglas died in 1995.  Twenty-six years later, a former elementary school classmate tried searching his name again on the internet.  If you had told Douglas at any point while he was alive that someone in the future would be using a computer to search worldwide records for his name and picture, he may not have believed you.  He would have been fairly certain, however, that his obituary would be written by then.  By then, he was dead for three years longer than he had been alive.

Jessica thought it likely that he wouldn't have even remembered her.  After all, the last time they had seen each other was 5th grade.

Inspiration #14

Every blackout was the worst blackout.  This time, Bill woke while still awake and moving, which was much more disorienting than waking while having been asleep.  It was like he was a passenger in an unwieldy and unlikely ship, listing to port then to starboard, lurching over waves and landing in the troughs, only luck keeping it from capsizing.


From the second to last short story in Feeling Very Strange called "The Lions Are Asleep This Night" by Howard Waldrop: "The white man was drunk again."

Inspiraton #5

My brother was constantly being taken advantage of by other kids.  Not for money or his lunch or test answers, but rather for attention and, I guess, friendship?  Affection?  I can't fathom exactly why any of them did it, but no kid did it in conjunction with another, so it must have been some innate need to have a friend who you never considered a friend.  My brother was that kid little jerks like to make their temporary friend and do questionable things together, like build a pipe bomb.

Inspired by "Light and the Sufferer" by Jonathan Lethern: "My brother showed me the gun."
This was another of my favorites from The Slipstream Anthology.  Really interesting idea that, I think, epitomizes what "slipstream" is as a (possible) genre.  (I said "possible" because it seems as though the genre status is still being debated.  At least, it was still debated in 2006 when this anthology was published!)

How would you react to your best friend telling you she was pregnant?

Holy crap, Amy!  Who's the father?  You're freakin' forty-two years old!  Why would you do this?  How can you even...  I mean...  Okay, I'll ask.  How can you even hope to pay for a kid right now?  Wait!  Where are you even going to put it?

Geez.  No.  Seriously.  You live in a one-room apartment over a garage.  You barely have room for your cats, so how will a baby and all its stuff fit in there?  Hold on a moment...

When did this happen?  I mean, when are you due?  Have they been able to tell you about this baby yet?  Is it...okay?  I know we're not ancient yet, but, still, the odds of genetic disorders goes up.  And since when were you regular enough to even get pregnant?  What are the odds of that?  Alright, back to the genetic thing.  Is the baby okay?  Can they tell?

No, wait.  Go back further than that.  Who's the father?  How did you...  Who did you...  When did you...  Was it...natural?  Did you purchase a...um...donor?  Does the guy know?  Will you tell him?

Yeah, you're right, I think I'm hyperventilating.  I've got to find a paper bag.  Hold on...

Okay.  I'm back.  While I'm breathing here, you tell me.

Uh huh.

You only have how long left?  That'll be this year!  Okay...  Breathing.

Uh huh.

No, I don't remember you telling me.

Uh huh.  Well, I don't check Facebook regularly so I didn't...

Uh huh.

Okay, that's good.  But what about...

Uh huh.  And your parents are alright with that?

Ha!  I'll bet they did!  Was it your mom or your dad who...

Oh, my God.  Well, that's good, I guess.  Okay.  Hey, can you paint your old room purple again?  Ha!

Uh huh.  You're naming it what?

Weren't those your cats' names?

Ha!  You can't do that!  Do your parents know those were your cats' names?  Ha!

Huh.  Well, all right.  It sounds like you have it all planned out.  That's good.  I'm just so shocked.  I thought it would be you and me who never had kids.  Now it's just me, I guess.

No.  He's had a vasectomy.  Unless a miracle occurred between the tubes, it's not happening.

Yeah, well, I guess yours is a miracle.  Congratulations, Amy.  Hey--at least it's not twins!

What?!?

What are good qualities in a friend? Boy/girlfriend?

Amy helped me bury the body.  She was such a good friend.  I miss her terribly.

I guess I should back up a little.

Even though high school students desperately want to fit in and have loads of friends and dress "right" and know all the right pop culture, they each live in a tiny, selfish bubble.  I suppose some don't, but I sure did.  My bubble swirled around me reflecting me back to me and showing me that I was put-upon and I was unique and I was suffering like no one else had in the history of the world.  I didn't notice, or care, that friends of mine, like Amy, were suffering, too.  I was suffering worse.  No one could understand... except, maybe, that strange, elusive creature: a boyfriend.

I wanted, more than anything, a boyfriend.  The desperation began in earnest during 8th grade.  At The 8th Grade Dinner Dance (the first time we all got dressed up and behaved like gentlemen and ladies), I wore a skirt with my shorts hidden underneath, a pair of sneakers, two pairs of socks, and some horrid shirt with a cute collar.  I boogied without moving my feet with my group of girl friends.  Amy looked fabulous, and she wore pink heels.  At one point during the evening, Amy let me borrow them and I strutted around, trying to get a boy--any boy--to notice.  I would have danced with anyone if he had asked me, including the band director, who, in hindsight, was surely gay.  Mr. Phillips said to me as I clicked by, "Tonight's your night!"  I believed him.  He was wrong.  Amy asked for her shoes back.  I went home still having never been kissed.

What would I find if I "googled" you?

My brother Tim tried to make it weird to my parents that my best friend is a boy, but it's not.  Jamie has been my best friend since sixth grade when we were both lost on our first day in Middle School.  I walked into the unlit room 103 to find a boy sitting in the dim.  I slipped into the back row, too, and we waited, silently.  The seconds ticked by without any other students coming in.  No teacher.  Finally, we both pulled out our schedules at the same time.  "Lunch!" he said, slapping his forehead, just as I said it, too.  Without the slap.  We laughed, which I'm glad because I was so scared to be a dork.  Luckily, we were able to be dorks together.  Jamie wasn't afraid of being dorky, which made me feel okay, too.

We're starting high school after this summer, and it hasn't gotten weird in the way Tim thinks it will, even though, you know, hormones and everything.  That's not to say it's not weird.  It is totally weird.

How would your best friend describe you?

In Kindergarten, they took the same bus to school, though they didn't know each other very well because they lived too far away to walk to each others' houses.  Louise knew Renee lived in one of her two favorite houses that she saw every ride home.  It sat by a creek and seemed mysterious.  Louise also knew Renee as one of the only kids she knew who wore glasses.  Renee remembered Louise as the girl with an earache.  One ride home from school, Renee saw Louise crying into her school bag and asked what was wrong.  Louise suffered earaches and bronchitis fairly often as both her parents smoked.

Later in elementary school, Louise would remember Renee as The Girl Who Came a Day Late.  It was the day after Louise's birthday on a bright late October day and she saw Renee, now moved to a less mysterious house, but within walking distance, coming down the sidewalk, the largest present she ever saw in hand.  Decades later, Louise would suspect that Renee came a day late on purpose, to avoid the other kids and the party atmosphere.  She would not remember the party, but she remembered Renee, sharing leftover chocolate cupcakes, and coloring together in the Giant Size Wonder Woman coloring book that was Renee's present.  Renee would remember that Louise was careful to make sure she didn't feel bad about being a day late, and she enjoyed the birthday party of two.

Pageant Question: Which is more important, friendship or personal success?

If I were you.

If I were you, I wouldn't be you.

If I were you, my life wouldn't be your life.  If you were me, my life would not be mine.

Differences in our situations make our lives different, but differences in us would change all outcomes.

If I were you, I would save my money and get my passport.

If I were you, I would sign up as a volunteer in a foreign land.

If I were you, I would teach English across the sea.

If I were you, I would live light.

If I were you, I would be free.

That you are different means that you have no money, nor passport.  Your life is heavy.  You are not free.

I am not you, but I wish you could be light and free and happy.

While still being you.