Tin Ghost

Tin Ghost

"Hey bro!" she screamed as he ran through the door. "Bro, where are
you?"
"I'm over here," he said, peeking his head from the bathroom.
"Bro, I saw the most amazing thing today."
"What?" he asked, pulling up his pants. He came into to view of her,
his sister, the cutest nine year old he knew. He wouldn't ever tell her
that, the sight of her glimmering eyes made him sick. But she was
cute.
"Today, on the way home from school, I saw a tin ghost." She stood
triumphantly as if she had just won the Punic Wars.
He face turned. "A tin ghost? What the hell is a tin ghost?"
"You know, a tin ghost." She played it up like it was something they
saw everyday. "It was a ghost, but instead of being a normal ghost, it
was made out of tin."
The boy began to feel he understood. "Oh, did somebody make it?"
"No, stupid. You can't make ghosts. Well, you could if you killed
somebody. But this was a regular ghost, just made out of tin."
"Don't call me stupid. You're the one saying that you saw a ghost made
out of tin. What did it look like?"
"Like a ghost! Geez, how much easier could this be?"
"You're a bit young to be this cynical, aren't you?"
"Don't call me sinial."
He laughed hard. "No, cynical. It means you're being mean. God, they
say it in that music you listen to all the time."
"Don't say the Lord's name in vain. When do they say sin... that
word?"
"When? I can't give you any examples, just in all that rock you listen
to."
"It's alternative."
"You're so into it that you correct people on its classification, but
you don't pay attention to the lyrics?"
"Who cares about the words? I just like the music."
His laugh grew. "You're so dumb."
"I am not," she pouted. "I've got a report card coming out that says
I'm not. We get them on Thursday."
"Do you know why you're doing so well?"
She nodded. "Because I'm smarter than you."
"No, because you're in elementary school! "
"I bet I'm doing better than you. I'll show you on Thursday."
"Mine don't come out until next Tuesday, and my classes are a lot
harder. I had all A's when I was in fourth grade. When you hit ninth,
you'll no what I'm talking about."
"No I won't."
They stood at an impasse, with him just wanting to smack her around.
"Just go away. And I suggest you keep that tin ghost thing to
yourself."
"You're just jealous," she said while running off.
"Of what?" he called after her. She didn't turn around. "God,
kids."

His mother came home without warning. When she opened the front door he
jumped, especially since it coincided so well with his sister slamming
the back door. He looked over to see if she was carrying anything, so
that way he could move out of her sight if she was and avoid
responsibility. "Son, where are you?" Her voice rang out through the
house. It was too late, she had grocery bags.
"Over here, mom."
"Come bring groceries in."
He hesitated. "Okay, be there in just a second." He planned to sit and
wait for her to finish doing it.
"Now!"
"Ugh," he grunted as he rose and went out front to the car. There he
saw an abundance of eating and living goods. "How long did you buy
for?"
"Just the week. But we're having company on Wednesday."
"Really? Who?"
"Grand pop and grand mom. They're coming down from Scotland."
A flood of emotions ran through the boy's head. On one hand, he was
incredibly excited that his grandparents were coming down. On the
other, he knew what dinner was like with them. They were extremely slow
eaters and poor conversationalists most of the time. And they were much
older than most grandparents. His grandfather was 98 and he always
assumed his grandmother was older. "Are they going to be here
long?"
"What kind of a question is that?" asked his mother in disgust at the
boy's disappointment.
"I mean that affectionately. I mean, I hope they're going to be for a
while, so are they?"
The mother smiled. "Well, not really. Just two days."
"Yes," he snickered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"I said too bad."
"I see. Have you seen your sister today?"
He chuckled. "Yeah, she was just in here talking about a tin
ghost."
"A tin ghost?"
"That's what I said. She swears she saw one."
"What did it look like?"
"I don't know, she wouldn't tell me. She started saying I was stupid
because her..." He trailed off, realizing he was about to enter a bad
subject.
"Because her what?"
"She says that she has better grades than me."
"Does she?"
"Mom," he whined. "She's in elementary school. I'm in the ninth grade.
I hardly think there's a comparison."
The mother began to scowl. "You're bringing home C's again, aren't
you?" He smiled at the thought of that being the worst of it, and then
nodded. "I don't know if I can trust you with the car anymore."
"But, mom, I don't go out that often."
"No buts. Apparently, you go out often enough."
The two little girls met at the park. One was in her blue flower dress,
the other in white jeans and a cut-off top. "Gee, Jeannie, your parents
let you dress like that?" called the girl in the blue dress.
"Yeah, they gave it to me as an early birthday present."
"Really? Your birthday's in a month, I forgot. Imagine what they'll
give you on your birthday."
"Yeah." Jeannie reflected. "Hey, maybe by then they'll let me wear my
birthday suit!" The two girls giggled.
"Hey, I just realized. If they gave you that for your birthday, then
that would be your birthday suit."
Jeannie became serious. "No, I mean my real birthday suit."
"I know, I was just kidding. You know, making another joke."
"Oh, well it wasn't very funny."
"Gosh, Jeannie, stop being so sinial."
"So what?"
"Sinial. It means that you're being mean. My brother taught it to me.
He didn't believe that I saw a tin ghost today."
"You saw a tin ghost?" Jeannie asked with a glimmer in her eyes.
"Yeah, he was big, and looked a little like Mr. Dudsey." The two girls
giggled again. "He was a ghost, I swear, but he was all made out of
tin."
"Why didn't your brother believe you? Did you say what it looked
like?"
"Yeah, but he's just stupid."
"Yeah, brothers are stupid." As they talked, a boy their age, Rocky,
came by, watching them as they spoke and trying to hear what they said.
He walked away to his friend who was standing over by a tree. "Oh my
gosh," said Jeannie. "Was he looking at us?"
"I bet he was looking at you," said the girl raising her
eyebrows.
"Stop that!" Jeannie scolded. Then she looked back at Rocky. "You think
so?"
"Look at how you're dressed. I bet he's thinking about sex with
you."
"Oh, just cut it out. He is not. You're sick, Patricia."
"I'm serious. Why don't you go over there and ask?"
The two girls stood silently for a second. Jeannie just stared at
Rocky. His friend seemed sort of cute, too, though she couldn't see who
it was. Jeannie snapped around. "Hey, I heard that it's the most fun
anyone can have."
"What is?"
"You know..."
"Sex?"
"Yeah. My sister who's in college was talking about it to one of her
friends and how much fun it is. Maybe I should go over there..."
"Maybe you should just do it with the both of them."
"Oh, shut up, Pat. You really are sick." Patricia smiled. Jeannie
looked back to her lust interest. "I'll bet he's really good."
"How would you know?"
"Look at him. He's gorgeous."
Patricia looked at him. "He's okay. But not as cool as my tin
ghost."

Rocky approached the boy by the tree. They greeted each other with a
slight nod and small wave. Rocky's dark features and baggy clothes made
him look older, but a maximum of sixteen, since teenager was the look
he was going for. The other boy was more conservatively dressed. It was
quite apparent the boy was more concerned with his childhood than
Rocky.
Eventually Rocky was standing next to the boy, though they still didn't
say anything. The boy spoke first. "Did you have a good day at school?"
he asked of Rocky.
"What kind of a stupid question is that? I mean, it's school. How can
you have a good day there?"
The other boy, slightly offended just nodded and mumbled, "Yeah, I
suppose you're right." Rocky continued to be silent. "Did the teacher
give you a hard time?"
"Yeah."
"What did you do this time?"
Rocky clenched his fist. "What do you mean, 'What did I do'? I never do
anything. Me and Billy were in the back and Billy made a farting sound
and Mr. Dudsey turned around."
"So you were in the library?"
"Yeah. Don't interrupt me for crap like that. What does it matter?
Anyway, he turns around and says that we have to be quiet. Then he
turned back around and I said to Billy, 'What a jerk' and he turns
around and says that we have detentions for talking."
"Well, you were talking."
"So what? That's just stupid."
The other boy started looking around to take the focus off school. He
saw the two girls across the park. He especially looked a Jeannie.
"Hey, Rocky, maybe we should go over to the girls."
"Why?"
"Because they're pretty."
"The word is hot, and they ain't that great. Besides, they were talking
about tin ghosts or something."
"About what?"
"Tin ghosts. I don't know what they are. That's just stupid."
"You don't believe in ghosts?"
"Well, like regular ghosts but no tin ghost crap."
"Yeah, I guess there's no such thing as a tin ghost. Hey, Rocky, you
wanna come over to my house today?"
"I can't man. My dad wants to talk to me about playing baseball."
"Is he still trying to get you to play?"
Rocky reflected. "Yeah, that's just stupid."
An old man walked next to his old wife and approached a fairly young
door. The man gave it a hearty knock, which produced a faint tapping
noise. After waiting a while, forgetting where he was, who he was with,
or why he existed, and then remembering all of it, he pushed the
doorbell button. A chime rang throughout the house and immediately a
man appeared and opened the door. "Dad, how you been?" exclaimed the
man. The old man had a smile on his face, jittered and shook as the
other man hugged him, then got a terrible frown.
"Am I at the right house?" he asked.
"Yes, dear," answered the woman. The old man's son helped him into the
house and down to the table.
The old man, upon being seated said, "I have to go to the
bathroom."
His son groaned. "Go ahead." The old man left the table and did not
return for close to half an hour. When he did come back he was greeted
by the rest of his family: his granddaughter and grandson and his
daughter-in-law. "Again, dad, I ask how you've been," asked the
son.
The man smiled again. Then he looked terribly confused. "I brought some
haggis," he said in his thick Scottish accent.
"They know, Ian. I already gave it to them," replied his wife.
"Is that all Scots know how to make?" asked the granddaughter.
"No, dear," said the old man. "No, not at all. We make, uhhh, ummm...."
he trailed off. "Well, what's for supper?"
"The haggis, dad." The son looked at the grandson who was shaking his
head in disbelief. The daughter-in-law came out holding the haggis on a
steam tray.
"Let's just eat, shall we?" she offered.
"That sounds nice," answered the old man. "Mmmm, and it smells nice,
too."
"Dad, you brought it."
"Oh, yes. Well, let's eat. Enough of all this business about tin
ghosts."
Everyone was thrown back. "About what, dad?"
The granddaughter leaned to her brother. "I told you so."
The son grew impatient. "All this business about what, father?"
"You know," answered the old man, "you need to get yourself
married."
The son slammed his fork down as he was passed the tray of assorted
sheep innards. "Do we have to go through this every time?" Everyone at
the table was giggling.
"Just until you get married."
"I AM MARRIED!!I I've been married for near sixteen years now."
"To who? I hope not that little thing."
"No, dad, that's my daughter."
"Well, you couldn't possibly be married to my wife. She's your mother,
for God's sakes."
"No, dad, I'm married to my wife."
The old man sat in silence. "I would like some fish now."
"We don't have fish, dad. You brought haggis."
"To where?"
The son buried his face is his hands. "Nowhere, dad. Just,
nowhere."

"Where are you going, son?" the man called after his seventeen year old
son.
"I'm going out to see the tin ghost, dad. I told you that."
The father caught up with his son. His fat slowed him quite a bit, but
eventually he crossed the house. "You didn't tell me any such thing.
And what's this nonsense about a tin ghost."
"Tin ghost, dad. That's what I'm going to see."
"Don't go anywhere, right now. Especially until I see you're
grades."
"Dad, you know I have good grades." His lanky body looked distraught.
He tried to cross his arms, but it only made him look more
awkward.
"Not until I see them. Jarod, I need you here. Rocky's going to be home
soon."
"So?"
"Well, I'm trying to talk him into playing baseball. I want you here to
tell him how much fun it is."
"What?!" Jarod yelled. "How much fun? I hated baseball."
"You didn't hate it," said his father shaking his head. "You loved it.
You went to every practice. And you were good at it."
"What are you talking about? I only went to practice because if I
didn't you would ground me. I wasn't any good at all. Our team won one
game and it was a scrimmage, against a girls team, a younger girls
team. I hated it. I hated you in the stands screaming for me to run or
you'd disown me. I hated the way all the other kids laughed me. I
especially hated the way the pitchers always tried to hit me. There
wasn't a thing I liked about playing baseball. So I will not help you
talk Rocky into playing."
The father folded his arms and watched Jarod as he wheezed with anger.
The father was disappointed, though he didn't listen to a word his son
said. They were just bitter statements, he felt, and he never paid
attention to the way his son felt about his competitive pressure. "I
think Rocky has a much better chance of enjoying himself. He's not
quite as cynical as you. Please, do this for me."
"Dad, I played baseball for you. That was enough."
"You did that for you, too."
"Dad, haven't you been listening at all. I only did it to keep you from
beating me."
"I wouldn't ever beat you. I'm the Chief of Police. I can't break my
own laws."
"It wasn't a physical threat. It was emotional, it was mental-"
"Oh, stop being so dramatic," his father interrupted. "It couldn't have
meant that much. You're always so theatrical about everything. I think
I should pull you out of drama."
"I'm not in drama."
"Then how are you going to be in that play that's coming out."
"That's community theater."
"Then I'll pull you from there."
"Dad, don't you want anything for me?"
"Yes, I want you to be happy. I want you to be a helper for your
brother, I want you to be a big baseball star."
"I knew you wouldn't get it." Jarod looked at his watch. "Great. Now
you've made me miss the tin ghost."
Evening fell, and with it, the old man settled into his bed. He lied
there peacefully, thinking about what he had done that day, though he
couldn't quite remember. He knew there was something he wanted to do.
In desperation to figure it out, he picked up the phone next to his bed
and began dialing some foreign number. It rang several times. Soon,
there was some fumbling on the other line and eventually another old
man said, "Hello?"
"Hello, Tony," said the first old man.
"Ian?" asked Tony. "What are you doing up this late Ian?"
Ian thought for a moment. "I just wanted to tell you that, umm, that,
uhh...."
"Come out with, Ian, I haven't got all night."
"Hang on, Tony. What are you so testy about?"
There was a long breath. Ian could hear Tony give a small cough. "I was
just..." Tony paused. "Today, the doctor says I have..." Tony couldn't
rightfully talk about it. He felt too cowardice.
"I understand Tony. It happens to all of us."
"It happened to my wife. I keep trying to remember if she went through
any pain. I can picture her face, clear as day. But every time I think
of her on the bed..." He broke off in sobbing.
"Tony, keep it together. She was a good woman. And I don't think you
would have known if she went through any pain, she was too strong to
let on to a thing like that."
The sobs became shorter. "You think so? You're a good friend, Ian. I'm
so scared of dying."
"Don't be. I know it's coming for me soon, but I'm well
prepared."
"How do you keep so calm? I remember you were that calm in war. You
never told me how."
Ian reflected on his days in the war. "I probably shouldn't now."
"Please," Tony pleaded.
"All right. I think of paradise."
"You mean Heaven?"
"No, paradise. A beautiful tropical island surrounded by gorgeous
women. That way if I die then, I die happy."
"That's your trick?"
"That's it."
"I'll try it. Ian, you're a good friend."
"I know, Tony, I know. Tell me, Tony, how did you cope with losing your
wife?"
"I didn't."
"Yeah, I don't think I could either."
"Have you remembered why you called me yet?"
"Oh, yes, of course. I just wanted to tell you that my little
granddaughter-"
"Hold on," interrupted Tony as he began a coughing fit. He coughed and
hacked and then stopped, though he didn't return to the phone.
"Tony?" Ian asked. "Tony?" But there was no reply. "Tony, I just wanted
to tell you that my little granddaughter says she's seen the tin ghost,
too. Good night, Tony." Then he hung up the phone. "Who was
that?"
n the morning, people returned their places of business, work, and
learning. Jarod walked slowly in the morning to his locker as he always
did. He gave himself plenty of time to get to his first class, and all
of his major friends went to other schools, so he wasn't stopped to
talk much. But today...
Judy approached him cautiously. As he shut his locker, he felt her
standing behind him. He turned around to see her smiling awkwardly.
"Hi, Judy," he said and tried to walk away with it at that. Judy was
pretty, for a sophomore, but very immature, and incredibly material.
Jarod was amazed that someone as popularity seeking as Judy would talk
to him.
"Hi, Jarod. How was your night last night?" Jarod shrugged, trying to
avoid the question. "Well?" she asked again.
He hated getting into this with her. She always tried to impress him
with how drunk she got the previous night. "It was okay. I missed the
tin ghost and was kind of upset about that, but other than that,
nothing much happened."
"Hey, you mentioned that, too. My sister came home last night talking
about her friend had seen it."
"You're sister's nine. How did her friend see the tin ghost?"
"I don't know. I don't even know what it is."
"Really? I guess it hasn't been very well publicized."
Judy shrugged and twirled her hair. "Umm, yeah, that could be it.
Anyway, Jarod, do you want to, um, do something this weekend?"
"Gee, I.." he fumbled for words. "I don't think I can."
"Jarod, why not? We could have a lot of fun. Like last night, I went
to-"
"I really don't need to hear about your last night." Judy was very
taken back. She frowned and lowered her eyes. "I mean, I don't want to
be offensive, but we don't have time. The bell is about to ring."
"It's only the first bell," she complained.
"Yes, but my first class is all the way across school and I have to
stop off at another teacher's before I get there." The bell sounded.
"See, Judy, now I'll talk to you later."
"Jarod, how are you able to do this to me?"
"Do what to you ?" he cried. "Do what? I don't do anything to
you."
"I know, and that's what does it."
"Judy, you're not making any sense. Are you saying that you want to
have some sort of relationship with me?"
"Oh, well, I mean..." she was very surprised by the straight
forwardness of the question. She regained her composure, mustered up
some courage and said, "Yes, Jarod, that's just what I'm looking
for."
He stood silently and thought. "Forget it. I just... I just
can't."
"Why not?" she whined.
"Because, I don't really think about you romantically."
"Romantically, ooh," she swooned. "Most guys would have said 'in that
way'."
"Yeah, but also, I'm hoping that there's someone else." He glanced at
his watch and took off running. "Bye," he called back to her.
"Who?" she called after him, but he was gone.

The old woman, upon discovering that her husband was still asleep, used
the phone to call her good friend who was in town visiting her son as
his family. The phone rang a number of times before another elderly
voice answered. "Hello?"
"Hello, Gertrude. It's Betty."
"Betty," came the other voice excitedly. "Oh, how are you? How did you
know I was in town?"
"Your husband phoned before you left."
"Oh, he did?" Gertrude questioned. "Surprising."
"Why surprising?"
"Well, Betty, he just hasn't been doing as well as he should be. We had
quite an episode at the dinner table last night. He forgot his son was
married, and mentioned the tin ghost again."
"That is strange. Has he explained what he thinks that is yet?"
Gertrude sighed. "No. I'm so worried about him."
"Oh, don't be worried. He's just getting older. It's starting to happen
to my husband, too."
"I think this may be different. I want to have him tested."
"For what, Gerty?"
"I don't know. Senility, I guess."
"Gerty, I don't if you can test for that. I think it just sort of
happens and no one can do anything about it."
"Well, Betty, I don't necessarily want to do anything about it, but
certainly there have been some medical breakthroughs that could detect
it so I can prepare."
"I think you're giving science a bit too much credit."
"Oh, Betty, I'm just so worried about him."
"I know, dearie, I know." They wouldn't say anything past that about
the subject. It had been well implanted in both of their heads as
children that emotional subjects were to be avoided. They needed
something new, something old, something less personal. "My Tupperware
group is meeting today."
"Oh, really? Where?"
"Over at our good friend Paula's house."
"Paula, oh." Gertrude lowered her voice. "I heard that Paula and her
boss were having an affair."
"No, Paula? Our friend Paula?"
"Yep. He apparently offered her a higher position if she slept with
him."
"A higher position in the bank?"
"Yes. But she ended really falling for him."
"Him who?"
"The manager."
"Oh. Well, I'm not too surprised. Paula's always been kind of sneaky.
And I suppose that would explain the way her daughter turned
out."
"Really? How did her daughter turn out?"
"Well, I heard that she-" the man next to Betty rolled over. "I'm
sorry, Gerty. My husband is getting up. Tell your husband hello for
me."
"Will do. Thanks for calling, Betty. Good bye."
"Good bye, Gertrude."
Jarod tore into the math room, after hearing the tardy bell three or
four minutes previous. He hit the door with force and yanked it open,
where he saw a class attentively watching as his math teacher, Mrs.
Scesly, wrote numbers and symbols. At least, that was the supposed
scene. Actually, everyone had turned to focus on Jarod as he walked in,
stumbling and clicking as he moved to his seat. "Do you have a late
pass, Jarod?" asked Mrs. Scesly.
"No, I'm sorry. I had to talk to Mr. Campbell and I didn't-"
"I want a late pass." She was a cold woman who did everything
systematically.
"I'm afraid I don't have one."
"Then maybe you should go to the office and get one." She turned her
whole body around to face him directly.
"Mrs. Scesly, don't you think that would defeat the purpose of a late
pass. I mean, you want me here to learn, I need to be here for your
lesson. What's the point in wasting more time?"
Mrs. Scesly turned back around. "I'll talk to you privately."
"Ooooohhhh," went the class, which made Jarod squint. He didn't
understand how they could be so immature as to still call attention to
something like that.
Jarod sat in his seat and started open his backpack. The zipper was
loud and cut through the silence of the note-taking classroom. He made
even more noise removing his math folder and opening the front pocket
to get a pen. "Mr. Harris, could you stop interrupting this
class?"
"Mrs. Scesly, I'm just getting out my folder and a pen. I'm sorry if
that's too loud, but I don't know what you would expect of me."
"I expect you to be here on time."
"Ooooohhhh," went the class again.
"Shut up," said Jarod in anger. "Just, everybody, shut up. Mrs. Scesly,
I'm usually never late, I have a ninety-eight average in this class.
What more do you want from me?"
"Jarod, I said I would talk to you privately."
"Don't chastise me and humiliate me and then not let me explain
myself."
"Mr. Harris, are you developing an attitude."
"No, Mrs. Scesly, I'm just trying to say that, other than being late, I
haven't done anything wrong in this classroom, today or earlier. I
don't appreciate you making a spectacle of me and then not letting me
say anything in my own defense."
"Jarod, what did you say your average was in this class?"
"A ninety-eight," he said proudly.
"Not anymore. Now it's a ninety-four."
"What?" he exclaimed. "You can't take points off my grade for talking
back."
"So you admit your were talking back."
"No, Mrs. Scesly, that's not fair."
"No, it's not. Neither is interrupting my class. I hope you can bring
up your grade point average back to where it was, because if it slides
at all, you can kiss your 'A' good bye."
"Mrs. Scesly, if you take away my 'A' I can't go see the tin
ghost."
"The what?"
"Just, never mind," he sighed. "Just..." he began to cry. "I really
wanted to."
At the sounding of the next bell, Jarod went immediately to the gym,
despite Mrs. Scesly's request to talk to him. He walked quickly, and
didn't stop for anything. People noticed his tears, and he could hear
some of his enemies calling him a baby or something to that effect, but
he just continued walking. Soon, he was at the gym, in the locker room,
dressing out. Most of his classmates were dressed and out on the
basketball court before he was anywhere close to done. As he finished
up putting on his pants and picked up his shoes, the coach approached
him. "Harris," the coach said quietly. Jarod paid no attention.
"Harris!" he barked.
"Yes, sir," replied Jarod.
"Are you not listening to me?"
"No, sir, I just hadn't heard you."
"When I call you, you answer me, understand?"
"Yes, sir, and I would have had I heard you."
"Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir, I do." Jarod was sick of following Coach Derek's procedures.
"It's a power trip for you, isn't it, sir?"
"What, Harris?" Coach Derek's face was angry.
"Yelling at your students and making them do just as you say and still
yelling at them. You just love that, don't you?"
"Are you questioning me?"
"No, sir. Forget it."
"That's better." Coach Derek dropped his anger. "Harris, your father
called this morning." He sighed and tried to look away. "He wants me to
put you on the baseball team."
"What?"
"He says that you two were talking about it last night and it sounded
to him as if you thought you could have fun with a second
chance."
"I didn't say anything like that. I said that I hated it and that the
only reason I ever played was for him."
"Yeah, but he thinks you only said that because you were eager to see
something."
"The tin ghost."
"Yeah, that was it. He thinks you were just trying to get out of the
house."
"No, sir. I mean, I was, but that I still hated baseball."
"Son, I don't want to put you on the team at all. You're slow, you're
klutzy, you couldn't hit a ball if-"
"Sir, we all know my inadequacies. What are you going to do?"
"I was wondering if you stay after with me, let me help condition you
for a while. Maybe by next year you could be decent."
"But I don't want to do that."
"Well, I know. But your father is a very influential man. I mean, I
don't want be driving down the road and then be framed for drug
possession and murder or something."
"Sir, he can't do that."
"Really?" Jarod shook his head. "Well, then, I don't know. I see what I
can do. Never mind. Now, just, go out there and, um, play or
something."
Judy strolled off campus fairly easily. She didn't walk far, just down
the road a bit to the nearest Burger King. She walked in, where she saw
a bunch of her classmates, not many of them friends, smoking and
thinking that they were cool. She walked past them, like she was
better, and went directly to the counter. The boy working there was
just out of high school, and she laughed because he seemed like such a
loser. She stood, playing with her purse, and looked up at the menu.
"What's it gonna be today?" asked the server. She read his name tag:
Bobby.
"Well, Bobby, just give me a second, okay?" She was snide and rude.
Bobby lowered his eyes. "Just give me a Whopper and fries."
"Nothing to drink?"
"Did I say something to drink?"
"No, ma'am," he looked at her coldly. "No, you didn't." He rang up her
order and she produced the cash. He gave her a receipt with her order
number on it. She found a booth far away from the other kids there and
just sat down. Soon he called out, "Order forty-two." She that was
hers, so Judy went to the counter and picked it up. No thank you, or
even a smile. "Hey, what's the matter?" asked Bobby confidently.
"Nothing," she snapped.
"No, come on. Something's obviously bothering you."
"Maybe it's your face."
"Hey, no need to get insulting here. I'm just trying to give you
someone to talk to."
"Yeah, well..." She didn't know how to respond. She felt bad, but
didn't want to show weakness in front of the dorks from school. "I just
don't want to discuss it with you."
"You'll be lucky if you find someone you can discuss it with."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Most people don't like to listen to sob stories."
"What makes you think it's a sob story?"
"So there is something." Judy shied away. "Come on, you can tell
me."
"I just..." She looked back to the other kids. Some courage built up
inside her and she turned back to Bobby. "I just asked someone out and
they said no."
"Who would that be?" called out one of the students. "Brian Flecky?"
Everyone burst into laughter at the thought of Brian and his displaced
jaw.
Judy took a deep breath and ignored the comment. Bobby noticed that.
"Of course not," Bobby called back. "She wouldn't ever hit on your
boyfriend." The kid went back to his meal.
"That was nice," said Judy. "Wow, I've never had someone do anything
that super cool for me before."
"That's me," said Bobby. "I'm super cool. Who's this Brian?"
"He's one of the retards at our school. I mean that literally."
"Oh, I understand. Hey, I get off work in fifteen minutes. You want to
go see The Tine Ghost ?"
"What is this tin ghost crap I keep hearing about?"
"It's a movie. It's not very well publicized. The only poster for it is
outside the elementary school. What do you say?"
She pondered. "What the hell? Might as well miss the whole day."
The movie itself was about a man in search of some woman whose picture
he found in a motel. The man toured the world, and found many look
alike. He was a cynical man, and he was hunted by an organization that
they never fully explained. There was a small amount of violence and a
small amount of sex, but it was very real, very human. At one point
there was a story he was told by a Native American man who he met that
explained the title. It was a fable and it went like this:
A raccoon and a skunk met up in a forest. They dug around in the dirt
for a while before noticing each other. It was the skunk who first
noticed the raccoon. "Oh, please don't hurt me," he cried.
"Hurt you? Why do you want me to hurt you?" replied the raccoon.
"I said nothing of the sort. I asked you not to hurt me."
"I don't understand. What impression have you gotten of me?"
"I'm afraid I can only see you, and hear you partially. You look
frightening with your black mask over your eyes."
"I have no black mask, and no eyes. I can only smell you, and I can
hear you partially as well. By your smell, I can determine that you are
ugly and mean."
"I am not ugly or mean."
"I couldn't hear that. You see, in my sleep, I was visited by a tin
ghost, a terrible spirit that is stronger than will, and he sewed shut
one of my ears and poked out my eyes. But he has left me with enough
perception to know what you're like."
"I, too, was visited by a tin ghost. He overpowered my beliefs and
sewed shut one of my ears and burned my nose so that I can no longer
smell. But I see you, and you look dangerous."
"I will not play in your game."
"I have offered no game. I'm saying that I'm afraid of you."
"Are you wanting to fight me?"
"No, please."
The raccoon pounced on the skunk and then stopped. "You fur, it is so
nice to my touch."
"Yours as well. How can something so evil have such nice fur?"
"I don't understand. My judgment tells me that all you want is bad, but
I can feel that this is not so."
"Then we are closer to truly knowing something about one another. You
now know that I am not mean, I can feel that you are not
dangerous."
It was the tin ghost, they both decided, who wanted to pit them against
one another. It is the tin ghost that pits us, people, humans, us
against one another. He keeps us from communicating, from wanting the
same thing, from being the same kind of person. It is this tin ghost
that we find all around us, in our conversations, in our petty
greetings, that hurts, that taunts, that destroys, and that leads us
closer to one another and to ourselves.