The morning was a bitterly chilled axe that slowly chipped away at the good nature of every person who had to arise for a commute to work. The heat they carried with them as they left their houses, their bastions of warmth and safety, was palpable. It trailed off as they made their way down stairs, a red haze that drifted upwards to the infinite sky.
John Derringer had bundled up, for all the good it would do. The heat in his car, like his marriage, like his relationship with his children, like his father’s memory, was non-functioning. Derringer used to mock drivers that wore gloves in the winter, and how pretentious they seemed, as they would drive vapidly from point A to point B.
Since the Divorce (No, cannot say that word around the kids) Derringer had moved to an old apartment complex that overlooked a dry reservoir. He had sold his sporty roadster for a sensible car, an aluminum can that had better mileage, but frequently broke down. It spent as much time in the shop as it did rolling down the road. Derringer would have bought a better car, but he spent much of his money on a D-word lawyer. His wife, too, had spent much of his money on a D-word lawyer – more than John could afford.
His children hated him on alternating weekends and loved him only when they forced a choked, “Goodbye.”
Derringer piled himself into his car – slightly stocky, he more so poured himself into his car, with all of his coats and scarves and mittens and hats and socks and multiple layers of pants – and slammed the door behind him, shivering. Beneath all the layers, he was a beating heart, a bleeding heart, a stopping heart, inching his way towards his own death.
He pulled out of his complex, his overly gloved hands slipping on the wheel, grasping for purchase. The last in a long line of cars, he patiently waited for his turn at the stop sign.
He turned onto the small wooded road that ran parallel to his apartment complex that eventually ended at a much larger road that he would take to his office. He could see his breath in front of him coming out in short, shivered gasps, the vapor expanding outwards, hitting the window and fogging it. The window un-fogged when he inhaled, pulling the vapor back into his mouth and down into his lungs.
The school bus had it’s yellow lights flashing up the road, but it was still traveling at the speed limit. Derringer rolled his eyes – it was a judgment call now. To slow down and stop, anticipating when the bus will, or roll past it, ignoring the flashing yellows.
Derringer clinched his fist and resolved not to move his foot from the accelerator. As he approached the bus, the red STOP sign swung out, but it was too late. John had already rolled past. The bus driver honked and honked after him, but John was gone.
Derringer broke the law that morning.
-
Once upon a time, there was a happy man with a happy woman. He had met the woman in a dungeon – she had been kept captor by a vicious man that would attack her with a club and debate false morals to no end. The good man had spied the woman from across a vast field of the similarly afflicted, and he had chosen her, and she had chosen him to be her savior. And the good man did save her. He took her away from the dungeon, the poisonous life she had been living.
Once upon a time, the Good Man and the Happy Woman had been in love. They held hands and kissed and rubbed noses. They weathered the harshest winters together. They were poor, but happy. They were Good and Happy.
Once upon a time, the Good Man and the Happy Woman began to look at each other with different eyes, the fog of war settling over their lives.
-
Derringer pulled into his regular parking space, shutting off his car and piling himself onto the pavement. He spilled his coat-sweater-scarf-sock-pants-hat self into the parking lot, and began to amble – because that is all you can do when you’re that layered – towards the back door of the office. He stopped briefly at an intersection, looking both ways before stepping into the road.
A car, from nowhere in particular heading nowhere in particular, laid on its horn and swerved to miss John, who took a step back, falling.
After a few seconds, his heart settled down and he began to regulate his breathing.
“What an inconsiderate ass,” he muttered to himself. He pull himself up slowly, arduously, before dusting himself off.
He began to amble towards the office and opened the door. It was warm inside the building, like lover’s embrace, and John began to shed his exterior layers as soon as he set foot inside of his room. He laid the clothes very carefully on the floor so he could remember how he put them on, and sat down at his computer, powering it up.
He had around 60 unread e-mails.
-
Once upon a time, the Good Man saw the Happy Woman with another Not-So-Good-Man. The Not-So-Good-Man was more handsome than the Good Man, funnier than the Good Man, and made the Happy Woman even more happy. So much so, it seemed, that when the Happy Woman was with the Not-So-Good-Man, she became the Happier Woman, and this made her seem like the Sad Woman around the Good Man.
Normally, they would have gone their separate ways, but the Good Man and the Sad Women had once upon a time loved each other in a way that only adults love each other, and had many, many Crying Brats. These were the most complicated bits, you see, as they would Cry. They were the foundation that held the Sad Woman and the Good Man together. They were the reason they could not split, and as such, the Sad Woman resented them.
-
At around lunch-time, Derringer made a pack of noodles in the kitchen. He turned as they began to cook in the microwave, and his boss, a ginger-type man sauntered in.
“Hey, John. We need to have a chat.”
“Oh?”
The boss, the ginger-man, began describing a scenario where John would work less hours because the company didn’t need him as much any more. He also began to pontificate several points as to why John had been passed over for a promotion. After a few seconds pause, he got to the good news.
“Divorces are nasty business, John. And I know we’re cutting your hours back, but the good news is, you’re going to be making more money with your new hours and raise than you were with your old hours. We’re keeping you on as an independent contractor. You’ll still have your office, and you’ll still be paid, but any work you do for us that’s outside of the retainer, will be cash under the table. Something your wife doesn’t have to know about.”
-
One upon a time, the Good Man turned overnight into the Sad Man, and the Sad Woman turned overnight into the Happier Woman. This was the first night that the Sad Man slept alone, but not the first night that the Happier Woman had fled into another’s arms.
Many months passed, once upon a time, and the Sad Man sold his white steed for a beat up donkey. The Sad Man could no longer see the Crying Brats, as they were the steadfast possessions of the Happier Woman. The Sad Man lamented the cold, long winters, but welcomed them as his new mistress.
-
Derringer left work that day on an up note, tenderly getting dressed and walking out to the lot. He poured himself into his car. It was now dark out, the unforgiving, clouded night sky forming a dome against the heavens. John turned his headlights on, and was surprised to see the right headlight was tinted red.
He blamed the manufacturer on the faulty headlight, and drove home carefully. The red light cut against the pavement, bathing the street in a half pure, half adulterated glow.
John pulled into his regular parking space at the apartment complex as the first snowflakes began to fall. He did not cast a single glance behind him. Snow was no longer romantic, it was just cold.
The white powder began to cover the hood of his car, and began to wash away the thin red layer.
-
Once upon a time, the Sad Man was on the way to toil in the fields when he noticed a wagon carrying a large load of Crying Brats. The Sad Man was faced with a choice – to press on, or to stop, as was the law in this strange land. The Sad Man, cold, shivering, on a bray, with the world against him, rode past. He did not notice the donkey kick a Crying Brat that had run out in anticipation of the Caravan. And when the donkey limped home that evening, the Sad Man blamed poor breeding.
-
John fell asleep as the snow began to wash his car, and the snow would take the thin red from the pavement.
-
Once upon a time, the Sad Man had a Crying Brat. The Sad Man and the Happier Woman had not spoken for some time, and he did not realize that the Happier Woman had moved closer to the Sad Man so he could have more contact with his Crying Brats.
Once upon a time, one of the Sad Man’s Crying Brats was trampled to death by a passing donkey. All the knights in the kingdom could not find the donkey responsible, or the man riding it.
When the Sad Man found out one of his own had been killed, he became the Depressed Man. But with his increase in funds from the field, he traded in his donkey and bought a steed.
Once upon a time, they had been the Good Man and the Happy Woman.
Once upon a time, he had saved her.
The Depressed Man went on with his daily life, none the wiser of his actions, as this was the way of the world, and the world was a very cruel place.
Once upon a time.
John Derringer had bundled up, for all the good it would do. The heat in his car, like his marriage, like his relationship with his children, like his father’s memory, was non-functioning. Derringer used to mock drivers that wore gloves in the winter, and how pretentious they seemed, as they would drive vapidly from point A to point B.
Since the Divorce (No, cannot say that word around the kids) Derringer had moved to an old apartment complex that overlooked a dry reservoir. He had sold his sporty roadster for a sensible car, an aluminum can that had better mileage, but frequently broke down. It spent as much time in the shop as it did rolling down the road. Derringer would have bought a better car, but he spent much of his money on a D-word lawyer. His wife, too, had spent much of his money on a D-word lawyer – more than John could afford.
His children hated him on alternating weekends and loved him only when they forced a choked, “Goodbye.”
Derringer piled himself into his car – slightly stocky, he more so poured himself into his car, with all of his coats and scarves and mittens and hats and socks and multiple layers of pants – and slammed the door behind him, shivering. Beneath all the layers, he was a beating heart, a bleeding heart, a stopping heart, inching his way towards his own death.
He pulled out of his complex, his overly gloved hands slipping on the wheel, grasping for purchase. The last in a long line of cars, he patiently waited for his turn at the stop sign.
He turned onto the small wooded road that ran parallel to his apartment complex that eventually ended at a much larger road that he would take to his office. He could see his breath in front of him coming out in short, shivered gasps, the vapor expanding outwards, hitting the window and fogging it. The window un-fogged when he inhaled, pulling the vapor back into his mouth and down into his lungs.
The school bus had it’s yellow lights flashing up the road, but it was still traveling at the speed limit. Derringer rolled his eyes – it was a judgment call now. To slow down and stop, anticipating when the bus will, or roll past it, ignoring the flashing yellows.
Derringer clinched his fist and resolved not to move his foot from the accelerator. As he approached the bus, the red STOP sign swung out, but it was too late. John had already rolled past. The bus driver honked and honked after him, but John was gone.
Derringer broke the law that morning.
-
Once upon a time, there was a happy man with a happy woman. He had met the woman in a dungeon – she had been kept captor by a vicious man that would attack her with a club and debate false morals to no end. The good man had spied the woman from across a vast field of the similarly afflicted, and he had chosen her, and she had chosen him to be her savior. And the good man did save her. He took her away from the dungeon, the poisonous life she had been living.
Once upon a time, the Good Man and the Happy Woman had been in love. They held hands and kissed and rubbed noses. They weathered the harshest winters together. They were poor, but happy. They were Good and Happy.
Once upon a time, the Good Man and the Happy Woman began to look at each other with different eyes, the fog of war settling over their lives.
-
Derringer pulled into his regular parking space, shutting off his car and piling himself onto the pavement. He spilled his coat-sweater-scarf-sock-pants-hat self into the parking lot, and began to amble – because that is all you can do when you’re that layered – towards the back door of the office. He stopped briefly at an intersection, looking both ways before stepping into the road.
A car, from nowhere in particular heading nowhere in particular, laid on its horn and swerved to miss John, who took a step back, falling.
After a few seconds, his heart settled down and he began to regulate his breathing.
“What an inconsiderate ass,” he muttered to himself. He pull himself up slowly, arduously, before dusting himself off.
He began to amble towards the office and opened the door. It was warm inside the building, like lover’s embrace, and John began to shed his exterior layers as soon as he set foot inside of his room. He laid the clothes very carefully on the floor so he could remember how he put them on, and sat down at his computer, powering it up.
He had around 60 unread e-mails.
-
Once upon a time, the Good Man saw the Happy Woman with another Not-So-Good-Man. The Not-So-Good-Man was more handsome than the Good Man, funnier than the Good Man, and made the Happy Woman even more happy. So much so, it seemed, that when the Happy Woman was with the Not-So-Good-Man, she became the Happier Woman, and this made her seem like the Sad Woman around the Good Man.
Normally, they would have gone their separate ways, but the Good Man and the Sad Women had once upon a time loved each other in a way that only adults love each other, and had many, many Crying Brats. These were the most complicated bits, you see, as they would Cry. They were the foundation that held the Sad Woman and the Good Man together. They were the reason they could not split, and as such, the Sad Woman resented them.
-
At around lunch-time, Derringer made a pack of noodles in the kitchen. He turned as they began to cook in the microwave, and his boss, a ginger-type man sauntered in.
“Hey, John. We need to have a chat.”
“Oh?”
The boss, the ginger-man, began describing a scenario where John would work less hours because the company didn’t need him as much any more. He also began to pontificate several points as to why John had been passed over for a promotion. After a few seconds pause, he got to the good news.
“Divorces are nasty business, John. And I know we’re cutting your hours back, but the good news is, you’re going to be making more money with your new hours and raise than you were with your old hours. We’re keeping you on as an independent contractor. You’ll still have your office, and you’ll still be paid, but any work you do for us that’s outside of the retainer, will be cash under the table. Something your wife doesn’t have to know about.”
-
One upon a time, the Good Man turned overnight into the Sad Man, and the Sad Woman turned overnight into the Happier Woman. This was the first night that the Sad Man slept alone, but not the first night that the Happier Woman had fled into another’s arms.
Many months passed, once upon a time, and the Sad Man sold his white steed for a beat up donkey. The Sad Man could no longer see the Crying Brats, as they were the steadfast possessions of the Happier Woman. The Sad Man lamented the cold, long winters, but welcomed them as his new mistress.
-
Derringer left work that day on an up note, tenderly getting dressed and walking out to the lot. He poured himself into his car. It was now dark out, the unforgiving, clouded night sky forming a dome against the heavens. John turned his headlights on, and was surprised to see the right headlight was tinted red.
He blamed the manufacturer on the faulty headlight, and drove home carefully. The red light cut against the pavement, bathing the street in a half pure, half adulterated glow.
John pulled into his regular parking space at the apartment complex as the first snowflakes began to fall. He did not cast a single glance behind him. Snow was no longer romantic, it was just cold.
The white powder began to cover the hood of his car, and began to wash away the thin red layer.
-
Once upon a time, the Sad Man was on the way to toil in the fields when he noticed a wagon carrying a large load of Crying Brats. The Sad Man was faced with a choice – to press on, or to stop, as was the law in this strange land. The Sad Man, cold, shivering, on a bray, with the world against him, rode past. He did not notice the donkey kick a Crying Brat that had run out in anticipation of the Caravan. And when the donkey limped home that evening, the Sad Man blamed poor breeding.
-
John fell asleep as the snow began to wash his car, and the snow would take the thin red from the pavement.
-
Once upon a time, the Sad Man had a Crying Brat. The Sad Man and the Happier Woman had not spoken for some time, and he did not realize that the Happier Woman had moved closer to the Sad Man so he could have more contact with his Crying Brats.
Once upon a time, one of the Sad Man’s Crying Brats was trampled to death by a passing donkey. All the knights in the kingdom could not find the donkey responsible, or the man riding it.
When the Sad Man found out one of his own had been killed, he became the Depressed Man. But with his increase in funds from the field, he traded in his donkey and bought a steed.
Once upon a time, they had been the Good Man and the Happy Woman.
Once upon a time, he had saved her.
The Depressed Man went on with his daily life, none the wiser of his actions, as this was the way of the world, and the world was a very cruel place.
Once upon a time.
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