Thursday, May 5, 2011

"Someone" by Ben Pettaway

Someone woke up this morning on the east side of town in a bed that said: “Bed.”

Sat up, groaning, wincing, slipping on a pair of slippers that said: “Slippers”.

Someone examined the white walls covered with modern-day cave paintings and paused to think.

The brown door with the nametag was soon opened, leading to an egotistical bathroom that screamed, “Bathroom.”

More of the peculiar drawings adorned these walls. Yellow walls. The self-aware toothbrush was retrieved from a cup with a hole-ridden top. Instructions were followed; brushes brushed.

“Mirror.”

He stared at himself – the grey facial hair, the milky blue eyes, the cheek scar. Each held wonderful stories that he would never know, yet he would never know to mourn them.

The man ran his fingers over scrawling pictographs before reaching for the faucet that said: “Faucet.” His attention returned to the drawings - the warming red slowly making its way up from underneath his shirt, taking up residence on his wrinkled cheeks. The man paused. He let the blush run its course, removed his clothes.

The small room was filling with water, but it was no problem. This was how the world worked, what the world wanted.

He lathered the soap.

He washed the areas indicated by the cave’s previous inhabitants.

He stepped out of the bath.

The drawings told him to go here – here he came – a small room, a dark room, a switch.

The drawings showed him a “shirt”; here was a shirt. A representation of “pants” led him to pants. Socks proved to be the most difficult: someone had rolled them inside one another; someone had wanted to save space.

Some other person, he thought.

Surely.

Here was the shirt, the pants, the socks, a man. And there, another man – tiny, black, thin, on the wall. He, too, had a shirt. He had pants and socks. He had answers.

Into the bedroom the tiny man crept, then into the hall, then into the living room. He found a tiny black chair.

So, someone followed into the bedroom, then into the hall, then into the living room. He found a large black chair.

The tiny man sat. A tiny black woman came through his door.

Someone saw a door. It said, “Door.”

The tiny woman helped the little man. She gave him food; she gave him pills; she read to him; she tucked him in.

So someone sat.

He waited.

And he sat.

And he waited.

And he watched the little man and the little woman.

And he waited.

He waits...