Monday, November 28, 2005


He has no time for people. People get on his nerves. He'd rather sort the mail in peace. He doesn't like the silly girls who always come into the mail room to rifle through the undeliverable mail bins for free celebrity gossip magazines. He doesn't like their shrill voices. Voices like theirs grate on his nerves. He wishes they'd stay out of his way and keep the bins stacked up and out of the aisles. Someone could get hurt if the bins are left in the aisles.

He works all day, bent over his work space, sorting mail, making boxes with the paper tape machine, lifting bins. He doesn't mind the work when he's left alone. He likes starting the day with a big mess all over the place and ending it with several perfect stacks of mail. For the most part, he's never left alone. People are always asking him questions. It gives him a headache to hear a question being asked. He takes a lot of aspirin. It irritates his stomach. He doesn't know which is worse, a stomach ache or a headache.

He wishes he were one of the crystal figurines in the jewelry store in the concourse of his building. He walks by the figurines every day at 6 o'clock and always stops to look at them. He always spends a few minutes looking at a different one. He especially likes the squirrel and the penguin. He also really likes the dolphin. Its very hard for him to choose a favorite. It wouldn't be fair, really. They are all very pretty. He likes that they are there to be admired. He likes the colored lights that reflect off their tiny bodies. The figurines are so precise and perfect. They never have any fingerprints on them. He likes that they never have any fingerprints on them. He likes that people leave them alone.

1 comment:

jenny said...

Oh poor Arthur, I'll shut the hell up while I look for my free trash.