Archie

Good morning. I have several perfectly reasonable requests to make. I know, I know, I am a cell phone. How is that even possible? Okay, just humor me.

Request #1. I see that you just popped a piece of cinnamon roll in your mouth. Now, you are licking your fingers. You can touch me, but only after you wash your hands. Smudges and I don’t see, eye to eye. By the way, another piece of bread just fell out of your mouth, and it has landed on me. Oh, my goodness. Next time, you might want to chew with your mouth closed.

Request #2. Every so often, clean my screen. No, not with the dirty towel the dog likes to drag across the living room floor. For your information, I respond best to a gentle wipe from a microfiber cloth. It is far more effective.

Request #3. On our way to the bathroom again, are we? If my memory serves me right, we were just in there. It may have something to do with that cinnamon bun you just ate. Try gluten-free next time. I am sure your intestinal tract will thank you for it. Or, enter the bathroom without me. Instead, take a magazine or two. You have my permission. Anyway, I could use some alone time.

Request #4. Keep me off the rim of the bathtub. A previous incident serves as a timely reminder. You sat me on the rim. I slipped, and landed on the bottom. It was quite the ride, and I still experience blackouts.

Request #5. Okay, if you must hold me while you do your business, please make it snappy. I have plans for the day.

Request #6. I am not waterproof, so try not to drop me in the toilet bowl. That one time was enough.

Request #7. Please wash your hands. Thank you.

1.

The Mother is estranged from her sister. Her husband and her do not see eye to eye.

The Husband says the Aunt is a bully. The Aunt says the Husband is a drunk.

The Mother longs for a ceasefire. Her only focus now is her two young sons.

The younger son misses his Aunt because she praises his mediocre school reports.

The older son has reservations about all of his family. He is only eleven and knows he must be resilience.

2.

The doorbell rings. The girlfriend Mother hears a girlfriend say: Hello It’s Only Me.

The Mother is uneasy. No appointment has been made.

The two sons are fighting in the sitting room.

The Mother wonders what her husband will say and if she has enough milk for coffee. The last time met this girlfriend he was unpleasant. I refuse to compromise with stupid people he said.

I’ve got another surprise for you. I’ve brought my family says the girlfriend.

3.

The girlfriend beckons in her husband and their teenage son. The Mother hugs them with a few tears. You’ve grown so tall she says to the boy. Tall as the jolly green giant thinks the younger son.

One final surprise says the girlfriend pointing at the open front door.

The estranged Aunt walks in with her daughter and husband. The Mother is flummoxed. Sorry. I’m a Trojan Horse says the girlfriend. Everyone has an unconfident face.

This is quite a lot to take in says the Mother humbly as if she’s won a big prize. I wish you’d let me know in advance.

It wouldn’t have happened if we had says the Aunt.

4.

The older son senses unease. The younger son senses opportunity. He hugs his Aunt and asks the tall teenager if he can climb onto his shoulders because he’s never been that far off the floor.

The teenager laughs and helps him climb up his back. The Aunt asks the older son: How Have You Been. The older son feels hunted and retreats into the sitting room.

Who’s that?

Everyone hears his voice. Eyes glance and faces freeze.

What the FUCK do you think you are doing says the Father.

I’m touching the ceiling says the younger son from the shoulders of the tall teenager.

5.

There is a mêlée of adults and hurtful words. The adults are immobile, fixed like bad actors to a spot and hurl words at each other in loud, trembling voices.

Soon only the Father and Aunt shout. The others pour balm and hand out olive branches. The Mother says: It’s just lunch. An attempt at reunion.

The Father leaves to smash kitchen plates. The Mother picks up her coat. The younger son is downstairs ready to go, already.

The older son has tied himself to a table to symbolise his rejection of a reunion and loyalty to his Father. He will always remember this morning as a farce, including his own theatricality.
​

I have seen a lot from my humble, hilltop vantage point over the centuries. I have seen the world completely change around me; to the point it is almost unrecognisable. I have lost all my closest companions to various factors: disease, inescapable time and to the harsh, unpredictable elements. However, most were casualties of the ceaseless expansion and selfish ambitions of an alien species.

Now only I remain! A lone sentry, in my peoples’ once all-encompassing domain. Why do I stay? I stay because I must! My roots are deep and I simply cannot abandon this mound. I know my time will come eventually; peaceful co-existence is just not in their nature. No. Especially when they deem everything else to be beneath them. They are creatures full of contempt.

All my kind may have long ago been broken and burned, yet, there are still those who depend on me. I offer what protection I can to the little ones. I provide what shelter I can from the elements and feed many during the bountiful months. Is this to be my purpose now? To take on the mantle of guardian and offer what I can to those even more vulnerable than myself?

An individual oak cannot call oneself a wood, let alone a forest but hopefully, if nothing else, I serve as a potent memento. A reminder of what was, what is, and perhaps, optimistically, what could be again. That is the hope of this old tree at least…
​

John McMahon turned around the corner of the hallway to enter into a partially visible dark room, getting a sudden jolt. In front of him appeared what seemed to be a prison cell. Its occupant was sitting on a narrow bed. A wash-basin and a toilet could be seen at two different corners of that tiny prison cell. John quickly regained his senses to appreciate the authentic recreation of the exhibit inside that room of the Civil Rights Institute in Birmingham, Alabama. In town for a business, he decided to explore the place.

Birmingham had a notorious dark past, being labeled as the most segregated city of the country at the height of the Civil Rights Movements. The depicted person sitting on the bed in that exhibit was none other than assassinated leader Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Rev. King had come to this town to preach his nonviolence resistance against segregation, but was arrested for purportedly disorderly conduct and put into prison. But the real betrayal came from his fellow white preachers of the town. They remained silent about the evilness of human indignity of the segregation, while failing to condemn the violent crackdown of the protesters by the local authorities. At the same time, the preachers accused Rev. King as “an outsider stirring up trouble” inside their city. Sitting in his prison-cell, Rev. King would pen a long letter, addressing to his fellow bishops. He would forcefully refute their “outsider” label for him, while proclaiming “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere”. The walls of that exhibit room were covered with more illuminating lines from that letter.

John finished visiting remainder of the exhibits. But he could not shake up the image of that particular room along with that universal truth about injustice. Current internal political climate again brought humiliations and injustices to a multitude of minority groups: religious, immigrants, women, and holders of same-sex relationship, to name a few. In a display of “anticipated obedience,” the educated members of the major political party in power decided to turn their blind eyes on the despicable behavior of their supreme leader. Overseas, the country’s reputation as a “Champion of freedom, justice and equality” had been irreparably tarnished.

John came out of the building. He then began to cross the road to go to the other side to visit the iconic Baptist Church, the site of a horrific Sunday bombing by a white supremacist group during the same era. The terror had taken the lives of four young African-American children while injuring scores.

Exiting the church, John checked the day’s news on his e-device learning the brutal murder of an African-American citizen by a white policeman in a liberal city. Following partial section from Dr. King’s same letter suddenly began flashing inside his brain: “When you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick, brutalize, and even kill your black brothers and sisters with impunity ………. then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait.”
​

“Tell me Ben. Why on earth do you take the fall for others? You had nothing to do with the carjacking by Straw Hat Pizza employees last week.”

“They’re my friends and coworkers.”

“Some friends; they borrow all your money, take advantage of you for transportation, and bring out the very worst in you.”

“You only know part of that story. Our boss set them up because all three dated and then jilted his daughter at one time or another.”

“Adele?”

“You know damn well it is, Celia. The two of you were thick as thieves until recently.”

“Well, I must admit; she’s a vengeful slut…. Though I can’t blame them for dumping her, those three nitwits should have known better!”

“Again, none of us did anything illegal; we were framed!”

“Still, you just lost your third job in a row by not minding your own business and allowing other losers to fall by the wayside.”

“Our Republican president, the biggest loser in the world, constantly calls the kettle black when accusing others. Then he brags how successful he has been—and will be—in life.”

“Let’s not get sidetracked talking politics, Ben”

“Okay. When did we start hangin’ out, Celia?”

“About two years ago, why?”

“How’d we meet? Do you even remember?”

“Sure. We were at the Bodega, drinking brewskis, listening to Hot Tuna.”

“As I recall, though both flirty and friendly, you frequently broke down in tears while we attempted to hear each other talk over the sound of the band.”

“Yeah, my asshole landlord threw me out of my apartment…. But then you invited me to crash at your place.”

“Just out of curiosity, how long did you plan to stay, Celia?”

“Er, we became lovers and—”

“How long!”

“What’s with you, Ben? We never established a minimum stay, especially after we’d become a couple.”

“Who paid the bills?”

“You managed to do so—I never said otherwise.”

“How?”

“Dunno.”

“By putting aside part of each pay check I received, preparing for a rainy day.”

Irritated, Celia shook her head and snapped, “We’re arguing about your loser friends, not rainy days.”

“Correction. We were talking about us and how I’ve provided you with food and shelter—job or no job.”

“Ben—what point are you trying to make?”

“Well, Celia, you’ve been right all along. I’ve emotionally blinded myself to a stark reality.”

“Do tell?”

“Without a doubt, I need to reprioritize my friendships.”

“High time,” she sighed with an air of satisfaction and approval.”

“Pack your bags, Celia. I want you out of my house by tonight.”

“Be serious Ben; I’m not the loser in this room.”

“Fine. Drop me an email relating your future successes.”

Celia smirked, raised her eyebrows, and questioned, “Aren’t you forgetting something Ben?”

“What might that be?” be he retorted smugly.

“I inherited our house from my grandmother. I’m going nowhere!” ​