tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13596304909840376362024-03-13T22:02:53.842-07:00Tim Dufrisne's FictionAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12032308517159331209noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359630490984037636.post-46861463798818582322014-10-26T21:32:00.001-07:002014-10-26T21:32:19.994-07:00Intro To Screenwriting<div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;">It was the tenth week into the semester. The students had just
settled into their seats and I was marking down attendance. One
student was absent. I looked at his empty seat and a hopeful feeling
crept over me. I thought, perhaps this would be the day that we
finally got through an entire session without any distractions. I
even fantasized that he might have dropped the class and we would be
able to catch up to where we should have been according to the
syllabus. This fantasy, however, ended abruptly as Eric entered the
classroom.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I finally saw that shitty movie,” Eric said, sliding into the
empty seat.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“What shitty movie is that?” asked Lisa, the girl who sat beside
him.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Language, guys,” I said, but was promptly ignored.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“The King's Speech,” answered Eric. “I hated that movie.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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I looked up and reminded Eric, “Hate is a strong word.”</div>
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<span style="text-decoration: none;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="text-decoration: none;"> “Hate </span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">is</span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">
a strong word,” Eric repeated. “I HATED it.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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I took my notes for the day's lecture out of my bag and spread them
across the table. The notes were unnecessary. It was my fifth year
teaching Intro To Screenwriting and I had memorized every lesson well
before I had ever set foot in my own classroom. I was once a
promising up-and-coming screenwriter, in a past life. In addition to
holding a B.A. in Screenwriting and an MA in Literature, I had taken
every workshop and read every book on screenwriting that I could
find. Even though my notes had long become a mere accessory, I
greeted the task of organizing them as a welcome distraction from the
argument that Eric was obviously trying to start. As a junior college
instructor, I'm not supposed to engage in this kind of unproductive
debate, but sometimes I do.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Why didn't you like it?” asked Lisa.</div>
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<br /></div>
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This was the moment Eric was waiting for. He relished tearing apart
films, especially well-regarded ones. In the past few weeks, he made
it known to everyone that he was watching all of the Academy Award's
Best Picture nominees. The more respected the film, the
more scorn he would give. Lisa pretended to be offended, but I could
tell she found Eric's irreverence to be charming and hilarious. She
would exclaim“That's so wrong,” or “I can't
believe you said that!” but always with a delighted snicker. As a junior college instructor, I'm not
supposed to wonder whether or not they're sleeping together, but
sometimes I do.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Because who cares?” Eric asked. “Who cares about the King of
England overcoming a speech impediment during World War Two?”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“I care,” I said under my breath, intending to be ignored, which
I was.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Do you know how many people died during World War Two?” asked
Eric.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“No idea.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Sixty million. Think about that. Sixty million people who were
tried and tested to the absolute limits of their humanity. Sixty
million. And that's just the ones who died. That doesn't even count
the people who survived and lived on, permanently changed by what
happened to them and the choices they had to make during that whole
episode in world history.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Eric, what is your point?” I asked.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“My point is, sixty million people died during that event and
every single one of them would have made a better, more compelling,
more profound, and more important of a film than some rich white
asshole overcoming a stutter.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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I wanted to remind Eric that no matter how much disdain he had in
his voice while saying “rich white asshole,” it did not change
him from being any less of another “rich white asshole” himself,
but I managed to hold my tongue. Nevertheless, I could not pretend to
organize my notes any further. Eric and Lisa's antics were
threatening to eat up yet another session and, after all, I had a job
to do.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Okay,” I said, “now that we've heard Eric's opinion about The
King's Speech – and really, thank God for that – how about we get
down to business? Today we're going to talk about a screenplay's
Inciting Incident.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“He overcame more than just a stutter,” said a student in the third row whose name, I'm ashamed to admit, I do not remember.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Oh, yeah!” exclaimed Eric. “His mother was distant. And his
nanny would poke him and withhold food. I'm sure no one in a Death
Camp would ever want to trade places with the King of England in
those horrible circumstances.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Oh! That's so wrong,” said Lisa, snickering.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The class was starting to unwind. It's a common problem in junior
college. The students are mostly in their late teens and early
twenties. This means they're old enough to have strong opinions, but
still too young to know that they should probably keep those opinions
to themselves. As their instructor, I have a duty to keep the
students focused on the material at hand and not succumb to the wild
emotional flights of the room. This time, however, I failed
spectacularly.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Eric,” I said, “I'm not going to let you do this again.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Do what?” he asked.</div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 200%;">“We're ten weeks into the semester and we still haven't gotten
passed the Inciting Incident.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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“And that's my fault?”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Obviously, yes. You get us off track every week with these
fruitless debates. I just want to have a normal session where we
cover the material at hand. Is that okay with you?”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Sure thing, Professor,” he said.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Great,” I said, then turned to the black board. “An Inciting
Incident is an event that happens at some point in the first third of
the story that disrupts your hero's life and—”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Just one more thing about The King's Speech,” Eric interrupted.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“No,” I said, raising my voice.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Real quick,” he insisted.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Eric!” </div>
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<br /></div>
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It came out much louder than I had intended. Some of the students
jumped a little in their seats. I took a deep breath and continued in
a voice as calm as I could muster. “It appears you would rather
criticize films than learn how to write them. Perhaps you'd be
happier in a film criticism class instead.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Are you kicking me out, Professor?” Eric asked.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“I'm not kicking you out, but you have to understand, no one paid
for this class to listen to you systematically tear apart every beloved film that you've deemed overrated.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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The student in the third row whose name I don't remember said, “Here-here!”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“But isn't discussing films an important part of learning the
craft of screenwriting?”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Yes,” I said, “but first you have to know what you're talking
about.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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There was a short pause.
</div>
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<br /></div>
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“And I don't?” he asked.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I leaned into it. I wanted to say it. I liked saying it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“No. You don't.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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Some of the students chuckled. Eric was naturally offended.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“But you do?” he asked.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Yes.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Remind me again . . . what films have you written?”</div>
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<br /></div>
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I tried to keep calm. I knew where this was going.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Like I told you on the first day, I've been writing screenplays
for over ten years. I've made over a dozen short films and I've had
two features optioned.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“But nothing sold,” said Eric. “Because, honestly, if you got
even one movie made, you probably wouldn't be teaching this class,
right?”</div>
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<br /></div>
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I clenched my jaw. He was right. I hated that.
</div>
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<br /></div>
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Just to be clear, many teachers, perhaps even most teachers, choose
their profession out of a deep passion they have for teaching. They do not view it as a sad last resort when they realize their real dream
isn't going to come true. I believe this is the case for many teachers,
but to be perfectly honest, it simply is not the case for me. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Eric was
correct. If I had sold any of the screenplays I had written, I would
never have taken a day job as a screenwriting teacher at this rowdy
junior college. My days would have been spent meeting with producers
and directors, not students and fellow faculty. I would have been
doing research for my next project, not pretending to be reading my
notes for my Inciting Incident lecture. I would have been happy. At least as happy as someone like me is allowed to get. In any event, I wouldn't
have found myself trembling before a roomful of students fresh out of puberty because I
knew myself to be every bit of a fraud and a failure that Eric had
insinuated.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“You're right, Eric,” I replied, “I wouldn't be here right
now. If you think that means I don't have anything to teach you about
the craft of screenwriting—“</div>
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<br /></div>
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“I do,” Eric interrupted.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“Then you have every right to ask for a refund for this course.
But if you're only here to disrupt others from learning, then yes,
I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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“What's wrong with having an opinion?” Eric asked.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Nothing,” I said, “but you have to remember that this class
is called Intro To Screenwriting, not Intro To Eric's Worthless
Opinion.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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The rest of the students said, “Ooh!”</div>
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<br /></div>
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Lisa said, “I can't believe you said that,” but without an
accompanying delighted snicker.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“My opinions are not worthless,” Eric said.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I am well-aware that college instructors should not attempt to
emotionally destroy one of their students. I probably should have
back-peddled my comment. I should have apologized immediately.
Looking back, I should have done many things differently. I was
simply not in the right mind to do any of those things. Eric's words
had cut me deep – much deeper than they would have if I were at all
secure in my ability as a writer or satisfied with my status as a
teacher. I was out of control. Angry. Violent. Dizzy. It was that
particular brand of dizziness that is strictly reserved for those
sleepless nights when you realize that your potential has petered
out, that what you could have been has given way to what you are, and that you
are not – and likely will never grow into – the talent that you
always imagined yourself to be. Professionalism? Diplomacy? Retreat?
These things were no longer options.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Your opinions are worthless, Eric,” I declared. “You
criticized The King's Speech for not being quite as good as the sixty
million <i>imaginary</i> movies you've got floating around somewhere
inside your head. Let me ask you, though, if you're so brilliant, if
you're such a great writer, where's your screenplay, Eric? Where's
your masterpiece that will knock the world on its ass and usher in a
new era of filmmaking? No one's stopping you. The world is aching for your
brilliant, original voice. So, where is it?”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“That's why I'm taking this class; to become a good writer
someday.”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“No!” I shouted. I was shouting now. “You took this class to
show off how smart you are and how refined your tastes are. And I
don't blame you, Eric. It's a much easier life, isn't it? I mean, why
be vulnerable enough to sincerely create a piece of art to share with
the judgmental world when you can just consume the art other people
make and turn it into shit? Why risk being an artist when you can
just be a parasite?”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Eric stood up and stepped toward me. I thought he was going to take a swing at me, but instead he just started chuckling.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“You wouldn't hate critics so much if you ever got even
one piece of positive feedback from any of them. But you haven't. Because you
suck,” he said, poking me hard in the chest.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
It hurt, in more ways than one. But I didn't budge. I didn't do the
adult, professional thing and acknowledge the fact that this had
evolved into a full fledged altercation with ample opportunity to
become seriously physical. We were no longer student and teacher. The
fact that I was fifteen years older than him and his teacher and during class time all became minor details as trivial as the kinds of
socks I happened to be wearing that day and the name of that guy in the third row. We were two children on the
playground, each defending some prized territory, doing and saying
whatever we could to cause the other a maximum amount of pain and
humiliation.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“You know you suck,” Eric continued. “And just because I
haven't gotten around to finishing a screenplay that's better than
yours <i>yet</i> doesn't change the fact that you write bullshit. Then you come in here and regurgitate the
same bullshit to all of us, because that's
all you know how to do.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
He walked around me and approached the table where I had spread my
lecture notes and pawed through them. “You don't know how
to make yourself into a good writer, so how the hell can you pretend
like you know how to turn us into good writers? You don't see how dumb and irrelevant all these movies like The King's Speech really are,
because you to, at your core, are dumb and irrelevant.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
He tossed my notes back down on the table. We were standing close
now. I reached my hand out and touched Eric on the shoulder, gentle
but stern, like a father-figure. He did not appreciate
this and immediately jerked away, yelling, “Don't touch me!”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I grabbed him again by both shoulders, firmer this time so he
couldn't jerk away. </div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“Listen to me, Eric. This is important.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“I seriously doubt that.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“Even if you're right; even if every critique you make
is absolutely true; all you've done is talk someone out of
enjoying something that once made them happy--”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“--Because they're stupid,” Eric interrupted, gesturing behind him at the class.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
There was another collective “ooh.” I held Eric tighter and
pulled him in closer by the shoulders.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“All you know how to do is reduce the amount of joy on this planet,” I
said, digging my fingers deep into his shoulders. This was payback
for him poking me in the chest a moment ago. It's crazy how
reasonable it felt to do in the moment.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Get your goddamn hands off me, man!” he yelled, grasping and
pulling at my sweater, but I did not hear him.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“But then you don't even have the courage to try to replace it with
something better!”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
We continued to wrestle and yell and spit. Many of the students had stood up from their
desks but were afraid to approach us to break it up. It was then that I realized
that I had a huge size advantage over Eric. He was only nineteen or
twenty, after all, and even though you wouldn't be able to tell by my
actions, I am a full grown man of sizable girth. This girth came in
handy when I then decided to use this leverage to pick Eric up into the
air and throw him down on the table.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
His back hit the table with a hard whack. A look of utter shock and
fear froze across his face, which was framed on all sides by a halo of my
scattered lecture notes. I had plainly gone too far, but something
inside me felt as though I had not gone quite far enough. This was the
first time I had Eric's full attention. He was not smiling his smug little smile. He was not raking his bottom lip across his teeth while I was talking, just salivating
for his next opportunity to hear himself speak. He was completely open. Completely
receptive. For better or worse, I felt as though this were my first, and likely, my last chance, to actually be a teacher.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“The world doesn't need any more cynicism,” I said. “It needs
beauty. And insight. And originality. It doesn't need you."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I let him go, then looked out at the
class. They were all on their feet and terrified. I looked down at my hands,
suddenly so alien to me. Then I cleared my throat and cheerfully
proclaimed, “Okay, now for the Inciting Incident.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Everyone found their seats in a daze. Even Eric. I actually
continued with my lecture. I had said it so many times that I could
perform the entire thing from memory, on auto-pilot. This was helpful
because I spent the remainder of class periodically glancing over at
Eric to see how he was handling what had just happened. I expected him to get up and rush out at any moment. God knows I
would have if I were in his position. But Eric just sat at his desk,
hiding behind his notebook the whole time.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
At one point, Lisa touched Eric's shoulder and whispered, “Are you
okay?” but he shuddered away. I caught a glance of his face and saw
that his cheeks were red and swollen.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Class ended and most of the students left in hurry. Eric stayed. A
few students hovered around my table to catch Round Two, but I
shooed them out and closed the door behind them.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“I owe you an apology,” I said.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“You think?” he said.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“I'm sorry. As your teacher, I should have been more professional.
A lot more professional”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“Are you saying that because you don't want me to get you fired?”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“Are you kidding?” I said, “I fucking hate this job.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Eric looked at the desk and chuckled. Then he finally said,
“Language, professor.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
He gathered up his notebook and put it in his backpack, which he
slung over his shoulder. He looked at me with a little less
resentment than I would have expected.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“So, what's next?” I asked.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“I don't know.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“Do you still want me to be your teacher?” I asked.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
Eric thought about it for a moment.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="text-decoration: none;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="text-decoration: none;"> “Yeah,” he finally said. “You're
an </span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">okay</span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">
teacher.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="text-decoration: none;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="text-decoration: none;"> “Thanks,” I replied, “You're
an </span><i><span style="text-decoration: none;">okay</span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;">
student.”</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I walked him through the door.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“I got an idea for a movie,” he said.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“Yeah?”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“It's about this really belligerent community college professor
who goes way over the line.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I locked the door behind us and continued walking with him down the
hallway.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“Sounds great,” I said.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“Kind of like Dead Poets Society meets Scent Of A Woman,” he
said, then added, “Except, you know, not shitty.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I chuckled and shook my head. Goddamn Eric.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“I can't wait to read it,” I said.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“I'll bring in the first draft next week.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“A whole screenplay in one week, huh?”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
“No problem."</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
I shook my head and let out my own delighted little snicker.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
"Okay. Deal," I said.</div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Deal,” he replied.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12032308517159331209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1359630490984037636.post-72272098649216404432014-01-31T15:08:00.000-08:002014-01-31T15:08:33.767-08:00Small Town Hero<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Rising just shy of sixty
feet into the air, the Burger Tower's plastic sign was the tallest structure in
all of Abigail, Colorado. Milton Shirley could see the entire town from this
vantage. He stood watch for hours at a time, his blue cape flapping behind him
in the lazy summer breeze. He saw Mr. Philips getting his morning paper in his
bathrobe, six miles away. He saw Jayne Finch go into Barb's Beauty Salon, then
heard her ask for a wash and a color. He saw Drew Peters, Dave Mills, and Mayor
Theodore Bynes walking together outside the courthouse, all clad in sharp
looking suits and shiny shoes. Milton imagined all the fine citizens of his
beloved home town seeing him in the distance, a tiny blue spec standing atop
the Burger Tower sign, and feeling just a little safer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Why are you up there?”
Milton heard a voice ask from below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton looked down and
saw little Barry Thompson, sitting on his BMX at the edge of Burger Tower's
parking lot. Barry was twelve now, but Milton remembered when he was born. He
was a cute baby, but he cried often and was exceptionally loud. He was
especially bad at town functions like the Abigail Watermelon Eating Contest in
mid-June and the Abigail Folk and Bluegrass Festival in early September. Milton
loved every single one of the 739 citizens of Abigail, including Barry, but he
would be lying if he did not admit that the boy's incessant squealing and
whining as an infant, coupled with Milton's super hearing, made loving him a
bit of a challenge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Someone has to protect
the fine citizens of this great town, Barry,” said Milton.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Isn't that what the
police are for?” asked Barry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes, and a fine job they
do. I am happy and proud to assist them in any way I can.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“When was the last time
you stopped anyone from committing a crime?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“There's more to being a
hero than just crime fighting, Barry. There's also conflict resolution, search
and rescue, standing as a symbol for truth and justice--”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“--Yeah,” Barry said,
“But when was the last time you did any of that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It's not polite to interrupt,
Barry. I know your mother, Dianne, and your father, Edward, taught you better
than that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You don't do anything
but stand on that sign and freak everybody out,” said Barry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Who rescued that man who
drove over the railing and into Sherman's Gorge?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah, but--”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Who flew over and caught
his car before it crashed into the bottom of the ravine?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But that was, like,
three years ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I'm sure the driver of
that car appreciates those three extra years he got to live, thanks to my
heroic feats.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“The only reason he went
over the gorge in the first place was because he was probably distracted by you
standing on that sign.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That's quite a bit of
speculation on your part, Barry.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Why don't you just move
to LA or New York? Isn't that where all the super heroes go?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, those places are
really expensive to live, especially if I want to be a hero there. Besides, I
love it here. This town is perfect. Why would I ever leave?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Sounds to me like you're
just scared,” said Barry. “Like maybe you're afraid that you're not good enough
to make it in a real city.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton chuckled. “Well,”
he said, “We will see what you have to say the next time you're in trouble and
need my help. Now, if you'll excuse me, duty calls.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton leapt off the
Burger Tower sign and flew south-east, towards the faint sound of an elderly
woman calling out for help. Milton made it widely known to all the citizens of
Abigail that if they ever needed assistance, they need only call out, “Help me,
Justice Defender!” and in less than one minute, Milton would be by their side.
He could fly over 1,000 mph, which means he could completely traverse the
entire length of the county in less than one minute. He had promised Mayor
Bynes that he would not break the sound barrier anymore, though, since it
tended to startle some of the residents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton glided down and
landed softly onto the hardwood wrap around deck that Mr. Lancaster had built
twenty summers ago, before he died of a heart attack last April. Mrs. Lancaster
was there, knitting a sweater on her rocking chair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“How can I help you, Mrs.
Lancaster?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes, Milton,” she said,
“Thank God you've come. I don't know where else to turn. I need you to help me
with those pesky neighbors of mine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What seems to be the
trouble?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Take a look. They're having
some crazy barn-burner over there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton looked at the
neighbor's house across the street. He used his X-ray vision to peer through
the walls. He saw three couples hanging out in the living room and adjoined
kitchen. They were drinking beer and listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. <i>By
The Way</i>, if Milton wasn't mistaken. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“They seem to be just
hanging out with a few of their friends,” said Milton.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Look at all those cars
on the street. And you should see their recycling bin on Monday morning. It's
practically toppling over with beer bottles. I swear, it's like Sodom and
Gomorrah over there.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Mrs. Lancaster, don't
you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“My husband and I bought
this house forty-five years ago because we thought this neighborhood was
peaceful. You've got to talk to them, Milton. They won't listen to me. And the
police won't do anything, either. Sherif Roberts laughed at me when I called
him about it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Although Mrs. Lancaster
could be difficult at times, Milton regarded her as a sweet lady who had been
dealt a hard life. She was a widow with no children, few friends, and most of
her family had either died or fallen out of contact with her years ago. Milton
was the only person in her life who ever voluntarily spoke to her on a regular
basis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That's just terrible,
Mrs. Lancaster,” said Milton. “Let me see what I can do for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton crossed the street
and knocked on the neighbor's door. It was the Peterson residence. They were
new to town, having moved less than three months prior, so Milton knew less
about them than he did the rest of Abigail's citizens, whom he regarded as
extensions of his own family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The husband, Tyler,
answered the door. He was a tall guy, about thirty-years-old, with long blond
hair and a large square chin. He wore orange framed sunglasses and a white
tank-top that showed off his bulky suntanned shoulders and biceps. Milton
thought that to the outside observer, Tyler's physique made him look like more
of a super hero than Milton ever could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">This was the first time
Milton had met Tyler Peterson face-to-face, though he had been watching and
listening to him from a distance since they moved to Abigail. From what Milton
could piece together from overheard conversations between Tyler and his new
co-workers in the past few months, he was a former software developer from Los
Angeles, but he and his wife recently decided to start a family and they didn't
want to raise a child in a huge Mega-City, so they packed up and moved to
Abigail, Colorado. He took a job managing the town's sole internet provider,
Speedtel, and she sold homemade jewelry on the Internet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton also knew that
Tyler had begun having an affair with the Speedtel receptionist, an attractive
girl named Bailey Willis, who was in Milton's graduating high school class ten
years ago. Armed with this relatively minimal amount of information, Milton
proceeded with caution.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes?” said Tyler.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Mr. Peterson. We haven't
met yet, but you may have heard of me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh, yeah. You're the,
uh, local super hero dude. Captain Justice or..?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Justice Defender. Yes.
That's me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That's great!” said
Tyler, then hollered into the kitchen, “Laura, that super hero dude is here!
Come on in. You want a drink? Laura, get Justice Defender a beer, will you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Thank you. I'd love to
come in, but I'm afraid I shouldn't drink while I'm on duty.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Laura approached Milton
with a Corona. “I was wondering when we were going to meet you,” said Laura.
“We see you all the time standing on that burger sign.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Thank you. Thank you
very much, but I'm afraid that I'm actually here on official business.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What's up?” asked Tyler.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, one of your
neighbors has complained about your party.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tyler and Laura looked at
each other. Their mood changed instantly. Tyler frowned and set his beer down
hard on an end table, spilling a few drops. “You've got to be kidding me,” he
said. “That chick just doesn't let up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I don't want to name
names,” said Milton.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh, you don't have to,”
said Laura. “We know exactly who it is. It's that old bat across the street.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What's her problem
anyway? A few of our friends from LA are staying with us for a couple weeks.
The music isn't even that loud.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No, I think she's more
upset about the amount of cars on the street,” said Milton.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh, my god,” said Laura.
“She's insane.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, that's why I'm
here, to help you all find a compromise to resolve this conflict.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I've got your compromise
right here,” said Tyler. “You go tell that old bag to get a life of her own.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Or hurry up and die,”
muttered Laura.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tyler laughed and
repeated his wife's sentiment in a louder, unashamed voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Okay, Mr. and Mrs.
Peterson, I know you don't want to wish death on anyone right now. Go ahead and
take that back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Take it back?” asked
Laura. “No. I'm in my house. I can say whatever I want. That woman has done
nothing but make our lives hell since we moved here. She's just a nasty old
bitch. For all I care, she can just fuck off and die.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Amen!” said Tyler,
picking up his beer and taking a long enthusiastic gulp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Obviously you guys have
had a few. I know you don't really mean that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tyler looked at Milton.
“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I'm just saying, you
seem like nice folks. I think if you weren't impaired right now, you probably
wouldn't say something like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tyler nodded and turned
his anger into a friendly grin. He took a step closer to Milton.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You're right. I should
drink less. I'm gonna get started on that right now.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tyler dumped the rest of
his beer on Milton's head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Laura and the other
couples all exploded with laughter. Milton wiped the beer out of his eyes. It
didn't sting a bit. Not physically, anyway. Milton's body was impervious to
most pain, but his ego was a different story. He saw the two other men doubled
over in the kitchen, practically falling to their knees from laughing so hard.
The two women on the couch were laughing so much that their mascara started to
run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“How dare you come into
my house and tell me how to act?” asked Tyler. “Who the hell do you think you
are?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I'm just doing my job,
sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Your job? I'm sorry, but
are you getting paid for this? Do you write 'Super Hero and Parking Monitor' on
your 1099?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton shook his head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You're nothing but a
loser who prances around in a cheap Halloween costume. You're nobody.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton's super senses
allowed him to watch Tyler's fight-or-flight response unfold in vivid detail.
He saw through Tyler's abdomen, to the adrenal glands resting just above his
kidneys, releasing torrents of epinephrine into his bloodstream as his
digestive tract halted to provide more energy to his extremities. He watched
the muscles in Tyler's arms tighten beneath his skin. Tyler's breathing
increased, his heart accelerated, his pupils dilated, and his fists clenched.
It certainly appeared that Tyler was leaning more towards “fight,” rather than
“flight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton sighed. Some days,
being a super hero was the most rewarding thing he could imagine doing with his
life. Other days – most days, to be honest – it was dull, demeaning, and
infuriating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton wanted to fight
Tyler. He wanted to show everyone in that house exactly what he was capable of
doing, but this was not an option. He had made a promise, and Milton Shirley
always kept his promises.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I'm sorry to have
offended you, Mr. Peterson,” said Milton. “I hope you can forgive me. I'll be
going now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah. Fuck off, Captain
Douche Bag,” said Laura.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton stepped out of the
house and closed the front door gently. He heard the deadbolt lock as he
crossed the street back over to Mrs. Lancaster's deck, who was still knitting
on her rocking chair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What'd they say?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well,” said Milton,
“Basically, they said that it's their house and they're not breaking any laws
by having company over. And I'm sorry, Mrs. Lancaster, but I have to admit,
they have a point.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Why do you smell like
beer? Were you drinking, Milton?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No. No, ma'am.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Then why do I smell beer
on you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton reluctantly
explained how Mr. Peterson didn't appreciate a comment he had made and dumped a
bottle of beer on his head. Mrs. Lancaster huffed and began rocking back and
forth, gaining momentum to stand up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No, Mrs. Lancaster. It's
okay. It's just a little beer. It's not a big deal.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Baloney!” she said,
grabbing her walker and standing with great effort. “After everything you've
done for this town, they need to respect you. Help me down the stairs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton helped Mrs.
Lancaster down the steps and across the street, trying to talk her out of going
the whole way. She knocked on their door hard enough to crack her brittle
knuckles. Laura answered and immediately began laughing when she saw who it
was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Is she your grandma or
something?” Laura asked, then called for her husband, “Babe, come see who it
is.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tyler came to the door
and joined his wife in laughing at Milton and Mrs. Lancaster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You've got to be kidding
me, bro. Please, tell me you're kidding.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I think you owe Justice
Defender an apology,” said Mrs. Lancaster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton stayed quiet,
partially because he was so humiliated, but also because he genuinely would
have enjoyed hearing that apology.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well?” asked Mrs.
Lancaster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, what?” asked
Tyler. “He's lucky he got off that easy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh, reeeaaally? You
think so, huh? You think you can <i>hurt</i> Justice Defender? I would love to
see you try.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Mrs. Lancaster, please,
there's no need for this to get violent,” said Milton. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I dare you to hit him as
hard as you can,” said Mrs. Lancaster. “Right in the face. I dare you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Okay, let's get you back
home now,” said Milton.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah, go climb back into
the cold grave you came from,” said Tyler.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mrs. Lancaster tried to
slap Tyler across his face, but she couldn't reach passed her walker. “Come
here, you!” she shrieked, bearing at him a decade of neglected yellow and black
teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yo, get that crazy bitch
off my property.” said Tyler.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Okay, Mrs. Lancaster.
Let's go now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Milton is a good boy,”
she said, “He's a good boy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Milton? Ha! Of course
his name's Milton. That's so perfect.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tyler slammed the door.
Mrs. Lancaster leaned backwards, resting her back against Milton's chest. Her
eyes glazed and she muttered “He's a good boy.” Then she shook her head and
grumbled a soft, urgent plea, which Milton, even with his super hearing,
couldn't decipher.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What was that, Mrs.
Lancaster?” Milton asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Her jaw hung open like a
broken hinge. He saw her eyes drift to the back of her head like wayward
wanderers. Again, a single word fell out of her mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Pills,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mrs. Lancaster collapsed
into Milton's arms. She was unconscious. Milton carried her over to the lawn,
calling out to the Petersons,“Help! Hey! Help! Something's wrong, please!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">There was no response.
Milton tried to wake her up, frantically asking, “Which pills? Where are they?
Which ones?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Again, no response.
Milton laid Mrs. Lancaster down gently on the grass and then ran across the
street, bursting straight through her front door, reducing it to splinters. He
then ran through the house, looking for the pills. He found six prescriptions
in the medicine cabinet, but had no idea which one she needed. He gathered them
up, then ran back to the Peterson's house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When Milton got back to
Mrs. Lancaster, the door was open and Tyler Peterson was standing above her,
looking confused and vaguely frightened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What happened?” he
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Call an ambulance!”
shouted Milton. “And bring me some water!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tyler disappeared back
into the house and Milton got down on his hands and knees, cradling Mrs.
Lancaster in his lap. “Wake up. Come on. Wake up, Mrs. Lancaster. Which pills
do you need?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Laura Peterson came
outside with a glass of water and stood over them. “Why don't you just fly her
to the hospital?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“She's too frail,” said
Milton. “Wake up, ma'am. Please wake up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mrs. Lancaster opened her
eyes and looked at Milton.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Which pills do you
need?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She reached out for his
right hand. He was holding three bottles between his fingers on each hand. He
dropped all the pills in his left hand and pointed to the ones in his right.
“Which one is it? This one? This one?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She couldn't speak. She
shook her head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“None of these? Is it
still in the house? I'll be right back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton started to get up,
but Mrs. Lancaster held his hand as tight as she could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I'll be right back,” he
repeated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mrs. Lancaster shook her
head again. She pulled his hand up to cradle her chin. She closed her eyes and
her lips curled into something like a smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It's okay,” she said,
“It's okay. Just hold me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton held Mrs.
Lancaster as she slipped away. He looked through her home-knitted sweater,
through her cotton brassier, her skin, and her ribcage. He watched as her
muscles relaxed and her heart slowed. He heard her breathing become even more
labored and shallow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tyler came back outside.
“The ambulance is on its way,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I know,” said Milton. “I
can hear them. They aren't going to make it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It was a hot, cloudless
day in early June. Milton leaned over Mrs. Lancaster to shade her from the
harsh sun. He whispered to her that he was sorry. Tomorrow, when news spread
around Abigail that old Mrs. Lancaster had passed away, everyone would do what
they were supposed to do. They would say how sad it was, but then conclude that
she was seventy-six years old, after all, and this was to be expected. As much
as Milton loved the people of Abigail, and all people for that matter, he knew
that they had the luxury of not knowing what he knew, of not seeing what he
saw. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton watched Mrs.
Lancaster's body shut down, piece by piece. He felt her skin cool. He watched
her heart stop. A few seconds later, he smelled her bowels release. Then, a few
minutes after that, just as the ambulance turned onto their street, Milton saw
the last glimmer of electricity flicker across in her brain, then go completely
dark.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The population of
Abigail, Colorado was reduced to 738.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">After the paramedics
loaded Mrs. Lancaster's body into the ambulance, they drove away, wailing their
siren and barreling towards the hospital, as if something could still be done.
Milton wiped the tears away from his eyes. He didn't bother to look back at the
Petersons. He assumed that they must have felt the appropriate amount of guilt
and shame for wishing death on the woman only a few short moments before it
actually happened on their very lawn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton was wrong in this
assumption.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well, at least that's
over,” Laura whispered to her husband, under her breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah,” agreed Tyler.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They said it faintly,
barely audible for normal people, even at close range. Milton was used to
hearing people saying things – often horrible things – when they thought no one
was listening. Milton felt guilty for invading so many people's privacy, albeit
unintentionally. He also felt that it was wrong for him to judge them. In most
circumstances, Milton tried to understand the horrible things people said and
did to one another and made it a rule to never interfere in any way with their
personal lives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">This rule, however,
Milton did occasionally break in moments of great stress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton turned around and
marched back towards the couple. He stood just a few feet away from where Mrs.
Lancaster had died.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“There's something you
two should know,” Milton said, then turned to Laura. “Tyler has been having sex
with a girl at his work named Bailey Willis.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What?!” said Laura.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“It's true. Also, she's
gorgeous and they've done <i>everything,</i>” Milton Added.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“This guy's crazy!” said
Tyler, turning to his wife and throwing his hands up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“And you should know,”
Milton continued, addressing Tyler. “Bailey Willis has genital herpes. She got
them Junior year of high school from a guy named Kevin Driscoll.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh, God, Tyler. Please
tell me this isn't true.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Whoa, you can't listen
to him. He couldn't even possibly know all that even if it were true, which
it's totally not.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I saw the whole thing
happen,” said Milton, then began walking away. He got to the end of their
driveway, then turned back around.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Besides,” he added,
“Abigail is a small town. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Everybody</i>
knows about Bailey Willis.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Milton flew into the sky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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