Trigger Warning: The content may not be suitable for children or those with a fragile psyche

Cardboard

I cannot remember how I became a Television-Repair-Specialist, but I imagine I was informed in a letter. This imaginary letter read: Congratulations you have been selected as the newest Television-Repair-Specialist, to work at our company, Television Repair, starting tomorrow.

The television I was to repair was located in a home, in a suburb, just off an endless highway. I parked my car and got out. I retrieved my case containing my Television-Repair-Tools and knocked on the door. The house was painted a bright blue, just like all the other houses, and the grass was plastic. An older woman answered the door. She had a face like rubber stretched too thin.

“Please come in,” she said, and I did.

She took a seat near the television and watched me as I worked.

I looked at her television. Her television was made of cardboard. It was broken.

“I can see the problem here ma’am, the cardboard of your television is worn thin and there are a few holes where moths have eaten through. There is too much damage for your television to work. If you are attached to your television’s hardware, I am happy to fill in the holes and thinning areas, but I do recommend replacing all the damaged cardboard. You will notice a great improvement,” I said.

“Either way,” said the woman.

I took out my tools and materials, which included: sandpaper, wood filler, a precision knife, and rectangular strips of pristine cardboard. Thankfully the backing of the television was in good shape, and only two of the television’s sides needed to be fully replaced. I measured one cardboard strip, then cut it down to size so it would fit in the space made by the soon to be removed cardboard. I removed the tattered and worn strip of cardboard and inserted the replacement cardboard.

“You are not a Television-Repair-Specialist,” said the woman.

I turned to look at her. She sat very still as if she were made of glass.

 “I don’t understand. I am a Television-Repair-Specialist, I work for Television Repair,” I said.

“You may have the tools of a Television-Repair-Specialist, you may work for Television Repair, you may know how to repair televisions, but you are not a Television-Repair-Specialist.”

I tried to ignore her comment, and returned to my work. I replaced the final cardboard strip. I removed all the old tape that kept the pieces of the cardboard together and replaced them with new highly adhesive tape. I used wood filler to smooth out any uneven areas, then carefully sanded them down.

“Alright, your television should work fine now,” I said.

“You are not a Television-Repair-Specialist.”

“We greatly appreciate your business. As a token of our gratitude, we at Television Repair have brought you two complimentary channels.” I opened my case and pulled out one of the channels. It was a scene of a tranquil pond with a few ducks frozen in place. I slotted the channel into the back of the television.

“This is my favorite channel. I watch it all the time. Doesn’t it fill you with calm?”

The cars driving down that nearby endless highway sounded like static.

“You are not a Television-Repair-Specialist,” she said again.

There was nothing I could be but a Television-Repair-Specialist, but the more she said that I was not, the less certain I became. If I was not a Television-Repair-Specialist, what was I?

I quickly picked up my things and got out of there.

I had a few more television repairs that day, or that was my final one, but either way I drove to a liquor store and purchased a fifth of whiskey.

I had all these empty fifths lined up on my floor in front of the window.

I had to finish this fifth soon, so I could add it to my collection.

They just looked so beautiful

Early in the morning

When the sun was just beginning to rise

And the yellow rays touched

Their empty glass

END

Figurines

I had an hour before I was going to see her. An hour was too much time to do nothing, so I went into my closet and got out all my little figurines. They were good figurines. They all looked just like tiny people frozen in space. I began to set them up. I always set them up in the same way. When I was finished, I looked at them. There was a husband and wife arguing, their eyes screwed up with rage and accusation. There was a man mowing his lawn. There was a child who had tripped and fallen but had not yet begun to cry. There was a woman laying alone in her bed, considering if it was worth the effort to get up and make coffee. There was a dog barking at nothing. There was a person who didn’t know anything at all.

There were all kinds of little figurines.

I looked at them for a while, then I put them all back in their proper place inside of my closet. Then it was time to leave.

I walked until I came to her apartment. The front door was open, so I went inside. When I reached her floor, I could hear loud arguing from behind the door next to the room of the woman who I was to see.

The arguing was so loud that I worried I would not be able to enjoy the time I was to spend with the woman who I was to see, so I knocked on the door where the arguing came from. There was no answer. I tried the handle. It was unlocked. I opened the door and went inside. The room was entirely empty except for a table and a speaker on top of that table, where the voices were coming from. The voices sounded like a husband and wife arguing.

“I just can’t do it anymore,” said one of the voices.

“You always say that,” said the other voice.

The voices kept saying other things as well, until I turned off the speaker. When I turned off the speaker, not only did the voices stop, but everything became quiet. I couldn’t even hear the birds that were always singing their ugly songs at this time of day.

 I left that empty room, and knocked gently on the adjacent door, the one owned by woman who I was to see.

She opened the door.

She had very large eyes, and she was smiling as if she hadn’t slept for a while.

“Come in,” she said, and I did.

She sat down on the bed, and I sat down next to her. I didn’t know what to do so I stared at my hands.

Then she laid down and I laid down next to her.

She put her arms around me.

“Well, this is nice,” I thought, and I closed my eyes for a bit.

When I opened my eyes, she was no longer there.

I didn’t understand what had happened, but then I looked around the room and saw a chair that had not been there before, and I understood what had happened.

She had turned into a chair, but not just a chair, she had also turned into a completely different room, with different furniture, and a window that looked out on a different scene where it was no longer overcast and mid-day but instead night and raining heavily.

 I got up and walked over to the window.

Across the way I saw a flickering neon sign, too far away for me to read.

I stared at that neon sign

Advertising something I would never know

As the rain beat down incessantly

As I wondered if there was any place

Nearby

To get a drink

END