The Automatic Door

Paolo stood on the sidewalk in front of the Walgreens and let loose a big sigh.

“Come on,”  he muttered to himself, squinting his eyes so he could see the “Automatic Door” sticker.  If he had fingers, he would cross them, but elephants don’t usually have fingers.  He wracked his brain for something to cross.  He briefly considered getting a rabbit’s foot, but found that kind of thing to be a bit morbid.

He lifted his front foot and inhaled deeply.

“Here we go.”  He stepped down on the “enter” mat.

Nothing.

He squinted extra hard, double checking to see if the door had opened.  No dice.  Even with his glasses on, he had to squint most of the time to see clearly.  This, he thought, hurt his chances with the ladies.  None of the hot elephant chicks want to be with an elephant who is squinting all the time.  But today, he couldn’t even get the automatic door to notice him.

“I guess I don’t really need to replace my electrolytes.”  He thought with a sigh.  “I’ll just get some water at home.”

Paolo was an avid yogi, prefering to take the morning hot yoga class taught by his friend, Lauren.  He was usually the only male in the class, which, he thought, made for good odds.  Today, he was just glad he didn’t trip on his trunk like he did 2 weeks ago.  Hopefully people had forgotten about that whole episode by now.

“At least they noticed,”  He thought, smiling briefly.  But this isn’t necessarily the kind of attention he wanted.

Paolo had a long history of going unnoticed.  He once sat at a table in the local diner for nearly 2 hours before a the server realized she hadn’t greeted him.  He figured as long as they were cool with him sitting there without buying anything, he could use the break.  When he as a senior in high school, he mustered up the courage to sing at the annual talent show, but they wouldn’t let him onstage because they didn’t think he was a student at that school (even though the MC sat in front of him in homeroom for the previous 3 years).  He once convinced himself for three months that he was Naldo’s imaginary friend, instead of just his best friend, since Naldo seemed to be the only one who really noticed Paolo.

Naldo was the kind of elephant that most people noticed.  The females swooned over his dashing good looks, not to mention his being named firefighter of the year 2 years in a row.  Paolo appreciated all the things that Naldo did for him, from taking him along when the other firefighters wanted to cruise up and down Hennepin Av and run the siren, to going down with Paolo to the coffee shop on the corner to watch the cute brunette Paolo had a crush on make espresso.

“You should really just go introduce yourself.”  Naldo once told him.

“I have,” Paolo replied, “five or six times.”

Paolo could hear the phone ringing in his apartment when he walked up to the door.  He fumbled with his keys a bit, reminding himself that he wanted to paint them different colors so he didn’t have to squint so hard to tell them apart.  He made it in just in time to catch the call from Lauren.

“You didn’t stay after class.”  She scolded.

“Yeah, I went down to The Wal to get a drink, but, you know, the door.”  He explained.  “And I didn’t want to wait for someone else to come by just so I could walk in behind them.”

“That thing is weird.  They should really fix it or something.  You and Naldo having lunch?”  She asked.

“We were just gonna go down to the coffee shop, I’m gonna hop in the shower really quick.  You wanna come?”

“To stare at the espresso girl?  Sure, I’ll meet you in front of your building in a bit.”

As they strolled into the coffee shop, Paolo trying his best to look casual, they ordered their drinks and scoped out a table with a clear view of the espresso machine.

“Dude, just go over there.”  Nudged Naldo.

“She looks good today.” Paolo said, squinting.

“I bet she knows who you are,” Lauren chimed in, “you guys are in here enough.”

“She probably has some stupid nickname for me like ’squinty’ or ‘goggles’.”  Paolo groaned.

Just then, the espresso girl’s angelic voice rang out, “One soy mocha, One light and sweet, and a caramel hot chocolate!”

Paolo popped up, sucked in his gut and took a step before noticing that Naldo and Lauren were still sitting down.  “You guys comin’?”

“Actually,” Naldo said with a twinkle in his eye, “I’m pretty comfy.  How ’bout you, Lauren?”

“Yeah, did they reupholster these chairs?  This is NICE.”  Replied Lauren.

“GUYS!” Paolo whispered urgently through his teeth, his gut returning to its usual state.

“You mind?  Our drinks are getting cold.” Naldo said with a smile.

“This is being a good wingman?”  Paolo said, shaking his head.  “Fine.”

As he turned and sucked in his gut for a second time, he thought, “You’re just a regular guy, getting his hot chocolate.  A very manly and sexy hot chocolate.  With caramel.  Cuz you’re sweet.  You’re a sweet chocolate drinking god among elephants.  You are the Ganesh of hot chocolate.”

He strolled up to the counter, extra casually.  He hovered his trunk above the three drinks, finally locating his.  He picked the three up and carefully headed back to the table, not squinting enough to see the smile on the espresso girl’s face.

“I gave you an extra pump of caramel, I hope you don’t–”

“Huh?” Paolo said, startled, and turning his head just enough to pour some hot chocolate down the front of his shirt.

“Oh, my god,” exclaimed the espresso girl, grabbing a rag.

Naldo and Lauren, who had been watching on the edge of their newly reupholstered seats, were by Paolo’s side in no time.  They took their drinks from his trunk, and before the espresso girl could dab the chocolate from his shirt, Paolo had beelined it to the bathroom.

“I’m really sorry.”  Apologized the espresso girl.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Lauren soothed, “He didn’t really like that shirt anyway.”  She grabbed the rag from the espresso girl and wiped up a few drops of caramel hot chocolate from the floor.

Naldo decided it was time to take a chance.  “That’s our friend–”

“His name’s Paolo, right?” The espresso girl interrupted, “yeah, you guys are in here a lot.  He’s always caramel hot chocolate, and you’re, uh, cream and sugar, right? “

“Light and sweet, that’s my drink.” Naldo confirmed.  “You know, he’s usually not this clumsy.  But something happens to him when he’s around girls he’s attracted to.”

“Really?” She asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

‘Yeah, he didn’t think you even knew his name.” Replied Naldo.

“That would explain why he keeps introducing himself.  I thought he kept forgetting.”  She said with a smile.

“That’d be ironic.”  Naldo quipped.  As they both chuckled lightly, Paolo emerged from the bathroom.  He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the cute espresso girl sharing a laugh with his best friend.

“Oh, hey, dude,” Naldo began.

Before Naldo could say another word, Paolo was out the door and almost halfway down the block, taunted by the Walgreens’ unflinching automatic door as he passed.  Naldo hurried after him, managing to catch up with him just as he shut the door to his apartment, nearly catching Naldo’s trunk in the door.  Naldo heard Paolo lock the door, but continued to call after him.

“Dude!  She knows your name!  I think she likes you!”

Naldo put his big flat ear to the door and heard Paolo sobbing somewhere on the other side.  Sobbing so loud, in fact, that Paolo didn’t hear Naldo’s attempts at consolation.

Three days had passed and 27 missed calls registered on Paolo’s cell phone.  Naldo, determined to set things right with his friend, was slumped against the wall in the hallway of Paolo’s building drifting in and out of sleep.  Next to him was Lauren, curled up in a ball, wheezing with every sleepy breath, her throat sore from trying to reason with Paolo’s apartment door.  Paolo, with three days’ stubble on his tiny elephat chin, sat weary-eyed against the wall in his apartment amid piles of Reese’s wrappers, several empty jars of crunchy Jif, and even an old Fedex box that used to be full of packing peanuts.  His nearly useless eyes were tired and his cheeks were encrusted with dried tears.  Then through the open window, came a waft of air.

Coffee.

The coffee shop had opened with the first rays of sunshine peeking through Paolo’s windows.  The smell was so intoxicating that the thoughts he had been wallowing in for three days, the “backstabbing best friend” and the “he -who has everything- couldn’t let me have just one thing” thoughts, nearly disappeared from his mind.  The sunlight slapped him across the face and woke him up from his trance.  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.  Coffee.  The smell connected him to thoughts of love.  And when he opened his eyes, his own reflection was staring back at him from the TV across the room.  Paolo squinted at his reflection and the reflection squinted back.

“What are you doing?”  The reflection said with judgment in its voice.

“Having a pity party, I guess.”  Paolo replied.

“Well, sure, you’ve always been the guy that’s rolled over and taken it from everybody else.”  The reflection declared.  “Why should this be any different?”

“I just needed a couple days to… I dunno.”  Paolo tried, running out of steam.

“The difference between you and a doormat,” the reflection hammered away, “is that a doormat can’t get up and walk away.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Time to get up off the mat, there, buckaroo.”

“Huh?”

“The only thing keeping you here is you.”  The reflection waxed.  “I think some coffee could do you some good.”

Paolo knew his reflection was right.  For a brief moment, he pondered whether or not he had just been conversing with his own blurry reflection.  Then the moment passed and he knew what he wanted to do.

He inhaled deeply.

Naldo woke up, startled by Paolo’s door closing, and he finally oriented himself in time to see Paolo’s hind legs stepping out the front door to the building.  He shook Lauren awake and they followed the determined pachyderm down the street.  Paolo was determined to get the espresso girl to notice him.  He was determined to make an impression.  He was determined that he would receive one of the most spectacular beat-downs at the hands of Love, but that was the risk he was willing to take to be happy.  Paolo was so determined, in fact, that he didn’t notice that as he passed the Walgreens on his way to his destiny, the automatic door opened.

President Barack Obama vs. President Josiah Bartlet

My poverty of late has kept me in my apartment with my West Wing DVD set.  And with all this history spreading like a bad cold, I couldn’t help but think that there’s a distinct possibility that President Barack Obama is, in fact, the real life version of the fictional President on The West Wing, Jed Barlet.

Both are liberal Democrats.

Both are known to be dynamic public speakers.

Both were seen as underdogs at the beginning of their campaigns.

Neither served in the Armed Forces and they both have been criticized because of it.

Both have really cool wives.

Both are closet smokers.

Both have multiple daughters and no sons.

They are both uncompromisingly intelligent to the point that people call them elitist.

I’m sure there’s more, but I’m only half way thru the 3rd season so we’ll just have to see how this thing unfolds.

The Beautiful Sumo

The crowd cheered.  Between the bragging I-told-you-so’s, the frustrated crinkles of money changing hands, and the sounds of sake cups hitting the table surfaces, a small awestruck girl squinted her eyes and peered through a crack in the wall.  The greatest Sumo in the history of the sport remained undefeated.

Aiko had aspirations to, one day, be a great Sumo wrestler.  She closed her eyes and imagined that the cheers she heard through the walls of the arena were for her.  When she listened closely, she could even her them chanting her name.  Only one small detail stood in her way: Women were not even allowed inside the dohyo to watch the match, let alone participate in one.

But Aiko was a good student.  She found the crack in the arena where she watched, describing the match a handful of other women, as opponent after opponent fell under the strength and savvy of her idol.  She would go out to the river and imitate the powerful sidesteps, the fancy footwork, and the feats of strength that unfolded before her night after night in the dohyo.

Soon she was challenging the bigger girls to makeshift sumo matches that took place in the small dark corners of the arena’s alleyways.  After a while, they became well known throughout Osaka, and people came from all over, wagering the food they had stolen that day.  Many of them left with empty stomachs, but with warm hearts.

Wanting to make herself stronger, Aiko happily ate all her winnings and developed a strict workout regimen.  Yet despite gorging herself each and every night, she never seemed to gain the weight she so desperately desired, a quality that made her victories much more surprising to those who came to watch her.  Defeating women twice or even three times her size, she immersed herself in the world of Sumo, leaving behind the days of scrounging for food with her friends on the streets.

“One day, I will be the greatest sumo ever to compete in this arena.”  She dreamed.

That day soon arrived.  Aiko had gained enough fame and notoriety to be approached by the owners of the dohyo, who had decided, finally, to let women inside to watch the matches.  Part of the celebration was to hold the first official Onna-Zumo match, the first women’s sumo competition.

The moment she stepped into the arena, she felt as though her dreams were within reach.  They announced her name, and as she approached the ring, she could hear some in the crowd snicker, “This is the famous Aiko?”  “How puny!” “The small one will lose for sure!”

“I’ll show them,” she thought to herself.

Her beautiful brown eyes went blood red as she rushed her opponent.  Aiko hit her with the force of a frightened water buffalo, and for a moment Aiko’s opponent seemed to hang in the air before finding herself intimately familiar with the dohyo floor.  The crowd fell silent.  And as she stood over the aching body of her opponent in the middle of the dohyo, she watched as the gaping mouths turned to smiles, which turned to cheers and claps, and soon the entire dohyo was chanting her name.

She became known as the Beautiful Sumo, because while other women sumo wrestlers each achieved the imposing size of a true sumo, she retained her beauty and demure figure.  Soon she had many suitors; one in particular, named Tadaki, who would write her the most beautiful letters.  Poetry, prose, sometimes just his thoughts on a page, she adored them all.  He sent her a bouquet of sunflowers once a week that she kept in a special vase in her private room in the arena.

She could feel herself begin to fall for Tadaki, but she was afraid that starting a new relationship might diminish her love for the world of Sumo.  Yet, he continued to write to her and send her flowers.  He would sit in the same place in the arena, and their eyes would meet from time to time.

Many who saw her compete compared her to a Kamikaze, a divine wind, toppling some of the tallest, thickest trees that stood in her way.  Her opponents each fell under her mighty kamikaze and it was believed that she might even surpass her idol’s winning record.

Tadaki tried harder and harder to win her affections, but she remained unresponsive, fearful of what might happen if she were to indulge her desire to find happiness with a man.

One day, she entered the arena and, as usual, looked in the direction of Tadaki’s seat, only to find an empty place.  A momentary sadness washed over her.

When she turned and looked at her opponent across the dohyo, she was surprised to see a beautiful young girl looking back at her.

“Is this who they are bringing in to wrestle against me?” She thought with a chuckle, “I’ve defeated women twice her size and three times as ugly.”

In the blink of an eye, Aiko found herself flat on her back in the middle of the dohyo.

The crowd fell silent.

Aiko, stunned, looked around and could see the gaping mouths turn to smiles, which turned to cheers and claps, and soon the entire dohyo was chanting a name that she didn’t recognize.  She immediately challenged her opponent to a rematch and found herself, once again, flat on her back.

Ashamed, the Beautiful Sumo picked herself up off the floor and walked somberly to her private room.  When she arrived, her spirits were lifted when she found a letter from Tadaki leaning against the vase of wilting sunflowers.  Her smile slowly turned itself upside down as she read how Tadaki had decided, after months of trying, to let her go.

She gathered her things and stepped back out into the hallway, only to find herself face to face with her opponent, Kiyoko.

“Congratulations on a good match…” Kiyoko started.

“Is it not enough that you have embarrassed me in front of an arena full of people?” Aiko snapped.

Quietly, Kiyoko replied, “We all lose from time to time.  The way we conduct ourselves…”

“Not me.” Aiko said, cutting Kiyoko off.  “I have never lost before today.”

“Aiko, your name will always be uttered with great respect.  The people still love you.  You are a pioneer.  None of us would even be here if it weren’t for you…” Kiyoko answered.

“And how happy you must be to have used me as a stepstool.” She said, angrily choking back a tear.

“I am honored to compete along side you.” Replied Kiyoko.  “You will persevere.  Someone like you does not come this far…”

“What do you know about me?!” Aiko snapped as she stormed down the hall.

“I know that you are the most powerful sumo in all of Japan.” Kiyoko quietly replied.  “But as the saying goes, ‘a strong wind can uproot a tree, but the tall grass remains.’”

Aiko went down to the river, and for a short time, considered throwing herself into it.  Instead, she sat under a tree, clutching the final letter from Tadaki, and cried.

The following night, a distraught and teary-eyed Aiko snuck back into the arena to watch the match.  For the first time in years, she crept down to the small crack underneath the arena where she had watched so many matches.  She watched with sadness and bitterness as the crowds cheered for Kiyoko the same way they had cheered for her.  When the match started, Aiko watched as Kiyoko seemed to dance around the dohyo while her opponents fell around her.  She defeated her opponent not by overpowering her, but by moving with her.

Aiko realized, in that moment, that it was true: a strong wind could topple trees, but the grass survives by accepting the wind’s power and flowing with it.  She had spent her entire life pushing things away instead of moving gracefully with what life gave to her.  And as she peered once again through the crack in the wall, she clutched Tadaki’s letter tightly in her fist and mourned the life that once was:

“When you’ve built your whole life on pushing people away, it’s difficult to imagine that anything else could work.”

Something’s happening and I don’t know what

There’s a girl I know (for the sake of anonymity, we’ll call her “Sheila”) who’s basically the type of girl who’s stuck being the popular kid in high school. She’s in her 20s and, for lack of a better description, is a lot like Paris Hilton. My opinion. We’ll just leave it at that.

She got married a few months ago, which was a surprise to me since I’d never met the guy, heard his name, even heard that they were dating. So that suggests to me that it was a whirlwind romance type of thing. From what I hear, people were taking bets on how long this thing would last. Anyway, like I said, this was the first I’d heard of the guy. Actually, I found out on Facebook that they were getting married.

Oh, Facebook. How I love thee.

Within the last few days a couple of interesting status changes have taken place over Facebook. First,
Sheila went back to just using her maiden name. Then she changed her relationship status to show that she was no longer married. Then she changed her relationship status to show that she’s engaged to someone else who, I’m told, is gay. I’m also friends with her sister on Facebook, who changed her status to say “[Sheila's Sister] is loving her sister, [Sheila's Husband] sucks balls!” Intriguing? Maybe. Overly Dramatic? Definitely.

So while all of this is taking place in Cyberspace, I’m sure that there are 2 people, with several more along the periphery, who are going through something terrible. Or not. Maybe this is just a publicity stunt. But it just feels like they’re airing out their dirty laundry for everyone to see. And it’s probably making it worse for everyone involved.

I don’t know why Sheila just doesn’t write it all down in a note or blog and post it to her profile page. She’s basically vying for everyone’s attention anyway with all these shenanigans about being engaged to some other guy after she’d been married for a couple months. Or maybe she wants to seem slutty. Or like she cheated. Her call. Does she want me to write her and say something pitying?

I sincerely hope that whatever they’re going through turns out for the best. I just don’t need to see it in various forms over Facebook. That shit is just childish and passive aggressive and petty. And she is just bringing this on herself. Hmmm. Maybe the Paris Hilton thing was closer than I thought.

A Very Small Mouse with Very Expressive Eyebrows

There was once a very small mouse with very expressive eyebrows. He was, indeed, very small–even for a mouse–and he had grown accustomed to being looked over, stepped over, and spoken over. He sometimes dreamed that his superpower was the ability to make himself invisible since so many moments in the day left him feeling as though he was invisible in plain sight. The few times when he had other mice’s attention, he would inevitably catch a case of the stutters, so it would take him a very long time to say anything. So he decided that if he wanted to say something, it had better be important enough to take a very long time to say.

Many other mice grew impatient with him and would assume they understood what he was getting at, most likely because of his very expressive eyebrows, or so he thought. What they didn’t know is that the world in which he lived was one of beautiful poetic verses and vivid daydreams, and he would sometimes marvel at the fact that no one else seemed to notice how amazing the life around them was.

Despite the fact that he was very small and would often catch a case of the stutters, the thoughts that would pop into his head were grandiose in scale and more vibrant than the patch of beautiful flowers that he passed every day in the park near his house. He longed for the day when someone would really take the time to hear him.

He carried with him a small journal, which he used to jot down any thoughts that would pop into his head before they disappeared back into the universe, and soon his journal was full of all the magnificent thoughts he had been able to jot down before they disappeared again.

One day, as he strolled by the beautiful purple tulips in the park, some of his favorites, he had the most magnificent thought pop into his head. Quickly, he reached into his bag, hoping to jot down this thought before it melted away. He knew just where his journal should be and when he reached for it, it wasn’t there. It was too late, anyway, because just as he wondered where his journal had gone, he realized that his magnificent thought was gone, too.

A few days passed and with every glorious thought that popped into his head, the very small mouse’s very expressive eyebrows drooped with sadness, knowing full well that since he could not write them down, no one would ever be able to hear about all the thoughts that had dispersed into the cosmos.

When he returned home after going out for a burrito, he noticed a letter that had been tucked into the crack in his doorframe. Being that he rarely received letters, he got very excited, and his eyebrows began to dance just the way they do when he gets very excited.

To the writer of the very small journal:

I found your journal while I was strolling passed the sunflowers in the park. I am glad that you wrote your address on the inside cover in case it was ever lost. I would like to return it to you. The truth is that while I was looking for your address, I came across some of the thoughts you had jotted down. They are beautiful. They fill me with such imagination that I can’t help but desire to meet the author of such extraordinary thoughts. I am sorry if this is too forward, but your journal and I will be waiting on Wednesday afternoon, on the bench near the daisies in the park where it was found. Please meet me.

Love,
Your admirer.

When the sun was high in the sky on Wednesday, the very small mouse with very expressive eyebrows strolled out of his front door, whistling to himself, hoping to snag himself a burrito before meeting his admirer in the park. When he finally arrived near the daisies, he saw that the bench was unoccupied.

“What a perfect opportunity to make use of my superpower!” He thought to himself. And with that, he became invisible. He began to walk around the park, admiring all the beautiful flowers, keeping an eye on the bench near the daisies in case his admirer was to arrive. As he passed a group of mice throwing a football around, he realized that they had not noticed him, in fact no one in the park seemed to notice him, so his superpower must be working.

Suddenly, he saw a most beautiful mouse. She, being that he was invisible, did not notice him either. He watched her as she stopped in front of the daisies, looked around for a moment, and sat down on the bench.

“Could this be my admirer?” He thought, as beads of sweat began to form around his very expressive eyebrows, and he was nearly knocked down by a rather remarkable thought that popped into his head, made his heart pound and made him feel warm, a little tingly, and slightly woozy.

He walked right up to her on the bench and stood a few feet in front of her, not knowing if he should reveal himself and speak, or if he should remain invisible.

“Oh, hello..?” She said to him with a hopeful smile.

“My superpower must be wearing thin,” he thought, “unless her superpower is that she can see invisible people.”

“huh-huh-huh,” he began, feeling the stutters coming on, “huh-huh-huh-hel-lo.”

“Are… you the author of the journal?”

“Y-y-y-ye-ye-ye-yes, I a-a-am,” he stammered.

“Oh. Are you… all right?” she asked as the smile began to melt from her face.

“Y-y-yes. I…”

“It’s ok, here’s your journal. I really loved reading it. I hope you don’t mind that I did.”

“Nuh-nuh-nuh-not at…”

“You have some really beautiful thoughts. I’d love to, um, read more if you have any, you know, other… writing.”

“Wuh-wuh-well, I duh-don’t…”

“Oh. Well, that’s too bad. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

And with that, she stood up and walked off, leaving his journal on the bench.

Happy to have his journal back, the very small mouse with the very expressive eyebrows walked home, having no particular thoughts popping into his head. And as he did, one flower murmured to another: “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”