Originally written 8/30/07.
The old Hampshire Building on 14th and Hevenstern is where our scene takes place. At the very top ledge stands Jim, awaiting to take the plummet of death (or a big ouch) thirty-four stories down. Sixteen onlookers, including a pigeon from across the street, watch in horror awaiting his every move. Two police cops, thinking in their minds that the real reason they're here is to be the hero of the day, enter the rooftop hoping to take some kind of action to get Jim out of this predicament. Below, a seventeenth onlooker joins the crowd only in the attempt to justify what everyone else is looking at. A few moments later, some unknown guy, pretty big around the waist in one of those “Hi, I’m a PC” kind of outfits, comes along and tries to talk him out of it. A huge chatterbox it seems. Jim thinks to himself “If he doesn’t shut up, I’ll jump anyways just to get away from him. And he smells too.”
Jim stands here because he hates eggs. Well, I guess it’s more than just eggs. Let me put it this way; every morning, his wife cooks him eggs for breakfast. They’re pretty good eggs, but morning after morning after morning of eating the same darn eggs for twenty-three years, seven months, and eighteen days, one just can’t help but hate those darn eggs. “Why can’t she cook anything different?” he thinks to himself every morning. But why only think it? Why doesn’t he ever tell her? Well, see, Jim is not the assertive type. He’s the last guy you’d ever think to be assertive. He just goes along with life, hoping for the best. But that best has yet to ever come, and now he doubts it ever will. And, well, his wife only knows how to make eggs, that’s pretty much it. And Jim loves his wife, at least he think he does. Or for anyone that knew him, they would say he does. But does he for real; deep down in his heart and soul, in all true honesty? Nope, not really. In fact, he’s probably more in love with that smelly fat guy next to him that somehow started talking about macaroni and God. At least he somewhat seemed to care for him (And who was this guy anyways?). Jim started tuning him out fourteen minutes and eighteen-seconds ago.
But that got him thinking. For one thing, it reminded him how hungry he was and what he would do for some macaroni and cheese right now. It’s been months since he had divulged in such a delectable delight. But what does food matter when you’re about to kill yourself, besides adding some yellow to the pavement? The other thing was God. He never really thought about it, but what would happen to him if he were to jump off that building? Where would his soul go? Is there a heaven; maybe one that serves macaroni and cheese? Or would he end up in hell, one that only serves eggs, and where the devil is his wife. “Well, then I guess it would be as bad as it is now. I’d take my chances in a possibility of a macaroni and cheese heaven,” he thought to himself. But what if there is no heaven or hell? What if the only thing he’ll end up being is a splat on the street? That wouldn’t be fun. Cars would be running over his remains every day. And you know how well those street cleaners do their jobs; he’ll be there for years! But to go back to his normal way of life instead?
It’s those darn eggs that got him up here in the first place. Would he be able to ask his wife to make him something (and learn) other than eggs? If he could, why didn’t he before; before he missed worked (on the day they served macaroni cheese in the cafeteria too!) and made a detour to the old Hampshire Building to stand on the very ledge that he’s standing? Then you could say, “Then why did you marry your wife? You never really loved her and she never really loved you. You knew she only wanted you for the money. You should have asked Zoey Holonberg on that date when you had a chance. Now look, she’s president of the Holonberg Macaroni and Cheese Company! You loser!”
He started tuning in the fat smelly guy after much minutes of random thoughts racing through his head. He was in the middle of a story of how he just bought a car he didn’t like. Jim wasn’t sure how the guy started talking about some banged-up car, but then it came to him; Jim has a daughter. He always knew he had a daughter, I mean, how could anyone forget they have a daughter? But with all the bad thoughts of how he was just hating his life came to his head, he started tuning out the good things in his life. When the guy started talking about his car, it triggered a whole bunch of memories within Jim’s head about his lovely daughter, who had just recently begun to drive a few weeks ago (And she’s a pretty good driver too). Although he wasn’t happy with his wife and her darn eggs, he loved his daughter with all his heart. That’s what made him happy in life. That’s what made him go through life everyday, and made eating those eggs worth it. And maybe that’s what his purpose in life was, to live for his daughter. She was the spark in his life and he never realized how valuable she was to his life until now.
But what to do with all those eggs? Flashing back sixteen minutes within his mind, he tried to dig up another thought that got hidden within his unconscious while he was pretty much thinking to himself and tuning him out. Sixteen minutes ago, the fat smelly guy, now sweating pretty heavily, had talked about his lonely life with hopes of one day gaining a partner to live it with. Apparently, he was so lonely that he himself almost committed suicide, but then he found the light in his life, a meaning to his life, to help other victims deal with their meaningless in life, and hopefully save lives, just like Jim's.
Flashback twelve minutes and twenty-two seconds ago, again hidden with the unconscious mind of Jim, he now remembers that the guy started talking about how he burnt his eggs this morning and was so mad. He could never properly make eggs, a favorite of his, and it’s very rare that he will, because his tends to suck. “If only I had someone that could make my eggs every morning, that would make my life complete!” said the big sweaty smelly guy.
“What does that have anything to do with any of my problems?!?!” thought Jim talking to his mind on why it started remembering such pointless stuff. “Wait, hold on, I know what to do!”
Jim finally got off that ledge. He went up to the guy and gave him the phone number of his wife’s cellphone. “You may want to speak to this lady in a few days” he said. The guy responded in a confused thanks. As he was about to leave the rooftop, the police men came up to him and asked if he was going to be alright. He replied, “Everything is going to be wonderful.”
He quickly left the building. It was almost 3 o’clock in the afternoon. He was an hour away from home and he needed to be there by four to say hello to a very special person in his life.
That night, he and his daughter went out to together to eat some macaroni and cheese.
Jim stands here because he hates eggs. Well, I guess it’s more than just eggs. Let me put it this way; every morning, his wife cooks him eggs for breakfast. They’re pretty good eggs, but morning after morning after morning of eating the same darn eggs for twenty-three years, seven months, and eighteen days, one just can’t help but hate those darn eggs. “Why can’t she cook anything different?” he thinks to himself every morning. But why only think it? Why doesn’t he ever tell her? Well, see, Jim is not the assertive type. He’s the last guy you’d ever think to be assertive. He just goes along with life, hoping for the best. But that best has yet to ever come, and now he doubts it ever will. And, well, his wife only knows how to make eggs, that’s pretty much it. And Jim loves his wife, at least he think he does. Or for anyone that knew him, they would say he does. But does he for real; deep down in his heart and soul, in all true honesty? Nope, not really. In fact, he’s probably more in love with that smelly fat guy next to him that somehow started talking about macaroni and God. At least he somewhat seemed to care for him (And who was this guy anyways?). Jim started tuning him out fourteen minutes and eighteen-seconds ago.
But that got him thinking. For one thing, it reminded him how hungry he was and what he would do for some macaroni and cheese right now. It’s been months since he had divulged in such a delectable delight. But what does food matter when you’re about to kill yourself, besides adding some yellow to the pavement? The other thing was God. He never really thought about it, but what would happen to him if he were to jump off that building? Where would his soul go? Is there a heaven; maybe one that serves macaroni and cheese? Or would he end up in hell, one that only serves eggs, and where the devil is his wife. “Well, then I guess it would be as bad as it is now. I’d take my chances in a possibility of a macaroni and cheese heaven,” he thought to himself. But what if there is no heaven or hell? What if the only thing he’ll end up being is a splat on the street? That wouldn’t be fun. Cars would be running over his remains every day. And you know how well those street cleaners do their jobs; he’ll be there for years! But to go back to his normal way of life instead?
It’s those darn eggs that got him up here in the first place. Would he be able to ask his wife to make him something (and learn) other than eggs? If he could, why didn’t he before; before he missed worked (on the day they served macaroni cheese in the cafeteria too!) and made a detour to the old Hampshire Building to stand on the very ledge that he’s standing? Then you could say, “Then why did you marry your wife? You never really loved her and she never really loved you. You knew she only wanted you for the money. You should have asked Zoey Holonberg on that date when you had a chance. Now look, she’s president of the Holonberg Macaroni and Cheese Company! You loser!”
He started tuning in the fat smelly guy after much minutes of random thoughts racing through his head. He was in the middle of a story of how he just bought a car he didn’t like. Jim wasn’t sure how the guy started talking about some banged-up car, but then it came to him; Jim has a daughter. He always knew he had a daughter, I mean, how could anyone forget they have a daughter? But with all the bad thoughts of how he was just hating his life came to his head, he started tuning out the good things in his life. When the guy started talking about his car, it triggered a whole bunch of memories within Jim’s head about his lovely daughter, who had just recently begun to drive a few weeks ago (And she’s a pretty good driver too). Although he wasn’t happy with his wife and her darn eggs, he loved his daughter with all his heart. That’s what made him happy in life. That’s what made him go through life everyday, and made eating those eggs worth it. And maybe that’s what his purpose in life was, to live for his daughter. She was the spark in his life and he never realized how valuable she was to his life until now.
But what to do with all those eggs? Flashing back sixteen minutes within his mind, he tried to dig up another thought that got hidden within his unconscious while he was pretty much thinking to himself and tuning him out. Sixteen minutes ago, the fat smelly guy, now sweating pretty heavily, had talked about his lonely life with hopes of one day gaining a partner to live it with. Apparently, he was so lonely that he himself almost committed suicide, but then he found the light in his life, a meaning to his life, to help other victims deal with their meaningless in life, and hopefully save lives, just like Jim's.
Flashback twelve minutes and twenty-two seconds ago, again hidden with the unconscious mind of Jim, he now remembers that the guy started talking about how he burnt his eggs this morning and was so mad. He could never properly make eggs, a favorite of his, and it’s very rare that he will, because his tends to suck. “If only I had someone that could make my eggs every morning, that would make my life complete!” said the big sweaty smelly guy.
“What does that have anything to do with any of my problems?!?!” thought Jim talking to his mind on why it started remembering such pointless stuff. “Wait, hold on, I know what to do!”
Suddenly, Jim moved. For the past hour and forty-six minutes, he was standing perfectly still on that ledge. The onlookers, on the edge of their seats, perfectly still as well, gasped at the sudden movement and were in shock, thinking he was about to fall. Onlooker Nine, a tall girl with a white jacket on, suddenly dropped her afternoon sandwich on the floor as a result of it. A few seconds later, the pigeon from across the street was gone. It finally got what it was eying all along; a dropped sandwich.
Jim finally got off that ledge. He went up to the guy and gave him the phone number of his wife’s cellphone. “You may want to speak to this lady in a few days” he said. The guy responded in a confused thanks. As he was about to leave the rooftop, the police men came up to him and asked if he was going to be alright. He replied, “Everything is going to be wonderful.”
He quickly left the building. It was almost 3 o’clock in the afternoon. He was an hour away from home and he needed to be there by four to say hello to a very special person in his life.
That night, he and his daughter went out to together to eat some macaroni and cheese.
It was good.
✗ Brian
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