Epilogue... or Epilepsy? so far...
Epilogue:
The television was on too loud again and Roger crawled out of bed, made an exasperated noise as his feet touched the cold hard wood floor. It was quite annoying to him that he was sent to bed so early, nine o’clock, earlier than any of the kids he knew, probably all children around the world got to stay up later than he did, just to be tortured by the loud echoes of the television reverberating over the entire house. It did not seem fair to him to be shut away, only to sit awake for hours, his attention diverted from falling asleep in the cold nook he called his room. Really, his room was nothing more than a crawlspace on the second floor, but it was his choice to move in there. If he had not, then he would still be sharing a room with his two younger twin brothers, who were five years younger than Roger and five years too annoying for him. So, the cold, cold winters and the desperately humid and hot summers were bearable to him as long as he did not have to spend one more minute cooped up with those two terrors any longer. In fact, his little space he called home would be quite acceptable if he could only convince his father to lay some carpet in there to block out the noises between nine and twelve at night, until his father finally shuffled off to bed.
Roger made his way down the steps. As always, at ten o’clock, his father switched over from whatever he was watching to the early edition news. And unlike any other night, when Roger entered the family room, sure enough, it was Jack Northerly, the cheshire anchorman, enameled as always, cheerfully deliberating death and destruction to his public. Cheerful of course because the more death and destruction there was in the world, the more secure Jack Northerly’s job was. And it seemed to Roger that Jack-too-many-teeth was never, ever dour. And unlike what Roger’s grandfather always said, “No news is good news…,” Roger believed that Jack would probably forever disagree.
Roger decided to stand back and watch a little of the evening spectacle before making his presence and problem know to his father. Tonight, Jack and his co-anchor, Tisha “tight-shirt” McGraw, were laughing at the acrobatic antics of a waterskiing rodent, as they tried to pawn off the lighter side of the news as more entertaining than it really was. Roger thought to himself that it must have been a slow day to have this story so close to the beginning of the show, but then the tone of Trisha turned a more serious one as she began a new story. Evidently that day, three men died at a gas and go as a botched robbery took place. Roger figured it was time to get going, otherwise if he watched anymore, he would have horrible nightmares. Those nightmares wouldn’t involve any botched robbers killing or rampaging, but it would be a recurring one where the two anchors and their botoxed faces, their shiny, inhuman teeth chattered away and did social commentary on Roger’s own insignificant boring life.
Roger unglued his eyes from the screen and cornered around the couch to confront his father only to find him asleep, beer and cozy still in hand, and his neck and head arched back and rolled on to his left shoulder. Roger didn’t know if he should be upset at the fact the television was left needlessly on or happy that he had the chance to commandeer the television to watch one of science channels he loved. The ones on at night were always a little bit more risqué, but they were definitely better than rehashed ones during the day. Just before he was about to change the channel, Jack interrupted his partner with breaking news.
“I’m sorry Trisha, but this was just handed to me. It seems that we have been just been given information on totally bizarre case and our producer has said we just have to share this. It seems that the teacher at Karl Marsh Elementary, Mr. Walters, Jim, who has been missing for over a week now. We brought you that breaking story last Thursday. It seems that there is footage of his disappearance, and we have it for you. And when we come back from the break, we’ll have it ready to roll.”
Mr. Walters? Thought Roger, and he froze with the remote hanging straight forward pointing out as an extension of his arm as an automotive repair commercial came on screen. That was Roger’s favorite teacher from the previous year. He taught social studies and he actually made it interesting unlike so many unsuccessful teachers before him. He was a favorite among Karl Marsh alumni and it was no different in this household. But Roger was somewhere near shock as this was the first it had reached his ears, a week or no week. How could that be possible? Before he could answer himself the news popped back on.
“And we’re back. Tisha, you and I took a look at this video of his disappearance during the break, and I think we can both agree that this footage can only be described as nothing less than amazing as indescribable. And taken at an ATM machine no less—”
“Yet it is not just amazing, Jack. It is completely terrible and tragic, no matter how incredible it seems.”
“Yes, yes, of course, it’s tragic and terrible Tish. But astonishing none the less… just watch…”
And there on the television screen appeared Mr. Walters in green tint, a stop time stamped video footage placing his ATM card into the machine. He looked no different from the last time Roger saw him about a year ago in class.
“As you can see..” said Jack. “It is a simple transaction that Mr. Walters is making. He pushes a few buttons, takes his money, and begins to turn around. He takes a few steps and heads right toward Main Street. And then…”
Just at that point, the Mr. Walters on screen, the man who has been supposedly missing for a week, just evaporated. Nothing slow like dissipating smoke, Mr. Walters just disappeared. Poof! Gone. There was no trace whatsoever of him left. One second here, the next he just was not.
“…he just disappears. Abracadabra. We have tried contacting the police to see if they have ascertained any theories involving this case, but it seems that the deputy chief was unavailable for questioning at this time. We’ll show it again, but again, we have no further information at this point regarding this. But be sure as the story unfolds, we at Channel 10 are sure to bring you the action first. But here again is that disturbing, yet dumbfounding image one more time.”
And they showed it. Actually, the news team showed it twice more because their man Jack just couldn’t get over the fact that he could replay his voice over and over again while doing this seemingly rehearsed surprised voiceover as the video played. Sure, it was quite unbelievable, but seeing more than twice seemed to take away some of it’s shock value and Roger turned off the television halfway during the third time through, just as Mr. Watson was tugging out a few twenties from the machine again, he pushed the power button and the television made a shwoosh noise, which woke his father up. Why is it that a marching band can pass through his family room, and like all dad’s, they won’t awake until the shwoosh of the television powers down? Is it something innate in all males that lays dormant until they reach the age of thirty or so? Thought Roger.
For quite a bit, all his father could do was stair at his son as the father began to deduce that this was not now a dream. And Roger could see it all across his forehead, as a scowl appeared, that the usual “What are you doing up?” was about to slip from his father’s mouth. And sure enough, as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, his father predictably said those exact words.
Roger wanted to shift the subject away to the amazing incident that just happened on the screen, but a high whine only came out and he cringed under it as he said, “Buh-but the TV—too loud… I couldn’t sleep.”
His father didn’t even dignify a response, but simply pointed in the direction of the stairs and gave Ryan the crooked eyebrow response. Roger let out a frustrated huff and did about-face and marched away from his father. Roger just knew that he was a disappointment to his father. The crooked eyebrow was just one more confirmation of the fact. He sluggishly dragged his feet up each step.
Mr. Lilienthal, Roger’s father, was one of those fathers who were heavy into sports as a child, playing them throughout his youth, excelling at any one he was apart. From tennis to football, Mr. Lilienthal was good at them all naturally. When his knees grew weak and his back began to give out, Rick Lilienthal’s playing days turned into days of vicariously living through other players on the television, and when Rick had his first child, and it was a boy, (this being the real reason that Roger believed his father even wanted children) he wished to live vicariously through him. But not only did Roger do poorly at every sport, he thought they were quite silly to watch too.
This is why Roger felt that his father, though he seemed to despise children in general, did not give up after just one. No, he kept trying and this time he succeeded with not only one son to be proud of, but two identical boys, Parker and Peyton, who incidentally loved and were brilliant at all sports like their father. Parker was named after his father’s favorite baseball player, Dave Parker, and Peyton after a not so famous quarterback you’ve never heard of. Roger of course was named after another famous person, but much to his father’s chagrin (even though he wouldn’t admit it) not a famous sports athlete. Roger was actually named after a famous mathematician Roger Cotes, who was an associate of Isaac Newton and an innovator in trigonometry. This was his mother’s choice after giving birth to boy for her husband. If this doesn’t give you any insight into Roger’s positive attributes, stick around for it is sure to come up again somewhere further on.
Okay, I guess I'll keep at this one, but so far I haven't had anytime to even sleep let alone write. Hopefully, I will be able to find time now over the weekends, but we shall see... This is just the intro to the parallel universe story, but stick around and perhaps one day this will finally go somewhere...
-sib
The television was on too loud again and Roger crawled out of bed, made an exasperated noise as his feet touched the cold hard wood floor. It was quite annoying to him that he was sent to bed so early, nine o’clock, earlier than any of the kids he knew, probably all children around the world got to stay up later than he did, just to be tortured by the loud echoes of the television reverberating over the entire house. It did not seem fair to him to be shut away, only to sit awake for hours, his attention diverted from falling asleep in the cold nook he called his room. Really, his room was nothing more than a crawlspace on the second floor, but it was his choice to move in there. If he had not, then he would still be sharing a room with his two younger twin brothers, who were five years younger than Roger and five years too annoying for him. So, the cold, cold winters and the desperately humid and hot summers were bearable to him as long as he did not have to spend one more minute cooped up with those two terrors any longer. In fact, his little space he called home would be quite acceptable if he could only convince his father to lay some carpet in there to block out the noises between nine and twelve at night, until his father finally shuffled off to bed.
Roger made his way down the steps. As always, at ten o’clock, his father switched over from whatever he was watching to the early edition news. And unlike any other night, when Roger entered the family room, sure enough, it was Jack Northerly, the cheshire anchorman, enameled as always, cheerfully deliberating death and destruction to his public. Cheerful of course because the more death and destruction there was in the world, the more secure Jack Northerly’s job was. And it seemed to Roger that Jack-too-many-teeth was never, ever dour. And unlike what Roger’s grandfather always said, “No news is good news…,” Roger believed that Jack would probably forever disagree.
Roger decided to stand back and watch a little of the evening spectacle before making his presence and problem know to his father. Tonight, Jack and his co-anchor, Tisha “tight-shirt” McGraw, were laughing at the acrobatic antics of a waterskiing rodent, as they tried to pawn off the lighter side of the news as more entertaining than it really was. Roger thought to himself that it must have been a slow day to have this story so close to the beginning of the show, but then the tone of Trisha turned a more serious one as she began a new story. Evidently that day, three men died at a gas and go as a botched robbery took place. Roger figured it was time to get going, otherwise if he watched anymore, he would have horrible nightmares. Those nightmares wouldn’t involve any botched robbers killing or rampaging, but it would be a recurring one where the two anchors and their botoxed faces, their shiny, inhuman teeth chattered away and did social commentary on Roger’s own insignificant boring life.
Roger unglued his eyes from the screen and cornered around the couch to confront his father only to find him asleep, beer and cozy still in hand, and his neck and head arched back and rolled on to his left shoulder. Roger didn’t know if he should be upset at the fact the television was left needlessly on or happy that he had the chance to commandeer the television to watch one of science channels he loved. The ones on at night were always a little bit more risqué, but they were definitely better than rehashed ones during the day. Just before he was about to change the channel, Jack interrupted his partner with breaking news.
“I’m sorry Trisha, but this was just handed to me. It seems that we have been just been given information on totally bizarre case and our producer has said we just have to share this. It seems that the teacher at Karl Marsh Elementary, Mr. Walters, Jim, who has been missing for over a week now. We brought you that breaking story last Thursday. It seems that there is footage of his disappearance, and we have it for you. And when we come back from the break, we’ll have it ready to roll.”
Mr. Walters? Thought Roger, and he froze with the remote hanging straight forward pointing out as an extension of his arm as an automotive repair commercial came on screen. That was Roger’s favorite teacher from the previous year. He taught social studies and he actually made it interesting unlike so many unsuccessful teachers before him. He was a favorite among Karl Marsh alumni and it was no different in this household. But Roger was somewhere near shock as this was the first it had reached his ears, a week or no week. How could that be possible? Before he could answer himself the news popped back on.
“And we’re back. Tisha, you and I took a look at this video of his disappearance during the break, and I think we can both agree that this footage can only be described as nothing less than amazing as indescribable. And taken at an ATM machine no less—”
“Yet it is not just amazing, Jack. It is completely terrible and tragic, no matter how incredible it seems.”
“Yes, yes, of course, it’s tragic and terrible Tish. But astonishing none the less… just watch…”
And there on the television screen appeared Mr. Walters in green tint, a stop time stamped video footage placing his ATM card into the machine. He looked no different from the last time Roger saw him about a year ago in class.
“As you can see..” said Jack. “It is a simple transaction that Mr. Walters is making. He pushes a few buttons, takes his money, and begins to turn around. He takes a few steps and heads right toward Main Street. And then…”
Just at that point, the Mr. Walters on screen, the man who has been supposedly missing for a week, just evaporated. Nothing slow like dissipating smoke, Mr. Walters just disappeared. Poof! Gone. There was no trace whatsoever of him left. One second here, the next he just was not.
“…he just disappears. Abracadabra. We have tried contacting the police to see if they have ascertained any theories involving this case, but it seems that the deputy chief was unavailable for questioning at this time. We’ll show it again, but again, we have no further information at this point regarding this. But be sure as the story unfolds, we at Channel 10 are sure to bring you the action first. But here again is that disturbing, yet dumbfounding image one more time.”
And they showed it. Actually, the news team showed it twice more because their man Jack just couldn’t get over the fact that he could replay his voice over and over again while doing this seemingly rehearsed surprised voiceover as the video played. Sure, it was quite unbelievable, but seeing more than twice seemed to take away some of it’s shock value and Roger turned off the television halfway during the third time through, just as Mr. Watson was tugging out a few twenties from the machine again, he pushed the power button and the television made a shwoosh noise, which woke his father up. Why is it that a marching band can pass through his family room, and like all dad’s, they won’t awake until the shwoosh of the television powers down? Is it something innate in all males that lays dormant until they reach the age of thirty or so? Thought Roger.
For quite a bit, all his father could do was stair at his son as the father began to deduce that this was not now a dream. And Roger could see it all across his forehead, as a scowl appeared, that the usual “What are you doing up?” was about to slip from his father’s mouth. And sure enough, as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, his father predictably said those exact words.
Roger wanted to shift the subject away to the amazing incident that just happened on the screen, but a high whine only came out and he cringed under it as he said, “Buh-but the TV—too loud… I couldn’t sleep.”
His father didn’t even dignify a response, but simply pointed in the direction of the stairs and gave Ryan the crooked eyebrow response. Roger let out a frustrated huff and did about-face and marched away from his father. Roger just knew that he was a disappointment to his father. The crooked eyebrow was just one more confirmation of the fact. He sluggishly dragged his feet up each step.
Mr. Lilienthal, Roger’s father, was one of those fathers who were heavy into sports as a child, playing them throughout his youth, excelling at any one he was apart. From tennis to football, Mr. Lilienthal was good at them all naturally. When his knees grew weak and his back began to give out, Rick Lilienthal’s playing days turned into days of vicariously living through other players on the television, and when Rick had his first child, and it was a boy, (this being the real reason that Roger believed his father even wanted children) he wished to live vicariously through him. But not only did Roger do poorly at every sport, he thought they were quite silly to watch too.
This is why Roger felt that his father, though he seemed to despise children in general, did not give up after just one. No, he kept trying and this time he succeeded with not only one son to be proud of, but two identical boys, Parker and Peyton, who incidentally loved and were brilliant at all sports like their father. Parker was named after his father’s favorite baseball player, Dave Parker, and Peyton after a not so famous quarterback you’ve never heard of. Roger of course was named after another famous person, but much to his father’s chagrin (even though he wouldn’t admit it) not a famous sports athlete. Roger was actually named after a famous mathematician Roger Cotes, who was an associate of Isaac Newton and an innovator in trigonometry. This was his mother’s choice after giving birth to boy for her husband. If this doesn’t give you any insight into Roger’s positive attributes, stick around for it is sure to come up again somewhere further on.
Okay, I guess I'll keep at this one, but so far I haven't had anytime to even sleep let alone write. Hopefully, I will be able to find time now over the weekends, but we shall see... This is just the intro to the parallel universe story, but stick around and perhaps one day this will finally go somewhere...
-sib
the Omnipotent... Everybody loves SuperInsignificantBoy wrote this at 1:02 AM
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