The Mind of "M" by M.J. Garrett (good story books to read .txt) 📕

is wet. Toilet paper scatters the floor marked with shit and footprints. The light dims periodically, filling the room with poor lighting and a dark yellow tint. I turn to face the man in the mirror hoping for some type of answer for my unique situation. The face in the mirror looks just as shocked as me.

A knock on the door fills the silent room. I can see the shadow of legs beneath the door. My darting eyes look for a quick answer and explanation…..nothing. I quickly grab the screwdriver from the sink and back up against the wall. The door begins to open and a line of light from outside reflects off the mirror and traces the left side of my face. I move farther behind the door as it opens. Outside is the sound of loud music and voices that I can't quite understand due to the loud exaggerated bass line from the speakers. The shadow slowly steps inside and the door begins to close. I begin to squeeze the screwdriver until my knuckles turn white and my heart begins to pound with adrenaline and anticipation. As the door shuts, the sound of giggling teenage girls catches me off guard. Unaware of me standing behind them they continue to talk and giggle. As they look around the room they quickly become disgusted by their surroundings. One of the girls tip toes over the scattered wet toilet paper and begins to lift her skirt. She pulls down her panties so they rest just above her knee high socks as she tries to pee without sitting on the toilet seat. The other girl pulls out lip gloss and eyeliner. She leans closer to the mirror trying to get as much light as possible so she can fix herself as nice as she can. Still talking and laughing they don't see me. They don't hear me. They don't hear the water dripping off the screwdriver splashing onto the wet floor. They don't hear my breathing. They don't know I'm here.

Once done, they gather themselves and check each other for any flaws. No toilet paper on shoes, no skirt tucked into panties, no misplaced eyeliner, no hair out of place. They compliment each other on how pretty they are and then they smile and turn for the door. They open the door and the music and light once again fill the small room. As the door closes the music and light fade to silence. I slowly walk up to the sink and move close to the dirty mirror…nothing. No reflection or bloody water. My heart begins to race as my grip on the screwdriver loosens until it silently falls to the floor. My eyes dart around as I again back up to catch a grip on my surroundings. Bloody hand prints are smeared on the walls, ceiling, and door. The light dims again as I begin to turn around, looking at the unrecognizable room. My chest and lungs begin to take in air at a much faster rate. I frantically grab the door handle and exit the room as quickly as possible.

"Ray?" A man says to me. He's dressed in a business suit complimented by blue neck tie. "Are you okay man?" The room is a well lit office filled with cubicles and ringing phones. "Dude, checkout the new girl", he whispers to me. "I hear her office is next to ours. We're a couple lucky sons of bitches! So, are we still on for golf Sunday?"

Still confused about the uncomfortable scenario that I seem to be in, I turn around and go back into the bathroom. It's clean and seems to be an entire different room all together. There are three sinks connected by a blue marble countertop and accompanied by stainless steel soap and paper towel dispensers. There are three individual mirrors with three light bulbs above each mirror. There are three urinals and three toilets along with a handicap stall separated by dark blue stall dividers. Dark blue tile cover the floor and bottom half of the walls. It's clean. The man follows me in. I look at the mirror and there I am. I'm dressed in a dark blue suit. A single breasted three buttoned suit. My shirt is white and my tie is blue. My hair is much longer than I recall. It covers the top of my ears and it looks as if I just rolled out of bed. I look well rested and clean. The man who followed me in keeps talking to me. He huddles into the urinal still talking. He's a little overweight and his hair is dark with shades of gray above his ears. He has no hair on the top of his head except for a small patch on the front with some strands connecting the island of hair to the rest of it. Still talking. He looks up toward the ceiling while he aims for the bottom of the urinal and laughs at his own jokes. Still talking.

I wait for the man to finish. He walks to the sink and holds his hands underneath the facet. The water automatically kicks on and he's still talking. When he's done washing, he grabs a paper towel and pats his hands dry while he looks into the mirror and stretches his face to see if there are boogers that needed to be removed. Still talking we exit the restroom and walk through the maze of cubicles. On our way through the maze he flicks the remaining water off of his hands and over the cubicle walls and onto the people pushing buttons on their keyboards. One of them stands up in protest of the rude flicks of water. The man still talking to me turns around and gives the protester a middle finger and says, "Stop your whining, Jerry." He then continues to walk through the maze…still talking.


Chameleon (part 2)

We enter a corner office surrounded by windows. The walls and door are both glass and completely free of finger prints. The man walks up to the glass executive desk and sits on the corner. With one foot on the floor and the other hanging from the edge of the desk, I look around and try to figure things out. The man finishes his conversation and laughs while saying, "I guess you had to be there! Anyway, I'll get out of your office and see you for lunch…Jap food right?"

Looking out the window at the cars and busy street below, I turn and look over my shoulder and hesitantly agreed. "Yeah….Jap food."

The man smiles in agreement and turns to leave the office. Half way through the door he turns around and says, "Thanks for listening. I can always count on you to listen. Thanks, man."

Sitting down behind this huge glass desk decorated by pictures of me and what looks to be the family, I am suddenly bombarded with mental pictures and silent moments. Wedding day moments, birthdays, Christmas, office parties, and other moments bombard my mind in a half second flashback. I quickly look around the office and it seems that this life I have now is coming back to me. Everything I touch adds more pictures to my already overwhelmed senses. The pictures vary from me talking to countless clients and handing out parking vouchers to pictures of me bending beautiful women over the desk and having my way with them. There are so many moments with no explanations. I see myself pacing across the floor yelling into the phone, pouring expensive Scotch for myself and others, relaxing with my feet on the desk, looking out the window, and not one moment or memory really explains to me who I am. Then the phone rings and breaks up the flashbacks.

"Hello?" I said calmly. Waiting for a response, I quickly open a drawer and pull out a notepad.

"What are you doing?" A woman's voice says.

"Working?"

"Oh? Well are you coming home to get lunch?" She asks.

"I don't know….I think I'm going to lunch with a friend."

"Japanese? I forgot about that. Where are you and Pete going? Can you pick me up something?"

"I don't know where we are going." I tell her, "What do you want me to get you?"

"You know what I like." She says with a quiet giggle. "Get me the usual…this time just don't put all that sauce on there."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later." I hang up the phone and look at the notes that I jotted down. The notes say, "Woman…" "Seems to be more than friend…" "Japanese with Pete…." "Pick up the usual with no sauce…"


In loving memory...

There is a place in everyone’s mind where modern philosophy is challenged by normalcy. A place where we look at the idea of popular opinion with intense scrutiny and an insatiable desire to overcome what people think (or what they think they know) about who we really are. The oddest thing for me is to watch people and see how they begin to mold themselves into the shape of what popular opinion and modern philosophy says they should be. I watch everyday people doing everyday things and I know that this is the poetry by which most of our ideas of normalcy are challenged. It’s a normal thing to be "cutoff" on the highway….but none of us have ever cut anyone off. It’s normal to be pissed off at a bad customer….but we are never the bad customer. It’s normal to hate the idea of racism….but we are never racist. Do you understand my point? Normalcy for me is crying while watching a touching "Reba" moment, but laughing at the fact that my friends and family have forsaken me. Normalcy for me is spending 10 dollars on a dinner and leaving a 10 dollar tip, but rolling my pants up to walk in the water hazard to retrieve a 1 dollar golf ball. I know that normalcy is actually quite the opposite of normal. There is a cave in everyone’s mind that we all retreat to…a place where it’s okay to feel normal and experience the beauty of raw human emotion. The mistake that most of us make is thinking that we are alone. You are not alone at all. Know this…I am always in that cave. All you have to do is ask and I’ll be there.


In loving memory of Merlin Garrett (1978-2007). You will be missed


Sorry...

I sometimes feel like I'm the only one who is sane
I am the only one around, who understands your pain
It feels so alone, in this world of smiling faces
Regrets of choices, and opportunities never taken

Why couldn't I see, your hand reaching out
With my eyes clinched in fear, it was your voice that lead me out
You never wavered, you stayed until the end
Even though I pushed you away, and you still remained to the end

I'm so sorry….
I never meant to be….
I just never meant to be….
I should have never been….