Jerry's Friends

Jerry's neck had been placed in a brace, forcing his head to look up, relative to his body. It was a series of rods which extended from a shoulder plate up to his chin, forcing his head to jut forward and his face to look away from his body. It was cold and metallic, and sometimes Jerry thought he could taste it, even though it wasn't really close to his mouth. This brace made his chin the only place his face touched the floor. He was able to see people's shoes this way, which was nice. He named his guards based on their shoes. There was Black Shoes, Scuffs, and Brown Shoes. Once he had seen Sneakers, but that was so long ago he was starting to wonder if it had actually happened. He knew, somewhere in a cave in his head, that these shoes had people attached to them, but he never got to see those people, so the Shoes became his only visitors. It was kinda like God: you know he's up in Heaven, looking down on you, but you can't see him. You only know he's there because you see Shoes, so there has to be a person wearing the Shoes, right? It made good sense to Jerry. The Shoes were not only his friends, they were proof that God existed, which felt nice. But today, Black Shoes was with Jerry, and Black Shoes was putting the weight on the board. Black Shoes didn't like Jerry, which was proven every time he put the angry bricks on the board. Slam! Slam! Then a small, throaty giggle that sounded like it was grabbing onto stray tendrils of phlegm as it bubbled out into the world. It was like the sound of glee made by the body of somebody who had only known paranoia and repression. It was an ugly giggle. Jerry wondered if Black Shoe's mother liked his giggle or if she winced like Jerry did when he heard it. Jerry tapped on the floor.



Sanderson heard the tapping again, gentle water tap against the broken hull, which brought him back to the island, away from the creaking in his bones, his muscles. There was a warm breeze that blew against his face. Ahhh, the warmth was fulfilling. The warmth deserved a pause. Sanderson breathed the warmth and felt it fill his entire being. The warmth seemed to not only fill his nose and throat and lungs, but it radiated out of him into any aura that Sanderson emitted. Sanderson didn't believe in aura's until that moment, when he felt the warmth fill a space around his body that he had not been aware of previously. A thought rushed through Sanderson's brain, pulling him away from the warmth: what had happened? He opened his eyes and looked around. Where was he? There was sand on the beach. And the beach stretched on until it curved back into itself and created an island with green overgrowth, palm trees and shadows. Sanderson looked at the busted boat. He knew that boat. It was his. He had traveled in the boat, but he had lost consciousness and here he was. Sanderson was struck, now, with another interesting thought: I am calm. Sanderson thought he should feel frightened. It would seem that he had been in an accident of some kind and that his only means of transportation from this place had been destroyed. Words like Cast Away and Swiss Family Robinson raced through his mind, and he knew that he was supposed to be scared for his life. But he remained easy without effort. "Hey," he spoke to the Thoughts Racing Through His Head, "you interrupted me!" And the Thoughts looked at him, surprised, and then lowered their heads. "We're sorry," said the thoughts. "Thank you," said Sanderson to the Thoughts. Sanderson closed his eyes, smiled, and took another long breath of warmth into his entirety.



Jerry felt splashing. He stopped tapping his finger, something he did almost without thinking anymore, and realized the splashing in his eyes and mouth was warm and smelled like urine. Through the thin stream of water before his eyes, he could see Black Shoes, standing in front of him. Black Shoes was peeing on him, and Jerry tried to close his nose and mouth as best he could. The nose was the worst hole. There was no good way to close your nose, so urine always splashed up it. At least with his mouth, Jerry knew that he would be able to spit out the urine. And his eyes he could close, and then blink away any of the liquid waste that dripped and stung. But his nose was open. Exposed and could not be protected from the urine that came more and more frequently. Jerry had tried to imagine Black Shoes drinking something nice, like herbal tea or chocolate milk. Something that would feel nicer when it was expelled onto him. But usually, the urine smelled and tasted like salt, beer and anger. Black Shoes made everything angry. The cinder block bricks were angry, and the urine was angry. Hey, thought Jerry, at least it's warm! And if he hadn't had to close his mouth to prevent urine from splashing into it, he would have smiled.