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From: The Traffic Guy <TrafficGuy@NOSPAM.Nighthawk.sytes.net>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 29 Jan 2003 22:32:16 EST
Subject: {ASSM} The Silent Treatment {Traffic Guy}{no sex}
Date: Thu, 30 Jan 2003 05:10:03 -0500
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Comments?  Questions?  Email me at trafficguy8@subro.dnsq.org




The Silent Treatment

by Traffic Guy

Copyright 2003



"Look, we've been over this a dozen times!  It just isn't that easy!"  I 
seethed as I glared at Charlie.  Once again he was rubbing a sore spot, 
deliberately.

"Don't say it!"  I warned, as he began to open his mouth, then closed 
with it with a snap.  He took a long look at me, and decided, rightly, 
to let it drop for the moment.

And I knew it was just for the moment.  Charlie was my pal, my best 
friend, and my guardian angel.  He also knew me like a book.  And the 
book told him to back off right now.  So he did.  He quietly finished 
off his beer, picked up his jacket off the back of the chair, waved 
goodbye and escaped out the kitchen door.  Moments later I heard the 
back door open and close, and I was alone again.

Alone again.  Damn!  It seems like I just can't stop pushing until no 
one can stand to be near me.  Oh, Charlie would be back, but he's the 
exception that proves the rule.  Although it's possible that if I keep 
this up, even he might get discouraged.

"Fuck it!  Fuck it all!"

'And how does that help things?'

"It doesn't, but what's it to you?"

'Just checking.'

"Yeah, yeah, checking what, you...  uh...  wait a minute..."

'Something wrong?'

I shook my head, not really answering the, uh, whatever, but more to 
clear it.  It didn't seem to work, as...

'You know, Charlie's right.'

"Who the hell are you and - where the hell are you?"

'Oh, you can just think of me as your conscience.'

"Great, so I'm talking to myself now, huh?"

'Sort of.'

That pissed me off again, so I let loose a long string of profanity.

'Back to that I see.'

"And what the fuck difference does it make.  And why the fuck are you 
talking to me now?  I would have thought that if you were a good 
conscience you would have starting talking to me long before now."

'Oh, but I have been, John.  I've been whispering in your ear for a long 
time now.  You just haven't been paying any attention.'

"Okay, so what's different now?"

'It seems slightly more drastic measures are called for, now.'

"And what the fuck does that mean?"

'It means that you need something a little more dramatic than normal to 
bring you back.'

"Back to what?"

I shook my head again.  Anger wasn't a strong enough word for what I was 
feeling now.  And the trouble was, how could I take it out on a voice in 
my head?  I started to look around for something to smash or throw, when 
suddenly, I couldn't see!  "What the fuck is going on now!" I screamed.

'I guess you could call it a blind rage, eh?'

Great.  The voice in my head is making a joke at my expense.  I started 
feeling around.  I almost wanted to just smash into something, anything, 
but remembered I was in the kitchen and could do myself a lot of damage 
if I hit the wrong thing.

'That's right.  See, you can think and act logically when you need to!'

"Damn you!  What are you doing to me?"

'But it's not me that's doing it.  It's you.'

Deep breath.  Another deep breath.  "What now?"

Silence.

"Damn you, what now!?"

More silence.  I opened my mouth to speak again - and nothing came out! 
  Now I wasn't angry, I was scared!  Nooooooooo, not that.  Not silence!

Deep breath.  And another.  Feel around tentatively.  Find a chair.  Sit 
down.  Head down, in my hands.  The silence deafening.  Reminding me... 
  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

It was around this time a year ago.  Cindy and I were on the way back 
from her folks, her head on my shoulder as I drove carefully through the 
rain...

NO!  I won't think about it!  Think about something else, anything else 
- damn boss passing me over for that promotion, something about how my 
attitude had changed and wasn't right for the position.  Attitude had 
changed.  Of course it had!  Wouldn't yours change if, if...

NO!  Something else!  Stupid Bengals!  Damn cheap owner!  Sell the team 
or disband or something!  This is ridiculous, how can you keep your 
loyalty...

Charlie.  Loyal, helpful, always there, always doing his best to help 
since, since...

NO!  This silence is maddening!  I tried to speak again.  Nothing.  I 
stared at the blackness.  Nothing.  At least I could feel myself and the 
chair.  I tried to remember what the kitchen looked like to figure where 
I was.  The door, the sink, the refrigerator/freezer that we spent so 
much time checking out before we bought...

NO!  Damn, damn, damn!  Head in my hands, trying just to blank 
everything out.  Should have been easy, can't see, can't hear and can't 
speak, just like those monkeys.  You know, see no evil, speak no evil, 
hear no evil...

I started to laugh, silently of course, thinking of monkeys at the zoo, 
imitating their movements, making faces while Cindy laughed...

The laughing changed to crying, just like that.  And it wouldn't stop. 
On and on, tears rolling down my cheeks.

And finally, I heard a voice again.

'Welcome back, John.  Welcome back to the human race.'

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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