“I’m not psychotic; I’m not a psycho. Anyone who says I am - well, they’re the crazy ones. Yeah, I’m a little anxious, maybe a little neurotic, but who isn’t? Let’s take Candice for example - my eldest sister. She feels the need to take her keys with her everywhere she goes. And quite frankly, it’s annoying with all the constant rattling they make with every turn on the road, hitting against the steering wheel. She’s always driving, too. There’s always somewhere she has to be. I wish they would let me drive so I wouldn’t have to deal with that anymore. But that’s how I am with Oscar. There is absolutely no difference. I don’t understand why everyone deems it a problem. He’s a piece of me. I just need him wherever I go, and I don’t see why that’s something to worry about.”
“And you don’t find it an issue to have to drag around a stuffed giraffe your parents gave you as a child, wherever you go?” he responded with a worrisome face. My therapist always looks that way; I hate it. “Don’t you ever think of it as a hassle?”
Did he really just ask me that? Is he stupid? I almost interrupted him right then and there. Then, I remembered that I’m supposed to try and work on my manners. So I decided against it. But, therapy is such a waste of time. Dr. Robertson never listens to the meaning behind my words. Obviously, it isn’t a hassle to bring him with me. Why would I do it if it were? Besides; Oscar is not a stuffed animal. He is perfectly capable of walking on his own. He’s one hundred percent ambulatory, and I prefer his company over anyone else’s. (He was a gift from my parents back when they loved me as an eight year old. But that was some fifteen years ago.) It’s common sense, these days, that’s hard to come across. I don’t want to waste my breath on stupid questions like these, so I simply answer, “No.”
~~~
Candice is one minute and forty seven seconds late... forty eight... forty nine… Oscar’s walking around aimlessly waiting as he sniffs around the leaves of the plants on display in the waiting room. He’s really gaunt, especially for his height. He finds a way to cleverly maneuver between the tall plants, almost like a figure - eight, wrapping his long neck around each of the trunks, to get to the branch he wants. Whenever I watch him do these things so casually, I always wonder how it would feel to be a giraffe. I’m stuck with a short human neck. I can’t twist it around tree trunks - no matter how hard I try. I’m at least thankful that my legs aren’t that skinny, and that I’m not that tall. Being 5’7” might be below average, but I don’t mind it.
After impatiently and vigorously shaking my leg up and down as if my life depended on the friction I was creating, Candice rushes through the door with the loud jingles of her keys, exactly two minutes and thirteen seconds late. I zoned out after that, and somehow ended up in the passenger seat to her car. She’s babbling and spitting a thousand questions about my session with Dr. Robertson today.
“...I’m telling you, Evan. You need to start taking these sessions more seriously, if you ever plan on getting better. I know you think they’re pointless and all, but mom and dad keep worrying, and your sister and I both agree that you’re not getting better. Do you need more medication? I can talk to Dr. Robertson about that if you think you need more. Or maybe you need less? Do you feel foggy at all since that new prescription was given to you? Evan, give me something to work with. I’m always here to care for you, you know that? ...Evan?”
“Huh?” I abruptly respond. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, I totally get it. The medicine is working fine.” As she continues with one of her methodical rampages, Oscar is in the back seat enjoying the breeze in his face from Candice’s convertible. I can see his mouth moving and eyebrows low. He’s mocking Candice’s nonsense, and that gets a chuckle out of me.
“You think this is funny? Your behavior is NOT something to laugh about. God, talking to you is just fruitless. All you do is talk to your toy pet…” This just makes me laugh even harder. I decide to join Oscar in mocking her even more, and not pay attention to another word she says.
We finally pull up to my parents’ house, where we find that another car is parked in front of Mom’s car. Everyone has their own car, but me - let alone their license. Everyone has their own perfect little life set for them: a prestigious job, their own home, a family they love… But me? No job. Still living here with my parents at twenty three, even though I’m fully capable of living on my own, although I’d, of course, have Oscar with me. But my parents are insistent, and they “only want the best for me.” So I stay with them, fully aware that they hate me. Once we get to the driveway, Oscar hops out almost immediately to see who the unwelcomed guests are, as he screams about how our room better not be occupied. He hasn’t been having the loveliest nights this past week, considering his “giraffe instincts” that persist of bad news to come… Whatever that means.
As I follow Candice up to the the doorstep, I try to figure out who’s car is parked in the driveway, but before I get to conclude my leads, Mom and Dad open the door just as Candice reaches for the knob. They swarm a bunch of questions at me, just as Candice did when she picked me up. I’ve grown kind of used to it by now, considering it happens after every session, so I walk right past them without many words, other than the usual, “Yeah” and “M-hmm.” Oscar had already ran up to check our room, and came back to report that all was well. Our room has been untouched since we were last in it. Mom and Dad aren’t allowed in there, but I catch them every now and then, looking around for whatever they look around for.
“Evan, are you hungry?” Mom asks me in more of a perfunctory tone. She already knows my answer: Yes. A bowl of Raisin Bran. I head towards the kitchen to prepare my bowl when I see Kristen, my other sister from Charleston, sitting down at the table. Suddenly, I’m not in the mood to eat. However, Oscar continues like usual for his plant pot. I just want her gone. She’s always made me feel even worse with her perfect little life. Her boyfriend was with her too - Brian. Oh, Brian hates me, and I hate him. He always tries to rub his perfect little life in my face, with their perfect little relationship, and their perfect little baby boy, Matt: my nephew. Not to mention how he treats Oscar like a toy, always trying to touch him and pull him towards Matt. I prefer to stay away. This is all so abrupt. Why didn’t I know they were coming? What are they doing here? Dr. Robertson always says it’s rude to ask what you’re doing here. And I need to work on my manners, but it just came out.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, sounding like a statement.
“Well, hello to you too, Evan. Glad to see you’re doing well,” Kristen replied. Her sarcasm is already asinine. My parents, who weren’t so far behind me, are just now entering the room. “We haven’t been down here in Tempe to see y’all for a while, so we thought we’d visit for some family time. It was Mom and Dad’s idea. Aren’t you happy to see us?” I feel like her tone was all phony because our parents were present. Oscar continues eating away like nothing is the problem. This almost aggravates me because he isn’t annoyed the way I am.
“Why didn’t you call first?” I ask in response.
“Now, Evan, she’s your sister! Kristen doesn’t need to call before she shows up,” my mom interrupts, as she gives a short and caring embrace to Kristen. “I thought maybe we could take a trip to the zoo for Matt. Don’t you think that would be fun, Sweetie? The zoo?”
She always repeats things to me this way, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. I’ve learned that manners are important, so I nod my head pretending to be excited about yet another family trip to, I guess this time, the zoo. Mom and Dad never really arranged trips like these for me when I was little. How come Matt is so special? That’s right; he’s the offspring of two perfect people. He should be treated like a god.
Since Mom’s car only fits five, and there’s eight of us going, Candice volunteered to drive her car. Dad and Brian wanted to catch up on some things, and I guess it’s muy importante for Kristen and Brian to stay together for some reason. I guess that reason is Matt; I don’t know. Regardless, that leaves me and Oscar with Candice… and her keys.
~~~
One thing about our town that I’ve always loved was the Arizona heat. Oscar and I decided to stray from the rest of my kin, and as we’re walking, the sun is beaming constantly in my eyes, but I don’t feel like taking my shades off from where I left them to lay on my shirt. I feel like my sweat glands are the size of dimes. Nevermind; I don’t really like the heat here. But, having some alone time with Oscar is rare, so I’m taking advantage of this time to really bond with him. He’s a really bitter creature, he is. Quite outspoken, if I say so myself. I’m surprised no one ever calls him out on it. Sometimes he can be too blunt and abrasive, and I tell him he needs to work on his manners the way Dr. Robertson tells me, but no one else seems to really mind the fact that he’s ridiculously candid; even though, strangers stare right at him as he makes the forthright comments he’s so notorious for. One time, Mom collapsed and we had to wait in the hospital for her and Oscar’s incessant remarks toward the fat lady in front of us was repulsive. I kept telling him to quiet down, but he just wouldn’t listen. I guess she never heard him, because every time she would glance our way she would give a smile.
Still roaming the zoo, Oscar and I debate over which is better: pancakes or waffles (waffles, duh), Oscar stops at mid sentence, and a grimace grows upon him. I wasn’t looking at him when he paused, so I was confused at first, but then I turn toward him, and all I can read from the face he’s making, is pure disgust. I follow his gaze to the distance up ahead, and find Oscar’s eye contact locked with a giraffe’s, on display at the zoo. There’s an odd, prolonged silence that I don’t know how to disguise, so I fake a cough. I think I make it sound pretty realistic. Finally, I ask Oscar what the deal is, almost scared to discover the answer. He tells me a story about a dirty deal he made with his previous owner - before me. His name was Jeff, and Oscar had competition. Jeff had another giraffe, but he bullied Oscar all the time. He would question his pride and manhood, and beat him down with anything he could. They always argued and butted heads, and he began to bother Jeff, too. Oscar says that Jeff would always try to act as their mediator, but ultimately, one of them had to go. So, Jeff and Oscar agreed on the ridding of the enemy. Oscar’s telling the story sends an icy shiver down my spine. I’m beyond uncomfortable right now. I’m not quite sure if I want to know how they went about this “ridding of the enemy.” Luckily, Oscar is leaving that bit unexplained, as if I wouldn’t be able to handle the dirty business they did. And he’s right. Oscar is ruthless. But I’m also angry. Angry for Oscar. I already hate the enemy. How could he screw Oscar over like that? If it’s one person who doesn’t have manners, it’s him. But, behold: the enemy. Displayed here at the zoo, plain in sight and trotting along his day. I find it a problem that he isn’t in pain right now. He deserves to be writhing of it. Oscar is by my side, still talking about the way the enemy walked all over him. The fury is just building up inside of me and multiplying by the second. I feel compelled to murder this long-necked insolent. Without much further contemplation, I find myself running straight towards the bastard, with Oscar rooting me on. His encouragement really gets me excited to kill this idiot. I am certain that this imbecile will go to the ground. There’s a fence about ten feet high that I can probably climb in twelve seconds. I want to kill him now; twelve seconds to waste on a fence is twelve seconds more of his life. I’m nearing the pit where the giraffe is displayed, and choose to murder him after I get on top of him. So I slow down my run when I reach the tree, to the left of the enemy. The branches sticking out really make it easier for me; this is good. I collect as many small branches from the tree as I can, and jump onto the enemy’s back, stabbing profusely. Then, a huge force of agony hits the back of my head, and now I’m lost. Blank.
~~~
It’s really cold. Where did this gown come from? What’s this room, I’m in? The walls are eggshell colored and bare with no windows. It’s a small square area with just a hard bed and a ridiculously thick door. Where is Oscar? He would know what to do. I call for him. He doesn’t answer. Why is he not here with me… Wherever I am? Why am I not home? Is the enemy down? Does my family know I’m here? Do they care?! I’m screaming. I’m sweating. Oscar!! Where is he?! No, NO! OSCAR! Suddenly, the room doesn’t seem so quiet. The floor hit the ceiling, and the ceiling knocks me down. It’s spinning beneath me, and I can’t balance myself. OSCAR!! Where is he?! It’s hard to breathe. The bed was to my left; now, it’s over my head. The door used to be in the corner; now, I’m above it. A loud, long, three-second buzz racks my brain. He sent his men! The enemy sent his men! Three of them dressed in white coats come rushing in. They run right to me. I fight them off for exactly two seconds and four fifths, before I feel a sharp pinch in my neck, and doze off to the sight of him injecting me with a syringe. The last thing I remember is the chiming of Candice’s keys.
“And you don’t find it an issue to have to drag around a stuffed giraffe your parents gave you as a child, wherever you go?” he responded with a worrisome face. My therapist always looks that way; I hate it. “Don’t you ever think of it as a hassle?”
Did he really just ask me that? Is he stupid? I almost interrupted him right then and there. Then, I remembered that I’m supposed to try and work on my manners. So I decided against it. But, therapy is such a waste of time. Dr. Robertson never listens to the meaning behind my words. Obviously, it isn’t a hassle to bring him with me. Why would I do it if it were? Besides; Oscar is not a stuffed animal. He is perfectly capable of walking on his own. He’s one hundred percent ambulatory, and I prefer his company over anyone else’s. (He was a gift from my parents back when they loved me as an eight year old. But that was some fifteen years ago.) It’s common sense, these days, that’s hard to come across. I don’t want to waste my breath on stupid questions like these, so I simply answer, “No.”
~~~
Candice is one minute and forty seven seconds late... forty eight... forty nine… Oscar’s walking around aimlessly waiting as he sniffs around the leaves of the plants on display in the waiting room. He’s really gaunt, especially for his height. He finds a way to cleverly maneuver between the tall plants, almost like a figure - eight, wrapping his long neck around each of the trunks, to get to the branch he wants. Whenever I watch him do these things so casually, I always wonder how it would feel to be a giraffe. I’m stuck with a short human neck. I can’t twist it around tree trunks - no matter how hard I try. I’m at least thankful that my legs aren’t that skinny, and that I’m not that tall. Being 5’7” might be below average, but I don’t mind it.
After impatiently and vigorously shaking my leg up and down as if my life depended on the friction I was creating, Candice rushes through the door with the loud jingles of her keys, exactly two minutes and thirteen seconds late. I zoned out after that, and somehow ended up in the passenger seat to her car. She’s babbling and spitting a thousand questions about my session with Dr. Robertson today.
“...I’m telling you, Evan. You need to start taking these sessions more seriously, if you ever plan on getting better. I know you think they’re pointless and all, but mom and dad keep worrying, and your sister and I both agree that you’re not getting better. Do you need more medication? I can talk to Dr. Robertson about that if you think you need more. Or maybe you need less? Do you feel foggy at all since that new prescription was given to you? Evan, give me something to work with. I’m always here to care for you, you know that? ...Evan?”
“Huh?” I abruptly respond. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, I totally get it. The medicine is working fine.” As she continues with one of her methodical rampages, Oscar is in the back seat enjoying the breeze in his face from Candice’s convertible. I can see his mouth moving and eyebrows low. He’s mocking Candice’s nonsense, and that gets a chuckle out of me.
“You think this is funny? Your behavior is NOT something to laugh about. God, talking to you is just fruitless. All you do is talk to your toy pet…” This just makes me laugh even harder. I decide to join Oscar in mocking her even more, and not pay attention to another word she says.
We finally pull up to my parents’ house, where we find that another car is parked in front of Mom’s car. Everyone has their own car, but me - let alone their license. Everyone has their own perfect little life set for them: a prestigious job, their own home, a family they love… But me? No job. Still living here with my parents at twenty three, even though I’m fully capable of living on my own, although I’d, of course, have Oscar with me. But my parents are insistent, and they “only want the best for me.” So I stay with them, fully aware that they hate me. Once we get to the driveway, Oscar hops out almost immediately to see who the unwelcomed guests are, as he screams about how our room better not be occupied. He hasn’t been having the loveliest nights this past week, considering his “giraffe instincts” that persist of bad news to come… Whatever that means.
As I follow Candice up to the the doorstep, I try to figure out who’s car is parked in the driveway, but before I get to conclude my leads, Mom and Dad open the door just as Candice reaches for the knob. They swarm a bunch of questions at me, just as Candice did when she picked me up. I’ve grown kind of used to it by now, considering it happens after every session, so I walk right past them without many words, other than the usual, “Yeah” and “M-hmm.” Oscar had already ran up to check our room, and came back to report that all was well. Our room has been untouched since we were last in it. Mom and Dad aren’t allowed in there, but I catch them every now and then, looking around for whatever they look around for.
“Evan, are you hungry?” Mom asks me in more of a perfunctory tone. She already knows my answer: Yes. A bowl of Raisin Bran. I head towards the kitchen to prepare my bowl when I see Kristen, my other sister from Charleston, sitting down at the table. Suddenly, I’m not in the mood to eat. However, Oscar continues like usual for his plant pot. I just want her gone. She’s always made me feel even worse with her perfect little life. Her boyfriend was with her too - Brian. Oh, Brian hates me, and I hate him. He always tries to rub his perfect little life in my face, with their perfect little relationship, and their perfect little baby boy, Matt: my nephew. Not to mention how he treats Oscar like a toy, always trying to touch him and pull him towards Matt. I prefer to stay away. This is all so abrupt. Why didn’t I know they were coming? What are they doing here? Dr. Robertson always says it’s rude to ask what you’re doing here. And I need to work on my manners, but it just came out.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, sounding like a statement.
“Well, hello to you too, Evan. Glad to see you’re doing well,” Kristen replied. Her sarcasm is already asinine. My parents, who weren’t so far behind me, are just now entering the room. “We haven’t been down here in Tempe to see y’all for a while, so we thought we’d visit for some family time. It was Mom and Dad’s idea. Aren’t you happy to see us?” I feel like her tone was all phony because our parents were present. Oscar continues eating away like nothing is the problem. This almost aggravates me because he isn’t annoyed the way I am.
“Why didn’t you call first?” I ask in response.
“Now, Evan, she’s your sister! Kristen doesn’t need to call before she shows up,” my mom interrupts, as she gives a short and caring embrace to Kristen. “I thought maybe we could take a trip to the zoo for Matt. Don’t you think that would be fun, Sweetie? The zoo?”
She always repeats things to me this way, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. I’ve learned that manners are important, so I nod my head pretending to be excited about yet another family trip to, I guess this time, the zoo. Mom and Dad never really arranged trips like these for me when I was little. How come Matt is so special? That’s right; he’s the offspring of two perfect people. He should be treated like a god.
Since Mom’s car only fits five, and there’s eight of us going, Candice volunteered to drive her car. Dad and Brian wanted to catch up on some things, and I guess it’s muy importante for Kristen and Brian to stay together for some reason. I guess that reason is Matt; I don’t know. Regardless, that leaves me and Oscar with Candice… and her keys.
~~~
One thing about our town that I’ve always loved was the Arizona heat. Oscar and I decided to stray from the rest of my kin, and as we’re walking, the sun is beaming constantly in my eyes, but I don’t feel like taking my shades off from where I left them to lay on my shirt. I feel like my sweat glands are the size of dimes. Nevermind; I don’t really like the heat here. But, having some alone time with Oscar is rare, so I’m taking advantage of this time to really bond with him. He’s a really bitter creature, he is. Quite outspoken, if I say so myself. I’m surprised no one ever calls him out on it. Sometimes he can be too blunt and abrasive, and I tell him he needs to work on his manners the way Dr. Robertson tells me, but no one else seems to really mind the fact that he’s ridiculously candid; even though, strangers stare right at him as he makes the forthright comments he’s so notorious for. One time, Mom collapsed and we had to wait in the hospital for her and Oscar’s incessant remarks toward the fat lady in front of us was repulsive. I kept telling him to quiet down, but he just wouldn’t listen. I guess she never heard him, because every time she would glance our way she would give a smile.
Still roaming the zoo, Oscar and I debate over which is better: pancakes or waffles (waffles, duh), Oscar stops at mid sentence, and a grimace grows upon him. I wasn’t looking at him when he paused, so I was confused at first, but then I turn toward him, and all I can read from the face he’s making, is pure disgust. I follow his gaze to the distance up ahead, and find Oscar’s eye contact locked with a giraffe’s, on display at the zoo. There’s an odd, prolonged silence that I don’t know how to disguise, so I fake a cough. I think I make it sound pretty realistic. Finally, I ask Oscar what the deal is, almost scared to discover the answer. He tells me a story about a dirty deal he made with his previous owner - before me. His name was Jeff, and Oscar had competition. Jeff had another giraffe, but he bullied Oscar all the time. He would question his pride and manhood, and beat him down with anything he could. They always argued and butted heads, and he began to bother Jeff, too. Oscar says that Jeff would always try to act as their mediator, but ultimately, one of them had to go. So, Jeff and Oscar agreed on the ridding of the enemy. Oscar’s telling the story sends an icy shiver down my spine. I’m beyond uncomfortable right now. I’m not quite sure if I want to know how they went about this “ridding of the enemy.” Luckily, Oscar is leaving that bit unexplained, as if I wouldn’t be able to handle the dirty business they did. And he’s right. Oscar is ruthless. But I’m also angry. Angry for Oscar. I already hate the enemy. How could he screw Oscar over like that? If it’s one person who doesn’t have manners, it’s him. But, behold: the enemy. Displayed here at the zoo, plain in sight and trotting along his day. I find it a problem that he isn’t in pain right now. He deserves to be writhing of it. Oscar is by my side, still talking about the way the enemy walked all over him. The fury is just building up inside of me and multiplying by the second. I feel compelled to murder this long-necked insolent. Without much further contemplation, I find myself running straight towards the bastard, with Oscar rooting me on. His encouragement really gets me excited to kill this idiot. I am certain that this imbecile will go to the ground. There’s a fence about ten feet high that I can probably climb in twelve seconds. I want to kill him now; twelve seconds to waste on a fence is twelve seconds more of his life. I’m nearing the pit where the giraffe is displayed, and choose to murder him after I get on top of him. So I slow down my run when I reach the tree, to the left of the enemy. The branches sticking out really make it easier for me; this is good. I collect as many small branches from the tree as I can, and jump onto the enemy’s back, stabbing profusely. Then, a huge force of agony hits the back of my head, and now I’m lost. Blank.
~~~
It’s really cold. Where did this gown come from? What’s this room, I’m in? The walls are eggshell colored and bare with no windows. It’s a small square area with just a hard bed and a ridiculously thick door. Where is Oscar? He would know what to do. I call for him. He doesn’t answer. Why is he not here with me… Wherever I am? Why am I not home? Is the enemy down? Does my family know I’m here? Do they care?! I’m screaming. I’m sweating. Oscar!! Where is he?! No, NO! OSCAR! Suddenly, the room doesn’t seem so quiet. The floor hit the ceiling, and the ceiling knocks me down. It’s spinning beneath me, and I can’t balance myself. OSCAR!! Where is he?! It’s hard to breathe. The bed was to my left; now, it’s over my head. The door used to be in the corner; now, I’m above it. A loud, long, three-second buzz racks my brain. He sent his men! The enemy sent his men! Three of them dressed in white coats come rushing in. They run right to me. I fight them off for exactly two seconds and four fifths, before I feel a sharp pinch in my neck, and doze off to the sight of him injecting me with a syringe. The last thing I remember is the chiming of Candice’s keys.