I'm writing this to you, because I don't know who else to tell. It's so fucking odd, and I have no explanation. I would have called you on the phone, but...
well, you'll see why I didn't once you get done reading this. I guess I should just jump right in and get started, so let me take you back in time just a
smidge. I had thought I met the man of my dreams. Yeah yeah, I know, you've heard me say that before, but he was really cool. His name was Bill. You know, as
in, " I met him on a Monday and his name was..." Ah fuck it I hate that song. Plus I always preferred William. Anyway, my co workers at "Pleasant Voices Inc"
were getting perturbed at my head hanging low all the time, and my constant complaining about how lonely I am. So surprise surprise, they all got together
and set me up on a date with this guy. It wasn't really a blind date, since I knew who he was. Still, there were rumors going around that he had a crush on
me, and though I knew I was away out of his league, (or so I thought at the time, woo just wait) I knew that, since it was all planned out in advance, that
I would look like a bitch and a prude if I said no, and in addition to that, the jabbing provided by my coworkers, (all in fun of course. Right, sure) would
never end. So that Friday, after a long day of finishing up a narration of "The One Ring Circus: How The Recession Destroyed 2 Out Of 3 Rings" Bill (he liked
to be called Bill, I didn't care, I called him William anyway, humph) William, nervously approached me. He was a little bit shorter than me, I'd say he was
5'8. He mumbled a lot when he talked, which when you read and speak for a living as I do, can be a bit of a pet peeve. I was determined not to say anything
about it however, as my best friend Scott, in the creative department, told me that William had taken on some sort of missionary position in (ok mind exit
gutter you freak ha ha) Thailand, and had been the victim of some strange tongue stretching ritual, because his Thai translation of "I need to go to the
bathroom" had been smudged in the book. Still, while William was over there, he did help a lot of
people. He was indeed a kind man, and even though I really
didn't feel any sexual attraction to him, I figured that I would enjoy a nice night out, and that would be that. So here he was, standing before me, sweating
like you wouldn't believe, trying to stammer out "I was wondering if you weren't busy..." I let him off the hook early. " I would be happy to go out with
you. Yes." (Let me tell you I had never noticed how hairy this guy was. He had a full beard, and from a distance was one thing, but up close ewww) He went on
to explain to me that he had wanted to ask me out since he first saw me, but had been scared. I laughed and said, "No need to be scared to ask someone out,
the worst they can say is no." (Actually in this case, the worst I could say was " Oh my God you have to be fucking kidding me you mumbling, short, hairy,
sweaty man, I wouldn't give you the time of day if you had 24 hours to live") But come on now, would I say something that mean ? Shut up. Anyway, he
explained that he had given this a lot of thought, and had planned out various surprises and such. He asked me for my cell number, and asked me if 7 would be
a good time to call and get directions to my apartment. Since it was only 2, that would give me 5 hours to get out of going..err I mean to get ready. So I
said "Sure."
Driving home I distinctly recall feeling a dreadful presence. I assumed that it was either the anticipation of a very boring evening, or I was getting
ready to start my period. Just to be on the safe side, I pulled into a Walgreens, and picked up some pads. You aren't going to believe this, but all they had
left were "Super Jumbo Heavy" style, and the credit swipe thingies was broken. Keep in mind that the store was packed, and of course there's only one teller
working. So there I was, with a line of about 20 people behind me, digging in my purse for change, and the teller spots a coupon on the packaging. But he
doesn't know if I can use it at the time of purchase. So he gets on the intercom, and calls over the manager. They then have a very audible discussion about
whether the manufacturer coupon for "Super Jumbo Heavy" pads is redeemable at purchase. Finally they decide that it is, I save my whopping 50 cents, and red
faced and embarrassed exit the store and get into my car. I insert the key into the ignition, and turn it. Nothing. I felt a cold chill travel down my
spine, and I tried again. Thank goodness, she fired up. nothing eventful happened for the rest of the drive home, well except the truck full of intoxicated
guys at the stop light, (at roughly 3 in the afternoon mind you) that ever so eloquently asked to "See my tits" and wolf whistled and made rude gestures,
before peeling out in front of me, and nearly swerving into oncoming traffic. I flashed them the finger, and they yelled "Fuck you bitch!" (I'm sure they
meant that in the nicest way possible.)
I arrived at home and checked my mail. Some woman last name of Parker keeps getting mail at my address, despite numerous attempts to inform the necessary
parties that no one with that name lives here. And hey, what do you know, today is no exception. I jotted down, return to sender, while humming the
obligatory Elvis tune, then tossed the mail back into the box, and raised the flag. I went on inside, and took off my shoes. Then I flipped on the
television. I was feeling particularly keyed up. There was just this overall feeling that something was wrong. I headed to the bathroom to check on the
suspicions I had earlier. Nope, that was not the problem. Perhaps I was over stressed. Narrating that Circus book really took a lot out of me. It was very
emotionally draining. It dawned on me that perhaps I just needed some good old fashioned stress relief. I looked at the clock, shit! I grabbed the TV remote.
Flip, news, flip, True Blood, flip, crap. Ahh guide! guide! guide! Whew, there it was, "The Price Is Right" now you know my ritual, but no one else does, and
I'd like to keep it that way. I know, I know, I'm weird, but if word got out that I could only have an orgasm when "The Price Is Right" is on, well you can
just imagine. I only had about 15 minutes of show left, so I had to hurry. Thank goodness everything worked out ok. I was feeling drowsy, and still had some
time to kill, so I set my alarm and took an hour nap. I had a horrible nightmare, in it I was at work, with my notes in front of me ready to read. But all
the words were written in what looked like Japanese! I startled myself awake just as the alarm went off. I smacked it, then felt the most bizarre sensation
from the top of my head to the pit of my stomach. I ran to the bathroom and got sick.
As I was composing myself, the phone rang. I dashed into the living room and answered the phone. I said "Hello ?" well, here comes the strange part. I tried
to say hello, but no words would come out. I couldn't get my tongue and lips to work properly. All that came out was an odd grunting sound. It was Scott on
the phone, he said hello a few times and then hung up. I was freaking the fuck out. I ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror. I didn't appear to have
anything wrong with me. I could move my lips and tongue just fine, until I tried to speak. I could smile, and frown, and otherwise manipulate my face, so I
obviously hadn't had a stroke. I frantically looked inside the medicine cabinet for something that might help. I glanced across the labels, and found a bottle
of Ibuprofen. "Ibuprofen" I read out loud, as I reached for the bottle. Then I froze, and the bottle slipped out of my fingers and hit the floor. I tried to
say the word again, but could not. I looked directly at the bottle, and knelt down. I read the label "Ibuprofen". My cell rang. Shit, I thought to myself, it
was William. I would have to cancel. But how ? I didn't answer it. I knew if I just ignored his calls, that either A: my co workers would be really pissed at
me, B: Someone would be an ass and give him my address and he'd show up anyway, C: He'd contact Pleasant Voices and everyone would show up here, worried, or
D: He'd call the police and they'd think I was on drugs or crazy. My cell rang again. In a panic, I answered it. I frantically looked around and spied my
mail. I grabbed it. I read "5322 Norma Drive" He said, "Cool, then I take it you're ready ?" I said "5322 Norma Drive" He said "o k then, I'll be there in an
hour!" I hung up. crap, I thought. How was I going to do this ?
Then I had what I thought was a bright idea. if i could speak what I read, I would just write down "Sorry Can't Go With You, Please Take Me To The Hospital.
I am having trouble speaking" As I gripped the pen to write, my hand started shaking as if in a seizure. I couldn't fucking steady my hand to write. Goddamn
it! I thought.
I took a deep breath and tried again. My hands trembled so horribly the pen slipped out of my grasp and fell to the floor. Tears poured from my eyes as I
realized the gravity of my situation. For some reason, who knows why, I couldn't say a word unless I read it out loud. Perhaps it was some sort of subliminal
curse, from years of scanning page after page and speaking what I was commanded to by the paper in front of me. Deep down I prayed that it was a temporary
condition, and gathered myself to try and make it through this date without William thinking I was insane. Just then a knock at the door. I stood up, and
wiped my eyes. Composure. Ok. I answered the door. It was a florist. One dozen
red roses. The floral delivery man asked me if I was the lady of the house. I nodded my head. He placed the flowers in my outstretched hands, and wished us a
wonderful evening together....HUH? Stepping into my doorway directly replacing the flower guy was William. "Beautiful flowers, for a beautiful lady" he said.
I was just about floored by his appearance. In all the years I had seen him working, I had never seen him look like this. Don't get me wrong. I know looks
aren't everything, but I had only ever seen this man dressed as a mechanic slash engineer, covered in grease. He stood before me clean shaven for what had to
be the first time in 10 years. To my delight and extreme surprise, he was very handsome underneath all that facial hair. He was dressed nice, very
presentable without being overdressed. This was good, I thought, because I had not taken the time to preen, and had a really casual look going. I gestured
him inside and pointed at the couch. I held up my finger in a one second gesture, and proceeded to the bathroom to freshen up my makeup. "You have a really
nice place here" he said. Oh crap, what do I do, he'll think I'm the most rude bitch. I scanned the bathroom for something to read. Ahh, Better Homes And
Gardens Magazine. Flip flip flip, here we go, "50 ways To Say Thank You To Someone You Care About" "Thank you," I read out loud so he could hear me. "Your
welcome," he said. "I was really nervous about this date, you know ?" I was fixing my eyeliner (it dawned on my how absurd it was that I could use eyeliner,
yet not hold a pen and write simple words) and was almost ready to leave. It had occurred to me before, but now it was becoming painfully obvious that I
would have to continually scan my surroundings for things to read out loud in response to his conversation with me. I could answer yes or no questions by
nodding my head in the necessary fashion, so the way I saw it I could come off as extremely prude, or very shy. Or hell even really stupid. One thing that was
very clear to me is that I had grossly underestimated the hand I had been dealt with this date. I wasn't so sure I wanted to blow it off anymore. I exited
the bathroom and gestured to him that I was ready to leave. I grabbed my keys and purse and followed him into the hallway, locking the door behind me.
We walked to the elevator and took it to the ground floor of the apartment building. On their way through the lobby to the parking area, the apartment
manager (an older, silvery haired woman named Margaret) said "I saw the flowers, classy fellow you've got here. You two have a nice time out now." She smiled
at us and I nodded. (I was beginning to feel like a bobble head doll) William said, "I'm sure we will." Before he could say anything else, I noticed the
manager's nametag, and took the opportunity to speak. I indirectly pointed at her and read "Margaret."
I felt like a idiot. in the back of my mind I heard the familiar "Me Tarzan, you Jane!" Followed by a vision of Frankenstein, pointing and saying "Mar ga
ret!", and laughing madly. On our way out the door (which he held for me), he asked, "has she been the manager here a long time ?" I shook my head. He
pointed at a blue Nissan and we approached it. "Nissan" I said, reading the logo. "Yeah" he said, opening the door for me, "it's nice on gas, and it has some
get up and go when it needs". His car was pretty clean. While I'm all for cleanliness, this afforded me no opportunities to read my immediate surroundings to
provide responses and idle chatter. I fastened my seatbelt and as he fastened his, he asked me, "so where would you like to go?" Shit! I thought he said he
had this all planned out. I could feel his eyes locked on to my face. I tried to do my best impression of someone thinking, and for once wished he would look
at my breasts instead of my eyes, so that I could find a word. I scanned quickly from as far left as possible to as far right. I saw nothing. I felt a bead of
sweat roll into my eye. Then I looked at his dashboard. Ah ha! I shrugged my shoulders and read, "drive." He said "no place in mind?" I shook my head. "Price
is no object," he said, eyeballing me. This time I think he might have been looking at my tits. Goddamn it man just drive! I thought. Then I shrugged and re
read the word drive off his dash. He said, "ok then, I guess we will see what we can come up with." I bobbled my head in agreement. We pulled on to the main
road, And as we drove he began to talk to me. "Why are you being so quiet?" He asked. I shrugged. "I don't bite," he said. I smiled at him. I could tell how
much he really liked me, and that my smile had left him speechless. Good. I put my hand down in the seat, in an obvious, it's ok if you want to hold my hand
gesture. He took the bait. He grabbed my hand. It felt nice. He had workers hands, masculine and very sexy. For a moment I felt a slight dizziness, but it
passed. Up the road I spied an "Olive Garden. I said "Olive Garden". He nodded at ME for a change, and we drove up and pulled in. I saw a sign that said "15
Minute parker take out only" Wait a minute, parker ? I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Parking. I knew I must have seen that wrong. We parked and he came
around and opened my door, took my hand and said, something completely incomprehensible. In a knee jerk reaction, I said "I can't understand a word of what
you are saying" Wow! I spoke! He laughed heartily and took my hand. he said something else, and it sounded very Japanese. Great, now I can talk, but I can't
understand him. I peered around me and all the signs and writing were indeed now in Japanese. As we walked into the restaurant I remained as calm as possible.
A woman approached us. From her tone and gesture, and William's reaction, she was going to seat us. I thought, just for a second, that her nametag said
Margaret on it. But then I saw all it had on it was Japanese writing. It seemed as though William could still understand me, so I told him I had to go to the
restroom. He said, well, something and nodded his head. I told him I wanted the garden salad and breadsticks. He said something else, I smiled and headed to
the facilities. I couldn't read the signs, so I had to watch until a woman exited, in order to go into the right door. Wait a minute.. I work with her! I
said "excuse me miss, sorry to bother you, do you work at a place called "Pleasant Voices Inc"? She turned to look at me, smiled really big, and hurried off.
It WAS her. I had to pee really bad, but I took the opportunity to glance around some more, and I seemed to see more and more people from work. All jabbering
away in Japanese. I must be going crazy. I figured better to be crazy without peeing my pants, however, and found a stall. As I sat down, I heard the muzac
from the restaurant playing "Return To Sender" I chuckled, that song reminded me of...shit! I started my period. I reached into my purse, of course, no pads.
Just..Envelopes. 2,3,4,5,6 unopened envelopes. All to Parker. I can't ever remember getting as much mail as she gets. Ever. Holy crap I was really heavy. I
hadn't noticed a feminine napkin dispenser, not that I'd have been able to read it anyway, to know what it was. My luck it would probably have taken yen. I'd
just grab some toilet paper, and...you have to be kidding me. No paper. I inspected the dispenser. (I was reminded of a story I'd read a long time ago about
a guy who committed suicide. Toilet paper might have saved his life) thank goodness, there was a roll in the top of the dispenser. It fell down into the
slot, and I wadded up a makeshift sanitary napkin. I carefully placed it, stood up and flushed the toilet. I washed my hands and read the chrome hot and cold
knobs, they read Thai..something, then H for hot I supposed, and Thai...something then C for cold. I wasn't seeing Japanese, it was Thai. A memory flashed in
my brain, my friend Scott. Telling me about William...He had been the victim of some strange tongue stretching ritual, because his Thai translation of "I need
to go to the bathroom" My cell phone rang, and I reached into my purse to answer it. It was Scott. "We're all waiting, Parker, The Price Is Right Is On"
"What ?" I exclaimed, "what did you call me ? My name isn't Parker silly, it's...it well it... ok ha ha I can't remember my own name. Who drugged me." Scott
?! The phone was dead, no response. Why had he called me Parker ? And why The Price Is Right ? Exiting the bathroom, I saw William, but he looked different.
His beard was back, he looked older. He held up a Thai translation book and pointed to a smudged page. And he was surrounded by clowns. "You're the star of
the circus Parker!" He said. upon saying this he stepped back and 4 clowns rushed me. They grabbed my arms and legs, and lifted me into the air. As I
struggled against the clowns I screamed. William entered my field of vision, and grabbed my tongue with a metal pinching device. "You want to be done in time
for The Price Is Right, don't you ?" He said, and circus music was playing in the background. I must have passed out, because when I woke up, I was here in
this locked room, with only a pen and paper. I keep forgetting how I got here, so I wrote this letter, so that when they ask, you can read it to them. It's
taken a very long time to remember this much. And writing seems to be very difficult. This much I know. I am, rather you are, since you are reading this
and you wrote it to yourself, Parker. William is the man of your dreams, meaning that outside of this crazy recollection of how you got here, he doesn't seem
to exist. What you have just read is the truth. They are the enemy. They keep talking about an accident. Being rendered mute. Something about
brain damage. A man comes in from time to time, he says he's your husband. Come to think of it, he looks like the nice, clean shaven William from your dream. He
tells you that you used to work for "Pleasant Voices Inc." He says they are paying for all your treatment. He even brought you a nice book to listen to. "The One
Ring Circus: How The Recession Destroyed 2 Out Of 3 Rings" He says it's the last book you narrated before the accident. You like listening. He tells you they're
back to 3 rings now. Guess the recession ended 20 years or so ago. Anyway keep this letter where you can read it, Parker. And it will help you remember.
And maybe one day we'll get out of here. Or wake up and realize it was all a bad dream. Da do run run run...ah you hate that fucking song.
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