I begin to pace my second story room, stomping at the dust bunnies and choking at their dirt filled mess, my eyes water and I feel fulfilled because I finally have a goal. Something to work for, something to live forth, and something that I know I can succeed at because it is what exactly I am good at. I plan and I plan and I plan more and more to make it all right to make the Rogers all mine, but there is one chink in the chain of perfection, there is one mistake that I can’t overcome and I know that I will have to overcome one way or another because it will bring my plan to disaster if I don’t.
The father. Mr. Rogers is no father that I want because he may prove to be just as wretched and horrid as my own father and may drink dark liquors that make him slur his words and beat me with his fists cheering himself on, since no mother like Margaret would ever cheer on such evil. No he is unworthy to be the father that I can be, I know of it, I know I will be the best choice of fathers because I care and I love and you can never care and love too much. You can only not love enough and I develop a stunning realization…I have to be the father.
But how, I mean in what way? Well maybe, maybe I need recast for the role and terminate his position fully. I look through the glass and see that the Rogers have retreated back unto their humble abode they hiss into my ear pick up the damn phone you idiot.
I snarl back into the nothingness, “Shut up mouths mother, father, Ms. Juniper! This is my plan and I will decide what to do.” No response. Good I need to take control, I need to do what’s right, for me and I pick up the phone. The dial tone screeches into my ear. This is the first phone call I have made in awhile; I hope I don’t forget anything in particular. Before I know it the line is ringing and joy ripples through my heart, shockwaves of ecstasy fill my veins as I wait in anticipation.
“Hello, this is the Rogers residence.”
“Yes!” I yell in delight and I begin to gnaw at my bottom lip still formulating what I will say through the phone, still hoping that it will work as I decide what lies to bring Mr. Rogers out of his cave and to his tomb. I hold my breath as I try to force the eloquence through my teeth. It’s been so long that I have spoken to another person that the whole process is debilitating, but Ms. Juniper taught us well, bashing our knuckles with rulers each time she saw a grammatical error in our common language and even worse when we were foolish enough to put it down on paper. She believed it reflected badly on herself if we went out into the world speaking and writing as what she would call “buffoons.”
“Who is this?” Dammit, I’ve taken too long to make a proper excuse, now I have to compose myself. Okay self relax, go forth and talk respectable, genuinely, but above all lie through your teeth and show no trace of fallacy.
“Yes, Mr. Rogers, I do so apologize calling you at this time and I am quite embarrassed to ask you for help, but I just can’t figure it out.” Mr. Rogers sighs in exasperation as this conversation was already daunting and that I was annoying him already.
“And you are?”
“Cathy’s son from next door, in the green house.”
“Oh Yes! Cathy, she never mentioned having a son if I can recall, but either way how is Cathy doing?” Dammit another thing to think about and I’m getting frustrated. I don’t believe he’ll come over if he knew the truth, maybe another lie will have to suffice.
“She’s fine as I recall, she left unto ummm…Florida for some well deserved vacation and the like. She has some friends down their so I believe she won’t be back for some time.”
“Well good for her, either way you said you needed something?”
“Well yes, in all honesty something is wrong with my fuse box and I am unable to get the lights working within the house, I was wondering if you could come over and provide me with some assistance?”