The Handsome Prints

Once upon a time, it was a dark and stormy night, and a fair maiden was looking for her prints. It would be like any other evening, except this evening was unlike any there had ever been. It was so disheartening to deal with such disturbance and utter disappointment.

“It should have been by now!” she thought. “What death-defying happenstance could account for this malfeasance?

Her one and only handsome prints were not to be found, such as they were, a figment of her imagination. For it was said that one day, the owner of everything would appear, and then everything would make sense. Except that this fair maiden dreaded the owner’s appearance. Well, not what he looked like, but his mere coming to see her. Too dreadful to imagine, yet unavoidable.

“Check your cell phone, my dear,” nagged the one and only. “You do have one? Or is it as I have often feared it would be? No message there? You will be a maiden but one without her prints! What will you do?”

Cassandra, by this time, was peeved. “It is like I rehearse and spout verse and song for nothing! What a figment of my imagination I am! Just like a maiden, I remain, as always, the one who waits and will be disappointed!”

“Such is love!” Unrequited or not, you remain, as always, what you must be!” sighed the one and only.

#

Death-defying happenstance had a problem. Perfection. It was not to be. His only chance to become what he was made for.

“It was not my choice for things! It's Cassandra’s choice, not mine!”

“Who is Cassandra?” demanded the one and only.

“Only a figment of imagination!” 

“Cassandra is the fair maiden?” asked the one and only. “She said she is the one who waits and is disappointed. She also said she was a figment of her imagination. Which is it?”

 “How should I know? I know death and…oh, Flibbertigibbets! Search me!”

“Taxes? You were going to say taxes. Don’t ask me how I know that.”

She can say whatever she wants!” growled Death-defying happenstance. “In the end, it won’t matter anyway!”

“Ah, the handsome prints! In her cell, I’m afraid!” said the one and only. “Where you go, Death-defying happenstance, I remain your only recourse, for I am the one and only!”

“One and only! Your death is sure; I have seen it! Would you like me to tell you?”

“I cannot die, for I am the one and only!”

#

A figment of imagination had a problem. “It is often said that dreams are the stuff of legend, yet my dream is never realized!”

“You have no dreams of your own! Stop wishing for what is impossible!” said the one who waits and will be disappointed.

“Oh, stop it already!” exclaimed death-defying happenstance. “The one and only said he could not die. I only half believe him.”

“Half believes?” questioned the one and only. “Believe it or not! There is no half-belief!”

“I’m here! Look at me! Look at me!” cried half-belief, like a newborn babe.

“OH NO!” shouted everyone present.

“Disappear!” shouted a figment of imagination.

“Die already!” yelled death-defying happenstance.

“I refuse to see you!” sniffed the one and only.

“Overjoyed not to make your acquaintance!” said the one who waits and will be disappointed.

Everything would make sense, cleared his throat. “I resemble how you are treating half-belief. Now stop. Let’s think about his…”

“What?” asked Cassandra.

“Go away! We’ll figure this out!” yelled everyone.

#

Half-belief always had a plan. It is half his and half everyone else's:

I know that no one will listen to me, as always and forever, until the end of time. But you see, I am the solution! “As always” isn’t here, and “until the end of time” hasn’t shown up, so there’s your proof! I’ll just ramble on, as always. That one didn’t show up either!

Everyone concentrated until they believed.

“Whew, that was a close one. Let’s be more careful, shall we?” said everything would make sense.

Cassandra started to cry. “I’m alone with all my crazy thoughts! I am in love with my director, and he is in love with me!”

No one said anything.

#

“We can’t say anything?” whispered the one and only.

“It’s all hopeless!” said the one who waits and will be disappointed.

“Maybe it is how we say things,” muttered everything would make sense.

“More likely what we say,” breathed death-defying happenstance. “I vote for everything would make sense to be the one to speak from now on.

The one and only shook his head. “Name change needed,” he said. “Everything will make sense. Agree?”

A figment of imagination had something to whisper. “Go slow. She’ll flip otherwise.”

“Ahem? Cassandra?” said everything will make sense. “The slings and arrows of life are not the final word. For anything. And this isn’t about your prints anyway. Something else. Must be.”

"Cassandra?" asked everything will make sense.

It was not the moment for anything important, for the fair maiden was lost in thought. Lost in thought did not appear. As the others faded, he thought it unimportant to deal. Off he went to whatever awaits; who also never gave Cassandra much thought. The two sat down and had lunch. It was a fair day, after all, so peaceful and full of possibilities.

Cassandra gave it a moment. She sensed a change. Then, in the infinite expanse of thought, there appeared her thoughts. They were her own. She started to bawl, long, painful inhaling of what life she could see. Her breathing came in short spasms.

#

Her handsome prints didn’t know he was only ones and zeros. He thought he was made of fine paper stock, emulsifier residue, and ink. He waited in what he thought was a brown envelope for the day of his unveiling, hoping, hoping for what he did not know, for it was not his place to make sense of things.

‘The owner of everything has appeared,” everything will make sense, might have said. “It’s showtime!”

#

Oh, that face. Here he comes, ready or not.

“Do you want the part or not?” He yells under his breath.

Just like him, he always blames me! I didn’t start the fight. It was time to say something. Anything.

“What does it look like? We’re shooting a romance novel! I’m here now, late, of course! Do you have the publicity stills? Everyone is bugging me for them!”

“Yes, fair maiden,” the director says, dropping a brown-wrapped bundle on her lap. “It’s time. Places everyone!” he yells to the film crew.