Mr. Skinny Legs

I got up early this morning – first mistake. Should’ve stayed asleep. Should’ve just let the notification delivery wake me. Then I wouldn’t have sat in the chair and stared out the window. Like a dog waiting for its owner.

Kept looking over at the herd. They stared back at me, their marble eyes haunting me. They knew they’d be getting a brother soon. Must have been excited. Must have known the new one wouldn’t be any different, wouldn’t be like the old one. Wouldn’t be like Mr. Skinny Legs.

A van drove by and I thought it was the post office. I lost my temper again and smashed the remote against the wall. Then I felt worse than usual. Probably scared the mooses. Probably made them afraid of me. They wouldn’t enjoy their new friend b/c I didn’t approve. Every time they looked at him they’d remember his owner throwing a fit b/c it wasn’t like the old one, b/c new one’s legs were too fat. It wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t the new one’s fault. I don’t deserve them.

The mail arrived. I tore through the package quickly so the letdown wouldn’t be as bad. It was what I expected. Antlers were hard and nose wasn’t soft and legs were too thick. I set him next to the others where he’ll fit in.

Maybe they forgave me. If they did it’s b/c they didn’t see. They didn’t see me hurt their ancestor, the one who loved me and I brought to bed every night. If they only saw how I decapitated him and ripped his stuffing from his head and crammed him down the trash b/c of what Mom said. Maybe if I

No. Stop dwelling. It’s okay. It’s b/c we were quarantined too long, like couples who weren’t meant to spend more than four hours together at a time. It was b/c she held on too close and let her fear drive her crazy. It’s okay she’s gone. I’m too old anyway. People usually stop talking to their moms before 28. We had a good run.

I stopped myself from driving to the store when I thought they might have more in stock, the original ones. Probably discontinued anyway. Plus driving isn’t worth it. Haven’t driven since moving here. It’s nice – no threat of death. Roads are busier than ever. Everyone willing to risk their lives as soon as it’s “safe” again. Why did I ever drive? Why did I ever put myself in danger? She was right. It’s never worth it.

Their website says masks aren’t required anymore. I’d be the only one wearing one. The outcast. The paranoid lunatic. The 28 yr old loser buying a stuffed moose with a mask on. They’d think I was a creep and call security. They’d ban me from every store and shun me forever, not that it would matter but still.

Even if I didn’t die in an accident on the way I’d see the old places, places that were never abandoned or torn down in the pandemic. They stay there, just for me, just to torture me. They’re okay but I’m not. They survived but I didn’t.

I’d have to drive by Lola’s house. I’d see the green door to her apartment and think of all the times we laid together and talked for hours, before everything ended. Not like lovers. Just friends. Naked and vulnerable friends. When no one thought twice about breathing on each other. Worse that would happen is get a cold. Or the clap. But nothing serious. Maybe I shouldn’t have ghosted her. If I knew it was my last chance I wouldn’t have.

I’d also have to drive by the office, everyone walking in with their coffee and briefcases like the world wasn’t over. Standing around during daily huddles talking about sports. Complete disregard for those of us still being responsible, still staying home and doing our part just in case it ends again like last time.

Wish Kelly still worked from home. She went back as soon as they let us. Took her first chance to do what was “best for her mental health.” Wish I could IM her. Just say hi. I keep typing and deleting it. Sometime she might see the three typing dots in the chat and reach out. Then I’d have an excuse.

She made the days shorter. We’d do walking wednesdays around the building. She’s the only one I told about Lola. Said she was a freak but in a good way. Kelly laughed and I knew what she assumed. Didn’t correct her – nice to know what she thought.

I also told her about Mom. Told her we weren’t getting along. Kelly said to be honest. Remind her I’m an adult and say what’s bothering me. I believed her. Drafted my whole speech. But Mr. Skinny Legs kept staring at me on my desk, his twig legs spread out from underneath him. He said not to do it. He was biased – Mom’s the one who brought him home from the store those years ago. Should’ve listened. If I did maybe he’d still have a head.

Had a dream I drove to the store and it was just like before. Not afraid of being t-boned. I went to the toy section and tossed the elephants and giraffes aside. I saw the row of mooses but didn’t see him yet.

A sales lady asked if I needed help. I told her I didn’t know. She smiled and nodded and told me to ask her if I did. I watched her walk away. The mooses were waiting for me. But I didn’t feel anything. They sat there wide eyed and hopeful to meet their new friends. I’d just disappoint them. They were better off in the zoo.

I searched the next aisle for the sales lady. I didn’t know why I was looking for her. I didn’t know what to ask. She wouldn’t have tips on replacing a decapitated moose with a soft nose and wobbly legs. But she said to ask if I needed help so I kept searching.

I heard voices a few aisles over. But it was other random people, people who didn’t know me and didn’t get paid to be there and wouldn’t want to help me.

Ended up in produce. A sales guy asked if I needed help. I said no. I kept searching. Found myself back in the same aisle as before. Stared at the same mooses. All of them missing the key features. I threw them aside. I started screaming for Mr. Skinny Legs. He was there. I knew it. Somewhere in that pile of corpses was a new Mr. Skinny Legs with felt antlers and a soft nose and the exact proportions of appendages.

I could feel people staring. But I kept screaming, my voice getting louder and louder. Part of me wanted to give up, my arms tired and my throat hurting. My face was wet. Couldn’t tell if sweating or crying.

Then I found him. Not a replica. It was him. His left eye was chipped and his neck stitched together. He asked why I came back. I could hear people running toward me, security ready to ban me.

I told him I didn’t want a different moose. I’m sorry. He said he forgave me. People make mistakes. I told him I didn’t deserve him. But he said mooses are more forgiving than people think.

Security was getting closer. They’d be here any minute. I told him to come with me. He said he couldn’t. Why not? He shook his head.

I reminded him covid was over and even mooses can get vaccinated. He said it was too late. Too late for what? He kept shaking his head. Too late for what?

I told him I was scared. Security was going to ban me and I’d never see him again. He shook his head. Yes they will, I said. He shook his head again. I asked how he knew. He said he just knew.

I said I need you to tell me they won’t ban me. If I can’t take you back home I need you to tell me you’ll be here and if not here then somewhere else where I won’t be banned. He told me to trust him. Why?

You just have to, he said. I just have to.