Crimes of Another

“Daddy, I can’t find Hammie...”

The sullen voice pulled Robert from the fog of sleep. Running a lazy hand over his face, he rolled out of bed and scooped up his 5-year old daughter.

“Ok sweety, have you checked everywhere in your room?”

She responded with a defiant stance of hands on hips. An annoying mimicry of her mother.

“Well how about you double check everywhere while Daddy gets breakfast ready, ok?”

“Mommie said you would find Hammie for me because you have nothing else to do today!”

“Yaaa, well daddy’s eye’s don’t work without coffee.”

The pair made their way to the kitchen, Maggie leading the charge with squeals of her hamster’s name. Robert lagged behind, yawing leisurely and finding random bits of black rock in his robe pockets. Too tired to think, be ambled through the kitchen.

Rummaging through the breakfast cabinet, Roberts mood was further dampened by the lack of selection. “I thought we just went shopping...” With a shrug, Robert poured himself a bowl of bland oats and mixed in milk with ritual movement. 

“Daddyyy! He’s not in the bathroom!”

“Did you check the toilet? Maybe he wanted to take a bath?”

“Daddy! Don’t be silly!”

Chuckling, Robert slushed a big spoonful of bran into his mouth - which he immediately ejected into the sink with sputtering protests.

“Blech! How did this milk spoil so fast!?”

Finding no fault in the expiration date, he noticed the refrigerator unit was angled suspiciously. Noting the interior to be a disastrous room temperature, he found the unit had been unplugged overnight.

“Dammit. I hope the eggs are still good.”

“Daddy said a bad word!”

“Yes I did, but don’t tell Mommie ok?”

“Don’t tell me what?” Sasha, the missus of the house, blazed through the room with a stern aire. Already in her sleek office attire, she put Robert’s bedraggled bathrobe style to shame. As per usual.

“Daddy said Bam-bit!” Maggie announced triumphantly.

Sasha clomped through the kitchen in heels, shooting him a wry smile. “Oh? Well Daddy knows to put a quarter in the swear jar doesn’t he?”

“Put it on my tab.” Robert grumbled.

“I will, with interest. Keep it up and I’ll throw you in debtor's prison.”

“Mommie, what’s dead-er prison?”

“It’s a cage where we put bad people who swear too much.”

“Does that mean Hammie swore too much?”

“I don’t speak hamster, but if I did, I’m sure Hammie would make me sailor blush...” Sasha busily rummaged through her purse preparing for her morning commute.

Robert leapt at the chance for distraction. “Apparently Hammie made a jailbreak again last night. Maybe he’s the same convict that unplugged the refrigerator?” Robert shrugged, tossing a granola bar in Sasha’s general direction.

“Hmm... could the same furry convict be able to make off with my wallet?” She shot Robert a critical glance.

His wife’s accusative nature was her best trait in the prosecutor’s office, and her worst trait at home. Being an out of work writer already cast a big shadow for Robert to live under. The tension between them was long brewing under the surface, and not wanting to put in the effort this morning, Robert diffused with a forced smile. 

“If I happen to catch him, I’ll bring him in for questioning.”

“Mommie? The pillows are all dusty...”

Sasha crouched to pat her daughter and whisper with a sickly cute voice. “Really sweety? well maybe you can show your father what effort looks like and you can help clean up? Ok?”

“Hey now! That’s not-”

A phone rang with a noisesome chatter. Sahsa whipped the device out of her purse like a knife and yammered away as she continued the hunt for her wallet. Likewise, Maggie stormed away into the next room, grunting frustration. Robert was left to himself, feeling defeated yet again.

Robert unwrapped another breakfast bar for himself, lodging the bar in his mouth and grinding away at it like an ass wearing a feed bag. The morning hours were too often filled with similar bouts, though the mounting inconveniences of today's match was needlessly irksome. 

Robert was practically limping from the wounds as he stepped out to fetch the mail. Anticipating what new tragedies the papers might report, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of an unfamiliar car in the driveway.

Instead of the dopey family van he was accustomed to see parked in their driveway, there was now a jet black racing machine. Complete with neon stripes and overstyled spoilers, the interior just as visibly stylish through the smashed driver side window.

A scorched trail of rubber marks led down the driveway. Robert followed the tire tracks  as they trailed through the neighbors lawns, all of the neighbors lawns, on both sides of the street. The neighbors likewise found the destruction astonishing, mouths agape as they followed the trails  end to a dumbstruck Robert.

Shouts arose from every direction, and were fast approaching. Granola tumbling from his mouth, Robert stumbled back inside, to an equally furious wife waiting within.

“Robert! What the Hell!? You booked yourself a trip to Bermuda? With my card?!”

“Bu- whu-”

“You selfish sunovobitch! You call the airlines and get my refund right now! ” 

“It wasn’t me! This must be some prank or something!”

“Oh so this is a prank to you!? My cards are completely maxed out! ” 

“Mommie?” 

“Not now sweety! Mommie's gotta tear Daddy a new asshole!”

A resounding bang at the door announced the arrival of the neighborhood. Robert shrank back against the wall as Sasha stomped to answer the mounting madness outside. He didn’t want to be there when the two met. 

Robert dashed down the hall, his mind reeling in confusion.  He yelped and in surprise as he nearly knocked over his daughter, standing in the middle of the hall, cradling a dripping bundle.

“Daddy... I found Hammie. Right where you said he would be...”

There was no denying the mangled sponge in her hand was the beloved family hamster. Equally impossible to deny was the teary-eyed accusation of his daughter's stare. 

“Sweety I... I don’t know what to say...”

“I hate you.”

She ran to her room wailing, leaving him numb to the bone.

From around the corner, a sea of faces came rushing at him. Fury, anguish, and loathing, all focused on him. It was as if he had broken the Guinness World Record of Horribly Monstrous Crimes Committed Before Noon. None of which he could claim to have knowledge of. 

In likewise record speed, Robert dove into the bathroom and locked himself inside. The shouts and pounding that came right behind him. Sasha's shrill voice carrying over the crowd.

“Robert! These What the hell is going oooon?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” he shouted back. Rocking on top the toilet seat, Praying for some sense.

“Enjoying the party, Robbie ma boy?”

Robert’s head craning around the room to find the speaker.

“Wha- who said that?” 

“Over here, chucklehead.”

He waved at himself in the mirror. Only, he wasn’t the one waving. Terrifyingly, his reflection seemed to move on its own. 

“What in the- am I going crazy?”

“Hate to break it to ya pal, but your sanity has been long gone for a while now...” 

Robert’s mirrored image cracked a spiteful smile, the facial muscles stretching far too wide to be his own. 

“This isn’t real. This can’t be real! This is obviously just a nightmare!”

“ The real nightmare is this suburban hell you’ve sunk us into! With your damn hamsters and happy camper vans! Get real pal!”

Robert’s reflection pounded on the mirror angrily, the wall shaking with startling force.

“We got tired of watching you waste away our best years. So while you’ve been asleep at the wheel, we decided it’s time to shake things up!”

Sasha’s shrill voice leaked through the door. 

“Robert! The police are on their way! They say they’ve been looking for you!? You better get out here and explain yourself!”

“Speaking of shaking, how about we start with throttling that snub nosed trollop you married!”

The reflection let out a howling cackle. Robert wasn’t sure what to think, or do, or believe. He inched close to the mirror, terrified but unable to do much else.

“Just... who the hell are you?”

“Not obvious enough for ya? Take a gander and see.”

The Mirror Robbie rolled up his sleeves. Flexing a muscular bicep, Robert recognized the tribal tattoo design that he had planned on getting back in college, but never put the money down for. 

Around Mirror Robbie’s neck hung the gold chain that Robert had once owned, but threw away when Sasha said it looked ‘too effeminate’. 

The mirror flashed a toothy grin, and Robert’s eyes noticed the cauliflower ears of a boxing pro. The boyhood dream he had given up on when his father laughed at him for using a pink mouth guard, even though it was the only one in his size.

“You...you’re-”

“You’re me pal. All those years of living like a chicken-shit. Doing what you was told.”

Mirror Robbie guffawed as he lunged at the image of the bathroom door. 

“But, why are you doing this to me?”

The mirror man made a face of mocking thoughtfulness.

“Because it's what we both want.”

The door lock to Robert’s bathroom clicked, simultaneous with the mirror door unlatching.

“And because we can get away with it.”