I couldn't kill a fly.

Beautiful just beautiful, What’s next? I swear each day my junk drawer of bad news gets tremendously more full. Your dog died, your grandma is in a coma, your coworker is throwing a cat party and you have to go. Give me a break, I’m a good samaritan, I occasionally litter but only gum wrappers nothing serious. Why do I have such a disastrous life, no amount of double-sided tape can fix this. Just last week my friend told me he was moving and he asked for my help, which is fine. I didn’t know my help meant I gotta do it all by myself. Long story short he’s not my friend anymore and his piano is missing a few keys.

As I put my coat on I remember my car’s in the shop and I forgot to pick it up, again. You would think since it’s been pouring rain for the last three days I would remember. While realizing my idiotic mistake I jam my coat zipper. 

You know when you're building a house of cards and you’re almost done and it falls over for the 237th time and you rage around your house for an hour? Well, my card house just fell down. I rip my coat off and fling it across the kitchen; it hits a glass vase I got because of my dog dying, the vase falls over shattering, and spills ashes onto my brand new rug. The rug that is so priceless you’re not even supposed to walk on it. It just so happens, a bunch of ashes just walked on my rug. I got the rug from my grandma. She put it in her will, sad I know but I have bigger problems. I don’t even try to clean up my tornado of an apartment because I’m already 15 minutes late for work. I am gonna have to quickly turn into Flash or I won’t have a job. 

“Yeah, he killed his dog and his pet iguana, no joke. Robbie’s spooky might be emo or something. I wouldn’t invite him to the vacation if you paid me a million dollars. Okay, maybe I would for a million, but I would make him fly on a different plane and stay at a different hotel,” my blonde-haired coworker obnoxiously whispers.

At least she makes it subtle, I really appreciate that. Also, I don’t have a pet iguana, and not because I killed it. I just don’t have one and never have. Also, after that comment, I don’t think I ever will. The vacation thing was nonetheless harsh. I wonder if we are taking a work vacation or that was just an example? Gosh, I hope we are. Not to be dramatic but I need a vacation. 

I am so curious and longing for a vacation so I go ask My boss. 

“So is everyone in the office taking a vacation or is that lady with blonde hair over there making it up? I think she is. You should fire her actually.” The words shot out my mouth a little too abruptly.    

If we were going on vacation that probably just got me kicked off the list. Unless I wasn’t even on the list due to blondie’s smart mouth. My boss’s eyebrows raced to the top of his forehead as if his hairline was the finish line. Neither eyebrow finished the race. I could tell he had gotten a little flustered from my instantaneous statement. 

“Uh, Robbie... yes we are taking a work vacation. Only people who prove to me they deserve to go get to go. It’s going to be a short list, very exclusive.” His words fade till he’s at the door and disappears. 

The gears in my brain start rotating, they’re a bit slow at first; too much rust build-up. Prove I deserve to? How, is there a code I need to crack? He really left me on a cliffhanger. Does he have pets? I could take care of them. Maybe I shouldn’t offer. He might have heard the iguana rumor. I need to do something big to really show my appreciation. Risking my life is pretty big, but how could I risk my life without actually risking my life? I could put him in an extremely dangerous situation and then save him. Bold? Yes. Genius? Very much yes. I feel like I’m in a cliche Disney movie.

Can birds kill people? I could make one mighty fine bird. I could come zooming in and try to abduct him. Then I would do a magic trick, reveal the bird is gone and I saved the day by making him vanish. I just have to get him alone outside where birds would be. Which is pretty much everywhere outside, but that’s beside the point. After work on Monday, I can ask him if he wants to go get a smoothie. This new smoothie shop just opened up right outside a park, and parks always have birds. Should I email him in advance or spring it on him so he has to say yes? Emailing him takes energy and I’m just about to hit the hay, so I rest my case. 

“Smoothies, now? Robbie... can I call you Rob?”

“I’d rather you di..”

“Rob, I have lots of stuff I have to get done, so I don’t think I can today.” 

“What if I paid?”

“Meet me in the break room in five.”

Finished step one, got him to agree to come. It took some bargaining, but I’m tough. I keep my eyes on the prize. Step two, get there and transform into a gigantic deadly bird. On my way to the break room, I swiftly knock papers off of blondie’s desk and kick her chair. Simple, but effective. How do I know? I hear a shriek when I arrive at the break room. 

My boss twiddling his thumbs is patiently waiting next to the vending machine. I pull out my sunglasses signaling it’s time to go. My boss doesn’t pick up the hint and starts small talk with a nearby repairman. I remember what I did to blondie, she’ll be on my tail any moment. I walk to the door, announce smoothies, and strut out the entrance doors. My boss follows behind. The warm fresh air invites us to the park. 

“Wow, it's so hot out,” 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of birds!”

“Sure.” 

Step three, transform into a magnificent eagle suit. I had it laying around the house, it’s a beauty for sure. My grandma really left some weird stuff in her will. 

We get our smoothies and I rush to the bathroom to change. The bathroom is about 2 blocks away, but I told him I really had to go. It’s a porta-potty and I could smell it from the smoothie shack. I arrive and slip the suit over my clothes. Once I’m ready to attack I “fly” out. I start my walk back to our bench. I feel a little woozy. Probably just need a sip of smoothie, luckily I have one. I still have a block left and I’m drenched in sweat. This eagle suit is starting to turn into a smelly swimming pool. He’s only about 10 feet away now.

Step four, attack. I carefully walk up to him about to pounce, wings ready to beat, beak ready to jab. I probably should have trained before this. Did a couple of push-ups, maybe a jumping jack or two. I’m a foot away now, ready to spring into action. Then I trip and fall onto him. A rush of water comes pouring out of the breathing holes. He screams his lungs out. The drip of sweat rolling down his leg notifies me he is drenched. I’m toppled over onto the bench where he was, realizing I didn’t get to step five, magic trick. 

I sit up and my mask slumps off my head. Without thinking I grab a stick and knock him out. He can’t know it was me. This Disney movie is turning violent. I start to flee, but then I remember I forgot my smoothie. Simple mistake. I go grab it and continue down the sidewalk. 

It’s chilly out now, the wind blows back my coat. I stride back to the park, assuming my boss is up and better than ever, but I didn’t get a call from him. I assumed he would call asking what had happened. If I became unconscious after a wet bird attacked me, I would be asking questions. A sadness comes over me. My gears are spinning out of control. With no hesitation I speed up, my pace gradually getting quicker. The soles of my shoes burn off, my legs start to melt. I feel a lightning bolt span across my chest while a red mask grows over my face. Flashes of a funeral and my boss lying in a coffin invade my mind. 

I see a big man proclaiming “Here lies a wonderful man affected by a freak accident. He was struck down by a birdman...,” I span over to his body gently placed on ivory satin. All of this because I wanted to go on vacation? This cannot be happening. 

“Why... why me, what is wrong with me? What do you want from me? Why, am I dreaming? I didn’t do this, it wasn’t my fault, it can't be!” I plead to the sky while drops of denial roll down my cheeks. 

Clutching the yellow tape I stare at the stars, rip it, kick an orange vibrant reminder that I’m a criminal, then flee again. I fly back to freedom at my apartment.  

I treat my night as I normally would. Brush my teeth, comb my hair, wash my face, watch a show. Tonight I can’t fall asleep, gripping onto the idea that he was still alive. I can’t possibly be strong enough to kill a man. I couldn’t kill a fly. Laying in deep thought I am frightened by my alarm. The sun peeks through my window and I act as if It’s the weekend. Get up, make coffee, eat a muffin. 

The days start to feel neverending. I get tired of always walking through quicksand, getting nowhere. I haven’t answered a call in two weeks. Let me clarify; I haven’t left my house in two weeks. I locked my door. I hear knocks occasionally but they normally leave after they see my lights are off. The blinds are closed and I haven’t moved out of bed for the whole day. I just pretend I’m on vacation. Sand in my toes and a margarita in hand. Beautiful just beautiful, what’s next?