The DHI Autistic Book Club
Shadow Dream Girl
by Bennet “The Sage” White
Chapter 3: Is Ian Really Ian?
protected by Fair Use, bitch
Millie's had a bespoke atmosphere; dry and lifeless, the very air was acrid and it hurt to breathe. It smelled of rotting wood and old chemicals, which Ian had never gotten used to.
There's your health problems, bitch. Millie's got a mold problem, or radon.
Ian takes out the garbage.
Stan orders another pizza, this one is half pepperoni for Ian to eat.
At this point I had to check how many chapters were in this book. It's 19. We're on 3.
They eat said pizza.
“You're one to talk about terrible taste.” Ian swallowed, reminding himself to finish his thought before going for another bite, “To each their own and everything, but for the life of me, I can't figure out how you can pop a squat without sitting on your massive balls; accusing me of having terrible taste when you're the one insisting on eating your pizza with tropical fruit.”
Because this is how humans speak.
They continue to eat pizza, and discuss pizza.
“Pepperoni doesn't even have a flavor!” Stan couldn't wait to swallow his bite, barely able to keep the cheek full of food from flying out of his mouth, “All pepperoni tastes like salt, and it hurts to eat!”
No one in the history of humankind has said this.
Then Ian gets the sads. Stan asks him what's wrong.
Ian let out a puff of air through his nose, “I dunno. I think I just realized how pathetic it is that the best part of my day was getting my pizza right.” Ian took another bite, the smallest one he had taken so far.
Is... is this supposed to be Spoony?
[Stan Speaking] “If you want me to break it down, you mope around the store all day, you're a constant stick-in-the-mud, and if things don't go your way, which they never seem to, you wear disappointment like Superman's cape. Yeah, that sounds like 'sad-sack' to me.”
OK from here on out,
Ian is Spoony! And I guess that makes Stan, Bennet?
Spoony has a hissy fit.
Ian pushed himself off from the counter and stepped away from Stan, tossing his half-finished second slice into the box. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this tired of Stan and his incessant attitude.
“Yeah, Stan. You're right, I'm a sad-sack. Forget I said anything.” Ian's voice trailed off.
I think this really is supposed to be Spoony and Bennet, no joke.
“That's what a passive-aggressive dick would do.” Stan was not letting go, and seemed to know exactly what Ian was trying to do. He walked into the next aisle, attempting to talk to him face-to-face. “I don't pretend to know what the hell happened to you to make you like this, but I'll be damned if I'm going to work side-by-side with someone who makes me walk on egg shells. You're a grown-ass man, Ian.”
WELL, this just got a lot more interesting. I don't care if this is true, this story is A LOT more interesting if I believe this is Bennet just dumping on his old friend.
“I want you to hit back, I want you to get angry. Hell, I want you to do anything other than slink away. Defend yourself for Christ's sake, because you're the only one who can!”
No one particular day could possibly stand out, not among the seemingly incalculable eons spent stocking, alphabetizing, cataloging, and wasting away. That one of those days just so happened to be the day Ian was forced to participate in another one of Stan's go-nowhere, often masturbatory masturbatory conversations was no reminder at all. It was only by the polite obligation he placed himself under that Ian felt compelled to dignify Stan's insistence in the first place.
Sounds like Bennet.
So, they yak on about the movie Cast Away (Ian's favorite movie). Stan is trying to make a point here, and insists Ian ask why Cast Away is his favorite movie.
“There's something about a guy who's alone that speaks to me.” Ian's voice was a barely legible mutter, “Tom Hanks is just surviving all alone, and he goes through years and years of solitude just scraping by. Even when he's rescued, he still winds up alone after his family moved on from him, but he still doesn't despair. I guess I feel like whether or not you're on a deserted island, or you're living in a city full of thousands, loneliness and isolation can still haunt you, and I guess I like guess I like knowing that it's not something you have to succumb to.”
Do you think Bennet had a real life similar talk with Spoony?
“You like the movie because you're looking for some kind of salvation in your lonely life. You see? You know you're a sad-sack, so don't get pissy at me because I tell you something you already know.”
“You think anyone wants to hear what's wrong with them from somebody else?” Ian could barely groan, “What's the point of all this?”
“The point is that if you want to stop being a sad-sack, which I hope you want, you have to see that it's something you have to address and tackle. Stop resigning yourself to your life and be who you want to be. Otherwise, being a sad-sack will just be part of your nature, and there's no helping it once it gets there.”
Spoony/Ian just walks away. He contemplates how he feels like he's anesthetized. Then he imagines himself lying in a hospital bed with bandages and an IV.
Curiosity guided his eyes to his left hand, where he spied a needle and catheter jutting from his wrist. Wrapped around the needle were delicate fingers attentively adjusting it for comfort. Ian smiled as he realized that its manicured nails were painted a bright red, and as the hand was done adjusting the IV, they let themselves gently scrape against his arm. Warmth flowed into his gut at the sensation.
Unable to see the owner of the hand, Ian tried to follow it above the wrist, but the light had blurred his vision. He poked and craned his head as far as he could, only glimpsing long, red waves of hair. His eyes widened to their limits, straining themselves to try and see who he had felt, but a sudden, jostling sound of plastic clanging against itself distracted him. The sound was followed by a dull, aching pain that pulled his attention down toward his shins. Staring back at him, pressing itself tightly against his leg, was the lowest shelf on a chest-high rack of DVDs that Ian had just walked into.
A DVD copy of Dune is mentioned. Dune resides heavily in the Spoony lore if you remember.
Ian-Spoony gets angry about Millie's Rentals.
Or maybe its better if it finally did go under. It's been dying for years, so why not just put it out of its misery? Hell, burn it to the fucking ground so that life can finally go on! The ball had now filled Ian's stomach, and was quickly growing beyond the limits of its container. It poured from his gut, overflowing with fiery weight, pooling into whatever cavity and crevice it found itself in. With every inch it crept, the blood only became hotter, and heavier, eventually becoming molten lead. It seeped and crawled into every capillary, pulling Ian down with its terrible gravity. Just fucking burn it down, for fuck's sake!
Uh... he passes the fuck out.
As the dream fog dissipated, Ian compulsively squinted his eyes, bewildered by his sudden state. He placed his hands frantically all over his body, feeling every angle and dimple he could, pushing and prodding skin and bone as if to assure himself that he was still was human. Reaching below his seat, he felt the cold, familiar tiled ground of Millie's, and he smelled its musty air, and he had the sudden, terrible realization of knowing where he was, but not knowing how he got there; his mind muddled by disappearing memories of where he had thought he was. He chased the shadows wherever he could catch a glimpse of them, but they were always quicker than him. Ian could only feel that they were taunting him in a cruel game of tag.
I'm not skipping anything here. Dude passes out, then this. No dream, or description (which is a crime for this fucking book) of another world or some Twilight Zone shit.
“I-” Ian had to force the words through chattered teeth, “-haven't we done this before?”
“A fire, burning.” Ian grumbled, “All I can remember is a fire, and I can't remember anything after that.”
So, is he a burn victim that's in a coma, or some shit? Is that where we are going?
Stan tries to make him calm down, because he still has a few hours left on his shift. Stan doesn't want to handle the store alone, with it's two customers so far.
“Don't you remember?” Stan asked, fussing with his hair, “It's Tuesday.”
Is this a joke, because of the fit he had about not getting lunch because it was Tuesday and he had therapy?
Don't know.
End of Chapter
