- It’s late at night and I’m at my laptop playing WordCrack on Facebook.
I’m killing it. Words are just coming to me as if by magic. I’m easily the best WordCrack player who has ever existed. I am happy and at peace, surging through my life with the confidence and brilliance of an elite athlete. And then, amidst all the letters in the scramble, I see the name Jones popping up. I know it means something important and that it’s my duty to highlight and score the letters in order to keep my son safe, but when I try to do this, his name vanishes and appears somewhere else. I’m desperate, frantic in my attempts, but his name keeps eluding me, and then suddenly my time is up and I’ve failed. My score is zero. With a sense of dread I walk toward the nursery to check on Jones, but I know he won’t be there, that he’s gone, and that it’s my fault because I wasn’t a good enough WordCrack player.
2. Laetitia Casta and I are on a beach.
“Do you want me to climb up that tree and get you a coconut, mon cherie?” I ask her.
She says that she does and I shimmy up the tree with the greatest of ease. As I start to shake the tree, Laetitia does a cute, little dance for me down on the beach, “You are such a nimble, little monkey!” she says.
I can feel the sun on my face and the salt water breeze wafting through my hair. I am young and invincible. I shake the tree trunk a little bit harder, hollering like Tarzan, and this makes Laetitia laugh, and a coconut breaks free and begins to fall toward the beach, but instantly, it turns into Jones. I scream and throw myself after him, and I am falling for an eternity through a kind of darkness, never catching up to him, and then I wake up in a cold, poisonous sweat.
3. Rachelle, Jones and I are playing Risk.
I have amassed all my troops in Quebec and have assured myself victory, but Rachelle and Jones make a pact and gang-up on me. I try to be good natured about this, but inside I am burning with anger and jealousy. In short order they eliminate all my troops and knock me out of the game, laughing together as they do so. I start to scream at Jones, “You’ve always loved your mother more than me, always!!” And then I wake up feeling like an asshole, trailing this weight of shame behind me all day long.
]]>Me: Kind of scared.
Me: Kind of very scared.
Me: What if there’s a rope?
Me: I can just imagine it hanging from the ceiling.
Me: Swaying ominously.
Me: They’ll force me to climb up it.
Me: There might be a rope!!
Me: I’m not overreacting.
Me: Look, I know it’s not grade 4 gym class.
Me: No, I’m not expecting dodge ball.
Me: It would be nice if you were supportive rather than sarcastic.
Me: I don’t have dodge ball nightmares.
Me: Not anymore.
Me: Fartmares.
Me: Very funny.
Me: No, I’m not going to ask them if they can do anything about my “gas problem.”
Me: Because there is no gas problem.
Me: My trainer?
Me: Her name is Laetitia.
Me: She’s French, France French.
Me: She thinks I’m really funny.
Me: No, funny ha-ha.
Me: Cute accent.
Me: She really loves the anchor tattoo on my hand. It reminds her of Marseille.
Me: I know it was a commitment tattoo I got with you, but I can’t help it if other women find it attractive.
Me: My hands don’t look old.
Me: I’d say they look like they belong on a 25 year-old man.
Me: She’s going to test my grip.
Me: No, not my grip on reality.
Me: Man alive!
Me: My right hand has like a GI Joe Super Kung Fu grip!!
Me: Laetitia is really impressed! Gave me a hug!!
Me: Oh, you know the French.
Me: They’re like that.
Me: Yes, whorish.
Me: Such beguiling giggles, too.
Me: Are you going to your girl’s night out Salsa Dance Slut thing again tonight?
Me: Your sisters are a very bad influence on you.
Me: Alejandro.
Me: No, I don’t want him coming to my birthday party.
Me: I just don’t.
Me: I don’t want to talk about it.
Me: I don’t care if the therapist said I have to communicate more.
Me: All right.
Me: I communicate that I hate Alejandro.
Me: Well, didn’t he poke somebody in the back with his boner while dancing????
Me: I can’t do this now, I have to prepare for my next test.
Me: Mentally. I have to get in the zone.
Me: I want Alejandro out of the zone!!
Me: The next test?
Me: I have to walk briskly for the next six minutes.
Me: Yes.
Me: Well, why wouldn’t I take off my shirt?
Me: The French are used to that sort of thing.
Me: And I’m going to get a good sweat on.
Me: Oh.
Me: Apparently the equipment works better if I keep my shirt on.
Me: No.
Me: I don’t see any equipment.
Me: I think Laetitia might be a drunk.
Me: She’s all worried about me texting when I do the brisk walk test thing.
Me: Thinks I might walk into a wall or something.
Me: As if.
Me: Hate Laetitia and her bad skin.
Me: Glad I’ve never been to France.
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