Mitt liv är
Egentligen
Ganska trist
Händelselöst
”Normalt”
(Knappt ens värt
En parentes).
Min poesi är
På det stora hela
Inget att tala om
Den heller
(Inte jämfört
Med idolernas).
Sammantaget är
Jag
Rent generellt
Bara en i mängden
Av drömmare
Som tar sikte mot stjärnorna
Och som ständigt glömmer
Att raketen är byggd
Av illusioner
(Men det sägs ju
Att tankar kan flyga).
In the middle of a city, that will be no more closely specified than that it was big, there was a small park. And, as usual in parks in cities (especially those in American movies) there were some trees and some tables where, usually old, people played chess. By one of these tables sat a smoking, 27-years old man named Johnny.
His opponent didn't know it yet, but Johnny had as good as already won the game, and in 5 or 6 draws the other one would stand check mate. For once, Johnny almost smiled, something that did not happen often and that few liked to see. Johnny had a very ugly smile.
Because of this, and a good many other reasons, Johnny was a very lonely person, liked by nearly no one but his mother. This was no big problem to him, though; he didn't like anyone else either, even though he wished he could find a girl. He had never had a girlfriend, except for a week during high school, and that was one of his big dreams; to fins someone that he could love and that loved him back. He strongly doubted that would happen.
Johnny slowly moved his queen to E3, taking out the opponents last tower. Oh, he loved this game, almost as much as he loved target practising at the shooting range. The tactics, the thrill, the desperation in the eyes of those silly old men he played against. Every part of it made him feel alive, and he cherished all of it.
Johnny would surely have won the game, no doubt of that, if it wasn't for the thing that happened next. From a tree behind him there came a small "chip chip"-sound, and as he looked back he almost screamed. At a branch just a few meters away sat a squirrel.
No person Johnny had ever known (not that he had known many people, but still) had been able to explain why, but Johnny was desperately afraid of small mammals. This had been a problem all since the time of his childhood, a problem that had proven quite challenging, for example when going on fieldtrips, not to mention the "bring your pet to school"-day. Johnny had once, incidentally of course, wringed the neck of one of his classmates three month old rabbit, an act that had not been much appreciated, even though Johnny could swear on that it had intended to secretly murder the whole class. No one had believed him.
Anyway, this fear was very much real, and very much problematic, also in the everyday life Johnny had as a grownup. Now, with a squirrel sitting just a few meters away, he froze stone cold. That way he sat for almost a full 60 seconds, staring into the deep, black eyes of one of his worst enemies, until he finally came to his senses, draw the gun he had hidden in one of his pockets, and sent the poor, innocent and furry little fellow to animal heaven, leaving a widow and five children husband- and fatherless. Maybe this was as well, as the squirrel had been starting to show signs schizophrenia and would in a couple of years have killed his whole family. This would have been very bad, as his only daughter would eventually give birth to another daughter, which would give birth to the messiah of small animals, starting a new era of peace among creatures of all kinds except ants, as they would all have killed each other in their sixth world war long before.
As the residue of the sound that had emitted from the handgun fainted away, Johnny finally started breathing again, just to notice that his chess opponent had run away in terror. Looking around, he also discovered that all the other people had done the same, except one or two who had died in heart attack as a result of the chock. Well, easy come easy go, that was as true for life as for anything else.
Not really knowing what to do next, Johnny leaned back in the chair. In the distance he could hear the sound of police cars coming closer, and he assumed that somebody had been scared enough to make a phonecall. Well, he hadn't done anything wrong; he had just killed an ugly-as-hell devil squirrel, that couldn't be bad. Of course he knew it could, he had been in this situation before, but he didn't think it was, so why should he follow their rules?
Five minutes later four cops arrived, weapons drawn. One even had a megaphone. This was the one who raised his voice.
"Drop your gun and put your hands on your head. I repeat, drop your gun and put your hands on your head. We don't want to harm you,"
it was plain in the voice that he very much did want to harm him
"but we won't hesitate to do what is necessary. Once again, drop your weapon,"
Johnny dropped his weapon.
"and put your hands on your head."
Johnny put his hands on his head, walking into an area where he could see the police officers plainly.
"Chess, anyone?" he asked, just before they grabbed him.
Seven hours later, Johnny sat in the kitchen at his mother's home, drinking tea. She had had to bail him out from prison, as usual, and she now glanced at him with a look of both anticipation and disapproval.
"Mother, I promise that I will pay you back this time, I really do."
"Oh, you have promised that every time before. I am not sure I believe you anymore."
"But I will. I almost surely will have a job at the end of the week, the employer as good as promised me that."
Actually, Johnny had been promised that he was to have a job. Unfortunately, that job had begun Monday the week before, but as he had been all too accustomed to being unemployed he had not remembered, and therefore had not showed up until Friday. Naturally, he got fired, but he chose not to tell his mother about that, as that might mean she would stop liking him. She was the only one that even remotely did, at least that he knew of.
"Okay, if you say so. I expect you to do well."
"Yes mom, I will. I promise."
"Good."
After this they both were quiet, not knowing what to speak of next in fear of touching a subject the other wanted to avoid. There were many such subjects between them.
Suddenly his mother spoke up again.
"And I suppose you haven't met a girlfriend yet? You know, when your dad was your age he had been married to me for eight years, and you haven't yet even had a partner. You disgrace your father's memory by not following in his tracks."
"Mom, the reason he married you was that nobody else wanted him, and you only married him because of your unanswered love to his sister. And if you want me to go down the same road as him, then I suppose you want me to have one of my twin sons becoming a gangster boss who kill me because he wants the legacy?"
Chock shone through the eyes of the mother, who had not expected this sudden turn in the discussion.
"How dare you imply that I fell in love with that really good-looking hag at first sight, that all I ever wanted was to hug her, touch her hair, kiss her, make out with her, have sex with h…" Here she trailed of realizing what she was saying. Trying to smooth things over she said:
"Ok, maybe you're right. But I just don't want to see one of my sons having to age all alone. Yes, I know your brother is an evil leader of the cities underworld, and that he is trying to kill you using those blackhearted henchmen, but at least he have a wife, and a carrier."
The "wife", as the mother called it, was actually a hooker, which Reagan (that was the name of Johnnys twin brother) gave a steady pay to be with. She had tried to murder him on several occasions.
"Mom, I am not going to be like my brother. Even though people might see me as a cynical, dark and pessimistic person, completely without sympathy or anything like it, I am not evil. And I am not going to build a criminal syndicate, however much you want me to."
The mother heaved a sigh, and then they both fell quiet.
An hour later, Johnny was walking down the darkening street on his way home. He thought it had been a rather eventful day, and he felt quite content with himself, although he thought he'd stay away from chess for a while.
"Tomorrow," he said to himself "I will visit the shooting range. Maybe I will even kill a cat."
