This isn't really a lounge...

A very short story.


Bill Anderson

It’s more like a kindergarten play circle.

We are like children being watched over. Okay. I try to hold on to that part of myself. Children aren’t as good as dogs when it comes to spotting a bad one, however, and troublesome and bad are not one and the same. A dog is smart enough to know this. A child will follow the other children, led by the Alpha. So children are more easily led astray than the ineffable canine.

A better companion you deserve not to wish for. None of us, including myself. Especially myself.

Don’t step across that line, buddy, or you might find yourself at the principal’s office.

The bad people will be sent off into the cornfield, or will hide well enough to avoid expulsion.

The troublesome ones, however, will be sent before them. The troublesome are lower than the bad, or the wicked. They rock the boat for no apparent reason.

You can hear their cries, sometimes, when it is late and everyone else has gone to sleep.

I often wonder what the curious would be thinking of us. Not the judgmental or the confident, or arrogant, because we have long grown to know the way they feel, but the curious, without assignment or accusations of guilt or malice aforethought. Those who, like children, just seek to know, not to deify or look down upon. Just to know, to understand.

I have often thought that they must feel some kinship, perhaps, or pity. Pity would perhaps be more bearable than empathy. Empathy implies some sort of relationship, while pity simply expresses the unfettered hearts’ desire for equality, and remorse that it was not granted in every case.

Perhaps it is shame.

I do not know the answers to such questions.

Does one make it their goal in life to be contrary, or does life place those capable of such things in positions of vulnerability, simply by the grace of that by or of which they are capable?

I do not know the answers to questions such as these, either.

If it is the former, I am unaware, and if it is the latter, I question the wisdom of fate.

All that I do know, is that I love thee.

I also know that I am alone. We are all alone.

We shall always be alone.


Beware the beast, Man, for he is the Devil’s pawn. Alone among God’s primates, he kills for sport or lust or greed. Yea, he will murder his brother to possess his brother’s land. Let him not breed in great numbers, for he will make a desert of his home and yours. Shun him; drive him back into his jungle lair, for he is the harbinger of death.

Meanwhile, the serious children play off in the corner by themselves.

I see patterns in every thing. A woven complexity that only my brain has to work out. A description unable to be expressed to anyone beyond my own inner sanctum.

I like how you can extract yourself from the quagmire of non-critical thinking and become a witness to the activities of the beast in our little playground.
However, I’m not going to deify you.


I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship…

Your name wouldn’t happen to be Louis, would it?


I’m thinking so too. I’ve been playing around in the shallows for a while now, and I think it’s time for another dive. I have to take a break between dives, because I usually find something that takes me a while to adapt to.

…and no, I’m just John. Pretty straightforward, pretty anonymous. Then again, I might be from another planet. I haven’t figured that out yet. :neutral_face:

And it must be awful to be beast named Sid from Little Bongs. :laughing:

You left out one of the key verses:

I learned my lesson well


‘In here! And the bass keeps runnin, runnin, runnin and runnin’…

Hmm…not quite the kind of replies I expected, although I really didn’t expect any at all.

Conman…you give new meaning to the word, “obtuse”.