He was mad all the time it seemed. No matter what people did or said, or didn’t do or say. No matter what medications he took or didn’t take. He didn’t ‘know a hawk from a handsaw’, no matter which way the wind blew. He still knew his Shakespeare, though, even if the characters kept changing plays on him. He had invented a little pun of his own for when she came to visit. When she got out her guitar to play for him, he would tell her to neither a liar or a lyre trust. It was strained, but he liked the sentiment. After that, he was thinking of driving his butter knife from lunch into his throat. He had it hidden in his bathrobe at the moment, but he was certain he could pull it out quickly. It was no less than he deserved, really, and maybe more, but he had reached his boiling point. He was done here. Done being mad all the time, but really, he was done being conscious. If he could remember where he was, and why he was mad, than maybe he wouldn’t have had to steal the knife. But ‘if wishes were horses, then we would all be eating steak’. He had gone off-topic again. Was it time for the knife yet? He couldn’t remember, but it seemed close enough. He fished in his pocket, but all he found was a Popsicle stick. He loved Popsicles. They were called ice lollies in England, you know.
“Yes, Papa. I know. Would you like another Popsicle? Green this time, maybe?”
Green is an excellent color, the color of grass. People thought that green sweets were aphrodisiacs when I was a child, you know. I have a girl your age…only you cry a great deal more.
©2012 Erin Sharp
Quotes from Hamlet by William Shakespeare, and Firefly by Joss Whedon.