To Be or Not
The metamorphosis of Sheldon Bachmann A TWO-MINUTE Fiction
Sheldon looked into the mirror. He studied himself for a long while, turning this way and that. He didn’t like what he saw. so he combed his fingers through his hair to mess it up, he opened his top button, and lost the pocket pens.
All through a dreary winter, Sheldon worked from home at his computer, editing, writing ad copy and obituaries. He was lonely and monumentally bored. He needed a change. He let his hair grow, stopped shaving. He ordered some expensive sunglasses on line, a hip leather jacket, a black fedora. He gradually remade himself.
When spring came, Sheldon began to hang out at Ernie’s Double-0-6 Club every night, drinking a lot of hoppy micro-brew IPAs, playing snooker and doing other, shall we say, more questionable stuff. He quit his job and bought a ‘96 Harley Fat Boy, totally annihilating one of his credit cards. He threw his leg over that 1338cc V-Twin motor and just took off for anywhere the blue highways wanted to take him.
Today Sheldon woke up in a run-down motor court just east of Barstow. He looked into the cloudy bathroom mirror and didn’t recognize the man looking back. His eyes were bloodshot, he had a catastrophic hangover and he couldn’t remember how he scraped his knuckles and bruised his knees last night. He had a vague recollection of a woman named Velma who said she needed protection or something. Apparently, he gave it his best shot, because that sure looks like her sleeping under his blanket this morning.
Sheldon is thinking that this experiment has about run its course. He’s come to the conclusion now, that no matter how long and how far he rides, he is never going to outrun the fact that underneath the long hair and the leather, he is still Sheldon Bachmann from Indiana, and that maybe it’s time to head back home to Muncie and just deal with it.
Got any advice for Sheldon?
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