Super Duper Short, Short Stories

Mime Squared

The first time I laid eyes on him, I knew he was the 'one'.

His movements and gestures were so graceful, his expressions were perfect. His makeup looked as if it were part of his face and not just a mask. I had to get close to him; my heart was yearning for his touch. We were walking up the hill, intending to fetch a pail of water, however random that seemed, we needed the water for our practice.

You see, he was a he-mime and I was a she-mime. He was a professional at his art while I was still an inexperienced amatuer. I was worried he might not receprocate the feelings I have for him. After all, I was only working with him to gain experience, and it was a through work relationship which we were brought together.

Lucky for me, I had talent and was quick to learn the ropes. It was that day in 1960, we were performing onstage one of our impromtu acts that he began to notice me. After the show, he extended a hand of friendship to me. My heart did it's little dance as I accepted his hand, the first time I touched any part of his bare skin.

As we began to hang out more, I realized that he took his work very, very seriously. It was revealed to me by our manager that he swore off talking and even had the mime makeup tatooed to his face! No wonder my first impression of his makeup was such. These facts gave me a shock but when I learnt that his only clothes were his mime clothes, I was left stunned. It was as if this man, so perfect as he was as a mime, had come from a totally different planet. If anyone around us were tell me he was an alien, I'd seriously believe them. He was a human alien mime, first of his kind (wow! That rhymed!). 

I worried thinking how I were to get him to ask me out and the things he could tell me about himself that he never will. That's the problem.. He doesn't ask, he doesn't even talk!

Surprisingly, he did ask me out by miming his words... Somehow he also figured out to tell me all the things he wanted to share with me. He was simply.. an expert at living the way he did.

There was also the time I fell down and he wanted to help me out. He pretended he hand a rope and threw it over to me to grab onto before pulling me up. I played along and realized that his way of living was a more enjoyable one. 

He tried his best not to touch material things, in fear of their germs and how it might affect his art if he didn't apply it in his daily life. So if he were to sit on a couch reading a newspaper, he'd just mime everything out. Even the newspaper.

We eventually married and had a child. I was very anxious to how our child would turn out, with his parents being mime squared. Luckily, he turned out alright, close enough to normal. Sure he'd do some weird stuff now and then but overall, he's managing pretty well. There was this time I heard him cry and I ran to him, he was on his bottom, and I asked him what happened. In between sobs he said, ' I fell off that swing' and pointed to a space of nothingness. I shook my head and chuckled at my imagining the whole scenario. That poor son of mine.

It was sad for us both when he died. We knew it was coming, but who could help it? He was stubborn and foolish those traits of his attributed  to his eventual death. It was a funny scene really, the battlefied.

He was forced by law to fight in the Second World War. It was mandatory for a man of every household to serve their country in the army. Seeing as to how our son was only 8, he reluctantly left us to protect the nation. They shouldn't have had that law, well, at least had an exception for my now deceased husband. A true hero he was, died for his art. But stupid fool too! He could've been alive to see his son have a normal wedding, unlike ours.

The messenger told me that he was killed at battle. I was devastated but had anticipated it. Knowing him, a man of such a profession and commitment to it did not work well with material things.

They go on and explain to me, though I already know. He was aiming his imaginary gun at an enemy, pretending to fire. His reality was clearly distorted and mental health checkup was overdue. That enemy saw him and smirked before shooting him straight at his heart. He faked his death prematurely to his real one.

I knew who he was, but I was blinded by love. He needed help and I was still blinded by love. I knew that my statement above was right; I had married a mental man and my ignorance was the cause of his final downfall.

As I write these last few words, addressing whoever reading this, please know that these words will be my very final ones, I pray for you to remember of our story, Jack and Jill's story. We altered our original story to our own liking and this is how it went. Our last performance together was quite the irony. We were performing along the lines of 'Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water, Jack fell down and Jill came tumbling aft.......

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Hello! :D

Thanks for reading! I hope you do comment and vote because Jack and Jill rock socks!

Hmm... I'm finding that this story isn't so nice but ah well! I had to post something up! :D

I have a temporary cure for boredom:-

Run (yes, run!) to the nearest beach where you are and plop down on the sand and act like Patrick. Remember to put a rock on you too!

Role playing is fun, tomorrow we're doing Spongebob! :D :D

And for those of you who are having summer holidays, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! :D :D Enjoy the Sun while you can! :P

<3E