Prufrock

“In you get,” Officer Becker muttered.

She was holding open the door of an interrogation room for a man with dark hair and blue eyes obscured by glasses.

With a smile, Michael walked into the stark room and sat down on an uncomfortable metal chair. Officer Becker sat down across from him, throwing a file onto the cool metal table. She took a moment to skim through the file before turning to her attention to Michael.

“Would you care to explain why you tried to kill a man who swears he’s never even seen you before?” Officer Becker demanded.

Michael gave the officer a once-over, taking in the permanent frown and neat brown bun. “You’re going to think it’s insane.”

Chuckling, Officer Becker leaned back in the metal chair. “Try me.”

“It was the name.”

“The name? You got a problem with the name Alfred?”

“Not the first name,” Michael scoffed. “Alfred is a perfectly fine name. I have a character named Alfred. He’s a wonderful character. No, it was his last name I had a problem with.”

“Prufrock.”

“Yes,” Michael snarled, slamming his hands on the metal table in front of him for emphasis. “Prufrock! How could a man live with a name like that?! And to get married! He passed that hideous name onto some poor woman. But that’s not the worst of it! He has children!” Michael banged on the table again and growled. “How dare he pass on a name like Prufrock to unsuspecting children?! That should be a crime! He should be the one being interrogated by the police! I mean, yes, I tried to kill him but forcing a name like Prufrock on innocent people is just plain wrong!”

“Mr. Swansen, calm down,” Officer Becker said, her eyes wide with surprise. “How did you even know Mr. Prufrock?” At Michael's menacing growl, Officer Becker quickly reworded the question. “How do you know Alfred?”

Michael sniffed. “I don’t. I wouldn’t ever associate with a man who had a name like Prufrock.”

“If you didn’t know him, how did you find out about him?”

“The phone book.”

Officer Becker opened her mouth to fire off another question. She stopped suddenly as she realized what Michael had said.

“Wait. Why were you looking in the phone book?”

Michael sat up a little straighter in his chair and puffed up his chest with pride. “As you probably know, I’m an author. I was looking for the last name of my next main character. I was flipping through the ‘p’ section when I saw it.”

“By ‘it’, do you mean the name ‘Alfred Prufrock’?”

Michael nodded primly and pushed his glasses farther up on his nose.

“Can you explain to me why you felt the need to react to that name with violence?” Officer Becker asked, mystified.

“I needed to put the poor man out of his misery. After all, a man named Prufrock could not have had led happy life.”

“How could you possibly know that? You didn’t even know him.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “As an author, I’m constantly analyzing the human condition. Trust me, Officer, the man has known misery.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to kill him.”

Crossing his arms like a petulant child, Michael glared at her. “I was really only doing the man a favour. He should have held still and thanked me.”

Shaking her head in defeat, Officer Becker quickly changed the subject. “Where did you get the gun?”

“I’ve had it in my upstairs closet for years,” Michael replied huffily. “I have a permit for it and everything. I haven’t committed a crime.”

Seeing Officer Becker open her mouth to argue, Michael held up a hand to silence her and sighed.

“Okay, outside of trying to kill that man with the terrible name, I haven’t committed a crime.”

“You are going to be charged with attempted murder, you know that, right?”

“Of course. And I’ll admit that I tried to kill him if anybody asks,” Michael replied with an airy wave of his hand.

“You’re going to go to jail.”

Michael’s eyes glittered with excitement. “I know. It will be a real learning experience. Can you imagine the kinds of characters I might meet in jail?”

“Are you planning on trying to kill Alfred when you get out of jail?”

Snorting, Michael crossed his arms and leaned back in hard metal chair. “No! I’ll let him live out his miserable life, the ungrateful jerk.”

Officer Becker allowed herself a moment to be surprised before she nodded.

“All right. That’s all for now. Someone will be by in a few minutes to take you to your holding cell.”

Officer Becker gathered up her file and stood. Watching her leave, Michael smiled serenly.

“Have a wonderful day, Officer,” he called as she was closing the door.