A Killer Headache

They came in with guns, shouting for us to get on the ground. No one would get hurt, they said, if we all just cooperated. Don't be a hero.

I didn't really want to get on the ground. My knee was acting up that morning and the floor looked fairly dirty. I told them as much. I don't remember what they said after that. I hope it was something cool, though. Something like, it'll be even dirtier with your brains on it. It wouldn't sound very nice, and everyone else would gasp, but it would sound cool. It would get the job done. I would get on the ground like they said. No one would get hurt.

I got on the ground like they said. As I laid down I felt one of my headaches coming on. One of those terrible headaches that shoots up the back of your neck and you can't think straight. This one wasn't coming up my neck. This one was in my temple. I rubbed it. It didn't help.

They took the money. They pointed at me and said if anyone tried anything smart they'd end up like me. That seemed silly. I was on the ground. We were all on the ground. I should have said something. Then they could say something like, keep doing that or you'll end up in the ground. Life's not a movie, though. If it were, I would grab a shotgun from under the teller counter and blast them away. But there is no shotgun. Just gum someone had stuck under there. That's rude, I thought. You're not supposed to chew gum on the job. That's probably why it's stuck on the underside of the counter. I should say something.

My mouth is stuck shut like I had a mouthful of peanut butter. Or used gum. It's a gross thought. I almost vomit but contain it. The hero of the story always keeps their composure. Or do they? I couldn't remember any specific heroes, especially not any that hadn't had a moment of weakness. I tried to decide if that justified throwing up, but then I figured you had to have a history of heroics before you were allowed to vomit on the job. Or if it was your first day on the job. Then you could just vomit out of fear. But I wasn't particularly afraid. I just had a gross thought. No hero vomits over a gross thought.

I wasn't really a hero. I was laying on the ground with everyone else. And I had a headache. Did Batman ever get headaches before a night out? Could he call in sick?
Sorry Joker, you'll have to wait until tomorrow to be stopped, I have a headache. I know, I'm sorry it's so last minute. I will, Alfred is bringing me some aspirin. I might still show up if I'm feeling better later but I wouldn't count on it. Thanks, you too. Send Harlequin my regards.

I think they left while I was trying to decide whether to vomit. I sat up. That didn't help my headache. There was a lot of crying. I felt a little better. I hadn't cried. I hadn't even vomited in the end, so I chalked that up to a win. I asked the lady who works next to me if she had any aspirin. She was crying too hard to hear me I guess. I wasn't good with crying so I walked away. I was almost knocked down by a paramedic on my way into the lobby. I thought about telling her to watch where she was going but that didn't seem like a nice thing to say to a paramedic. She was only trying to help. Her partner ran behind her wheeling one of those wheeled stretchers, gurneys I think they're called.

I wandered outside to get some fresh air to help my headache. There were police officers everywhere, questioning witnesses and trying to calm people down. One man just kept shouting something and pointing at the bank. I recognized him as my manager. He was pretty upset so I decided to avoid him. I would walk home and take a nap. I could call in sick later, tell them the shock was too much for me. I wasn't a hero. I was just a bank teller. I would make sure they knew I hadn't vomited though. Hero or not, I've got a reputation to maintain.

I got home with very little trouble. There was a big yellow school bus parked across from my house, which was strange. I hate when things are out of place like that. There wasn't anyone on it, including a driver. There was always a driver inside school buses, even when there weren't any children. I shrugged and went inside the house. I needed to take a nap, or at least take something for my headache.

The phone was ringing. It was supposed to go to voicemail after a few rings but didn't. Who was calling me this time of day anyhow?
Oh hello would you like to buy a subscription to our magazine? I assure you it's quite good. Yes I know print just isn't what it used to be.
And then the operator would start crying. He was definitely not a hero at his job. Maybe today is his first day. Then he can cry. Tomorrow he'll come in, resolved never to cry on the job again. He would sit at his desk and call a stranger's house and demand they buy a subscription to the best damned magazine in the world.
No, I wouldn't be picking up the phone today. I don't need anyone else crying at work. What if I got him fired?

The phone was still ringing. I walked over and picked up the receiver, then left it next to the phone on the small table.

"Hello, this is George with Infographics Incorporated would you like to buy a subscription?"
I don't know what an infographic is, George. I'm sorry.
I didn't pick the phone up, though, so he probably didn't hear me.
"Hello?"
Hello.
I stared at the phone for a moment before going upstairs. I could still hearing poor George greeting the empty room as I went. How awkward for him.

In the bathroom I looked for a bottle of aspirin. My headache was getting worse. Where was it? Why was my headache so bad? I tossed old bottles of antibiotic creams and boxes of cough drops behind me like they do in the cartoons. Some landed in the bathtub. I would find them later and laugh, I'm sure. Remember when my headache was so bad I was just throwing things behind me like they do in the cartoons? Hilarious. Witty. Charming, they would say. I don't know who they are, but whoever they were, they felt I was witty and charming. We don't always get to meet our critics, even those who love us.

Where was the aspirin? The medicine cabinet seemed bigger than it had ever been. Was it infinite? Would I be sucked in like Alice and her looking glass? Don't be silly, I thought, the mirror is on the outside of the cabinet. I should have read that book. I probably would have passed freshman year English the first time around if I had. The next year they weren't teaching it.

Where was the aspirin? Why was my headache so bad? If only I could find the aspirin.
If only I could find the aspirin.
George was still asking the living room if anyone was there. No one was there. They were up here.
If only I could find the aspirin.
The morning at the bank was fairly stressful.
If only I could find the aspirin.
I wonder why they kept pointing at me.
If only I could find the aspirin.I hope they don't think I was kidnapped. I just went home.
If only I could find the aspirin.
What if they were trying to call my house looking for me? George needs to hang up and give someone else a chance.
If only I could find the aspirin.

A Sunny Afternoon

  Eleanor ran down the steps as fast as she could, practically falling down them. Today was Friday! Fridays meant she got to see Edgar, and any day she got to see Edgar was a good day.

  The young girl skipped across the train platform to the other end where Edgar had promised to meet her. She glanced up at the display. It flashed five o'clock before flashing the next train's arrival. Three minutes until Edgar would be here! The display flashed again. Jan 1, 1939.

  Eleanor, like most people, loved the weekend. Unlike most people, she loved the weekend because it meant that the station's display would be malfunctioning. Sometimes it broke in the middle of the week, but they would get an electrician to come by that very day to fix it. When it broke on a Friday, no one would be in to fix it until Monday morning. That gave her three whole days to see Edgar.

  The strange old train came creaking along its tracks. Clack clack, clack clack, clack clack. It slowed to a halt and the engineer stuck his head out of the first car. The doors slid open and Eleanor could hear the driver announce the stop.

  Eleanor moved out of the way as a rush of people exited the train, returning home from a long day at work or enjoying the sights of the city. A few bumped into her, but they paid the child no mind. They had their own children to get home to. Eleanor stood up on her tip-toes, seeking her friend. From the end of the train she heard someone calling her name.

  "Eleanor! Oh Eleanor!" the voice said. Eleanor turned and saw Edgar dressed in his fine pinstripe suit and brown shoes. A gold pocket watch chain, the watch being a gift from his father he had told the girl, hung from his vest and sparkled in the late afternoon sun. The man waved to her, beaming. As he caught Eleanor's eye he held up a small bag, a box of chocolates sticking out.

  Eleanor beamed back and ran down the platform into Edgar's open arms. He was a tall man so he had to kneel, but he didn't mind. Eleanor said he gave the best hugs. "And how are you today my dear?" he asked, holding her at arm's length.

  Eleanor twirled around. "Mommy's bought me a new dress, isn't it beautiful?"

  Edgar stood up and offered her his white-gloved hand. "It's absolutely stunning, your mother has wonderful taste. And speaking of taste, I brought chocolates from the city!"

  Eleanor shouted a hurray and took Edgar's hand. They walked over to an empty bench and sat down. Edgar glanced up at the display. "Oh my, it seems we only have 8 minutes until the next train!" he said, popping open the box and offering it to the girl. "But don't worry, that is plenty time for friends!" he reassured her when she looked crestfallen.

  "Did you have any adventures today, Edgar?" Eleanor asked. She loved hearing about the city. Her parents said she was too young to go.

  "Well of course I did, every day's an adventure! Let's see, I took lunch down by the river, then the most dreadful woman came into the store but I sorted that out quite quickly." He bit into a chocolate pensively as he recalled his day. "And what about you little miss?"

  "I had school today. It was all right I guess. We had a math test and Ms. Brown yelled at these two boys in the back for talking. They weren't allowed to go outside for recess," Eleanor said. She rubbed her bare arms.

  "Oh, but you must be freezing in this weather! January is not the month to be outside without your coat! Here, take mine." Edgar slipped his coat off and put it over Eleanor's shoulders. She giggled as it enveloped her.

  "Well it quite a lovely day when I left the house," she replied crossly. She stuck her tongue out at Edgar before taking another chocolate. She swung her feet back and forth as she ate. She suddenly looked up at Edgar. "Where do you go?"

  "What do you mean?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. Eleanor thought he looked like a dog whenever he did that, but she was too polite to say so.

  "When I go up the stairs, I walk down the street and up the stairs and into my house. Where do you go when you go up the stairs?"

  "Well, I suppose I do the same, although I don't live around here. Well, not in the same era as you do," he explained.

  "What does 'ara' mean?" Eleanor pulled the coat close around her.

  "It's pronounced 'era', it means the time period."

  "Oh," she said, still swinging her feet. She frowned. "People should say what they mean."

  "I quite agree." He glanced up at the display again. "Oh gosh, the next train will be here any minute, I really must be going."

  "Jane will be awfully worried about you if you're not home on time!" she said. She hopped off the bench and smoothed her dress out.

  "I'm sure a half-eaten box of chocolates will make it up to her!" He and Eleanor shared a laugh. Edgar took the girl's hand and led her back up the stairs to the exit.

  "Well, this is goodbye, at least until tomorrow," he said, turning to Eleanor. He held out his right hand and Eleanor shook it firmly. She handed his coat back to him. He put it back on and tipped the edge of his cap. "Have a lovely evening. Say hello to your parents for me." He kissed Eleanor on the forehead and walked through the turnstile. A chilly gust of wind blew into Eleanor's face, forcing her to close her eyes. When she opened them, Edgar was gone. She wiped the chocolate from her mouth on the back of her hand and walked through the turnstile as well.

  Eleanor skipped along the sidewalk to her house, enjoying the sunny afternoon. An old man was coming her way, wearing an old suit and a yellow bow tie. A gold watch chain hung from his vest, sparkling in the sun.
  "Good afternoon young lady!" he said as he walked by.

  "Good afternoon to you, too!" she said, smiling. She skipped on, humming tunelessly.

  The man smiled and shook his head before walking slowly on down the block.

Doors Open On The Right

  Greg touched his fare card against the turnstile sensor. It took a moment to register, but eventually it dinged in acceptance and Greg walked through. He trudged down the ramp to the train platform in no particular hurry. He looked up at the display to check the time. The next train was due in two minutes. It flashed again, displaying the date. Jan 1, 2099. 

  Greg shrugged. The display was always malfunctioning. Last week it read Jan 1, 1899. A man in a full suit and top hat had asked him the time before tipping the hat and wandering on. It had been a strange day. 

  A few feet from where Greg stood, a woman sitting on the bench bent down to adjust a knob on her leg. She clicked it to the left three places and her whole leg began to vibrate.
  "Ooh, not again!" the woman cried, smacking her thigh. The leg stopped vibrating. She glanced at Greg and blushed. 

  Behind her, a small robot zipped around the train platform picking up trash muttering, "Careless, careless, careless, careless" before tossing the trash onto the tracks. It was also malfunctioning; it should not have been able to speak. 

  The display flashed once more, showing the train was due. As it came around the corner, the sitting woman stood up and grabbed her purse. She ruffle her hair and the color shifted from a dark brown to a brilliant green. She brushed a few strands out of her face and blue streaked through the green. 

  The train came speeding around the corner, a magnificent white machine, with "From Here To There!" painted in red along the side. It glided soundlessly on its single rail, a model of efficiency for the modern commuter. "This is Clark and Lake," a calm woman's voice announced.

  But Greg did not notice the details of this glorious new train. He did not notice the pretty girl's hair, or her bionic leg. He did not notice her shy smile when it had malfunctioned, nor did he pay any attention to the messy little robot spewing trash onto the rails. Greg stepped off the platform and fell onto the tracks. He landed just as the train was slowing to a halt, but it did not make a difference.

  "Doors open on the right at Clark and Lake," could still be heard above the screams.