The Mannequin

The mannequin doesn't nag but his wife was constantly nagging, adding fire to a hot domestic fight, or ice to a passionate night when he wanted to reach a divine climax.

After he walked a few yard away from the mannequin, he heard a gentle cry in his head. It seemed like the dark magnetism, the mannequin had sent to his head was now working elaborately in his brains. He turned around to look at her once more just to look, and saw that she was somewhat staring in his direction. He couldn't tell if she was staring at him, because she was at a considerable distance. A dark fear took grip of him as he walked down that aisle not knowing what to do next. He forgot what he was looking for. A total blackness engulfed his head. He felt like his mind was full of black smoke. He passed the sports section and now reached the video-and-CD section. He picked up a Fiona Apple CD, looked at her fat lips, and then slammed the CD back in its place. He finally discovered that his hands were wet on the palm and shaking. He felt the same way he had once felt when his plane was about to take off from the Twin Cities Airport. Anxiety and fear landed on him at once. He could now remember what he came to the store for, so he controlled himself a little and head on again for the sport section. He finally found the baseball glove he was looking for.

A cloud of dark fear was still hovering over his head when he walked back down the aisle he came from. He could have chosen another aisle to the cash register, but for some unknown reason he felt he had to go through that aisle instead. He passed by the mannequin-she wasn't looking at him-and he heard a voice in his head saying, "You are the one. You are the only one, baby." He didn't look at the mannequin; he just kept on walking straight toward the cash register. The woman at the cash register saw him and immediately knew something was wrong with him. "You are the one!" he heard again. But this time it was louder; it bellowed from the inside of his head with a horrific touch. He didn't look, though. He paid the cash register woman and left.

He didn't even know how he got home when he found himself knocking on the door of his house. He kissed his wife good afternoon, hugged his son and kissed him on the forehead-his daughter was at a friend's house. He went to the fridge, cracked himself another Budweiser and dropped onto his couch, drinking it and thinking about the mannequin.

"How was your day?" his wife said from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a kitchen rag.

"All right," he responded and took a sip of his beer.

"Any news?"

There was a long pause.

"Yes," he said. "There is some scary news, very scary."

His wife came out of the kitchen and looked at him to listen.

"What happened?" she asked and sat down in the couch next to him, still facing him concernedly, and the kitchen rag balled in her hand. She could tell from the look on his face that something bad had happened to him. They had been living together for many years and she knew every expression on his face like she knew the back of her hands.

"What is it?" she claimed again. She looked sexy with the teeth bracelet in her mouth.

"Where are the kids?" he said.

"Susie's at Julie's and Ben's probably watching a video. Did you get laid off again?"

Steve had gotten laid off many times. He had once gotten laid off a month after he had been hired.

"No.