Dear Ruler
Dear Ruler,
I envy your confidence. You proceed to stand tall - with rigour. With pride.
What feels like so long ago now; that assurance, that bright glimmer of hope you had promised us - which we stepped into, so friendly - grew dim then dark, and we suddenly realized, we had always been sitting in shade.
I’ve done my part. I’ve surveyed the countless others under your reign - under your rigid rules - and it seems quite clear and unanimous: you are no longer the truth.
You are not truth! You are lies! You are deception! You are greed married to pride!
But we’ve learned to quickly look past that. And with a smile. We are just glad you are no longer powerful. Power in this kingdom lies in its numbers; you’ve lost that army.
How is it? How does it feel? You have divided yourself from your people, and before you give it a thought, what the people say is “it’s never felt so good to see freedom.”
It may not be freedom just yet, but it’s close. A stone’s throw? An evening’s promenade? I don’t know, I can only imagine some distance between here and there; but we are getting there.
We will begin our travel soon, by my measure. And no, there is no destination. We do not know where we’ll drift, or when we will find what we’re searching for. But I promise you, if ever we were to drift and in our journey, meet another kingdom, led by another ruler, be sure of it, we will stand tall with confidence and pride, long enough for them to take note but not long enough for us to take notice of an odour of deceit, like the one we had suffered with for years. Instead, we will keep moving. And on our own way.
Not yours truly, Not yours truly, Not yours truly,
The blind led astray The curve flown away The drifters
And I Love You, Too
“Hi, Mom. Michel and I are here today; we’re gonna keep you company. You like that?”
“...”
“She looks so... saggy -- her eyes look like hammocks.”
“Hey, don’t say that. She’ll hear you.”
“I’m just saying --”
“Well, how about you don’t... for once?”
“Okay... whatever.”
“Did you just really?”
“Did I just really, what?”
“I’m serious. Shut it!”
“Shut it!”
“Michel... please.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“Hi, Ma. What’s up?”
“Michel, she’s not gonna -”
“I know! Let me just try this just once; it’s still new to me.”
“...Fine. Go ahead, Sweetie.”
“Thank you... Hi, Ma, it’s me. So, hope you’re doing okay, haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“...”
“Well, uh, I made it to the City Finals the other day.”
“...”
“I wasn’t actually supposed to make it ’cause, like, I was fifth, and you only qualify if you’re fourth, but one of the kids false-started so they got disqualified.”
“...”
“Any who, yeah... I’m pretty excited for next week, I guess. Coach Bernier said that if we place, he’ll find a way to let us off the next day with a pizza party, and that’s pretty cool of him and all.”
“...”
“Tell her what you did last weekend.”
“What’d I do?”
“You know, with Troy?”
“Oh. Well, that was, like, nothing though.”
“Just tell her.”
“Okay. So, me and Troy went to the creek and found a few marbles --”
“And?”
“-- and we took them to the antique store and they said they’re worth, like, forty bucks.”
“Tell her about what you did with the bottles you found!”
“Mom. She doesn’t even know what steampunk is.”
“Well, then... describe it to her.”
“Uhh...”
“Please?”
“Okay, fine.”
“Thanks, Sweetie.”
“So, steampunk is, like, you make old things look kind of new.”
“...”
“Like, so I dug up these bottles from the creek, right? And they’re really old Coke bottles ’cause they don’t have the spirals on the top, it’s just flat and that means they used corks to seal the bottles, which, I’m guessing you would know about.”
“...”
“Not ’cause you’re ancient or anything, I just thought that you had these kind of bottles when you were younger.”
“...”
“Well, anyways, I took the bottles and spray painted them this kind of gold colour and glued on stuff that Dad had in his toolbox, like bolts and nuts and stuff. Anyway, the whole point of steampunk is just to make things look cooler ’cause they used to be old but now they look pretty futuristic.”
“...”
“I wish I could just show you, it’s easier than trying to explain it.”
“No, you did good, Sweetie.”
“I guess...”
“...”
“...”
“Tell her about the --”
“Ma.”
“...”
“...”
“Um. I know you can’t really say anything -- or hear anything -- so I’m just gonna say it: I don’t like your carrot cake.”
“Michel!”
“Yeah, it’s dry and, like, the taste is so bad and --”
“Okay, that’s enough!”
“-- it’s like I’m munching on poo and --”
“ENOUGH!!”
“What!? I’m just talking to her!”
“Yeah? Well, how about you say something fucking nice for once!? Huh!? How about that!? Can you just hold your tongue for this one, short visit and give her some respect? Just an ounce, just a shred, that’s all I’m asking! Something genuine.”
“...”
“...”
“Just one nice thing, please. And then we’ll head home, I promise.”
“...”
“Michel, I only ask --”
“Okay!! I’m thinking.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“Okay. I got something.”
“I swear it better be good.”
“Don’t worry.”
“You know that’s all I do.”
“Hi again, Ma.”
“...”
“I just want to say ‘sorry.’”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“Is that all?”
“Yeah.”
“Uhh, no, it’s not.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“No, no, no. You’re gonna tell her exactly what you’re sorry about. I ain’t playin’ anymore.”
“Okay...”
“...”
“Ma.”
“...”
“I’m sorry I’m me.”
“...”
“...”
“I’m sorry I always act this way, and, like, make fun of you and Mom --”
“...”
“...”
“-- and that you got sick ’cause I left the door open --”
“...”
“Sweetie --”
“-- and that Dad’s gone --”
“Sweetie, no, that’s not your fault.”
“But it is, isn’t it?”
“No! Oh God no, not at all. That is no one’s fault.”
“...”
“You know -- you know the world just works that way sometimes. It’s good -- real good -- and then, well, it’s not.”
“...”
“We all face these kind of challenges, these rough spots, and we’ve just got to power through them somehow.”
“...”
“And you mean so much to Dad and I, believe me. We wouldn’t want it any other way if it weren’t with you.”
“...”
“You were real good today. Honestly. I’m so proud of you. Thank you.”
“...”
“You know, I love you.”
“...”
“And I love you, too.”
“...”
“Ma?”