Sunday, November 4, 2012

The Tragic End of Trafore

 To the prompt: Book people

Trafore was my friend, and now he’s dead. Killed himself they say; leaped four stories to his death they tell me.

Sure, he was a serious guy, but not without some humor, if you knew where to look. And full of facts? MAN! You couldn’t find another of us with so much information stored inside, there for anyone who simply picked him up and gave him a chance. But, he was prone to depression.

See he never was the popular one. He was respected certainly, but no one really “lusted after him” if you know what I mean. He said it was because he was just too fat. I told him that was nonsense, that a lot of us were fat; that some much more fat than he were some of the most popular of us on the planet! In fact I said that some of us were so damned fat they had to split us up into bite sized pieces because no one could handle our fatness all at one time. He laughed at that, but then he became even more sad.

I introduced him to some of my friends, hoping that would change things. They were the “self-help” crowd, you know, the al-anon of our world. But alas, even they couldn’t convince him that happiness was a decision not a set of circumstances.

The last thing he said to me was “Spidey?” (My full name is Spiderman Comic, but he always called me Spidey) “Spidey? Why did my parents have to name me what they did. Were they trying to put everyone else to sleep? Did they understand that only the stuffy and academically obsessed would find me worthy of their love?”

I couldn’t answer him. I mean, why would a parent name his child “The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire” anyway. I tried in vain to make people call him by the nickname I made up, Trafore; but it never caught on.

He pushed himself right off the top shelf of the “History L-V” section of the United States Library of Congress, and broke his spine on the cold marble floor below. What a waste.

I don’t think I’ll be getting into any more relationships with book-people from now on. They’re just too damned complex. It’s comic-people for me until the day I hit the landfill.

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