Something's Missing

(Teaser) Something's Missing

This is a story that has no particular setting. No particular grammatical order in which to divulge some overly complex plot that may or may not end on a cliffhanger. Well, it might. To be honest, I don't know what this story may tell, although I am in fact the hand who writes it from beyond the fourth wall. I guess you can say this is a confusing notion of sorts. It's better represented as a confession instead.

Do I have a name, yes. Do you need to know it, no. So, instead, you can call me Black. What a contradicting statement.

Now to start things off. I will say, I once had a family. One that was beautiful in every way. It wasn't perfect, but it was beautiful. My wife Ms. Black and my two kid's Black Jr. and Baby Girl. I loved them with all my heart. Tears had fallen, whenever I came home from my long trips around the world, and I would see them for the first time in months.

We would have family night. Playing boring board games like Monopoly. I would be the Battleship. Ms. Black would be the Wheelbarrow. Black Jr. picked the Scottie Dog. And my daughter, Baby Girl would pick the Boot. Old pieces now but back then were new to us. We had pizza, and ate hot wings while playing an exhausting, almost endless night of Monopoly. Teaching my youngins how to rob, steal, and pretty much kill for a living, all in one game. Who said the Devil's work was never done.

Black Jr. loved dog's, but every time we got him one, he wouldn't take care of it, so the Scottie Dog was his permanent replacement. My Baby Girl always had a thing for metaphors, although she was the youngest. She always used to tell me to buy nicer shoes. The ones I wore reminded her of a nightmare she kept having. The funny thing was, there were boots in her dream, and her favorite Monopoly piece was the Boot. My old lady, Ms. Black always said it felt as if her life was in every way like pushing heavy things along a drudging incline.

She needed more than what she had, but hated pushing uphill, so instead she wanted to push downhill. An easier route. I told her, "if the weight is too much then the Wheelbarrow would drag you along." She would always retort back, "So, at least it'll be easier for me to cope." Now me, the Battleship represented my entire life. Either at home, overseas, or purely next door. I'll let you figure out the details.