The Five Stages of Being John Doe

Chapter Six: john doe, complete

The King kept his eyes closed, but he could no more remove his clothes and declare himself clothed than he could stop time from moving on without him.

It was the last year of school, he could hear the doldrums moving past as quick as a whip, his perception of time collapsing around him. But he did recognize the fanfare, the celebrations of students and parents alike—

Graduation day.

From his table he could smell something familiar, something he vaguely recalled Cripple John describing to him in an almost hallucinatory state. Was it a pastry? A tart? Some kind of chocolate confection?

The cake. The thing that helped start this whole thing, in its own little way. Cripple John had always wanted one of those damned pieces of chocolate cake that the school's cafeteria gave out, but he could never get one. He was too weak, after all. If King John didn't have so much on his damn plate making sure no one got the better of him, he would've demanded the whole fucking thing and downed it in front of the whole upper-tier section of the school.

Serves them right. And it serves him right for not getting a piece; if you want something in life, you take it for yourself.

Voices stopped being so muffled. There was Elaine and Arlo talking. Why was John listening in on them?

He was talking with them.

Normally. Friendly.

Nothing held back.

What the hell was happening?

A splash, a couple of whoas and ohs from the audience. Elaine exclaimed Arlo's name; he just dropped his slice of that very cake that they had in the cafeteria. They must be serving it to everyone at the graduation ceremony.

Hah. Fuck you. Serves you right as well.

"Here. Have mine."

John. What the fuck are you doing? That's yours!

"No way, John, I just got a little clumsy, is all. I'll survive. I feel bad, though; this was hers, after all. I already got my slice last year!" Arlo's voice had none of the edge that it had anymore around John. When did they get this way with each other?

"It's fine; I don't mind at all." Elaine's voice said. The sound of a kiss. Revolting.

But John kept pressing. "No. I insist. You two deserve to share this together, it's your special day, after all." A whisper. "You gotta be a bit better about these kinds of hints, Arlo. I'm trying to help you out here."

"Thanks, I don't need any help with that." Arlo whispered back, his voice getting a little bit meaner— but without the old, calculating malice.

Elaine laughed. "He really does, though. Thank you so much, John; I'll make it up to you for your birthday or something. We'll buy you a whole cake for yourself!"

"And Sera!" They laughed together. Old chums, sharing their final day together in this perverted institution as if nothing was wrong.

Elaine slapped John when they first met because he was, to her, a filthy cripple. How could they be friends now? Could one apology be enough? Could it really be that simple?

Arlo was even worse. He plotted to take away everything John had left by conspiring to send Sera to the authorities, to isolate them. To brutalize John, to put him in his place. Was it all water under the bridge, after all this time?!

King John had to thank him, though. Without Arlo being such a diminutive, self-absorbed prick, his existence might not have come to be. In a way, Asslo was a pivotal cause in all the things that led to John breaking free of his pathetic facade— and thus ensuring the downfall of the Royals.