• Published 7th Nov 2012
  • 12,497 Views, 108 Comments

My Dear Shy - Keeper-of-Harmony



An isolate-loving man uncovers something that'll change his discourteous life for the better.

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25
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 12,497

Aftermath - Log One

On a early, sunny morning, I abruptly woke up from my clock's ear-wrenching siren. I slammed an entire palm onto it until the noise quelled. I slowly sat up yawning and stretching, rubbing the bags underneath my eyes until I noticed something unfamiliar to my morning ritual; a folded olive-colored blanket lays next to me on my bed. It was rather peculiar to ponder. When I used to be ten years old, I had a "protective blankey" phase where I would have a small blanket and use it to protect me from the "monsters" that I pretend that come out at night.

Snapping back to reality, I shrugged and got up to begin my daily schedule: I took a steaming hot shower, ate Applejacks for breakfast, got dressed in my fine jacket and pants, then drove off to work. During my ten mile commute, I couldn't shake off the thoughts of that blanket that keeps popping up inside my mind. It was like something very personal or dear to me, yet it eludes my mind. Disregarding the subliminal subject, I slowed down to pull out a CD from my glove compartment and inserted it in my car's disc player.

'Surely some songs will help make me forget about it.' I said in thought.

There's not many selections on the CD; ten songs it should be about. Some of them I don't listen to anymore, but there are plenty I still enjoy. Skipping tracks, I stopped to a track (Denis Leary - I'm An Asshole) and sang along with it. This was someone I can really relate to because, after all, we're both jerks to an extent. Such as one time a week ago I was at work and there was a commotion about one of the employees rumored being gay. Hilarious for not only was there a dispute among the staff but they didn't expect it was I who started the rumor. Thankfully our boss pardoned my prank, seeing as he knew I caused it all. Call it fortunate he is a swell guy, even though at times he does get angry at me when I pull those sort of stunts.

What can I say? Like father, like son.

I remain focused on the road while singing the rest of Denis Leary's song. One day I hope to even God himself that I'll get a chance to meet Denis Leary in person. But that's a reality that'll unlikely happen. A simple man can dream, can't he? Before long I finally arrive at my everyday miserable job. Not that I picture it as miserable, I like to put it as an...

Over-the-top-crappyass-job-that-when-I-become-an-author-I'll-quit-this-shithole kind of job.

I probably shouldn't complain over it that much, since a certain "friend" who works there vouched for me when I was searching for well-paid jobs. If it wasn't for her I wouldn't have the job as a journalist. Her name was Tina Staubsauger, and frankly her last name stood to be german like mine is. However the difference she and I don't share is that I'm not german, but my foster family were and thus that's why my last name is Gärtners. When I quoted the word "friend", allow me to interpret by saying that "friend" is another word I use to introduce someone. I don't consider Tina as significant, and a friend for that matter, but I felt that the word friend was the only thing I could make up up at that point.

I don't know much about her besides the fact she moved here from Germany, although I can describe how she looks. She's twenty years old and stands tall at about an amazing height of six feet, and has lovely brownie-colored eyes.

How we met was remarkable; It was supposedly three years ago and I was at a grocery store buying some milk and cereal, and I me and a lot of people were stuck on a long line that hadn't moved what felt like since forever. It had appeared the one responsible for holding up the line was Tina. Not really, later I found out it wasn't her but the idiot manning the register.

The register guy, well, I could care less how or what he looks like, but his utter stupidity of trying to scan her last item was wasting my precious time. Tina wasn't much help either, yet I guess I wouldn't blame her plausible excuse for being blonde. Still, waiting in line pestered me thus it compelled me to leave my cart and walk past the crowd up to the register.

"Sir," the guy standing at the register pointed at me. "You'll have to move back at the end of the line and-"

I swiped the item that is a carton of milk and skid it across the scanner once. The scanner beeped and displayed the item on the monitor.

"Can we please get a move on now?" I growled at him.

I heard several people behind me cheer in praise for my action.

The register guy stood there speechless, his mouth opened like he was about to say something but then immediately closed as he silently gave Tina the receipt.

Tina looked to me and said. "Uh... thank you."

"Whatever." I bitterly replied as I turned around ready to move back to my position in line.

However Tina decided to pinch my coat and gave it a tug before I even moved.

She grabbed my attention as I asked. "What is it?"

Tina was hesitant, but she gathered the courage and spoke. "My name is Tina, Tina Staubsauger."

I wasn't exactly sure why she was reluctant, and moreover why did she address herself to a complete stranger who she doesn't know about? Regardless, suppose if one has addressed one's name to another it wouldn't be right not to return the gesture.

"...Rick, Rick Gärtners." I said.

And that was how I met Tina....

Author's Note:

I'm still not sure if I got the tenses down right, so anybody that spots the errors go ahead and PM me what and where the problems are at.