TEDDY BEAR HEADS

3-LOST AND FOUND

I just woke up and my foot's missing. I've looked in the most obvious place, of course, but it's just not there. Darlene'll be here in fifteen minutes. What am I going to do? I shouldn't panic . . . but where is it?

And then the phone rings. You'd think I wouldn't answer it. I should be looking for my foot, but if I act normal, then maybe everything'll get back to normal, right?

It's my mother. I should have just kept looking for my foot. She's prattling on, wondering if am I still going out with Darlene tonight.

"Yeah, yeah I am, Mom."

What I want to say . . . is . . . Sure, IF I CAN FIND MY FOOT . . . But I don't say that. I give an uh-huh and an um where I'm supposed to. Gotta be normal. Have to pretend everything's okay. My mother keeps asking questions. Am I wearing a tie? All the young professionals wear ties. The blue one, dear. Not the red. And she finally let's me give an answer . . . "Yes. The blue one."

Why does she stay on me like that with the questions if she doesn't want me to answer? If she won't wait for a simple little answer . . . Inside I'm screaming. Inside I'm yelling. But to her, she gets the calm uh-huh, then the um, and finally the yes, Mom.

And she keeps saying how I need to impress Darlene. Everything has to be great. Everything has to be perfect. Just like always. Perfect. PERFECT. She wants to know if I got reservations to the fancy, expensive restaurant downtown. Only the best for Darlene or something like that is what she says. And that I should wear the brown shoes, not the black.

She says I'm distracted. She'd sounded distracted, too, if SHE'D LOST HER FOOT!

I hang up, but only after saying the usual. How I love her. How she's right. And then I notice something. My hand's missing now. It disappeared somewhere between the bathroom and the bedroom, while I was hanging up the phone. It's usually hard to miss those things, you know. Just have to stay calm. There's bound to be a reasonable explanation. WHERE'S MY HAND??? Calm. Yeah, calm. Have to stay calm . . . calm—

This is not a dream. It would be nice to know I'm going to wake up, but I'm already awake. This is my apartment. Every room is immaculate. Every room is perfect, just like my mother likes it. She never comes to visit. She says she will, but she doesn't.

But there's my one messy room. The room where I don't have to be so perfect all the time. I can ball up paper on the floor. I can throw my jacket across the chair with the large stains on it.

Was that the doorbell? No, nobody's there. It's just the dog down the street barking. I hate that hairy little . . . One more minute. I just have one more minute . . . until . . . Everything'll be all right in my messy room. In that room I always keep locked.

And now it's my legs. Gone. Just gone. Hands gone. Feet gone . . . legs, just gone . . .

Right now, I'm crawling on the freaking floor looking for my legs. I know they just didn't get up and walk away. I laugh a little and then a little more.

Maybe Darlene'll be late. No, that's her. Always miss prim and proper. Always getting things her way. She'll be on time. Never early. Never late. On time. Like clockwork. You can tell when it's her because she always taps on the damn door with that cutesy little knock. Knocking out some tune.

She's a real Ice Queen, that Darlene. She thinks everything's about her. But it's about me. It's always been about me.

I want to curl up in my messy room, with all the sharp things.

The Ice Queen . . . Wait. Yeah, that's right. I put everything in the basement because my messy room's too full. That girl last night, she was a real keeper. I had to keep every piece of her. It's all about me. She's mine to keep. Her legs. Her hands.

I'm much more of a leg man, but hands do make the best keepsakes—they use up less freezer space. Everything is tucked away safe and sound. Just the way I like it. Just in time. After all, I want my messy room to be ready. There's the knock knock knock. Like always.

"Hi, Darlene."

Tonight's going to be special.