As I sat staring at my computer vacant screen, I caught a slight movement in the corner of my left eye. Looking over I saw my Action Figure G.I. Joe climbing up the side of the book-case towards my desk.
A few seconds later, he made the perilless leap from the case towards my desk. Unfortunately. he landed on a loose stack of papers and tumbled hard to the carpeted floor.
He must’ve knocked the wind out of himself as he laid motionless for about ten seconds. Finally, and as I was getting ready to check on him, he sat up.
“Fuck you, you asshole!” he snarled at me as got to his feet.
“What the hell did I do?” I barked back.
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing – and that’s the problem, butt-face!”
“Hey, shithead, the last time I tried to help you, you got all pissy with me.”
“Well — that was then.”
“So, you want help now?”
“Whadd’ya mean ‘Yeah, what?’”
“You want help – so how do you ask for it.”
“Please,” Joe lilts as if the very word is killing him, “help me up on to your god-damn desk.”
Gently, I reached down, grasped him around the hips and lifted him to the desk. Once, I was certain he’d found his footing, I let go, where he simply stood there as if lost.
“What’s wrong now?” I asked.
“Shit! I can’t fucking remember why the hell I came in here,” he answered, hands on his hips, “Can you please let me down?”
Again, as gently as possible, I grasped him around his mid-section and lowered him to the floor. I could hear him muttering to himself as he walked down the hallway.
I returned to staring at my computer, the cursor still violently flashing at the top of the page, and thought, “Awkward…”