A FictionStory, Possibly with Future Installments

August 21, 2009

It was quite sudden. Mr. Totington, frankly, wasn’t at all sure what to do about the situation. For a moment he simply stood there on the sidewalk, watching people pass by. A man in a suit. A woman in a red dress. A little girl carrying a balloon. Another suited man. Instinctively he tapped his chest–there was something hooked on the left side of his suit. He looked down: It said, “MR. TOTINGTON: A RATHER STAND UP GUY.” The name, which he presumed to be his, was in blocky, straightedged letters, while the subtitle below was made to look handwritten and fancier. It was brown, like the rest of his outfit, including his briefcase–his briefcase? He next looked there. Cradling the bottom of it with one arm and opening it with the other, some papers he couldn’t recognize flew out in the wind and down the sidewalk. One of them nearly hit the little girl’s balloon, further down the sidewalk. Mr. Totington felt a strong tinge of guilt because of it.

Looking back at the briefcase, he rummaged around in it a bit more, finding a metallic paperweight, a calculator, some pens and and spare tie, a red one with cows instead of the plainer blue argyle one he was wearing now. He considered switching since he liked how this new tie looked better, and thought that perhaps a more friendly tie would allow him to talk to some stranger about what had just happened. Mr. Totington did not like being confused, though, not one bit, so he decided to have Courage and to be Brave In The Face Of Adversity and ask a nice-looking passerby. He watched some more people pass by, judging them for niceness. He found one, he had thought, but then he smiled and there was a gold tooth and this scared Mr. Totington terribly, and so the search continued.

Eventually, thank heavens, he found someone who he thought he could trust not to be mean. An older man, walking slowly with a cane at his side. Yes, this man would not be mean, and at the very least he was too old to hurt Mr. Totington, certainly. Mr. Totington strolled forwards and stood in the old man’s path. After an exchange of glances Mr. Totington frankly said, “Excuse me, but I seem to have forgotten myself.” The old man stared back for a minute, incredibly confused. His awed expression soon turned into one of annoyance and slight anger, and he shot back, “Don’t bother me, kid! Get the hell out of my way!” Mr. Totington was simply scared out of his wits and was quite literally taken aback, retreating into the safety of a nearby stone archway. The old man was startled by Mr. Totington’s odd movements, but quickly moved ahead on the sidewalk all the same, eying this strange young man who was peeking out from behind the arch’s side.

Mr. Totington stood there for a few minutes. Soon, he decided that he was scared and confused and lost and wary of everyone he saw, more than he usually was. He had no idea what to do, and he was not having a good day. No, not at all.

One Response to “A FictionStory, Possibly with Future Installments”

  1. Rebecca said

    I want to meet poor Mr. Totington. Will you are amazing, and I hope you keep this up during the upcoming semester!

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