His first wife was blind. Unfortunately (and it was indeed unfortunate for him), she regained her vision in a freak soda bottle accident. He didn't remember laying the bottle down on his chair, and he certainly didn't mean to sit on that chair, and he definitely did not intend to send the cap flying with such force as to hit her in one eye and then ricochet off a nearby lamp straight into her other eye before coming to a stop embedded an inch into his abdomen. The doctors were shocked, it was a medical mystery. But that's irrelevant to this story. What is important is that for Oswin, that accident happened at a bad time. A very bad time. He was just perfecting his new technique of hiding twinkie bars in various pockets of overlapping skin on his body (there was a good number of them), so that he could snack on the go, and needless to say, he was not the first thing you would want to see after opening your eyes.
After the divorce was probably when the anorexia began.
His next marriage was to a young Russian girl a few years later, about twenty, who flew here, got her passport and immediately left him.
There were a few forays into online dating services as well. Oswin McDuff, age 35 (looks 22!), 180 pounds, well oiled and musclebound, CEO, owns 20 houses and a white pony.
Dates at McDonald's with a 110 pound compulsive hair-twisting man who lived alone in a one room studio did not end well.
In the following three years, two more immigrants came and went. One Brazilian, one Vietnamese.
Then came Georgina. Georgina who promised to never leave him. Georgina who never asked about his previous marriages. Georgina who was willing to stand his company for more than half an hour. Georgina who actually introduced him to her parents. Georgina who boiled his dinner cabbage just the way he liked it. Georgina who never mentioned his anorexia. Georgina who ignored his hair twisting. Georgina who he loved more than anyone in the world. Georgina who married him the day after he pulled the winning lottery ticket.
He even lost his new poodle in the divorce.
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Oswin St. George walked down the street into an unfamiliar suburb. He walked up to the first house, a dilapidated old shack, and examined the house number. The '2' was missing, but he could vaguely make out its outline in "10295". It looked like the owner had left it alone for the last thirty years. After some hesitation, he walked up and rang the doorbell.
A scruffy middle-aged man opened the door. His hair looked like it had been hacked at with a miniature machete, and Oswin thought he could make out the stain of a pepperoni hot pocket on his undershirt (he had some experience in these things).
"Hewwo sir, may I hewp you?"
He spoke with a childlike innocence, as if he had never set foot outside the protection of his mother's home. Oswin began to wonder if he had the correct house. The ad said "Beautiful, blonde, loves puppies and having fun. Willing to experiment."
"Wait mistew, let me go get mommy."
He disappeared down the corridor. A faint hope flashed across Oswin's mind. There was no way this man's real mother would be able to take care of him at her age. Perhaps he had a younger caretaker who lived and worked here, day in and day out, with no one to help relieve her aching loneliness. This must have been why she put out the ad on craigslist. He could imagine his future, no more cup ramen meals, sleeping alone on the couch as Maury reruns flashed on the television screen. "She's the one." he thought. There was a hole in her heart that he could fill. He began tapping his feet in excitement.
There was a loud squeaking noise. Oswin looked back up from his shoes. A decrepit old woman stared back at him. Or at least in his general direction. He wasn't sure if she thought he was a man or a piece of furniture.
She twitched.
"Hey mommy. Can I have some money to buy Pokemon cawds?"
Oswin thought he saw her twitch again. He must have gotten the wrong house. Another thought then appeared. It must have been those frat boys. One of them pushed him into a pool once, back during his first marriage. They must have ruined at least twelve perfectly good twinkies.
He turned around and walked back down the driveway. Those frat boys were going to get it this time. He would make sure they felt the full extent of his wrath with the power of a Twitter post. Oh yeah, this time he was gonna go all the way. 140 characters. He pulled out his Sidekick with righteous fury.
A blonde woman wearing a puppy print apron appeared in the doorway. She peered outside at the back of a strange man about to walk into a pole, his head hanging over what appeared to be a phone.
"Who was that Quinn?"
"I don't know. I think he was selling Pokemon cawds, but he just wan away fow some weason."
"I'm so lonely." she sighed. She hustled Quinn down the stairs and shut the door.
Learn more about Quinn Marksley!
2 comments:
the kid. he cracks me up. A LOT. :)
i was wondering how you were going to make Oswin a likeable character...but you pulled it off, and then some! i was laughing out loud (in the library, too). nice work.
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