A Word from the Paperweight

I plopped into the chair and sighed. Still no answer. The phone sat next to my right arm, pristinely white and sterile but it did not make a noise.

“Still waiting, eh?” the glass paperweight on the coffee table said conversationally. “There’s been no bring-bring from the little tele in the past half hour.”

“I know that. That’s why I got another beer.” I raised the can to prove my point to the paperweight.

“Alright, alright, I see it. So then, don’t you get tired of all this waiting?”

“Waiting?” I blinked. Had I been waiting? I couldn’t remember. Yes I was sure I must have been. I eyed the paperweight. “Say, you don’t happen to know what I was waiting for, do you?”

“Hey, I’m just a paperweight,” said the little glass bauble. “I don’t think, I just hold papers down. Speaking of which there are some unpaid bills here. Hey, isn’t this for the electric? It’s overdue by a week. Any longer and they’ll cut you off man. Snip snip!”

The electric? I thought I had paid that one. My days and weeks were all running together. “Are you sure it’s for the electric?” I asked.

“Yup yup, its right here under this hospital bill. Royal Gas and Electric.”

“Oh.” I guess I had forgotten it after all. I took another gulp of my beer. I was getting low on beer. I only had two cans left and tomorrow was Sunday. Maybe I would run out later and get some. But then I’d miss the call. The answer I was waiting for. That’s what I had been doing, waiting for an answer. But an answer to what? Was my mind finally betraying me? I tried asking the paperweight.

“Do you think I’m losing my memory?” The paperweight did not respond but sat, inert and lifeless on a stack of papers. “Hey!” I shouted, “I’m talking to you!” The paperweight still did not answer but sat quietly on the stack of unpaid bills.

“Your memory, maybe no, your mind? Maybe yes.”

I squinted and peered up at the large wooden clock above the mantle. The two and the ten ran together in the center of its face to look back at me and its hands made up a large, bushy, black mustache.

“What?” I asked groggily. The clock gave me an impervious stare.

“You may be losing your mind. You were, after all, talking to a paperweight.”

I chuckled to myself. I had been talking to a paperweight. “That was very silly of me. Talking to a paperweight.” I chuckled again.

The clock bugged out its eyes at me. “You were waiting for an answer to your question.”

“What?”

“An answer to the question you asked precisely thirty-one minutes and forty-four seconds ago. You picked up the phone spoke into it for four minutes and two seconds and set it back down again.” The clock settled itself proudly on the mantle. “I remember, remember down to the second.”

“Do you remember what I asked?” I queried hopefully.

“No, that is your affair. All I do is keep the time. Every second must be kept and recorded. That’s my job.”

“But if you keep the time shouldn’t you know what happened in that time span?”

The clock looked affronted and breathed out its mustaches at me. “You, sir, do not understand the concept of time. But you are only human so what can I expect.”

“Well then,” I said leaning back in my chair, beer can resting on one knee, “enlighten me.”

The clock leaned forward, happy to share its expertise with one so ignorant.

“Time,” it began, “stops for no one and no thing. Therefore it cannot be bothered with all the minuscule time dates and rubbish that takes place within its wide spectrum. To pay attention to such details would bring time on a level with humanity. And we all know,” the clock sniffed, “that is impossible.”

I opened my mouth to ask a question that floated idly through my brain.

“And no,” the clock interrupted, “before you ask, there is no way to speed up time, or relive a moment or go back in it like some ridiculous Verne tale. No. I hate it when you people entertain those romantic notions of time travel. It is very,” the clock was beginning to get agitated, “annoying!”

I shrugged. “Not me friend. Usually I am quite content with the here and now. Speaking of which, what was I doing?” I thought for a moment, tapping a tooth with a forefinger. “Well, it can’t have been very important. I think I’ll go buy that beer now.” I began to rise from my chair.

“Weren’t you waiting for something,” the lamp piped up next to my elbow.

“Oh right, silly of me,” I said absently as I lowered myself back into the lazy boy.

“See, see, see!” The lamp squealed excitedly, “I remember everything. Everything! You can always count on me!”

“Umm…right. Yes we can…” I said gently, not wanting to hurt the lamp’s feelings. “Do you, then remember what answer I was waiting for?”

“Oh…no. Nope. Sorry. I may have a good memory but I don’t hear to well you see. Almost completely deaf. All this confounded buzzing. Only reason I can hear you now is ‘cause you’re so close. Ah, this confounded buzzing!”

I rolled my eyes and leaned back. Lamps. Always so flighty.

“But I do remember a lot,” the lamp continued happily. “I remember when you and your wife first set me here on this table. It was a lot less dusty. And there was a coaster there! Where did you put that? The table will be ruined, that was why your wife put it there. Where is that pretty little coaster?!”

I blinked at the lamp, ignoring its ramblings on the coaster. “My wife?” I asked it. I was married? I looked at my hand where a gold band shone, bright and clean, on my finger. That’s right. I was married. It was slowly coming back.

“Oh your wife,” the lamp sighed, “such a lovely lady. I always loved seeing how the red and gold shone in her hair when she read by me. Wonderful lady…”

“That’s right, she is,” I agreed, memory stirring.

“Where is she now,” the lamp asked eagerly.

“Out…I suppose…” I replied off handedly. The beer in the can in my hand sloshed idly as I gave an odd gesture to the door.

“She’s probably at church,” the Bible on the shelf said righteously. “She was a very religious lady.”

I agreed with the Bible while the television snorted.

“Religion. Humph. What is that? Religion is a thing of the past.”

I winced and waited for a stinging reply from the Bible, which soon came. “A thing of the past! A thing of the…! Why…I…! If religion is so ‘out of fashion’ then why did that good lady go to church, may I ask? Why was she not home, polluting her estimable mind with the low brow waste you so jokingly call entertainment?!”

The television sighed and shifted in its cabinet.

“Because,” it began, “church and religion is what is now fashionable. You go because, maybe the Parkers next door go to church, or the Wellingtons from down the street go, and you go too because they are always up on the times. You want to be up on the times too and you want to know what they are talking about when they discuss the awful little hat Mrs. Johnson wore or some such nonsense. This deception of ‘religion’ now a days is just a cover for a larger form of entertainment and gossip, which promotes the qualities of human nature the so-called ‘church’ teaches against.

The Bible sputtered angrily on its shelf. Two neighboring books, alarmed by the bibles sudden agitation, scooted hastily away.

“The Church,” the Bible said in a voice shaking with anger, “attracts people. Are people perfect? No, of course not. People are corrupt. They have flaws and so are prone to sin. Yes some may go to church for gossip, and as you so say ‘entertainment,’ but there are fundamental qualities about church that make people go. Why did the Parkers go? Why did the Wellington’s go? Why did anyone start going? It is because, my little black noise box, people have faith. Many are legitimate believers and go to church to hear God’s word and, most importantly, receive the Eucharist, which is something that cannot be done by simply praying on a mountaintop. Other’s go to see what all the fuss is about. Then after a few times they see, or more accurately start to believe and that is what keeps them coming back. Why do you think the church as such a large following, even though its name has been slandered? Surely it is not ‘cool’ or ‘in fashion’ to attend a place that has been said to be stunted by corruption? But people go because they have faith in God.

I listened to this philosophical debate with open ears and pondered and then reached a conclusion. The television began to open its mouth to respond to the Bible but I cut it off.

“I don’t think I believe in God anymore.” The Bible fell off its shelf at my announcement and the television snickered. “Well, I mean I used to,” I explained, taking a sip of beer and leaning forward in my chair, “but I just don’t think I do anymore.”

“Wha…what changed your mind,” stammered the bible from its new resting place on the floor.

I puzzled for a moment. “I don’t really know…it was a decision that just came to me hearing your conversation and thinking about my wife. I mean, God, who came up with that? If there is one why does he let bad things happen to people? Why is his church so corrupt? The pieces right now are not really falling into place.”

“Exactly!” The television crowed triumphantly. “I tell you what God is. God is nothing but a creation of a group of power hungry individuals. They create the church so that it will eventually turn into a political state. Right now the church and the state are coexisting, but barely. How long will that last? Eventually the church will grow enough to form its own political state with its own justice etc. Then where will we be? Will the citizens of a state have a religion or do they have to believe in the state? Then will the state become their God?”

“And as for bad things happening to people, since ‘god’ is just a creation of these political minded individuals, nothing prevents bad things or good things from happening to people. It is all one giant hoax!”

“Now, now, now!” the Bible shouted, “aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself. You are doing nothing but proving your own ignorance of Church doctrine.” The book turned its attention away from the television and onto me. “Don’t listen to that cesspool of sin. The Church was founded by good moral men (we can trace our roots all the way back to St. Peter actually) and so our doctrine is transmitted by books put together by the Septuagint and our doctrine has also been carried orally. Now it would go against this most holy doctrine and the whole point of the Church to become a state. If the Church were to become so political then it would not have the compassion for the people as it has today. It would have to forget partially about its believers, as many states have to, and that is impossible when dealing with the Church since that goes against its teaching.”

“As for the matter of bad things happening to good people, well, that is easily explained. You see, God gave people free will so if one man decides to steal from another man and the other man kills the thief it was that man’s free will to do so. If the families start feuding and war results, it was the fault of free will.” The Bible finished and looked smugly at the television.

I grunted and pondered.

“Isn’t this ironic!” squealed the beer can as I raised it and downed another gulp. I blinked at it then shook my head and forgot about it. Then a thought came to me.

“What was I doing?”

“You were asking,” replied the Bible, “some theological questions.”

“No, no,” I said, dismissing the Bible’s reply with a wave of my hand, “I mean before that. What was I doing originally?”

“Weren’t you waiting for something?” The television hazarded a guess.

“Yeah, that’s right, I was.” I sat back with a satisfied sigh, proud that I had remembered what I was doing.

“Mahogany.”

“What?” I asked the Bible. The Bible lay on the floor silent.

“No, no, no. Bibles don’t talk you silly man,” the coffee table tsked angrily. “And I think you should get mahogany.”

I chuckled to myself. Bibles certainly did not talk. No more than televisions argued theology and paperweights lectured on electric bills.

“And what,” I asked the table, “shall I get mahogany for?”

“I don’t know,” the table shrugged, “but you were talking about wood on the phone. Wood, as opposed to fire.”

I blinked. What had I been talking about wood for? Wood as opposed to fire? Two complete opposites.

“Yes, they are,” the coffee table agreed.

Did I say that out loud? I did not believe I had. I looked at the can of beer in my hand. Maybe I had been drinking too much. I looked at the cans littering the area around my chair for confirmation. I swallowed. I most definitely had.

I raised my eyes to the coffee table and the stack of unpaid bills. I reached for the electric but instead grabbed the hospital bill. I raised my eyebrows at the price. Why was it so much? I hadn’t needed to go to the hospital. I looked at the bill again.

It looked like the procedures that needed to be done for some kind of major accident. Why…? I swallowed, memory clearing the alcohol from my mind.

The phone rang next to my elbow, startling me. I grabbed the receiver and answered quietly into it.

“Hello?”

“We have been able to find some excellent cedar!” said a loud jovial voice. “Excellent wood for coffins. Just beautiful. I am so happy to tell you we had some. So the answer to your question is ‘yes’ we do have some nice cedar. Don’t you just love cedar? It smells so nice…”

“I want mahogany.”

“What?” the man said startled. “Mahogany now? Well, okay okay. We have plenty of that in stock beautiful wood that. Simply beautiful. I will get right on it. Have a nice day.” The line went dead against my ear.

I swallowed and looked around the room with sober eyes and stood. “She was a religious lady,” I said correcting my self to the bible. “I think…” I swallowed, “I’ll get another beer.”