My Shadow Has a Problem (standard:humor, 751 words)
Author: bodhisattva	Added: Feb 04 2002	Views/Reads: 3779/1	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Does the shadow know all?

My shadow has a problem. I noticed it the time I ate lunch at this
French sidewalk café. I was watching the people on the street, all in a 
hurry, all too caught up in their own thoughts to realize what was 
happening around them. I was thinking these thoughts, enjoying my 
coffee, when I saw a blur out of the corner of my eye. When I looked 
closer, I saw a young woman walking down the street, but what had 
caught my eye was the fact that her shadow seemed to have tripped and 
was now lying on the ground. 

I shook it off, thinking it must be the sugar –- or lack thereof, in my
diet, until I noticed another shadow, lying prone on the ground. My 
legs were planted firmly under the table, but the shadow cast from my 
left leg was sticking out tripping other people’s shadows. I watched as 
my shadow’s leg tripped three more unknowing pedestrians, sending all 
three of there shadow’s tumbling to the ground. 

Immediately I stood up and ran from the restaurant, scared out of my
mind, wondering what demon from hell may have taken control of my 
shadow. As I ran, I looked behind me and my shadow wasn’t following me 
step for step, as would be expected. It had climbed on my back and had 
wrapped itself around me. Without another thought, I dove into the 
nearest patch of grass available to me and rolled back and forth, 
trying to dislodge my shadow. 

In the midst of my rolling back and forth, I heard a deep, soothing
voice, reaching to me, telling me to calm down. I looked up, and my 
shadow was standing over me, laughing. 

“You can’t hurt me, I’m your shadow.” 

“What the hell is the matter with you?” 

“Absolutely nothing is the matter with me, I am you, or if you prefer, I
am the manifestations of your inner-dialogue.” 

“That’s not possible; you’ve read too many Steven King books. Wait a
minute, why am I talking to you, you’re my shadow, dammit, if anyone 
sees this, they’re going to lock me up in the nuthouse.” 

“All shadows can talk, but very few ever do, but you have so much
repressed emotion inside of you, I thought I’d help you out.” 

“How, by tripping other shadows?” 

“I’ve done much worse than that; you just haven’t been paying attention.
Remember that obscenity that was scrawled on the wall of the museum?” 

“Yeah, the picture of the...you can’t tell me that you’re responsible
for that?” 

“That was no picture, that was another shadow, the shadow of the woman
that gave you the fake phone number. I heard what you said in your head 
about her, and I gave you a hand, you just didn’t realize it, you 
ungrateful bastard.” 

“How long have you been doing this?” 

“The last few years, and let me tell you something, you are one messed
up little wacko.” 

“I’ll have you know...wait just a bloody second...why am I arguing with
you, you’re my shadow, you do your job, and I’ll do mine.” 

“I’ve been your faithful shadow for your entire life; I even let you win
when we race in the mornings.” 

“You mean my morning jog?” 

“I let you win every morning; I was trying to build your self-esteem.” 

“What do you mean you let me win? You’re my shadow, you are only there
during the day when the sun is out! You are always behind me!” 

“That’s what we like to let you think, but what do you think we do when
it’s cloudy, or at night? Do you think we just wait around for the 
sun?” 

“I can’t believe my shadow is holding an argument with me.” 

“Don’t forget I’m winning the argument also.” 

The argument went on for quite some time, in the end my shadow convinced
me that what he was doing was just and right. I continued to repress my 
emotions, having some comfort in the fact that at least my shadow could 
experience some catharsis, and I could benefit vicariously in a 
twilight zone-like manner. 

On sunny days, I was witness to my shadow’s actions, whether he was
tripping another person’s shadow, sending it into a puddle, or knocking 
the hat off of the shadow of the policeman who had just given me a 
jay-walking ticket. On rainy days, I’m not quite sure where he goes to, 
but I have a hunch that it might be Vegas. 


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