Polar Bear (standard:drama, 1311 words)
Author: Giovanni	Added: Apr 13 2001	Views/Reads: 4238/2334	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Jason Locke, utterly disenfranchised with his subsistence: married to his work, he cracks up in a Chicago zoo.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


"Mock him. He mocks me. Who do you think he sends out to do his dirty
work? You think I like getting brow beaten by his clients. You think he 
handles screw-ups. That's why he promoted me. You know it all. Where do 
you work? The mailroom?" 

"No. I work here and I was just advised to stop you from harassing the
big guy." 

"So, I'm harassing. I tell it like it is, one time, people fly off the
handle. The problem with you is that your head is up his ass," Locke 
said to the zookeeper, "You can't see the world clearly. Take your head 
out of his ass. This world is full of givers and takers. I'm a giver. 
He's a taker. Look at him. I give and give and give him attention and 
he mocks me. Shouting at the bear, "No more Lawson. Get someone else. 
I'm not pissing my life away. And I'll tell you something else I never 
wanted that lousy office. What life do I have? I'm married to my job. I 
want a divorce." 

For some strange reason the zookeeper had an urge to laugh. The scene
was macabre, yet almost appeared comical. Locke got on his knees, his 
tie fluttering in the wind. He banged his head against the glass tank. 
The bear let out a roar and the echo hung in the air shaking Locke's 
hands. Two security guards walked over. A heavyset guard moved in a 
semi bow legged manner, as if he had been on one too many carousel 
rides. Locke gestured to the zookeeper with his saltiest hand. "Can't 
you help me. Don't you have ambitions? Get yourself out of the 
mailroom. Tell Lawson that you're taking my place." 

The zookeeper furrowed his brows. He was eager to help the man, as much
as he wanted to help the bear, but didn't know how to go about it. 
Fumbling with the stubble on his chin, as if the answer were buried 
underneath, he found only a pimple. He rubbed it briefly, inhaled and 
exhaled. Wreathes of smoke left his lips, bewitching Locke inhaling the 
imaginary smoke. 

"Be a man for chrissakes. Tell Lawson how you feel?" 

"I would honestly, but I don't know this Mr. Lawson." 

"There. He's right in front of you. Can't you see him with that phony
smile." 

"The bear?" the zookeeper asked. 

Locke became enraged. Ripping off his shirt, exposing the rashes
covering his chest and stomach. Looking at his body, he cursed. His 
raspy voice muffled by the growling bear. The guards watching in 
amusement, until the zookeeper motioned for them. The potbellied guard 
grabbed the shirtless man. As Locke pushed the fat guard away the 
bowlegged one hobbled over. Both guards pounced on Locke, who wildly 
shook his arms and legs in rage. Drool slithered down his cheek. They 
struggled for a while until the potbellied guard handcuffed the 
shirtless man. His face was scraped from being mashed against the 
concrete. He stopped flailing his legs. The guards picked the man off 
the ground and pulled him toward an ambulance waiting at the zoo's 
entrance. The young zookeeper's chest pounded. 

An expression of achievement or joy spread across the Locke's face. With
his lower lip bleeding, his hands cuffed, he was free of the unbearable 
frustration of work and responsibility. Wearing a sardonic grin, he 
left Mr. Lawson behind. 


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