By Rose Q. Addams
Two minutes until the session begins, and the folding chairs circling the gym are already filled. It’s going to be a long night.
Horatio’s seated to my left, which is good. Of all my patients, he tends to be the most level headed. Last session, Frank had that chair, and he packs a punch.
Frank’s sitting across from me now, and I stifle a wince. He doesn’t mean any harm, really, just tends to talk with his hands and forgets the strength that comes with his size. He acknowledges me with a sheepish nod, rosy face coloring even deeper than usual. I force myself to smile and nod back at him. He brightens, and I relax.
Horatio gently elbows me, and I check my watch. Nine o’clock. Punctual as ever.
“Thank you all for coming.”
Chairs adjust, scraping and squeaking. Then, silence.
I scan the dozens of eyes that look back at me and exhale. “How was your week?”
This isn’t merely conversational. It’s an open invitation to share the highs and lows of their week and to broach issues that have lingered.
“I’m only here because if I didn’t show, I’d get laid off,” says Buzz, our newest member. All attention turns to his diminutive figure three seats from my left. Brows drawn, he crosses his arms. “I’m not playing along. What’s the point, anyway?”
I open my mouth to respond, but another voice breaks in.
“It’s just a time for anyone who wants to talk.” Sam shakes his head. “It’s not forced, Buzz. Chill.”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Buzz retorts.
“Sam’s right. No one is forced to do anything here,” I say in a clear, firm tone before their argument escalates. “You’re welcome to just sit and listen.” I switch tack, offering a chance for Buzz to recover his dignity and calm down.
Buzz scowls but falls silent. It’s a start.
“Well, I’ll share.” On my right, Alfred adjusts his high collar before continuing, “They’ll probably be changing my image. Again. Of course, we’re always the last to know when—”
Sam cuts him off with a snort. “You think you’ve got it hard. Know what it’s like getting a completely new nose job every two years? On a schnozz this big? Expensive. Painful. And it never lasts. Plus, I warned them against that 2020 incident, but no. They went public. And the people agreed with me… after a month of recovery. So I’m forced back through three months of surgical hell, all on a liquid diet. And what thanks do I get?”
Buzz rolls his eyes. “See, I don’t belong with the wackos.”
“Easy does it,” I say.
“If you’re going to keep making jabs at others, you might,” Horatio says calmly. “Verbal aggression proves their point about your… issues.”
Buzz jumps to his feet. “Issues? Who’s been talking about me behind my back?”
“Sit. Down,” I say. “You’re welcome to express yourself within reason.”
Buzz flops down.
“If you’re here, you need help of some sort,” Horatio rejoins. “They don’t send us here for nothing. Take me. I’ve got self-esteem issues. They were so bad that I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning.” He pulls at one side of his white mustache, a stress-triggered habit, then he sighs. “But it’s not about us or our brands. It’s about the kids, you see.”
“Kids.” Buzz scoffs. “Try babies. Old people. Kids either don’t know I exist or don’t care.”
“At least someone remembers you.” A mournful voice comes from the corner.
I sit up straighter, looking at the figure who’s always preferred to sit in shadows against the wall instead of at the circle. I think this is the second time I’ve heard him speak. The first was his introduction six months ago.
“Go on, Bigg,” I say softly.
“My brand was discontinued because I—er, my brand—was leftovers of everyone else. But I don’t need to identify as my brand. I’m my own person.”
I glance around our group. Everyone looks stunned, but a grin creeps onto my face.
“Well, person of sorts,” he murmurs.
“Bigg, that is wonderful. Gaining that insight is a big step.” I beam at him. “You are not your cereal. Bigg is not Bigg Mixx.”
Buzz slouches, eyes down.
“One small step for Bigg, one giant leap for mascot kind!” chirps Sam. “I’m proud of ya, buddy!”
Echoes of praise circle the room. Bigg smiles shyly, his rooster-pig-moose-wolf face shining with quiet joy, and takes the empty seat next to Buzz.
These are the moments I live for.
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Delightful!
I do wish I knew rather than guessed at the brands but there’s that whole thing called copyright…
Well, I can give you SOME clues…
Horatio is on time because he likes everything shipshape: add in that white mustache, and you should have a good idea. ;)
Frank and Alfred are both from a seasonal group of cereals. (My favorite was always Alfred’s! Always, always chocolate. Sorry, Mom.)
Buzz’s anger issues contrast with his slogan. Plus, he has the only cereal I know trusted for teething infants everywhere to slobber to death.
… And I used Bigg Mixx by name.
(Oh, and google “2020 sam design debacle”, and go to “images”. You should find the answer for him in the first few images.)
This is so lovely XD
Thank you very much!
My sister and I had an idea long ago for a murder mystery starring different cereal mascots… I played around with it, and came up with this. :)
my dad was in advertising…he would’ve loved this!
Aww, thank you so much! I’m honored! :D
I love this! :D It’s such a bright ending, and I enjoyed the wordplay with the “one small step for Bigg” line! Thank you so much for sharing! :)
Originally, I had another fight break out right at the end and the therapist was depressed… The lovely editorial ladies are a wonder at making things so much more smooth and hopeful than I am. XD
Ha this is fun! Liked trying to guess the brands. And cute ending! Such an “aww, yay” moment ☺️
Thanks so much! ❤️
Wow, this was a cool and clever story!! That was quite a surprise that the characters were all “mascots.” I loved it!
:D
Thank you! I had such fun with this one.