The bath bubbles look different today. Usually they were more clear with a blue sheen. Today they’re cloudy and beige. The bathtub must be dirty. The water is slightly warmer than normal too. Jeff might prune. All these changes make him uncomfortable, but the yellow rubber ducky that floats between Jeff’s knees is the same as always so he lets the irregularities in his bath routine slide. At fifty-two he still can’t handle too many changes at once. He is set in his ways like the thick gray hair is set growing out of his back. Jeff rubs his bald head with a mournful look on his face. He shifts all two hundred, eighty-six pounds and five ounces of his flabby body in the bathtub to make himself more comfortable. So far, only two things are out of place today. Jeff could probably be happy for once.
“Hey, Jeff.” Says a whispering squeak, breaking through the silence of his bathroom.
Jeff lives alone.
“Who’s there?” says Jeff clutching his Rubber Ducky.
“Please don’t squeeze me so hard, Jeff.” Replies the quiet voice.
Jeff gawks at the faded yellow, slightly scratched rubber ducky in his hands. It’s big eyes and emotionless expression gawk back at him. Jeff lets out only a muttering,
“Excuse me?”
Silence replies. Jeff thinks he is going crazy. He knows this will make him uncomfortable for the rest of the day so he flops out of the tub and onto his swollen feet. He has to go to work. He has to dry his body. He towels off. Jeff didn’t like the way his towel was scratchy. It was usually softer. The high pitched, choked off voice cut through the silence once again,
“You’re not going crazy, Jeff. ‘Madness is something rare in individuals’, Jeff — ‘but in groups, parties, peoples, and ages, it is the rule.’”
The Rubber Ducky taunts Jeff in his nakedness.
“What do you want from me?,” says Jeff, staring at the big blue painted on eyes of the duck bobbing up and down in the murky bathwater.
“I just ‘want you to become what you are,’ Jeff.”
The tile floor is cold on Jeff’s feet. He looks down at the grime underneath his toenails. He could no longer reach them, and they became dirty.
“Stop it. Rubber duckies can’t speak. I have to go to work now.”
Jeff is a clerk at the Department of Justice and State Morality. Lately his office had been 3 degrees too cold. Usually, it was seventy-two degrees. Jeff will have to wear his sweater today. He felt like his sweater choked him. He felt like it cut off his circulation.
“Are you happy, Jeff? Do you like your boss, Jeff?”
Jeff’s job is to stamp official forms. The forms decide what is right and wrong. The stamp decides if the form is official. Jeff often runs out of ink and has to buy more using his own money. They do not pay Jeff back. He becomes quietly enraged at his rubber ducky.
Jeff’s duck is making him uncomfortable.
“Yes.” he lies.
Jeff drains the bathtub. He places the rubber ducky on his dresser and puts his pants on. It hurts him to bend over like that. The ache is what least normal. Jeff’s ducky speaks again,“‘Objection, evasion, joyous distrust, and love of irony are signs of health; everything absolute belongs to pathology,’ Jeff.”
Jeff mumbles to himself, “Rubber duckies are lunatics.”
He finishes getting dressed. Jeff is sweaty from the task. The sweat makes the fabric of his undershirt cling to his hairy body. Jeff is afraid.
He takes his life long rubber ducky over to the garbage can. The can is full. The smell of Jeffs material waste seeps out of the can as he opens it. The smell makes him uncomfortable. Jeff holds out his arm. The fat on his tricep dangles and his limb twitches as he holds his precious ducky out over the can. Objection arises.
“Don’t throw me out Jeff. You love me Jeff.”
“I have to go to work.” Jeff responds.
“Jeff, ‘There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.’ Don’t cast me away, Jeff.”
The duck made his final bargain. Jeff’s hand quivers. Jeff’s brow accumulates a thick layer of cold sweat. Jeff feels heavy…the duck feels heavy…..Jeff cries on his way to work.
–Brian Hribar, Contributor