Zack McTee

A Story About Integrity Maybe

tomoatmeal:

Even though he didn’t have kids, my neighbor, Darren, was a grownup my friends and I always looked up to. Sometimes, we would sneak into his house (he always left the door open) and then we’d sit really still in the living room.

“We’re invisible!” my friend Ricky and I would say. “You can’t see us.”

“What the fuck!” Darren would scream, playing right along. “Who is there? Oh god, no!”

Then Darren would pull a handgun out (small caliber – harmless) and spin around, firing shots blindly into the surrounding drywall and furniture until the chamber was empty. Ricky and I would snicker softly into our hands, careful to stay in character.

“I guess I’m all alone,” Darren would say. “I’m always all alone.”  Then, as if he didn’t know that Ricky and I could see it, Darren would begin ferociously smoking something out of a lightbulb.

The game usually ended with Ricky and I crawling out of his house silently while Darren, ever the good sport, would stand in front of his empty trophy case – the gun pointed at his reflection.